#and it made me remember how much fun I had and how much I loved the series through my whole childhood and adolescence and like.

[leahwllmsn]

so high school | alexia putellas x reader

You know two things about Alexia Putellas.

Alexia Putellas is the school’s football captain and troublemaker. From showing up late to most of her classes, to getting caught smoking under the bleachers—usually when the name Alexia Putellas is mentioned, it’s not anything good.

That’s why the second thing you know about Alexia Putellas is that you have to stay far, far away from her.

You are the picture perfect high school student. Straight A’s, president of the student council, president of the debate team, all the teachers love you, and all the students envy you. That’s why you promised yourself that you’ll never associate yourself with someone like Alexia Putellas.

It worked out well for years. You’ve been in the same school ever since you were kids but you have never said as much as a ‘hello’ to the brunette.

You’re happy about that.

Staying as far away as possible from Alexia Putellas means you will never get in trouble.

So with the years of experience of avoiding Alexia Putellas, you don't know how you get to this point. Maybe the universe wants to teach you a lesson, maybe the universe just doesn't like you, or maybe you have simply run out of luck. Because one moment you're taking down notes and the next, your history teacher has paired you up with the person you swear you’ll never interact with.

When class is over and everyone rushes out, you go up to the teacher because this is unfair, Alexia Putellas isn’t even in class today. And when he answers your complaints with a shrug and a tone so final that you know he won’t change his mind, you know you’re screwed.

-

“I can’t believe this is happening.”

“Me neither,” your best friend sighs, unwrapping her lunch. “Can’t believe Ona is sick today and I have to put up with your ass alone.”

You roll your eyes. You’re sitting at your usual table at the cafeteria, the spot where Ona usually sits empty. “You would be nicer to me if you knew what just happened to me.”

“Did you get detention?”

“As if,” you scoff. “Now that I think about it, this is worse.”

Aitana turns to look at you, eyebrow raising in question. “What could be worse than that in your standards?”

“This stupid history project.”

“You calling an assignment stupid? That’s a first.”

You let out a sigh, placing your head on the table. “It’s because I got paired up with Alexia Putellas.”

“No way.”

You don't have to look at Aitana to know that she’s trying not to laugh at you. You grunt in reply, your friends always seem to make fun of you every time you’re miserable about something.

“You know, y/n,” Aitana nudges you, causing you to lift your head. “She’s actually not that bad.”

You furrow your brows. “You’ve talked to her?”

“Obviously,” Aitana looks at you like you’ve grown two heads. “She’s captain of the football team. I’m on the football team. Or did you forget?”

“Right,” you grimace as you remember that Alexia Putellas is Aitana’s captain. “Wait, but you’re actually friends with her outside of the field?” You shudder at the thought.

Aitana rolls her eyes. “You sound so dramatic right now.”

“I just can’t wrap my head around the fact that you’re friends with Alexia Putellas.”

“Stop saying her name like that,” Aitana laughs. “Sure, she brings trouble wherever she goes, but she’s not as bad as people made her out to be. And she’s a fantastic footballer.”

“She’s bad news,” you cross your arms. “Do you remember that time when she showed up to school one morning with her face so bruised up, all we could see were bandages?”

“Yeah,” Aitana says casually, taking a bite out of her lunch. “She got into a fight with someone from the men’s team.”

“Exactly!” you slap Aitana’s arm repeatedly. “She started a fight with the captain of the football team. She’s insane.”

“Men’s football team,” Aitana corrects your statement. “And was it the captain? I swore I remember it being that good-for-nothing defender. Anyway, I’m sure she had her reasons.”

You shrug. “She’s still bad news.”

“And she’s also your history project partner,” Aitana grins at you. “I have her number if you want.”

“No, it’s fine,” you sigh, once again placing your head on the table. “I’ll go look for her after school.”

“Cheer up, grumpy. I have a feeling you’ll like her.”

You scoff. “I think you’re way off, but sure.”

-

tana: oni, first day without you here and y/n is a grumpy mess

y/n: I’m in pain. Stfu.

oni: what’d I miss

tana: y/n’s on her way to talk to alexia

oni: ????

y/n: It’s not what you think.

y/n: I have to talk to her about our history project.

oni: ...goodluck?

y/n: Thanks, I need it.

tana: vry dramatic

-

You have never imagined yourself to be where you are right now. Everyone knows that under the bleachers is the spot where people go when they want to do things that they don’t want the teachers to see—like smoking, or maybe making out with someone. Or other things, you don't really know, because you have never been here.

And you won’t ever step foot in here if it’s not because of Alexia Putellas.

The second you step under the bleachers, the faint smell of smoke wafts up your nose and you have to blink back a couple of times because it’s not as bright as you expected. You figure it’s probably because it’s going to rain soon.

As you takes more steps forward, you realize that no one was there and that maybe you should’ve accepted Aitana’s offer of Alexia Putellas’ number.

You sigh and pull out your phone from the pocket of your jeans. You’re about to press the call button on Aitana’s contact when a voice startles you.

“Looking for me?”

You turn around and standing in front of you is the person you’ve been looking for.

(And you don't know why but the sight of Alexia Putellas in her leather jacket and messy brown hair is making your heart beat faster than it should.)

“I am.” you reply, walking towards her.

“The y/n l/n is looking for me? To what do I owe the pleasure?”

(You hate the way Alexia Putellas’ smirk doesn’t do anything to calm your racing heart.)

“You weren’t in history class today,” you cross your arms. “Why?”

“So you’re worried about me.”

“Why would I be?” you narrow your eyes at the brunette. “We’re partners for a project.”

“Cool.”

You want to scream at how frustrated you are at this whole thing. Alexia Putellas doesn’t care about her grades, she has proven that many times when teachers have always used her as an example of having multiple failing grades. You wonder if they’d expel her if she isn’t the superstar captain of the women’s football team.

“Look,” you rub your temple. “I’m not thrilled about this either—”

“Who says I’m not thrilled?”

“You’re Alexia Putellas, I highly doubt you’d be thrilled about an assignment.”

“Maybe for once I’m thrilled because I have you as a partner.”

“Whatever,” you roll your eyes. “As I was saying, you probably don’t want to do this, right? Which is fine, because what I’ll do is that I’ll get it done and I’ll still put in your name.”

Alexia gives you a confused look. “So you’ll do all the work?”

“Exactly. We don’t have to interact at all, problem solved.”

“You don’t want to hang with me?” Alexia pouts. “I’m sad, y/n.”

And you’re starting to feel the heat rising to your cheeks—no, it's not because of the pout on Alexia Putellas’ face showing just how plump her lips are and it's definitely not because of the sudden thought that flashes in your mind about how those lips would feel on your own. No, you will argue that it's not because of all that. It’s because it has started raining and it’s making it even stuffier under the bleachers.

“I’m going to leave now,” you announce. “It was good to talk to you.”

When you walk past her, you don’t expect her to grab you by the wrist (and you don’t expect Alexia Putellas’ touch to be so gentle).

“Wait,” Alexia starts. “We’re partners, right? I should at least contribute to something.”

You look down at your wrist, still seeing Alexia’s hand around it. “Uhm, I won’t tell anyone, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Alexia lets go of her hold (and you would be lying if you say you don't feel the slight disappointment creeping in). “It’s not because of that,” Alexia clarifies. “I just want to do it.”

You still look unconvinced and Alexia must’ve noticed too, because she rolls her eyes and murmurs, “Is my reputation really that bad that me wanting to participate in my own assignment is such a surprise?”

“Yes? It’s a two-month long project. Even I’m exhausted just thinking about it.”

Alexia ignores your answer and proceeds to pull out her phone. She unlocks it and hands it to you.

You look at her questioningly and Alexia sighs. “Put your number in.”

“My number?”

“How should we contact each other about the project?”

You stay quiet for a moment, taking in Alexia’s face. She looks determined and it’s weird to you because you figure she would just accept your offer of doing all the work for her. “You’re serious about this.”

“Just put your number and we’ll figure a schedule out.”

You’re still looking at Alexia skeptically but slowly reaches out to take the phone and put your number in nonetheless.

And when you see that her phone wallpaper is a picture of her smiling (adorably) at the camera next to her dog, you don’t think that’s how a troublemaker should look like. You wonder just how much you know about Alexia Putellas.

-

Their first meeting doesn’t go well—you expected this.

You agreed to meet at the library after school the next day and you have been sitting there, waiting for an hour until you decide to give up because stupid Alexia Putellas is nowhere to be found. You are so pissed.

You get up and slings your backpack over your shoulder. You make it to the parking lot and are about to unlock your car when you hear a voice call out to you.

“y/n!”

You don't have to turn around to know who the voice belongs to. It’s the same voice you heard yesterday under the bleachers (and the voice that somehow made it to your dream last night, but you will never admit this).

You ignore the calls and keep on walking. You’re a few steps away from your car when suddenly Alexia catches up to you and jumps in front of you, making you jump slightly and halting your steps.

“Hey.” Alexia says, trying to catch her breath.

You cross your arms, scowling at her. “What do you want?”

“I’m sorry I’m late.”

“Ten minutes is late, an hour just means you never wanted to come in the first place.”

Alexia winces. “I do want to come, I swear. I overslept.”

You look unamused. “It’s 3 p.m.”

“I know,” Alexia flashes a sheepish smile. “I decided to take a nap while I wait for your debate thing to end, but I overslept.”

And you would have never believed that excuse if it’s not for the groggy voice and the pillow face she’s wearing. So you just sigh and motion for her to follow you as you walk towards the bleachers because that’s the only place you could think of going since the library is closing soon.

-

“I really am sorry for making you wait.”

You’re sitting at the top of the bleachers, you at the tallest step with your laptop on your lap and Alexia looking up at you from one step below.

“It’s fine,” your replies were short. You’re still a little bit annoyed at the whole situation. If you could’ve picked a partner for history class, it would be Ona. Ona will never be late and Ona will never annoy you this much.

But the way that Alexia keeps on apologizing every few minutes and looking away with a pout on her face when you don't respond, you’re also sure that Ona will never make your heart flutter the way it does around Alexia Putellas—and you don’t want to think of what this could mean.

-

After an hour of sitting uncomfortably under the hot sun, you figure out another thing about Alexia Putellas.

Alexia Putellas is incredibly smart and you’re surprised at how eloquent she is when she lists down everything she knows about the history of Catalonia.

“You fail almost all your classes.” you speak up.

“Yes,” Alexia nods. “What does that have to do with anything I just said?”

“I just wasn’t expecting you to say all that.”

Alexia grins at her. “Do you like surprises, y/n?”

“Uhm, I guess.” you stare back at her confused.

Alexia hums. “Then I guess I’ll have to keep on surprising you.”

You don't respond because you don’t know how to. So you focus your attention back to your laptop and try your best to type something down in order to take your mind off how Alexia Putellas is doing something to you and you’re not sure if it's a good thing or not.

-

Your next meeting starts off well. Alexia is early, you walk into the library to find the brunette already there, her usual leather jacket folded on the chair next to her.

It’s a week after your first meeting and you will never admit it, but you have been looking forward to this day for the whole week.

(It’s because you just want to get this project done, you would convince yourself.)

(Not because in the classes you have with Alexia, she always sits at the back when you sit at the front, so you never really get to see her.)

(No, it’s not because of this.)

“Hi, boss,” Alexia smiles at you. “I didn’t oversleep today.”

“That’s good to hear,” you say, sitting down and opening your bag to take out your laptop.

“I know you’re proud of me.”

You roll your eyes, a small smile on your lips. “Where do you even take your naps?”

“Under the bleachers.”

“Seriously?” you raise your eyebrows. “That must be uncomfortable.”

Alexia shrugs. “There’s a bed.”

“I’m sorry—what?”

“There’s this small mattress. I don’t know who it belongs to or why it’s there, but it’s there.”

You nod, a confused expression still on your face. “I see.”

“I can take you there sometime.”

You don't know if Alexia meant it in a flirty way, but judging by the smirk on her face, she did. So you just roll your eyes and type in the password to your laptop. “You should take me out to dinner first.”

“Okay, I will.” Alexia says it so nonchalantly and you wonder if Alexia’s stomach is filling up with butterflies too.

-

It’s not until the third meeting that you start to text each other with stuff unrelated to the project.

ale: did u know that chipmunks have 4 toes on their back paws but 5 toes on their front ones

y/n: No?

ale: well now u do :-)

y/n: Did you know that you look like you’re part of the chipmunk family?

ale: ???

ale: heeey

y/n: What’s up?

ale: nothin, just thinking about u

y/n: Why

ale: just because

y/n: Are you expecting me to say that I’m thinking about you too?

ale: you are? :D

y/n: No.

ale: whatever ;(

y/n: Why was the chipmunk late for work?

ale: did I miss a conversation somewhere

y/n: Because traffic was nuts.

ale: …

ale: I love it

And it’s not until the fifth meeting that you realize another thing about Alexia Putellas, and that is: Alexia Putellas makes you smile a lot.

You wonder what people think about when the stupid smile on your face appears every time you receive a text from her. Even Ona and Aitana have been pestering you non-stop about it and you’re running out of excuses as to why with every notification you receive, your lips seem to curve upwards automatically.

ale: u look beautiful

y/n: ?

ale: just stating what I see

y/n: Smooth talker. You’re not even here.

ale: I am, on ur right

y/n: Oh wow.

y/n: Aren’t you always out smoking under the bleachers during lunch?

ale: you pay attention :D

You stop once you read Alexia’s text because you do pay attention.

Suddenly, you can’t count on your fingers anymore about how many things you know about Alexia Putellas.

Alexia has a ‘resting bitch face’, that's one of the reasons why people are scared of her. She never smiles when she walks down the hallway, her face barely shows any emotion.

Alexia likes to intimidate people, she does that when people stare at her too long and she glares at them in return. And when they scurry away, she would smile in amusement.

Alexia likes to get into trouble, it’s like she purposely wants to get into trouble with how she picks a fight with someone every week and how she always talks back to the teacher.

Alexia Putellas is exactly how people paint her out to be—a reckless troublemaker who doesn’t care about anything and is always angry at the world about something.

But at the same time, you know that's not everything about her.

You know that Alexia is ridiculously talented at football. You’ve come to their matches enough to figure out that every time she touches the ball, it’s magic. You were there in support of Aitana and Ona, obviously. Not Alexia. (But your YouTube history being full of Alexia’s games may be because you were interested in staring at her. Not that you would admit it).

You know that Alexia is warm and gentle and she has different types of smiles. Alexia has a small smile every time she locks eyes with you in the hallways. Alexia has that smile that reaches her eyes when she laughs at something you say even though you’re pretty sure it’s not even that funny. Alexia has a wistful smile every time the day ends and you leave in your car and she leaves in hers.

You know that Alexia taps her foot repeatedly when she’s focusing on doing something. You know that Alexia has the attention span of a five year old because every five minutes, she would whine about how she’s hungry or how she’s getting tired of the library.

You know that Alexia is funny and she makes you laugh so much that you have lost track on how many times the librarian has told you to keep it down.

You know that Alexia is sweet and charming and she says things that make you want to run home and hide because your cheeks would always redden up.

You know that you like seeing a smile on Alexia’s face a thousand times more than the scowl she’s known to have.

ale: hey? why are u spacing out

And even though you feel that you now know everything about Alexia, you realize that you still don't know one thing about her.

You don’t know why Alexia is so different when she’s around you.

-

You are a problem-solver. That is one of the reasons why you’re such a good student—once you encounter a problem, you immediately think of ways to figure it out and most of the time, it’ll only take you a couple of hours to do so.

And so, you are baffled at how you still can’t figure out the mystery of Alexia Putellas.

You’ve spent most of your time together wondering why Alexia seems to smile more when you’re there or why no one but you sees the sparkle in Alexia’s eyes that is brighter than any stars out there, but the answer seems to never come to you.

So when your project has finally ended and you would no longer have your weekly meetings at the library, you should’ve noticed the dejected look on Alexia’s face and that should’ve given you a clue to the answer you have been so desperately searching for.

But apparently you’re not that smart after all, because once your last meeting ends, you bid Alexia goodbye and go home to spend the rest of your day watching Netflix.

And when Alexia doesn’t text you at night like she usually would, you don't think much of it and let yourself sleep instead.

-

You don't see Alexia the following week. She’s not in the cafeteria, or in the hallways, or even in the classes you share once you look to the back of the classroom where she usually sits.

Alexia doesn’t text you either and you know you should’ve text her first, but you figure Alexia is just busy so you don’t reach out.

And when you don't see Alexia in school for another week but Aitana and Ona see her at practice, you realize that Alexia has been avoiding you.

-

You have never been good with feelings. Especially if it involves someone who you have swore you would stay far, far away from.

So you have been ignoring all these feelings inside of you, ignoring the way your heart speeds up at the mention of Alexia, ignoring how your dreams are now filled with Alexia’s sweet face.

But it’s reached a point where you can’t ignore it anymore because the ache in your heart after not having heard from Alexia in weeks was getting bigger and bigger.

It’s that yearning in your chest that causes you to walk to Alexia’s spot under the bleachers in hopes that she’s there. And when you see her leaning against a pole, one hand in the pocket of her leather jacket and the other holding a cigarette, you finally admit that you might be in love with Alexia Putellas.

“Hi.”

You could see Alexia slightly jump in surprise at your voice. She turns around and her eyes widen when they lock with yours.

“y/n.” Alexia says, her tone clearly showing that she’s not expecting to see you.

“Are you avoiding me?” you jump straight to the point.

“What? No. No?” Alexia stammers, throwing her cigarette to the ground and stepping on it. “What makes you think so?”

You simply scoff and step closer to her. “I’m not stupid, you know.”

“I know, you have straight A’s.”

“That’s not what I mean,” you glare at her. “I haven’t heard from you in weeks.”

When Alexia doesn’t reply, you add in a whisper, “I miss you.”

Alexia still isn’t replying, she just keeps on staring at you with a look that you can’t comprehend.

A second later, when Alexia reaches forward and pulls your face towards her and you can taste the smoke on Alexia’s lips, you realize that the answer you’ve been searching for seems to be simpler than you anticipated.

-

Now you don’t remember why you promised yourself to stay as far away as possible from Alexia. And you don't know how you could be happy about never having spoken to Alexia before.

Because with the way Alexia picks you up in the classes you don’t have together just to walk you to your next class and the way Alexia always waits up for your debate club to end before driving you home, you can list down a hundred more reasons why you should always stay near to Alexia.

Because Alexia feels like sunshine and Alexia makes you feel like you’re always walking on clouds.

Now when the name Alexia Putellas is mentioned, you knows it’s everything good in the world all at once.

#alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader #woso #woso x reader #barcelona femeni #woso community #woso one shot #woso fanfics #alexia putellas imagine

[januaryembrs]

JUST A THEORY | Spencer Reid x Reader

Request: congratulations on 2k!!! you deserve that and so much more your writing is incredible! 🥳🥳🥳 if I could jump in with a request could I ask for a Spencer x reader fic where the reader is a journalist/reporter looking into a case as well and they cross paths? I think the tension and bickering would be so fun

Description: There's something about that agent Jennifer brought along with her that pushes every single one of your buttons

Length: 1.6k

warnings: general cm violence, probably not em's best work

“You know this could be considered obstructing a federal investigation,” Spencer huffed, trying to look over your shoulder where you skimmed the book in your hands with meticulous eyes. You ignored him, continuing to read the information despite feeling his burning glare in the back of your head, his breath on your neck as he shadowed your figure around the building. 

“You know the best part about a public library, Doctor Reid? It’s public,” You drawled back, your eyes never ripping from the page except to make a few notes of some key information for your article, “Which means I have every right to be in here just as much as you do,”

You heard him run a hand over his face and tried not to smirk at how easy he was to agitate. You’d heard a lot about the BAU, almost every criminology based paper in Virginia had, and so it wasn’t too surprising to meet the brains behind the reputation when three women had been murdered in the FBI’s home town. Every press association that was worth their money was all over the story, ‘How could this have happened so close to the capital in a city crawling with agents?’, which made your job just that bit more competitive and taxing. 

Yet luckily for you, you knew exactly where to go snooping for answers. It just so happened, the BAU’s resident genius did too.

“I guarantee it would be easier for both of us if you just give me the book first. I can read ten times faster than you,” He snipped, still a pup at your heels where you wandered through the aisles of non-fiction, the white lettering hanging above the shelves spelling PSYCHOLOGY. You rolled your eyes at his persistence, ignoring his attitude as you rounded the corner at the end of the row and looped back to where you’d picked up the book, the man still over your shoulder. 

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you you’re not supposed to talk in libraries?” You hissed back, flicking the page over and hearing his footsteps move in tandem with your own, “I guess you’re just going to have to wait and let the professionals work,” 

You hid a grin, hearing him pause at that, remembering the first day you’d been assigned the story. 

It started only a week ago. The newest victim had been found in the woods, stabbed seven times the same as the other two, her entire body washed in strong bleach, her hair and nails trimmed and ears even swabbed clean. You’d managed to get five minutes to sit with her parents, your pen and trusted notebook at the ready. 

“Why don’t you tell me about what Clara was like as a kid?” You said softly, eyes comforting and calm as you spoke over coffee that was quickly going cold. But you didn’t care. 

You didn’t do this part for ‘the story’. At least not the end of the story, the gory bits and pieces that the other news anchors focused on, how the women were brutalised and beaten, changed by a murderer until they looked unrecognisable. You didn’t like to focus on that, because that wasn’t who the victims were. 

You wanted to tell their story. Who they were before something awful happened to them. 

“She loved to dance,” Clara’s mother, Gwen, sniffled, her cheeks sodden with salted tears. Her voice quivered, croaked like it begged not to be used, but the saddest smile spread on her face when she said it, her husband’s hands clasped tightly in her own, “She used to ask to wear her leotard to bed; we couldn't get that thing off her,” 

You smiled, eyes falling to the pictures the parents had spread across the table in their haste to find the best one for the missing posters. Gwen seemed to follow your eyeline and grabbed one in particular, handing it over to you, gently thumbing the edges like that too might disappear. A little girl, black hair as silken as fresh ink stared back at you, her hands poised delicately above her head like the professional ballerina’s you'd seen on TV, her feet laced into pink pumps. The way she should be remembered, not the images you’d seen of her at the crime scene. 

You opened your mouth to speak again when two agents entered the room. Jennifer Jareau, who you’d worked with on multiple stories like this one to give the families the empathy they deserved, smiled at you civilly, somewhat guilty knowing she was stepping on your toes. Beside her stood a taller man in a matching FBI jacket, his hazelnut curls falling over his frown. 

“Mr and Mrs Townsen,” He addressed the couple solemnly, who looked up at him through red rimmed eyes, their sockets sallow and empty, “We need to ask you a few questions about the last few days you saw Clara before she went missing,”

He flashed his credentials in his right hand, long enough for them to see it was real, and looked to you with a stern stare. 

The couple glanced back to you, the picture still grasped tightly in your fingers, as you flicked a tight look between Jennifer and the new agent carefully. 

“Just one moment,” You told the grieving parents softly, handing the picture back to Gwen, standing to move to one side with the analysts, immediately turning towards Jennifer with confusion, “I thought you said I had until twelve?”

“I’m sorry, I wouldn’t interrupt if it wasn’t important,” The liaison said cordially, the two of you somewhat acquaintances after emailing back and forth for so long. She liked that you didn’t see the bodies as dollar signs, and you liked that she wanted the same as you; to tell the victims stories the way they should be told. 

Sighing, you wrapped up your notepad, delicately pushing the pen through the wire spine. “Can I get an interview with the second family at least? Daily Press was all over that story, and they made an absolute joke of it,” 

“That’s a little hypocritical of you,” The other agent piped up, and your head snapped to him. Eyes roving over his figure, brows furrowing when you realised what he’d said. You looked back to his face in annoyance. 

“Excuse me?” You snipped, crossing your arms over your chest, your notepad brushing against your ribs. 

“I’m just saying, you all get paid for what you write, so it's just as exploitive to write about the victims than it is to write about the crimes,” He shrugged, eyes narrowing when you shifted your weight onto your other foot and raised a brow at him. 

“Unlike you,” Your gaze fell to his badge he still had to hand, “Doctor Reid, I see those women as real people, not just little pictures on a white board. They’re not just dead girls to me, and they’re certainly not just money grabs,” 

Spencer went to retaliate again before JJ put a hand on both your elbows, drawing the attention away from your little spat. 

“We can talk about this later, right now we have an UnSub on the loose that is quickly devolving,” She chided the two of you like you were school children, and you sighed, biting your cheek to stop yourself from snapping back at the man. 

“What does that mean?” You asked quietly, well aware of the grieving parents sitting little more than a few yards from where you stood bickering. 

“It means you’re going to have to wait and let the professionals work,” Spencer cleared, pushing past your shoulder as he went to sit with the Townsens, his eyes swirling into something new and kind and reassuring as he looked at them, a Jekyll and Hyde to the hostility he had towards you. 

You could only suck your teeth in annoyance, before Jennifer pulled you further into the dining room to discuss rearrangements. 

Spencer blanked as he watched you skim reading the textbook, his own words thrown back in his face in an infuriatingly clever move on your part. With little more to say, knowing wit and barking orders would get him nowhere because he couldn’t exactly arrest you for not giving him public property, he resorted to begging.

“Please, give me the book,” He said, the desperation buried in his sigh, and you swivelled on your heels, a devilish grin on your face that had him fighting back an eye roll. 

“Oh, would you look at that? I’m finished,” You said, handing him the files you were reading, passing them over to him with a smirk and he found himself almost smiling at your sarcasm.

Taking the book out of your hand, he debated saying thank you, but instead bit his lip because he'd found you were somewhat incorrigible when you were getting deeper in a story. 

Turning on his heels to check out the book so he could take it back to headquarters, he stopped when you spoke, just a few decibels louder than the ‘Talk Quietly’ sign demanded. 

“Agalmatophilia,” You murmured, and he whipped a look over his shoulders where you were skimming the shelves for a second textbook, seeing as your first one had been commandeered, “The sexual attraction to dolls and mannequins. I know you guys speculated he has some form of OCD but I think it's Agalmatophilia,” You said, drawing a book off the shelf without really looking up to where his brow furrowed in familiarity with the word. He glanced at you then, and you flicked open the page of contents, feeling his eyes boring into the side of your head, muttering under your breath absent-mindedly, “Just a theory,” 

You’d shut him up the entire way back to headquarters. 

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #matthew grey gubler x reader

[ervotica]

you’re an angel, i’m a dog — a.donaldson

pairing; older!art donaldson x fem!reader

warnings; roughly written, badly edited, not beta’d (because when is it ever?), allusions to smut, implied age gap (reader is early 20s, art is early 30s), slight tashi x fem!reader if you squint, infidelity (but tashi is kinda cool with it), just some thoughts about older!art and his pretty girl

a/n; this concept has been eating at me for daysss so i had to write it at least roughly! should we make this a series? (maybe get patrick involved?🫢) let me know what you think! ART & CHALLENGERS (poly!art & patrick) REQUESTS ARE OPEN! any questions / conversation starters about this particular au are highly appreciated and encouraged!! please come to my inbox 📥 <3

older!art is fucking obsessed with you— you, who comes to every one of his matches, who sits next to his wife in those adorable little tennis skirts you sport just for him, who whoops and cheers from the stands whether he wins or loses.

you’re forbidden fruit. so, naturally, he adores you.

tashi knows, because of course she does. she never pries, never so much as spares you a second glance when he wraps his arms around you and buries his face in your neck and huffs hot air against the shell of your ear. she doesn’t care — you’ve made art better at tennis.

his confidence has skyrocketed since having a pretty thing like you cheering him on, his biggest and most enthusiastic supporter. he plays better, he second guesses himself less, he’s more relaxed.

you’re what’s been missing. the last piece of the puzzle.

an obedient little thing, glued to his side, wagging like a dog at his every command.

he fucking loves it. loves having someone relying on him for love and validation. loves the way you preen under his fervent gaze and flutter your lashes at the slightest touch.

when tashi asks you to join art’s team officially, you almost keel over.

“look, i don’t care that he’s fucking you… or that he’s in love with you. he has a shot at the us open this year, and he needs you by his side to do it.” she says. you’re quick to agree, ever obedient and desperate to please.

“he’s in love with me?”

she scoffs. “you’ve seen the way he looks at you. he almost creams his pants every time you’re in the same room as him.” she tilts your chin upwards with a crooked finger, giving your cheek an affectionate - albeit condescending - pat.

“you two can have your fun— but he has to win this year.”

art’s perched against the doorframe when you turn, corded forearms crossed over his chest. you scrunch your nose, pushing back a smile that crinkles at your eyes despite your efforts.

fucking smitten.

tashi rolls her eyes, a half smile tugging at the corner of her lips, and she nudges you towards him.

“go on.”

he opens his arms in greeting and you’re quick to fall into them, your fingers knotting in the shorn hair at his nape. his chest expands beneath your own as he takes a long breath, and he presses his nose to your pulse point, shuddering.

“love you.” he murmurs into your skin.

“love you more.”

he could cry; he doesn’t remember the last time someone told him they loved him and meant it. you’re obsessed with him, almost as much as he is with you.

at his next match, you carry his rackets and send him off with a good luck kiss that has him breathless, grinning as you roll his wad of gum between your teeth that you sucked right from his waiting mouth.

he wins.

how could he not with his pretty girl watching?

and that night, he rewards you with a thorough fucking, whispered love confessions against your lips, and a breathy moan as he cums that you won’t be forgetting anytime soon.

so, yeah. maybe this life isn’t so bad, after all.

#mine #my writing! #art x reader #art donaldson #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson x you #art donaldson x female reader #art donaldson x tashi duncan #art donaldson drabble #art donaldson blurb #art donaldson fic #art donaldson fluff #art donaldson fanfiction #challengers movie #challengers #challengers fic #challengers film #challengers fanfiction #tashi duncan x reader #tashi duncan x you #art x tashi x reader #writer #writers on tumblr #writing #writing for fun #writing fanfic #smut writing #fluff writing #writing for myself #art x tashi

[r0-boat]

Hi, I love your WHB headcanons, they make me smile all the time! I don't know if I can request something, ignore this message if it's not allowed! But if you can…

Can you tell us how you think the Kings (especially Satan and Lucifer) would react to finding out their MC's birthday? Would they give you some gift or perhaps for them, immortals, birthdays are a useless celebration?

Thank you very much for all your wonderful work! And…sorry if my English is horrible

Oh my gosh celebrating your birth would be a special occasion let's see how these kings celebrate it

Whb Kings celebrating your birthday.

Sfw cut for length

Satan

The nobles celebrated together in the hall of the castle. They have a party what humans call a potluck. Where they bring their own food and snacks and their gifts.

Since demons live so long their birthdays are not as celebrated except for maybe the birth of their kings. But even then a birthday was not really a devil thing. But that didn't mean they They didn't like doing it They want to celebrate birthdays the way humans do and what better way to celebrate it with a human!

They want to do everything a human does at their birthday even the most silliest things like pinatas or pin the tail in the donkey everything anything you mentioned they will add it. But they also want to celebrate you in a devil way so you end up just getting this weird mix of demon human celebration.

The nobles and Satan are celebrating your birthday together but later Satan will give you an extra special gift ;)

Mammon

His version of parties are more relaxed with golden ballrooms fancy dresses and suits with expensive wine and catering. He will grant you anything on your birthday and for your party anything you wish. Of course unlike the other demons he will not be talked in out of making your party what you deserve. Your venue will be at a golden Mansion with hot tubs pools endless five star foods.

Anything you suggest he will pump it up to tenfold. At a park? No problem You shall have your party at a beautiful garden venue with exotic flowers plants and fruits. In a familiar place like his house? No problem He shall make it work. (Bimet with a money donation booth)

Your cake must have the least be five tiers. All five flavors and fillings as well as designed to your desire. You will be working with a five-star bakery and they will provide samples to make sure your cake is to what you desire.

"anything you want my dearest, this day is yours I will make sure your birth is celebrated as a national holiday"

Leviathan

He keeps your birthday a secret He wants to be the only one celebrating it! And he gets mad jealous if you ever tell anyone. Of course you throw a hissy fit. And Levi assures you that he'll give you enough gifts to make up for the fact only he knows.

Listen Levi may be an envious little bug but he has his limits... He knows he'd rather be celebrating the day of your conception and he realizes the special day since he never had a birthday himself nor he wanted to celebrate his birthday because of his past. He doesn't even remember what day it was.

Anything you want any wish you want to Grant for the entire day he is yours. And I guess the other Hades nobles will give you gifts as well since you made such a big stink about it.

If you ever mentioned to celebrate your birthdays together his eyes will go wide and his job will go slack. You're willing to share a special occasion with him? He just fell even deeper for you.

Beelzebub

Parties are a Abyssos specialty! your party will be a grand celebration. Wild and fun not like the parties in Tartaros we're rich people got like fancy little birds with their tiny fancy drinks and little crackers and cheeses, chirping about how rich they are. A real party!

And of course the grander the party the more strict the planning will be. Beelzebub takes these parties very seriously You can call him a party aficionado. Of course what you want also matters so he will ask Bael to keep notes because he'll probably forget. You can pick the venue pick the snacks it's starting to sound more like a wedding than just a birthday party.

It will have the most fun most lively most wild venue. Devils from across the seven kingdoms will hear about it and want to come bringing gifts to party in Abyssos. The nobles and King talking excitedly how this will be the greatest party in millenia. Will it last a day no a whole week of partying!

It will take A LOT of talking if you want your party to be anything other than the greatest celebration that Abyssos has to offer. In the end you'll just get sad pouty puppy Demons just wants to give you the best that Abyssos has to offer and parties are their specialty :(((. They will give in because it's what you want and whatever the birthday human decides.

Lucifer

Angels do not celebrate birthdays The only birthday they celebrate is either God or Jesus. So it completely slipped his mind until you mentioned it. His eyes went wide Oh yeah human celebrate their birth...

He's not one to ask for a party or anything, He brings you flowers and gives you cake and a little gift. The gift is the most expensive thing he always gets you jewelry or something you like.

Asking you out for birthday dinner is something he would probably do too. The other citizens of Paradise lost is allowed to celebrate as they please. Gamigin is not okay with this He is planning a party for you right now. Lucifer thinks it's unnecessary but he will attend anyway.

He tells his subordinate to please keep in mind that your day should be up to you. And if the young dragon is planning on anything you do not want he will be punished.

#whb lucifer #whb leviathan #whb satan #whb beelzebub #whb mammon #whb x reader #wihib #wihib x reader #whb #what in hell is bad #whb headcanons #whb sfw

[senditcolton]

hits different

do you think i have forgotten... about you?

series masterlist | playlist | word count: 9.3k a/n: here it is! the finale of the "we're a bad idea" series. it's crazy to think that this series started on a complete whim and turned into this. i had so much fun writing this for you all and screaming about it with you and... gosh, just, thank you for all your support! I hope you all love this conclusion as much as I do. warnings: feminine reader, teammate's sister, age gap. smut! heavy handsy make out, oral (f receiving), protected penetrative sex. Disclaimer: Reading/creating content for married players isn’t for everyone. Please don’t read if you don’t vibe with it, but don’t attack me or others!

It felt like something out of a goddamn movie.

The way your eyes locked onto each other the very moment you settled next to Shannon at the altar. How the scent of the flowers that Emily had chosen for your bouquet suddenly became overwhelming. The feeling of heat that rushed through you – a heat that had nothing to do with the warm July afternoon and everything to do with the blue eyes that had captured you under their gaze.

Not the mention the film reel flashback that replayed in your head of those months when you allowed him into your bed and into your heart. And how he broke you into a million pieces and sent you running to Los Angeles to escape his hold on you.

Almost two years and three-thousand miles between you and him. You thought that would be enough.

But, even after all of that, it seems that you still couldn’t forget Matt Martin.

And based on the beating echoing through your ribcage, it was obvious that your wretched heart failed to remember how much it hurt whenever he was around.

The string music dancing on the breeze lifts to a crescendo and you almost scoff at the irony; like the universe itself was trying to arrange a reunion worthy of an Oscar-winning romance. Then you heart stutters when you see Matt lift from his seat, his eyes still locked on your frame and you fear that a love confession was about to fall from his lips.

Thankfully, that doesn’t happen. Instead, he turns from you, directing his gaze down the aisle.

The embarrassment rushes through your body and you have to shake your head at your dramatics; at the way you made yourself the main character in a moment that was anything but yours.

This was Scotty and Emily’s moment – their wedding, for Christs sake. Your eyes divert to the end of the aisle, watching as your soon to be sister-in-law walk to your brother, her stunning white dress flowing behind her. You sneak a glance at Scotty, watching his eyes water as Emily takes those final steps towards him. This was the reason you were here. Not Matt Martin.

Somehow, you manage to make it through the entire ceremony without looking out to the audience and those ocean blue eyes. When you walk back up the aisle for the recessional, your arm linked in Sebastian’s, your gaze locks with Matt’s once again before he disappears from your sight.

It’s a moment of reprieve as you sneak back into the cabin where you and the rest of the bridesmaids had spent the night, a deep breath lifting your chest.

You should’ve known he would be here. He was your brother’s teammate, a fact that you were all too aware of when this tryst began. Still, you hoped you wouldn’t have to face him. Not because you hated him or because you had moved on. But because there was still a part of you that craved him, that couldn’t let him go.

There was an ache in you and it felt like only he could heal it.

How? The answer to that question was still uncertain. You didn’t know if you needed him to apologize, or give you closure, or tell you everything you’ve always wanted him say. But you weren’t ready for it, whatever it was.

And when you walk into the reception area where the guests waited, your heart proves how unprepared you were based its reaction when your eyes find Matt. And the gymnastic routine it does when you realize that he was seated at your table, only a few spaces away from you.

Dinner is excruciating. It feels like a choreographed routine as you stop your head from drifting too far to the right to look in Matt’s direction, pretending that you don’t feel the weight of his stare, laser-focused on the toasts and your brother’s first dance. And when the dance floor opens and the mingling begins, the reason you fly from your chair was to greet other guests, performing your duty as a bridesmaid.

Not because you were desperate to delay the inevitable conversation you knew you had to have with the one man you had been avoiding.

Blissfully, a familiar voice calls to you from across the space and your eyes lock onto Mat Barzal, frantically waving at you from one of the other tables. You smile, walking over to him as he rises from his chair and hugs you, your name falling from his lips with that bright cheerfulness that you heard so frequently over Facetime calls and nights out in LA when the Islanders came to California.

“How are you doing, Barzy?” you ask, pulling away from the hug.

“Pretty good,” he replies, his hand falling to the shoulder of the pretty brunette occupying the seat next to him. “Have I introduced you to Lyla yet?”

“Well, you’ve talked about her enough that I feel like I’ve met her before,” you laugh as you steal Mat’s seat from him, holding out your hand before formally introducing yourself. “Good to officially meet the girl that stole this idiot’s heart.”

“Nice to finally meet you too,” Lyla says, taking your hand in hers. “Although, I will be honest, when I first saw your name on Mat’s phone and how many Facetime calls the two of you shared, I was a little concerned. Thought you were a long-distance girlfriend or something.”

“Completely understandable,” you laugh, admiring her candor. “But there’s nothing to worry about. He’s a little too sweet for me.”

“I’m standing right here,” Mat huffs and you look up at him with a smirk.

“It’s nothing you haven’t heard before.”

Your relationship with Mat Barzal was the one thing that had shifted in the years you were away but it definitely changed for the better. He had turned from a potential romantic partner to a true friend. That shift – one that was brought on after a night of too many French Blonde cocktails – lifted a weight off both of your shoulders and opened the door for an even deeper connection with star winger.

“I hear that I have you to thank for him asking me on a date,” Lyla says.

“I did nothing but push Mat to ask for the number of the pretty girl at the gym that he spent almost a half-an-hour raving about,” you laugh, loving the way both Lyla and Mat’s cheeks flushed. “You had him whipped before he even knew your name.”

“Oh, trust me, I figured that out eventually,” Lyla jokes and you can’t help but scoot in, ready to hear all the embarrassing stories that Lyla was willing to share. And share she did. It seems like hours of laughter and conversation, Mat even dragging a chair over and joining in – although most of his comments are attempts to defend himself. Eventually, Lyla gets up to run to the ladies room, departing with a kiss on Mat’s cheek and you can’t stop the smile that appears when Mat’s eyes stay glued to her as she walks away.

“I like her,” you say, calling his attention back to you. “She’s way too good for the likes of you.”

“Oh, I know,” he laughs, taking your jest in stride before sipping his beer. You see his hazel eyes bounce across the room, pausing momentarily before they return to you. “Have you talked to him yet?”

A sigh rushes through you as you shake your head.

“I still can’t believe I told you about him.”

“You told me like… eight months ago. Besides, you can only blame yourself.”

“Hey, I can also blame copious amounts of alcohol.”

“Yeah, alcohol that loosened your tongue and sent his name falling out of your mouth,” Mat quips, his eyebrow raising. “Along with your dinner.”

“Please don’t remind me,” you say, your mind jumping back to the night in question.

It was November, when the Islanders played Los Angeles. You and Mat met up at a local bar – just the two of you and it was that night that your relationship changed completely. Because in your inebriated state, Matt Martin’s name slurred from your lips while Barzy was attempting to shove you into an Uber.

Despite facing the wrath of his coaches, Mat helped you back to your apartment and kept you company that night, his reasoning being that he wanted to make sure you were alright and a California road trip allowing him the time to do so. It was over greasy eggs and bacon that he asked why you said Marty’s name. And you told him.

You even told him about the night of the charity gala, emphasizing that you never meant to use him like that. And that the reason why you never took him up on his offer to be more than friends was because you didn’t want to use him more, keep giving him false hope.

The truth stung him for a few days but after giving him the time and space he needed, the honesty and clarity brought the two of you closer. Now, he was the only person in your life that knew the whole story of why you left Long Island. And, like the good friend he was, he kept your secret all that time.

“You know you’re going to have to speak to him at some point,” Mat prods.

“I know,” you quip, playfully rolling your eyes. “Doesn’t mean I can’t avoid him for a few more minutes.”

“You’ve been avoiding him for almost two years. Don’t know if a few minutes is going to help.”

“When did you get so wise?”

“You can thank Lyla for that,” he smiles and you watch his whole expression soften at the mere sound of her name.

“She makes you happy.”

The sentence is more statement than question. You were there on the other end of the line when he talked about the first time he saw her. You gave him pep-talks and advice on how to ask her out. You helped him plan dates and dinners. It was obvious that this girl was something special to him.

“Happier than I’ve been in a while.”

“Then why are you still sitting here talking to me?” you say. “Dance at a wedding with your girlfriend.”

“Alright, I will,” Mat laughs, standing. He doesn’t depart immediately, choosing instead to lean over to you with a serious look in hie eye. “But you have to promise me you’ll talk to Marty.”

Another sigh escapes you as you let your head turn to look at the reception hall, your eyes glancing off the crowd of guests before landing on Matt, leaning against the wall, talking to Cal and his wife. As if he can feel your eyes on him, his gaze drifts to you and you watch a myriad of emotions dance on his face, each so subtle and fleeting that you couldn’t even begin to decipher what he was thinking.

“He’s been asking about you, you know,” Mat’s voice sounds, pulling your attention back to him.

“He has?”

“Yeah. Asking me, Scotty, Emily, anyone really. How you’re doing, what you’re doing.”

“What have you told him?”

“Just surface level stuff: your job, your complaints about the weather and LA traffic, things like that. It seems like he wants to talk to you,” Mat says. “So, you should talk to him. If nothing else, you might at least get some closure.”

You exhale, you mid swirling with the information that Matt Martin was still thinking about you, maybe in the same way you were thinking about him. Your head was a mess of doubts and hopes and fears and longing and desires. You just breathe through it all, pulling Mat into another hug which he reciprocates.

“You’re a really good friend, you know that right?” you ask, your voice muffled by his tuxedo.

“So I’ve been told by this really cool Los Angeles girl who overthinks everything.”

You laugh as you let your arms fall, Mat shooting you that crooked smile before he is walking away. You see him intercept Lyla as she re-enters the reception area, taking her arm in his and pulling her to the dancefloor, the smile on her face brightening as Mat leans in and kisses her cheek.

There was a part of you that twinged at the sight. You knew it was jealousy – not the traditional jealousy but a different form. You weren’t angry that Mat found joy with someone that wasn’t you, but envious that he found someone, period.

Especially since you were unable to move on from the man you shared a scandalous but exhilarating few months with. The man you promised yourself you would forget.

But then you hear his voice sound from behind you and feel that exquisite ache that you had never been able to soothe throb in the center of your chest.

“Hey.”

You turn to see him standing behind you, his suit looking almost too perfect for his body, his hair tousled and falling over his forehead. You watch as his blue eyes rove over your face and you wonder what he’s thinking and if all the same emotions are flooding his system the way they were yours.

“Hi,” you whisper, cursing your voice for coming out sounding so timid, cursing yourself for still allowing Matt Martin to make you feel small. But instead of that cool smirk that used to always appear at the sound of your frailty, his face remains impassive, his eyes flicking down to the now vacant seat next to you.

“Could I sit?” he asks and your head spins, not only because of the gentleness of the question but the fact that he even asked at all. The Matt Martin you used to know would’ve sat down immediately, invading your space boldly and brazenly for no other reason than to get a rise out of you.

You nod, watching him settle down into the cushioned seat and take a sip from his whiskey glass, his eyes still on you. It takes an immense amount of effort to break your gaze as you reach for your own wine and letting the smooth oaked flavor dance over your tongue.

“How have you been?” Matt breaks the silence again and you know you hear a hesitance in his voice, like he is unsure if he should even be addressing you.

“I’ve been alright,” you reply, your own voice thick with trepidation. “You?”

“It’s been decent.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, and his eyebrows quirk up in curiosity at your words. “For your injury. The playoffs,” you elaborate. Your gaze stays locked on him, trying to understand the micro-expressions that pass over his face.

“Thank you,” he replies and you just nod, taking another sip of your wine. “Didn’t know if you were even watching.”

“Wanted to support my brother.”

“Right,” he sighs. “Of course.”

You hated this. Hated the weight that hung over the two of you like a lead curtain, making anything beyond small talk too difficult to say. You weren’t sure how to surmount this obstacle, not sure if it was even possible to overcome. But someone had to be brave and attempt that first step.

With a deep breath and another sip of liquid courage, you turn you attention back to Matt.

“Was there… something you wanted to ask me?” you question, the words as stilted and unclear as the intention behind them.

Matt looks at you, his blue eyes wide as he absorbs your words. It is a moment of stillness before he is finishing off his whiskey and setting the glass on the table, lifting himself out of his chair. Your heart flips in fear that you said the wrong thing, that you ruined the moment before it could even take shape but that concern is silenced when Matt stands in front of you, holding out his hand, his palm upturned.

“Dance with me?”

Of all the questions that you thought Matt Martin would confront you with, this was one that you were not prepared for. A sentiment that is echoed by a bewildered ‘what?’ falling from your lips.

“Will you dance with me?” Matt reiterates, the request turning into a genuine question. Would you let him take you out onto the dance floor and into his arms again?

Your eyes rove from his face to his hand, still outstretched. The hesitance lingers in you reflected by the way you lift your own hand, your fingers curling back in a moment of uncertainty before you allow them to touch his. They glide against his calloused skin, wrapping around his palm, his own fingers winding around your hand.

Another glance up at him shows you the slightest smile playing at his lips. But it isn’t twinged with the familiar undercurrent of cruelty or power. Instead, it looks like relief.

He gently tugs you upright before leading you to the dancefloor, the refrain of a slow melody encompassing you moments before Matt’s arms do the same. He adjusts the grip on your hand while the other finds a respectful place on the small of your back. You let your own free hand lift and rest delicately on his bicep as the two of you begin to sway.

The silence between you remains even as the music rises and falls. You still avoid looking in Matt’s eyes, content to stare at the hardwood floor even though you can feel the weight of his gaze. In the back of your mind, you knew that if your eyes locked with his, you wouldn’t be able to keep your composure.  That possibility was to be avoided at all costs. You couldn’t let Matt Martin regain the control over you that he used to have.

“You look beautiful.”

Those three muttered words, the compassion behind them, makes your resolve crumble, your eyes darting up to meet with his.

“Thank you,” you say, your voice breathless – the exact opposite of the curtness you wanted your tone to convey. But perhaps it wasn’t your choice to soften your words. Maybe it was subconscious, based on the way that Matt held you, the way he spoke to you, the way he looked at you. It felt different.

He was different.

“I missed you,” he whispers; the first real confession of the night.

“Matt,” you sigh, the cynic jumping out to protect your heart – the one that he shattered.

“I know,” he says. “I know what you’re going to say.”

“How can you?” you challenge him, the small flame of anger that you held flickering in your chest.

“You’re right. I have no idea what you were about to say. But I can make a guess.”

His words extinguish that resentment as soon as it appears, your eyebrow raising in surprise – not only towards his words but in his concession to you, he deference of power, the pendulum swinging in your favor. Your silence allows him to continue.

“I know I haven’t given you any reason to trust me,” he begins. “For you to believe anything I say is the truth. But I guess… I’m just wondering if you would give me a chance. Let me prove it to you.”

“Prove what to me?”

“How much I missed you. How much I care about you.”

He pulls your closer to him and you allow it. You let him hold you tighter until your chests press together, the smell of his all too familiar cologne flooding your senses. You swear you forget how to breathe when you feel his hand trace up your arm before resting against your jawline. The gentle press of his fingers guides you to look up at him, his thumb caressing your cheek.

“Let me prove that I was an idiot for ever letting you go.”

You can feel the tears prick the corner of your eyes and you know Matt can see them, watching as they well up on your lower lashes. His words seemed so sweet, so genuine, and you so desperately wanted to believe them. But there was still that voice in the back of your mind screaming, ‘this is what he does; he’s an expert at speaking these saccharine words but you know they’re never fulfilling.’

But here, now, he was promising to prove it to you.

The words of acceptance are dancing up your throat, hanging on the tip of your tongue and at the edge of your lips. But before you can speak them into existence, the universe silences you once again.

“Alright everyone, please clear the dance floor and let the bride and groom have one private last dance. Make your way to the front entrance and get ready to send them off in style!”

The MC’s voice booms from the speaker, pulling your attention and your body away from the gentle hold of Matt. The uncertainty and distrust take advantage of the interruption to reassert itself in your mind.

‘This was a sign,’ it said. ‘The universe is protecting you from getting your heart broken again.’

But when you look back, your eyes connecting to Matt’s once more and you still see nothing but yearning on his face, you feel your own longing surge again.

“Meet me by the fountain when this is all over?” you ask.

“I’ll be there.”

This time, you really do believe him.

You meet with the rest of the bridesmaids and hand out the silver streamers. You are blessed with an immense amount of coordination and impeccable timing as the streamers pop right as Scotty and Emily make their way through the crowd and hop in the car, already packed with their suitcases and honeymoon plane tickets. It is another few moments of clean up and meeting with the wedding coordinator before you are able to run back to the cabin where you and the other bridesmaids stayed for the past two days. You grab your overnight duffle bag, slinging it over your shoulder before making your way through the country club and out to the garden near the front entrance.

The two aspects of your personality were still at war with each other as you entered the terrace. Part of you prayed that Matt would keep his word and be there, just like he said. The other part prepared itself for the possibility that this was all just a cruel joke, an elaborate attempt for him to keep his hooks in you.

But when you walk out and see Matt standing next to the stone fountain, his profile illuminated by the garden lights, your desire once again silences the doubt in your mind.

You wanted to trust him. Sure, you might get hurt. But you could also heal.

That hope was worth the risk.

Matt hears your heels clacking against the pavement and turns to face you, his lips curling in a gentle smile at your approach.

“You’re here,” you say, breathless, as if your brain still didn’t trust that this wasn’t all a dream.

“I told you I would be,” he replies, holding out his hand to you again, another offering for you to accept or reject. This time, your hand slides easily into his, your fingers intertwining.

There is a pause, as if neither of you expected to be in this situation. Now that you were, you were both unsure what to do next. The uncertainty sinks into you, your voice breaking the silence in an attempt to continue the moment.

“I was planning on getting a room at the hotel airport,” you explain. “If you want to join me.”

You swear you see a flash of surprise cross Matt’s face at your suggestion before softening, a look of gentle exasperation painted on his features.

“Is that how you think I’m going to make it up to you?” he asks. His tone isn’t frustrated or offended. Instead, it’s curious, like he truly wonders if that’s what you thought of him. Or if that’s what you needed from him.

The ache that rushes through your body, reminiscent of the desire you always felt towards him but multiplied tenfold, gives you your answer. The months you spent denying your hunger for him, the ways you explained away the pain of losing him as something akin to withdrawal, how you used those brief moments of happiness to justify your choice to leave, keeping you handcuffed to the idea that you would be better off without him… they all melted away.

You wanted him. You’ve always wanted him.

You step forward, pressing your body close as you look into those eyes that haunted your dreams.

“It’s how I want you to,” you whisper, the response to his question cutting through the night air.

There is no clear indication on who moved first but you find it doesn’t matter when you feel the press of Matt’s lips against yours. This kiss itself is delicate, as if he was careful not to cross any line, any boundary that you wanted to place. But you had no sense of restraint.

Your desire surged forward, free from the cage that you kept it locked in. You release your grip on his hand and your duffle bag, your free hands flying up to his hair, tangling in the silky locks as your body presses impossibly closer. Matt takes your desperation in stride, his own arms wrapping around you, holding you steady. Your tongue presses against the seam of his lips, silently begging for access which he gives. A whimper escapes your throat, the taste of him on your tongue only increasing your craving. You can feel Matt’s grip tighten in response to your sounds, his fingers crumpling the silk fabric of your dress as he swallows every desperate noise that he pulls from you.

Somehow, the kisses slow until your lips are falling away from each other. Matt keeps you near, your forehead pressed against his, the warmth of his breath fanning across your cheekbones.

“Let me take you home,” he murmurs and you don’t even think twice before your head is nodding in agreement.

The car ride back to his place feels both familiar and foreign. The air between you is still thick with need but those powerful emotions are lightened by the feeling of Matt’s fingers intertwining with yours over the center console, the way his eyes dart over to you, looking at you as if he couldn’t believe this was real. You were sure that your face conveyed the same thought.

He pulls into the driveway, the porchlight gleaming like a beacon in the darkness, calling you back to him. His grip around you is firm as he walks you to the front door, escorting you across the threshold and your eyes take in the sight of a house that you felt you knew like the back of your hand. The pillows on his couch were different as was some of the art lining the walls but besides that, it looked exactly how it did the last time you were there.

You hear Matt kick off his shoes behind you and you aren’t sure if it’s habit or muscle memory that pulls you forward, your own heels tapping against the hardwood as you wander deeper, your body guiding you to the staircase. Your hand wraps around the wooden railing as you begin your ascent to the second floor. Matt is close behind you, his own steps slow and measured as he lets you guide him up the stairs and to the first door on your right.

The master bedroom is more of the same, the smallest and subtlest of changes catching your attention as you walk into the room. You can hear the small click of the door latch finding home echo and you turn to see Matt leaning against the doorframe, his eyes observing you in the low lamplight.

Your smile is all the encouragement he needs to push himself away from the door, crossing the distance stretched between you in only a few steps. His hand lifts to cup your face, your eyes locking with his before he is capturing your lips in another kiss.

In the safety and security of his bedroom, it seems as if both of your desires were unleashed with a vengeance. His hands pull you closer and your own scramble on his body, wanting to feel every inch of him, wanting to recommit his shape to memory. You are pressed against him, pushing him deeper into the room, your feet moving across the carpeted floor. He lets you manipulate him, walking backward and holding you against him as if he wanted no space to separate the two of you ever again, be it three-thousand miles or three inches.

It isn’t long until his body is falling to sit on the edge of his mattress, his thighs spreading to pull you between them. His desire to have you close is reciprocated, your body moving on its own accord. Your hand mindlessly reaches down to grip the fabric of your dress, pulling the midi hem higher to allow you to climb into his lap without hinderance, your legs straddling his waist.

Matt’s hands grip you tighter, pulling you close, the movement of his lips against yours never ceasing. Your own hands return to tangle in his hair, the taste of him more intoxicating than all the bottles and glasses of alcohol that you drank trying to forget him.

If possible, your desire ratchets up another level and your hands fall from his hair, tugging off his suit jacket. You blindly reach for his tie, undoing the knot as Matt’s hands wander all over your body, grabbing your ass, pulling your hips down to meet his. A moan rumbles from your chest as you feel the hardness of him pressed against you, your lips falling from Matt’s. He doesn’t seem affected, his own lips moving to kiss your neck, his hands still tracing your curves.

You are blind with lust as Matt’s head dips across your collarbones and the top of your decolletage and you let your instincts guide you, your fingers finding the buttons of his dress shirt. Each clasp is unfastened deftly and as soon as the shirt falls open, your hands sneak underneath the fabric, pressing against Matt’s warm skin. You can feel the strength of his chest, the movement of his muscles, and the pounding of his heart underneath your palms as they glide up, pushing the material off his broad shoulders. Matt’s hands only depart from your body momentarily to rid the shirt from his frame completely before he is pulling your lips to his again.

Your hands drift back down to his abdomen and you can feel his muscles clench in response to your gentle touch. It’s another generous roll of your hips against his before your fingertips find the button and zipper of his slacks. You blindly undo them just enough that you can slip your hand beneath both the waistband of his pants and boxer briefs.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Matt groans against your skin as your hand wraps around his length. Another rush of heat flows through your body at hearing the familiar pet-name fall from his lips. Your own lips twist in a smile as you give him a few languid strokes, relishing in the way his moans vibrate against your skin – the way he weakens for you.

The need to make him unravel more takes over as you begin to pull away from him, your body scooting back in order to dismount and fall to your knees in front of him. But before you could even drop a single foot onto the carpeted floor, Matt’s hands hold you firm, halting your motions.

“No,” he whispers, pulling you back to him. “Not tonight.”

You stare at him, your eagerness to have him in your mouth mixing with the confusion of why he was preventing you from doing just that. The immediate response he gives you is another kiss, his hand returning to rest against your jaw. When he does pull away, you hear his sultry timbre echo around the room.

“I should be the one on my knees worshipping you, not the other way around.” 

His declaration burns through you, igniting a need that had been left untapped for years.

You were used to submitting to Matt Martin. You thought that you loved it. But now, here he was ready to bow to you and your desires and your will. That thought alone made a fire pool in your lower stomach, your lips pressing against his again.

His hands tighten against your skin, securing his grip on you as he lifts himself from the bed with you in his arms. The sensation of the smooth sheets pressing against your back is almost instantaneous, Matt’s lips falling from yours to retrace their previous pathway along your jaw, down the column of your throat and across your collarbones. You are about to lift yourself upright to pull the material of your dress away from your frame but Matt’s arms keep you pinned against the mattress. Instead, his hand simply tugs the fabric up, painstakingly exposing more of your skin to the cool air until the silk is bunched around your waist.

You feel Matt’s smile against your skin as his lips continue their descent, kisses placed against your stomach before he presses a whisper of one right above the edge of your panties.

“So fucking beautiful,” he whispers, his eyes darting up to look at you.

The only sound that your voice can manage is a whine but it’s enough for Matt, his elegant fingers hooking and twisting around your waistband. Your head falls back as you lift your hips to help him pull the soft cotton away. He tugs the material down your legs at a painstaking pace, lifting your feet to unhook the elastic from around your ankles.

You expect – no, you need him to return to the apex of your thighs. But you soon realize how much Matt meant it when he said he planned on worshipping you.

His hands guide your feet to rest on his muscular thighs as his finger unbuckle your shoe, sliding it off before repeating the action on the other side. He lifts your leg, your bare heel now resting on the back of his shoulder and you sigh when you feel his lips press against your calf. They linger as he makes his way back up your frame, a kiss pressed on your shin, your knee, your inner thigh.

It feels like reverence. It feels like devotion – to you, to the way you make him feel.

Your hand reaches down, tangling in his hair and gently tugging him closer to the place you needed him most. Matt lets you guide him and, after he brings both of your legs to rest on his shoulders, his arm wrapping around your waist, pinning your hips to the bed, he finally – finally – presses his mouth against your core.

A relieved sigh escapes your chest as Matt’s lips move, his tongue darting out to trace your folds. Your sighs turn to whimpers to moans as he continues his ministrations, remembering all the things that make your breathing hitch, your thighs shake. Remembering all the ways you come undone.

“Still so sweet,” he murmurs. “Still so desperate for me.”

He resumes his movements, winding you up in the most deliberate way. Your free hand twists into the sheets as he drags you closer to the edge, his tongue diving into your cunt before lifting to flick against your clit, the action causing your hips to jolt from beneath his strong arm. You swear that you are about to rip his sheets based on how tight you are holding them.

You’re too strung out to see Matt’s eyes lift, him noticing the death grip you have on the soft cotton covering the mattress. In your haze, you can feel the grip he has on your thigh loosen and depart but your mind doesn’t understand the reason until you feel his hand dancing across your fingers twisted in the sheets, silently coaxing you to release the fabric. You do and as soon as there is space, his fingers filling the gaps between yours, holding your hand tightly as his mouth continues to work its sinful magic against you.

Your orgasm hits you unexpectedly, your back arching off the bed as the tidal wave of pleasure crashes through your body, radiating from your stomach down to the tips of each limb. Your hand tightens around his so firmly that you believe you must be cutting off circulation. But Matt doesn’t seem to mind, squeezing your hand tighter in response. He moans against your core in response to the taste of your release flooding his tongue, the vibration sending another round of shudders down your spine.

The feeling of Matt’s mouth and hands leaving you ignites a new wave of desperation, one that is only partially satiated when he returns to hover over you, kissing you deeply. You moan into his mouth when you taste the tang of your own essence still coating his tongue.

“I can’t believe I forgot how good you were at that,” you exhale when your lips fall from his.

“I don’t think I’ll ever forget how gorgeous you look when you cum,” he murmurs, his head dipping down to your neck, his quiet assertation making you smile.

You let him press his lips against your throat, content to lay beneath him for the moment. But when you feel his hips roll against yours, his own hunger for you and your body not yet satisfied, another ache of need hits you. You pull his head back up to your face, capturing his lips in another feverish kiss.

Matt’s body hovers mere centimeters above yours, his hips pressed against you. The position makes it easy for you to hook your leg around him. Using what strength you had, you somehow manage to flip the two of you around, Matt’s back crashing onto the bed, your body now suspended above him.

You break the kiss, lifting yourself upright with a grin on your face as your hands trace over the ridges of his chest. His own hands dance up your thighs, sneaking beneath the hem of your dress to caress the soft skin around your hipbones. In the span of a breath, your fingers bunch the silken material of your gown, gathering it in your hands before you pull the fabric over your head.

The gentle sharp inhale of Matt’s breath as your body becomes entirely exposed to him is music to your ears. There is no stopping his hands as they continue to drift up your body, gliding over the curves of your hips and waist, dancing across your ribcage before coming to cup your breasts. He caresses the sensitive skin, his thumbs reaching to brush against your nipples causing your head to fall back, a soft plea for him to continue falling from your mouth. He listens, his fingers roving across your body, as if there was not an inch of skin that he wanted to leave untouched.

“Such a gorgeous perfect body,” he mutters, making the pool of desire within you fill again.

You lift your hips up only so far as to reach behind you, tugging at the fabric of his slacks and boxer briefs; a silent request. His hands fall from your body to pull the material down his legs and you feel him kick off the only remaining barriers between your bodies. You lean forward as you kiss him again, your hips sinking back down. A simultaneous moan escapes both of you as you grind against him, your arousal coating the soft skin of his shaft.

There is want and then there is pure unadulterated need and the latter is what takes a hold of you now. Your lips fall from his as you stretch your body forward, your arm reaching for the nightstand drawer, the place he used to – and now you hope still does – keep his condoms. Your progress is halted briefly by Matt’s head lifting to wrap his lips around your nipples, the action making another gasp sound your throat. You persevere, albeit somewhat distracted because of Matt’s ministrations, pulling open the drawer, relieved to see the box in the same place, thankful that not everything had changed.

But as you reach for one of the square packets, your eyes land on a stack of envelopes pushed against the other side and you swear you see your name scrawled across the white paper. You don’t have any time to linger on them as you feel Matt’s teeth gently nip at your skin, pulling your attention back to him.

“Please, darling, hurry up,” he implores, dark blue eyes looking up to you. “Need to get inside you.”

Who were you to deny him?

Your fingers grasp the foil, your body returning to its upright position above him. You rip open the packet, pulling the rubber from the confines and preparing it before you reach behind you, taking Matt in your hand. He throws his head back, his hair haloing around his face as you give him a few languid strokes before sliding the condom on.

There is no waiting, no more hesitation as you lift your hips up. Your free hand presses against the center of his chest for balance as you guide him to your entrance. You aren’t sure if it’s him or yourself you’re teasing when you slide the tip of him against your folds once, twice before you align yourself to him.

Your mouth falls open in a silent moan as you sink down, the stretch of him entering you delectably foreign and yet comfortingly familiar. Matt has a similar reaction to the sensation of your walls wrapping around him, his hands flying up to your hips, his grip tightening around you so much so that you swear you’re going to have bruises in the shape of his fingerprints the next morning.

“Fuck, darling,” he growls as your hips meet his, him bottoming out inside of you. “Still feel like fucking heaven around me.”

Your only response is a whimper as your eyes flutter shut, both of your hands now resting on his chest, using him for leverage as you begin to move. Matt guides the motion of your hips, helping you bounce on top of him, letting you grind against him, more sharp gasps falling from your lips as your clit rubs against the taut skin of his lower stomach.

“That’s it sweetheart,” he praises, fingers brushing against your skin as you ride him. “Take what you want from me. It’s yours to have.”

You whine, grinding your hips even deeper onto him, one of your hands lifting to tease your nipples. You missed this, the feeling of Matt hitting spots so deep in you, spots that no one else had been able to find before and since.

“God, I missed this,” Matt groans, echoing your thoughts, his eyes devouring your body. “Missed you.”

His words force you to open your eyelids and when your eyes lock, you almost cum simply from the way he is staring at you: like you were the most beautiful piece of artwork, like you were sculpted from the purest marble, crafted from the finest paints. Like you deserved to be hung in the Louvre.

“Matt,” you whine, his name falling from your lips in a plea as your movements falter against him.

“What is it, sweetheart?” he asks, his own voice strained and earnest. “What do you need?”

“Need you to fuck me.”

“Yeah?” he questions. But unlike the times before, he’s not asking in order to tease you, to be cruel, or to force you to beg him for a mere sliver of his attention. He is asking because he wants to hear you say it – wants to hear you confess that you’ve missed him and that you’ve been wanting him as much as he has been wanting you.

“Please,” you reply. “Please, I need it. I need you.”

Your words aren’t twinged with contempt, nor are they wretched from your mouth unwillingly. They fall from your lips because you mean them, because you want to beg for him – not the other way around.

A gasp is torn from your chest as Matt lifts himself up, his chest pressing against yours. His hands trace your spine, one burrowing into the hair at the nape of your neck, the other resting heavy on the small of your back. He pulls you to him, kissing you again and swallowing every noise that falls from your lips as he drags your hips into his.

You weren’t sure if it was because you were wound too tight or that you truly couldn’t comprehend what was happening because before you knew it, Matt had spun you around, flipping you once again so you were the one laying against the sheets. Your legs instinctively wrap around his hips and before you can moan at the feeling of him thrusting into you, your sounds are muffled by his lips again.

Matt eventually breaks away, one arm reaching back to grip your thigh, pulling one leg higher, the new angle causing every stroke of him to brush against that damnable spot that made you see stars. You cry out, your head collapsing against the bed, Matt’s name falling from your lips.

“Fuck, I missed this,” Matt mutters, keeping his steady pace as he watches your body respond to his movements. “Missed how beautiful you look underneath me. Missed this perfect fucking pussy. Fucking taking all of me like it’s made for me.”

His possessiveness makes you whimper, the high-pitched sound catching his ear.

“That right, baby?” he asks. “This cunt still mine, even after all this time?”

“Yes,” comes your reply, wrapped in a strangled moan. “I’m all yours. I’m still yours,” you gasp out, your hips desperately chasing his.

“And I’m all yours,” Matt replies, his head dropping down to kiss you again. “Let it out, sweetheart. Let me hear you.”

He doesn’t speed up, content to keep his languid pace, steadily driving you towards that cliff. The noises that escape you are incoherent, a jumbled mess of curses and pleas as your walls flutter desperately around him. It feels like the most deliberate and exquisite torture, a pleasure that you would welcome time and time again if he would let you.

“Come on, darling,” you hear Matt’s voice whisper in your ear. “Remind me how good it feels when that beautiful cunt cums around me.”

It is the quiet demand that has you falling off the edge, your muscles stiffening as your orgasm hits you. You can hear a faint growl rumble from Matt, murmured praise being spoken into your skin like a prayer as he fucks you through it, your legs trembling as they fall from him.

Matt’s movements finally increase in speed as he chases own climax, each move of his hips making you whimper. You tug his head to you, kissing him fiercely and swallowing his groans as he stills and you bask in the sensation of his cock pulsing inside of you.

Your labored breaths mingle as you stay wrapped up together, sweat drenched foreheads pressed against each other as you both collect yourself. Matt’s hand, the one that that had been gripping your thigh, lifts to brush your hair away from your forehead as his eyes appraise you. You can’t stop the way your eyes close as he leans in, kissing you once again, his tongue dipping into your open mouth and you whine as you feel him slowly pull out of you.

He places a gentle chaste kiss against your lips before lifting himself off you, walking around the bed. Your eyes track his movements, watching as he stops at the nightstand, the top drawer still open. There is a flicker of some emotion that crosses his face before he pushes the drawer closed before disappearing into the ensuite bathroom. You hear the water running before he returns, a warm damp washcloth in one hand and a t-shirt in the other.

Matt gently presses the washcloth against your skin, starting at your forehead and temples before descending until he reached the apex of your thighs, brushing away the lingering wetness of your release from your skin. He throws the towel into the hamper and holds out his hand, which you take. You let him lift your torso off the sheets as he hands you the t-shirt. He holds you steady while you slip the soft cotton over your head, the worn Maple Leaf emblem resting on your upper chest almost completely faded.

You collapse back against the sheets as Matt pulls on a pair of boxers before climbing next to you. His arms wrap around your body as he settles behind you, pulling your back close to his chest. Your own fingers lift to absentmindedly play with his as reality crashes back over you.

You aren’t sure what to say, if there even is anything to be said. You don’t want to ruin the golden halo of peace that surrounds the two of you but you knew you couldn’t just leave it like this. There were still too many questions unanswered, still too much uncertainty.

“What are you thinking about?” you hear Matt’s husky voice whisper from behind you. You sigh, wiggling in his grasp. He loosens his hold enough for you to spin and face him, his blue eyes soft as they take in the sight of you in his bed.

“A lot of things,” you answer, the response vague enough to let him decide whether to press on or to leave it at that. He decides to do the former.

“Like what?”

Your eyes lift to think, picturing the mess of thoughts in your head as you attempt to untangle each. The loose threads seem innumerable, too many to choose which was the most important to tug and which could be saved for a later moment. So, you just latch onto the first image that appears in your mind.

“Could I ask you a question?” you say, eyes connecting back to him.

“Of course.”

“When I was in your nightstand earlier,” you begin, carefully observing even the tiniest reactions that tug at Matt’s expression. “I saw a stack of envelopes and it looked like they had my name on them. What are they?”

There is a myriad of emotions that dance across Matt’s face, each more fleeting than the last before his features settle to what looks to you to be apathy or resignation. You feel your heart panic as his body turns away from, fearing that you spoke the wrong words – said the wrong thing. But it quiets when you watch him pull open the nightstand drawer, his hand reaching in. Your eyes follow his movements as he pulls out the stack of envelopes before spinning back to you.

“They’re for you,” he says, holding them out towards you. You take them from his hands, the bundle held tight by a rubber band. Your fingers flip through each of them, finding your name written on every single one. Your eyes dart from the paper back to him and you swear you see his cheeks tinge a lightish pink.

“My therapist suggested that I write you letters.”

“Your therapist?”

“Yeah. I started seeing him shortly after you left,” he explains, his hand reaching behind to awkwardly scratch at the nape of his neck. “Realized that there was a lot I needed to work on.”

“Why didn’t you send them?”

“I didn’t know your new address,” he tells you, the candor in his voice strengthening as he continues. “And I was too proud to ask. Besides, I wasn’t sure if you even wanted to hear from me. Thought you might throw them away if I did send them.”

You don’t respond, neither confirming or denying his assumption because in that moment, you weren’t certain what you would’ve done if a letter from him had appeared in your mailbox.

“What’s in them?” you ask, choosing to revert to a safer statement.

“Things I wanted to say to you. Things I never said to you when you needed to hear them. Everything I wanted to tell you but never got the chance to.”

There is a silence as you take in his declaration, your curiosity piquing as your fingers trace the edges of the envelopes. There is a desire to read them but also a fear, unsure if the contents would contain blame or apologies or gaslighting or regret.

“You don’t have to read them now,” Matt speaks again, his voice drawing your attention back to him.  “You don’t have to read them at all if you don’t want to. They’re yours to do whatever you please.”  

Something inside you tells you that it’s dangerous; that it’s a bad idea to open them. To trace over the words and strong emotions that forced him to put pen to paper. To allow Matt Martin back into the heart that you’ve spent years repairing. But when you feel his hand trace down the side of your face, his fingers twirling a strand of your hair, you realize that that line had already been blurred beyond recognition.

You didn’t know what a bad idea was when Matt was around. You had already done so many things that you shouldn’t have with him. What was one more bad idea compared to the thousands you acted on before?

What was this bad idea in comparison to one that brought you to Matt Martin’s bed in the first place?

Your mind swirls with all the drastic changes you had experienced in such a short amount of time. How different the world felt right now versus a few hours ago. How different the man sitting next to you was from the man you left in a Long Island bar two years ago. You felt as if you lived twenty lifetimes since you woke up. The past, the present, and every possible future tangled together in your mind, an amalgamation of all that had happened and all that could happen.

But you didn’t want to think about that right now. All you wanted to do was sink into Matt Martin’s arms and hold him close.

So, that’s exactly what you did.

You gently turn away from Matt, reaching up to place the stack of envelopes on top of the neighboring nightstand. There was still uncertainty whether you would read them, but the action of keeping them meant that you would consider it. And when you face Matt again, it seems that – for him – that was enough. This time, it is you who reaches out to intertwine your hand with his, scooting closer to him. He follows your lead, his body sinking into the mattress until you are pressed together, side by side. Your head comes to rest on chest, your eyes closing, the sound of his strong heartbeat echoing in your ear.

Right before sleep overtakes you, you manage to whisper to him the truth that your heart sang out, the sentence that you realized you couldn’t deny even after months of trying to do just that.

“I missed you too.”

The last thing you register is a soft kiss pressed onto the crown of your head, and encompassed in Matt’s warm embrace, you let the feeling of peace wash over you.

… but it’s gonna be alright. I did my time…

a/n 2.0: I did decide to leave it a little open ended because i just liked the feeling of it better. but if you want to know how what i think happens after this, i will direct you to this mashup

tagging the babes who made writing this so rewarding: @texanstarslove @comphy-and-cozy @smileysvech @laurenairay @dissonannce @cowboybarzy @cellythefloshie @provokedgoalie @m00nlightdelights @tkachvkmatthew @cixrosie @alwaysclassyeagle @geospatialharmony

#nicole writes #matt martin fic #matt martin imagine #matt martin smut #new york islanders fic #new york islanders imagine #nhl fic #nhl imagine #hockey fic #hockey imagine

[elliotsblunt]

Girl in New York | FINAL PART

pairings - art donaldson/reader | challengers au!

"__"= Y/N

masterlist | last chapter

sypnosis - Art gives you an ultimatum.

warnings - none, angst

authors note — this is the last part!!! i hope everyone enjoyed this short fic. it was a fun journey to write a complex character such as this one. enjoy the last chapter and stay tuned for my other works in the future! (NOT PROOFREAD)

word count - 1.5k

© elliotsblunt 2024. do not repost, modify, or

You didn’t get to see your friend June before her game, so you took a seat in the front row and anxiously waited for her match. It hadn’t been your first time at a tennis event, and you very much enjoyed the sport. But the only reason you felt a strain of dread building within you was because of who else was playing today. But you tried your best not to think about it—you were sure Art had already played. Well….

…..you had hoped.

It was considerably sunny outside. The sun shined without mercy onto your slightly damp skin. Sunglasses perched on your nose, you took a sip of water to cool your nerves and throat.

And then a voice ran throughout the court on a microphone announcing the first set. A very thin man who was so pale you he was translucent walked into view. He must’ve been the one to go against your friend. You didn’t like to judge books by their covers, but considering he tripped while walking onto the court—you didn’t worry to much for June.

Speaking of her, she made her way onto her side of the court, wearing a cute lavender two-piece skirt set. You noted to ask her where she got it from before the game started. Her eyes briefly swelled the crowd before landing on you. You held your hand up and smile, in which she returned the gesture before beginning the game.

Her strokes were exquisite. You had suddenly remembered how talented she truly was. Apparently teaching academies for professional Tennis teams reach out to her to train the newbies—and that Puma uses her as one of their sponsors.

It was a quick game. After about thirty minutes, you had assumed correctly. She didn’t only beat him, but kicked his ass.

It was now the next set’s turn. June jogged off the court, smile beaming, as she wiped her sweaty sunkissed skin with her own white tiny towel. “Oh my god, _ _!” She pulls you into a sudden hug as you stand up. “I’m soooooo glad you made it. There’s this guy I wanted you to meet. He’s like, god level. I think he’s playing right now.”

You laugh, wind blowing your hair out your face. “I’d love to—but I doubt he’s better than you. I mean…you totally killed it out there for sure.”

June had pretty brown eyes, almost as if she was a bunny or baby deer. Very soft and youthful looking. She was really popular with the guys when you two trained together, even the instructor himself. You wouldn’t doubt the guy you’re about to watch flirted with her already. At your compliment, she grabbed your hands whilst her smile grew even bigger if possible. “I’ve missed you so much. We should def hang together more often! Once again, you don’t understand how much it means to me that you came.”

You smiled at June before the match begun. The announcer had already introduced the players whilst June and you were talking—so when your eyes fell upon a certain blonde…

…..you didn’t know if you could do it anymore.

It was him. The person June had personally wanted you to meet—who was amazing at Tennis. It was Art.

“I’m sorry.”

Your hearing was muffled, as the blonde boy walked solemnly onto the court. Your fists balled at your sides, standing up onto your feet, June looking up at you with a confused expression. It seemed impossible to look at him for another second—so as you tore your eyes away from him, Art spotted you in the crowd since you were stationed close to the front.

Before turning to walk away, you glanced at him again. His eyes were already trained onto you, his lips slightly parting as the wind kissed his hairs. Your throat grew dry. Why did you feel so betrayed? Damn him. He was a parasite that had burrowed into your brain, and had completely taken over your senses and thoughts.

He felt so far.

So far.

You couldn’t believe he had bad mouthed you.

You turned to walk away, muttering to June you were going to the bathroom. But in reality—you were going to go home and end up calling her telling her you threw up or something. You don’t know, all you knew is that you had to get away from there. From that stupid building with that stupid fucking man.

As you’re about to exit the hallway, and make it to the front entrance, a hand wraps around you and yanks you back. You gasp, hitting a rough chest, locking eyes with the devil himself. Shock hit you like a freight chain. “Art…you’re supposed to be playing.”

Subtly glancing down at his hands, you noticed bloody nail marks indented into his palms. Something twitched in your heart as Art released a shaky breath. Dropping your wrist, his chest heaves. “I’m sorry, _ _. I’m sorry for being a fucking idiot. You’re more….important than a match. Please just—meet me at our place tonight. If you wanna give us a chance…and if you don’t…then I’ll get the hint.”

His words were frantic and incredibly vulnerable. He looked completely hopeless. Biting on his lip, he watched as you gulped before slowly nodding. His nostrils flared before you turned around and walking away, Art’s words sinking into your brain.

“You’re more important than a match.”

It was growing closer to nightfall. You sat by your window in your bedroom, blowing another life of your cigarette out the window.

June hadn’t been mad about you taking off. She said she understood and actually wanted to get together soon again. You agreed with the idea and thankfully saved your friendship. But as bad as it sounds, you didn’t even fret about the situation with June today. Your mind was consumed about Art’s offer.

“If you wanna give us a chance…”

Didn’t he have a girlfriend?

Did they break up?

Did Art…break up with Tiffany…for you?

Because of the things she said?

Your heat pounded in your chest. Deciding to call up Pat, you dialed his number before hearing the line ring. In a few moments, it picked up. “Hey bitch. Bad time—I’m eating toaster strudels right now.”

He earned an irritated eye roll from you. But he couldn’t see it, so instead, you scoffed. “Food over your cousin? Fat ass. And no…I need advice.”

You heard him laugh on the other line, snickering before random shit cluttered on the other line. It sounded like he was re-adjusting before his voice popped out again.

“Okay okay. What happened?”

Jesus. What didn’t happen?

You picked at your nails anxiously. “There’s this guy I’ve been hooking up with—“

“Art? Oh—honey that’s old news.”

Your eyes bulged, “What? How?”

“Because he basically drooled whenever he looked at you. I also caught him getting hard and checking out your ass literally every thirty minutes.”

Your face twisted, the sound of it being nice but not from your cousin. “Gross. But yeah…he asked me to meetup with him tonight.”

“What about Tiffany?”

You shrugged, but realized he couldn’t see you.

“I dunno. He didn’t mention her.”

He hummed on the other side. “I think you should do what feels right. If you like him, then yeah.”

It was odd. When he mentioned you liking him, you didn’t shudder in disgust as usual. Instead, something warmed up in your chest and made your cheeks bloom.

“And if you ask me, I think you do. But I know you don’t do relationships so.”

And then you make a decision. Just from that sentence.

“Pat. I gotta go. Thanks. Love you.”

“Loveuwyou.” His voice was muffled, sounding like he had been chewing. The phone line clicked as you hurriedly grabbed your keys and leave your house. It was peculiar how excited you were, hastening your pace and already on your way to the tennis court.

The night was calm. Clouds were clear from sight, the full moon shining brightly in the dark sky. Your fingertips drummed on your steering wheel as you made sharp left and right turns, humming lightly to the random tune on the radio. Your mind flashed with images of the first time Art and you had kissed. It was when it had been raining, the image of him soaked with wet hair covering his eyes making your throat hitch.

And as if on cue, drops began to hit the surface of your windshield. A shocked laugh escapes you, shaking your head. You hoped he showed up.

Slamming your car door shut, only wearing some sweats and a long sleeve. Your hair instantly got drenched as rain soaked the strands on your head. It felt as if cold needles kissed your flesh. Wiping the water away from your eyes, you jogged to the spot.

"I hate how you make me feel. You're like a parasite for fucks sake-“

"Fucking dreamed about this," he groaned, watching you cry out as his teeth pierce the flesh of your nipple. Something flashed in his eyes at the sound-grabbing your throat with his hand and looking you dead in the eyes.

"Get in the fucking backseat now."

"Art-"

"Fucking mine," he growled out, your other hand gripping onto his chest. His hips stuttered as you began to twist your wrist towards tip of his cock.

His words were a fire in your brain, and with every gas filled thought, it continued to cascade as you grew closer to him. You weren’t cold at all, the adrenaline keeping you warm as you finally make it. As you walked up, you saw him….

….standing there under the rain…..

….looking at you.

You did something that shocked the both of you.

You smiled.

THE END .

#art donaldson blurbs #art donaldson imagines #art donaldson smut #art donaldson #smut #patrick zweig challengers #challengers fic #challengers smut #challengers fanfic #challengers #mike faist fic #mike faist fanfic #mike faist imagines #mike faist smut #mike faist imagine #mike faist

[hey-i-am-trying]

All my Empanada's arts

It has been a long journey. And I wanted to my homage to Empanada, what a good little egg. I also drew her a lot until I reached this design, which I think is my favorite one for her. So hey, why don't hop on my memories for a second and take a look in all my Empanada fanarts?

You never forget the first one. I drew this on the same day we all met Empanda, our little pancake baby.

This one I was trying out with her hair, but the core concept was creating three outfits based on her moms styles. At this point she only had met Bagi, Niki and Mouse, so only made those three.

Baby first heart break </3 God, I still remembering feeling sad and angry with her death.

This one a bit less sad. I was trying out some new brushes and wanted to draw a quick breakfeast trio art. They are a sunset pallette <3

The day Em met Baghera! I thought their interaction was so cute and deep at the same time. Thought Empanada would recruit Baghera to the mom village, even if not as HER mom.

Fun fact, I started this art before the 100 days birthday stream, I only ajusted a bit after seeing our cute girl outfit

This one was for ccBagi's birthday! It took some work, not gonna lie, but so satisfying to make, Empanada's and Richas' curls were so fun to do <3

Not the final art, but the final design. The pancake ear protectos are my favorite for sure.

This one is still a WIP but I will force myself to finish, not metter how many times I cry!

And the last one, at least for now. The Sonnet of Fidelity is one of the most famous brazilian poems, that because the last line has become a almost popular saying in our country usually actully being "bastardized" to: Love, be eternal as long as it lasts.

And that was QSMP and all the little eggos for me, but Em had a little special place in my heart. Always said her and Richas were my children too kkkk Thank you, CherryBee, for giving life to such amazing girl, an unapologetic girlie girl that would wack people with her frying pan, that loved flowers and sweets, that loved her moms, siblings and tios. She wanted to protected everyone, she wanted to be loved, she wanted to live a long life. She was insecure, scared, protective, kind, smart and so much braver than she though she was.

We never got to say goodbye to her.

The littlest girl ever. So pitica.

Obrigada, Cherry.

Adeus, Em. Muito te amo.

#qsmp #qsmp empanada #obrigada cherrybee #qsmp fanarts

[toobusybeingdelulu]

no because why do I have the feeling that the night at the Byers’ house steve needed that fight more than billy? think about it. When seeing Steve on the porch he immediately relaxes (leaning against the car, lighted cigarette, hand on the belt) while Steve is more closed off and tense (arms crossed etc).

Steve knew that that encounter would have ended in blood one way or another, while I don’t think that Billy did: he was just there to pick up his sister. His night had already been ruined. Not even a fight could fix it. And also he had to hurry up because Neil was waiting for him, and last but not least… I don’t think he had wanted to fight steve in the first place, despite what everyone may think. I’ve always had the impression that, in canon, he wanted to get to know him in a non-antagonistic way, but didn’t know how to properly… do that, you know? So yeah, a bit of advice on the basketball court, with just enough pushing to not give Steve the idea that he was some sort of pussy (after all, we‘ve seen how he was raised), then some compliments under the shower and a little bit of encouragement (‘don’t sweat it Harrington’ ‘today is just not your day man’ + side eye at Tommy when he teased him about Nancy + ‘don’t take it too hard man, a pretty boy like you has got nothing to worry about.’) and he probably thought that maybe he was doing a good job at it?

Well. Steve did not think so. How can we blame him tho? Let’s remember that Steve is in a hurricane of emotions in season 2: he just lost his spot as king of the crowds, his shot at a normal life and his girlfriend. And then there is this new boy (who is going through just as much of a change) who cannot stop being in his space, and being mean, and pushing him around, and how could he believe that he was being friendly? Of course he is gonna think that dude’s just being a dick for the sake of making his life hell, for some reason. Even the compliments he threw his way may sound as mocking for someone who had been told to his face by his girlfriend that he was nothing but bullshit.

So.. yeah. It’s safe to say that these two idiots did not understand each other, so a fight had been inevitable. And of course it was started by Steve. Because he is the one that had a different perception of Billy’s behaviors towards him than billy himself: maybe he thought that he would have fought him even if he had told him the truth. Or some reasonable lie. Either way, it would have been inevitable. but least he could have a little fun before the first punch, ergo the “were you dropped too much as a child or what?” Because what the duffers and even his fans don’t understand about Steve Harrington’s character is that he is still a former mean girl. No matter how hard they try to uwufying him. Did he change since s1? Sure. But that doesn’t mean he can’t be bitter. That he can’t be awful sometimes. And selfish. But that is fine!! Because that’s what made him interesting in the first place. And the night at the Byers’ had been one of those times. Did billy get out of line with his violence once started? Sure. But Steve threw the first punch. And he needed that fight, because unlike the monster in the fridge, THAT was something familiar. THAT was something normal teenagers did.

and the thing that makes this dynamic even more interesting? Is that Billy loved this side of Steve (“looks like you got some fire in you after all huh? I’ve been waiting to meet this king Steve everyone is telling me so much about”) Because, once again, it was something that he recognized.

In the end, they were both scared kids trying to find a bit of normalcy in each other’s blood in order to escape their respective monsters.

#billy hargrove #stranger things #dacre montgomery #steve harrington #harringrove #joe keery #stranger things analysis #stranger things meta #stranger things 2

[darkbluekies]

The origin of the ocs

Silas Achilleos:

I have always loved to write and read mafia fics. I wrote them before I wrote fanfiction, during fanfiction and now. When I created this account, I wanted a mafia man who's main characteristic was that he was kinky. I didn't like the ones I had read about that bent their partner over their lap for every little thing and that their entire relationship was built on sex. I wanted someone that felt human. So i made him in November 2022.

Silas name comes from a store I used to walk by all the time. I have no recollection of knowing about the name before I saw that store, so unconsiously the name must have come from there. I liked it because it was a name I hadn't been familiar with and I could "mold" the name to whatever I wanted, i had no connection to a certain person. I could make my own. His surname, Achilleos, was chosen because it reminded me of the character "achilles" and how he was untouchable besides one part of his body. Like this, i wanted darling to be Silas "achilles heel".

Silas personality comes from my want of something different. I wanted some humor, some drama, some weak spot. I made him childish, hypocritical, emotional. I didn't want him to be 2d.

Dr Karl Kry:

I have always loved the atmosphere of hospitals. I don't know why. They almost give me "backroom" vibes. I thought that it could be interesting to try to write about a doctor even though I have no medical knowledge. I have always loved to write characters that are weak and dependent on someone, which would work perfectly if I created a doctor. I created him in December 2022.

Dr Karl Kry's name comes from swedish. "Karl" means "man" and "Kry" means the opposite of being sick (not sure if english has the exact word). I thought that it could be fun if a doctor had that surname because only swedes/nordics would be able to get that little joke.

His personality is a bit of a mixture between the sterotypical swede and an opposite to what you think a doctor should be like. He's cold, quiet, doesn't like touch and is very modest while still being very professional and "sweet". He is quite old fashioned and carries traits that were normal then.

King Edmund of Vesanus

He wasn't supposed to be a character. I had gotten inspired to write the "Masquarade massacre/dance with death" oneshot because of a music video i used to watch when i was a kid (Eric Saade: Masquarade) and i wrote the oneshot in January 2023. It quickly became my most liked story so I decided to add him to the characters.

Edmund's name was originally Edward, but I have a character in one of my private novels with the same name and I thought that it would be weird for me if I named them the same thing. I decided to use a similar name and I decided upon Edmund. It sounded like it could belong to a royal. His kingdom "Vesanus" is in latin and means "mad/insane/frenzied" and I thoght that fit him extremely well.

His personality comes from the stereotypical spoiled king imagine, but I also wanted to make him ... human? He is a teenage boy who doesn't know who he is and only knows that he is the crown. He is lost and I think that shows. Edmund is ignorant, spoiled, rude and yet teasing, humorous, childish and caring.

Jerry (Yubin) Kim:

My first girl. She was created as a side character in a kpop mafia fanfiction i wrote back in 2020 and then reaccured in another kpop mafia fanfiction i wrote in 2021, although she was not a yandere back then. I loved her character and knew that I had to add her here.

Her name is special, to me. I don't remember why I named her Jerry, all I know is that I wanted a male name for a girl, and Jerry is a boy name that also feel like a girls name. That is the name she goes by, but her birth name is Yubin, although she doesn't go by that anymore. Her surname is a popular surname in korean, so that doesn't have much behind it.

Her personality is a rollercoaster. When I created her back in 2020, she was a bit different to what she is now. She was much happier, joked a lot, didn't have much darkness in her. She was pretty flat. Now that she's here, she has evolved into a much more human like character, much more rounded. She is a pretender. She feels one thing but pretends to feel different. All her joking persona isn't all real, she is pretty emotional. Jerry has many layers and many emotions she can't understand, she feels a lot of guilt, fear, love and hate, but presents a careless, joking girl to everyone else.

Hedwig Carter:

Hedwig is a character that was evolved from another character I was writing. In the beginning of this account, i tried out different kinds of characters to find the ones I wanted. I was writing a "quiet kid" yandere oneshot because I wanted this typical yandere setting, aka being in school. But I didn't like the character, I already had men (kry and silas) and I wanted it to feel like yandere simulator, so I scrapped that oneshot and created a girl. She wasn't supposed to be rich, but I decided to add it to have more to work with. I created her out on an evening walk in January 2023.

I don't like when characters who are supposed to be "normal" have "non-normal" names. I cannot imagine a girl who goes to school like everyone else having a name like "elowen", "amethyst" etc. i want the name to fit the situation and feel natural. Hedwig is one of those names. It feels wealthy, yet natural. It is distinctive, yet normal. The name Carter came to me when playing the game "titanic adventure out of time" when you have to go down to the cargo and the steward are like "YOURE A CARTER!!!" because the Carters owned the car that was on board the ship and a car in 1912 was expensive and etc. The name just stuck with me and felt like old money wealth, which she is.

Hedwig's personality is meant to be the opposite to Jerry, but they are quite alike too. Hedwig is sweet, innocent and loving. She doesn't like being mean. I wanted a rich popular girl that wasn't rude, entitled or a mean girl. Hedwig has a hard time controlling her emotions and can easily become "hysteric". I wanted an opposite to what's usually done - the rich popular girl is the one obsessed with someone instead of the other way around.

#yandere ocs

[thenewausten]

I had one of the best times of my life watching QSMP, watching Cellbit play with his friends, watching him laugh, cry and investigate (which is one of my passions since I was a little girl watching Scooby-Doo). I had a lot of fun, I cried a lot, I laughed together with him and I can assure to everyone it was such great days of my life. I will never forget that.

I will never forget how Cellbit and Forever became friends so quickly, how Roier and Cellbit started to date, I will never forget their marriage, I will never forget the brazilians and Richas, they building the Favela, the StarBobby... I could never forget Cellbit building his castle, his regret era and Quackity and him together walking around the island. I guess I'll never forget the great days I had because of QSMP, I could never forget it. Never.

When I met Quackity I was in a difficult phase of my life, when I started to watch QSMP I needed to carry on with my life and Quackity helped me a lot through this process, he gave me courage to be myself, to change, to give my blood, sweat and tears for what I wanted. To make the difference in the world by creating something that's yours and I could never forget this, too.

I will always be thankful for QSMP and for Quackity's impact in my life. Always. Even if someday I stop being a fan of him, I'll be thankful for what he've done in my life in such a small space of time.

Today, I want to thank Quackity for creating QSMP, it was very important to me, and it changed my life somehow. I also want to thank all the admins, but specially Richarlyson <3, all the players, but the special ones: Foolish, Roier, Felps, Max <3, Bagi, Pac and Mike, Baghs and Cellbit.

I started to watch it because of Cellbit, because he's the reason why I do/watch/create a lot of stuff, he's one of the reasons why I'm alive today and I'll forever love him with all my heart.

Quackity, I made you a playlist with a lot of songs that made me think of you, I wrote you poems and watched a lot of your videos, I suffered when you were suffering and I laughed with you and because of you.

I know you made a lot of mistakes, and, maybe, you didn't expect it'd end the way it did, but it's how life works sometimes. I hope you can learn from your mistakes, Alex.

However, I've never doubt of your genuine love for QSMP, I've always felt the way you did love this project. Well, I can say to you, Quackity, that the last song of the playlist's "Carrying Your Love" by David Morris.

I can tell you, Quackity, QSMP ended, but the love and tenderness with this project could never end in my heart, and "I'm Carrying Your Love with me, West Virginia down to Tennessee."

Thank you so much, Alex.

Thank you so much, Cellbit, a lot of this started with you and I guess it'll always end with you ❤️

I'll miss Cucurucho so much, tho :)

Family! Always!

Always remember QSMP, 2023.

With all my love, tenderness and gratitude!

❤️

#quackity #qsmp #qsmp brazil #qsmp brasil #cellbit #foolish #bagi #qsmp richas

[mychlapci]

i really love your recent two fics they made me roll around giggling and kicking my feet i want to print them out really small and put them in a locket to wear and gaze at lovingly all day 👉👈

i think if megatron started continuously carrying and birthing again starscream wouldn’t be disturbed so much as recognizing from experience that the new sparklings are sort of doomed to be soldiers from birth… maybe he gets at least some sort of vindictive pleasure from how painful the birthing process looks and how he gets to see megatron in agony for once (if he’s allowed to supervise, if only so megatron can have someone to scream at)… but seeing the sparklings nurse while megatron firmly but gently cleans the afterbirth off makes him just jealous in a primal but inherent sense

my true love is IDW/MTMTE broodmother megatron peacefully nursing his sweet chubby autobot babies but i really really love the idea of armada megatron being able to power through birth through sheer willpower and the absolute confidence that these babies will win the war for him, and if they don’t he’ll have birthed many by then to take their place

ough oug thank you so much, i had a lot of fun writing and the cogs are already turning trying to think of more. anything to keep me going through my exams, i suppose.

Obviously, idw Megatron nursing fat little autobot babies is the best fantasy. He deserves to be the lost light's big, scary, but ultimately harmless broodmomma <3 But I’ve really been into Armada Megatron being a broodmother, mostly because I'm revisiting the show and my brain is latching onto it, but I can definitely give a coherent reason why I think it fits… But that’s a long story.

Starscream is absolutely conflicted between pitying and hating any new sparklings… they’re all just born into this world to die for Megatron, and Megatron doesn’t even care. By the time most of his oldest litters die in battle, Megatron has birthed so many more soldiers that he doesn’t even remember the older ones anymore. It's sad. That, and Starscream is jealous…. he's jealous of every single one of Megatron’s young that receives a sliver of affection, still more than he was ever given. watching him suffer through birth gives him some satisfaction, at least. Starscream gets to assure himself that he must have hurt Megatron as much, if not more, while he was being born as well. It's a sick feeling, but it keeps him satisfied... for now.

#can you tell that i've been itching to talk more about broodmother megatron. i. uh. will see myself out now. #valveplug #kind of #birth mention #texty #broodmother megatron

[godsofhumanity]

We all know what happen with Cronus and Rhea relationship, how do you think Cronus brothers treat their wives and family?

whenever i received a hc-request related to the titans, i do a little weird dance and scream inside my head because im so excited to talk about them hee hee

ok. i'm just gonna start with Kronos x Rhea to begin with, because it's been a while since i talked the Couple of the Year, and it's just easier for me to get my thoughts going. the rest of the titans follow the [read more] break... i didn't want to clog people's dashes :)

KRONOS x RHEA:

BEFORE everything went bad, BEFORE Kronos was even born (remembering that he is the youngest of the Titans, and was born last), i love the idea that Rhea herself was always a mischief maker and she naturally got along with Iapetus who was the Family Prankster (much to Oceanus' despair T-T).

so when Kronos was born, and it turned out he was even more wily and cunning than Iapetus, i think Rhea and Kronos just had a natural thing going from the start.

Rhea, to me, is super intelligent and witty. so is Kronos. so i like the idea that, in their youth, they were quite the prankster duo. Kronos would play pranks on Rhea, and Rhea would one-up him, and then Oceanus would get mad at them both.

i don't see Kronos and Rhea as being "overly romantic". Kronos doesn't call Rhea by any gushy nicknames or anything; i think they both would hate that. they'd much rather poke fun at each other and tease each other.

i think Rhea has a quick temper, and i love the idea of Kronos intentionally getting on her nerves because he thinks its cute when she gets annoyed lmfao

as a husband, i think it's far more bittersweet to imagine that Kronos was a great husband pre-insanity. he was the saviour of the Titans; the only one gutsy enough to commit patricide and save his siblings from an eternity of terror and fear, never knowing when Ouranos would one day snap and decide to shove them ALL in Tartarus.

but he wasn't only a warrior. he loved Rhea. her death is what i have previously hc'd to be the awakening point of Kronos' powers; his need to save her allows him to travel back in time and fix his mistakes. so yeah he certainly treated her well.

faultwise, i think Kronos' worst trait is that he always has this super strong, fearless exterior. so when Ouranos tells Kronos that his children will rise up and overthrow him and enslave all his siblings, Kronos DOESN'T TELL Rhea this. he doesn't want to look weak in front of her. and i think he still has this idea that he needs to protect her.

i think it's important to remember that at this time, there were NO OTHER GODS. Nyx's children were alive, but not involved in the affairs of the titans. this was the first time in history a "takeover" had occurred. no one really knew what to do. Kronos didn't know what to do. all he knew was that he was the leader, and he had to protect his siblings at all costs.

i hc that Kronos and Rhea have always wanted children; i mean, the Earth was sort of just made up of 12 Titans, 3 Hecatoncheires, 3 Cyclops, 4 absent primordials, and 1 psycho pseudo-primordial with anger management problems. so i think there was definitely a need for the Titans to have their own families to populate the place.

but when Kronos and Rhea settle down as King and Queen, and Rhea starts talking about families, Kronos just indulges her without ever acknowledging his own fears. perhaps this is partly because he doesn't want to burden her, but i also think Kronos was just naturally paranoid and feared that if he spoke his worst fears aloud, they'd come true. so he'd keep them buried until it was too late and oops, he's swallowed his kids.

i think it's a real testament to Rhea that she forgives him after losing Hestia. well, maybe not forgives him, but she moves past it. i think it shows how much trust and love she had for him.. to stick around after all of that. she truly adored him. of course, we all know how that story ends with them.. so i'll stop there. but yeah, i think pre-insanity, Kronos was a good husband and Rhea was an excellent wife. and their downfall was Kronos' inability to express every part of himself to his wife, fears included.

OCEANUS x TETHYS:

THE most unproblematic couple of all time.

Oceanus treats Tethys like,, well, a goddess.

Oceanus is the firstborn Titan. he was the guy who raised all his 11 little brothers and sisters. he fed them, clothed them, taught them, played with him, disciplined them. he was the guy who was there for the first time they cried, the first time they laughed, the first time they fought, the first time they lost. needless to say, that kinda makes a guy.... patient, kind, respectful, thoughtful.

i'm a younger sibling myself, and i know that many older siblings work their butts off to take care of their little siblings... and that can be a pain. but i love the idea that Oceanus enjoyed every second of it. it was the most IMPORTANT duty Gaia ever gave him; to look after them.

11 siblings is a lot. so i think that Oceanus never really ever had any time for himself... but when Tethys comes along, i love the idea that she is sort of the only one of her siblings who actually realises fully how much work Oceanus does for them. and she does everything she can to make his burden lighter.

Oceanus normally has a hard exterior, but i hc that with Tethys, he fully relaxes. the full range of his emotions, he shows to Tethys, who is his confidant, his other half.

i think their communication skills are soo good. that's why they last for eternity without any real fights.

obviously, after having 11 siblings, that Oceanus would have his own children, no one could doubt. he was so good at it. and of course, he does... he has like 1000s of kids hee hee.

Oceanus knows every single one of his children's names, he could recognise them by their laugh alone... i think these are the things that make him the complete opposite of Ouranos and that's SO important for his character.

fault-wise, i think maybe Oceanus' only weakness is that he's a bit over-protective. for Hera, for example, i've always liked the idea that Oceanus hates Zeus; this all makes sense, of course, when you consider Zeus' history, and also that Zeus killed Oceanus' daughter Metis. so i get it. but i also think he's like that for all of his kids... heavily scrutinising their partners etc. (see Iapetus x Asia below!) but yeah. even this "weakness" is up for debate. but i personally think Oceanus may be justified in this.

COEUS x PHOEBE:

i always hc'd Coeus as very shy and timid. he is the most intelligent of all the Titans,,, but he cannot hold a conversation to save his life.

i think Coeus was usually the victim of Iapetus and Kronos' jokes in their youth, even though he's the 2nd oldest, because he just naturally is a very passive and soft god with an aversion to fighting.

Phoebe is a lot like him, i suppose, because she's also a bit shy. but i do like the idea that Phoebe has a little more gutsiness than him when she is really pushed. she can fight, when provoked.

because of this, i truly think Phoebe is the pillar in their relationship. any doubts that Coeus has, i think he would bring it to Phoebe.

i think he would tell her almost anything... and he is inspired by her strength during the Titanomachy to also take up arms against Kronos when he goes mad.

Coeus' kids are Asteria, Leto, and Lelantos. Asteria and Leto are both quite headstrong goddesses... i think Leto, especially, is quite boisterous, which is fascinating considering Phoebe and Coeus' mild natures. but i think their children are reflections of their hidden strengths.

Coeus is a good father, i think. Phoebe is a good mother. i think all of this is attested by the kind and elegant nature of Asteria, Leto's righteousness, and Lelantos' innocence.

also, a bit unrelated i guess, but Phoebe is the kinda gal to call her husband by gooey petnames HAHA and Coeus is too shy to ever say he likes it when she does that, but he does. and she knows it. it came to her in a prophecy ;)

CRIUS x EURYBIA:

winners of the Most Enigmatic and Mysterious Couple of the Year.

Crius and Eurybia are a lot of fun to make up stuff about because there's literally no lore for either one.

Crius, to me, is quiet. but it's not because he's shy. he's just reserved. he doesn't like talking if there's no reason to talk.

yes. he hates small talk.

Eurybia, however, is the opposite! i think she talks LOADS. she loves talking. or singing. she loves asking all sorts of useless and dumb questions, especially to Crius because she knows it irritates him... she loves messing with him.

for example, Crius, as the god of the stars and constellations, is always star gazing and recording the movement of the planets, etc. and even though Eurybia knows exactly how it works (Crius has explained it to her many times, it's one of the few things he actually likes actively talking about), she'll still point at the constellation of the Ram and say, "that's the donkey one, right?" and Crius will try not to scream.

i can't remember if i wrote about how they met, but basically, i think Kronos divided the land into North, East, South and West: Coeus in the North, Iapetus in the East, Crius in the South, and Hyperion in the West. and while wandering about across his land in the South, Crius randomly came across Eurybia while she was by one of the rivers that flow through his land, and she was just so fascinating to him, and he was just so interesting to her, they just naturally clicked.

because Crius is such a reserved guy, i honestly think, Crius isn't all that forthcoming about everything. this is because Crius only says things that he deems "need to be said".

so, as Kronos' 2nd right-hand man (after Iapetus, obvs), i think Crius is privileged with a lot of information. and he doesn't share a lot of it with Eurybia, only the things that are relevant to her.

for example, Crius wouldn't tell Eurybia that Kronos locked up the Hecatoncheires (a pivotal event marking the growing paranoia of Kronos) because it doesn't have anything to do with Eurybia, but Crius does tell her of his suspicions that there is a resistance growing against Kronos, and that he feels their son Pallas is part of it (which is true) because Pallas is their son and this involves Eurybia.

for Eurybia's part, i think she has never cared much for "titan business". Eurybia, being the daughter of Gaia and Pontus, is NOT a titan. so i hc that she isn't really concerned at all about Crius' secrecy. she is aware of it, but she is 100% confident in his love for her (which is true, he does love her) and trusts him implicitly. and if she had reason to suspect that Crius was not being true to himself, only then would she confront him.

now to the children: Pallas, Astraeus, and Perses. Pallas and Perses are a lot like Crius, and Astraeus is a lot like Eurybia. Crius and Eurybia love all their children... BUT. Crius is very... stoic. i don't think he has ever actually told his children (or Eurybia for that matter) that he loves them, they all simply know it by way of his actions.

as a father, i think Crius pushes his children all the time to be the best they can be. for him, Ouranos' terror was not all that long ago. he doesn't want them to be weak and defenseless. he needs to know that they can save themselves. he also expects that they will follow Kronos as he does, because Kronos saved them all, and Crius is loyal to him.

so i think, when the war finally comes about, and Crius is fighting against Pallas and Astraeus, and not alongside them, it's a terrible betrayal for Crius. and i think he rejects them as his sons then. so not the greatest father of all time.

now Perses does fight with Crius, and he is loyal to Kronos. and i think Crius is forever wondering how things could have gone so wrong when clearly one of his sons is still loyal.

when Kronos is freed from Tartarus and becomes King of Elysium under Zeus' orders, his siblings go with him. and though things will never be the same, and Crius will never see his children again. i like the idea that in his heart, he feels pride for Pallas and Astraeus fighting for what they believed, and he forgives them.

for Eurybia, i think she has always loved and adored her husband and her children. and lets them know that every step of the way. i love the idea of her fighting alongside Crius, less because she cares about Kronos and more because she supports her husband (and also, i needed at least 1 goddess being punished in Tartarus.. there were too many men T-T). BUT. even though she has to fight her own sons, it's not a betrayal to her. she is SO proud that they stuck to their guns. that they wouldn't sacrifice their morals and beliefs just to avoid confrontation with their parents.

Eurybia fights against Pallas and Astraeus with a smile on her face, and she throws everything she has at them because, when they face her in battle, they are gods in their own right, and they are her equals. she's equally proud of Perses for staying true to what he believes in; to her, this is the most important thing in the world, to be true to yourself.

post-war, Pallas' daughter is named Bia, and i love the idea that he named her for his mother, so he definitely admired his mum and her strength. curiously, Bia ends up being a very loyal supporter of Zeus during a time that the 2nd gen. titans fall OUT with Zeus due to Prometheus being punished, so Crius' family is full of gods who put their family ties on the line to do what they think is right. which i kinda like! ((Pallas and Prometheus are the best of friends. practically brothers.))

so yeah, i think Eurybia's a different sort of mum, but i personally think she's one of the best :)

HYPERION x THEIA:

hmmm.. what to say about these two. honestly i think they're a pretty normal couple.

Theia's a goddess who loves jewels and sparkly things and i can see Hyperion always showering her with gifts. that's their love language.

they don't really have too much trouble. Hyperion isn't one of Kronos' most loyal supporters... i think if Hyperion was privy to what he had done to Rhea, Hyperion would have immediately been on Team Zeus.

in their regular life, i think both Hyperion and Theia are very good to each other. they're open with each other, and they have a lot of trust.

their children are Selene, Eos, and Helios. i think that, from all the 2nd gen. titans, these three are the most "spoiled". i truly think Hyperion is an adoring and doting father.

side-track for one sec: if you're familiar with the myth where Medea kills her own children to get revenge on Jason for marrying Creusa behind her back, you know how taboo filicide is, and YET, Helios saves his babygirl granddaughter and gives her a chariot ride away from the scene. truly Helios loved all his children and lineage. i think he HAS to get this from Hyperion, who in turn had to get it from the only father he knows: Oceanus.

also, with the way Eos casually takes the mortal prince Tithonus and others against their wills because she's in love with them.. there is a myth where she only does this because Aphrodite cursed her because of some other disagreement to have insatiable sexual desire, but even in light of this, she's definitely a girl who's used to getting what she wants.

BUT IN SAYING ALL OF THAT, i think Hyperion and Theia are good, kind people. if Hyperion and Theia learned to be good parents from Oceanus, then they had to learn his kindness too. and i do think that Selene, Eos, and Helios share this trait with them too.

in Medea's myth, i think Helios KNOWS that Medea was pushed into that horrible tragedy; she was cursed with a love spell that made her commit both patricide and fratricide for Jason, whom she never would have helped without it. and after all that, he still ditched her. so yes, i think Helios having sympathy for his granddaughter was justified.

FURTHERMORE, in Persephone's abduction myth, Hekate takes Demeter to Helios to learn where Persephone is and he tells her.. similarly, Helios tells Hephaestus about Aphrodite's affair with Ares... these are things that Helios doesn't truly have to do, but i picture him doing it with such kindness and gentleness.. i think he's a caring guy.

with Eos, i think after she gives Tithonus immortality, even though he starts to age, she still STAYS with him, and takes care of him even after her fascination with him has died... i think that is a lot more than most other gods do after playing around with their favourite mortal.

Selene is relatively problem-free (? dont quote me on that pls idk what exactly is going on with Endymion's myth HAHA) which i feel can only serve to support the idea that Hyperion's kids are PRETTY good.

so yeah. all in all. pretty good family. Hyperion (and Theia)'s biggest weakness, i think, is that they were so caught up in their own bliss, they didn't see any of the signs that could've suggested the impending doom of Kronos lurking on the horizon.

IAPETUS x ASIA:

winners of the Most Unexpected Couple of the Year.

ok so. Asia is an Oceanid. and as i already wrote before, Oceanus is fiercely protective of his children. and Iapetus... well, Iapetus is Iapetus.

i think Iapetus was a bit of a late-bloomer when it came to love. i think he was the last one of the elder Titans to marry because for the most part, he was just interested in joking around and having fun.

but after everyone starts to get married and have families, and Kronos becomes King so he doesn't have any time for trivial pranks, i think it starts to settle in with Iapetus that he needs to get along with his life.

i have a hc that Oceanus would, pre-Kronos-insanity-era, regularly hold these dinners for his siblings so that everyone would still come together with their newly established families to share meals together like they used to. and of course, that meant that all of Oceanus' children would be there too.

and i like the idea that Iapetus, ever eager for an audience to entertain, would always come up with some trick or the other to make Oceanus' children laugh. and now that Oceanus didn't really have to keep an eye over Iapetus anymore, he could afford to smile at his tricks too :)

now. i have said a few times that the gods don't age the way humans do. it's not linear. gods mature according to the needs of the time. so even though Iapetus is, technically, a lot older than Oceanus' children, he doesn't appear like it because.. as i said.. Iapetus himself wasn't really ready to settle into life and be an adult.

anyhow. Asia is one of Oceanus' sweetest daughters. her humour threshold is so LOW. she will laugh at even the worst of jokes... and Iapetus is a GOLDMINE for bad jokes. so i think, Iapetus was always guaranteed a smile and enthusiasm when he saw her.

i think Oceanus was very annoyed by this... he didn't really want one of his daughters to be hanging around with a god whom he personally knew was a bit of a no-gooder. so i think Oceanus really put Iapetus through the ringer to show that, if he was serious about Asia, he could be a good husband and treat her properly.

and through that process, i think Iapetus did mature out, and show that behind the jokes, he truly was kind and loyal, and as the Ruler of the East, he could provide a good home for Asia. and so it was!

now Iapetus definitely loved Asia. all the titans loved their wives to begin with. BUT, Iapetus' problem was Kronos.

being the right-hand man of a psycho tends to rub off on you.

i think that Kronos' paranoia seeped into Iapetus' mind too. and as Kronos began to put distance between himself and Rhea, so did Iapetus with Asia. suddenly, Iapetus didn't feel like he needed to tell his wife everything... keeping Kronos' secrets was more important to Iapetus than being truthful to his wife.

to be honest, i don't imagine Asia being particularly smart, or fierce or courageous. not every god needs to be a superhero. that's not to say she was dumb or anything, but no one was calling Asia to weigh in on war councils or anything like that. and i think, as time goes on, this becomes very apparent to Iapetus. and he thinks that makes her weak. and as her husband, it's his responsibility to shield her from the things that he think could break her.

now in this regard, i do think Asia would have been absolutely heart-broken to know the kinds of gods Iapetus and Kronos had become, and post-war, Asia still is never fully aware of the extent of Iapetus' crimes because Prometheus and Anchiale make sure their mother will only remember her husband for the good things... leading up to and during the war, Iapetus is a MASTER of illusion and deceit.. and by Gaia he can play the role of a good husband amazingly well. so Asia i think, was totally blind to the truth.

Asia and Iapetus' children are: Prometheus, Atlas, Anchiale, Menoetius, and Epimetheus. Iapetus would never SAY he had favourites, but i do think Prometheus was his golden child. he was smart, witty, cunning, mischievous, and with a natural talent for illusions and magic, the same as Iapetus. so i think he had a lot of pride for Prometheus, and so many huge expectations that Prometheus would be some sort of powerful commander in Kronos' army.

when it became apparent that Kronos and Rhea were not having much luck in producing heirs (though the exact reasons were yet unknown), i think Iapetus might've considered that Prometheus could be the heir that Kronos needed... he would have been a perfect candidate. and Kronos himself had a super great relationship with Prometheus as a child. Prometheus didn't call Kronos "King" or "my Lord" like most of his cousins did, he called him "Uncle" because that's what he was.

AND YET. Prometheus also had all of Asia's kindness. mixed with Iapetus' bravery... he could never be the god that Iapetus wanted him to be.

in the Titanomachy, i think Prometheus is the one to fight Iapetus and it is... like the world falls apart. i think Iapetus is so furious that his son could betray him, i think he disowns him in his heart for sure. but Prometheus doesn't. he loves his father like he loves his uncle, and he knows that their current corrupted state is not a reflection of the gods they truly are.

as for the other kids: Atlas is Iapetus' 2nd most cunning child, and i think he's almost like Prometheus EXCEPT that Atlas is cowardly. even as a child. and i think Iapetus always tries to push Atlas to overcome this: it's important because if any one of the elder Titans had shown cowardice, they would have failed in their fight against Ouranos. so Iapetus truly despises cowardly people. Atlas ends up giving himself up and helping Zeus at the 11th hour to save his hide, and i think that's another disappointment for Iapetus.

Menoetius is headstrong, but he's not too witty, so i think he could've been closer to Asia than Iapetus... nevertheless, he supports his father to the end because all of Iapetus' children are aware of how much he values loyalty. and though Menoetius couldn't do the tricks Prometheus and Atlas could, he showed Iapetus his worth by standing with Kronos till the end. he's actually the only one of Iapetus' 5 children to show such undying loyalty, the same as Iapetus has for Kronos. so Iapetus appreciates that.

Anchiale and Epimetheus are more soft in nature. Anchiale is smart but she doesn't care too much for trickery, and i think she doesn't like confrontation and violence, the same as her mother. i give her this attribute to explain why the Lore doesn't give Anchiale much of a role. but where Iapetus doesn't share much with his wife Asia because he thinks her weak, Prometheus does share with his sister Anchiale all his thoughts and his desire to fight against Kronos, and though she's unwilling to pick up a sword herself, she stays with her mother and little brother Epimetheus and protects them from home, and she covers for Prometheus: which i think is an alternative form of bravery, but bravery nonetheless. and if Iapetus wasn't such an idiot, he would've been proud of that.

Epimetheus i think was a child when Iapetus went to Tartarus. his only memories of Iapetus is being a good dad; a dad who tells him jokes, and scary stories, and who could make a coin appear from his ear. i don't think Prometheus and Anchiale ever try to spoil these memories for him. it's good for Epimetheus to remember Iapetus for who he was and not who he ended up as.

anyhow. all in all, Iapetus was probably the 2nd worst husband after Kronos... this is to be expected given their proximity.... but uh yeah.

i hope this all made sense lol feel free to send an ask if u want a clarification on anything ^-^ i have terminal brainrot about the titans and can speak forever and ever about them.

#nicosavior456 #asks #hc #long post

[ninadove]

Nina reads Dracula 🦇

May 24th

And we’re back, thank goodness!!! I’ve been so worried about my good friend Jonathan! I can’t wait to hear how he outsmarted the Count and made it out safely and —

Letter, Lucy Westenra to Mina Murray.

GODDAMMIT

But hey, it’s the girls! I love the girls! Let’s see if they’ve been building any castles in the air recently.

My dear, it never rains but it pours. How true the old proverbs are. Here am I, who shall be twenty in September, and yet I never had a proposal till to-day, not a real proposal, and to-day I have had three. Just fancy! THREE proposals in one day! Isn't it awful!

This is my idea of a nightmare actually. But!!! More points for the poly theory!!!

I feel sorry, really and truly sorry, for two of the poor fellows.

Nevermind, they didn’t pass the vibe check. (Or did they?)

You and I, Mina dear, who are engaged and are going to settle down soon soberly into old married women, can despise vanity.

Cottagecore sapphics anyone? 💖

I told you of him, Dr. John Seward, the lunatic-asylum man, with the strong jaw and the good forehead. He was very cool outwardly, but was nervous all the same. He had evidently been schooling himself as to all sorts of little things, and remembered them; but he almost managed to sit down on his silk hat, which men don't generally do when they are cool, and then when he wanted to appear at ease he kept playing with a lancet in a way that made me nearly scream.

Wasn’t he supposed to be the cool unaffected one? Maybe Lucy just has this effect on people.

He was going to tell me how unhappy he would be if I did not care for him, but when he saw me cry he said that he was a brute and would not add to my present trouble. […] And then, Mina, I felt a sort of duty to tell him that there was some one. I only told him that much, and then he stood up, and he looked very strong and very grave as he took both my hands in his and said he hoped I would be happy, and that if I ever wanted a friend I must count him one of my best.

GOOD!!!!! I LIKE HIM!!!!!

Well, my dear, number Two came after lunch. He is such a nice fellow, an American from Texas —

[Miraculous flashabacks] DON’T —

I know now what I would do if I were a man and wanted to make a girl love me.

Normal Things To Tell Your Bestie, 99th edition

Mr. Quincey P. Morris found me alone. It seems that a man always does find a girl alone. No, he doesn't, for Arthur tried twice to make a chance, and I helping him all I could; I am not ashamed to say it now.

😏

I must tell you beforehand that Mr. Morris doesn't always speak slang—that is to say, he never does so to strangers or before them, for he is really well educated and has exquisite manners—but he found out that it amused me to hear him talk American slang, and whenever I was present, and there was no one to be shocked, he said such funny things. […]

'Miss Lucy, I know I ain't good enough to regulate the fixin's of your little shoes, but I guess if you wait till you find a man that is you will go join them seven young women with the lamps when you quit. Won't you just hitch up alongside of me and let us go down the long road together, driving in double harness?'

OK BUT THIS IS LITERALLY SO SWEET he personalised it and even made fun of himself to diffuse the tension 🥺

And then, my dear, before I could say a word he began pouring out a perfect torrent of love-making, laying his very heart and soul at my feet. He looked so earnest over it that I shall never again think that a man must be playful always, and never earnest, because he is merry at times.

AND THEN MADE HIMSELF VULNERABLE!!!!! What a man!!!

I burst into tears—I am afraid, my dear, you will think this a very sloppy letter in more ways than one—

LUCY

Why can't they let a girl marry three men, or as many as want her, and save all this trouble?

Wait. THE POLYCULE IS CANON??? THE POLYCULE IS CANON?????

'If that other fellow doesn't know his happiness, well, he'd better look for it soon, or he'll have to deal with me. Little girl, your honesty and pluck have made me a friend, and that's rarer than a lover; it's more unselfish anyhow. My dear, I'm going to have a pretty lonely walk between this and Kingdom Come. Won't you give me one kiss? It'll be something to keep off the darkness now and then. You can, you know, if you like, for that other good fellow—he must be a good fellow, my dear, and a fine fellow, or you could not love him—hasn't spoken yet.' That quite won me, Mina, for it was brave and sweet of him, and noble, too, to a rival—wasn't it?—and he so sad; so I leant over and kissed him.

Honestly? Mood. I am utterly charmed by this cowboy.

Now number 3 has to be something.

P.S.—Oh, about number Three—I needn't tell you of number Three, need I? Besides, it was all so confused; it seemed only a moment from his coming into the room till both his arms were round me, and he was kissing me. I am very, very happy, and I don't know what I have done to deserve it. I must only try in the future to show that I am not ungrateful to God for all His goodness to me in sending to me such a lover, such a husband, and such a friend.

THAT’S IT????? A POST-SCRIPTUM????? GIRL THIS IS YOUR FIANCÉ

OK OK I am willing to accept that the strength of your feelings can’t be transcribed into words. But still.

In conclusion: these are Lucy’s three boyfriends, and yes, they eat garlic bread. 🧄🥖

(Also the contrast with Dracula’s roommates did not go unnoticed)

< Prev 🦇 Next >

#dracula #dracula daily #nina reads dracula #lucy westenra #mina murray #john seward #quincey p. morris

[luck-of-the-drawings]

"And soda; runs off into the street..." "...and soda... is totally okay!"

#jrwi fanart #jrwi show #jrwi suckening #cw blood #something something cracking open a boy w the cold ones #IF THERE ARE ANY MISTAKES I MISSED I SWWWEAR TO JEBEDIAH. IF I STARE AT THIS ANYMORE IM GONNA DIE IT NEEDS TO BE DONE #ALSO RRRAAAHAHHHGHGH CAN I JUST TAKEA SECOND TO SCREEAAMM ABT HOW MUCH I LOVE SODA AND EMIZEL.. LIKE THERYE SO CUTE.... #THEY ARE HOMIES THAT KISS EACHOTHR GOODNIGHT. THEY CARE SO MUCH FOR EACHOTHER. SODA LOVES SODA AND SODA LOVES YOU #do u guys remember how willing he was to share blood w his vampire bestie. like cmon. remember when emizel memorized sodas Soda Schedule. #LIKE CMON.... they just have eachothers backs so much. ouhhh my god... ANYWAY SO THE ART HUH. I FEEL LIKE I SCRAMBLED W IT FOR A WHILE #DRAWIN IS HARD..... i think i did well in the end tho.. i like the lil heart beat effects. and i hope i made soda look Suffieciently Scared #i ALSO had fun w the teeth. i however did not have fun w the walls. if i had more drugs i mightve done every brick in more detail #but i didnt WANNA!!!! this will suffice.I HOPE IT FLOWS WELL&THAT ITS CLEAR... IVE STARED AT IT SO LONG IT IS NOW VISUAL SOUP. HELP!!! #i want my comics to have more Pauses and Space and Thought and Momence. i feel like normally they go so fast. but THIS time #i think i did good.... huuoouhhhh.... comics are HARD art is HARD but i am HARDER. or something. OH YEAH I HAVE MORE ART THINGS #soda was RLY HARD FOR ME TO DRAW FOR A MINUTE..but i like where his design is now. i wanted his hair to be curly swirly.like soda fizz #i THINK thats all my thoughts for now. if u have thoughts u should spill them in the tags i looooove reading tttaaggsss #have a goodnight i gotta go to work soon. maybe. unless the casinos power goes out AGAIN. OR SEOMTHING... UUGHHH MY SCHEDULE IS IN SHAMBLES #I THOUGHT I WAS WORKIN 3 DAYS INA ROW SO I RENTED A WHOLE DAMN HOTEL BC THE JOB PLACE IS FAR AWAY.. I HAD TO CANCEL THE WHOLE RESERVATOn #annd im MMMMAD ABOUT IT!!! like ill get over it ofc BUT IM PEEVED!!!! IM INCONVIENIENCED AND GENTLY AGGRIVATED. BUT OVERALL FINE. #hope yalls weekend goes well. sleep well. if u get the chance to.

[mel-loly]

-“Oh, school has to be something serious, especially this year/something like that!”

The things I did when I was at school (especially in computer class):

TW: cigarette

I have a lot of memories, and this is certainly one of the most important/best/funniest in my life. I'm really going to miss everything... and I'm already crying lol..

#yes. I did that- and my friends loved that stuff <33 #*sigh* I'm really going to miss it.. I'm not ready to be someone older... (I really hate the future) #and I'm not posting anything yet because I'm waiting for christmas day to me come back. that's why I'm not answering anyone #when I get back. I'll kind of try to have more content and answer you guys. but for now I want some time... #I want my year to end in a different way. #like- full of memories. the ones that made me laugh the most. these are the ones I really want to remember.. #I don't want to leave aside everything I've experienced this year. and in all these last years actually. #I want to remember them. I want to make them become stories so I can tell other people how much I had fun.. #and I hope that even I will enter a new life. I can also have other stories to tell and have fun! #with other people. and maybe. with my friends too.. #so- yeah. I'm mel. and hope if you read this. say something.. to let me know that you care or something... #i'm mel and this is my blog✌️ #my art blog #my memes #? #my memories #my memories of school #my memories at school

[fistfuloflightning]

Jun Wu/Qi Rong "simulacrum" ;D

I had the last word, you know. But you weren’t there to respond.

#tgcf #qi rong #jun wu #my art #art prompt #doing this one made me realize I’ve read exactly one mxtx book all the way to the end (mdzs) #and I honestly remember only about a third of it #sunshot campaign? nope #the whole lead up to the temple thing at the end? hell no #I remember vv little (nothing) of tgcf so I had to refresh my memory who these two even were 😅 #super fun to draw tho! #not a huge fan of mxtx’s plots but I do love how she writes characters soso much #just give me a tiny corner of her sandbox to play in and I’m a happy little girl :)