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peachpitfics · 24 hours

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Cruel Summer

Fandom: Bridgerton

Summary: Following your romp with Benedict Bridgerton in his art studio, he asked your brother for your hand! Now you're on your honeymoon, and you're getting a little bored, posing for him. A lady must find ways to amuse herself!

Length: 2.1k

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Content Warnings: Oral sex (male receiving), Penetrative vaginal sex, unprotected sex, light bondage, food play.

a/n: This is an anonymous request for a continuation of 'Guilty as Sin'.

Bridgerton master list (tag list)

Benedict Bridgerton escorting you to view his artwork, at his private studio, was just the beginning of your story. After sneaking around behind your family’s backs for a small while, Benedict gathered enough courage to ask your eldest brother’s permission for your hand. This seemed strange to the y/l/n family, not one of them had ever seen the two of you together, which showed how much attention was paid to the middle child. Benedict made sure to ask you in the Bridgerton drawing room, just before family tea, for everyone to see. He made such a big to-do, confessing his love to you, before every member of the Bridgerton family in attendance. It felt particularly safe there, amongst people who took interest in who you were as a person.

It was bittersweet to have siblings who offered their time, their attentions, and their hobbies freely. You learned so many new things from each of them, from pall-mall, to sewing, even horse riding. In six months, you were married and moved into the Bridgerton house for the meantime, until after your honeymoon. You would never outright tell Benedict you did not want to move out, but he felt it, he knew.

“My love” Benedict whispered, shaking your shoulders gently. Honeymooning in Paris was something the two of you had instantly agreed upon. So far, two weeks of sleeping late, making love, and eating copious amounts of divine food was your only concern. Of course, there were a lot of other lovely things Benedict had planned for your honeymoon – river boat rides and romantic dinners, every moment between locations filled with fine bread, wine, and cheese.

“Yes, my love?” You grumbled, rolling away from him, clearly having not had enough sleep.

“You must wake up, it is midafternoon!” Benedict exclaimed with a chesty laugh, rolling you back into him and tickling your sides. You howled with laughter, pushing him away playfully, leaning up to distract him as only you knew how. His lips were warm and wet against your own, seductive, and luscious.

“You must come downstairs! The housekeeper has left us a feast and I wish to paint my gorgeous wife” Benedict slid his hands around your naked body, lifting you out of bed as you groaned.

“Again?!” “My darling, I’ll be painting you until death takes me” Benedict chuffed, sliding sideways between doorways and down the stairs to the sitting room.

“What if death takes me first?” You smirked back, figuring you had him cornered here.

“I have made God promise I am to go first. And even so, I’ll have every detail committed to memory and these paintings and sketches of you now to keep me company” Benedict squeezed you in his arms, he didn’t like to joke about parting ways, in any sense. It was his truest nightmare, his deepest fear.

Benedict set you down in the sitting room and gestured to what he and the house keeping staff had readied. Paint, canvas, a staging area - littered around the room were bowls of fresh fruit, bottles of wine, candles surrounded by plates of cheese, oil, and bread. You relaxed back against his chest, his arms wrapping around you, cupping your breasts sweetly. You giggle a little, planting a soft kiss on his cheek. He nodded to your position for the rest of the day, a chair with the back faced to a very high window, casting a streak of sunlight down upon the spot.

There you sat, for hardly an hour before your mind began to wander, circling Benedict in your mind like a shark in open water. You had learned to become comfortable being nude for long periods of time these days, however Benedict had learned nothing of your persuasion or power when your attentions were dashed. Your movements started slowly, daintily taking your hands to your knees, and spreading your legs wide upon the chair. Resting a little, relaxing your back and cupping your own breasts. Your fingers gently grazing your nipples. But nothing, no attention from your husband. He sat close to his canvas, squinting into the detail of his work, his realm of perception clearly inhibited. With a huff and a light moan, you continued to palm at your own breasts, fingers trapping your nipples in a pulling motion- you decided to pretend Benedict wasn’t here. Suddenly, taking notice, you watched as his brush left the canvas, his mouth hung open a little and he removed his glasses, almost tossing them to the floor.

“What are you doing, darling?” He mumbled, swallowing hard. Your hands ran down your mid-section, over your belly and down your thighs sensually, soft mewls slipped from between your lips. Benedict loved the sounds you made.

“I’m just amusing myself, continue on with your painting my dear” Your replying comment was nonchalant in the best way. Benedict almost looked offended that you would suggest he could go back to painting.

“How do you suppose I paint, while my wife ravages her own body before me?” He blinked at the audacity of you.

“Well, dear one, this is what you have chosen for this afternoon’s activities… Now, you must endure” You smiled, sliding your hand between your legs, dipping your finger in the wet warmth there. Benedict shuddered, wishing any part of him were exchanged with your finger.

If there was anything you had learned about Benedict in the last six or seven months, it was that his desire for you was consistent and all encompassing. Benedict watched on as your fingers circled your clitoris, you moaned and exhaled gently - his paint brush never did return to the canvas. Beads of sweat formed on his brow line, the hot, French summer finally taking its toll in the late afternoon. You reached to the small stool next to you, extracting the tiniest jar of honey. You looked into Benedict’s eyes, holding the jar above your body, dangling your head back and pouring a steady stream of honey over your chest. The sun glistened, reflecting little pools of light off your sticky, sweet skin.

Taking your finger, you swept up your belly from your navel, placing your finger on your tongue in clear view of him, and that was his very last straw. Benedict threw his paintbrush to the ground, thrusting himself up and out of his chair, to march across the room to you.

“What do you think you are doing, wife?” Benedict’s voice rasped, his eyes were so dark, the colour had all but gone.

“Playing, my love” You replied cheekily, sucking another nip of honey off your finger. He all but growled watching your finger slip between your lips, his breath quickening in sheer lust for you.

“Are you punishing me for getting you out of bed?” Benedict’s face was so close now, his nose tip to tip with yours. There was such tension in his jaw, his teeth clenched hard in his fierce need of you. You fluttered your lashes back at him, refusing to answer with your words.

“Do you have even a semblance of an understanding of what you are doing to me? This is unbelievably cruel,” He breathed heavily down on you, desperation flooding his body and adrenaline surging behind, “You can’t begin to imagine the things I want to do to you right now” His stubble gliding across your ear and cheek, making you shudder.

“Show me then,” You challenged, “You are my husband after all”.

Benedict’s hands slowly moved to his shirt, shedding it, and throwing it somewhere behind him. He acted with a sureness and a strength you hadn’t yet experienced, but it was drawing you in. Undoing his pants, Benedict took his hard member into his hands, stroking himself against your chest, lathering it in honey. His other hand wove into your hair, tangling the perfect hold, bringing you forward.

“Oh. Goodness. Seems I’ve made quite a mess of myself… Wife, help me clean it up” He smiled smugly down at you.

Something feral, untamed, was unleashed inside you, your eyes darkening, “Certainly, my lord”. As your tongue reached out to meet his tip, his head lulled back in pleasure, his hand still wrapped around the base of him. Your lips parted slowly, encasing his first inch, and swirling your tongue around to suck the honey from him. Benedict exhaled headily, his breaths deep, but quick with the slightest grunt mixed in. The way he sounded, even now, made you wetter and wetter.

There was something maliciously keen in Benedict’s eyes as he watched from on high, your pretty mouth sucking all the honey off him and then some. His body gently rocked forward, his hand heaving your head forward, onto him in a more perverse manner. His head hung back in greedy caution, grasping to the very last straws of his gentlemanly nature as you sunk to the base of him, your tongue wriggling slyly underneath.

His fingers grew taut in your hair, reefing you backwards. His laugh was low, both impressed and challenged by your ministrations. In the next moment, Benedict had hauled you up and over his shoulder, he was charging up the stairs, mad with temerity.

Entering the bedroom, he threw you down on the bed, scrambling for any piece of material in reach, he began ripping. Four pieces of silk fabrics in his hands, he loomed over you in profound ownership. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip, Benedict taking each wrist and ankle, tying them to each to their respective corner post of the bed.

“There” He stood, hands on his hips, proud of his work, “There’ll be no more of that”. Clearly touching yourself had had a dire effect on Benedict’s work ethic.

Kneeling between your thighs, his naked body unjustly out of reach, Benedict’s supercilious smile sick with goofy dominance. He thumbs over your folds, his finger descending, extorting whines of pleasure you never knew existed within you. Broad strokes of the most painful, unapologetically evil gratification. Benedict’s tongue flicked over his lips hungrily.

“I need you” The words escaped you violently, the thrill of his touch, his charming smile becoming all too much for you. He ignored you and continued another moment or two, reducing you to a begging mess beneath him.

“Shall I oblige you, my marvellous bride?” His grin was jubilant and all knowing, his hands came down on your wrists, pressing them into the bed. Benedict’s brutal, familiar kiss sown into your lips permanently, as he pushed inside of you with surprise.

“Y/n” He groaned, growled with unrepentant lust. Your eyes cast wide, the length of him stretching you mercilessly while he thrust in and out. His villainous face claiming your entire consciousness as he used your body to his pleasure, decadent facial expressions, and damnable sounds he was delivering straight to your right ear.

“You feel unimaginably perfect” Benedict groaned, your moans joining in alongside his.

Hands grasping for silk to hold onto, you longed for your own release, grinding your hips back against Benedict’s. His movements became more ferocious, keeping up with the sounds you were making. Frenetic energy began to move through your body, your ravenous thirst for him finally quenched. Every muscle in your body engaged in vivid contortion, Benedict pressing into you as deeply as he possibly could before his own body found its own powerful release.

Covered in sweat and honey, you laid tangled together for a moment before Benedict recalled your wrists and ankles were tied. He chuckled with giddiness, sitting up to admire his knots.

“You look fantastic like this, perhaps we should do this more often” He suggested sweetly. His thumb caressed the side of your face, your panting, tired body unable to give a response. Benedict littered your face and neck with loving pecks.

“We could be one person and I still would never be close enough to you. No amount of time with you will ever satisfy me. You are the centre of my world” Benedict whispered gently. Every day you were reminded of the intoxicants his poetic mind dabbled into every sweet thing he said to you.

In another instant, Benedict had sprung from the bed, running downstairs. You laughed, thinking he must be returning with some of the food the housekeeper had left strewn about his romantically planned afternoon. Instead, Benedict returned with a new canvas and his implements. Your mouth fell open all on its own, blinking furiously in his direction as he set himself up off the side of the bed.

“If you could just stay there, like that, that’d be great!” Benedict’s grin, excruciatingly exquisite, and concocting. He held himself with such pride in his agendum, cockiness seemed to fill the room in a potent manner.

“BENEDICT!?” You squealed, tugging frantically on his bindings, your laughter filled with rich resolve.

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tagging: @cringycat24 // @blckbarbiedoll // @freyagallileaevans // @junkie05 // @rosabeetroot // @flamewriterr //

If you'd like to be added to this tag list, please let me know!

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sharkylass · 2 days

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YOU I LIKE YOU @faislittlewhiteraven These questions are a little hard to answer with doodles but I tried my best- Nil generally has a pretty heroic and brave personality overall. She's loud and brash and ready to jump into things super quickly.

She's not the best with words, but she is very reliable overall

More art and writing under cut, it's just a long post man-

In terms of helping about during travels, she likes doing a lot of heavy labor jobs- She's the type to fix broken fences, gather supplies for folks, carry stuff around, tend to crops or lend a help wrangling animals. Nil wouldn't be great at things like sorting and organizing tho- Just tell her what you need and where to put it and she will! I mentioned she's not really the best with words (she is very emotionally intelligent just sometimes struggles to communicate stuff), HOWEVER, With folks that have been frozen she connects with a lot. How it's scary that you've been frozen for so long when your entire belief is to change and evolve, how (if Mal Du Pays is anything to go by) they had to fight their own demons in there, how everything can change so easily without you even noticing- It's terrifying to think about.

Actually- a while ago I made battle sprites with Nil- I wasn't happy with them so I never shared them BUT

Specifically I wanted to contrast her frozen sprite with everyone else's- Cause if she were to SOMEHOW be frozen again, knowing what it feels like, what could happen while she's out- It would TERRIFY her instantly. Not just a mild shock or surprise, it would stick with her for a while-

Speaking of battles tho-

Nil is super brash and lively as a whole. She puts up a brave face for a LOT of things, including fighting. She jumps in without really thinking, and as long as it goes their way, she'd have a smile on her face doing it.

However, while brave, it does come from both a place of coping and naivety. She's not used to genuine fighting, in fight or flight situations she actually tends to flee. (Which is why honestly, if she had to fight the King I don't think she could do it-)

If a battle were to start going south, she'd actually start to panic more then anyone else- Physical wounds and seeing the people she loves hurt would lower her accuracy and general capabilities, despite the brave face she puts on.

And due to her lack of experience, especially in bigger groups- Nil tends to... miscalculate sometimes

She had to learn the hard way not to just jump at any opportunity she sees. The party can see where Bonnie got it from (also after the battle Nille proceeded to heal Sif, profusely apologizing, I forgot to doodle that whoops-) (Also gameplay wise, imagine every second turn she does an action of her own without your command)

Also just the Sif image by itself cause I liked it :]

As for chores and stuff-

She does foraging and stuff! Honestly I don't think the other 5 would have done so before they traveled together.

Mira would have most DEFINITELY learned about it but didn't feel confident in her abilities. Bonnie will grab stuff they think is edible from what they remember Nille telling them and they'd grab a stick to cook. Odile would not be interested and would prefer buying the ingredients rather then wild scavenging. Isa doesn't read to me as a biology student, I see him more of a math history type of guy, so either he doesn't know, or him and Mira did it occasionally together, but only as a last resort type of deal (maybe when it was just the two of them and they had to manage alone) And Sif in my mind is an accident prone goober who'd forget which ones are edible and which ones aren't so I wouldn't trust him personally.

SO! LONG STORY SHORT! I don't think any of them are really experienced with foraging. And as a means to make money management easier- I imagine Nil (nature being a passion of sorts to her) took up the mantle! Probably taught the rest how to do it too!

That's it when it comes to stuff specific to her- Other then that she's kind of ready to help out with anything! She can help set up tends, do odd jobs for money, help cook if for WHATEVER reason Bonnie wanted her to or wanted to do something else in that time, bring water, wood, fish, help with weapons- She's not the best at those things, but if anyone needs a hand to be lent- she is there!

I'll be entirely honest, I don't think I understand your last question- But I do wanna say that Nil and Isa become like. Best buds real quick. He is the first one she instantly trusts, since she rivals with Mira, is prickly with Odile and Sif is someone she wants to help rather then ask for help. So if she needs someone to turn to, or needs a partner in crime- Nil would turn to Isa And now I just imagined Mira and Nil bonding over how to grow plants. Cause Mira tried REALLY REALLY HARD and couldn't do it, so Nille would actually love to give some tips- Imagine Mira genuinely walking up to her with a little alive plant with a proud glint in her eyes and have Nil fully support her- Honestly I could keep going for forever, I have so many thoughts on her and her dynamic with everyone- Bro I even have nicknames, you don't even know-

BUT I'M GONNA CUT IT HERE, HAVE FUN, I'VE BROUGHT SOME FOOD FOR NOW-

#isat #isat spoilers #in stars and time spoilers #only cause of mal du pays tho honestly #in stars and time #isat nille #isat sif #isat mira #isat petronille #in stars and time nille #in stars and time petronille #lord give me strenght (its 5am I am not awake-)

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diettwistup · 2 days

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HALF OF YOU

PAIRINGS: tashi duncan x f!reader, art donaldson x f!reader, patrick zweig x f!reader

SUMMARY: No matter how bright Tashi Duncan shined, her best friend, Milan Mikaelson, wasn’t far behind. Though seeming second best, Milan would never let that define her career. Holding as much fame as Tashi, Milan encountered Patrick Zweig and Art Donaldson. Would this encounter change the trajectory of her life, and would it completely alter her relationship with Tashi Duncan?

WARNINGS: challengers spoilers, reader is milan mikaelson, sexual situations, language, angst, plot alterations.

WC: 3.9K

NOTES: hey y’all!!! so excited to be posting the first chapter of this story. manifesting my edits are all good LOL. enjoy! 💋

READ BEFORE THIS: INTRO

____________________________________________

CHAPTER 1: INTRODUCTIONS AND EMBARRASSMENTS

US OPEN TOURNAMENT- 2006, 2:00 PM

Sitting down on the hot bleachers, I put my sunglasses on and adjusted the braids in my hair. Sucking on my teeth and brushing my fingers across the hem of my uniform skirt, I let my eyes gaze at the large crowd of people accumulating.

Damn Tashi, you always know how to make a bang.

Crossing my arms and softly laughing, I let my mind wander back to my match yesterday.

I had lost to the girl who would be playing Tashi for the championship. I really don’t know if that was a good or bad thing. On one hand, I lost from a bad call when I was so close to the end. On the other hand, I wouldn’t have to battle my best friend and get absolutely decimated, as she would say.

As I continued to lose myself in thought, two boys, blonde and brunette, moved through the growing crowd and sat in front of me.

You’re kidding me.

Patrick Zweig and Art Donaldson—the “fire and ice” duo—had just won their doubles match, if I’m not mistaken. How could I be when their trophies were sitting right on their laps?

There's still a ton of seats open, and they choose to sit here?

Rolling my eyes and crossing my arms, I pushed my sunglasses up, waiting for Tashi to come out.

Staring at the door to the locker rooms, I clicked my tongue in boredom before grabbing the tournament pamphlet to look at everyone’s stats.

“Don’t you wanna meet Tashi Duncan?”

My ears perked at this as I put the pamphlet down and narrowed my eyes at the brunette boy.

Whoever said eavesdropping was a bad thing…

I had to hold in my laughter as they began to talk about Tashi and how she was the entire package. Telling her this later would be the highlight of my week.

“What about Mikaelson, you know her?” Patrick asked as he slung his arm around his companion.

I froze at this and tilted my sunglasses down to better see the two of them.

“Of course I know her. Have you seen her play? She’s fucking hot.” Art added with a smirk as he attempted to whisper, failing miserably.

My face heated up at this as my eyes narrowed at the boys.

Do they not realize the person they’re talking about is behind them?

“Agreed,” Patrick started as he pulled his friend closer. “She’s also got a fat ass.” He laughed as Art chuckled along with him.

Gag.

Closing my eyes and pretending I didn’t hear that, I heard cheers and claps from around, signaling that Tashi had come out of the locker room. The chair umpire immediately began to talk about her stats and how she was the best female player in our division.

I happily clapped as I beamed at my friend, her eyes scanning the crowd and locking with mine, a large smile playing on her features.

“Fuck, did you see that? Tashi Duncan just smiled at us…” Patrick exclaimed in awe as he pushed Art in the chest.

“Shit, I missed it.” Art complained before leaning back and adjusting himself in his seat.

I almost had to cover my mouth to hide the vomit that was about to let loose.

Dumbasses.

After a few minutes, Tashi’s match began, of course, in her favor. Everything was perfect: her serves, backhand, line receives, counterattacks, and every single step she took.

I smirked widely as I watched Tashi decimate the bitch who, unfortunately, decimated me.

Patrick and Art watched Tashi in awe for the first ten minutes of the match while commenting on how amazing a player she was.

I snorted at this, wondering how long it would take to notice who was sitting behind them.

On the next serve, Tashi’s opponent hit the ball out, but the line umpire declared it as in.

Standing up immediately, I pointed a finger and yelled at the top of my lungs.

“What?! Come on, Tash, don’t take that shit!”

Everyone else agreed with me as the crowd began to roar in protest of the shitty call.

Lost in the moment, I hadn’t realized that Patrick and Art had turned around and stared at me in horror and awe.

“Oh,” I started and took off my sunglasses. Did I yell in your ear?” I looked between them before looking back up at Tashi.

“Fuck, you’re-“ Patrick started in a slightly panicked state before I cut him off.

“Milan Mikaelson? Yeah, I’m guessing you two know me.” I spoke with sarcasm as I kept my eyes trained on Tashi and her opponent.

Caught.

“Shit, I’m real sorry for what I said, I-“ Art started before I placed a hand on his shoulder to stop him, eyes still not leaving the game.

“Don’t sweat it, was too focused on the game to give a damn.” I lied straight through my teeth as I pretended to act nonchalant.

I could feel both of their eyes staring long and hard at my hand lingering on Art’s shoulder before I took it away to throw my hands in the air and yell as Tashi locked in another point.

“Come on, Tash!” I yelled and clapped with the roaring crowd, boys still looking back at me.

Sighing, I crossed my arms and looked back down at them. “Take a picture, it will last longer,” I spoke in annoyance before sitting back down and putting on my sunglasses.

All I could hear were muffled whispers and attempts to counteract my statement before they turned back around and shared we’re fucked looks.

Stifling my laughs, I angled my eyes back to the match.

As Tashi continued to hit the ball effortlessly for the rest of the match, her win came almost naturally.

Standing up and yelling, I quickly ran down the bleachers, feeling two pairs of eyes following me. I stood against the fence and clapped loudly while Tashi caught my eyes after her victory yell and smiled widely at me.

I jumped up and down with all the fans cheering with their signs and matching t-shirts.

Running around the court to thank everyone for coming, Tashi came over to me and grabbed my hands.

“Tashi! I’m so proud!” I yelled and bounced on my heels, extremely happy with my friend's success.

“My biggest fan.” She smiled and reached over to hug me before letting go and continuing to thank everyone.

Smiling proudly at her, I pushed my braids behind my back and took off my sunglasses. Turning around, I looked back at the sea of people cheering for Tashi before my eyes landed on two figures.

What a mystery those two are…

I smirked proudly at them as their eyes shifted between Tashi walking back to her locker room and myself standing by the fence.

Patrick leaned over to Art and whispered something as their eyes darted between us. I could only see Patrick's smirk and Art’s growing grin at his friend's words.

Snorting to myself, I turned around and put my sunglasses back on.

“Fucking morons…”

—------------------------------------------------------

ADIDAS BRAND PARTY - 2006 8:00 PM

“Tashi!” I exclaimed as I weaved through a crowd of familiar and influential faces to ambush my best friend.

I could see her bright smile miles away as she turned to meet me at the edge of the dancefloor, engulfing her in a hug.

“Milan, I was wondering if you weren’t coming.” She laughed as she wrapped her arms around me and returned my hug.

Pulling away, I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms. “Tashi Duncan, my best friend, thought I would miss out on this?!” I questioned as I gestured to the bustling party. "You must be crazy if you think I would miss out on anything that concerned you and your tennis career,” I snapped at her with a knowing smirk.

“I’ll have you know I was late because my mother insisted on making me change ten times.” I rolled my eyes and tilted my head to where our moms were conversing. I stuck my nose up and closed my eyes, annoyed at the memory of how nagging my mother was when getting ready for the party.

Immediately, she raised her hands in defense and raised an eyebrow. “Sorry, Miss Mikaelson, didn’t mean to assume.” She laughed before crossing her arms.

I watched her expression change slightly as her eyes softened and lips parted.

“I watched your match yesterday,” she said, lightly treading. “I’m sorry about the loss.” She finished and brought a hand to my shoulder, rubbing it gently with a sad smile.

Flashes of my match fluttered back into my mind as a small pit formed in my stomach.

I shrugged this off and took up a carefree attitude, whereas my insides were screaming.

“It was a shitty call, what can I say? That bitch had and has nothing on me.” I smirked and made sure not to falter, but secretly, the loss had internally crushed me.

Tashi laughed, brought her other hand to my shoulder, and bent down to level our eyes. “Don't worry, I decimated her for you. Plus, at Stanford, the both of us will be fucking up bitches right and left.” She shot a cocky smirk at this as I gave her one back in turn.

Stanford. The next four years of my life with Tashi Duncan would be the ultimate dream.

Right?

I extended my pinky to Tashi with a slight wink. “Promise?” I bit my bottom lip and smirked at this familiar gesture between us.

As long as I can remember, Tashi and I have made over a hundred pinky promises. Our first one involved her letting me borrow her Barbie doll while we played house and my promise to return it. Since then, it’s been a norm between us.

I felt the confidence radiating from Tashi’s grin as she moved her right hand from my shoulder to interlock our pinkies.

“Promise.” She repeated and swung our interlocked pinkies back and forth.

I laughed like a child all over again before quickly raking my eyes across the entire party. As I scanned the crowd, I let go of Tashi’s pinky and leaned in to whisper.

“Lots of important people here, I see,” I whispered as Tashi’s eyes followed mine.

“And familiar faces too…” She responded in a lower tone, angling her eyes to an older man by the beverages.

“Shut up!” I gasped before looking back at Tashi. “Is that Mr. Reynolds?!” I asked in shock at seeing our fifth-grade English teacher.

“Yup,” Tashi responded, standing straight as she crossed her arms. She studied the older man as he scanned the beverages offered. “He was always my favorite,” she quipped, not needing a huge explanation for why he was here.

At this, I burst out into laughter, as did she.

“I thought he died years ago.” I clutched my stomach before placing a hand over my mouth and muffling my small laughs. “Wait, that’s not nice. I mean, I thought he passed on peacefully years ago.” I corrected in a serious tone as I watched the older man before glancing at Tashi and bursting into laughter again.

As I laughed with Tashi, I felt a burning feeling on the back of my head.

Was someone staring?

Wiping my eyes carefully to avoid messing up my makeup, I slowly turned around and almost froze as I locked eyes with the person, or should I say persons, staring at Tashi and me.

Oh, hell no. Is that who I think it is?

Quickly, I turned back around and whispered to Tashi in a hurried tone.

“Tash, is that Patrick Zweig and Art Donaldson?” I looked her in the eye as they narrowed at the mention of the “fire and ice” duo’s presence at the party.

“Oh yeah, they’ve been staring all night.” She smirked and looked between the two of us. “Frankly, I don’t blame them.” Her smirk grows even wider, mirroring the Cheshire Cat.

Biting my lip, I remembered my earlier encounter with the two tennis players. I shuddered as I remembered their smirks and remarks about Tashi and me.

“Tash…” I said warningly, pointing my perfectly manicured finger in her face. “Please tell me you don’t have one of your ideas in mind.” I slightly scolded her, studying her face to see what she was thinking. “Those two are complete and utter idiots.” I continued as I shook my head.

She wrapped an arm around my shoulder and whispered back as she lowered my finger and sucked on her teeth. “Do you really need to ask this?” She questioned with an air that spoke obviously, are you stupid?

“And believe me,” She started and moved to fix the straps of my dress. “I know exactly how they are…teenage boys.” She snickered wider at this as I rolled my eyes.

I huffed loudly before grabbing a piece of my hair to fiddle while I groaned. “But Tash, it’s our summer before we go to college. No boys.” I retorted as the music in the background got a little louder.

Grabbing my hands, Tashi dragged us to the middle of the dance floor and forced me to dance. “First of all,” She started as she twirled me around, “This was never a pinky promise.” She spoke, wrapped her arms around my neck, and swayed us to the music.

Fuck, she got me there.

“Second of all,” She continued before touching my neck to untangle my necklaces while swaying with me. “I know you’re internally drooling over Art Donaldson. He’s exactly your type, and he’s going to Stanford.” She laughed to herself as she worked on my necklaces.

Fuck x2 can’t deny that.

I rolled my eyes and turned away, knowing I couldn’t argue either of those statements.

“You’re crazy…” Was all I could protest.

Untangling my necklaces, Tashi clapped and smiled brightly at me before putting her hands back on my shoulders. “This is gonna be a great start to the summer.” She grinned like a mad woman as we kept dancing across the floor.

After dancing, mingling, and trying not to focus on the two hard stares hitting Tashi's and my head for the entire night, I decided to go to the beach.

“Hey, Tash, I’m going to the beach for a quick breather. If my mom asks, I’ll be down there. Come down if you need anything or if I miss something interesting.” I smile gently at her while I take my heels off.

“Got it. Be safe.” She waved before going to get pictures with her family.

I smiled at her before walking to navigate the path to go down to the beach, pretending not to notice the two pairs of eyes following me.

—------------------------------------------------------

10:00 PM

I wonder how long I had been down here listening to the sweet waves ripple against the hot sand. I almost feel as if the ocean is calling me.

Imagine the escape of living on a secluded island where nothing mattered. Not school, not tennis, and not the future.

Especially the future.

Staring at my newly manicured nails, I continued to get lost in my thoughts while the ocean rang in my ears.

Shit, I’m over everything.

I reached a hand up to my mouth and began to bite one of my nails.

Do I even wanna go to Stanford?

Practically gnawing at it, I can feel the acrylic wearing off.

Doesn’t matter because I’ll be with Tashi… right?

SNAP

“Fuck…” I muttered to myself as I broke off a nail, leaving a tiny bit of blood seeping from my nail bed.

Rolling my eyes, I held onto the broken nail and rested my head on my knee as I watched the ocean.

“We’re not interrupting, are we?” I heard a deep voice ask behind me, making me let out a small yelp and nearly fall off the rock.

Quickly turning around, I was met with two, unfortunately familiar, faces.

Why now?

Patrick Zweig and Art Donaldson stood before me, shoes in one hand and cigarettes in the other. Frankly, I had no idea which one spoke, and I had no care to know at this rate. I wanted to be alone with my thoughts, and they disturbed that.

“What the fuck,” I explained as I stood up from the rock and patted my dress down. “Do you know how rude it is to sneak up on someone?” I crossed my arms and narrowed my eyes as I looked between the two boys sheepishly standing before me.

“Shit, really sorry, didn’t know you were here,” Patrick spoke up as his counterpart dropped his cigarette from his lips upon seeing me study his stature.

Bullshit.

“Hm, okay, well, I’ll be going then,” I exclaimed, irritated, as I bent down to grab my heels. “I hope you two have a grand time.” I sarcastically quipped as I went to walk past them and go back up the path to the party.

“Wait,” Art, almost panicked, stood before me with a lopsided grin as he flicked his cigarette bud beside him and treaded lightly as he motioned to the chairs near the rock I had just occupied. “We’d love it if you joined us, just for a chat.” He had a genuine smile on his face now.

Are they serious?

Before I could open my mouth, Patrick beat me to it as he walked to sit in one of the chairs Art motioned to.

“Yeah, just to talk. You're one of the best players in our age bracket, and it would be a real treat to get to know you as an apology for what happened earlier.” Patrick added and smirked so wide I could feel pure smitten radiating off it.

They are serious.

Both boys were now staring at me, gazes identical in pure amazement, awaiting my response.

Fuck this. Fuck me. Fuck x3.

Sighing softly and crossing my arms, I dropped my shoes, returned to the rock, and sat down.

“You get five minutes,” I spoke curtly as I looked between the boys, waiting for one of them to speak up.

Art took this chance to open his mouth, but before he could begin, I held a hand up to stop him.

“Oh, and there’s no need to introduce yourselves. Art Donaldson and Patrick Zweig, the “fire and ice” duo.” I spoke unenthusiastically, keeping my eyes on Art for a little longer before angling my expression to Patrick.

Both boys stared at me with slight smirks as I adjusted my dress and grabbed a piece of hair to play with while they continued.

“Well, Milan Mikaelson,”

I inwardly shuddered as he spoke my full name.

“During your match, I thought that call was fucked.” Patrick spoke up and got right to the point. He laughed as if he remembered it as a fond childhood memory.

Almost instantly, Art chimed in to add to his friends' thoughts, a bit too eager for my liking. “I mean, that Anna girl could barely serve your entire match, and then that?” He stated as he shook his head, acting like he was scolding my opponent to her face like a coach.

My eyes lit up at this. They knew how to crack me. Bring up my pride and losses, and I’ll talk your ear off for hours.

“I think the official was blind because that bitch’s ball was totally past the line,” I explained matter-of-factly. “Did you see the way he hesitated before calling it? He probably had it in with her.” I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms in annoyance at the memory of the loss.

“Still, you were fucking amazing out there. How did you get your backhand to be that powerful?” Art quickly added and leaned forward in his chair as if moving closer to me would allow him to understand my words better.

I let a slight smile adorn my features as I studied his position.

Fuck x4.

For the next four minutes, the three of us talked about tennis and our matches throughout the tournament. Though brief, I could quickly tell how these two relied on each other and their sport. It was definitely the glue for their friendship. I could also tell how they hung onto my every word, like a toddler waiting for his mother to let him out of the time-out-chair.

Checking my watch, I stood up and looked between the boys.

“Though this was fun, your five minutes is up.” I flashed my watch at them with a subtle smile before bending down to grab my shoes.

When I bent down, I could hear some rushed scuffles and whispers. Standing back up, I saw that both boys were also standing, very tense, might I add.

“How can we contact you to do this again?” Patrick asked with a smirk, which I presume was a signature for him.

Raising an eyebrow at him, I crossed my arms and looked between him and his blonde companion.

“Who said I wanted to do this again?” I asked as Patrick shoved his hands in his pockets with a defeated grin while Art let out a muffled chuckle.

“Come on, this was fun.” Art added and took a cautious step towards me. “Can we get your number?” He asked as he studied my face with the cheekiest grin he could muster.

I laughed at his question dryly before pointing my finger between the two boys. “We? You think I’m gonna get between this? Hell no.” I replied, walking past them to the stairs and back to the party.

Immediately, I could feel their eyes staring into the back of my head, and I wondered if they would beg or plead.

They better not.

“Come to our hotel,” Patrick yelled, making me whip my head around. “We have beer,” he grinned once he saw my interest somewhat piqued.

Fuck x5.

“It’s not far from here. We can talk more.” He gestured between the three of us and then pointed up to the party.

This made me look back to the party, about to question what he meant before Patrick chimed in.

“We talked to Tashi earlier and told her the same thing. Would be fun getting to know the beautiful golden tennis girl duo.” He chuckled as I watched his eyes flicker from my face to my lips.

This made my face heat up, but I would never reveal that. Teenage boys don’t deserve the satisfaction of knowing they have any sort of effect on me.

Clicking my tongue, I nodded at this new piece of information.

Tashi did say she had a plan in place. This could be fun.

“Maybe,” I replied as my eyes shifted between the boys.

You’re not easy, Milan Mikaleson. Remember that.

“Depends on my mood.” I finished and shot them small smirks before walking back up the stairs, not giving the boys a moment to retort.

As I walked back to the party, my eyes shut as I felt a headache coming on.

What the hell did I get myself into?

#challengers #challengers fanfic #art donaldson #art donaldson x reader #patrick zweig #patrick zweig x reader #tashi duncan #tashi duncan x reader #zendaya #mike faist #josh o'connor #fanfic #best friend relationship #romance #challengers movie #challengers 2024 #challengers x reader

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foreingersgod · 1 day

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Pls pls something about emily engstler where the reader ( they can be friends at the beginning) keeps staring at her tattoos especially on her hands and emily catches her

Tattoos . EE

pairing: emily engstler x reader

A/N: i’m thinking let’s stay home pt 2 next??

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

“what’re you staring for?” a familiar voice sounded from across the couch. it was so sultry, so smooth. you couldn’t help that your body was drawn to it instantly.

it was a normal day, you and your girlfriend tucked away in the comfort of your home for the weekend. she had had a rough week of intense practice and you had a draining week of work, so the both of you decided to take some time to relax. but it was a dangerous game for you, emily within your reach at all times. she was practically irresistible and you found yourself gawking at her nearly every chance you got.

she was quite literally the hottest person on the planet in your eyes. her hair, her body, her lips, her eyes…everything about her made you crazy. but your favorite thing about her, that made you want to pounce on her at any given moment, are her tattoos. you really couldn’t explain it, why you were so drawn to them. the intricate designs that littered her skin just had some sort of grasp on you, had you drooling like a teen girl over her high school crush. you would squeeze your thighs together in desperation as you’d watch her hand run down her face, ink ridden fingers mindlessly tracing the outline of her lips. god the things it did to you. how her muscles would flex when you’d watch her work out, your eyes glued to the way the tattoos moved with them. everything she did, you’d be admiring the beautiful works of art.

emily wasn’t quite aware of your fixation with her tattoos. rather she knew you liked them, but clueless to the near obsession you had. she never caught onto the stares or the amount of times you’d trace them with your fingernails when you’d lay in bed at the end of the night. she had always figured you’d liked them just like any normal person would. so you would continue on with your infatuation, let yourself indulge every now and then without her noticing.

until now.

“hm?” you blinked rapidly, shaking yourself out of a daydream.

your legs were draped over hers as you laid horizontally across the couch, your head rested against the cushioned arms of the sofa. emily was running her hands up and down your shins aimlessly, making little imaginary drawing here and there. she was scrolling on her phone to pass the time and you were sat there, just looking. for the past, probably 10 minutes, you sat there watching her. watched how her tatted fingers glided smoothly along your skin. watched how they moved effortlessly. it was hypnotizing to watch, getting lost in the print on her fingers. you couldn’t lie, you were getting hot and bothered just thinking about those fingers.

when you had emerged from your fantasies, finally looking over at emily, she was already staring back at you. her phone now discarded somewhere next to her and her gaze glued to you. her fingers had stopped tracing and she had one eyebrow quirked at you in curiosity.

“you’ve been staring at me for like 10 minutes” her head tilted to the side, she was so damn cute “everything ok? is something wrong?”

“m’not staring” you pursed your lips. now it was your fingers, fiddling senselessly out of nerves. you were too embarrassed to admit that you’d been caught.

she just chuckled, tongue running along her bottom lip. her hand rose up to scratch at the back of her neck in amusement at your poor excuse of a lie.

“come on, baby” her eyes still shooting daggers into you, eyelids low but still alluring and intrigued “don’t lie t’me”

“i’m not, honest! i don’t even know what you’re talking about!” you scoffed playfully, hoping she wouldn’t pry any further. but you knew she would. she always did.

“i’m talking about how the whole time we’ve been sitting here you’ve been eyeing me”

“i have not” you emphasized even more.

“oh really?” she said, and you nodded in return. she leaned in closer to you and you watched as her eyes flickered down to your lips and back to your eyes “then why is it that every time my hand reaches your thigh your breathe catches in your throat?”

if your breathe wasn’t hitching when she was touching you, it certainly was now. she looked so divine, practically hovering over you just to tease you like this. you wanted to be mad at her for making you feel so humiliated, but how could you when she was so tempting.

“talk to me,” her voice lowered to a rasp “you know exactly what i’m talking about”

unable to handle the heat, already feeling the blush creep onto your face, you sighed in defeat. you bit your lip and squeezed yours eyes shut as you tried to think of the right words to say. how does one say your tattoos make me want to tear off your clothes and take you right here, right now without sounding like a freak?

“it’s embarrassing, emily. don’t make me say it”

“you don’t have to be embarrassed around me, baby, s’ok” she was met with a moment of silence as you groaned in frustration “why were you staring?”

“your…” another sigh fell from your lips, you were at a loss for words “your tattoos”

“my tattoos?” she smirked “what about them?”

“they’re just so, i don’t know, attractive?” your body cringed as you said it. you tried to avoid her gaze to ease the shame you felt, but you couldn’t help but catch how her smirk formed into a toothy grin “like…god this is so stupid…like they just look so good on you and you look so fucking good all the time. and i just can’t stop looking at you, em, i’m sorry”

with a new found confidence, you continued “your fingers, just the tattoos on them…oh my god emily you have no idea what you do to me. even when you’re just sitting here i can’t resist you”

“wow” she breathed out, lips curled tauntingly “can’t resist me, huh?”

“shut up”

“no no” another laugh fell from her lips. but this time it was soft and relaxed, not seductive to try and coerce some confession out of you “it’s cute, babe. you shouldn’t be embarrassed”

you just rolled your eyes at her, part of you still irritated that you were put in such a position, but another part of you relieved she didn’t mind.

emily let her hands fall down to you legs again, palms flat against you. you could feel the slight callousness of her skin. they pressed into the plushness of your thighs gently as they agonizingly crept their way towards you. she kept her eyes on you, eyelashes low, lips slightly parted. your mouth fell dry as her hands approached the bottoms of your shorts. her fingers toyed with the hems, then eventually pushing their way past the loose fabric until she was met with the silky skin of your hip just under your shorts. then, with little warning, she let her head lower down to your neck. her breathe was hot against you as she let her lips attach, kissing along your body. you gasped upon feeling the sudden sensation, your hands flying up to the back of her head in an attempt to brace yourself.

“all this over some tattoos?” she whispered into your neck “baby…you’re killing me”

“will you be quiet and just kiss me?” you blurted, unable to handle the built up tension.

“anything for you”

and with that, her lips were on yours in an instant. your bodies melting into each other as she showed you just how much she loved you with those damned tattoos.

#wcbb #wcbb x reader #washington mystics #indiana fever #emily engstler #emily engstler x reader #wlw #wlw imagine #lesbian imagine #lesbian #foreingersgod

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paperbackribs · 1 day

Text

tags: steddie, nsfw, the homoeroticism of knowing you could treat them better

🥵🍆💦

"Okay," Robin smirks at Eddie as she pops the open button on the microwave in Steve’s kitchen, "But you understand how pathetically gay you sound right now, yes?" She pulls out a fragrant paper bag of popcorn; she says that she likes to have an extra bag before retiring after one of their movie nights.

Eddie scowls, forgetting that Steve's in the next room as he becomes revved up over a pet peeve that is less pet and more a wild animal, "It's not gay to appreciate a work of art." He gestures wildly, the lights above catch on his heavy silver rings, "It's not gay to understand that a sweet, beautiful boy is tragically unloved."

Robin snorts, pulling open the edges of the paper bag, releasing a plume of buttery steam, "No, pretty sure that's pretty gay. Next thing I know you'll declare 'no homo' while sucking his dick."

"I'd suck his dick better than Brittany or Betta or Betsy or whatever her name was," Eddie declares, sore at the memory of Steve's broken brow as he'd explained that his latest date had ridden his face and then gave him a pat on his shoulder, explaining that it was a nice time but not to expect a callback.

What an idiot, Eddie fumes to himself, neglecting to notice the shifting shadows in the hallway behind him; who doesn't enjoy a man who vehemently and vocally declares his love for going down on his partners? Eddie would kill for a partner willing to suck him dry.

Eddie may have blamed the deficiency on the female of the species, but Steve had allowed Eddie in the inner sanctum a few months ago: letting him know that it wasn’t only Robin and Eddie who were vehement friends of Dorothy, even if it was only Steve who enjoyed the full spectrum of the rainbow. And while B-whatever-her-name-was may be the source of Eddie’s ire right now, he knows that Steve has had likewise lousy luck with men whenever they’d ventured for their weekend nights out to Indy.

Each and every time Eddie had to endure Steve’s sad face a week or two later as he’d admitted that he thought his night’s partner may be up for more than just a brief bit of fun. And each and every time he’s been left dumbfounded because—

Eddie pulls at his hair, trying to work it out because—

Well. He can only imagine that every single person that’s walked away from Steve’s beautiful lips couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn with a fucking canon with the intelligence left over in their little pea brains. Because Steve Harrington is a goddamn catch and every one of them has let him escape their grasp.

Eddie’s too busy scowling down at his Reeboks to see Robin look over his shoulder and softly laugh. She scoops a handful of popcorn into her mouth as she swiftly leaves the kitchen, calling out, “I’m claiming the spare bedroom tonight—the one at the far end—see ya.”

Eddie looks up at the last minute, wondering at her sudden exit.

The air shifts again but Eddie doesn’t realise it until Steve’s right behind him. "Her name was Bella," Seve says in a low caress, close enough that his warm breath rustles Eddie's loose curls.

He stops, frozen, the touch of Steve's words making Eddie ache for something that he's wanted for such a very long time even as he’s unwilling to allow himself to think that Steve could mean anything by leaning in so close. But he can’t help but shiver, a tiny movement that brings his lips against Steve's sharp jaw, nearly stuttering, "Who?"

Strong arms wrap around him, bringing the broad planes of Steve’s chest against Eddie’s back, blunt fingers coming up to grip his jaw, directing Eddie’s lips to just under Steve’s.

Eddie freezes again in desperation, every single fantasy converging at once to break his brain and body while he tries to understand that the arms, hands and fingers wrapped around him are not an invention of a daydream.

"I’m saying,” Steve says patiently, eyeing Eddie with a dark gaze over his firm grip, "That I want you. Not Brittany or Betta or Betsy."

Eddie swallows around the knot in his throat.

"Just you," Steve repeats, a steady weight holding down his words that has Eddie’s gaze flying up to meet the hard pressure of hazel eyes bearing down on him. A force that has Eddie’s heart knocking heavily against his ribs, his breath shuddering against his frame, pressing taut and bullying against the thin of Eddie’s skin as he meets Steve’s expectant gaze.

And suddenly Eddie is angry.

Furious.

He’s had to endure weeks and months of listening to Steve be sad. Listening to Steve tell of glum exploits where women and men haven’t appreciated his freely-given love. Where it hadn’t mattered how quickly and devotedly Steve would put himself forward, that his partner would pat him on the back and distance him or herself after.

Eddie is furious and he glares at Steve’s beautiful hazel eyes, so close to his own and suddenly wide at the clear fury in Eddie’s eyes. Steve stumbles back, “What…” But Eddie lowers himself decisively, knees falling to the ground with a clear thump and thighs spreading as he knows with a deep conviction that he’s finally interpreting Steve’s actions correctly.

He looks up with dark eyes and presses into the tentative hand that falls against Eddie’s nape; Steve’s brows pull together, doubt drawing at them, “Eddie…”

Eddie glares up at Steve with all the strength of emotion running through him like the swift currents of a river. “No Steve, that’s it. That’s fucking it.”

He determinedly wraps his fingers around the zipper of Steve’s Levi’s and, as Steve chokes out his name again, Eddie glares up at him, daring Steve to take his prize away. “No, I’m done. You’ve given me permission now. You’ve given me a sliver of hope, and you’re not fucking taking it away.”

Eddie swiftly draws down the zipper, pulling down denim and soft cotton until Steve’s already hard cock bobs in front of him and he reaches forward quickly, hand already at its base and mouth open as he’s about to swallow him down but Steve’s hand buries itself in Eddie’s curls, gripping him tight.

“Do you want me?” Steve breathes and Eddie somehow finds it in himself to glower deeper, scowling up at Steve while refusing to speak. Inching forward until the tip of Steve’s cock hovers over Eddie’s open mouth. Steve curses and a heavy pearl of fluid drops from the tip to Eddie’s outstretched tongue. Eyes closing in contentment, he hears Steve choke as Eddie almost hums around the welcome flavour.

“Right,” Steve rasps roughly before pushing forward to rest against Eddie’s lips, he traces the heavy beads from his weeping slit against the petals of his mouth, breath running ragged before pressing further.

Eddie gasps, stretching his lips wide and pushing in and forward to embrace the cock intruding his mouth. His lashes flutter as he finally has the heavy weight of Steve’s cock resting on his tongue, stretching his mouth obscenely open before peering up to check where Steve’s at.

He needn’t have worried because Steve’s own mouth is hanging open with eyes darkly trained on Eddie. “So fucking pretty,” Steve gasps, gripping Eddie’s head to pull him closer. Choking Eddie as he moans, “Yes, fucking, yes, baby. Take it.” And Eddie does. Gratefully. Happily. Fucking swallows and devours and pistons back and forward until the bitter musk dripping from Steve’s dick is greedily consumed, taken within.

Steve cries out, throbbing powerfully and pouring into Eddie. Spilling and overflowing, fucking against his face until beads flood and stream out of his mouth. Eddie lets out a long, guttural and broken sound, grateful for the blessing that Steve fills him with.

He’s so consumed with the feel of Steve in him, surrounding him, that he barely registers the hardness in his own black denim until Steve drops to his knees too, meeting Eddie face to face before falling forward, fingers working his zipper open and mouth swallowing him whole.

Eddie gasps at the sudden sensation of the hot welcoming cavern of Steve’s mouth. He bucks, lightning shooting up his spine and overwhelmed at the attention as he thrusts once, twice and another before shuddering as he releases into Steve’s warm embrace.

Gasping, Eddie’s head falls forward to stare down at Steve in wonderment. In clear awe as he stares down at the beautiful boy in his lap. Mind blissed but still a niggle worries at the back of his mind, enough to have his hand reaching forward to Steve’s face, cupping his cheek and bringing him up to meet Eddie.

“Sweetheart,” the endearment drops from Eddie’s mouth without his permission.

Steve’s lips tug up, spreading in a grin and widening his eyes, “You want me, don’t you?” He asks, almost breathless.

“Yes. Fucking yes.” Eddie has nothing but honesty to his name at this point.

Steve smiles. Smug and fucking so proud of himself. He leans forward, “Then take me,” he whispers.

And Eddie does.

❤️ More steddie here

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #paperbackribs writing

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brailsthesmolgurl · 1 day

Text

PUPPY LOVE?

Preview: You had always been the apple to their eyes. How would they express their affection towards you in highschool?

Warnings: I had to make it slight-slight-slight angsty hehe, teeth-rotting fluff for comfort for my beloved readers <3 btw readers and the boys are highschool kids in this one-shot so no suggestive or anything!

P.S: This idea came to me in the middle of the night and I knew I had to burn the midnight fuel to squeeze all of my brain juice for this piece :> Enjoyyy!

RAFAYEL

You lifted your head up when you heard a chair dragged against the tiled flooring. It came to a halt and down sat the lilac haired fellow, right in front of you, his chin propped on the back of his hand as he leaned down to look at you, a smirk hung on his thin lips. Rafayel. "Someone looked like they had a nightmare yesterday."

"It's none of your business." You furrowed your eyebrows, gaze turned towards the classroom door. More classmates are starting to walk in, greeting each other good mornings and immediately getting into their daily routines of catching up or gossiping. You, on the other hand, do not really belong to any 'gangs'. You find solace within your own bubble and occasionally, do hang out with your only friend, Tara.

The purple haired individual in front of you frowned, your answer unappealing to his taste. This young man sitting in front of you is the lucky charm of your school, and almost everyone dotes on him, headmaster, teachers and students alike. Both of his parents are renowned artists, comparable to Van Gogh and many other artists throughout history books and as expected, Rafayel inherited the same talent as his parents. Rich, handsome, charming and talented, he is basically a girl magnet.

"You do not have to be so rude you know." He stood up when he heard his name being called. Reaching into the pockets of his blazer, he took out two cheese sticks and placed it onto your table. "Here, have this. Your frown makes you look like a shriveled up prune. Some cheese sticks would probably do well for you." He chuckled teasingly and stepped out of your personal bubble, heading out of the classroom.

If glares could kill, you would probably be laying on the floor motionless by now. The cheese sticks that sat at your table were attracting unwanted attention from the girls in your class. You had absolutely no idea why Rafayel would always approach you. The attention you are receiving from him does not beat the attention other girls are getting as well, not that you cared but you just find it odd. A lone girl getting so much attention from the school's celebrity, what would the others think of it? Maybe he is just trying to be friendly. That always remains the reason to your question.

Here comes the other question. You do not think you like him, but why does your heart flutter whenever he is near you? Bidding you good morning and goodbye had became a part of a routine for the both of you. Why would your heartstrings tug whenever you find another girl initiating skinship with him? Why?

*＊✿❀○❀✿＊*

Rinnnggggg. The bell rung, indicating the end of another school day. Students rushed out like ants out of the school premises, flooding the empty hallways. You packed your things, eyeing the time displayed by the clock. 3pm. It is the perfect time for you to go to the art room to practice some drawing. You may not be an artist like the talented Rafayel, but you still do have your own fascination towards drawing and sketching.

You walked in the direction opposite of the flow, passing through the crowd like a fish trying to swim upstream. As you were nearing the art room, someone knocked you over and you fell backwards, with your bagpack being your cushion as you landed back first onto the floor. You still winced upon impact. "Oh look, it's Rafy's pet." The girl that knocked you over crossed her arms, her blond curls tied up in a high ponytail. Oh, it's the school's flower girl, Jarianne, but you guessed it. She is nowhere carrying the aura of a flower.

Sighing, you pushed yourself off of your back, not even having the thought to fight back. "Know your place would you?" Jarianne spoke, studying her oval shaped painted nails. "Rafy might give you cheese sticks every once in a while, but that does not mean anything. Don't get your hopes up, okay sweetie?" Huffing a smile, the mean girl strutted off, leaving you calculating your next steps.

Shrouded with anger, you got up and made your way towards the art room. You are ready to splash some paint onto the canvas, wanting to express your anger in a much more 'healthier' form. She was right. Who are you to be engaged with Rafayel. Someone who is a loner like you should not be in any way associated with someone of such a high status like him. You are halfway at being disappointed at yourself until you slide the door opened and you saw Rafayel in the art room.

He looked ethereal, basked in the warm light of the sun in the midst of a cloudy afternoon, his lilac hair slightly tousled on his head. His back was facing you, but you could tell with the way his paintbrush moved across the canvas with grand gestures, he is painting yet another masterpiece. Part of his uniform, the dark blue blazer and white collared shirt was messily tossed onto one of the desks nearby, and he is left in his black t-shirt. Right when you are about to leave, his head snapped around and he caught sight of you standing in the doorway with beady eyes. "Finally, you're here." Framing himself to be waiting for you this whole time. Well, he was.

"I'm... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bother you." You consciously tucked a stray strand of your brunette curls behind your ear, your face immediately turning red when you realised that you may have taken a bit longer then usual to be staring at the young man. "I'm gonna go." You turned and immediately started jogging down the hallway.

"Wait! Wait!" Rafayel called out for you, yet, you did not bother to turn back. All you could hear was the sounds of chairs creaking and a loud thud, followed by hurried footsteps.

You turned a corner and slid yourself into an empty classroom to catch your breath. When you sat yourself down, the door slid right open and Rafayel presented himself, huffing and panting as he bent himself down to slow his breaths. You were shocked of course, that he would run down the halls for you. Jarianne's words rang through your head like an alarm and it filled you with more regrets.

"You should stop talking to me." You clenched your fist, standing up, getting ready to leave. "We are not friends to begin with, so we should keep it that way." When you walked past him, he gripped your wrist and you gasped in response. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Do you actually..." He took in a huge breath and straightened his posture, now eyes meeting yours. "Are you actually so naive?"

"Look, I don't know what you are trying to do Rafayel, but I am not interested in whatever you are going to say. Just leave me alone." You pulled your wrist out of his grip but it only prompted him to hold your wrist tighter. "Leave me be!"

You slipped, and he grabbed you by your waist, underestimating the strength of his before he stumbled backwards and you ended up pressing him against the wall. The both of you had the same expression, widened eyes and flushed cheeks. Tension immediately started pumping into the air, causing your body to tense up. "Are you upset?" He broke the silence between you two, leaning down closer to you to inspect your face. "I had never seen you getting so mad before."

MAYBE. JUST MAYBE. A part of you do like him, you liked that he would only greet you in the morning and when you leave home, you liked that he would offer to teach you art anytime you wish, you liked that sometimes he would ditch his friends just to come and sit with you during recess. But, Jarianne was right. You always have this part of you that refused to accept the fact that you do indeed, like Rafayel. Just like all of the other girls out there. It's just that you are nothing special at all. You will be regarded as any other fan girl of his.

Hesitation laced in your voice. "I just don't think someone like you should be spending time with someone like me Rafayel." Your gaze dropped, feet shuffled against the floor beneath, watching the dust particles flying up into the air.

He clicked his tongue, but remained still. "You have not answered my question. Why do you think I go out of my way to talk to you everyday hmm?" Your silence was met with the continuation of his thoughts. "That's because I like you, y/n."

Your breath hitched in your throat when he confessed to you and you nervously took a step back to put more space in between the both of you. "Don't." His arms snaked around your waist and he reeled you in, nose tips almost touching. It took you a while to only realise that Rafayel is red like a tomato, the confession of his happen to be genuine afterall. His blushing expression is a sight to behold. Just like in a watercolour painting, all of the colours are harmonised, his purplish, tousled soft curls that sat on top of his head framed the outline of his carved facial shape well, with scarlet red lightly dabbed across his pale cheeks, giving the illusion of his eyes sticking out like magenta gemstones on a iridescent rubicund-white marble complexion. "I really do like you y/n."

"Why?" That is the only question you can mutter out of your mouth. You sounded dumb for a second but you would like to find out what he deemed special about you.

You can sense his nervousness when his eyes started darting everywhere and his arms withdrew from your waist. "I...You're...Uhm..." He is clearly struggling with his words. "You are different. You do not find the need to please me or to catch my attention." His words were spoken slowly and precisely, calculated even. "I like you because of the way you are, y/n. You are not like the other girls. Sometimes, when I look at you, I wanted to sketch a drawing of you, but I couldn't, because that's how alluring you are to me. No drawings could achieve that."

The way he phrased his affection towards you, was nothing of confidence but only of his vulnerability. Five years throughout his secondary days, you always regarded him to be the embodiment of confidence, carrying himself well has always been a gestalt of his. But today, you do not find that in him, all you see is this young man stumbling over every single word, self-doubt equivalent to yours hinted in his tone. He does not see himself to be worthy of you, just like you do not think you are worthy to him. The thought of it ached your heart.

"Rafayel. I...I never knew you liked me." Reaching your hands up, you patted his shoulders awkwardly, not really knowing where to position your hands. "I thought you just wanted to tease me and push me around like a plaything."

"The audacity to say that." He scoffed, face scrunched up like a shriveled prune he had mentioned to you earlier. "I don't like keeping the people I like as pets or any derogatory words you may think of, you know?" The sight of you holding onto his shoulders, eyes widened made him smile, one of his hand lightly patting the top of your head. Rafayel notices the way your lips would wobble the slightest when you tried to alleviate your own anxiety, convincing him further that you do possess the same feelings as him. He only has to figure out how to make you believe that he is not messing with your feelings and how to not escalate this sweet moment into a dramatic and awkward mess. "I don't want you to be accusing me of something so lowly anymore, yeah? Promise me?"

"But... what would people say when they see..." You gestured between the two of you, head already coming up with all sorts of accusations that would be thrown towards the both of you. "Us together? I don't want to trouble you..."

"They can say anything, but we can treat it as nothing y/n." He ran his hand down to your cheek, cupping your small face in his palm now, your face slowly warming up in his palm. "In the end, I chose you. It is only right for them to be jealous." He smiled leisurely, confidence resurfacing again. "So, would you date me y/n?"

Gnawing onto your lip, you nodded your head and looked down. You had only seen this in romance shows, where lip kisses are supposed to happen after confessions do. But you felt his soft lips collided against your forehead and your heart released sparks of fire uncontrollably. You are screaming internally as if you had won the lottery. As he pulled back, you raised your head up to glance at his facial features. Rafayel is beaming, hand still placed on the side of your cheek. As if it was cued, he managed to answer your question before you could even ask. "I will not kiss your lips until you allow me to, yeah? I will always wait until you're ready, as I respect---"

Wrong question, but does not beat the fact it was relevant to what you were initially going to ask him. Something along the lines of ‘whether are we going in for the kiss’. You decided to act upon your decision. Closing the short distance between you two, you planted your lips onto his, swallowing his uncertainty to fuel your bravery for the upcoming challenges you will have to face for being Rafayel's girl.

ZAYNE

"So, for this experiment, find someone you can pair up with to write a report based on your findings." Miss Akko instructed, placing the chalk onto her large wooden desk and scanning the crowd for any blank slates. "If you have any questions, you can always come and find me for consultations."

You looked towards the guy sitting next to you, Zayne. Ballpoint pen held in between his long fingers, gliding swiftly against the paper to create a neat yet slanted handwriting. Altough the class had ended, you could tell that he is still very much in his zone, jotting down whatever the teacher had mentioned earlier. If he could record it, you believe that would be the most viable way for him to stay on top of his grades all of the time. His posture relaxed when the last bell of the day rung. "Hey." You called out to him and he turned his head to face you. "Would you like to pair up? For the experiment?"

You had paired up with him for a few times for chemistry class. Being with the smartest kid does earn you a few perks, but he is not much of a talker so sometimes doing assignments with him would result in a crow-cawing awkwardness. "Sure." He nodded his head once and started gathering his reading materials into a pile while standing up.

Zayne has always been a man of a few words. Nodding is his most useful reaction whenever you ask him of something that he is borderline interested in. But if he does not agree with you, then he shall give you the stare that would make you question yourself about the absence of an answer from him. "When do you plan to do---"

"I will see you after class tomorrow." He cut you off, zipping his bag up and pulling it over his broad shoulders effortlessly. "Remember to bring your brain." OOF, COLD. It most likely explains why nobody would usually pair up with Zayne. More like he just refuses to.

Zayne was best known for his good looks and big brain but other than that, he does not have an appealing personality that makes him desirable among girls. Good to admire from afar but not good to interact with. Ever heard of the trend 'He is a 10 but...' . Yeah, that is Zayne's title trend. Only to people who has been in close contact with him. Yeah, he could be a dick with how straightforward he is but you find it as an admirable trait of his. He stabs people with his words, with truths that nobody would dare to say and maybe, you do secretly like him for the way he is.

“Come on Zayne, it’s not like I don’t study or help out with the reports for the past few times.” You rebutted, palms faced upwards and eyebrows knitted closely together. Zayne stood in his spot, expressionless face hiding his amusement. “So I do have a brain!”

He turned towards the direction of the door and started making his way out, not without giving his last statement. “Says the one who can’t even score a decent C grade.” There you stood, in the empty classroom, choked onto the curse words that you were about to throw at him when you heard his statement but you are sure with his lanky legs, he would have been out of earshot by now.

*＊✿❀○❀✿＊*

TAP TAP TAP TAP… Your footsteps echoed in the empty hallways, reverberating through the empty classrooms. You were late for the meeting with Zayne because you had forgotten to bring your lunch to school today so you ended up having to run down to the vending machine to grab some quick bites. The machine however, betrayed your trust, the ultimate cliche move anyone can think of putting into a filler clip for a movie, when the snack gets stuck during the retrieving period purely because of the vending machine error. You could have easily gotten in trouble if anyone were to spot you with your whole arm shoved into the machine just to grab the item you had literally paid for.

The door slammed open with force and you were greeted with the sight of Zayne in the classroom. With a girl bent halfway down right next to him. You recognised her immediately, the long blond hair with forest green eyes, milky pale skin with a smile that could make anyone faint upon seeing it. She is the school’s student president, Nyla. The both of them perked their heads up, reacting to the sound of the door being slammed opened only to see you standing in the doorway, face flushed from the heat, holding onto your snacks in your hand. “Hey y/n.” The student president grinned, her pearly whites nearly blinded you. “Do you mind giving us some time? We have some personal matters to settle.” Not only does she look pretty, she has a pleasing attitude too? Just great. Pursing your lips, you nodded and went out the same way you came in, sliding the door closed behind you in a more polite manner this time.

“I still can’t believe that you are working on an assignment with her.” Nyla huffed, pushing her hair back with her fingers as she bent down next to Zayne again, staring at his notebook. Nyla had initially wanted to meet up with Zayne regarding the discussion for the upcoming school festival that will be held but eventually, she turned it into her personal chat session with Zayne. “Is she a freeloader most of the time?”

“No.” Zayne replied. “She does her part as I do for mine.” Zayne, at this point had already caught note on what Nyla is trying to do. Provoking a conversation out of him when he is late for the initial assignment arrangement with you bothers him. “I think you had already gotten all of the answers you needed for the school festival.”

“But, I would like to get to know you too.” Nyla sat herself onto the side of his desk, manicured fingers fanned herself in an attempt to cool herself down. “Say, how about we try to go out for a little bit hmm?”

The raven haired young man did not even spared her a glance, eyes focused on his handwritings. “Zayne, come on. Smarty pants with a cute face like you dating me would be the talk of the school for weeks to come.” The pitch of her voice heightens at the end of her sentence and Zayne sighed in frustration. Closing his eyes, he took in a deep breath and exhaled.

“I am not interested in being your pawn.” He glanced at her and her smile faltered, alongside her confidence. “Nor do I find the necessity to feed into the delusions of yours.” The indifference shown on his body language gave her the conclusion she did not expected from him. Her pretentious ‘girl-next-door’ attitude no longer on display. The anger of a spoiled child who gets whatever they want seeped through and she raised her palm, ready to land it onto his cheek but he caught it right before it touches his cheek. “I wouldn’t do it to someone who believes in gender equality.”

Nyla withdrew her hand, strings of curse words falling out of her lips as to save herself from embarrassment and she left the classroom. The young man sat in the room, staring at the new page he had just flipped over on his notebook and he noticed the drawing of a stick man next to the page number. The stick man appeared to be holding onto the number 6 like a hockey stick and the 0 being reimagined as a puck. His lips pulled into a small smile, flashing back to the time when you tried to be sneaky when he was out of the classroom during one of your past assignment pairings, conducting this tomfoolery on his notebook and quickly returning everything back to its original position. But he saw it all, from the crack of the door when he was about to enter the empty classroom. He finds your childlike behaviour amusing after all.

*＊✿❀○❀✿＊*

“We are done talking.” You stared up, the blinding sunlight immediately getting shielded by Zayne’s opaque outline. You squinted your eyes narrower only to find that Zayne has his hand stretched out to you, given you are in a seated position. “We should get started on our assignment.” You took his hand and he pulled you up, the sheer size of his palm wrapped around your whole hand easily.

“Here.” You reached your hand into the pocket of your uniform and pulled out a small box of chocolate cookies. “This is for you. It fell out when I was trying to grapple for my sandwich.”

Zayne took the box into his hands, contemplating on the way you got it. “Did the vending machine got stuck again?” Your nod made him smiled a little. “If it gets stuck again next time, you can just ask me to get it for you.”

His sudden suggestion nearly made you choked on the last bite of your egg and cheese sandwich. It is hard to believe he would come out all of the way here to find you, let alone making small talk and telling you that you can ask him to solve your troubles whenever you please? But your dumb brain only believe that he was only trying to be helpful and he is merely thanking you for bringing him a snack. “So what did you guys talk about?” You could not help but to ask as the both of you slowed down your steps to be in sync with one another.

“She wanted me to go out on a date with her.” You were lucky you had finished your sandwich, or else this sentence would have sent you into full on choking mode. You did expect Nyla to ask him out to a certain extent given his popularity, but you were caught off guard that he was even willing to share the details about what had went on behind those closed doors earlier. “I told her that there is not a need to waste her time.”

Hm? You stopped in your footsteps and turned to look at him. “What do you mean?” Your lips had blurted out the sentence before your mind is in control and you swallowed the instant regret of the question. Zayne too, stopped in his footsteps and he looked at you, his hazel green orbs stood out more like a lush forest under the blazing sun above your head. When he took a step towards you, your heart lurched, eyes scanning the surroundings for anyone present.

“I already have someone on my mind.” Zayne closed the distance between the both of you. Within arms length, Zayne reached his right hand outwards and held your cheek. An immediate gasp could be heard, the pace of your heartbeat quickened, so as your breath. You could hear your own heartbeat in your head. It does not take a genius for one to unravel who he likes. You stood in front of him, drinking in his gaze that had softened for one of the very few times, and this time he did not snap his head away immediately. His thumb moved back and forth on your cheek, soothing the spreading redness that is a result of your realisation regarding his point.

Your eyes lit up and your jaw slacked, eyes frantically searching for a joke within his eyes but when you found no ill intention, you amounted to satisfy your curiosity. “Why…why me?”

His thumb slid down to your jawline, and stopped at your chin. Raising it up just enough for his eyes to be looking into yours and you gulped nervously when he closed the distance between the both of you. He smiled, lips tugged up slightly on both corners because all these while, he knew that the both of you have the same feelings for one another, but he just never really have the opportunity to be alone with you, till now. "You will find out soon enough." Leaning down, Zayne pressed his lips softly against yours to present his confession to you, stealing your first kiss away.

XAVIER

The countdown in your head never fails you. When the minute hand hits 12 on the clock, the bell rung, the teacher looked up from the book he was holding, glasses slid down his nose slightly as he realised his class period had came to an end. "Remember your homework kids. I will see you next week." He announced as the students all got up in sync, bowing and thanking the teacher for his teaching efforts.

As you landed your bum back onto your chair, you heard someone calling your name and your head turned towards the source of the sound. The blond bloke named Xavier sauntered over to you, his eyelids still half closed. "Hey, you going over for the fencing extracurricular later?"

"Yeah I am. Why?" You asked him nonchalantly, all while clearing your items off of the table and placing them into your bagpack. When you do not hear his response, your hands rested on your bag and you looked up at him, squinting your eyes. "Wait. You plan to skip it don't you?"

Xavier's eyes widened and his light eyebrows arched upwards. "What, no. I just..." His right hand reached up to rub the nape of his neck. "I just thought we could walk there together if you'd like."

Sighing in relief you smiled and nodded, pulling your bagpack over your back. You had forgotten to arrange the books you have to bring today hence the load of your bag became a deadweight and it nearly sent you rolling onto the ground. Xavier caught you on time before your face gets planted onto the tiled ground. "Careful. Here, let me help."

"Thanks." The blond young man easily took your bagpack off of your back, slinging it over the side of his shoulder that has his messenger bag hung onto. With the weight of fingerpads pressed against your arm, you flushed red when you realised that he had not released his hold on you. Catching your sight, he trailed it down to your arm and he released his grip, equally embarassed at how long the skinship lasted.

Truth is, you and Xavier are somewhat at the level of best friends. The both of you share the same classes and same taste for food, alongside same extra curricular activities. But recently, you started feeling more and more abashed around him. You would consciously want to look good in front of him; either it be tucking your hair behind your ears, chuckling gently instead of laughing like a troll, ironing your clothes to make it look pressed and neat. You are like becoming a whole different person just for him. But it is not necessarily for the bad.

*＊✿❀○❀✿＊*

Clank, Clink, Clank Clank. The sounds of the blades grinding against one another created screeches and clinking, which are not the right music for the ears. You sat a couple of meters away from the mat, eyeing Xavier clad in the metallic polyester jacket that is overlain with a thin, interwoven steel strands in between to provide him protection. Lamés is the right term for the protective gear on his torso. Gasps and mutters could be heard echoing in the huge hall, judgements and commentaries thrown around as the showdown between Xavier and his opponent has been relatively entertaining.

The whole nine minutes, both of the fencers has been extremely aggressive, parrying and lunging against one another whenever an opening is spotted. The race to land 15 touches on the opponent make it an extremely fast and deft sport. The both of them had equated to 14 touches each and this last touch would determine the winner. The referee stood in middle, arms raised midway to insinuate the start of the tie-breaker round. "Pret? Allez!"

The blades then ensued, waving in the air. "Halt." It was called out in two seconds and both of the opponents backed up, standing still in their spots. Your heartbeat thumped, the last you saw was the both of their blades touched both of their respective opponent's foil. It is hard to determine who is the winner. The referee was seen walking over to Xavier and he spoke. "Parrying then riposte, point-in-line is perfect and that forward extension of yours is worth the risk." He grabbed Xavier's arm and raised it, everyone in the hall cheered as Xavier removed his headgear and grinned, eyes landing onto you.

You smiled back, proud that he had manage to win the competition. You stood up when he walked off of the platform, wanting to congratulate him but Chiara beat you to it. "Xavier! You did so well!" The girl bounced over, her curls bounced to her footsteps' rhythm as well. "Oh my god, that was such a fight."

"Thanks." Xavier smiled and she grabbed him by his neck, throwing herself into his arms and you were stunned at her boldness. Xavier however, did not seem fazed as his arms raised up to pat her back. Chiara may just be an amiable individual but your mind abnegated that possibility and only opened its chamber doors to jealousy.

In a disconsolate, nervous manner, you turned and proceeded to walk out of the hall. Your heart thumped hard against your chest like booming speakers in an EDM concert. It also caused a lump to form in your throat. It hurts. Something about her just greeting and hugging him so casually made her wonder why did he never told you about his girlfriend before? He is already mysterious enough but at this point, it felt like a betrayal to you. But then again, he does not owe you that favour to tell you about his dating life if he does not wish to say anything.

Finding a cosy corner next to the herb garden that belonged to the Plant Society, you sat down at the side of the curb and amused yourself with the view of butterflies twirling around blooming flower petals. Amongst the weeds, Magnolia blossoms are most of the denizens found within the small patch of ground. Time passed by, perhaps around a couple of minutes and you heard hurried footsteps in the background but you were too engrossed with the butterfly landing onto a magnolia's carpels that you did not bother to turn around.

"Y/n." Xavier called out. "I had been searching everywhere for you." You turned your head slowly, stopping with only half of your face visible to him. "Did you noticed me winning just now?" "Yeah I did." You pushed yourself off of the curb, dusting the dirt off of your dark skirt and you faced him, gaze catching his chest rather than his cerulean orbs. "In fact, I saw Chiara went up to hug you." Your pout although not shown, it was obvious to Xavier. You are jealous.

He stepped forward and wrapped his lanky arms around you, pulling you into his chest. You were bewildered. In his arms, feeling his warmth spreading to your body and his scent swathed you, he smells like clean sheets and a bubble bath. Perhaps from his change of clothes. "I'm sorry." He spoke, breath batting against the nape of your neck. "I should have rejected her hug right then and there."

"It's okay Xavier, I didn't know you have a girlfriend." You were quick to address your hesitation, ready to take a step back from him but his hold around you tightened, not allowing you to leave his arms.

"She isn't. She isn't my girlfriend, y/n." He slowly pulled back, arms now moved to rest on your shoulder. For a moment, a gleam of wary was ready to surface but Xavier was quick to put out that emotion of his. "I don't think of her anything more than a friend. Unlike you."

Confusion clouded you like a misty apparition above your head. "What about me?" Your index finger pointed towards yourself. "What do you mean by 'unlike me'."

"I like you." His gaze unwavering, genuine intentions full on display. "I had liked you for a very long time y/n." Your jaw dropped to the ground almost instantly. You were not expecting this to happen at all but look at how fate has presented itself. Xavier smiled, his angelic smile akin to his divine features. He would have been mistaken to be an angel if you did not know that the halo around his head is the sun peeking out from the back of his head. “And I think I would very much like you to be my girlfriend instead of her.”

Your eyelids blinked rapidly, eyelashes just a few more blinks away to cool down the redness in your cheeks. As a reflex, your hands flew up to your mouth to mask your excitement, your lips probably pulled into a grin that stretches to both ears. “I…I…” Your stammering further betrayed your feelings and Xavier leaned down, supple hands held onto your wrist and he pulled your hands down, finally being able to see your shyful expression.

“Seeing you like this makes me very happy y/n.” He cupped your cheeks softly, tediously brushing the pads of his thumb across your cheek and he leaned in, planting a kiss onto your lips to officially make you his girlfriend.

Hope this fluff makes your day my lovelies! <3

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #rafayel love and deepspace #zayne love and deepspace #lnds #xavier love and deepspace #fluffy #rafayel x reader #zayne x reader #xavier x reader

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diejager · 1 day

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I have a fucking insane idea based on a DnD thing I saw once lmao. So basically, if someone went through an immense amount of trauma, it could sort of manifest into another being used for self defense. This being was literally only limited by their imagination. It could be a damn house cat or a fucking dragon. It was basically an extension of their body that was a result of a dangerous or traumatic situation. It could help with other tasks as well, but its main purpose is defense. I need to see the men react to this, I’m begging

Monster au. Plz

~🧋

Cw: trauma, inaccurate magic, tell me if I missed any.

They were familiar with all kind of magic. Be it Old Magics and Magiks, enchantments, hexes, curses, dark arts, and everything known to the world, yours was…. peculiar. Quite peculiar for a person without any ties to a magical lineage or prior knowledge of powers. You were just a normal human - as normal as you could be with all your fearlessness towards monsters and hybrids alike - with a few unique perks and qualities, but a human no less. You weren’t any different from your parents, your extended family or any friends. A mortal with soft flesh, resilient and persevering, wild imaginations and genial abilities to adapt and conquer, and yet, were so, so fragile.

They hadn’t expected it, with Farah - the only witch they personally knew - tied to Alex by the hip and always on the move, their repertoire of magical knowledge was lacking. So, there was a mass of confusion between them, one that made understanding your strange ability difficult, but not impossible. They had Laswell’s help to sift through all existing records, some confidential, hidden under red tapes and confidentiality regulations, and others public, open to any curious eyes and prying noses.

The black Maine Coon that seemed to follow you, her lumbering figure and elegantly, curled fur that stood out among patches of grey and military green and browns of the base brought many questions, but all shrugged away at the mere sight of those piercing green eyes, vibrant lime that seemed to glow in darkness. She could light up the room with a single glance. It was as odd as it was menacing, and she was fiercely protective of you, shadowing your steps, curling her tail around your leg, laying on your lap when you sat and glaring at anyone who tried to approach you.

A spirit animal someone had commented, a guardian in the shape of a cat another had hushed. She was all speculations and would stay that way until someone found out more about your Maine Coon, or if someone grew a pair and actually asked you rather than treating it like a secret mission conducted behind your back. A mystery to resolve, a like game they thought it be amusing to play until you found them out or someone gave up after grueling weeks of hitting a brocade —a dead end.

It was fun and all, at least while it lasted. They felt like they were so close to figuring it out by themselves - pride and ego, you’d cackle. You’d have a field day laughing at them for them, then praise them for holding out so long - and Soap went out and begged for an answer.

“I was wondering when one of you would crack,” you smiled, running your fingers through her fur, brushing away knots and tangles, “Took you longer than I expected.”

You had known of their investigation, but never spoke up. It riled them up, a thrill at finally being given the knowledge they’re hungered for, an adrenaline that pumped from their hearts to know the answer. And you stalled, teasing them with the pretty curl of your lips, taking all the time you needed to have them squirm in their seats and hang at every word that fell from your mouth.

“She’s a… trauma response, of some kind. I don’t really know how or why, but she just appeared one day while I was recovering. I was confused,” you laughed, nuzzling her scruff when she sat up to lick your chin, “Really confused. But I did some tests, experiments out of sheer boredom and discovered she came from my mind- or a product of it.”

“Your mind..?”

“You know humans have vivid imaginations, as physically unfortunate we are, our minds are a… strange thing, and she came right out of it.”

“So she could be… anything?”

You threw your head back, pulling her up in your arms as if she was the lightest kitten ever, your smile so wide it was infectiously making them smile.

“Anything that my mind can conjure up.”

Taglist: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @angelcakes-22 @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @im-making-an-effort @love-dove-noora @jinxxangel13 @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @mul-pi @danielle143 @beau-min @makayla-666 @urfavsunkissedleo @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @luvecarson @petwifed @randominstake @heartelysia @jggykhug09090 @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @call-me-nyxx @sans-chara @cod-z @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @thigh-o-saur @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami @cassiecasluciluce @sobbingnshtting

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tobiasdrake · 2 days

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Here we go. It's time to talk about my personal fave. As I said before, this is my Main. In Dragon Ball fighting games, this is the character I seek out to play whenever the roster allows. Also arguably the character who's been done the most dirty by just about every form of Dragon Ball, manga included.

The vanguard of a brand new status quo and a brand new direction for what Dragon Ball would even be, washed away by the tides of a status quo resetting to zero.

We're here to talk about the champion of Satan City who carries the spirit of Dragon Ball in her heart: Videl.

(And that is one cookie to @jcogginsa who guessed it.)

Videl was a kid with a chip on her shoulder. I mean. How could you not be? Her father was the legendary world martial arts champion who famously defeated Cell seven years ago.

Don't pay attention to that. He just tripped for a moment. Once he got his second wind, he came right back and showed Cell what for! It was due entirely to Mr. Satan and nobody else that the Earth was spared from the apocalyptic horror that is Cell.

Look, he even said so himself.

Are you gonna call that man a liar? The man who defeated Cell!? I think we can trust Satan's word over yours.

This is the shadow that Videl grew up under. Raised in what had previously been called Orange City, but was renamed Satan City in honor of the world's greatest hero.

Or "Hercule City/Herculopolis" in the versions that edit out Satan's name.

As his daughter, Videl has a perspective on Satan that neither the world nor the audience gets to see: He's a womanizing playboy who cashes in on his world-savior fame for booty.

He also forbids his teenage daughter from dating by putting up the stipulation that any boy interested in her has to be stronger than him, the world champion - A stipulation naturally designed to weed out any possible suitors through intimidation. Wanna date Videl? FISTFIGHT THE MAN WHO DEFEATED CELL.

Oh, but he doesn't teach her a goddamn thing; At least, not anymore, as she does suggest there was once a time when he was her mentor. She's forced to study martial arts entirely on her own because her dad is utterly disinterested in her development in the art.

This is an angle on Satan we never get to see onscreen. Apparently he's pretty shitty about women. You know, I can believe that.

Videl, when we meet her, is trapped in an unenviable position as a martial artist. She hates what the fame of being a legend has done to her dad and wants to knock him down a peg, but she has no foundation to develop her abilities from. The one man who's supposed to be teaching her isn't doing it, and she's been passively discouraged from pursuing more esoteric martial arts because the world champion said that stuff's all fake.

Videl makes for a fascinating foil to Gohan, because they're both children living in the shadows of legendary fathers.

Gohan is expected to be Goku's successor, but wants to live a peaceful life of academia. Meanwhile, Videl is being denied the ability to become Mr. Satan's successor, but craves the opportunity to prove herself.

Nonetheless, both of these kids are prodigies. Videl has a wealth of potential. She doesn't even realize that, despite these limitations, she surpassed her father long ago. Despite being a self-taught teenager with zero comprehension of ki cultivation, Videl hones her skills and developers her art the only way that's available to her: By punching it out with armed robbers in the region.

Backpack Town isn't even her city! She's a one-woman SWAT team for the tri-state area.

As ambitious and driven as she is, Videl is also clever. The anime extrapolates the adventures of the Great Saiyaman into a several-episode arc as Gohan deftly avoids detection by Videl over and over again, but this has the knock-on effect of depriving Videl of one of her best moments.

Because she pegs him instantly. She was already suspicious of Gohan being the mysterious "Golden Warrior", when he tried to use his Super Saiyan form to disguise himself as a superhero.

Which also showed that she was open-minded about the other people who fought Cell. Satan says they were doing a bunch of tricks, but Videl's willing to consider the possibility that there exist people who can turn blond on command.

And then Gohan did this shit.

Because he was raised in the woods by the devil and Goku. Despite trying to keep a low profile, he has absolutely no idea what the baseline for ordinary human ability is.

So. Y'know.

That's pretty fucking suspicious.

Which brings us to Gohan's second outing as Great Saiyaman, and his first meeting with Videl under his new identity. Whereupon she, uh....

Plays him like a fucking sap. It's a great moment that doesn't get its due if it takes several episodes and misadventures for her to reach this point. Videl is exceptionally skilled in the field of paying attention to that time Gohan jumped thirty feet in the air and naturally drawing conclusions from it.

And also his voice and posture and other dead giveaways. Gohan sucks at secret identities.

He's just. So obviously Gohan. There's no way anyone would be fooled by this.

But she's not only adequate at seeing things with her eyes; She's also a legitimately brilliant martial artist in her own right. Due to her upbringing, she's had zero experience with ki cultivation for obvious reasons.

And yet she's talented enough and smart enough to pick up the basics of Bukujutsu in one day.

Oh, don't mind her; That's just Videl making a mockery of Tsuru-senryu by effortlessly devouring their signature technique. This is Goku's first Kamehameha all over again.

She may have started small but Videl learns fucking fast. She has all of the drive and the ambition that Gohan lacks. She wants to be part of this world, she has a ravenous hunger for self-improvement, she's clever and observant, and she picks up concepts insanely quickly.

Videl is fucking primed to be a key player in Dragon Ball's next generation.

...

So now we need to talk about what happened to Videl.

Videl has one major fight in the entire series: Her 25th Tenkaichi Budokai bout against Spopovich.

Which she absolutely dominates. She's stronger, better, and faster than Spopovich. Even the experienced martial artists agree that she's infinity times better than him in every way.

But there's something wrong with Spopovich. He's a decent martial artist, far from the top; He'd competed in the 24th Tenkaichi Budokai and made it through the qualifiers, but was eliminated in the first round. So, y'know, he had no chance in hell against Videl; She's already surpassed Mr. Satan, who won the 24th legitimately.

Uh, by virtue of none of the Kame-senryu or their rivals attending. Mr. Satan is top dog of the same weight class as Pamput from the 22nd.

But, despite being outclassed in every category, Spopovich is also a dead man walking.

He's similar to the Androids in a sense. Spopovich has no ki signature at all, nor does he get worn down by the damage he's taking. This is Vegeta vs. 18 and Piccolo vs. 17 all over again; He isn't feeling the pain from the hits she's landing on him, and so he's able to outlast.

But Spopovich isn't an Android. He's more like a zombie?

At one point, Videl cuts loose and breaks his goddamn neck. Because he's pushing her hard enough that she realizes she needs to go harder, but his body can't take harder. He isn't a match for her. He just. Isn't going down despite not being a match for her.

He can't take this level of force. But he and his ominously vacant absence of ki can put his head right back where it was and continue the fight, no problem. That's honestly scarier than if he'd regenerated.

Also despite not even having the barebones ki signature of a normal person, Spopovich can perform Bukujutsu and fire ki attacks.

Which a fighter of his meager ability shouldn't even be capable of.

All of this adds up to an unwinnable fight for Videl and the setup to... Something. This match has been criticized pretty heavily in the fandom because it gets pretty gruesome and doesn't have a payoff.

We've seen fights go fucking bad for our heroes before. Piccolo once broke all of Goku's arms and legs as well as shooting a hole in his chest, right here in this same arena.

But it's typically building to something. When our heroes get trashed, it's the lead-up to a reversal down the road. Maybe in the same fight. Maybe in a later one. And we seem to be heading in that direction?

After Spopovich and Yamu leave the tournament, we get VIdel a Senzu and she's right as rain.

Spopovich and Yamu steal energy from Gohan and fly off to Babidi's Ship so they can awaken Majin Buu. Kaioshin recruits the various protags to make that not be a thing that happens. And then. Something switches in the narrative flow of this arc.

You can feel it happen.

As our heroes prepare to pursue Spopovich and Yamu, Videl volunteers to join in as well. She's had her eyes opened to a whole new world or possibilities and is hungry to develop her abilities.

And. Then. One chapter later. It's suddenly decided that Videl will not be a part of this storyline after all, and she basically leaves the plot forever.

WHOOPS! Never mind! Didn't want this character here after all. Go home, Videl.

While her adversary Spopovich is unceremoniously unwritten from being a thing that exists.

Babidi just. Kills him. For no reason. Even though his job isn't done yet. Babidi's like, "Oh good, you collected a fraction of the energy we need; That's fine, you can be fired. I don't need anyone to finish the job."

We're just. We're not telling that story anymore. We already threw Videl in the trash; we don't need her nemesis. We're doing a different thing.

Also, because we still have too many characters in this scene, Dabra erases Krillin and PIccolo with magic spit that never comes up again or is meaningful in any way.

You'd think this would be, like, setting up something? Like. Having witnessed it ahead of time, Gohan's able to figure out something about the way Dabra's spit works. So when he fights Dabra in a climactic battle, he can turn this around.

Like when Goku was able to counter Tenshinhan's Taiyoken/Solar Flare in the 22nd Tenkaichi Budokai, because he'd seen it before and understood how it works. That's usually what Dragon Ball does with this sort of advance notice of opponent abilities.

But. No. The most this ever comes up again is that it momentarily costs Gohan one of his gloves. It's just here to winnow down the cast because Toriyama brought too many characters to this scene.

You can feel the burnout taking hold. As janky as the Android arc was, the Buu arc's level of jank is through the roof.

And that became it for Videl. Denied any sort of payoff for her one fight and instead relegated to background character, Videl never got a chance to live up to the intriguing potential she was introduced with. She was the face of a new direction for Dragon Ball, a direction that ended up strangled in its crib as the series reverted to old ideas and old formulae - strangling her along with it.

Videl is a character I look at and can't help but wonder what could have been. What could have been if Gohan got to keep his focus, and Videl got to remain a key player in a story about him? What could have been if we got to see Videl developing her skills at the same fever-pace that she learned Bukujutsu with? What could have been if she got that rematch with Spopovich she seemed to have been promised by the narrative, and then got to stay involved throughout the Buu arc?

But I guess we'll never know.

#dragon ball #dragon ball z #videl

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laweema · 22 hours

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Your Joy Ang style drawings look amazing! Do you have any advice for mimicking it?

HOW TO JOY ANG STYLE

Hi there! Yes I have. I will advice everyone, who want co mimic Joy's style, firstly to watch her speedpaints on her youtube channel. ( https://www.youtube.com/@JoyAng ) And watch her other arts, at her site - http://joyang.ca/artwork/ You will need to analyze how she works.

Earlier I didn't get it right away because I didn't quite understand it, but now I know some things:

1. Joy Ang makes a rough sketch of the entire drawing, and then colors it

2. Joy Ang first draws the works with a line, sometimes even on paper

Added my Kinkajou without color to the block

3. Then she creates a base layer under the line

4. Then (not always, but as I understood in most cases) merges the fill and line layer into one and begins to work with color and shades, pipetting the colors from the sketch (I'm saving the layers with the line just in case something goes wrong) Use the "transparency lock" to stay within the bounds of the fill !!!

5. For dragons with lots of scales, like Kinkajou, personally, I first work with the color under the line and only then merge to make light on the scales, otherwise I will smear them all

6. Joy paints with STROKES, very very small strokes, which may make it a little difficult to work, but then the work will be more like Joy Take a closer look!

7. Joy often, but not every time, draws a very contrast line of light next to the contour in her work

8. Her line is not smooth! It's textured!

9. The backgrounds in her works are a great example of working with contrast. Almost all of Joy's backgrounds are very light, sometimes almost white against the background of the characters. This is in order to highlight the character and focus attention on them.

10. Very important! Joy sometimes neglects anatomy in order to create an eye-pleasing picture, here's an example - flowing lines in her drawings, yes, dragons do not have a pelvis, but their body turns very beautifully and smoothly twists. I would compare this to animation, where the characters also usually have smooth, pleasant features.

Bad for anatomy, but great for stylysation!

11. And I think it should be said that her work is full of color, so don't limit yourself to "white and black" by painting light and shadow.

So.. That's it! You will need practice to completely repeat the style, try to study Joy Ang's work yourself, and make some small drawings first to get used to the style, good luck!

#wings of fire #wings of fire art #wof #tutorial #joy ang #how to draw #wof art

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nyatbinary-81 · 1 day

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@vulpixisananimal sifstem art jumpscare!! more specifically i got bored and decided to mess around with sif and mal's outfits.

#my art #this is how I think theyd present themselves either in person or in headspace. the slouchers <3 #sifs outfit is simple; the boots i always give them (but with star laces for funsies); loose sweater; simple pants #the pants are Meant to be jeans but isat doesnt Specifically Have Jeans so. theyre just Pants.#the sweater is slightly looser bc sif doesnt seem like a Form Fitting Clothes kinda guy to me but hes Trying to be more open #on particularly good days theyll roll the sleeves up or wear a sleeveless one methinks #even if everyone Knows abt the self-harm scars its hard to Look at them.#i also associate them being more open with them not wearing an eyepatch. esp bc hes the only one of the three to go without it #for mal (or 'ami' as i like to call it) i wanted smth reminiscent of a mourning outfit bc mal du pays means homesickness #and i picked 'ami' as a nickname bc ami means friend :] at least according to my basic translator. i dont speak french <3 #ami's outfit being dark is also reminiscent of the inversion thing its got going on in canon.#ik the veil is starred in the original but i think ami would want the fewest reminders of home. on account of The Issues #(actually if i can come back to sifs laces sif also has issues with reminders of it bc of the memory loss but the shoelaces are His Choice—#—which gives them a form of control over it and they can keep it subtle or undo it if he wants. which makes it easier)#anyway. i put amis hair in an updo and smoothed the hat bc i think ami wants to be Unremarkable. Unknown. so it keeps its silhouette Simple #(it still keeps the pins. theres smth comforting abt them. they shine like stars and theyre not stars and theyre not Home. but theyre You.)#and i kept the long hair i gave loop. dont ask me why its so long when the canon hair is short. maybe their hair kept growing over the loop #OH and i drew ami in a side profile bc Silhouette and also bc i think itd make an effort to keep people away from its blind spot #andddd i think thats about it? plus i actually managed to keep this one within a reasonable timeframe.#if their hair changes lengths/the proportions change between drawings. no they dont 💛 peace and love and body craft #OH AND YOU FINALLY GET TO SEE WHAT I MEAN ABT SIFS BOOTS BC THESE ARE THE BOOTS I GAVE THEM ON MY REGULAR DESIGN ARENT THEY NEAT #i did actually try to give sif a different font but nothing Works for them like the pixel font. i cant explain it.#i think 'ami' would be a nickname that mira gives it. bc. shes Fantasy French. and its a sort of 'youre more than your yearning/loss' thing #me every time i think abt sifstem: yeah they just rotate in my head. nothing major #me every time i talk abt sifstem: oh hey im almost at tag limit again #au Good what can i say

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loupy-mongoose · 1 day

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In recent weeks, @puzzled-zebra got me into the anime (and manga) Ancient Magus' Bride.

Before I say any more, I want to say I've only seen the first season's worth so far! So please no spoilers beyond that!

I am far from being an anime enthusiast. I've tried a few different ones in the past, but very few stuck with me, and I've only seen one or two all the way through.

But AMB has gripped me hard... and I think a large part of that is just how many parallels there are to Jamie's story. I don't know if that makes me self-centered, but it's a story that feels familiar yet very different, and just makes me happy in its own right. Come for the parallels, stay for the beautiful art, charming characters, and intriguing story! ^w^

Anyway, I've made a couple artworks centered around AMB, but I'm gonna put them under a read-more for different reasons.

Some warnings for the below: 1; Painting of a semi-realistic canine skull. I feel like it could creep people out, so I wanted to be cautious about it. ^^ 2; SPOILERS for AMB; Season 1, Episode 8 and beyond of the Anime and the equivalent portion of the manga.

But before that, here's a completely safe page of Woolybug doodles~

AKA a Normal/Bug type Pokemon lol

I wanted to do a painting, and brain said it would be fun to try Elias' skull head.

It was very fun, but also... a pain... as you can imagine...

It's a painting of a panel redraw. :>

Context for this next thing (this is the spoiler part);

The person on the right, who is a black fae dog who's seen here in human form, is becoming the Familiar of Chise, the person on the left. Because it's a Magic Bond™, there was a whole big cinematic to-do around it.

It gave me a silly thought.

I feel like that bit can only be fully appreciated by AMB fans, but I wanted to include it anyway. X3

I've got half a mind to list out all the parallels Zebra and I have noticed, but that'll be a later project. ^^

#art #branch #Ancient Magus' Bride #AMB

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rise-deepseamonster · 11 hours

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I don't think any season will affect me as deeply as Bridgerton S2.

Ever experience that Anthony and Kate have with their family is a direct reflection of an older sibling's struggles to keep everyone together with only one parent half present, taking on the major part of the responsibility as the head of the house.

Starting with the scene where Edmund dies in Anthony and Violet's arms. It's a clear start of the divide between Anthony and his siblings in terms of being classified as "children". Violet tells him to keep the "other children" from not witnessing what he just witnessed, him having to take charge while he watches his only remaining parent fall apart in despair and anguish. Him begging her to get more involved with the rest of his siblings because he is so scared he is going to mess things up, so scared because he is not his mother and he is not his father. I wonder how many dinners he sat with the rest of his siblings after his mother refused to eat with them and made small talk with his siblings or sat in awkward silence. I wonder how long it took for him to master the small talk and eventually learn everything his siblings were up to so that he can talk to them about it and work in the shadows to make things better (like he thought he was doing with Benedict and the art school). All while trying to encourage his mother, listening to her wish that the baby had done her the kindness of killing her so that she could be with her husband. Watching his expression during that scene was particularly brutal:

Clearly trying to hang on by a thread as he listens to his mother's suicidal wishes and hope he will have a parent that lives to the next day so he wouldn't have to witness death and wouldn't have to be the only parent left for his siblings, because god help him, I knew he thought he was failing them by just existing and not being his father.

Then the birth of Hyacinth.

When he is asked of an impossible choice between his new family, his to-be sibling and his own mother, his parent, the only person left who is supposed to take care of him. He is not ready to see another parent die in front of him. But he sees his mother begging for her husband, begging for a choice in the matter, driven by pain and grief and sees the doctor calmly ignoring it and asking him. What does he know? He is a child, as his mother says. He wants his father too. He should also be in one of the rooms with his siblings, maybe soothing them and listening to Daphne sing instead of being demanded a choice of lives. He wants his mother to live another day because he cannot fathom the responsibility and the loss he will have to handle otherwise. He wants to demand that they save the mother, you can see it in his eyes but as he sees her begging for the choice, he makes the only one that he hopes his father would approve of.

And thus begins his lifetime of choices that he hopes would be in the interest of everyone else, that he hopes his father would approve of. All while secretly believing that his family hates him for the mistakes he makes as a young, inexperienced man taking all the responsibilities prematurely. And make mistakes he does! Because he lives by a set of rules he hopes the mirage of his dead father might follow, he cannot see that his other siblings are capable and allowed to make their own choices as well (yes yes regency era meant no choices for women but whatever) and constantly made terrible choices for Daphne's personal life in the interest of "protecting" her.

Similar mistakes from Kate. (god what is it about older siblings wanting to do whatever it takes to give what THEY perceive as the best to their siblings?)

She lies and hides and manages Edwina's entire interaction with everyone in the hopes that her sister will be encouraged only into the most wonderful perfect whirlwind of a romance to the best man alive, only to completely neglect and pretty much gaslight her views onto her sister.

This sentiment? Let me just break it down (from my perspective, there can be many different views and any and/or all may be true including that this is just the way Edwina's personality is): Kate wants Edwina to pursue love, to pursue the match of her wants by choosing the best, the brightest, the smartest, the most charming, etc. Because Kate always tells her that thats what she deserves, and its true, she does deserve the best (well, the best for her that is). You see, when you narrow people down to "selecting the best, being the best" etc, you end up making people think that because they are considered the best by the general population (the season's diamond and most eligible bachelor) that they are destined to be together, to make a stunning, powerful match. Edwina is never given a chance to even understand what best truly means for her and what she deserves (and obviously Anthony never thinks about it lol) and is enamored by getting the best of the best. Why? Is it some sort of ego that's fed to her by Kate? The opposite really. It is her own version of trying to show her family that she can excel at things and make them proud. Which is why when she inevitably fails, she somehow thinks she could've done better to please him and treats the whole thing as a test to her as a person, the person her sister had (in Edwina's mind) worked so hard to cultivate and educate to be the best of the best. And in a society where her worth is determined by her husband, if she didn't get the best of the best man, was she really living up to the work that was put into her?

"You have choices"

Ngl, that line is probably something she deep down wishes she had in some recess of her subconscious mind or smtg. It is only because Kate is actually there for Edwina emotionally that Edwina doesn't become a complete people pleaser (though lets be clear, she is definitely one, literally changes like a chameleon to fit everyone's likes. Ain't no one that well liked and Daphne clocked that early on).

I am not saying I hate older siblings and that they are the worst controlling beings on the planet. I am myself an older sibling. Actually I think because I'm an older sibling, it makes me even more horrified when I watch the season because I can clearly see the mistakes they are committing even as I know I would do the same in their case. I understand the pain and desperation that drives them, the self-loathing, the mindset that we must deny ourselves any sort of happiness and pleasure because concentrating on ourselves mean that we are neglecting everyone else. The armor we put on to seem the strongest, the meanest, the one who would throw the first punch after an insult flung at their family, the last one to step down from a fight all for our family, all in the name of family.

These two? They would lay down their lives for their siblings. If asked, they would sacrifice themselves with dark magic so that their siblings would never know the pain of a pin prick. Because they know pain and they never want their siblings to feel it. And so they control and manage and make sure everything goes the way they need it to, the way, the only way that their family can be safe and happy. All while they deny themselves the same painless happiness.

Anthony literally refused to fall in love so that he would never have to put his siblings through the kind of pain he went through as he saw his mother sit numbly for months after his father's death, barely existing through everyday. Kate barely viewed herself as Lady Sharma's daughter because she put both her and Edwina on such a high pedestal and stood guard at the bottom of it.

Both of them, oldest siblings resigning and steeling themselves and reassuring themselves that this is what they deserve, this is the price to be paid for the happiness of their family. Then resigning themselves to a life of loneliness, all while their family looks on at them with the greatest pity because they cannot understand for the life of them why their protectors, their loved ones, their older brother/sister would put themselves through things that obviously made them miserable.

And as it does, their pity will turn to frustration and if unchecked, to resentment or bitterness. Secrets and lies and controlling behaviors always come with a cost, no matter the intention. But not only that; What most oldest siblings forget is that everyone needs a role model to look up to and usually people find it in their siblings, their parents or someone else in the family that they know well. With the walls you've erected, they barely know you at all. And what you do display is only misery and burden. I cannot stress how much it pains them to see that in the people they love and how much it affects them.

So anyway, to older siblings out there. Prioritize yourselves. It is literally better for your siblings if you do. Love them, protect them but also teach them through example to make their own choices in life and be stable and happy yourself.

Also do you think he wanted to scream during this scene? Because personally I would've told her "OFC. OFC lilacs were his favorite. Because I was there when he died picking lilac/violet flowers for his wife named Violet, YEAH I fucking KNEW."

His mother telling him that she knew what he wanted and that he wanted love was probably the final testament to how little his family knew him. He was probably incredulous at the thought of his family wanting him to find love. Why tf would they think he wants that??

Why would he want love when it was the very same thing that ruined his mother after his father's death? The same thing that had left her so broken and numb that he had to be awake and pick up the pieces of his family as he could not afford to do the same.

The pain that parents inflict through their own grief/rage etc are things that really leave a lasting impact on the kids huh?

Also yes, I did cry when Lady Sharma told Kate that she always viewed her as a daughter and she was never an outsider to the family because she WAS family, man that shit had me bawling. Nothing ever prepares me for the loneliness of dealing with the consequences of "doing what you think is best" when it comes to other's lives.

Sorry for how all over the place this rant is. Tell me if I missed anything and what all older sibling behavior yall do and how called out this shit made u feel.

#absolutely called out by this season #I went and immediately started talking to my sister more and telling her about my hopes and dreams for myself and asking about hers #what she wants and how she wants to do it and how to help her figure out what she wants #this shit called me out big time #bridgerton #anthony bridgerton #kate sharma #kathani sharma #kathani bridgerton #kathani and anthony #colin bridgerton #bridgerton season 3 #bridgerton s3 #bridgerton netflix #penelope featherington #kanthony #polin

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silovsmenot · 19 hours

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You Can't Win Alone | Artūrs Šilovs

SUMMARY: After the EDM/VAN game seven, Artūrs is struggling with his emotions and needs a hug. WARNINGS: Just the depression we're all currently feeling, lots of fluff. PAIRING: Artūrs Šilov & reader. NOTES: I'm sad and got carried away, although it definitely could've been longer. And it's 1000% not edited, I may make edits a little later but this is fuelled by my depression. Under the circumstances, my submission box is reopened for any NHL one-shot/imagine requests... and expect more. WORD COUNT: 1209

You watched every shot with bated breath — hands gripping the sleeves of the crimson jersey. You and Artūrs had only recently become public with everything going on. You'd been together some months, but you knew well, Arty was a private person and these weeks had been a whirlwind since his call up.

There was no playoff jacket for you like the other wives and girlfriends but that didn’t matter, you had his bronze medal jersey. And you wore it with pride.

You held tight upon the sleeves with every shot that he faced in that first period, but he beat every one. You were beaming with pride as they returned to the ice for the second period, watching his masked face rise to try and find you in the crowd, but even in that crimson he’d struggle.

And as the shots started firing at him again, your confidence wavered. Not in him, never in him – but the team around him looked rattled. They weren’t playing like themselves, like the whole rink knew they could.

You exchanged a look of concern with a few of the other ladies, the wives and girlfriends who had immediately taken you in and made you feel welcome. Their faces were etched with equal concern, which hardly put your thoughts to ease.

It happens just as you turned back to the ice. The slapshot from the point with men in front, and your eyes tightly screwed as the quiet cheer of Edmonton fans rippled through the arena, the sighs of Vancouver fans. He couldn’t see you, but with a short breath, you looked back with a tender whisper.

‘You’ve got this, Art.’

You watched as his confidence returned with every save. The smile of your own confidence returning as you told yourself it was only one goal. But there was the ring of the post, the arms of Edmonton players thrown up in celebration and the murmurs once more. The team in blue looked more deflated than ever.

But there were flickers of hope, you clung to every one. Your hands hidden beneath the crimson sleeves as you held hands in front of your mouth, silently pleading for a goal for the home team. Just one goal to shift the momentum, but an open back-door on a penalty kill would put the score to 3-0 and you watched Artūrs head dropping that little bit . . . and it hurt to see.

Natalie Miller gave your hand arm a little squeeze, some confidence as the buzzer for the second period blew and all breathed a breath of relief. Surely, the third – they’d come out with confidence and snatch this thing. You hoped so desperately, everyone in that arena and watching on screens did.

And as the team skated out for the third, there looked to be a difference. A fire had been lit and they woke up. They’d come back from this before, they could do it again.

Garland shot and the arena erupted. You were pulled into arms and shouted in relief, cheering till your mouth was dry. This was it – they could do it. And then there was two, Hronek with a slapshot and nobody was in their seats. They were within one, and you could see how it lifted Art’s shoulders.

But as the clock ticked closer and closer to zero, no shots able to find the back of the net, the end was in sight. The buzzer finally sounded on a desperation shot from centre ice, and the Canucks dream of round 3 was over.

You could see the disappointment in Arty from your seat. You didn’t need to see his face clearly to know that he felt the loss, that he’d blame himself for it, at least to some degree. And as hands shook, your heart was breaking to see him so deflated. To see them all so deflated.

It felt like a long walk to the Canucks area beneath the seating, where you’d wait for him with the other wives and girlfriends. Embraces exchanged and plans being made for the summer months – nobody knew yet who would still be there next season, but that was the life of the hockey partner.

You waited in the crowd, sharing a small smile and nod of encouragement to each player who emerged from the changing room and into the arms of his partner. You waited and waited till all had emerged except for your boyfriend and Clarkie … You were just glad that Artūrs was not alone in there.

But even Clarkie would poke his head out eventually, a hand beckoning you inside with a look of concern. You did not hesitate, nor did you need to speak as you entered. As you entered, your eyes couldn’t miss the only remaining body. Still wearing his pads with hands clasped in front of him – his face was red, the ice pack on his head had melted to a bag of cold water, and his eyes were full, you couldn’t tell if he’d been crying or had been fighting the urge ever since … it didn’t matter, it broke you to see him like this.

With a shallow breath, you crossed the room in a rush. Dropping everything you had in your arms, you crouched before him with tender hands intertwining with his. It took him a moment to look at you, meeting your eyes with a sorrowful look like you’d never seen from him. You knew that this would never be easy, but difficult was an understate as you looked at him.

“Talk to me, Art.” You finally whispered after moments of silence, giving his hands a soft squeeze before they were raised to your lips. A soft kiss upon his knuckles, never breaking from his solemn gaze.

“I should’ve done better, we could’ve won.”

Arty whispered, his gaze faltered to look upon your tangled hands. His teeth biting upon his lips in an attempt to stifle any emotion from breaking through his ice-cold demeanour … but you could see right through it.

“Art, you can’t win a game on your own. You kept them in it tonight, just as you did every other night ... the guys just struggled to find the net –” You sighed. Pulling a single hand free, it came to place upon his stubbled cheek where you’d guide his eyes back to you. “I’m so proud of you.”

Silence crept back in as he simply stared at you, your gaze watching as he battled every emotion that sought to break free. You couldn’t even begin to imagine how he was feeling, but you were here to remind him that he was never alone.

“Lets get you out of that gear and get you home.”

Silence broken again, you waited for his nod of agreement before digits began to undo the various buckles and ties of his leg pads. Pulling them free, he leaned forward to pull you into him. It wasn’t a comfortable embrace as you knelt, reaching up with arms around him, but you would stay there for as long as he needed you.

“I love you, and I am so proud of you.” You finally whispered, planting kisses wherever you could without breaking the embrace.

“I love you too, y/n.”

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