#Happy Bride Mexico

[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

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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.

»»————-　☾　————-««

[look-at-the-soul]

Vows Renewal

Cillian Murphy x Mexican reader (blurb)

Request by anon; thank you for sending in this lovely idea! I already had a similar idea with a reader from Brazil so I wanted to make this completely different 🤭 Que lo disfrutes! Enjoy

Translation in English will be in italics 😉

Cillian felt like his face had been hurting from smiling so much.

It was a beautiful evening by the beach with his wife by his side and their loved ones.

Skin sun kissed, the smell of the sea, the crash of the waves softly as if it was the music background, happiness to the max. What could he possibly ask for? If he already had it all…

His closest family members and friends traveled all the way from Ireland to one of the most beautiful places in the world, there was no other place with a sight like this Mexican beach. They chose that place to celebrate their vows renewal because it had a special spot in their hearts as it was the very same place where they celebrated a second wedding -to give the family the chance, they made two small weddings back then both in Ireland and Mexico over ten years ago- and now they just needed another excuse to go back.

It had been an incredible ceremony, they exchanged their rings and vows both in English and Spanish in a private resort, after posing for photos and taking a moment to welcome everyone they had the most delicious dinner and dessert. His kids sitting at each side of them at the table, everyone thought having a Mexican buffet was the greatest idea ever, as they requested all kinds of traditional dishes to be served as well as another table for sweets and spicy desserts that included from glazed churros to grilled corn with different toppings. Drinks flowing in every direction, everyone wearing a contagious smile.

He decided to take it slow with the tequila that night, there would be plenty opportunities to get drunk but he got to celebrate ten years of marriage once.

Spotting the beautiful bride among the people around her, he smiled pleased. Her dress had loads of embroidered flowers made by Mexican artisans.

“Señora [Mrs.] Murphy?” He chuckled at her surprise. “May I have a word with the bride?”

“Mum! Can I’ve some cake?” Azul their daughter asked, interrupting the two of them.

Y/N raised an eyebrow towards the girl. She knew her father would say yes, her eyes sparkled and lighted even more the blue/green tones in her eyes.

“Puedo comer otra rebanada de pastel?” She asked in Spanish this time around.

“Una pequeña, corazón.” [A small piece, sweetheart.] Y/N replied.

“Yo también quiero!” [I want some too] Whined Oisin.

“Está bien.” [Alright] She agreed feeling a pair of arms wrapping around her waist from behind.

“Quiero postre también.” [I want dessert too.] Cillian whispered against her ear, giving her goosebumps all over her skin.

“Esta noche.” [Tonight] She promised turning around in his arms, she wouldn’t mind getting lost in his eyes.

Leaning down for a short kiss, he could feel himself getting lost in that smile that made him go back in time to the first moment he saw her.

“What?”

Cillian shook his head. “Visiting some memories.”

“Oh… may I know about what?”

“From the day we met,” her eyes danced towards his lips, and up again taking in the way the sunset reflected beautifully in his eyes.

Planting both hands on his shoulders, she rose to her tiptoes to find his lips, as her heart swelled with love and pride to remember also, of that day they met in that film festival in France. She had been chatting to a director and he suddenly bumped into her back distracted, after an apology and making sure she was alright, he smiled, after that moment, they spent the rest of the night together and from then on they never spent another night apart.

Well, except when he was filming.

“You want to know a secret?” His arm sneaked around her backless dress. “Señora Murphy.” [Mrs. Murphy.]

“Of course.” She beamed, brushing away the fringe from his forehead.

“I didn’t bump into you accidentally… I wanted to, no, I needed to meet you.”

Just as Y/N was about to reply something when suddenly the mariachi interrupted the party and started signing, the group received them with a chorus of chants and clapping. Bringing more happiness than they already felt.

***

Master list

Blurbs

A/N: I hope you like this! The girl’s name Azul means blue (color) in English but it’s a popular name around 💙 thank you for reading I loved writing this piece!! 🇲🇽♥️

Tag list: @lyarr24 @cillmequick @datewithgianni @cloudofdisney @gretelshelby @gypsy-girl-08 @lespendy @onlydeadcells @fastfan @stevie75 @prettylittlehoneyeyesxoxo @esposadomd @forbidden-forest-witch @ange-thoughts @moral-terpitude @moral-terpitude @elenavampire21 @forgottenpeakywriter @thenattitude @winchestergirl22 @elk96 @heidimoreton @imichelle-l-rigby @allie131313 @already-broken144 @peakyscillian @babaohhhriley @mrkdvidal1989 @shelbydelrey @shaddixlife @sloanexx @sydneyyyya @adaydreamaway08 @pono-pura-vida @thomashelbyswife @darleneslane @lauren-raines-x @everythingelseisextra @kmc1989 @rangerelik @lovemissyhoneybee @ironpen @kittycatcait219 @shelundeadxxxx @kathrinemelissa @autumns-apple @lau219

[evita-shelby]

Not so different

For @peakyswritings and their fic's first anniversary!

Luca x Eva ft Nina Ferrante x Tommy

It was considered improper in Luca’s family to wear black to a wedding, but Eva’s husband had not said a thing about it, so she continued her custom.

Besides, the dress was a work of art and Eva had cultivated that image of otherworldly being thanks to the high pedestal Spinietta had placed her on.

A living saint who will be interred in the Vatican with her godfather and the lucky man she chose as her husband.

The Ferrantes were allies, possibly distant kin on his mother’s side and when Riccardo was told what Stefano had been up to, the Boss had to send his witch and his most promising Capo.

“Leave it to Shelby to make trouble.” Luca shook his head with a laugh after she regaled him the full story the jilted ---but relieved--- bride and her sisters had told her as they welcomed them to their home. “He always had a thing for Sicilian girls, when I lived in England everyone knew he’d marry Greta Jurossi, God rest her soul, no matter how much her father tried to drive him away.”

Luca knew the groom, a Romani gangster from his father’s city whom Luca and his brother had grown up with. It was Tommy Shelby’s own aunt who had been Luca’s sweetheart when he was a young man, something that Eva did not mind.

Not because the witch has overcome her jealousy ---the day Eva no longer wants to wring a woman’s neck for getting near her man will be when she is dead and gone--- but because Luca knows better than to trifle with her. Much like Birmingham and New York, there were quite a number of women here he’d slept with, but Eva’s baby fever ensured her husband barely even registered his exes were there.

“How did you manage to sleep with so many women in this village, if you have only been here twice?” the witch asked knowing he’d have nowhere to run sitting here in the pews as they waited for the mystery bride.

“Good girls like bad men, pussycat.” He smirked with his olive-green eyes sparkling with pride. “Why do you think Tommy is marrying his host’s daughter and not the one selected for him?”

They don’t continue speaking about Luca’s irresistible charms when the bridal procession begins. Even with the veil covering her face, Eva knows the girl is a beauty, one with a soul to match it and more than met the eye.

There was also that Nina had a spark of rebellion, something that set her apart from her cousins even if they shared looks and traits. Men like Luca and Tommy seek someone who challenges them, who intrigues them and cannot simply conform to the standard their societies have for women.

Italy is not so different than Mexico.

Though Eva had a vastly different upbringing, she was still expected to marry and have children and have no other dreams than keeping tradition. Eva was lucky that her family flouted convention and ensured she had the same education as a man and that she had as much freedom as a son would.

Nina Ferrante had her parents who loved and protected her even when she went against the grain, Shelby will be the man to let her have the independence a spirited woman like her desires.

As long as the Changrettas and the Shelbys remain tenuous allies, Eva would wish them all the happiness in the world and the fortitude to survive its troubles.

It is not until much later when they are properly introduced.

Luca takes the lead knowing he is being sized up by Shelby, and yet as they stand there viewing each other as potential threats, Luca’s congratulations hold a note of sincerity. They weren’t always enemies, once upon a time the Changrettas and the Shelbys were friends and neighbors before they were rival gangs.

“My family sends their congratulations as well. My stepmother was very happy to know you were able to find happiness after Greta’s passing, especially with someone more deserving than the barmaid and the whore your brother tried to marry.” Luca has two intentions with his words, the first was to hurt Shelby for sport and the second to give the bride a heads up should Shelby take up old habits.

A different person could tolerate infidelity, but in families like theirs an infidelity could cost the offender their life. Even if the bride forgave him, the Family would not.

“I have seen the two of you will be happy together, the two of you were meant to find each other. I hope you can visit us in New York soon, though not as lovely as Sicily, it has its charms.” Eva smoothed things over with the newlyweds or did what she could to assuage Nina’s fears.

The bride thanks her, though still unsettled by Luca’s words and Tommy Shelby’s change in demeanor.

They do not meet again until John Shelby leaves Angel beaten and bleeding on the shop floor. And all because Shelby’s secretary had become involved with Luca’s younger brother.

Shelby did not rein in his brothers when asked and now this was escalating to something no one wanted. You would think this business with the Russians would give Tommy Shelby a chance to keep his family on a leash until it was over.

“He wants your father-in-law’s territories; Lizzie is just an excuse. I fear he doesn’t understand the scale this war could be.” Nina, now older with children, an Oxford education and accustomed to her role as Mrs. Shelby, does not beat around the bush as they meet for tea in Birmingham’s city center.

“Your husband is as resilient as a cockroach, dear, he has cheated death so many times he and his brothers think they will do so again. If this war happens, I will be forced to take part for my husband and children’s sake and I promise you, it will wipe the Shelby name off the face of the earth.” The witch would give up her soul for Luca’s victory, if this war came to pass, there is nothing she would not do to ensure their enemies are all dead.

Luca has no qualms killing children, and whatever feelings he had for Polly Gray won’t save her either. If Angel or his father were hurt or killed in Shelby’s pursuit of power, no one, not even the family cat would be spared.

“What can we do to stop it?” the Italian woman asks swallowing her fears and seeking a better course forward. She has not lost her spark of defiance, or else she wouldn’t be here behind Tommy’s back.

“The same thing our families have always done to secure peace and prosperity, we bind our families through blood.” The witch sips her tea as if nothing out of the ordinary were happening there. Eva’s grown too used to negotiating truces with her status as the deity advising the Spinettas. “Though it will be a while until our children are old enough to marry each other, you have a young brother-in-law and I have an English cousin worth her weight in gold. Lizzie’s marriage to Angel will be part of bargain, or Shelby will have no allies when the Russians fuck him over.”

“They used to call me a witch back home, you know.” Nina takes it all in stride. “They ate their words when they met you and saw all that Stefano and his family had said was all true. The Spinettas are right to fear you, you and Luca could easily take the crown from them.”

The witch smiled, “Oh these mortals have a way of branding what they don’t like as witchcraft and when the real thing arrived at their doorstep, they found themselves too scared to speak.”

She’s the strega who will curse them to the deepest pits of hell or the benevolent santa who will make all their wishes come true. She is not Eva to anyone save her family these days.

“But, yes, we do plan on taking their crown. Your husband can have England if he helps us take America.”

[bullet-prooflove]

Beachside: Arlo Turk x Reader (NCIS:LA)

Tagging: @kmc1989 @alexlynn16 @mini-bee-bee @scorpio-1357

I just love him so much, your honor!

The water has always been a soothing place for Arlo, it’s one of the reasons he lives in a rundown yellow mobile home just a few footsteps from the beach. He doesn’t need much for him and Deogey, just a place to lay his head and chill his beers. They’d lived in much worse places back in Mexico, his last place of residence had been a camp bed in the corner of the garage he’d ‘owned’.

The first thing he does every morning is surf. It helps to clear his head of the nightmares that plague his sleep. He takes Deogey with him, the German Shephard likes to sniff out the driftwood along the shore while Arlo’s on the water.

Things are a little different today because you slept over last night. The two of you had laid outside on a blanket looking up at the stars until the early hours of the morning, holding hands, sipping beer. He’d spent the night telling you about all the shit he’d gotten up to in Mexico, the good, the bad and the down right ugly. You had told him about the man after him, the one you’d left at the alter because you just couldn’t bring yourself to close the door on Arlo.

They still call you Runaway Bride back at the office.

He leaves you to sleep in, his fingertips brushing the hair away from your peaceful features as his lips brush over your forehead. He still can’t believe what a lucky son of a bitch he is. Most women would have run a mile after laying eyes on this place, not you though, never you. You get why he needs to be this close to the ocean, how it helps to quiet his mind.

He spends a couple of hours out on the water, catching waves, letting his mind process the details of what you’d told him last night. He can’t stop thinking about what your life would have looked like if you’d gone through with the wedding, if you’d married Michael Plank, the man whose making a run for governor.

You would have been bored to death, he knows it.

The reason the two of you work so well is because you’re wired the same way he is. The difference is  you just hide it better.

The best sex he's ever had was in the cab of his truck after you’d been caught in the crossfire between a couple of warring cartel factions. All that adrenaline spiking through your system, it was like putting a spark to a keg of gunpowder when the two of you were together.

Raw. Passionate. Explosive.

He’d worn your brand all over his skin for weeks after that. Love bites, scratch marks, fingertip bruising, each and every single one a reminder of just how good you fucked him.

A man like Michael Plank couldn’t keep up with that. He couldn’t understand the thrill, the excitement, not the way Arlo does. He would have tried to temper that fire, douse it. Arlo, he just wants to let it burn, he wants it to shine so fucking bright it dazzles anyone who looks at it.

His gaze flickers up to the beach and he sees you sitting there on the shore, wearing one of his t-shirts and the pair of denim shorts he’d tugged down your thighs last night when he was going down on you. You have a cup of coffee in one hand and Deogey’s rope toy in the other. The German Shephard shakes his head as he tries to yank it from your hand but you hold firm, making him work for it.

Arlo can’t help but smile as he sits on the surfboard and watches the two of you. He never thought he’d have this again, that he’d feel happiness in his heart. Being back here in LA, it’s good for him, you’re good for him, and when you look up and give him that smile, he thinks he may be good for you too.

Love Arlo? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[extinct-fish]

Reaper's Bride Drabble - Cooking with Ryomina

Meanwhile, in the mansion, Makoto was laying on top of Ryoji, the two of them seated in front of a fireplace as Ryoji read Greek mythology to him. Originally, Makoto had no reservations about the smell of almonds, as it was simply another scent. However, in more recent times, he had grown to love the smell, associating the smell of cyanide with the most gentle man he has ever met.

“Ryoji…,” Makoto piped up.

“Hm?” Ryoji hummed.

“Why don’t we cook together?”

“Ah, I’d love to,” Ryoji eagerly accepted, closing his book, “What is your cooking specialty?”

“What?”

“What part of cooking are you the best at? I like baking, but I’m also good at making main courses.”

“I mean… I guess baking isn’t my specialty, since I can’t really figure out how long to time the baking process or something along those lines- my sister’s really good at it, though.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I can teach you!” Ryoji giggled, “I’ve got a bunch of tricks up my sleeve for helping you with baking!”

“Really?”

“Yeah! I’ll teach you!”

Ryoji then nudged Makoto, to which the latter got up and helped Ryoji up. The two walked to the kitchen, the laughing table greeting the two with a happy noise. The two got to work, preparing some lunch and snacks.

“I still can’t believe you managed to befriend every shadow here,” Ryoji chuckled as he pulled out a bag of flour from the cabinet.

“Well, I just treat them with respect,” Makoto shrugged, taking a bag of beef chunks from the fridge, “it’s nothing special.”

“You might think it’s nothing,” Ryoji simply tilted his head as he grabbed a collection of spice shakers, “but there’s a lot of people out in the world who would love to abuse innocent shadows.”

“Speaking of shadows, I’ve never really understood what they really are,” Makoto paused as he chopped celery, “well, aside from being monsters.”

“Well, in a way, they represent humanity’s desires, good, bad, doesn’t matter.” Ryoji then pointed at the icebox, “can you get me a couple of eggs?”

“What’re you making?” Makoto asked as he handed the eggs to Ryoji.

“I’m not making it, I’m just preparing the things for Pan De Muertos.”

“Pan de what?”

“It’s Bread of the Dead, basically. It comes from Mexico, usually for Dia De Los Muertos.”

“Now you’re just speaking in riddles,” Makoto joked as he filled the pot with water.

Ryoji simply laughed at Makoto’s quip.

“It’s a little thing that they do to honor the dead, it’s believed the dead would love some bread alongside their favorite dish.”

“Ohh, I guess it makes sense.”

“Kind of like how we put cake with the dead so they can appease Cerberus.”

“Wait- cake?!”

“Yep. Cerberus is a three-headed dog, and dogs love to eat whatever they find, even if it’s not meant for them.”

“Well no shit, I once saw Koromaru eat a hot Takoyaki and just stomach it like it’s nothing.”

“Jeez, my greek-ass can’t handle spicy stuff.”

“Pathetic,” Makoto smirked teasingly.

The two engaged in light-hearted banter as Ryoji wrote down the steps for making Pan de Muertos. Makoto then allowed the stew to simmer, which left him the chance to bake Pan de Muertos.

“Alright, now you know how to measure things?”

“Well duh.”

“Show me, I’ll give you some pointers.”

Makoto then noticed a bowl of a white and fluffy powder that wasn’t flour.

“What’s that?”

“Baking Powder. I don’t have any dry yeast, so I just measured out how much I needed for Pan de Muertos.”

“What’s the measurement on that?”

“Well, baking powder is 1:1 with dry yeast, so that’s about 3.3 grams, give or take.”

“Got it.”

Makoto then measured out the flour, to which Ryoji saw the problem.

“Hold on. Don’t add anything yet, okay?”

“What’s up?”

“In baking, you’ll want exact measurements. Too much or too little can cause problems.”

“Well, how do you handle this little thing?” Makoto asked, pointing at the excess.

“Scrape it off with the back of a knife.”

“You serious?”

“Yep.”

Ryoji then grabbed a butter knife from the drawer, then handed it to Makoto.

“Here. just run the back of this against the edge of that. Trust me, it makes a world of difference.”

“Okay…?”

Makoto then carefully scraped the excess off the measuring cup. Ryoji then nodded, Makoto’s sign to dump the cup into the mixing bowl.

“Can you follow the rest on your own?”

“I guess.”

Makoto then carefully measured out the rest of the ingredients, following the steps. Ryoji worked on making the glaze for the bread, doing so without the written recipe. Once Makoto had successfully made the bread dough, he carefully allowed the bread to rest, to which Ryoji admired the handiwork.

“You’re going to love it, trust me,” Ryoji reassured.

“Well I hope so, I suck at baking!”

“Well, that’s why I’m teaching you,” Ryoji smiled brightly.

God, when did Ryoji become so cute? It was endearing to see Ryoji so wholesome and sweet, and painfully so for Makoto. He went to check the stew, finding it was almost done. He carefully stirred, Ryoji dipping his finger in the broth, earning a slap on the hand from the utensil from Makoto.

“Makoto, I can’t get hurt from a boiling broth,” Ryoji chuckled, “Though your slap hurt.”

“Still, don’t stick your ghostly fingers into the broth, dumbass.”

“Oh, like this?” Ryoji then slipped his hands under Makoto’s shirt and tickled the bare skin underneath. 

“AAAHHH-! RYOJI- YOU’RE TERRIBLE!” Makoto gave a light shove to the god.

Ryoji laughed in response to that, to which Makoto laughed a little. In the past two weeks, Ryoji has never heard Makoto laugh, but god, did he want to hear more of him.

“Mischievous little bastard,” Makoto chuckled.

“But I’m your mischievous bastard. I’m taller than you, so compared to me, you’re the little guy.”

“I will take your kneecaps.”

[myhauntedsalem]

La Pascualita

La Pascualita or Little Pascuala is a bridal mannequin that has “lived” in a store window in Chihuahua, Mexico for the past 75 years. That is quite a long time for a bridal gown shop to retain a mannequin, but then the dummy has a rather strange history behind it. According to an urban legend, La Pascualita isn’t a dummy at all, but the perfectly preserved corpse of the previous owner’s daughter.

For years, the story of La Pascualita has been drawing loads of visitors, including media personalities, from all over Mexico to Chihuahua. Now, people from South America, the US and Europe have also started paying visits to the corpse bride. People smudge their noses up against the shop window, staring at the dummy, trying to figure out if she is real or not. They are taken in by her mesmerizing gaze and realistic-looking features. Most people walk away convinced that she has to be real.

La Pascualita was first installed in the store window on March 25th, 1930, dressed in a spring-seasonal bridal gown. The effect was instantaneous. People simply could not tear their sight away from this new mannequin, with the wide-set glass eyes, real hair and blushing skin tone. Soon, they realized that the mannequin closely resembled the shop’s owner at the time, Pascuala Esparza. It didn’t take long for them to come to the conclusion that the dummy was in fact the embalmed body of her daughter, who had died recently on her wedding day after being bitten by a Black Widow spider. This revelation did not go very well with the locals, and they started to express their disapproval. But by the time Pascuala could issue an official statement denying the rumors, it was too late. Nobody was willing to believer her. The daughter’s name has been lost over time, and ‘La Pascualita’ stuck through the years.

Of course, the speculated presence of a corpse must naturally be accompanied by supernatural happenings as well. Several odd incidents have been reported around the dummy, none of which have been confirmed, of course. It is said that a love-sick French magician would arrive at night and magically bring it to life, taking her out to town. A few others believe that her gaze shifts and follows them around the store. At night, she is also believed to shift positions in the window. These tales are pretty scary, perhaps most of all to the shop workers who have to see Pascualita every single day. The ones to leave the shop last are definitely not a happy lot. The dummy’s outfits are changed twice a week behind closed curtains. Sonia Burciaga, a shop worker says, “Every time I go near Pascualita my hands break out in a sweat. Her hands are very realistic and she even has varicose veins on her legs. I believe she’s a real person.” Now, an account like that coming from a person who has actually changed the mannequin’s clothes seems very believable. Could Pascualita really be a 75-year-old corpse? I’m terribly curious to see it for myself.

[andrea-lyn]

Happy new year! If the adage is that you spend today doing what you want to for the rest of the year, then I want to keep reading and reccing some fics I’ve loved in the last little while!

So, here’s a mish-mash of multi-fandoms. As always, you can find my master rec collection here. 

Ghosts (BBC)

And So On and So Forth by V_Evergreen

Dying is, of course, incredibly tragic. It is also the most wonderful opportunity.

Father of the Bride by EllianaDunla

Rachel Fawcett visits Button House to feel closer to her father.

Which happens, just not quite in the way she expects.

Project Chatterbox by SqutternutBosh

‘What’s this?’ Alison asks, looking down at the scrappy piece of note paper that Mike has just put down in front of her.

‘It’s a list of ways I can talk to them,’ Mike says, sitting down beside her at the kitchen table.

Raven Cycle

hold me tight, fear me not by audikatia for Northisnotup

When Adam stepped around, he found himself suddenly in an emerald glen of moss-covered trees. More blue roses scattered over the green ground like raindrops or tears.

And there, in the center, was a man pinned to a tree with an arrow through his heart. :: Tam Lin AU

Someone Worth Knowing by SprigsofViolets

Alex Claremont-Diaz and Adam Parrish meet on their first day at NYU. They do not hit it off—cue the academic rivalry. They hate each other until they learn to understand each other.

(I can’t tell you how many times I’ve re-read this one, esp as it hits two of my fave canons in all the right places)

since you've been home, see what you have become by Mici (noharlembeat)

Adam goes touring colleges, and Ronan comes along. And Opal, well. She stays with Declan.

***Greywaren spoilers for the below fics!***

There's No Place Like My Room by Lil_Redhead

Sometimes endings are endings, but sometimes they’re just middles and the real ending is very, very far away.

Or, the days between the last chapters and the epilogue of Greywaren

(This one is still a WIP with one chapter left to post, but it hits all the right notes of post-Greywaren + plot that I was craving after finishing the book)

god only knows (what i'd be without you) by RhymeReason

[Part of Gansey was starting to accept that two of his best friends were most likely dead.]

Or: gansey finds adam and ronan :)

and on the seventh day he rested by Prevalent_Masters

On the seventh day, the Lynch brothers discovered they were friends once more.

Or, the week following the (near) apocalypse.

Roswell New Mexico

Contigo me encontré by beautifulcheat (Katalyst), ladynox

The Lockhart House was once a home, although it was never a happy one. Steeped in tragedy, it still stands today, in the heart of Old Town Roswell, attracting ghost hunters and those seeking to catch a peak of something from beyond the veil.

Contrary to popular myth, it wasn’t currently haunted (except by one paranormally talented docent). It was Michael’s favorite job and the best part of his summer home from UNM. Or at least was until Alex Manes was hired to man the gift shop, complicating an otherwise fun and easy job.

With Love Overflowing by Nestra

"We both agree that this is not the place we belong, right? Please say yes."

Michael tossed his hat on the coffee table and dropped onto the couch. "If you mean that your dad's been dead since CrashCon and some kind of crazy shit is going on, then yeah, I agree."

(This one was for me for Secret Santa, it is just THAT GOOD that I want everyone in the world to read it)

Severance

r/severed by curtaincall for LearnedFoot

Welcome to r/severed! This is a subreddit to discuss the experience of severance and provide advice and support to fellow severed people (and friends and family).

Top Gun Maverick

we're fools to make war by whimsicule

In a Walmart at three am, between beef jerky and tortilla chips, with the lights flickering above them like it’s the fucking twilight zone, Bradley wants him more than he’s ever wanted anyone.

or: it's a hundred degrees in texas.

what doesn't kill me makes me want you more by ok_thanks

For Rooster to be his ex-boyfriend, that would require him to have been Jake’s boyfriend in the first place. Which he definitely wasn’t. He was – "Ex-something," Jake coughs. or, the intricate ritual of teasing the guy you've been hooking up with since college that you're definitely not in love with

Men Like Us by DancingDisaster

Seresin men love with reckless abandon. It’s put every man before him in the ground.

Jake refuses to be buried.

[lindsaywesker]

Good morning! I hope you slept well and feel rested? Currently sitting at my desk, in my study, attired only in my blue towelling robe, enjoying my first cuppa of the day.

Welcome to Too Much Information Tuesday. Though one of these facts is a fib!

Minch, Yoda’s first name is.

Bananas have more trade regulations than AK-47s.

About 20% of US children eat pizza on any given day.

In Oklahoma, it's illegal to get a bear drunk and then wrestle it.

The original Popeye got his strength from rubbing a magic hen.

Persistent hiccups can be stopped with a digital rectal massage.

The average IQ of all the serial killers who have been caught is 89.

Samuel L. Jackson was an usher at Martin Luther King Jr.’s funeral.

French employees are forbidden by law from eating lunch at their desks.

Ejaculation from a human typically happens at a speed of around 28 miles per hour.

The longer a whiskey is aged, the longer it takes for your body to get rid of the alcohol.

When the Bakerloo line was last cleaned, staff pulled out 6.5 tonnes of grime and fluff.

American judges give harsher sentences when their football team unexpectedly loses.

In Star Trek, when Mr. Spock says something is “impossible”, it happens 83% of the time.

People suffering from superior canal dehiscence syndrome can hear their own eyeballs moving.

If you make it to the airport without dying, you've already passed the deadliest part of plane travel.

In 2016, the head of MI6 said he wouldn’t hire James Bond because he does not act ethically enough.

The US National Security Agency has asked employees to spy on people with ‘dignity and respect’.

‘Russians in the gazebo’ (‘russere i lysthuset’) is an old-fashioned Danish euphemism for menstruation.

If you wanted to write a letter out of blood you would have to write it in under a minute before the blood thickens too quickly.

Having sex uses on average 2.8 times as much energy as sitting on the sofa, but playing the trombone uses 3.5 times as much.

If you get a blood transfusion but are given the wrong type of blood (A, B, O, AB) one of the symptoms is "a sense of impending doom".

Until the 1840s, there was no maximum size for a rugby team; matches were played with up to 300 players on the pitch at once.

In relationships, the ‘magic ratio’ is 5:1. Having five or more positive interactions for every negative interaction is seen as key to a stable marriage.

There are about 40 supervolcanoes around the world capable of claiming up to a billion lives, and we're about 24,000 years overdue for an eruption!

A flapjack bakery in Lancashire plan to launch a new product in time for Christmas. After extensive research, they’ve come up with a product name: Flaps.

In movies, where they use real life dog actors, the people who edit the film sometimes have to add CGI tails because the dogs can’t stop wagging as they are so happy.

Abraham Lincoln's son (Robert Todd Lincoln) was present at three different presidential assassinations. After McKinley, he decided not to accept any more invitations.

Dragonflies can inhale water through a long tube at the tip of their anus and save it. Later, if they need to, they can shoot the water out of their anus to make them fly faster.

Pythagoras drowned a student to death because the student proved the existence of irrational numbers which contradicted Pythagoras and his cults' (the brotherhood) beliefs.

In 1997, researchers discovered a giant pill millipede. It was given the Latin name ‘Zoosphaerium darthvaderi’ thanks to the shape of its anal shield which resembles Darth Vader’s helmet.

The mayor of San Pedro Huamelula, Mexico is expected to marry an alligator. The tradition dates back to pre-Hispanic times but has been updated. The alligator wears a white wedding dress and the groom kisses the bride.

An early use of ‘asshole’ is found in a 1933 U.S. story about a family called ‘The Eastons’. “When God got the job done, there was a big pile of assholes left over. It looks to me like The Almighty just throwed all them assholes together and made the Easton family.”

Pepsi once had the 6th largest military in the world after the price of Russian Vodka couldn't cover a deal for Pepsi products. They traded 17 submarines, a frigate, a cruiser and a destroyer. The president of Pepsi Co. told National Security, "We are disarming the USSR faster than you are!"

Okay, that’s enough information for one day. Have a tremendous and tumultuous Tuesday! I love you all.

[curlysgirl0202]

HEAD CANNON STORY: JOHNNY RINGO AND CURLY BILL What Would Their Dream Girl Be Like? IN PROGRESS:

Curly Bill:

For old Curly, one thing is for sure; he's definitely not looking for a woman to commit crimes with. Instead, he's looking for a quality woman who will take him away from living life in the dodge. Hanging around the desert like a damn lizard, moving from town to town, running from posses, over zealous deputies, trigger happy sheriffs and greedy bounty hunters. That's just not the life he necessarily chose and although Curly Bill does love a sense of adventure, he didn't become a rustler because it was exciting; he rustled cows because it was more profitable. He sure as hell isn't going to build up a spread for other rustlers to steal. Old Curly would rather do the stealing himself. And in all fairness, it is the one thing he's really good at. With one or two raids in Old Messico he and his boys can live off thousands in silver and Curly can spend his days sunning himself on the porch of a Hacienda dreaming about his perfect woman.

Curly wouldn't want his dream girl to shoot better than he can since that wouldn't sit well with his sizeable ego. And he wouldn't want to put a special lady in a dangerous situation; he'd rather save a woman from that. And have that woman be very, very skillful, loving and attentive when showing her appreciation to him. Curly Bill recalls when Ringo rescued a Mexican ramera from her pimp and Ringo talked about how he wasn't charged and she showered him with gratitude with her strong thighs and mastery of a man's body. Especially his. She regarded him as her savior and Ringo like any other man loves the attention he received.

"Women like that know how to treat a man right!" Curly remembers saying to his cowboys the next morning. So for Curly Bill, one thing his dream lady would have is lots and lots of appreciation, respect and of course love and admiration. A woman who won't make him uncomfortable with admonishing words. Curly's girl wouldn't yell at him or tell him he's had too much even though she may have a right to. He just doesn't want a woman who will dominate him. Since Curly Bill spends most of time dominating other men, he may feel a fire burning inside when he's with a woman who is domineering, but that would eventually burn out.

Curly's got a reputation as a mean drunk and because he's drunk often, he can be mean often. However, although he's known for his loud guffawing, practical jokes and over exaggerated stories, he does have a sympathetic side too. He doesn't like to see his own oppressed or hurt. In the Tombstone film, we see Curly Bill and Ringo look the other way while a Mexican bride is raped by other cowboys. This is gross misrepresentation of Ringo and old Curly; violence against women would never be tolerated by Ringo whether she's an enemy or not. Curly feels the same way; he's mean, sure, but that meanness doesn't necessarily apply to women. Especially a woman who is always happy to see him! Curly Bill would be more confused by your kindness than anything else.

Curly Bill doesn't want to settle down until he absolutely has to. But in his time period, women were scarce and lovely ladies even more so. He understands that the older he gets, the tougher rustling is going to get and he sure as hell doesn't want to retire so he can live alone or with a bunch of surly outlaws who stink most of the time. So let's get to it...

*His dream girl of course would be pretty; to him, she'd be the most attractive woman ever has ever seen and because his heart sees you that way. Curly Bill spends a lot of time in Old Mexico and has come to love women with dark hair and eyes. A smoldering look with lovely dark eyes. Not a woman skinny; he prefers a buxom beauty. A woman with round hips. He has seen plenty of skinny gals hanging around impoverished communities or cowtowns and they don't entice him the way a voluptuous lady would. Eyes that are sweet and warm and welcoming with delight everytime those eyes are on him. Curly is as visual as every other dude. He's a man and likes what he sees. With Curly Bill's large ego, he definitely wants to be a woman other men will want to be with. He would relish in the idea that he's got what other men want. When he's with his dream girl, other men look on with envy. And that fills him with indescribable pride.

*Sweet! Curly Bill spends lots of time on the range where there are no ladies around so just having a woman who wants to be with him (and not because he's paying her) would be a lovely dream. She would bake for him treats such as cookies or pies and she is always so happy to give them to him. He ain't the most polite guy around, but his big smile and loud ode of thanks always gets you to smile. And Curly Bill's dream lady has a smile to die for! When he's sick or recovering, she's always there to comfort the old cowboy; she even spoon feeds him when he's too weak. She'll also trim his mustache for him and wash his stinky clothes. She wouldn't be against his clothes smelling like range duds, but wants him clean and respectable and he cannot help but appreciate that! He wants a woman who is gentle towards others. That is one way of knowing for sure you'll be gentle with him and since the world has proven to be a loveless, lonely and wild place, any amount of gentleness is so welcoming and warm.

*Confident. Not to be confused with arrogance. Curly Bill doesn't want a simp who can't make up her mind or stand up for herself when she needs to. His dream chickie would be courageous and can stand her ground! She will always be loyal and discreet. When Curly Bill is able to handle the situation, she will remain calm and quiet so Bill can feel like a man and not one what needs his woman to fight his battles for him. Curly's dream lady would hold her head high and not let fads, gossip or the opinions of others to dictate her feelings and thoughts or her own opinions. And he loves it that although she's got a good head on her shoulders and a heart of gold that she still needs him and he'll enjoy coming to her rescue.

*Feminine Grace. As mentioned earlier, Curly Bill doesn't want a female version of himself. He wants a woman who is graceful and feminine. She is always dressed elegantly even if she's showing a bit of skin! She has conversations with different types of people and is soft spoken...Not loud like old Curly. She doesn't try to impress Curly Bill by trying to be like him. She is who she is and she is woman who is feminine and charming. She smiles more than she scowls. She enjoys feminine things like sweet perfume, candles, fine wines, music and can introduce Curly to a variety of cultural activities he may scoff at at first, but when he sees the light in her eyes glow bright because he enjoys what she does, he can imagine snuffing that flame out. He may be a little obnoxious when she first introduces the old rustler to fine art of a symphony; he may even fall asleep during a concert dedicated to Mozart. But he'll be enthusiastic just to make her happy. She enjoys wearing her lovely hair down and let us flow as freely as her long, flowy skirts. She's content moving about barefoot around her home.

*Hard Working. Curly Bill's profession is as difficult as it is risky and illegal. When Curly Bill is driving cattle with the other members of the red sash gang, they encounter more dangers in a day than city people do in months. Rattlesnakes, grizzlies, vengeful Apaches or Comanches, other rustlers, bounty hunters, scorpions, dust that could cover a man from head to toe all on about 4 hours of sleep and they did this for weeks! Not too mention the lack of water for bathing. Curly Bill is no stranger to hard work that involves lots of physical labor. When on the Clanton farm, Curly managed the cattle as well as the cowboys, he repaired fences, milked cows (which cowboys don't usually do, but will if they have to), delivered calfs, cleaned stables and made other repairs. So he's not really interested in a lady who likes to be pampered all day. Curly isn't the pampering type. He probably wouldn't be overly doting, but wouldn't mind if you doted over him! When there's work to be done, his lady does it without whining or expecting someone else to do it or finish it. His girl knows how to work whether it's gathering water for bathing, cooking or laundry, baking or preparing meals and keeping the house comfortable for both of them. She'll put the fresh flowers he picks for her into vases to brighten their home and his home would always have the aroma of baked delights such as cookies and pies.

*Appreciative Appreciative Appreciative....Curly Bill , King of the Cowboys and has an enormous ego and he needs that ego stroked the way he needs his hair and other parts of his body stroked...He will shield you from danger, fight at your side, work hard for you and keep you as comfortable as a cowboy can. He'll make sure you are not stuck sleeping in a tent or anywhere that's not cozy for you. He'll take good care of you or at least as well as a cowboy can and he's definitely a man who needs to know he's appreciated. His dream girl would show her appreciation by making Curly Bill feel like a man. His dream love would be eager to make love to him to show him how much she delights in him and she will also show her gratitude by baking him his favorite treats.

*Patient. If you're looking for a sentimental junkie, don't turn to Curly Bill. He's never had a reason to be like that. Curly Bill likes to drink and have fun and doesn't want that fun spoiled by anyone. He's an outlaw and doesn't like following rules. So he'll need a lady who's patient with him when he's had too much or he's acting obnoxious. She won't yell or admonish him in front of his friends, but may in private express her concerns and her genuine concerns will always be welcomed.

[notafunkiller]

YES! It drives me crazy that Ale got hate for things that literally came down to a cultural difference. Americans are obsessed with this idea of cultural appropriation and I think that is very hypocritical in a country that is just a melting pot/mixed bag of other cultures. I love sharing my culture with others and I love when they share theirs with me.

Newsflash to all the American fans on their high horses: If you are SO angry about cultural appropriation, then stop eating Chinese food if you aren’t Chinese. Stop going to Amalfi lemon themed bridal showers if the bride isn’t Italian. Stop going to Mexican restaurants on your birthday so you can have a massive sombrero put on your head by the staff as they sing you Happy Birthday. That sounds miserable, doesn’t it?

Stopping life in the name of a moral high ground is just ridiculous. It’s one thing to stand up against the use of racial or ethnic slurs, or to be upset by offensive images/depictions of certain cultures/races/ethnicities. It’s another to force people into boxes because YOU think it’s offensive for people to celebrate other cultures.

And for what it’s worth, to further add to what the previous anon said, there’s a huge difference between Ale attending that “Mexican party” (which was still in poor taste when you consider Spain’s history with Mexico) and AW using the g slur. To further spell it out: one is something done in poor taste due to cultural disconnect, the other is the use of a literal slur knowing FULL WELL that that word is off limits in the twenty-first century.

!

[marymerchandice]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: NEW Modelo Beer One Piece Bathing Suit Large.

[sathimilap]

Across Cultures with Wedgate Matrimony

In a world as diverse as ours, love finds expression in countless ways, especially during the sacred union of marriage. Let's embark on a cultural journey with Wedgate Matrimony as we delve into standout wedding traditions that uniquely celebrate love across different corners of the globe.

Mehndi Magic in India: A Canvas of Love

In the heart of India, Wedgate Matrimony witnesses the enchanting Mehndi ceremony, a tradition that transforms the bride's hands and feet into a canvas of intricate henna designs. This vibrant and colorful pre-wedding celebration is not only a feast for the eyes but a symbolic representation of love, joy, and the weaving together of two destinies.

Senbazuru in Japan: Folding a Thousand Cranes of Commitment

As we explore Japanese wedding traditions on Wedgate Matrimony, we encounter the art of folding a thousand origami cranes, or "senbazuru." This intricate and patient act becomes a shared endeavor for the couple, symbolizing luck, longevity, and the endurance of love, echoing the commitment they make to each other.

Quaich Ceremony in Scotland: Sharing the Elixir of Love

Weddings in Scotland, as witnessed by Wedgate Matrimony, often feature the Quaich Ceremony. The couple sips from a two-handled silver cup, the Quaich, symbolizing the shared journey ahead. This ritual speaks volumes about unity, support, and the intertwining of two lives in a bond that can weather the storms.

Lasso Ritual in Mexico: Binding Love with Floral Grace

In the warmth of Mexican traditions observed by Wedgate Matrimony, the Lasso Ritual takes center stage. A floral garland or rosary is draped around the couple, forming a figure-eight shape. This symbolizes the eternal bond of marriage, with the loop representing the everlasting commitment to support and cherish one another.

Kissing Tradition in Sweden: A Playful Display of Affection

The Swedish wedding celebration, witnessed by Wedgate Matrimony, introduces us to the charming Kissing Tradition. As one partner leaves the room, guests playfully shower the remaining spouse with kisses. This lighthearted gesture adds a touch of playfulness to the event while symbolizing the constant connection between the couple.

Spraying Money in Nigeria: Showering Prosperity on Love

Nigerian weddings, documented by Wedgate Matrimony, feature the "spraying" tradition. As the couple dances, guests shower them with money, symbolizing prosperity and good fortune for their shared life ahead. This lively tradition reflects the community's wish for the couple's abundance and happiness.

Conclusion

Wedgate Matrimony invites us to witness the kaleidoscope of love celebrated through diverse wedding traditions worldwide. Each ritual is a testament to the richness of human connection and the unique ways in which cultures express the universal theme of love. As we explore these traditions, we find that love, indeed, is a global language spoken in myriad enchanting dialects. .

[lessthanpure]

A Love Supreme Seems Far Removed Chapter 1

Fandom: Elementary

Relationships: Tommy Gregson/Sherlock Holmes

Tags: female Sherlock Holmes, Western AU

Summary: Thomas Gregson is a man in want of a wife. Sherlock Holmes is a woman in want of getting out. Can they help each other?

Rating: Explicit (not yet, but it will be)

Wordcount: 5360

Notes: Ok so I was stuck on titling this until i found a fantastic generator that spits out hozier song lyrics. Perfect. I might have chosen a basic-ass one, but it seemed to fit. Other possible options were: reasons wretched and divine, Found me just in time, and Only blue or black days. If y'all want to use one of those, OR the generator yourselves! Here it is.

AO3 Link

Sherlock Holmes is a woman of means. So her father expressly forbade her sending the letter to the mail-order bride company. But she had been on a ship to America before he realized she was even gone. 

Sherlock hopes that any man who puts in an order for her is at least kind. She sighs and leans herself on the railing of the ship. She also hopes that America is drier and more free than England, though she’s read many novels and newspapers detailing the culture. 

Tommy Gregson just wants some companionship. After Cheryl…he needs a change. So when his deputies had dropped the small bound pamphlet in front of him, he had read it in curiosity. He had stilled when he realized what exactly the pages detailed. Brides, ready for men to just…marry. He still gives the papers a thorough read, just to get his deputies off his back, but none catch his eye until the very last page three weeks later. Sherlock Holmes. An odd first name, for sure. But he finds himself reading her description. 5’9, tall for a woman. And slight, as well. 28 years old, black hair, blue eyes, fair skin…he can picture her. So he looks through the pages detailing the process for such a thing. There are ways to talk before he decides. Letters. He nods to himself, alone in his room, and writes to the company, asking for her address. 

Sherlock checks the post every day, looking for any letters from possible…’suitors’ isn't the best word…’potential husbands’ is more accurate. But it’s weeks before she gets one. She takes it to her room and opens it eagerly. She examines the handwriting first- neat penmanship, which pleases her. That means the man takes care in everything he does. She reads the letter.

Ms. Holmes, the greeting says, which makes her even more pleased- not overly familiar. The house she’s in, with other mail-order brides, the women had said that the men that write often use the woman's first name or even a nickname like they know each other. There are the rare ones that write something sappy like ‘to my dearest love’ or what have you. She reads the letter.

I am writing to you to see if we would be a good match. My name is Thomas Gregson and I’m the Sheriff in Silver Road, New Mexico. I admit, I’ve never done something like this before. But I’m willing to give this a try because some companionship would be nice. 

Since I have an idea of what you look like, I guess it’s only fair for you to have an idea of what I look like. I’m thirty-two, six feet tall, and going gray. I’ve spent my whole life in Silver Road. The town has a sheriff’s office, a saloon, a jail, a courthouse, and several houses. I live outside of town, in a house with a bedroom, a kitchen, a bathroom, and a front porch. 

Let me know if you'd like to correspond,

Thomas Gregson

Sherlock hums, pleased. This Thomas Gregson, he seems both polite and honest. He also didn't force the issue, he asked for her permission for them to write each other. She picks up a pen and paper, and starts to write a reply. She goes through a draft, crossing out words that don’t seem to fit, before she’s happy with the result.

Gregson opens the envelope when he gets home. The penmanship is gorgeous and he raises an eyebrow at it. It almost looks like she comes from money, or at least was schooled like she was. He reads the letter. 

Mr. Gregson.

As you might expect, my name is Sherlock Holmes, and I’m from London England. There’s really so much to explain to a person that just one letter, especially an introductory one, comes nowhere close to touching what they are truly like. 

As far as myself, I am also looking for companionship. It’s the reason I wrote to the company- I was not driven by desperation, like some of the poor women at the home I am currently staying in. There’s no bad past behind me. Just an open future.

I appreciate that you asked for permission for us to write one another- it shows that you’re a good man. Consider this to be a formal invitation for us to continue to correspond. 

Silver Road- and you- sound incredibly interesting, and I look forward to learning more about both.

I look forward to receiving your next letter,

Sherlock Holmes

Gregson hums. It’s a brief letter, and she hadn’t revealed much about herself. But Sherlock is right- one letter isn’t enough. He’s looking forward to more.

There’s several weeks of correspondence between the two before she agrees to come to him. She’s antsy on the train, looking out the windows as the somewhat familiar city disappears in favor of empty land. 

When she arrives in Silver Road, she disembarks the train. Tommy- as he had insisted she called him- had said he would wear his uniform so he’s easily recognizable, and she looks for a star pinned to a brown shirt. 

She soon finds it and looks at him from afar, hidden among the other passengers. Tommy is looking at every female passenger, probably wondering which one she is. He’s a handsome man, prematurely going gray as he described. It’s dashing. He’s tall and well-built, but not overly wide. He has a sinewy strength to him she quite likes. Before she takes a stride towards him, they meet eyes. She walks to him, her luggage in hand. He meets her. “Tommy,” she asks.

He nods. “Sherlock?” He has an accent, of course (everyone does), but it’s light and he uses it gently.

“Yes.”

“Mind if I take those,” he points at her suitcases. 

“They’re light,” she says. He nods and doesn’t push. 

“I didn’t expect the train to be late,” he says. “I apologize for that.”

“You don't control that. It was an interesting wait,” she replies. “Plenty of people to talk to, but most just wanted me to pronounce different things,” she rolls her eyes.

Tommy chuckles. “We don’t get many people from England ‘round here.” 

“So I gathered.” 

“Please, follow me,” he says, standing aside. She does. “Unfortunately, our judge doesn’t marry anyone after three in the afternoon," he starts as he walks beside her. "So you’re welcome to stay with me until the morning when we can be wed.”

“An unmarried woman staying with a man,” she questions.

“I won’t-” he stops himself. “I don’t expect you to have sex with me,” he says. “I just thought it would be nice to have somewhere safe to rest your head.”

“Is there a hotel in town?”

“Not much of one,” he admits. “It’s a few rooms above the saloon.” He snorts. “Most of them are rented by the hour.”

“It pulls double duty as a brothel,” she asks, surprised. He nods. She hums. “Does it have a flat rate for a night?”

“Yes.”

“Then there I shall stay.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

He nods again. “I’ll show you the way.”

Tommy brings her outside the train station and to a carriage. He steps up and offers his hand, and she takes it to let him help her up. He settles into the seat and picks up the reins, urging the horse into movement. “No one would think less of you for staying with me,” he assures her, looking at her. “We are to be married, after all.”

“I doubt that,” Sherlock says, voice dry. 

“The West is not a savage land.”

Sherlock doesn’t reply. The rest of the ride is silent until they pull up to a two-story building. Music is flowing out of the doors, even though they’re shut. After Tommy helps her out, the doors open and two men come flying out. Sherlock quickly side-steps the brawling men. 

“Knock that off,” Tommy demands. He waits for his moment and seizes one of the men, hauling him up with ease. Sherlock feels a shudder run through her at his easy strength. Tommy shoves the man away and gets between the irate men. “Go home, cool off,” he says, and one man grumbles and walks away. Tommy turns when he’s away and looks at the second man. “You too, Horace.”

Horace walks off. 

“Still want to spend the night here,” Tommy asks. 

“Yes.”

Tommy nods. He pushes the doors open and holds one open for her, and she steps inside. The building doesn’t offer much relief from the hot sun. There are several games of cards being played, a bar with plenty of alcohol, and women walking around, putting glasses in front of various men and some even sitting on laps. She follows Tommy to the bar. 

“John,” Tommy calls, and the bartender turns. 

“Sheriff,” John says, approaching him. “What can I do for you?”

“I need a room for the night,” he says. John glances behind him, to Sherlock.

“This your soon-to-be bride?”

“Yes,” Sherlock says. 

“I’ll have Charlie send you up,” John nods. “Charlie!”

A woman soon appears. “Yes, John?”

“This lady needs a room for the night. Give her 4.”

“Sure thing.”

“What’s the cost for the night,” Sherlock asks.

“I’ll pay,” Tommy says.

“That’s not what I asked.”

“Sherlock, you’re to be my wife. You don’t have to pay.”

“How much for the night?”

John says the cost. Tommy glares at him. 

Sherlock nods and sets her luggage down, drawing out her purse. 

“Sherlock-”

“I’ll pay, Tommy.”

She hands over the money and John accepts it. 

There’s a crash and Tommy steps to Sherlock, putting his back to her. Protecting her. It warms her.

“Sheriff,” the man in front of a small group of men says, smiling. The men behind him look rough. Every one of them is carrying a pistol. 

“Moriarty,” Tommy greets cooly. 

“I thought you were an ‘honorable man,’” Moriarty mocks the last two words. “Never figured you’d buy a loose woman.”

Sherlock scowls at Tommy’s back. 

“What do you care what I do,” Tommy asks. Moriarty comes closer with two men while the other four go to tables. 

Moriarty steps to his right and looks at Sherlock as best as he can. Tommy steps in front of her again, but not enough to completely block her from view. Moriarty drags his eyes down her body. “God damn, Sheriff. This one wasn’t here when I was last,” he says, cocking his head. “I might just have to buy a few nights with her myself.”

“Moriarty,” Tommy says warningly.

“What? Is she your personal whore,” Moriarty laughs. His eyes light up after a second. “Hold up,” he says. “She’s got suitcases. Did you send off for a bride, Sheriff?”

“Sherlock, go upstairs,” Tommy says without looking at her. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Tommy-”

“Go.”

Charlie stands next to Sherlock and she looks at her. The woman looks frightened. Sherlock nods and follows her. 

“Who is Moriarty,” Sherlock asks when they’re in her room for the night.

“A bounty hunter,” the woman replies quietly. “One that always brings his bounties dead rather than alive.” Sherlock nods. “Stay in here tonight, lock the door. Don’t go out until the morning.”

“Alright,” Sherlock says. She knows she can hold her own, but it’s always good to meet people who don’t fight in the first place. Men who don’t turn sour when the bottle runs out or when they lose a hand of cards. "Thank you. Goodnight." Charlie leaves, politely closing the door behind her. Sherlock walks to it and locks it. She gets ready for bed and goes to sleep. 

The next morning, Sherlock wakes early and gets dressed. She packs everything up so she's ready whenever Tommy comes. She walks downstairs and goes to John, who's oddly still tending bar. She thought there would be a fresh bartender. 

"Morning," John says once she's close enough. 

"Good morning."

"The Sheriff hasn't come by yet."

Sherlock nods. "I thought as much."

There are fewer men in the establishment than there had been last night, but still over a dozen. She looks around. Most of them drunks, some of them gamblers, some whoremongers. She can pick out exactly who is who, of course. She turns back to John. "May I stay down here so I can see the Sheriff when he comes?"

"Do whatever you want." Sherlock nods and settles at a table. "Want breakfast," he calls.

"Please." 

A woman with a low cut dress is soon there. "What can I get you," she asks. 

"What do most people get?"

"Grits and eggs."

"That's fine." The woman nods and walks off.

There’s a stampede of footsteps and Sherlock looks up. Moriarty and his men are coming down the stairs. John appears at her table, sitting in the available chair. 

“Look who I found,” Moriarty crows. “The Sheriff’s mail-order bride,” he says. He stops near her table a few paces back. “Are you one of them virgin ones,” he asks. Sherlock glares at him. “Aw, come on sweetheart. I’m just asking a polite question.”

“No, you’re asking an invasive one.”

“Well, well, well. You ain’t from around here.”

“What tipped you off,” she cocks her head. Moriarty glares and takes a step forward. A black man in a brown shirt appears in front of her with his back to her. He has a pistol in his belt.

“Deputy,” Moriarty greets. 

“Moriarty. I believe you’ve been told to leave this lady alone.”

“It’s just a friendly conversation, Deputy.”

A woman comes out and puts a plate in front of Sherlock. She looks at it, seeing eggs and a truly strange pile of…something. These must be the grits. She looks up again, not wanting to look away from Moriarty for very long. He’s a dangerous man. Sherlock can hold her own with her hands, the pistol at her ankle, and the knife in her boot, but she’d rather not risk it. 

“Enjoy your meal, darlin’,” Moriarty says. He has the same accent as Tommy, but his is much harsher. He turns and walks to a nearby table, joined by a few of his men. The deputy doesn’t move. Neither does John. Sherlock eats her breakfast, enjoying the eggs and tolerating the grits. Food is fuel, nothing else, but there’s better fuel available. Perhaps not in Silver Road, though. 

She hasn’t been done two minutes when Tommy appears at her side. “Ready,” he asks. Sherlock nods and stands. “I’ll help you with your things.” He offers his arm and Sherlock takes it, leading him to her room. He grabs her suitcases and brings her downstairs without a word. He keeps himself between her and the room. 

“Have a nice day with your bride, Sheriff,” Moriarty calls loudly. “I’ll be seeing you.”

“Goodbye, Moriarty.”

Tommy brings Sherlock outside and into a carriage. He helps her in like he had before and they go to a building. He helps her down and they walk inside. He relaxes once in, which makes Sherlock relax. 

“The judge will marry us here,” he says.

She nods. The judge soon appears and performs the ceremony.

Sherlock walks out of the courthouse a married woman with her husband beside her. He helps her in. “My deputies insisted they give me the day off today,” Tommy says as they get into the carriage. “So I’ll bring you home.”

“Alright.”

Tommy brings her outside town to a modest house and they go inside, Tommy holding her suitcase. “One is light,” he notes once he opens the door for her. She walks inside. “What did you bring? More specifically, what did you leave behind?”

“Is that important,” she asks. 

“I guess not,” he says. “Follow me.”

She does, and he brings her to his room. He sets the suitcases on the bed. “Get settled in,” he nods. “Did you eat?”

“Yes. Eggs and grits.”

“Ah, I don’t like grits myself.”

“Me neither.” Tommy chuckles and Sherlock likes the sound.

“I’ll be sure not to make you any, then.”

“Make me any,” she repeats.

“I’ve been alone for some time, Sherlock. I do know how to cook.”

“And you don’t expect your wife to do that?”

“If you want to, you can, but no I don’t expect it.”

“You’re a strange man, Tommy.”

“I choose to take that as a compliment.” He smiles gently. “That one’s your dresser,” he points. She nods. He leaves and closes the door behind him. She unpacks her meager belongings and puts them away. She’ll get more here. She can sew well enough with the machine she brought, so fabric will do just fine. She often has to get clothes tailored to fit her tall frame anyway. Sherlock steps out of the room and finds Tommy in the main area, sitting on a couch. He stands when he sees her. “All good,” he asks.

“Yes.”

“Good.” He pauses, unsure for the first time. “I gotta be honest. I don’t have many days off, so I’m not sure what I’m gonna do today. Especially with a new wife,” he laughs. Sherlock finds her mind filled with just exactly what Tommy can do with a new wife. She feels her face warm and Tommy must see it. “I’ll wait until you’re ready, Sherlock,” he says, walking to her. “I’m not an impatient man.”

She smiles. “Thank you.”

“Sheriff,” a desperate voice calls outside, and Tommy runs out, Sherlock following him. There’s a man outside, eyes wide with fear. “There’s a fire in town!”

“Where,” Tommy demands.

“Watson’s house!”

“Fuck! Sherlock, stay here,” Tommy demands. 

“I can help!”

“I want you safe! Stay. Here.”

“What if Moriarty comes by,” she challenges.

Tommy glares and grits his teeth. “Do you know how to ride a horse?”

“Yes.”

“Follow me.”

She does, finding two horses hitched to a fence. On the fence are two saddles, one normal and one side. He hefts the side saddle in his arms (again warming her with his strength) and quickly does the buckles. Sherlock steps forward and does the side facing her. Tommy gets his own horse ready with the help of the man, and they all get on their horses. The men turn theirs towards town, and Sherlock follows. Tommy urges his horse quickly, and she races after him. Soon, they’re in town and there are people yelling at each other as they carry buckets. Tommy stops his horse outside a building and gets down, running. Sherlock hops off and follows him, hitching her dress up so she can move quickly. They get to a building engulfed in flames. “Is Watson inside,” Tommy demands of the closest man. 

“No!”

“Good.” He turns. “Sherlock, this is Brad. He’ll show you where the well is. Go.”

Sherlock nods and follows Brad. They both get two buckets and bring them back. Sherlock looks at the house, quickly assessing where exactly she needs to throw the water. She takes her buckets and goes around the side, putting one on the ground. She uses the other and precisely throws it on the source of the fire. It goes out. She brings the second bucket around and uses it at another source. She helps the townsfolk put out the fire and Tommy is soon next to her. He sighs. “Never seen a fire that big. But we put it out fast.”

“There were multiple spots of origin.”

“How do you know that,” he asks, looking at her. 

“Someone set that fire.”

“But why?”

“Haven’t the foggiest idea. Who’s Watson,” Sherlock asks, turning to face him. He has soot on his cheek so she takes out her handkerchief and wipes it away. He stills. She cleans him up and folds the cloth again. 

“My right hand deputy,” Tommy replies. He offers his arm and she accepts. They walk together and Tommy brings her to the jail. They walk inside and Sherlock sees a Chinese woman inside, fingers steepled in front of her face. There are a few men around, silent. 

“Watson,” Tommy says, walking to the woman. Sherlock is surprised and follows him. 

“Sheriff,” she stands. “You were supposed to have a day off.”

“Fuck that, your house was on fire.”

“I wasn’t inside,” Watson says. She looks at Sherlock. “This your new wife,” she asks, a smile playing at her lips. 

“Yes. Meet Sherlock,” he introduces. “Sherlock, this is Joan Watson.”

“Pleasure,” Sherlock says. “I’m sorry about your home.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Gregson.” Sherlock startles- of course, her name is different now. 

“Just Sherlock, please.” 

Joan looks at Tommy, who nods. “Sherlock says that the fire was started in multiple places.”

“How do you know,” she asks Sherlock.

“I read a lot,” she shrugs. 

“Where was the fire started,” Joan asks.

“The east side of your home, right in the middle of the base of the wall, the west side the same, the north side on either side of the door and in the center of your house,” she replies. 

“Five,” Tommy demands. She nods. “How do you know, Sherlock?”

“Simple deduction, really,” she says. Tommy listens to Sherlock explain. She’s smart, and he doesn’t know how she saw what she did. 

“Impressive,” he nods. She smiles a little. She doesn’t get told that enough, Gregson realizes. I’ll tell her that every day. “Did you see anything else? Something that would tell us who set it, maybe?”

Sherlock shakes her head. “No, the fire and water must have burned and washed away everything I could have used.”

“Sheriff,” Watson says, and he looks at her. “I think we all know who probably set it.”

“Moriarty,” Tommy says. “But you know we can’t just arrest him, even though Lord knows I want to. He has too many friends in high places.” Tommy sighs and Sherlock moves immediately, dropping his arm and gently rubbing his upper back. He relaxes under her fingers. 

Sherlock sees his deputies looking at her, but she ignores them for now. Right now, Tommy needs some reassurance. “You’ll get him,” she says. “From what I’ve seen so far, I know you will.” Tommy looks at her and smiles a little. He huffs a laugh. He straightens and Sherlock stills her hand and slowly removes it even though she doesn’t really want to. His back is muscled and she wants to keep touching him. She warms and looks away from him. She still puts her hand in his offered arm.

“Alright,” Tommy says, and his deputies look at him. “Keep an eye on Moriarty, and keep your wits about you. We don’t know what he might do next. Watson, you can stay with me,” he says. 

“No thanks, Sheriff. Bell already offered his guest room,” Watson says. 

“Thanks, Bell,” Tommy says as he looks at a short black man. He was the one guarding her at the saloon that morning. Bell nods. “Sherlock, do you mind if I work today,” he asks.

“Sheriff,” Watson complains. “We have this covered. Spend time with your wife.”

“Watson, someone destroyed your home. I’m not taking a day off until Moriarty is taken care of.”

“Sheriff-”

“Watson,” Tommy cuts her off. “Sherlock and I have time,” he says. “I want him either in cuffs or out of town. I won’t rest until one happens.”

Watson looks at Sherlock briefly. “It’s alright, Deputy,” Sherlock assures her. “Like Tommy said, we have time,” she smiles gently. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Tommy smiles in her periphery and touches her hand. 

“Thanks, Sheriff,” Watson says. 

“Good. Now I want to go ask Moriarty some hard questions. Bell, with me. Watson, if you would stay here and make sure Sherlock’s alright.”

“You’re making me sit out,” Watson asks, incredulous.

“You need time to process,” Tommy says gently. “I promise, when the time comes you get to put the cuffs on him.” Watson pauses and nods. “Good. O’Malley, go see if you can round up the men Moriarty brought. Take Grell with you. Fulton, Hobbs, Wells. Once they’re found, separate them. Let me be clear- no one goes alone. Twos and threes. Got it?”

“Yes, Sheriff,” Watson nods. 

“And Ripley,” he says, looking at a woman with no badge. “Stay with Watson and Sherlock.”

“Yes, Sheriff.”

“Alright.” Tommy looks at Sherlock. 

“Be safe,” Sherlock says, taking her hand out of his arm. He catches it and presses a kiss to the back of her fingers. 

“I will.”

He walks out with most of his deputies, leaving Sherlock and the other two women alone. Sherlock looks at them. “Nice to meet you,” Watson extends her hand. 

“You as well. Do you prefer I call you Joan or Watson,” she asks as she shakes it.

“Joan,” she nods.

“Then Joan it shall be.” She turns to the other woman. “And is Ripley your given or surname,” she asks.

“My first,” Ripley replies. "So you can call me Ripley." Sherlock nods and smiles. 

"Please, call me Sherlock."

"Odd, isn't it," Ripley asks. Sherlock furrows her eyebrows. "Being called by a different last name," she clarifies. 

"I'll get used to it," Sherlock says. And she does hope she does. 

"You do," Ripley smiles. 

"So what do you do here, Ripley," Sherlock asks. 

"I work the front desk," she explains. "But don't you worry, I can handle a shotgun as well as any deputy."

"I'm not worried," Sherlock replies. She isn't, surprisingly. She trusts Tommy to protect her. 

"Where are you from," Joan asks. 

"London, England." 

"You're a long way from home."

"I haven't considered London home in quite some time," Sherlock admits. 

"Why not," Ripley asks. 

"Ever since my mother passed thirteen years ago, my father has been quite distant."

"How long were they together," Joan asks.

“Forty years,” Sherlock says. The women nod and look sympathetic. 

“I’m sorry,” Joan says.

“It isn't your fault,” Sherlock smiles. “But thank you.” She looks out the door. “Should we get my horse,” she asks. “Unburden it?”

“I’ll come with you,” Joan says and stands. Sherlock nods, knowing that they won’t accept any of her protests. The women walk out and Sherlock takes the reins of her horse. The horse nickers and pushes her nose into her cheek. Sherlock smiles and strokes down her forehead. She leads the horse to the hitching post in front of the jail and ties her to it. She unbuckles the saddle and Joan helps her put it on the rail. Sherlock pats the animal fondly and walks inside with Joan. Joan stands behind a chair and gestures at it, offering it to Sherlock. 

“I’m alright, but thank you.”

“So what made you choose the Sheriff,” Ripley asks. 

“Truthfully, he was the first one to write to me. But as we wrote more to each other,” Sherlock trails off. “I’m not sure, it felt like…we understood each other.” She smiles and looks at her boots. “That must not make much sense. We’re strangers.”

“There are some people you just bond with,” Joan says. Sherlock looks up and smiles softly when there’s no judgment in her voice. “And it feels like you’ve known each other for years.”

“Exactly.” Sherlock wants to ask, but Ripley and Joan are hardly impartial.

“What is it, Sherlock,” Joan asks.

“Nothing.”

“Sherlock.”

She pauses. “The Sheriff…is he a good man?”

“The best,” Joan nods. “He’s the only Sheriff for miles who’s an honest man and keeps women and black men on his staff.”

“And behind closed doors?”

“He’s never done anything untoward,” Ripley promises her. “Not towards me, Joan, or any other woman in town.”

“Then,” Sherlock starts. She holds her tongue. 

“Then why hasn’t he found a wife,” Joan asks, smiling. Sherlock nods. “He’s committed to his work. He hasn’t had the time. But everyone needs companionship. So a few deputies kept dropping catalogs on his desk,” she laughs. “He would read them, but quickly. Until he saw your name.” Sherlock’s cheeks warm. “I think he thinks you understand him, too,” Joan continues. “He’s been nervous since you told him you’d come.” She warms further, and Joan smiles reassuringly. “You’ll see,” she promises. Sherlock nods. 

The day draws on and Sherlock gets to know the women. When the sun has almost set, Tommy walks in with a few men. Sherlock looks up, concerned. “No luck,” he says. “Sherlock, let’s go home." She nods and stands.

“It was nice meeting and getting to know you both,” Sherlock says. “You too, Sherlock,” Joan says, and Ripley nods, smiling. Sherlock goes to Tommy and takes his offered arm. He leads her outside and her horse is ready. She gets on and he gets on his own horse. Two men escort them home, and then Tommy sends them off once they’ve arrived. 

Sherlock and Tommy look at each other for a moment. “Do you want a bath,” Tommy offers. “I can draw you one.”

Sherlock pauses. “A bath sounds lovely, thank you.”

Tommy nods and walks. Sherlock pauses and then goes to his- their- room, picking out some sleeping clothes. She drapes them over her arm and goes towards the sound of Tommy preparing a bath for her. He’s sitting on the edge of the tub, pouring hot water in. He looks up at her approach. “Check the temperature,” Tommy says, standing. “Make sure it’s alright.”

Sherlock nods and puts her clothes on a stool, going to him. She checks the water and nods. “Perfect, Tommy. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

He leaves the room, closing the door behind himself. Sherlock undresses and gets in the bath, washing up. It’s nice having time to do this, instead of on the train when she could only freshen up. She can get clean, wash away the grime of travel. She washes every part of her and her hair, and then dries herself and gets dressed. She braids her hair, walking to their room. She pauses outside the door and finishes the braid before tying it and knocking on the door. “Come in.”

Sherlock opens the door and Tommy is still dressed. “I could draw you another bath,” she offers. “The hot water will help you relax.”

“I’ll do it.”

“Tommy. You’ve done so much for me, just let me help.”

“Sherlock, you don’t have to.”

“I want to.”

“Alright.” Tommy helps her empty the tub and Sherlock draws a fresh one for him, standing aside to let him check the temperature. “Perfect, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Sherlock pauses, unsure, but leaves the room, closing the door behind herself. 

Tommy undresses, thinking. He has a wife now. A beautiful one, too. He had read her description, but it didn’t come close to actually describing her. He gets in the tub, sighing. He closes his eyes and puts his head back. Sherlock’s right- the hot water helps. Fucking Moriarty. He causes nothing but trouble, but he’s never done something like this. Assaults, yes. Harassing, yes. But never setting fires, and certainly nothing to any deputy. He scrubs himself clean and then dries off, belatedly realizing he didn’t bring any clothes with him. I’m a fucking idiot. He wraps the towel around his hips and walks to the bedroom door, knocking.

“Come in.”

Tommy does, and Sherlock is already lying in bed. Her eyes dart down his chest to the towel, and then she looks away from him completely. “You don’t have to knock,” she says.

“You did.”

“Force of habit.”

He nods and goes to his dresser, pulling on pants. He puts the towel in the laundry and goes back, emptying the tub. He steels himself outside for a moment before he heads back in. He opens the bedroom door without knocking and Sherlock looks up. “Tomorrow we can get you whatever you need,” he promises as he stands beside the bed. He pauses and Sherlock flicks the blanket back. He gets in. 

“That sounds nice,” she replies. “I can sew well enough, so just fabric is fine. I always had to alter my clothes anyway,” she continues as Tommy settles in. She looks at him. “Do you want to sleep right now?”

“Don’t go to sleep on my account.”

“No, I’m tired.” Sherlock reaches and turns off her lamp. Tommy turns and does the same. “Goodnight, Tommy.”

“Goodnight, Sherlock.”

[michel-tanguy]

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The 26 Greatest Locations To obtain Bridal Event Attire On the web Of 2023

Content

What Is The optimum International Internet dating Site?

Exactly what are The Benefits Of By using a Bridal Organization?

However , when you happen to be speaking about overseas girls, there are a big difference. Many of those girls would like to return remain in America or perhaps date a north american in their house land.

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You see, being a lot as I like joining with and casually courting Latinas, I just acknowledge that I’m finding a bit aged and extra develop fully (relatively, in least). And, as Im sure most of you realize, following reaching a sure number of steps on the bedpost, the entire running after women just for the sake of it tends to turn to ash in your mouth. Today I’ll become talking about possibly the best places to locate a spouse in Latin America…or at the very least, a severe significant other. Internet systems are a true blessing of modern days as they license discovering like on-line. You can choose from many marital relationship and matchmaking agencies, websites, and tools full of amazing women commited to search out true feelings and associate overseas. It could possibly seem mad, however put in place marriages have been popular during historical past, and submit order wives are simply a little extra contemporary ideas of it.

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[4lexnilsen]

“oh,  i bet you only married me because you thought i’d be a bestselling author with millions in my bank account in no time,  but here we are.   my book’s still unpublished,  and i can barely afford to pay the bills on time.   and so you never took my last name because…   you don’t really love me,”   he laughs,  coming up with a story of his own,  seeing how their silly little conversation is amusing the brunette and deciding to keep it going.   he enjoys it just as much,  but it’s the look on her face,  hazel hues alight with happiness even if only for a moment,  that he truly adores.  

“told them that you —   what?!”   alex’s complexion becomes ghostly pale in a matter of seconds,  eyes widening in shock because he doesn’t recall colt telling him about this hydrocodone allergy and he’s almost certain they’ve been giving it to her…   he’s ready to jump off the bed and run straight to the nurses’ station when abilene’s laugh reaches his ears.   “hey.”   he frowns,  realizing he’s been tricked and gently elbowing her arm,  mindful of the bruising on her skin.   “you almost gave me a heart attack with that one!”   he shakes his head,  poking around in his lasagna and pretending to be grumpy,  even if he’s just really amused. 

“ohhh,  in mexico!   how fancy of us.”   it’s impossible to keep frowning when she’s saying things like this,  making his cheeks ache from smiling instead.   his heart constricting,  trying to picture her in a white dress at a beautiful beach in mexico,  clear blue skies above them,  waves crashing against the shore,  sun beaming down on them…   “that’s so true.   i actually thought the priest was asking me if i wanted to go grab dinner at this one local restaurant later on and i accidentally said sí,  quiero.   to the dinner,  not to the bride.   and i was so unprepared,  i was probably wearing khakis,  too,”   he laughs,  playing along.

“hey…   you saved me,  too.   in more ways than i thought was possible.   you saved me on the fire escape,  and been saving me ever since.   i don’t know what i’d do without you,”   he whispers,  growing serious when she does.   he sets his plate aside and opens his arms,  silently inviting abilene in for a hug.   a real hug.   “baby,  don’t you worry about me,  okay?   i’m good.   the boys are good.   even mama kitty’s doing okay.   we all just miss you real bad,  can’t wait for you to come home.   speaking of that,  i brought you some gifts to make this place feel less foreign.”   but he doesn’t want to move away from her just yet,  wants to keep holding her.

❛ so i didn't take your last name and you don't know what i'm allergic to ? you are a bad husband . ❜ abilene was teasing him , of course , and nudged his shoulder slightly . she liked the teasing , for a moment she could pretend like they were in one of their apartments joking around like friends and not to the reality of the situation . she could ignore her pounding head and churning stomach , the tenderness of bruises and muscles , and how cold she was in the thin gown . abilene took another small bite of the spaghetti .

❛ you did tell them that i go into anaphylaxis if i have hydrocodone , right ? ❜ she let the statement sit for just a moment , and then nudged him again with a quiet laugh . ❛ i'm joking , i don't have any allergies . ❜ abilene leaned her head on his shoulder , sitting beside him with their trays of olive garden in their laps . it was almost like a date , she thought , if one could forget the setting entirely . his laugh was just enough to pull her out of her thoughts and back to him . him and their fake wedding .

❛ we got married in mexico , which is like twenty minutes away from home . ❜ abilene decided . ❛ so we could have a destination wedding . ❜ she snorted , chewing the spaghetti slowly as she didn't trust her stomach to accept it quite yet . ❛ the whole ceremony was in spanish , of course , so you didn't know what you were agreeing to . ❜ abilene let her eyes slip shut .

she would have been dead if not for him . she remembered alex wrapping a towel around her and holding her so gently before everything went dark again and she wondered what could have happened if he hadn't shown up . dead . she opened her eyes and cuddled closer to him , her arms wrapped around just one of his .

❛ i wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you . ❜ she spoke quietly , her appetite suddenly gone and the nausea returning . there was a beat of silence before she spoke up again . ❛ have you been okay , alex ? ❜

[irenejessiren]