#I think they matched each other’s freak in that way

[keferon]

So the Mech AU is something and it's captured me too.

Set sometime after Prowl discovers Jazz is a pilot but before they go to Earth

———————————————————————

"Do they all look the same?"

Sat in a makeshift chair made from a tarp thrown over a spare tire, Jazz was in the middle of refueling from a small plastic baggie when Prowl broadly gestured to the inanimate body of his mech.

"The mechs? Naw, at least not the ones that last. I've had mine long enough that it's gotten all sorts of unique design changes and upgrades. There's no other mech that looks or moves just like mine."

The reassurance that Jazz's mech form was an individual creation was pleasing for some reason. Perhaps Prowl didn't like the idea of a dozen identical blank visors, the body of his friend replicated and filled with someone else.

"There's like. three or four classes of mech I think?" Jazz continued unaware of Prowl's secret anxiety.

"There's Rescue Class, those are the smallest, and they actually aren't built for fighting but for digging through rubble and cleaning up chunks of alien. Plus, sometimes those tentacle freaks have parasites that drop off when they die so the R-class kill 'em before they can become an invasive species."

"I thought you said they weren't designed for combat?"

Jazz finishes their fuel and shrugs.

"Its a war. Nobody gets out of fighting completely. Before I left I heard they were sticking a medic into- into fuckin' Vortex."

There were, many questions Prowl had concerning that last sentence. How desperate were the humans to be making their caregivers into soldiers? Why was this Vortex so infamous?

Why did Jazz sound angry at first, but by the time he got to saying "Vortex" the name came out as a rush of breath rather than a proper word?

What stopped him from pressing further on the topic was how Jazz seemed to shrink. And sink.

And stare at nothing at all.

It was so nauseatingly not Jazz that Prowl nudged the tire a bit and guided the conversation back to familiar territory.

"So what class are you?" Prowl said, while crossing his arms on the table and resting his chin on them. It was, very off model posture for the Praxian, but without the ability to pick up EM fields, exaggerated body language seemed to be the best way to get through to his human.

On a hunch, Prowl lightly waved his door-wings as well. Jazz smiled at them, and at him and Prowl preened with a modest smile back.

"I happen, to-just-so-be-the-Top-of-my-class-a-thank-you-veeery-much!" Jazz said popping each syllable like a song, resting his chin on his knuckles to match Prowls gaze.

"In terms of mech?" He nodded in its direction.

"I'm Striker Class baby, we're the fastest, the most agile and in my personal opinion the the most effective fighters in the whole program."

"And you do not personally feel as though you are an outlier bringing up the average?"

Mouth agape in mock shock, Jazz placed a hand over his spark- Flesh? Flesh-spark? Prowl deleted the line of thought and focused on the performance.

“I assure you Prowler, there are plenty of other Striker class pilots out there that do good for our name. I mean, there’s Blur for one thing. The guys basically the poster child of the whole program. Ridiculously fast mech. There’s also Hot Rod. His mech had the funny little quirk of CONSTANTLY CATCHING ON FIRE, buuut he turned it from a bug into a feature and now that’s just his thing.”

“Just his thing?!”

“Yup.”

“Being on fire?”

Jazz sat up straighter and pointed a finger at Prowl, “Look. I don’t know the full story and I shouldn’t be the one to tell it either, but trust me when I tell you this guy earned it.”

Leaning back, Prowl processed the new layers of insanity humans would apparently subject themselves to before filing it under “Bizarre conversations with Jazz” in his processor and carrying on.

“So what’s your special quality?”

“Me? I’m freakishly good at syncing up with my mech. Like, Blur is faster, but I’m smoother. Like, like that really is me. It just, I dunno, feels right. Fits me.”

Jazz looked over to his mech for a long time. Frowning at the fuel packet in his hands and solemnly crushing it into a ball.

“In terms of mech?” Jazz looked looked over to Prowl, smile returning with ease.

“I think I might be the only one that’s built for the stars.”

Their conversation continued into the evening like a leisurely dance. Discussing Pool Time, the war, cultural differences , the quintessons, their homes, what remained of them, and all the people they know and once knew.

Prowl never brought up Vortex again, though perhaps he should have.

__________________________________________

"What," Prowl choked out, his voice more static than sound. "Is that?"

The sky was green. The quintessions were in chunks. A mech, matte black with a blank visor, caaaarved into the body of the last living invader. A blade that massive was too big to keep a clean cutting edge, so the mech made up for the lack of delicacy with brute force.

It. It wasn't killing the damn thing. It was vivisecting the aliens spinal column from its body, each rib snapping off with a supersonic POP that shook Ratchets hangar and barely carried over the fucking awful sound of the thing screaming in terror.

Prowl would have never thought a Quintession could be a Victim before that moment.

Spine and brain case finally extracted, the mech lifted its prize to its opening vi- mouth.

That is its mouth. It's head was the size of his entire chassis. Inside, a stranger. Over bright eyes, straining and shaking against restraints within to get a better look at what was being held up to him. The mech moved without any input, tilting its helm back and cracking the skull to fill its open maw with cerebral fluid.

A funnel cloud touched down in the distance.

"That.? Jazz said, leaning against Prowls good side. “Is Vortex.”

TH A T. IS VORTEX

Man……I think Cybertronians would consider themselves big and scary compared to primitive earth life. And then meet Vortex. And then see Vortex in their nightmares for the next five million business years

[starryal1na]

—❀ ‧₊˚. 𝑳𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒑𝒆𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒔 𝒅𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅

genre: fluff, sfw

word count: 850

characters: aventurine, boothill, sunday, dr ratio

notes: this is just soft random thoughts i have about them and needed to write down, no theme in particular, dr ratio wearing glasses does things to me (*≧ω≦*), special thank to my irl friend charlotte (<3) for proofreading this ! divider credit to @/cafekitsune ♡

─ ⊹ ⊱ Aventurine ⊰ ⊹ ─

Owning himself plenty of jewelry, such as rings or expensive watches, it makes sense that Aventurine would want to gift his lover all kind of sumptuous pieces. Over the years, he has had you displayed with pearly necklaces, the shiniest earrings and even rings with precious gemstones. Undoubtedly you loved every single one of them. Each gift Aventurine has given you were meaningful to you, as a symbol of his deep affection for you. However, you must admit you have a favorite one. A gift from one of your anniversary that you adore more than anything. It might be the most classic piece of jewelry you own in term of appearance, but it holds a special place in your heart.

The gift is a bracelet, a thin gold chain gold with a small aventurine stone at its center. Beyond the fact that it is his stone, what's making this gift even more significant is that Aventurine has one as well. While you wear yours on your left, he wears his on his right wrist below his watch. He intented for the two of you to share matching bracelets you could wear daily and that was subtle enough only the two of you could really notice it through your other extravagant jewels. Since then, one glance at the aventurine bracelet on your wrist and your heart skips a beat ♡

─ ⊹ ⊱ Boothill ⊰ ⊹ ─

Every other day, Boothill finds himself mesmerized by the way you take care of your hair. Whether you brush it, braid it, decore it with accessories, he watches from afar with the softest glare. The one reserved for you, and you only.

Today is one of those where you've decided to use the cute ribbons you have recently purchased. Sitting confortably in front of your mirror, you feel Boothill's eyes on you as you display the cute accessories on the floor. "Which color do you think I should wear today ?" "Don't know, sugar. They'd all look fudgin' nice in your pretty hair" "That's very helpful thank you, baby". Boothill snickers, his attention splits between his gun he's been checking for a few mintues, and watch you clip a white and pink ribbon to the side of your head, securing a little braid. Fork, she looks so cute like this, he thinks to himself. Oblivious to your overheating cyborg boyfriend next to you, you finish your hairstyle and spin around with a "tadaaa !" only to find him dumbfounded and an adorable flush spreading on his cheeks. "Forkin' hell ! Got myself the prettiest gurl ain't I ?" Naturally, it ended with you pampering his face with kisses and he even lets you tie ribbons in his hair as well ♡

─ ⊹ ⊱ Sunday ⊰ ⊹ ─

Dearest Sunday was always a bit of a control freak, until he met you. Well he still is one but ever since you've become a couple, his controlling demeanour has somewhat softened. Your presence clearly helped him feel loved and needed, satisfying the yearn to be someone's special one. In the intimacy of your relationship, he has grown more laid-back, to the point of allowing you to touch his precious wings.

This has become one of your favorite ways to demonstrate your love, carefully and tenderly caressing his feathers. They're so delicate you often worry you'll hurt him, but it actually helps Sunday relax. "Do not worry, my angel. Think of it as a hug. It is warm and very comforting for me" he once reassured you. Afterwards, it became a routine for the two of you. Sunday coming home from an exhausting day, you helping him rest by gently stroking his pretty wings. You even make sure to rub the base, where the tiniest feathers are, and the contented sighs he releases reassure you that you’re doing a really good job ♡

─ ⊹ ⊱ Dr Ratio ⊰ ⊹ ─

Usually, when you look at Veritas, the words circulating in your mind are often along the lines of handsome, gorgeous, sexy, serious..... angry. However in the evening, it's different. Sitting in his favorite comfy chair, he pulls you onto his his lap and puts on his glasses to read. You're aware you should focus on your own book but those glasses perched on top of his nose are seriously distracting you. This time, your mind fills with nothing but cute cute cute cute cuuuute. Obviously, he feels your stare on him –of course he does– it's not like you're being subtle anyway. Still, he pretends to act oblivious until you're the one bringing it up.

As he turns a page of his book, you shift on his lap. "Come on. Say it." His tone is serious, yet playful. "You... Cute." You blurt out, immediatly covering your face to cover the prominent blush on your face. "Darling, have you lost your ability to form full sentences ?" His cocky smirk making your blush worsen, nuzzling your head on his neck to hide it. Smiling down at your pouting and flushed face, he returns his attention back to his book. Although you go back to reading as well, he knows you’re sneaking glances at him every so often ♡

/!\ don't steal, translate or repost this and claim it as you own /!\

[enemiestolovershoe]

Silent Tension

Matt Sturniolo x enemie!reader

Summary: Matt and Y/N were best friends until one argument turned them into enemies. Will they ever find a way back to each other?

Warnings: arguments, fighting, making out, lmk if you find anything else.

Words: 5.2k

The kindergarten days felt like a lifetime ago now. Back then, the four of you were inseparable. Matt, Nick, Chris, and you were a perfectly chaotic little crew, spending recess planning adventures and sticking together against anyone who dared mess with one of you. Matt had been your closest match back then—quick-witted, stubborn, and full of ideas. You thought that bond would never break.

But high school changed everything.

It started small, with arguments over who got shotgun during group rides. Then came the endless bickering about group projects and plans. By sophomore year, the fights had escalated into something sharper, something mean.

“You can’t just do everything yourself,” Matt said one night, frustration thick in his voice.

“It’s not my fault you can’t handle it!” you snapped back, shoving a notebook into your bag after another group study session gone wrong.

Nick, sprawled on the couch with a soda in hand, raised an eyebrow. “Uh-oh. Here we go again.”

“You’re such a control freak,” Matt muttered, crossing his arms.

“And you’re lazy,” you shot back without missing a beat.

Chris, ever the calm one, stepped in. “Alright, that’s enough. Can we focus? This isn’t helping anyone.”

But Matt wasn’t done. “You think you’re better than everyone else because you plan everything to death. Newsflash: it’s annoying.”

“At least I don’t sit around waiting for other people to pick up the slack!”

“Guys, please!” Chris sighed, rubbing his temples. “You’re giving me a headache.”

Nick grinned, throwing a pillow at Matt. “Yeah, cool it, bro. You’re scaring Chris.”

By junior year, the tension had spread beyond school. Group hangouts became a minefield.

One night at the mall, Matt and you ended up in yet another screaming match over something stupid.

“All I’m saying is, we didn’t need to spend an hour waiting for you to pick out a stupid hoodie,” Matt said, throwing up his hands as the group headed back to Nick’s car.

“It wasn’t just about the hoodie, Matt,” you snapped, glaring at him. “Maybe if you weren’t so impatient, we’d actually enjoy going out as a group.”

“Impatient? You’re the one who wasted everyone’s time.”

Nick piped up from the backseat, turning to grin at Chris. “Think we should start selling tickets? This is better than reality TV.”

Chris shot Nick a look. “Not helping.”

“Whatever,” Matt muttered. “Next time, just leave me out of it.”

“Gladly,” you said, slamming the car door behind you.

The ride home was silent, the air thick with unresolved anger.

Then there was the infamous beach trip during senior year. What should’ve been a relaxing day turned into yet another battlefield.

“Can you at least try to help with the setup?” you asked, struggling to hammer an umbrella into the sand while Matt sat under the shade of a nearby tree, scrolling on his phone.

“I’m supervising,” he said with a smirk, not even glancing up.

“You’re useless,” you muttered under your breath, loud enough for him to hear.

“Excuse me?” Matt stood up, his tone sharp.

“You heard me.”

Nick and Chris exchanged a look, already bracing for the explosion.

“Maybe if you weren’t so bossy, people would actually want to help you,” Matt shot back.

“Maybe if you weren’t so lazy, people wouldn’t have to pick up your slack,” you retorted, standing toe-to-toe with him now.

Nick broke the tension with an exaggerated sigh. “Okay, Mom and Dad, can we chill? Some of us are here to, like, enjoy the beach.”

Chris stepped between you two, his voice calm but firm. “Seriously, stop. This is getting old.”

You stormed off, muttering under your breath about how impossible Matt was. He didn’t try to follow.

By the time you were 21, things were worse than ever. Group events had become rare, mostly because no one wanted to deal with the inevitable clash between you and Matt.

At one game night, the tension boiled over again.

“Can you not cheat for once in your life?” Matt snapped as you reached for a card in a particularly heated game of Uno.

“I’m not cheating, you idiot. Maybe if you paid attention, you’d actually win for once.”

Chris sighed from his spot beside you, his patience clearly wearing thin. “It’s a card game. Can we not turn this into World War 3?”

Matt ignored him, leaning forward with a scowl. “You always do this. You can’t handle losing, so you find some way to bend the rules.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Mr. Perfect. I forgot you’re the expert on everything.”

Nick laughed, shaking his head. “Man, y’all really need couples therapy.”

“Nick, shut up,” you and Matt said in unison, which only made him laugh harder.

Chris stood up, clearly done. “Okay, game night’s over. You two can keep fighting, but I’m not babysitting anymore.”

As Chris walked out of the room, Nick looked between you and Matt with a smirk. “So, who’s gonna admit they’re in love first?”

You threw a pillow at him. “Nick, I swear—”

Matt scoffed, crossing his arms. “As if.”

“Exactly,” you snapped, glaring at him. “You’d be the last person I’d ever—”

“Good! Glad we’re on the same page,” Matt interrupted, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Nick laughed again. “Man, you two are exhausting. But, like, in a fun way.”

Chris peeked back in from the hallway, his calm voice cutting through the chaos. “You’re not fun. You’re a headache. Both of you.”

As the tension settled for the night, you couldn’t help but wonder how it had come to this. Somewhere along the way, the friendship you once had with Matt had turned into a battlefield, and neither of you seemed willing to wave the white flag.

It was a sweltering summer afternoon, the kind that made everyone irritable. You’d come over to hang out with Chris and Nick, hoping to escape the heat and distract yourself from a long week. Matt, as usual, was there too.

From the moment you walked in, you could feel the tension. It was always there with Matt—humming under the surface, waiting for one of you to ignite it.

“Alright, who’s down for a Mario Kart tournament? Loser buys slushies,” Nick said, grabbing controllers from the cabinet.

Chris nodded. “I’m in. But Nick, you’re buying either way.

Nick grinned. “Bold of you to assume.”

You grabbed a controller, feeling a flicker of competitiveness. “Hope you’re ready to lose, Nick.”

Matt, leaning against the counter, crossed his arms. “You should worry about yourself. You’ve never beaten me.”

You rolled your eyes. “There’s a first time for everything.”

The game started off fine—until you accidentally bumped Matt’s character off the track.

“Oh, come on!” Matt exclaimed, leaning forward. “You did that on purpose.”

“It’s called strategy,” you shot back, grinning.

Matt’s scowl deepened as the race continued. When the final lap ended, your character crossed the finish line ahead of his. You threw your hands up triumphantly. “Yes! Finally!”

Matt tossed his controller onto the couch, glaring at you. “You only won because you cheated.”

You blinked, the excitement draining from your face. “How did I cheat?”

“You bumped me off the track,” Matt said, his tone accusatory.

“That’s part of the game, Matt,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

“No, it’s not,” he snapped. “You’re always like this—always cutting corners to get ahead.”

“Cutting corners?” you repeated, standing up. “It’s a stupid game. Maybe if you weren’t such a sore loser, you’d actuallyhave fun.”

“Oh, I’m the sore loser?” Matt said, getting to his feet as well.

Nick, sensing the brewing storm, raised his hands. “Alright, time out. It’s just Mario Kart, guys.”

Chris sighed, already rubbing his temples. “Can we not?”

But the two of you were locked in now.

“You always do this,” Matt said, his voice rising. “You act like you’re better than everyone else, but you’re just as petty as the rest of us.”

Your jaw dropped. “Are you kidding me? You’re the one making a big deal out of this!”

“Oh, because you’re so perfect, right?” Matt shot back, sarcasm dripping from his voice. “You can’t handle being called out, so you turn it around on me.”

“Maybe I wouldn’t have to if you weren’t so impossible to deal with!”

Chris stood up, his calm demeanor cracking slightly. “Seriously, enough. This isn’t worth fighting over.”

“Stay out of it, Chris,” Matt said, not taking his eyes off you.

Chris frowned but didn’t argue.

“You know what your problem is?” Matt continued, stepping closer. “You’re so controlling. Everything has to be your way, and if it’s not, you freak out.”

“I’m not controlling,” you snapped. “I’m just tired of cleaning up after you all the time!”

Matt scoffed. “Cleaning up after me? You don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

Nick tried to step in again, his voice light but firm. “Guys, seriously, take a breath. Go outside or something.”

But it was too late. The fight was spiraling.

“Don’t I?” you said, crossing your arms. “You’re lazy, Matt. You never help with anything unless someone forces you to, and then you complain the whole time.”

“Oh, I’m lazy?” Matt shot back, his voice sharp. “At least I don’t bulldoze over everyone like you do. You think you’re so much better because you plan everything to death, but really, you’re just scared of messing up.”

Your chest tightened, his words cutting deeper than you expected. “Wow. Thanks for the insight, Dr. Matt. Maybe if you spent less time tearing me down, you’d actually accomplish something for once.”

Matt’s face darkened. “Tearing you down? You’re the one who’s always on my case. Every little thing I do, you have something to say about it.”

“Because you make it so easy!”

“You know what? I’m done,” Matt said, throwing his hands up. “You’re exhausting. No wonder people can’t stand being around you.”

“Excuse me?” you said, your voice trembling with anger. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Matt didn’t back down. “It means maybe your ex had a point.”

The room went silent.

Chris and Nick both froze, their eyes snapping to Matt in disbelief.

“What did you just say?” you asked, your voice low and unsteady.

Chris stepped forward, his voice firm. “Matt, don’t.”

But Matt ignored him. “Maybe your ex wouldn’t have cheated on you if you weren’t so suffocating.”

Your stomach dropped. Tears pricked your eyes as his words sunk in. “You’re unbelievable.”

Chris immediately stepped in, standing between you and Matt. “That’s enough. You’ve crossed the line.”

Nick’s voice was louder now. “Matt, what the hell is wrong with you?”

But Matt wasn’t done. “I’m just saying what everyone else is too scared to say.”

Your hands shook as you struggled to hold back tears. “You’re such a coward,” you said, your voice breaking. “You can’t handle your own issues, so you take them out on me. Well, congrats, Matt. You finally broke me. Are you happy now?”

Tears streamed down your face as you turned away, unable to look at him anymore.

Chris stepped forward, his calm voice laced with anger. “Go to your room. Now.”

Matt hesitated, glaring at you one last time before storming off, slamming his door behind him.

As soon as he was gone, Chris turned to you, his expression softening. “Hey, come here.”

You let out a shaky breath as he pulled you into a hug.

“Why does he hate me so much?” you whispered, your voice cracking. “What did I do to make him like this?”

“He doesn’t hate you,” Chris said softly, rubbing your back. “He’s just… an idiot.”

Nick grabbed a glass of water and handed it to you. “Yeah, a massive idiot. Like, the biggest idiot I’ve ever met.”

You tried to laugh, but it came out as a sob. “I can’t keep doing this, Chris. Every time I come here, it’s like he’s waiting to tear me apart.”

Chris pulled back, cupping your face gently so you’d meet his eyes. “Listen to me. You didn’t do anything wrong. He’s just angry—at himself, at whatever—but it’s not about you.”

“Then why does it feel like it is?” you whispered, tears still streaming down your face.

Chris sighed, pulling you back into a hug. “I don’t know. But I’m going to fix it, okay? I promise.”

Nick sat beside you, patting your shoulder. “Yeah, and if he doesn’t apologize, I’ll pants him in public.”

You let out a weak laugh, wiping your eyes. “Thanks, Nick. That’s… oddly comforting.”

Chris stayed by your side, his calm presence steadying you as you tried to piece yourself back together. But no matter how much he reassured you, Matt’s words lingered, cutting deeper than you wanted to admit.

About an hour had passed since the fight, and the tension in the house still hung heavy in the air. You were curled up on the couch with Chris, his arm draped protectively over your shoulder. Nick sat on the floor in front of you, scrolling through his phone and cracking occasional jokes to try and lighten the mood.

You’d stopped crying, but your chest still felt tight, your breathing shallow. Every time you thought about what Matt had said, it was like the wound reopened.

Chris’s hand absentmindedly rubbed your arm. “You good?” he asked quietly.

You nodded, though you didn’t feel entirely okay. “Better. Thanks for… you know, being here.”

“Always,” he said softly.

Nick glanced over his shoulder with a faint grin. “If you need me to distract you, I can pull up Matt’s senior photo. That thing’s a crime against humanity.”

You let out a weak laugh. “Thanks, Nick. I think I’ll pass.”

Just then, footsteps sounded from the stairs. Matt was coming down, his movements hesitant but deliberate.

Your stomach immediately twisted into knots, and you stiffened against Chris.

He noticed immediately. “Relax,” Chris whispered. “You’re safe.”

Nick, sensing the shift, turned to Matt with a warning look. “If you’re coming down to start something again, you can turn right back around and go upstairs.”

Matt shook his head, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I’m not here to fight.”

You looked at him warily, unsure of what to expect.

“Actually,” Matt continued, his voice quieter than usual, “I wanted to talk to Y/N. Alone.”

You stiffened even more, your breath catching in your throat. “What for? So you can tear me apart again? Bring up my past and rub salt in the wound?” Your voice cracked, still raw from earlier.

Matt winced, his jaw tightening. “No. I’m not here to do that. I… I want to apologize. But I’d rather do it one-on-one.”

Chris’s grip on your shoulder tightened protectively. “I don’t think that’s a good idea right now,” he said, his calm tone carrying a slight edge.

“Yeah,” Nick chimed in, crossing his arms. “She’s been through enough today. Whatever you need to say, you can say it in front of us.”

Matt shook his head. “Look, I get it. I’ve been a total dick, okay? But I need to fix this, and I can’t do that with you two hovering.” He turned to you, his gaze earnest. “Please, Y/N. Just give me five minutes. I promise, no fighting. No bringing up the past.”

You stared at him, your heart pounding. You didn’t trust him—not after everything—but there was something different in his tone. He didn’t sound like the sharp, defensive Matt you’d been clashing with for years. He sounded… vulnerable.

Chris’s voice broke through your thoughts. “You don’t have to do this if you’re not ready.”

Nick nodded. “Seriously. You’ve got nothing to prove to him.”

You hesitated, your gaze flicking between Matt and his brothers. Part of you wanted to shut him down, to tell him to leave you alone. But another part—the part that was tired of the constant fighting—wanted to hear him out.

You let out a shaky breath. “What do you want to talk about?”

Matt glanced at the door, then back at you. “We still need to grab those slushies. We can talk on the way there. Neutral ground.”

Chris frowned. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“I’m not going to do anything,” Matt said, his voice firm but not aggressive. “I just… need to talk. Please.”

You looked at Chris and Nick, then back at Matt. Against your better judgment, you slowly nodded. “Fine. But if you say anything—anything—like what you said earlier, I’m leaving. Got it?”

Matt nodded immediately. “Got it. No low blows. I swear.”

Chris sighed, his hand lingering on your shoulder as you stood up. “You sure about this?”

“No,” you admitted, your voice still shaky. “But I’ll be fine.”

Nick raised an eyebrow. “Text me if you need a rescue mission.”

You gave him a faint smile. “I will.”

Matt grabbed his keys and held the door open for you, waiting as you slipped on your shoes. Your anxiety bubbled in your chest as you stepped outside, the warm summer air doing little to ease the tension in your body.

You glanced back at Chris and Nick, who were watching you like hawks from the couch. Chris gave you a small nod, his silent way of telling you that he had your back no matter what.

“Let’s go,” Matt said quietly, leading the way to his car.

As you got in, you couldn’t help but wonder what he was going to say—and if you’d regret giving him the chance.

You slid into the passenger seat, the car’s interior thick with unspoken tension. Matt climbed into the driver’s seat, closing the door with a quiet click. He rested his hands on the steering wheel but didn’t start the engine. Instead, he leaned back, staring straight ahead, his jaw tightening and loosening as if trying to find the right words.

Finally, he broke the silence.

“I am so fucking sorry, Y/N,” Matt said, his voice low but steady. “I don’t even know where to start. I—I don’t know what got into me earlier, but I regret it. Deeply. More than I can even put into words.”

You turned to look at him, studying his face. There was no trace of his usual anger or smugness. He looked… tired. Defeated.

He let out a long breath, running a hand through his hair. “I was out of line. Way out of line. What I said about your past, about your ex—it was cruel, and it wasn’t fair. You didn’t deserve that. Not then, not ever.”

You stayed quiet, unsure of what to say, but he continued.

“The truth is… I’ve been carrying around all this anger for so long. At first, I thought it was because you were always pushing my buttons or calling me out. But the more I think about it, the more I realize that it’s not about you at all. It’s about me. I’ve been projecting my own shit onto you, and that’s not okay.”

His hands tightened on the wheel as he glanced at you briefly, guilt etched into every line of his face. “You’ve been nothing but honest with me, and I’ve thrown that back in your face every chance I got. I don’t even know why. Maybe because it was easier to lash out at you than to deal with my own crap. But that’s not an excuse. I’ve hurt you, over and over again, and I hate myself for it.”

Your chest tightened at his words, the sincerity in his voice catching you off guard.

“I guess… I’ve been jealous of you,” Matt admitted, his voice quieter now. “You’ve always had this way of handling things—like, you’re so driven, so put-together. Even when things fall apart, you don’t let it stop you. And I hated that because it made me feel like a mess in comparison. Like I couldn’t measure up.”

“Matt…” you started, but he held up a hand.

“Please, let me finish,” he said, his voice almost pleading. “I know that doesn’t justify anything. I’ve been a shitty friend. Hell, I haven’t even treated you like a friend. I’ve treated you like someone I could take my frustrations out on, and I’m so, so sorry for that. I’m sorry for all the fights, all the insults, all the times I made you feel like you weren’t enough. Because you are enough, Y/N. More than enough.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, but you blinked them away, unsure if you were ready to forgive him yet.

Matt turned to face you fully now, his eyes earnest and a little glassy. “I don’t want to fight anymore. I’m tired of it. I don’t want you to feel like you can’t be around me, like you have to walk on eggshells every time we’re in the same room. You’ve always been there for my brothers, for all of us, and I’ve done nothing but push you away. I don’t want to do that anymore.”

He hesitated, swallowing hard before continuing. “I know I’ve got a long way to go to make things right. And I don’t expect you to forgive me right away. But I’m asking for a chance—a chance to show you that I can be better, that I want to be better. Not just for you, but for myself too.”

You felt your lip tremble as you tried to process everything he’d just said. The rawness of his apology, the vulnerability in his voice—it was so unlike the Matt you’d been clashing with for years.

Matt reached over hesitantly, his hand hovering near yours on the center console. “I mean it, Y/N. Every word. I’m sorry. And if there’s anything I can do to prove it to you, just tell me. I’ll do it.”

For a moment, you sat there in silence, his words hanging heavy in the air. Then, finally, you spoke, your voice soft but steady. “Why didn’t you just tell me all of this before? Instead of… everything else?”

He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Because I’m an idiot. And because it was easier to pretend it was your fault than to admit I was the one with the problem.”

You looked down at his hand, still hovering near yours, and after a moment of hesitation, you placed yours over it. His fingers curled around yours gently, as if he were afraid to scare you off.

“Matt…” you began, your voice trembling slightly. “I’m not saying everything’s magically okay now. But… I appreciate you saying all of this. I really do.”

A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “That’s all I can ask for.”

You looked down, your thumb brushing over the back of his hand. There was something vulnerable in the air between you two, a tension that was unfamiliar and heavy but not unwelcome. For once, Matt didn’t feel like your enemy. He felt like someone who was finally trying to understand you.

“Can I…” Matt hesitated, his voice unusually soft. “Can I hug you?”

You blinked at him, taken aback by the sudden question. But the sincerity in his eyes made you nod without thinking.

“Yeah,” you murmured.

He exhaled in relief and leaned over, wrapping his arms around you carefully, almost as if he were afraid you might pull away. His embrace was warm, solid, and it took you a moment to relax into it. But when you did, you felt a strange sense of comfort, the kind you hadn’t felt around him in years.

You rested your head against his chest, and his hand came up to gently cradle the back of your head. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered again, his voice muffled but still so close to your ear.

“I know,” you replied softly.

You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that, wrapped in the quiet, tentative warmth of his arms. It felt like the weight of all those years of tension was melting away, even if only for a moment.

Eventually, you shifted slightly to look up at him, and Matt looked down at you. His expression was open, more vulnerable than you’d ever seen him before. For a brief second, neither of you moved, and the world outside the car seemed to fade away.

You hadn’t realized how close you were until your eyes dropped to his lips. They parted slightly, and his breath hitched. His gaze flicked to your mouth, and suddenly, it felt like the air in the car had grown impossibly heavy.

“Y/N…” he whispered, his voice low and unsure, as if testing the waters.

You didn’t respond—not with words, at least. Your breath caught in your throat, your heart hammering as you both leaned in, hesitantly at first. There was a moment’s pause, so brief it was almost imperceptible, and then your lips met.

The kiss was soft, tender, and filled with a quiet kind of desperation. It wasn’t rushed or messy; it was careful, like neither of you wanted to break whatever fragile thing had just been built between you.

Matt’s hand slipped from your back to your waist, pulling you just a little closer as his lips moved against yours. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver down your spine, and you found yourself responding instinctively, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.

The kiss deepened slightly, and Matt tilted his head to the side, his nose brushing against yours. It was intimate in a way that left your heart pounding, your mind spinning.

Without breaking the kiss, Matt reached down and adjusted the seat lever, pulling it back to give you more room. His hands settled on your waist, gently guiding you over the center console and into his lap.

You let out a soft gasp against his lips as you straddled him, your knees pressing into the seat on either side of him. His hands stayed firm on your hips, grounding you as his lips continued to move against yours, slow but deliberate.

It was new, unfamiliar, and completely overwhelming—but it didn’t feel wrong. For once, it felt like the two of you weren’t at war. You weren’t fighting or tearing each other down. You were just… there, together, in a moment that felt like it belonged to no one else but you.

You weren’t sure how long you’d been kissing Matt, but it felt like time had stopped. The warmth of his hands on your waist anchored you, and the way his lips moved against yours felt so natural, so unlike anything you’d ever expected from him.

Between kisses, Matt pulled back just slightly, his forehead resting against yours. “Y/N…” he murmured, his voice a little breathless. “I don’t think I’ve ever…” He trailed off, a rare flush creeping up his neck.

You blinked at him, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. “You’ve never what?”

He let out a quiet laugh, his hand brushing a strand of hair from your face. “I’ve never thought this would happen. Us. Like this. And… I kind of hate myself for waiting so long.”

His honesty left you momentarily stunned. This was Matt—your rival, the person who could always get under your skin. And yet, sitting here, holding you like you were the most fragile thing in the world, he wasn’t that Matt at all.

“Well, it’s happening now,” you said softly, a small smile playing on your lips. “And I don’t know if I’m ready to forgive you completely, but… this feels different. You feel different.”

“I am,” he promised, his thumb grazing your cheek. “I swear, I am.”

You leaned back into the kiss, this time with less hesitation and more certainty. His hands tightened on your hips, pulling you closer as the tension melted into something softer, more electric.

“Y/N,” he whispered against your lips between kisses. “I don’t want this to stop. But… if you want me to slow down, justsay the word.”

You shook your head slightly, brushing your nose against his. “I don’t want you to stop.”

His lips curved into a faint smile before they captured yours again. It wasn’t rushed or chaotic; it was patient, deliberate like he wanted to savor every second.

But just as you started to lose yourself in the moment, there was a sharp knock on the passenger-side window.

You froze, your eyes widening in panic as you turned to see Nick and Chris standing outside the car, smirking like they’d just won the lottery.

Matt groaned, letting his head fall back against the headrest. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered, his hands reluctantly dropping from your waist.

“Guess we’re busted,” you whispered, unable to stop the embarrassed smile that tugged at your lips.

Sliding off Matt’s lap, you scrambled back into the passenger seat, smoothing out your shirt and running a hand through your hair. Matt rubbed the back of his neck, looking equally flustered but unable to hide the amused smirk tugging at his lips.

Rolling down the window, you were met with Nick and Chris’s grinning faces.

“We just wanted to make sure you didn’t kill each other,” Chris said, barely holding back laughter. “We didn’t see the car drive away, so, you know, better safe than sorry.”

Nick leaned down, his grin absolutely wicked. “But clearly, you two found a different way to sort things out.”

“Real mature, Nick,” you shot back, though your cheeks were burning.

Matt leaned over the console, his arm casually draped across the back of your seat as he looked at his brothers. “Do you guys not have better things to do than stalk me?”

“Stalk you?” Nick gasped in mock offense. “We were concerned. Imagine our relief when we came out here and saw you weren’t choking each other—though, to be fair, this is definitely the opposite of what we expected.”

Chris snickered. “Honestly, I’m just shocked Y/N didn’t punch you in the face. Progress, I guess.”

You glanced at Matt, and to your surprise, he was smiling—not the smug, teasing smile you were used to, but a genuine one that softened his whole face.

“You know,” Matt said, his voice calm, “for once, I’m kind of glad you two interrupted. Otherwise, we might’ve stayed in here all night.”

Your jaw dropped slightly, and you smacked his arm playfully. “Matt!”

“What?” he said, feigning innocence as he held up his hands. “Just being honest.”

Chris raised an eyebrow. “Well, as much as I hate to break up this little love fest, are you guys still getting the slushies? Or were you planning to sit here making out until the sun comes up?”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “I can’t deal with you two.”

“Hey, you chose this life,” Nick quipped, winking.

Matt laughed, and to your surprise, the sound was lighthearted, even happy. He reached for the keys and started the car, shooting a glance at his brothers. “Don’t wait up.”

“Oh, we’re definitely waiting up,” Chris said with a grin. “This is going straight into the group chat.”

“Nick,” you groaned, giving him a pointed look, “if you just type one word—”

“I make no promises,” Nick interrupted, stepping back from the car as Matt began reversing out of the garage.

As you drove away, you couldn’t help but glance at Matt, your chest still fluttering from everything that had just happened. He caught your gaze and smiled, his hand resting on the console between you.

“Still okay?” he asked softly, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah. I’m okay.”

And for the first time in years, you actually meant it.

[theogbadbitch]

Ugh I love these lovesick idiots so much

“She was pissed at herself for being so lovesick that her stomach churned. Sickening. This type of yearning was sickening.” Patrice JUST like me????

“We’re fine. James is not feeling very affectionate this morning for reasons unknown, but we’re fine outside of that.” The use of his middle name😭 oh she’s MAD

Then Terry matching her energy and using hers as well, they are so childish please 😭

“They watched each other step out of their shirts, socks, and pants, still pretending that some relationship chat was on the other side of their time together. “ They are both deeply unserious and SO freaked out😭

“Don’t hold back, Terrence. I’m all yours.” SO down bad for each other I love them

“A whimper escaped past his lips before a simple concession speech. “Oh…fuck.”

“Because I like you like that. You think I do all this for you to be normal?” A REAL man btw🙂‍↕️ #needthat

“Sorry for being a bitch. I’m working on it.” More and more I’m starting to think you were in my bedroom walls when you made Patrice cuz why she just like me????

“Ask for what you want next time. It’s yours. I’m yours,” Lord I have seen what you’ve done for others….

“Patrice pulled a way first to nuzzle her nose against Terry’s. “D’you wanna shower with me? It’s okay if you don’t. I just…need to spend a little more time together.” Look at lil miss “need my own space”

May I be added to the tag list? I need these two injected directly in my veins like cocaine fr

Spoiled

Summary: Tensions boil over on the Thanksgiving trip to New Orleans.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 3,060

Warnings: Smut (18+ content)

Previous: Sorry 2024

“Where’s Treece?” 

Terry couldn’t care less but entertained the question for his mother’s sake as he took the seat closest to the window at their reserved table for a late breakfast. 

“In the room pouting,” He grumbled with his annoyed glare focused solely on the breakfast menu. “She’ll be down eventually. Or not. I don’t know or care.”

Marvin chuckled over his mug of coffee. “I’m not all that convinced, son, but I’ll let you have it.” 

As much as they were lovers, Terry and Patrice were friends who bickered like siblings. Petty back and forths reared their ugly heads at inopportune moments, leading to heated, silent arguments. A refusal to raise their voices at each other out of respect resulted in hushed whispers and sarcastic jabs that were so ridiculous to those not involved that Terry’s parents often referred to them as live telenovelas. 

Their latest episode was the most trivial to date. 

Separate families stationed in conflicting parts of the country forced the newest Richmond couple to compromise on how they split their holiday schedule. With a family known for their culinary pursuits, Terry naturally claimed Thanksgiving for his side. Although she couldn’t bear the thought of missing her Nana’s fresh apple pie, Patrice compromised with the caveat that their New Year’s plans were neutral ground for them and them alone. Handshake and lip lock agreements set them on a path to plan for the final six weeks of the year. 

For all of his careful planning, Terry didn’t anticipate how his wife’s commitment to the pupils under her care would collide with his plans to spend extended time in New Orleans. 

“Baby, it’s just two days.” He explained to Patrice while he helped clear the table after dinner one evening. “I’ll get you on the first flight out Wednesday morning. Promise.” 

“I know, but still. I’m gonna miss you. We’re not apart that often.” 

“We’ll make it worth the wait once you get there.” 

Repeated promises to steal some alone time once reunited preceded quick kisses as Terry prepared to join his parents and siblings on a flight early Monday morning. But, once the sun set on their first day apart in months, loneliness and frustration set in for Patrice. Text messages slowed to a creep. Sparse voice notes attempted to fill the void left in their near-silent home. She wasn’t mad at Terry for enjoying time with his loved ones. She was pissed at herself for being so lovesick that her stomach churned. Sickening. This type of yearning was sickening.

Excitement took a backseat to unshakeable irritability on her solo flight to the Big Easy on Wednesday morning. No hugs, kisses, or meaningful conversation for 48 hours could send even the most solitary person over the edge. Terry sent messages in droves to share his excitement for her arrival and she fought the urge to snap back at him. His smiling face greeting her at the hotel’s front entrance briefly soothed her ire until the reality that they couldn’t shake his family’s company set in. 

Every private conversion came with an intrusion. Kisses meant to go further than a quick peck were interrupted before they could start. Attempts at sneaking away never came to fruition. Soon, Patrice’s sour attitude became Terry’s disposition. He knew his anger was misdirected, but couldn’t find the words to explain his annoyance. 

They didn’t speak before bed Wednesday night and barely looked at each other Thursday morning. One angry Richmond was enough. Two made everyone uncomfortable. 

“It’s time for breakfast, Treece.” What Terry intended as an innocent reminder came out as a gruff bark that he couldn’t take back before Patrice opened her mouth to respond. 

“I know! I can see the time!” 

“Then hurry up!” 

“Fuck it! I’ll eat by myself!” 

“Fine!”

“Fine!”

Their silly exchange ended with Terry tossing the second hotel key on the bed before he stomped out of the room, allowing the door to slam behind him. 

The moment replayed in his head as he scanned the menu for something they could share in case she made her way out of self-imposed solitary confinement. 

“Well, I hope she makes it down. I wanted her to try a few things,” DeeDee added, unaware that the entire conversation was pushing her son to his limits. “The French toast is something.” 

Terry rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well, if you can get her off the third floor, do whatever you please.”

“She’s probably happy to have you out of her back pocket. My girl can’t catch a break,” Zorah teased. 

Zanah laughed and shook her head. “You haven’t seen Patrice. I swear she was trying to climb into his skin when the elevator doors opened last night. They’re equally insane.” 

“See what happens when you end up in grown folks’ business?” 

“Oh, please.” 

Zanah childishly stuck out her tongue and received a middle finger pulled out of his hoodie’s front pocket as a prize for her antics. 

“Stop it, you two.”

“I thought when y’all became adults all this shit would slow up,” Marvin groaned, shaking his head as his two stubborn children traded schoolyard insults just short of joking about each other’s mama. Movement in his periphery offered what he hoped was a change of pace. “Oh thank God. The guest of honor is here.”

Patrice offered a weak wave and smile upon her approach, hoping they couldn’t see the remnants of a frustrated cry on her face. Terry could, though. He flashed her a concerned look and she answered with eyes that begged him not to inquire further. A round of hugs and greetings sent her to the empty seat across from her husband. 

The friction between them was palpable. They didn’t extend each other the luxury of pet names and googly-eyed grins like they normally would. Time spent canoodling was replaced by stolen glances and tight-lipped requests to pass over utensils. 

DeeDee cleared her throat for their attention. “Um, hi. Mom checking in here. Is there a problem between you two that we should be aware of?” 

“No,” Patrice answered loud enough to eclipse whatever Terry attempted to share. “We’re fine. James is not feeling very affectionate this morning for reasons unknown, but we’re fine outside of that. Right, James? Just fine, huh?”

“Peachy. Nicole is throwing a tantrum over God knows what but Nicole refuses to say more than three words to me at a time, so, while I love Nicole, I will not spend my morning chasing her around because Nicole is not a child and can use her words.”

Terry’s rant came through gritted teeth, leaving him almost out of breath as he neared the end. 

Patrice couldn’t formulate a rebuttal despite wanting to take their spat to the next level. She could only hang on to the firmness in his tone, the words sounding more like a warning than an explanation for their distance. Terry caught the flicker of something mischievous in her eyes and how she slowly crossed her legs beneath the table before grazing her foot against his clothed calf. His frown faltered for a moment. An unspoken understanding was telepathically communicated.

Four sets of eyes stared back at the standoff in utter confusion. 

Zanah took a loud sip of water to snap them out of their trance. “Oh-kay. So, I was thinking about gettin’ this crawfish omelet. Daddy, you oughta get the quesadilla so I can get a piece of that and, Zo, you get the Benny.” 

“But I don’t wanna share my food with you.” 

“Zorah! We are twins. We share!”

Chatter about seafood dressing and late-night spades tournaments planned for the rest of the day swirled around Terry and Patrice as they maintained senseless anger, too committed to the misunderstanding to relent without feeling embarrassed. 

The quiet simmer of mixed emotions followed them after tabs were paid, cocktails were consumed, and the elevator lifting them to the third floor was emptied of spectating parties. Terry pretended to type into his phone while sneaking looks at the way Patrice’s ass sat up in her leggings. 

“You wanna talk when we get in or what?” 

Patrice turned to look over her shoulder. “We can.” Her eyes caught the slow lick of his bottom lip before flickering back up to find him already watching her. “If you want.” 

“Good. I’m tired of the attitude.” 

“Great because I’m tired of yours.”

Having a civil discussion became a background thought once the soft buzz and click of their room door put them seconds away from the privacy they so desperately craved. 

Terry covertly slid the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on the outside handle before double-checking the deadbolt lock and metal latch. Patrice busied herself with the television remote, turning a rerun of CSI: Miami up to a reasonable volume. Just enough to drown out an explosive meeting of minds or bodies. 

“Ready?” Terry questioned as he pulled his hoodie up, then over his head to deposit it on the back of the nearby desk chair. “We only have an hour or so before we need to head out.” 

“I think we can settle this pretty quick. Don’t you?” 

“Depends. I got a lot to say.”

They watched each other step out of their shirts, socks, and pants, still pretending that some relationship chat was on the other side of their time together. 

Down to thin layers of underwear and insatiable desire, they met for skin-to-skin contact. Patrice set a pace that only Terry could match. Frantic hands gripped broad shoulders to hike one long leg around his waist. Heavy hands found a home beneath round ass for a full sensory experience. 

Patrice pulled away from a messy kiss for a deep enough breath to bark instructions at her phone for a 15-minute timer. The race was on. Friction would either bring a resolution or be why they found common ground. 

Words were hard to come by during a hungry heavy-petting period. Shared breaths and wandering hands communicated every need, peeling away the last barriers that kept them separated. Touch me like this. Kiss me there. I need you here. 

Soon, the itchy hotel carpet pressed into the delicate skin of Patrice’s knees while she looked up at a clenched jaw and flexed abs. She wanted to feel him grow to all of his glory inside her mouth, and he was happy to oblige her request. A fist full of knotless braids kept Terry feeling like he had control of the situation, though they both knew the truth. 

Gagging and gawking provided a filthy auditory masterpiece that he hoped to remember for as long as he lived. Curses meant as praise fueled her performance as she pressed crescent moons into his thighs to remain stable. Her lash extensions drooped under the weight of alligator tears. Her jaw ached from being stretched to capacity over and over. Her thighs burned from her kneeling position. None of the discomforts could deter her from the goal. 

Terry gently placed a warm palm on Patrice’s cheek, admiring her work with a hazy smile. “Missed me, huh?” he breathed out, earning a grin. 

“Mhmmm.”

“I missed you, too. Come here.”

“Missed” was an understatement. A flat-out lie. He was just as needy, just as excited to be inside her, just as ready to abandon demure social norms to unleash the lust and love brewing inside as she was. 

An indescribable pleasure emerged from using and being used. No holds barred. Unrestrained aside from muffled groans unleashed into crisp white pillowcases and skin slick with fresh sweat. 

Terry kept Patrice’s chest pressed into the bed with one hand splayed between her shoulder blades and the other tangled at her roots. She fisted the sheets to keep a grip on the bed and reality while her eyes went in and out of focus. An open mouth produced choked squeaks between sharp breaths. She listened to her name roll from her lover’s lips like a sonnet written just for her. 

He was close. His body tensed with every stroke. Sweet talk broke into throaty groans. Hips lost their rhythm as they sought deeper connection. It was a good angle, but Patrice knew it could be better. It had to get better. This had to be worth it. Who knew when they’d have the chance to fuck each other senseless in the city they made their first commitment to rekindle an almost forgotten flame?

“Let me see you,” Patrice moaned, her head turned just enough to get Terry’s attention. “Please. I wanna see your face.” 

Exhausted limbs shifted and reconnected at the head of the bed, dragging linens along with them. Patrice propped her body on one elbow to shorten the distance between their faces before pulling Terry into a kiss by the back of his head. He was equally tender and possessive, leading with full lips and a tongue eager to taste the remnants of juice and syrup left inside her mouth. 

Then came fingers. Patrice replaced her swollen lips with her middle and ring digits in search of lubrication for other pursuits. The dull ache between her legs needed concentrated attention to reach the promised land. Terry didn’t need further direction. He did as he was told with a gaze just playful enough to convey that he knew what was up. He couldn’t wait to witness what she had in store. 

Their foreheads pressed together as they focused on the slow, lazy circles Patrice drew on her pearl. Terry added his contribution according to her pace, drawing in and out so dazed that he wouldn’t have been able to repeat his name if prompted. 

His brow furrowed to match his effort. “Fuckin’ beautiful.” 

He meant his compliment for his wife though he spoke the words to the body responsible for his glee in the moment. She giggled and threw her head back like a cowgirl to enjoy the ride.

Terry readjusted his angle to chase her lips as a familiar tingle set in. His arms hooked one leg at the bend of her knee before pressing forward on one hand for leverage to drive faster. Harder. 

They were close again, each chasing an individual high harder and faster than before. 

Patrice tried to play innocent as her sultry voice egged him on with seemingly innocuous statements. “You’re so good to me, baby. What did I do to deserve you, hm?”

He tried to slow down, tried to prolong the moment despite his hips driving forward with more and more power. Patrice licked and kissed the shell of his ear to egg him on. 

“Don’t hold back, Terrence. I’m all yours.”

A whimper escaped past his lips before a simple concession speech. “Oh…fuck.”

An unraveling. Muffling broken words against lips curled into a triumphant smile, Terry came undone with his eyes clamped shut to see colors dance behind closed lids. Her orgasm crashing in wasn’t enough for Patrice to break eye contact. She stared back the entire time, mouth opened and eyes transfixed in a devious stare under low eyelids. She didn’t want to miss a moment of his chest heaving, arms tensing, and hips bucking to deliver her the perfect body high she could get without drugs. Earth-shattering, thigh-quaking releases had their place, no doubt. They could never replace the sensation of falling more in love with every electric shockwave brought forth by the love of her life. 

Terry floated back into reality feeling lightheaded, stress-free, and searching for sweet kisses to cap off filthy deeds. 

“Baby, you’re a real pain in my ass, you know that?” he joked before pressing three quick pecks to Patrice’s lips. “Spoiled and gorgeous.”

She giggled along with him. “If that’s true, why haven’t I been able to get rid of you yet.”

“Because I like you like that. You think I do all this for you to be normal?” 

Light laughter and yet another round of theme song guitar synths rang out as they disconnected and found rest cuddled atop crumpled sheets. Patrice shifted to place her chest on top of Terry’s and traced her index finger along his beautiful cheekbones. 

“We’re playing with fire, TJ. I know you got the notification about this week being risky.”

“Don’t act like I was the one throwing a tantrum this morning.” 

“A tantrum is strong, okay! A tiny meltdown, maybe.” The sudden ring of her long-forgotten alarm cut their laughter short and drew attention to the nightstand. “Right on time.” Patrice stretched across Terry to handle the distraction, drawing his physical attention as he caressed and dropped kisses along her hip. She came back to him and kissed both of his lips separately. “Sorry for being a bitch. I’m working on it.”

“Ask for what you want next time. It’s yours. I’m yours,” He answered as he pushed a few stray braids over her shoulder.

“Use my words?” 

“Use your words.”

“I need more kisses. Or I'll melt. You wouldn't let me melt, right?”

Amorous feelings were back on the rise as they shared a slow, relaxed kiss unfit for two people on a tight schedule. 

Patrice pulled a way first to nuzzle her nose against Terry’s. “D’you wanna shower with me? It’s okay if you don’t. I just…need to spend a little more time together.”

She was bashful, almost refusing to look him in the face as if asking him to bathe together was somehow more revealing than what they’d just shared. 

“Not too hot on the water, alright?”

“Yes, sir.”

Terry chuckled as another kiss and loose instructions sent Patrice on her way with a giddy hop in her step. He listened to her make arrangements in the bathroom while he made the room more like somewhere to sleep and not ground zero of a natural disaster. 

He placed clothes in neat stacks, straightened items that took a tumble in the heat of the moment and piled dirty sheets in the middle of their bed. When all was complete, he took a seat to contact the front desk. 

“Hey, could we get some fresh sheets later today? Room 335.” Patrice calling for him from the shower made him smile against the receiver. “Sure, extra towels too. Yes ma’am. I appreciate it.” 

Thank God for housekeeping. In one hour the room would return to pristine condition for another romp or relaxation. A night of good food and better drinks would decide their fate for them.

-------

TAGS: @planetblaque @wvsspoppin @thatone-girly @avoidthings @slutsareteacherstoo @eilujion @amyhennessyhouse @yaachtynoboat711 @jenlovey @pinkpantheris @blowmymbackout @onherereading @hrlzy @becauseimswagman1 @thiccc-c @urfavblackbimbo @blackburnbook @ashanti-notthesinger @xo-goldengirl @ariiijestertheklown @blyffe @tvchi @wabi-sabi1090 @blackmoonchilee

[bumblingbabooshka]

I think Sarek and Amanda Grayson both lowkey seeing their children as little experiments in different ways is undeniably bad parenting BUT .... I mean you talk about matching each other's freak .... Like imagine for a second Sarek is like "I am going to show that Humans are just as good as Vulcans by molding this Human child and my half Human son into the perfect Vulcans - This will show that despite what society thinks of as their genetic inferiority, they're just as good as any Vulcan." and Amanda's response to that is to think "Sarek is wrong...Michael's humanity MUST be preserved...so that I can show her all the love and affection I can't show Spock and maybe through their sibling bond all my unspoken and unexpressed love can trickle down to him through her." What are you both DOOOOING!?? You guys are NUTS like PLEASE just TALK to each other and compromise about how you're going to raise your children!! [Love the drama though] So I'm imagining in my head that Sarek is severely pressuring both Spock and Michael to act as perfect Vulcans their entire lives with him or else they're failures not only in his eyes but in all of society's (because he's an ambassador and raising these children is tied irrevocably with his work as such) WHILE Amanda is secretly trying to funnel her humanity and love for Spock through Michael and as such failure to receive, express, or internalize that love is failing not only your mother but also the entire Human race. Damned if you do damned if you don't! Who do you want to disappoint more, kids?

In 'Point of Light' Amanda says that she gave Michael all of the love, joy, and affection which she wasn't "permitted" (we must question the use of the word - what stopped her from directly giving Spock this love? I'm not saying there wasn't pressure for her not to, I'm saying the word 'permitted' absolves her of any personal choice or failing in a way that's interesting to me) to give Spock and though this is on the surface level sweet and probably meant to be interpreted that way, I submit that it must be kind of fucked up to hear that your foster mother was maybe only so kind and caring to you because she felt she wasn't allowed to act that way towards her "real" son. Michael Burnham as a tool for both her parents, however unintentional, is very interesting and I'm not sure it's something canon considers (haven't watched the show, I just like imagining things). The feeling that you have to be grateful to these people for not only being your parents but being YOUR parents. For taking you in and giving you a beautiful life - you have to pay them back, you have to make them especially proud of YOU. Because they didn't HAVE to, did they? Because you're not their "real" child. In the end, it's always Spock - isn't it? The love your mother gives you is Spock's love and if only one child can enter the Vulcan Science Academy then it has to be Spock. You're the appetizer your father serves before the REAL main course and your mother's stuffed doll which represents the thing she REALLY wants to hold and you know they genuinely care about you. That's the worst part. Because you know they care and they didn't mean to hurt you and the voice in the back of your head keeps telling you that any hurt they've dealt you pales in comparison to the debt you owe them and they love you, they love you, they love you, they love you, they love you [repeat as often as need be: remember the debt]

[triglycercule]

thinking so much about horror and dust,,, gosh these SILLY goobers theyre so EYDAGHGGG!!!!! compliments to eachother,,,,,

i need them to make puns about topics that absolutely nobody should be laughing about and then DIE cackling because no waaay the punchline was a human's execution :333 (phantom papyrus is shaking his head in dismay)

need them to share stories about shitty experiences with humans and for horror to be impressed by dust's ability to keep coming up with new ways to kill his human and then for dust to also be impressed by horror's ability to handle with all different types of humans!!!

they make eachother food but dust poisoned horror's food and horror added rusted nails to his so theyre just like no you first you really should eat first i wouldn't wanna be rude no but i INSIST! they both know. it's a fun little game isnt it??? horror gets a bit scared of having to eat the food when dust's eyes turn red and cyan but it's okay because then he can just shove the shitty eggs he made into those eyes because theres literal NAILS cooked into it

sometimes they fight because thats normal and dust is annoyed at horror for hating undyne because she's a good person who just wanted to help others and horror's getting pissed because DIDN'T YOU LITERALLY KILL HER DONT YOU JUST VIEW HER AS EXP WHY ARE YOU DEFENDING HER!!! and they bicker back and forth and dust is really starting to wonder why he even empathizes with horror atp.... but its ok after a little quarrel they simmer down and move on. they dont change opinions at all the fight was for nothing

but then there's also times when they just wanna confide in each other because likeeeee theyre both shitty people who fucked up their undergrounds by their own accords and miss how peaceful life was back then. dust tells horror stories of life back before the human came because horror doesn't really remember it that well anymore and horror speaks to phantom papyrus through dust so he can pretend that this is just a conversation between sans and papyrus and everything's okay for just a moment. they both linger onto their memories of how things were before everything went to shit even though horror can barely remember and dust hates his previous self back then,,,,,

dust thinks horror's sooo much better than him for not literally mass murdering everyone but then goes around and stink eyes him for forcing his snowdin to eat humans and then leave the rest of the underground to starve. WHY DIDN'T YOU DO BETTER HORROR WHY DIDN'T HELP EVERYONE ELSE. horror scoffs because even though he kinda lowkey gets dust's philosophy of saving everyone and stopping the human through gaining LV he still killed everyone??? WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT TO THEM YOU IDIOT SHOULD'VE JUST FOUND ANOTHER WAY OR LET IT HAPPEN!!! the way they understand eachother on paper but then in reality despise what the other did,,,,,

ok SO WHAT if they encourage eachother's delusions. SO WHAT if they pretend the past never went away so WHAAAAT!!! it doesn't matter at least they found someone who can match their freak,,,,,, dust and horror peak duo PEAK DUO DARE I SAY OK

[rivercule]

One thing I will say. There’s no way the penthouse shit went down like that. “Hey I’m gonna leave you here with this guy who could easily kill either of us and has every reason, as far as I know, to want you dead. Don’t worry I sternly told him to leave you alone. Oh wait he turned you into a vampire? Yeah I’m sure that was uneventful. Not sure that qualifies as hurting you either so I think we’re all good.”

They’re definitely going to revisit that.

[eywaseclipse]

I get so flustered from this scene because they were absolutely FUKKKKKKINNNNN that night and I am still so mad we can’t see it fully rendered

[lettythepetty]

Do you have a favorite Davron trope?

Hi anon!! o/ Hmm, good question lol see, other than the usual "friends-to-enemies-to-lovers" pipeline, I think another trope I love, off the top of my head, is "Rugged Carefree Freak With a Secret Soft Side x Perceived Anxious Softy Pushover Who's Actually A Bit Of a Freak". (And I use "freak" affectionately, btw)

Like, I just love to imagine Davos being his usual chaotic, forward, aggressive, carefree self, meeting Aeron and slowly going soft and romantic; and contrasting that with Aeron who, at first, would've been more of a goody-two-shoes, hollier-than-thou type of guy, only for when he finally meets Davos and starts to hang out with him, you find out that he's actually got quite the strength within him too, and that's enough to surprise even Davos himself lol

[jadewritesficshere]

Dream A Little Dream of Me

Steddie. Contains: wet dreams, arguments, makeouts. 18+only

Eddie groaned, hands running down someone's spine before grabbing their hips.

"You're so fucking perfect," He gasped out. The lewd sound of skin slapping skin filled the air intermingled with moans. "Harder," the person gasps, reaching a hand back. Eddie moves his hand to hold the hand of the person. He glances up to the face peering back at him, into Steve-

Eddie jolts awake with a gasp. His heart beats fast as he tries to catch his breath. His skin is soaked in sweat and realizes that his boxers are soaked with his own release. Which, what's more embarrassing, waking up after coming or having a wet dream about your best friend?

Eddie shakes his head to try and get rid of his thoughts. He runs a hand over his head pushing his hair back as he exhales. "Damn," Eddie mumbles," Just a dream." He slowly gets up to handle the situation in his boxers, unsure if he's disappointed that it wasn't real.

~~~~~~

Eddie isn't a stranger to sexy dreams. He's, to put it plainly, horny. It isn't like he's had much experience, just the guy or girl who has sucked him off in the bathroom at the bar.

So- horny. Eddie knows that can fuel dreams. He once dreamt he was making out with the news anchor on the local news. He dreamt he fucked a fruit once, which almost tempted him to try it.

But point is, Eddie's had dreams like this before. He's been able to brush them off.

But this dream about Steve...

All Eddie can see now is Steve beneath him. Mouth around him. Eddie in him. Every position is running rampant in Eddie's brain.

He feels like everything Steve does now is obscene. The way Steve's muscles flex in his bicep as he puts movies away. The way he moves his hips as he shimmies dancing with Robin. The curl of his lip as he snarls and bitches about customers, just begging to have Eddie's own lips pressed against them. The curls of chest hair peeking out over his shirt, taunting Eddie to run a hand through it. The moles and freckles dancing across his skin, begging Eddie to trace them with his tongue.

Eddie thinks he's losing his mind. He also thinks Steve has to know, and is doing things on purpose just to drive him insane. What ever happened to squatting down to pick up something off the ground? Now Steve is just bending at the waist, ass pressed all up against those jeans, taunting him.

Eddie's emotions are everywhere. One minute he wants to confess his love like for Steve. The next he wants to throttle Steve for making him feel this way. One minute he's jerking off, gasping and moaning as euphoria hits. The next he feels insanely guilty for thinking about his best friend that way.

It gets worse when Steve notices.

Well, Eddie thinks he notices. Steve's eyes seem to stay on him a bit too long. Steve's hands grip his shoulder and squeeze too much. Eddie can't survive this torture. Those beautiful eyes peering into his own, Eddie knows one glimpse and Steve could see his entire being.

Eddie just has to ignore it. If he can ignore it, things can go back to normal. He can deal with it dwelling in the back of his mind. He has for years, ever since seeing Steve on the swimming team- which, great now he's remembering those short trunks on his muscular thighs and-

Eddie screams into a pillow, cursing a few times for added emphasis. Why does Steve have to be so hot? So good? So Steve. Eddie bites the pillow, glaring at the wall over the top of it. Just ignore it, push it back down. But as his cock hardens, he can't help his hand reaching down and thinking, just one more time.

~~~~~~

"Okay, enough!" Steve glares, hands on his hips. Eddie has to try to restrain himself from looking at Steve's hips, his crotch. "What?" Eddie bites back, arms crossing.

Steve huffs and shakes his head," What is with this attitude? If you didn't want to hang out you didn't have to come over!"

Eddie's eyes narrow at the tone. Steve's voice has the same angry bitchy tone he uses when talking about the Worst Customers. Steve is using that voice talking about him.

"I don't have a fucking attitude princess! Maybe watch your damn tone." Eddie throws his hands up and leans back into the couch further. "My tone!? My tone!?" Steve barks out a laugh," What about yours?"

"I don't have a fucking tone!" Eddie glares. Okay, maybe he does. But how's a man supposed to act when their crush answered the door shirtless? Letting his eyes wander down his chest to his happy trail to-

"You've been a sarcastic little bitch all evening!" Steve steps forward, finger pointing against Eddie's chest," You're glaring, you're pouting, rolling your eyes. You're in a fucking mood, don't take it out on me! I didn't do anything!" With each word, Steve jabs his finger against Eddie's chest.

Eddie snatches Steve's wrist, emotions bubbling over as he yells," Yes, you did!"

Steve's eyes widen and his jaw drops slightly. The fire in his eyes dies out. "Oh," Steve pauses," I didn't..." Steve tries to remove his hand from Eddie's grasp, causing him to panic and tighten his hold.

"I'm sor-" "Fuck, Steve. I didn't mean it like that." Eddie sighs," You're just...you." "If this is the whole "it's not you it's me" speech I don't want to-" "You're beautiful."

Steve freezes at Eddie's words. Eddie can't help but continue," You're fucking gorgeous man. Your arms, your legs, you know your ass looks good. (Steve hums in agreement) A person who looks that good should have a terrible personality. But you don't! You're kind, protective, selfless. I could go on, I just, damn man. You're the total package and I can't stop thinking about you.

When I go to bed I'm thinking of you, when I wake up I imagine waking up next to you. Hell, even my dreams are full of you! So, yes, I do have a mood Steve. Because I know you could never be with a guy like me."

"Says who?"

Eddie freezes. That's...no, he must be suffering from some form of hearing loss cause there's no way-

"Says who?" Steve implores, hand on Eddie's jaw, lifting his face so Eddie's staring into Steve's. "Uh..." Eddie blinks a few times. His tongue darts out to wet his lips and he watches as Steve's eyes trace the movement.

Steve's eyes who, a minute ago had lost all fire, was alight with flames again. Steve's thumb lightly traces Eddie's lower lip, causing a shiver to go down his spine.

Eddie parts his lips, letting Steve's thumb rest against them. He hesitantly licks the tip, giving him a chance to pull away. But Steve doesn't, no, he pushes his thumb harder against Eddie's mouth, causing Eddie to open further.

Eddie wraps his mouth around Steve's finger and sucks lightly. "Fuck," Steve steps closer," You should have said something sooner. You're on my mind too Eddie."

Eddie's eyes flutter closed as his tongue circles Steve's thumb. He can feel himself start to harden against his already tight jeans. Steve pulls his thumb out of Eddie's mouth with a pop. Eddie starts to let out a whine when Steve straddles his lap.

Which- Eddie thinks he's dead. Because Steve hasn't even done anything except sit in his lap and he thinks he's in Heaven. Eddie's hands automatically grasp Steve's hips.

Steve shifts forward slightly, both men holding back moans as their bulges grind against each other. Steve wraps his arms around Eddie's neck, leaning forward.

Their noses brush before their lips touch. Eddie can't help but sigh. Steve's lips are as soft as he thought they'd be. Eddie hopes it's good for Steve, cursing himself for not putting chapstick on recently. All sense of time is lost as their lips move in tandem. It could be five seconds or five minutes of them kissing, and Eddie never wants it to end.

They break apart, panting as Steve helps Eddie take his shirt off. As soon as his arms are free, Eddie grabs Steve's ass, a nice handful. He can't wait to worship it later. Steve sheds his own shirt, leaning back to kiss Eddie.

Steve's chest hair rubs against Eddie's sparse own. Steve rubs his hands up and down Eddie's front, pausing a moment to roll one of Eddie's nipples. Eddie whimpers as pleasure licks down his spine.

Steve rolls his hips into Eddie's, causing him to gasp. Steve deepens the kiss, licking into his mouth without hesitation. With each movement of Steve's hips, his clothed cock hits Eddie's just right. Eddie can't hold back the moan that escapes him.

Steve pulls back, a wicked grin on his face. Eddie knows he must look a sight. He can feel his face is flushed, lips slightly swollen from kissing. His cock feels harder then a diamond. A wet spot formed on the inside of his boxers where precum has leaked.

Eddie recalls his dream. How Steve was splayed out in front of him. But as Steve goes to unbutton Eddie's pants, Eddie can't help but imagine he may have gotten it wrong. Maybe Eddie is the one who's gonna be laid out in front of Steve.

[jarold-rat]

I am NOT fucking inking this

based on me having the chewy part of a cow foot. i didnt like it despite how similar it is to cow tongue.. my favorite type of cow meat.....

[acediaedeus]

always enjoy it when Grimmjow pulls out the “Hollows don’t have a heart” propaganda, because, bitch, you definitely bleed like you’ve got one. these showers of blood wouldn’t be possible if not for the itty bitty little heart pumping away inside your chest, darling, sorry to disappoint ƪ(˘⌣˘)ʃ

and yeah, it’s obviously more about the metaphorical “heart” and bla bla bla, but let me have my fun (^_−)−☆

[mamorigami]

here to once again complain about ft and just the. existence of irene & being the mother of erza, which subsequently didn't matter at all after that arc ended. im scratching my head still at the prospect of giving erza an on-page mother, especially so late in the story with no build up outside the arc. idk if im making this up but i remember reading that it wasn't intentional at first, but irene ended up looking so much like erza that it was implemented in the story. i think thats dumb and stupid and boring and dumb!! fair warning that i barely acknowledge irene and erza's familial relation, any development is going be heavily canon-divergent & full of my own tweaks in regards to irene and her story..

[wreckedhoney]

cant fuck with fandom takes that defuck extremist characters. blorbo set fire to multiple buildings killed dozens and will do so again. every incident is accompanied by a rant about some warped issue or pathetic self perspective and a lot of bared teeth. then enough people who watched the same thing i watched will just.. not register that this is an angry personality. objectively bad and toxic. among other things. like suddenly seeing takes about this genuine asswipe being a normal chill person. where did u see this. what happened. where is my genuinely unwell off-putting blorbo. who the fuck is this

[professorlegaspi]

We know next to nothing about Veradisa’s personality, but her friend choices are so revealing. You’re telling me she’s best friends with Lyerly? That freak of nature? Okay so she’s a little bit weird herself

[kiyomitakada]

[chin in hand] i feel like pretty much all except one of the ships i like in dn are ones where i am dead certain one of them was in love but idk about the other one