darkmatilda
darkmatilda
M.
2K posts
If being insanely attractive were illegal id be in jail for chasing men with a chainsaw
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darkmatilda · 2 hours ago
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so u wake up hangover on a sunday morning, open the door and see these two delicious men, what do you do (wrong answers only)?
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darkmatilda · 16 hours ago
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☾┊ charlie swan icons┊☽
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twilight (2008)
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darkmatilda · 16 hours ago
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eyes that speak
karl bryullov / caravaggio / alexandre cabanel / john everett millais / guido reni / théodore géricault
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darkmatilda · 16 hours ago
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https://www.tumblr.com/darkmatilda/790336647293222912/httpswwwtumblrcomdarkmatilda7903338575945891
OMG YESSSS!!! and then she sees her photo on his fridge and before she can even tease him about it, he hits her with her own excuse like “Marie looked cute in that one :)” and she just goes “uh-huh… Marie or me?” 😏😭
pls yes yes yes i can see his fuckass cocky smile omg im crying 😭😭 also diva picked a photo where spencer just happened to be there and wasnt even posing and hes gonna hang up her most stunning photo where its literally 90% her all dolled up + marie as a prop 😭 someone sent it to me a while ago and it just popped back into my head ⬇️
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darkmatilda · 21 hours ago
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https://www.tumblr.com/darkmatilda/790333857594589184/ik-its-not-happening-just-yet-but-im-losing-it
WAIT STOP 😭😭 this is actually so sweet ??? like the way he was just supposed to be in and out but ends up scanning every inch of her space like it’s a case file… and the photo??? with him in it??? i’m literally clutching my chest. this man is gonna spiral for DAYS over a magnet photo on a fridge and she’s just like “she looks cute here :)” like MA’AM— we know why you kept this photo!!!
yep im also not normal about this scenario i think about it a lot and it makes me miss them so much 😭 diva exposed, we all know why she likes that SPECIFIC photo when she has so many marie's photos...
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darkmatilda · 21 hours ago
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https://www.tumblr.com/darkmatilda/790238560531939328/wait-you-are-so-right-spencer-would-not-look-bad?source=share
You're not helping my obsession with him! Cause wow.
-📚
always at your service 🫡
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darkmatilda · 21 hours ago
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ik it’s not happening just yet, but i’m LOSING it thinking about spencer seeing the diva’s apartment for the first time like??? he’d be looking around all silently intense bc he’s so down bad for her and won’t admit it so he’s literally soaking up every single detail about her life 😭😭 and you know he’s gonna be so judgmental about how many clothes and makeup products she has like pls this man is suffering in silence 😭💅💋
that was the second option that won the poll I made so it is going to happen maybe even sooner than u think! but OMG im so excited for it 😭 they literally just stop by for a second to grab something but he ends up taking in the whole place with his eyes without even realizing it, staring at the photos on the fridge and then he sees one with him in it. like not directly him but marie and a part of him. and even though she tries to explain like 'i put it up because marie looks cut here 🙃' this man is absolutely losing his mind inside
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darkmatilda · 22 hours ago
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will we see diva!reader soon :( i miss her :(((
im planning to go back to them as soon as i finish working on my fuckass series 😭🙏🏻 because its really hard for me to write about anything else when its stuck in the back of my head. in august, there will definitely be a few new parts of the diva reader i promise u that!!
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darkmatilda · 1 day ago
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are diva and spencer still living together?
yes! the renovation of her apartment understands the needs of the plot and keeps getting delayed!
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darkmatilda · 1 day ago
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watching s11 of criminal minds (knowing all the spoilers and plotlines ahead) is like
i-need-to-enjoy-it-as-much-as-i-can-before-my- beloved-characters-leave-because-itas-going-to-leave me-with-a-hole-in-my-heart-no-rewatch-will-ever-fix
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darkmatilda · 2 days ago
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darkmatilda · 2 days ago
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what’s the deal with men threatening to *** themselves every time you try to confront them about something that is obviously and undeniably their fault 🤔
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darkmatilda · 2 days ago
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𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you’re sharing a room with your ex. he hates when you smoke, and you hate when he does drugs in the motel bathroom.
𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐭𝐰: female!reader x s2addict!spencer reid, addiction, reader and spencer are exes, undefined breakup, both are fucking mean to each other, and maybe its for the best they broke up, inspired by mitski song.
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 2.2k
𝐚/𝐧: ths was collecting dust in my drafts for almost a month — hope you like it as much as things like this can be liked.
Smoke curled up from the cigarette held between your two fingers, free and lazy, like everything around. The ticking of the terribly loud, old-fashioned clock seemed to stretch every second. The yellow light, pleasant to your tired eyes, but interacting with the similarly colored walls, made them take on the disgusting shade of vomit. Two beds in the motel room, two figures stretched out on them, both silent, not even trying to pretend they had slept.
It was past midnight.
You were working on a new case, one that was fucking exhausting. One of those you can’t switch off after the workday ends. One that followed you home like a shadow behind your back, quickening its pace when you did, at some point breathing down your neck. Entering your apartment with you, putting toothpaste on your brush when you brushed your teeth at night, wrapping its arms around you from behind in bed and hiding its face in the hollow of your neck. Looking into your ear as if it wanted to see your brain and make sure it was full.
You were hot. You stretched your bare legs over the stiff motel sheets. You wore only underwear and a sweater in a shade of dark purple, its edge reaching your thighs, which absorbed all the cold seeping inside through the slightly open window beside you. There was no smoke detector in the room, nor any clear permission to smoke, but for now, that was the last thing on your mind. Anyone who saw what you saw that day would clearly conclude you wanted just one small cigarette. Besides, you couldn’t sleep. What else could you do?
You laid your head on the pillow, closing your eyes and simply listening to the music you’d put on. Its words and melody intertwined with the ticking of the clock.
Crack-tic-baby you don’t-tac-know what you-tic-want
But you-tac-know that-tic-you had it-tac-once.
You flicked the ash from the cigarette into an empty Coca-Cola can. Less than half of it was left. A quiet hiss sounded. The can, however, wasn’t completely empty. You placed it under your hand so it would be close by, and your gaze shifted to the other bed in the room.
It was fucking ironic that you had to share the room with your ex. Your relationship with Reid had been quiet, the arguments quiet but sharp, the atmosphere after the breakup loud. What hung between you muffled the sound of the song, the occasional gusts of wind sneaking in through the open window, and even that damn clock.
And you didn’t even talk to each other.
When you were together, you both struggled with insomnia. Just like now, you avoided sleep while lying in the same room, but not in separate beds. Entwined with each other, the sound of your quiet conversation blending symbiotically with the noises around you.
That was the one thing you missed, and it hit you as your gaze rested on his long figure lying on the made bed. Barefoot, but wearing the shirt he had on that day. If he fell asleep in it and woke up, it would be all wrinkled. With glasses. If he fell asleep wearing them, he’d wake up with them crooked on his sleepy face. But his face wouldn’t be right in front of yours. It would be on the neighboring bed, turned away, so you wouldn’t see that sight.
Not that you wanted to.
Seeing his fingers intertwined on his stomach and his eyes open late at night, a shred of decency made you ask, “Does it bother you?”
Even from a distance, you saw his forehead twitch slightly at the sound of your voice. You obviously meant the music, though you doubted that was really why he wasn’t sleeping. Only then did Spencer casually turn his head slightly toward you.
And you-tic-know that-tac-you want it-tic-back.
His brown eyes met your face, unchanged—just as distant, indifferent. He seemed like he wanted to answer; his pink lips moved, but he bit them, staying silent as his gaze dropped to your clothes.
The dark purple sweater belonged to him. No, you hadn’t kept it to breathe in his scent every night, drowning in melancholy and longing, then moaning into your pillow. You kept it because it was the only sweater that didn’t itch you and had a nice color. It just so happened that it once belonged to him and carried a faint trace of his scent.
His gaze lingered on the sweater, and he seemed to forget you’d even asked a question. You scoffed. He was probably assigning it way more meaning in that fucking genius brain of his than it actually had, and you wanted to make sure that was cleared up.
“What, you want it back?” you asked. Your voice was at best apathetic, at worst confrontational. You scoffed again, this time to yourself. “Should I take it off?”
Spencer looked into your eyes again. Lately, he’d been so pale and somehow thinner. Hearing the tone you used with him, he only shook his head. Not in a no, not in a yes—just in a leave me alone way, his face marked with exhaustion and open reluctance for interaction. Especially this kind of interaction. Especially with you.
He turned his head away, and you pressed your lips together. You raised the cigarette to your mouth, but all that was left was the filter.
You were, in a way, angry. Being ignored always got on your nerves, even if you were getting on someone else's. And the way he ignored you always carried a hint of superiority, a dismissal not just of the conversation—but of you entirely.
But you-tic-know that-tac-you need-tic-it.
“I asked you a question, Reid,” you snapped, reaching for the pack of cigarettes on the windowsill beside you. You grabbed one between your fingers but didn’t light it, not even brought it to your lips. You just played with it. The song was still playing. “Maybe you forgot what it was, so let me remind you. Does it bother you?”
The spark of your lighter, the first drag—sharp. Smoke slipped out from between your lips, fast and frustrated.
“It would be so nice if you actually answered. Communicated. Anything other than just staying silent and expecting me to figure everything out on my own.”
Reid stayed quiet for a moment longer, and you felt an inner, childish urge to throw your lighter at his stupid, beautiful face. But then he let out a heavy sigh and stood up, the old bed creaking beneath him. Without even looking at you—as if you didn’t exist—he walked toward the bathroom door opposite your beds and disappeared behind it.
And you-tic-know that you-tac-need it bad.
For a while, you stared at the bathroom door, then leaned back against the headboard, exhausted but too overstimulated to even try sleeping. With your restless little friend screaming at the top of its lungs in your head, and the feeling of a thousand pins stabbing into your skin from underneath. You turned the music up, hoping it would drown it all out. And hoping it would reach Reid’s ears and piss him off.
It worked, because a moment later the door cracked open a few inches, just his head peeking through the gap.
“This is childish,” he said sharply, curtly, with the smallest nod. “And selfish. You’re about to wake everyone up, the whole team.”
Without taking your eyes off his face, you turned the music down. Just so he could hear what you were about to say. You gave him a sarcastic smile.
“So you didn’t lose your voice after all? Cool.”
He rolled his eyes and shut the door.
For a moment, you were trapped in silence, the music so quiet it was almost absent from your consciousness. The ember on your cigarette, untouched for a while, had grown to a size that threatened to fall onto your bare thigh, but somehow that didn’t bother you. You took two more drags, your eyes locked on the door, before flicking it into the Coke can.
You watched & you thought.
Your face showed no expression while Reid was gone—just as it didn’t when the door opened again and he walked back through it, less certain than when he’d entered before. His steps were at once more controlled and more tense, his chest rising and falling in a steadier rhythm beneath the white shirt with the top few buttons undone. One sleeve rolled up, the other left down. He walked toward his bed, ignoring your burning stare, grabbed the corner of the blanket to slip underneath it.
“I know what you did,” your mouth said.
The words seemed to escape on their own, your voice hoarse but confident. Because you were confident. And right.
Spencer looked at you slowly, the blanket caught between his fingers, but he didn’t clutch it in panic the way you half expected. There was even, perhaps, the faintest mocking smile somewhere in the shadow of his face.
“I’m so sorry, but that’s not even remotely your fucking business,” he said smoothly and firmly, turning immediately after to get under the covers.
You crushed the cigarette in your hands, warping it, then relaxed with a long breath. You nodded.
“I know. That’s why I don’t care.”
He froze with his legs under the blanket, his head turning slowly toward you—as if he were trying to stop himself but losing. There was no coldness in his gaze, but you couldn’t say he was looking at you with warmth either.
“You don’t care,” he repeated.
There was no pain in it, but there was surprise.
You hummed in confirmation, taking a drag from your cigarette. You thought you felt a dull ache in your chest—like a bruise on your heart that hurt whenever it beat. You ignored it, pulling more smoke into your lungs. And exhaling.
“I’m not your mother,” you began, reaching for the can. “Girlfriend. Probably not even your friend anymore, so. Yeah. I’ve got no reason to care.”
 Silence fell between you, as if neither of you was even breathing. Maybe you weren’t.
“You want me to care?” you asked.
Your voice trembled—barely, really barely—at the very end, so to cover it, you practically shoved the cigarette into your mouth.
Spencer stayed silent, but he didn’t look away. His head was slightly tilted as he looked at you—thoughtful, distant.
 “No,” he finally answered.
You nodded to yourself, your tongue feeling out of place in your own mouth.
 “Well, there you go,” you muttered.
You turned away from him again, facing the bathroom door, and with a hand that trembled just slightly, you slid the cigarette between your lips. Less than half of it remained. Silence again between you. From the sounds alone, you could tell Spencer adjusted his position on the bed and that he was looking at you—you felt it. But you ignored it.
“I hate when you smoke,” he said unexpectedly, his voice rough.
You turned to look at him, your eyes meeting, and neither of you broke the collision. The corner of your mouth twitched for a moment, turning quickly into a grimace.
“I hate when you shoot up in motel bathrooms, you know.”
Spencer blinked faster, thrown off by your directness. It was something he used to really like about you. He opened his mouth, said nothing, and finally just let out a laugh. Then he lay down in his bed, shaking his head to himself.
That probably marked the end of the conversation.
You threw the cigarette into the can and set it back on the windowsill. You also closed the window, finally lying down on your side, in a sleeping position, though still watching him from the corner of your eye. His eyes were still open, just like yours. You stayed in that position for a long time before you gathered the courage to speak.
“You want to sleep with me?” You couldn’t believe you were asking, but you were. As you lay down, a piece of his sweater slid up under your nose, the scent filled your nostrils. You thought of something that used to work for both of you. Maybe closeness didn’t make you fall asleep right away, but at least it relaxed you, when one body fit against the other. You swallowed. “Like before.”
For the first time, you really waited for his answer. You counted the beats of your heart until it came. Spencer lay on his back, glasses on the nightstand, his eyes on the ceiling. He shook his head slightly. “I don’t need that anymore.”
You caught yourself nodding, understanding. “But I do,” you added more quietly.
Quietly, but you saw that he heard you. When he was looking at the ceiling, he didn’t blink—just like you didn’t blink when you were looking at him. Finally, his eyelids lowered, and he turned onto his side, with his back to you. And that was that, as far as your nighttime conversation went. You kept looking at him for a moment longer before you turned the other way yourself, sighing.
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darkmatilda · 2 days ago
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darkmatilda · 2 days ago
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Wait you are so right, Spencer would not look bad as s kinda muted down red head. Oh no.
-📚
so basically i felt the inner urge to put it into action and see for myself
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darkmatilda · 2 days ago
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https://www.tumblr.com/darkmatilda/790231351068639232/hii-its-the-anon-from-the-nude-lip-combo-for
hahaha dont worry!! It’s just me overthinking because I love this series so much
that's totally okay! just wanted to point out that I dont really specify diva's makeup (same with her appearance) so its really fun if u have your own associations and choices! 🫶🏻
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darkmatilda · 2 days ago
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hii! it’s the anon from the nude lip combo for diva reader again lol. my brainrot over her makeup is so real — I literally bought 2 blushes that just scream diva reader to me and now that’s all I can think about hahaha. I’m kinda obsessed with what her supposed makeup would be lol
help i wanna give a reference for what her makeup could look like but i have a huge problem imagining faces and when i do they’re super blurry so i have no idea what would suit her features etc 😭 the only thing i know for sure is bold red lips and eyeliner, i havent even thought about what kind of blush she’d use 😭
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