#and it's even worse if your mechanic is *so* bad that it makes me hate the *entire* game

[innalheid]

Feeling very Ascension by Gorillaz ft Vince Staples at 2:18

[hecksupremechips]

Girl like. The reason he said "this is how it should be" and faced death with a smile....is cuz he wanted to die. For 2 years he sat there thinking he was worthless and deserved to die. If he hadn’t be shot, his death would’ve been suicide, he was fully planning to die in a gutter somewhere undetected. When saying "this is how it should be" hes literally saying "don’t cry because I’m dying, my death is a good thing actually because I fucking suck and you are better off without me". I don’t think that’s badass even slightly, it’s actually really sad and really shitty. Shinjiro is so convinced that he deserves to die and hates the idea of anyone giving a shit about him because he literally can’t wrap his mind around the idea that he will be missed when he’s gone, that his death is a bad thing actually. And his last words were meant to be comforting because he fully did not intend for anyone to be there when he died, he intended to die alone, so he says them as a reminder that he’s not worth crying over

Personally, if it were me, if I was holding my dying best friend in my arms who was deeply depressed and suicidal and he said "this is how it should be" uh. I wouldn’t admire him for it??? Like am I losing my mind when I say the way this game handles Shinji is bad or is anyone else seeing this too 😰

[coockie8]

For super petty reasons I am urging anyone reading this to literally never install and/or play the Alien Invasion mobile game for your phone.

[lucifertoxics]

missing pieces: marcus lopez

| pairing: marcus lopez x reader

| genre: exes to lovers

| warnings: angst, swearing, minors dni

| word count: 1.3k

| aura's note: this fic is for @chericherilvr who has an obsession with marcus like, so girly this is for you, enjoy🫶🏻

[ BACK TO MASTERLIST ]

Ever since you and Marcus broke up, your only mechanism was singing. To say the least, you were actually good at it. That's when you found yourself with your schools band practicing a cover. Unfortunately for you, the rain started pouring soon after you finished, which forced you to stay under a bus stop.

Sadly, as you did not own a car, you had to call your brother, Billy. He said he'd pick you up, but that's when you saw Marcus car, probably a stolen one, pull up in front of the school.

The two of you dated for 3 years, until you decided to end it, without giving him any reason why. That was 5 months ago, until now, you haven't talked since. The only person that you didn't want to see right now, surely, the break up was a complicated one to say the least.

"Get in." He says. From the tone of his voice, you knew one thing, he was pissed.

"No fucking way!" You say in an annoyed voice, crossing your arms. You two are like magnets and you didn't want to be stuck in a small place with him. He was bad for you. He brings out the worst in you.

"Are you seriously going to stand out here?" He says with the same tone. Marcus knows that he is being irrational, but he can't help it. He's just mad and heartbroken right now, seeing you just makes it even worse. He hates you for breaking his heart, but he's not going to let you know that.

You roll your eyes, knowing that he has a point never the less. And you wanted to be home faster, so having an argument with him, wasn't useful. As you open the passanger door to get into the car, you look at him.

Marcus starts the car and pulls out of the bus stop, onto the road. He doesn't say anything, just drives. The windshield wipers make loud screeches as they fight to get the rain off the windshield. The heater blasts as it tries to warm up the car from the outside cold. The air makes the windshield foggy. Then suddenly, Marcus sights loudly and looks over at you. As you were looking outside the window, gathering your thoughts about what just happened.

Turning around to look at him, you decided to ask him. "What?" Looking at him with confused eyes.

Marcus just stays silent, he just stares at you, trying to gather his thoughts. You can see his anger and frustration written all over his face. He doesn't want to look at you, he doesn't wang to look at anything. He's just so angry. Finally, he breaks the silence with a blunt ask. "Why did you dump me?"

"Marcus..." You look at him and then out the window, sighting, trying to find a good way to answer his question. You hate this situation that you're in. This was not the right time to talk about the break up, not with him.

The classic answer, and the one that he didn't want to hear. He hated when things were "complicated". He hates uncertainty. He wanted an answer and he wanted it now. His grip on the steering wheel tightens as his anger builds up. "Jusf answer me, god fucking damn it!" He snaps a little at you. He doesn't like losing his cool, but he's already too far gone.

"Because i'm leaving for university..." You talk in a low tone, looking outside the window. "I got accepted into Harvard." You explain yourself to him, staring at him, hoping he understands your intentions.

Marcus felt an intense wave of jealousy wash over him as soon as you finish the sentence. He could never get into Harvard. He's not smart enough. He knows you are and that bothers him. He hates that he feels jealousy of you, but he can't help it. "So you dumped me because you got accepted into a stupid school?" He says completely ignoring the fact that you're going to Harvard.

"A stupid school? I got a full scholarship to that stupid school." You say in an annoyed tone whie looking at him, feeling that he doesn't care about your achievement. "You'll only be three hours away.." You say trying to find something positive in your departure.

"Oh three hours away, really?" Marcus says sarcastically trying to ignore the jealousy that's building up inside of him. "And i'm sure that this full scholarship is a huge achievement." He says mockingly. Marcus knows damn well the school isn't stupid and he knows how hard getting a full scholarship there is but it just pisses him off so he can't help but belittle your achievement.

"It is, Marcus! I didn't want to leave you...I didn't want to leave you in the first place. I was scared that this won't work, us, fuck i want this to work out cause i miss you." I explain myself to him on a calm tone, trying not to be affected by his words. Coming closer as you say the words "I miss you"

The words "I miss you" make him soften up, but only for a bit. He still doesn't know if he should forgive you or not, but hearing those words come out of your mouth makes his heart feel a little warmer. He slowly turns to look at you more. He reaches his hand over and places it on your thigh, giving you a gentle squeeze. Marcus likes to hide his emotions but that small act kind of gave him away.

"I missed you! You have no idea..." You lean your head on his shoulder as he drives. The truth is that you missed him. His kisses. His hugs. His affection, You were craving it.

Marcus blushes a bit as you put your head on his shoulder. He can barely believe he's allowing you to do these things. Maybe part of him is ready to forgive you...but another part of him is not. He stays silent as he continues driving, his hand firmly planted on your leg. He can't help his attraction towards you and his desire for you. The silence is getting more intense as the minutes go by.

"My brother said that long distance relationships don't always work out...so that's why i thought it's for the best...but it's only three hours..." You say sighting interlacing your fingers with his, still having your head on his shoulder.

Marcus wanted to argue and say that three hours is too much but he knows is his own jealousy getting the best of him. A small part of him, a very small part, has forgiven you for breaking his heart. He's not completely over it but he's slowly starting to terms with it. "You know, I could drive over and see your every weekend." He says finally, turning to look at you as he tries to gauge your reaction.

"Really? You would do that for me?" You look at him surprised, hy his answer. Jumping into his arms, hugging him tight, still surprised by what he said.

Marcus freezes up with surprise. He was honestly prepared for you to reject him, but now? This is...unexpected. He feels your tight embrace and a wave of butterflies washes over him. He wraps his arms around you, holding you even tighter. "You can't get rid of me that easily you know?" He says with a smile, brush a piece of hair out of your face.

"I don't wanna get rid of you." You smile, looking at him as he brushes the hair from your face. That's when you take his face in your hands, smashing your lips to his.

What was once a small wave of butterflies now turns into a tidal wave of euphoria. Marcus is swept away by the kiss, he wraps his arms arouns you and pulls you in closer. All the emotions and feelings that have built up during the car ride come bursting to the surface. He kisses you hard and agressively, like he wants to make this moment last forever.

© LUCIFERTOXICS ⎯ do not translate, plagiarise or claim any of my works as your own.

[konigsblog]

I, personally, hate the r@pe things you write.

I feel very strongly about SA and I know my feelings aren't your priority. I used to read your stuff a lot then actually ended up blocking you, but I decided to unblock you for this message.

I know a lot of people use this as a coping mechanism if they ARE victims, but hey, to each their own. You can't save everybody.

I just don't fuck with it. It's not my forte, but I know, deep down, you're not a bad person. Your brain just doesn't completely function. I, myself, have weird fantasies about military men and serial killers, but only about one's from shows, movies, or basically anyone fictional. I, myself, am extremely weird and I think I have a few mental disorders but I haven't gotten tested.

The things you write are vial, disgusting, and down right crazy, but hey, I used to fantasize about r@pe and honestly can't even imagine myself fantasizing about being violated now. I guess I've healed in a way or whatever, but I'm still into rough play and knives and such.

What im trying to say is, I feel for you and don't like your stuff at the same time. Nobody with a normal functioning, properly working brain is into what your into. It's just plain wrong. But that doesn't mean you're bad. You're just...mentally unput. Or, that's my assumption from first hand experience.

I just feel like your brain is messed up. Not in a quirky " I'm so twisted⛓️" way, but there's actually something wrong in there. Like, you're actually missin' a few dozen screws.

I have awful intrusive thoughts about hurting, killing, and/or fornicating with them and I hate this because it's a mental battle that honestly makes me wanna commit, which is why I feel so strongly about r@pe, especially as someone who gets catcalled a lot, and I am in dangerous situations often.

R@pe is worse than murder in my opinion because you can't hurt once you're done and dead, but being a survivor is an actual psychological battle that's torture, and torture is ALSO worse than murder.

I'm glad to know you don't actually support real SA and have some actual boundaries unlike the tons of idiots that I've blocked that do. Most of them have never even come close to experiencing SA, or just plain don't care.

I just think you feel this way because an actual issue with your brain. I don't mean this hatefully, even though I hate what you write. But that's just my analysis. But I am curious to know what made you this way.

you're a disgusting piece of shit, you don't know me, and let's keep it that way

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for S; the puzzle trap sex-room. tw: discussion of past dubcon/underage sex, past grooming, unhealthy coping mechanisms. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

"It's fine, Jesus," Superboy says, more than a little frustrated with literally every-fucking-thing at this point. "I mean the pollen and the livestreaming and the deathtrap were all extremely fucking shitty but for, like, the millionth time, it was just sex." 

"Sex with someone that you aren't attracted to who is a gender that you aren't attracted to," Robin says tightly, clenching his fists down by his sides. Superboy does not look anywhere near Superman. 

Goddammit, he thinks. 

"No," he says, just pretending they're alone in this stupid cave because it's not actually cool to make Robin think the situation is any worse than it already is, and Robin's the one who already got upset enough to fucking puke over the situation, so . . . "Like I was kinda annoyed over the hair-pulling thing and you were pretty pushy and I definitely did want a condom involved, but–just, look, that problem is not a problem, alright? Neither of those problems are, uh . . . problems. And what do you care, anyway, nobody's gonna think you're into dick just because you got roofied into oblivion and fucked the only convenient mouth in the room." 

God, though, only he could ever possibly be enough of a fucking loser to end up having to confess to the stupid sexuality crisis he's been having in the fucking Batcave. In front of Batman. In front of Superman! Like–sure, why not, this might as well happen. Why not! 

Robin stares at him. 

"You have a crush on me?" he asks in obvious disbelief. 

"I didn't say I had a crush on you, Jesus," Superboy grumbles, re-folding his arms and very, very firmly still not looking anywhere near Superman. Or anywhere near Batman either, just while he's at it. But admittedly it's mostly Superman he's not looking at. "Ego much, birdboy?" 

"You have a crush on me," Robin repeats, covering his face with his hands again, and Superboy scowls at him and does not blush. "You have a crush on me and I made you go down on me in a deathtrap without even kissing you first." 

"Brush your teeth and we'll talk," Superboy says with a dismissive shrug, since Robin again did very literally just puke in that trash can and all. And like, yeah, the guy doesn't even like guys, but the flippancy is just a reflex at this point. 

Robin splays his fingers and stares at him. 

"Go to therapy and we'll talk," he says. Superboy scowls at him again. Rude. 

“Look who’s fucking talking, Bat-boy,” he says. “Are we all done freaking out about nothing now? Can I go get back to my life, please?” 

“Superboy, if you would be willing to talk to . . . someone . . .” Superman starts in a very careful tone that Superboy immediately hates the sound of. 

“Yeah, no,” he says in exasperation, just–not looking at him, still. “Therapy is for supervillains in Gotham and civilians fresh out of crisis situations, not for perfectly fine active duty superheroes who are just bad at problem-solving under pressure.” 

“You solved the puzzle perfectly, actually,” Batman says, just as neutral as before. 

“How are you making that sound like a bad thing?!” Superboy demands, shooting him a dirty look.

[wholoveseggs]

hello gorgeous! i got another idea! How about reader going through a divorce where the husband is really an arrogant asshole, permanently making fun of her etc. And then she meets Elijah, and they start getting close and he helps her gain her confidence back and shows her how she should be treated. And maybe a few months later, after the divorce, she meets the ex-husband somewhere again and he tries to humiliate her again but Elijah is there and he puts him in his place. Smut is very much welcomed. 🫶🏻

Change

I hate Antoinette, but they were hot together

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

Your marriage causes you to feel trapped and worthless. Until you meet a handsome stranger at a café and he shows you how much more you can be.

♡♡ Thanks for the request lovely @msveronicag, I hope you enjoy it! ♡♡

5.8k words - Warnings: angsty, smutty, reader has low self-esteem, husband is verbally & financially abusive, cheating, car sex, Elijah being a bit of a rascal.

When you first got together with John, he was just so charming and you couldn't help but fall for him. It was hard to say no to him, and you were in a haze of love for a long time. He was such an extrovert, loud and funny, and you felt like you couldn't live without him.

But over the course of your marriage things started to change, his mask slipping and showing the real John underneath. At first it was just a comment here and there, you told yourself he was just having a bad day, but then it just kept getting worse.

The day you stopped loving him, was the day he had a bad day at work and decided to take it out on you. You cooked his favorite dinner, trying to make him feel better, and when he came home, he told you to order takeout instead. You were in the middle of making it, so you just told him it would be done soon, and tried to ignore him.

He took the food and threw it in the sink, and started yelling. You were so stunned, you just stood there and let him. He said the most terrible things, telling you how worthless and pathetic you were, that no one would ever want you if they knew you were like this.

A part of you started to believe him, because no matter how hard you tried to be a good wife, you just weren't. John was so kind and charming to everyone else, so it clearly had to be your fault.

You slowly stopped talking to your friends and family, you were probably annoying them anyways.

John eventually cheated on you, and then you found out he was cheating with multiple women. He would disappear for days at a time, off with someone else. You didn't even care, you didn't love him anymore.

Abuse is insidious like that, you become numb to it all, your brain normalizes it to help you cope, until you don't realize that you are being abused. Until you think it's your fault...

You woke to the sound of yelling, your usual alarm clock these days. John was a loud and obnoxious man, and he had no problem screaming at you whenever the mood struck him.

Today's argument was over you sleeping in. You wanted to stay in bed for a little longer, and John couldn't stand to wait another moment. So he went ahead and had to make his own breakfast, and then came upstairs to berate you.

"You really are a lazy slob! I bet you didn't do any of the laundry either. Get up and clean the house!"

You slowly got out of bed, lately your coping mechanism was ignoring him. If you didn't say anything perhaps he wouldn't yell at you. It wasn't a great coping mechanism, but it was the only thing keeping you sane.

"Are you fucking stupid? Answer me!" John yelled as you walked into the bathroom, closing the door in his face.

That didn't stop him, he yelled through the door, and you turned on the shower. Perhaps you would stand there for an hour, just to piss him off.

Just when you started to relax under the warm water he started banging on the door.

"You've been in there too long, wasting the water I pay for. Get out!"

You didn't have a job, because John told you he would take care of you. You were young and naive, you learned the hard way that being financially beholden to any man was a bad idea.

You finally turned off the shower and dried off. You put on a baggy shirt and sweats, and opened the door. He was gone, probably downstairs watching tv.

You got dressed and headed to your craft room, you spent a lot of time in there. You enjoyed painting intricate scenes on canvases, it was the only thing that gave you joy anymore.

When you painted, your mind would go completely blank, and you would lose yourself in the art. Sometimes you would paint for hours and not even notice.

You put on some music and started working on a landscape. You didn't realize how much time passed until the door opened.

John must of had a day off work because he was still home, he usually left by this time. He stood there and watched you for a moment.

"I'm bored and hungry. Make me lunch."

"I'm not your maid. Make it yourself," you mumbled, not taking your eyes off the canvas.

"Why the fuck do you even waste your time with that? Do you think anyone cares about your mediocre shit?" He snapped.

He's right, no one would care about your paintings, even if you shared them. You weren't that talented, it was purely a form of escape. But a small part of you dreamed of being able to sell your artwork and live off the income.

You set down your paintbrush and sighed.

"I don't do it to show off, I do it because I enjoy it. It calms my mind and makes me happy," you answered.

He laughed, a cruel and mocking sound. He had no appreciation for art or culture, he only cared about money and power. He stepped forward and ripped the canvas off the easel, and started tearing it to pieces.

"How's that for making you happy? Do you still want to paint? Be a famous artist? Real Picasso you are!" He sneered, laughing at his own joke.

You didn't want him to see you cry, so you just got up, grabbed your things and walked out of the house. You felt so weak, such a pushover, unable to defend yourself against his cruelty. A little voice in your head told you that you deserved it, no one knew you better than John, so if he said you were worthless and pathetic, then you must be.

There was a cafe near your house, you always went there when John was being too much for you to handle. It was a cute little spot that doubled as a vintage book store. Dark wooden bookshelves that went from floor to ceiling, plants in every corner and a cozy seating area with large comfortable couches and chairs. It also displayed paintings from local artists on its walls, you enjoyed the ambiance of the place, it made you feel at peace. You would buy a coffee and sit in there for hours reading.

You had seen the same man there a couple times, and his striking appearance caught your eye. His dark hair was perfectly styled, his brown eyes piercing, and his strong jawline was covered in stubble. There was something about him that drew you in, but you were far too shy to ever approach him. What would you even say to a man like that? Hey, I think you a stupidity beautiful? Is the book you're reading good? What do you do for fun? It all sounded so pathetic in your head, so you stayed away.

You noticed that he was always nice and polite to the waitresses and he tipped generously. You wondered if he was like John, that it was all just a facade and that he was secretly cruel underneath his mask of civility. But his face was always soft, his voice gentle, and the way he held the door open for other people gave you hope that he was a genuinely nice man.

You would never see him in anything other than a three piece suit, which was unusual for this neighborhood. His dark blue, or sometimes black suits, fit him so well and complemented his skin tone. He wore crisp white shirts and you could tell he was muscular underneath, not bulky, but lean.

You would sip on your coffee, reading, and stealing glances of him out of the corner of your eye. It was probably pathetic, but the way he looked and carried himself made you feel good, so you let yourself.

One day as you were reading your book, you noticed him reading the same book. Perhaps it was the extra espresso shot you added to your coffee or the fact that it was the first sunny day in weeks, but you found the courage to get up and introduce yourself.

"Hey, uh, I see you have excellent taste in books," you smiled at him, your heart fluttering when he made eye contact. You fought the urge to run away, his gaze was intense, but not harsh.

"It seems you do as well," he returned the smile, his voice was like velvet. He gestured to the seat across from him. "Please, join me."

You felt butterflies in your stomach as you sat down, trying your best to maintain eye contact and not blush.

"What made you choose this particular book?" He asked, gesturing at it.

"Honestly, the cover. The art style is really appealing," you told him, blushing a bit. The way he was looking at you made your breath catch in your throat.

"Interesting, I thought the same thing." He chuckled, closing his book and holding out his hand. "I'm Elijah, by the way."

"Y/N," you introduced yourself, taking his hand and shaking it.

"What do you think of it?" He asked, leaning back in his armchair, your gaze lingered on his arms as he crossed them.

"What?" You said, feeling your cheeks heating up. Why did you have to be so stupid all the time?

"The book, what do you think of the book?" He chuckled, tilting his head and smiling.

You talked about the book, the writing, the characters, and how you thought it was going to end. You ended up talking for hours, he was easy to talk to. You found yourself getting more and more relaxed around him.

Elijah had this aura about him, an air of confidence that was oddly comforting. He was polite and charming, with only a hint of a mysterious accent that intrigued you.

"I can't believe we've been sitting here for so long," you laughed. "I didn't mean to keep you, I'm sure you have other places to be."

"No, I have nowhere I need to be, I'm enjoying your company," he said softly. You noticed his gaze lingered on your lips.

You glanced down at your watch and saw that it was nearly 11pm. "Wow, I should go, my husband is probably wondering where I am." You got up and dug around in your purse to pay the bill.

"I would love to see you again," Elijah said as you pulled out your wallet. "Here, let me." He pulled out his own wallet and handed the waitress some cash.

A giddy, almost school girlish, smile spread across your face. "Oh, okay. Thank you, that would be great." You stuttered a bit, blushing and putting your wallet away.

"Have a lovely night," he said softly, getting up and kissing the back of your hand.

Your heart fluttered, and you couldn't wipe the silly grin off of your face as you left. You hadn't felt this feeling in so long, and the thought of seeing him again filled you with joy.

The next few weeks felt like a dream, every day you would go to the cafe and read. You would sit in Elijah's section, and after a while he would show up and sit across from you, drinking his coffee.

"I hope I'm not interrupting," he said the first time. "I just enjoy your company."

"You're not interrupting," you blushed, putting your book down. "I enjoy your company as well."

As time went on, the conversations got more and more personal. He asked about your job, your life, and your husband. You didn't want to talk about John, it was hard to admit you had been in a bad marriage for so long. You told him a little, about how you both fell out of love, and were basically roommates.

Elijah would listen intently, and would always ask the right questions. He was very good at drawing information out of you. But whenever he got too close to the truth you would change the subject.

It was obvious that he was a good listener and had a kind heart. You wondered why he bothered with you, a nobody, when he was clearly such a sophisticated man. He could have anyone, and yet he was sitting with you.

One day he brought you a gift, it was a tiny ornamental bird, painted a beautiful shade of green. It was just like the one in the first book you both read, and you had told him how much you liked it. You were speechless, it was the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for you.

You decided to make him a gift, and spent all day working on it. It was a bookmark with an image of a forest painted on it. You used a mix of acrylic and watercolor, the greens and browns blending together.

John walked in on you finishing up, and sneered at your painting. "Are you trying to impress somebody with that? No one's gonna want that ugly thing." He said, scoffing.

Your heart sank and you felt tears pricking the corners of your eyes. He was right, who would want it? It was nothing special.

You were going to give it to Elijah anyways, but you kept second guessing yourself. He wouldn't want it, it was a stupid idea.

He came into the cafe a little later that day, and greeted you with his usual warm smile. Your stomach twisted into knots, and you felt your palms starting to sweat.

"Hey," you said, trying to sound normal. "How are you today?"

"I'm well, how are you?" He replied, sitting across from you.

"I'm good, thank you," you nodded. You decided it was now or never. "So, I made this for you," you blurted out, holding out the bookmark. Your face was hot, and you wished you could hide under the table.

Elijah's face lit up, and he gave a wide crooked smile. "This is wonderful, thank you," he said.

You watched as he picked it up, admiring the artwork. He traced the pattern of trees with his finger and he seemed completely enamored with it.

"You are very talented, do you sell these?," he asked. He looked up and saw the expression on your face.

“Oh god no, I don't know about that, I mean, I just do it for fun, and..."

You were interrupted by your phone ringing, it was John.

"Sorry, one moment," you said, answering the call.

"Where the hell are you? It's past 8pm, and I'm starving, come home and cook dinner," he growled.

You felt your cheeks heat up under Elijah's gaze, shame and embarrassment washed over you.

"Yes, of course, I'm sorry, I'll be right home," you whispered, you felt so small.

"Hurry up, lazy ass," John snapped before hanging up.

You put your phone away, and forced a smile.

"I'm sorry, I have to go, I forgot my husband was cooking dinner," you lied.

Elijah nodded, his brow furrowing a bit. "Alright, have a lovely night," he said.

"You too," you mumbled as you quickly grabbed your things and left.

You cried all the way home, feeling like a such a loser, a complete failure. Why couldn't you have someone like Elijah in your life? Someone who listened, someone who cared, someone who didn't berate you every second of the day.

You wondered what Elijah thought of you, did he see you as pathetic and weak? A fool that let her husband walk all over her?

It didn't matter, he was so out of your league, you were just a stupid, fat nobody. He would never want you, no one would.

When you showed up to the cafe the next day you noticed a fancy sports car with tinted windows parked out front. It looked very out of place on your street, the only people around who had cars like that were old rich people, and the occasional drug dealer.

Before you reached the door you heard your name being called, and turned around. You saw Elijah waving at you from the driver's seat of the car.

You approached the passenger seat window, and he smiled, beckoning you to get in. You sat down and he handed you a cup of coffee, you smiled at the gesture, he knew your order.

"Thank you," you said, taking a sip.

"I want to show you something," he said, pulling on to the street.

"What is it?" You asked.

"It's a surprise," he said, smirking.

You had no idea where he was taking you, but you didn't mind. You were excited to spend some more time with him.

When he pulled up to the local community centre you were very confused. You couldn't imagine why Elijah wanted to bring you here, maybe it was part of the surprise.

You both got out of the car and entered the building. Inside there was a craft show going on, local artists had set up tables displaying their wares.

His thoughtfulness touched you deeply, he had taken the time to bring you here because he knew you loved art.

The next couple hours were spent perusing the aisles and admiring the paintings, sculptures and crafts. Elijah seemed to have an interest in all of it, asking lots of questions and complimenting the artists. He had a way of making everyone feel comfortable, it's something you admired about him.

"You could get a booth here, sell your art if you wanted," he suggested.

"Oh, I don't know about that, this is just a hobby," you said, brushing off his idea.

"Why not?" He pressed.

"I...well, no one would want my stuff, I mean, they're just little paintings," you sighed

"I would, I think you're very talented," he said softly.

Your heart swelled at his words.

"Thanks," you smiled.

After the craft show, he drove you home, you made him park at the end of the street. You knew how jealous John could get, and the last thing you wanted was for him to see you getting dropped off by a handsome stranger.

"Thank you, Elijah, this was fun," you said.

"The pleasure was all mine," he replied.

"You can't tell anyone about this, I mean, if John finds out, he'll..." You trailed off, feeling stupid.

"He will what?" Elijah's eyes were full of concern.

"Oh, he just, gets jealous easily," you said, fumbling over your words.

"Are you not allowed to have friends?" His brow furrowed, and his eyes hardened a bit.

"No, I mean, I can have friends, I'm just not, uh, supposed to have guy friends," you admitted.

"That doesn't sound like a healthy relationship," Elijah said, his voice sounding slightly deeper than usual. "How about business partners?"

"What?" You were confused.

"If I could help you with your art career, get you a booth at the craft fair, promote your work, would that be allowed?"

"Uh, I guess so," you said.

"Excellent, let's meet tomorrow, discuss what needs to be done," he smiled.

"Okay," you smiled, a warm feeling spreading through your body.

When you got home you decided not to tell John, the last thing you wanted was an argument. Maybe if you were successful and sold a lot, then he would be happy for you, but that was just wishful thinking.

You and Elijah had been meeting up once a week for two months, discussing your art, and ways to improve your sales. He was an expert at marketing, and had already gotten you some commissions.

It was nice to have something else to focus on, instead of constantly being reminded that you were a failure. And for the first time in your life you were making your own money, it felt good.

You started to feel more confident in yourself, Elijah was always saying how talented and special you were, and it was beginning to stick.

Today was the craft fair, and you were nervous, what if no one bought anything? What if they all hated it and thought it was ugly?

Elijah pulled up in his fancy car, and greeted you with his usual warm smile. You both had gotten so much closer in the last couple months, and he had become your best friend. He was the only person in your life that made you feel like you mattered.

Your feelings for him were beyond friendship, but you couldn't risk losing him. It was better to have him as a friend, than nothing at all.

The craft fair was going well, you had already sold two pieces, and were chatting with some customers.

"Oh my goodness, this is gorgeous," one of the customers, an older woman, exclaimed.

"Thank you," you beamed.

"How long have you and your husband been selling these?" She asked, gesturing to you and Elijah.

"Oh, uh, we're not married," you blushed.

"Sorry, I just assumed, your ring..." she trailed off.

You glanced down at your hand and saw your wedding band, the simple gold band John had given you so many years ago.

"I am married, just not to him, we are just business partners," you smiled awkwardly.

"Oh, my mistake," the woman said, returning your smile, her gaze lingering on Elijah.

"It's okay," you blushed, trying to busy yourself by wrapping the painting she had purchased.

"You'd make a lovely couple," the woman said, handing you her credit card.

Your face burned, and your palms began to sweat. You had tried your best to not think of him that way, it wasn't fair to him, or to John. But the thought was always in the back of your mind.

"Thank you, have a nice day," you managed, handing her the wrapped painting.

"You too dear," she said, winking.

You sold out quickly, and decided to celebrate with a drink at a nearby bar.

"I'm very proud of you," Elijah smiled. "You have a natural gift."

"Thanks," you said, feeling yourself blush.

He leaned in close and took your hand, tracing your wedding band. "This doesn't suit you," he said.

"Excuse me?" You squeaked, the butterflies in your stomach fluttering madly.

He ignored your reaction and just grinned, his fingers intertwining with yours. You stared at your hands, his thumb lightly caressing your knuckles. Your heart was pounding so loud you were sure he could hear it.

"Can I ask you a personal question?" He said, his gaze fixed on your face.

"Sure," you whispered, unable to take your eyes off of him.

"Why didn't John show up to support you?" His voice was barely a whisper.

Your heart sank. You had purposefully not told John, not wanting to hear him complain about it, or belittle you.

"Well, um, I didn't really invite him," you confessed.

"Why not?"

"Because, I knew he wouldn't care," you sighed. "And I don't want him to know I'm earning my own money,"

"Because you plan on leaving him." It wasn't a question.

"Y-yeah, eventually," you stammered.

He leaned forward and kissed the back of your hand. "Good, you deserve better," he murmured, his lips still grazing your skin.

You didn't know what to say, your head was spinning and you felt hot all over.

"You never talk about him, but I can tell you are unhappy," he said, sitting back.

"It's complicated," you whispered.

"You can talk to me," he said.

You paused for a moment, trying to collect your thoughts. You had never talked to anyone about your feelings for John, it was too difficult.

"Well, we used to be happy, when we first got married, but now he's not the same," you said, trying to keep the emotion out of your voice.

"How so?"

"He's controlling and possessive, and he yells a lot. He doesn't love me anymore, and I'm not sure he ever did," you admitted, tears welling up in your eyes. "He cheats on me regularly and controls the finances. Selling my art is the first opportunity I've had to earn money of my own, and I'm terrified of what he'll do if he finds out."

You felt yourself begin to cry, and tried to wipe the tears away, ashamed that your life had turned out this way.

"You hold all of this pain inside, it's not healthy," Elijah said, his face was unreadable.

"I know," you sobbed. "I'm sorry, I don't know why I'm crying, it's so stupid."

"It's not stupid, you're not stupid," he said, wiping away a tear with his thumb.

You looked into his eyes, his face full of concern. He cared about you, and it was a relief to finally have someone to confide in. You feared that Elijah would reject you, see you as pathetic, but he didn't. He stayed by your side, listening and offering comfort.

"If you ever decide to leave him, you are more than welcome to stay with me," he said.

"You'd do that for me?"

"Of course, you're my friend," he smiled.

You threw your arms around him and buried your face in his neck. "Thank you," you mumbled.

He froze for a moment, before wrapping his arms around you, pulling you close. You inhaled his scent, a mixture of cologne and whiskey. He was solid and warm, and you felt safe in his embrace.

"Thank you, for everything," you repeated, beginning to pull away, but he held you in place.

You felt something stir deep inside, something primal and raw. The heat from his body, the way his strong arms felt around you, and the closeness of his face was overwhelming.

He kissed your cheek as you pulled back, and his lips lingered there for a moment. Your skin tingled where his lips had touched, and you could feel the warmth from his breath.

You sat back and looked at him, his eyes were dark and full of desire, your fingers intertwined with his. The air was thick with tension, and the electricity between the two of you was undeniable.

"I should get home," you said softly, not really wanting to leave.

"Of course," he said, his voice was deep and raspy, his grip on your hand tightening.

You paid the bill, and walked out to the parking lot. Elijah stood close beside you, and his hand brushed yours a few times as you walked to his car.  

Before you could open the passenger side door you felt his hands on your hips. He spun you around and pressed you against the car, his lips capturing yours in a heated kiss. You gasped as his tongue slipped into your mouth, exploring and tasting you.

Your arms snaked around his neck, and your fingers ran through his hair. His hands slid down your hips and grabbed your ass, pulling you flush against his body.

His kiss was passionate and needy, and he moaned softly into your mouth. The sound sent a wave of heat through your body, and you felt your panties getting wet.

After a few moments, he pulled back and rested his forehead on yours, both of you panting.

"Right, okay," he said, his breathing heavy.

"Yeah," you breathed, not really sure what to say.

He pulled away and went to open the passenger door for you, but you stopped him. You felt bold and daring, and the alcohol gave you a confidence boost. You motioned to the back door, and he smirked, pushing you up against the car and kissing you again before opening the door.

You climbed in and he followed, his hands grabbing your waist as his lips found yours again. You moaned into the kiss, the heat between your legs intensifying.

The windows fogged up as you undressed, you were grateful for the tinted windows. You moved onto his lap in just your bra and panties, running your fingers through his hair. He kissed your neck and whispered your name.

"We shouldn't do this," you murmured, closing your eyes and tilting your head back.

"I know," he replied, his lips brushing against your ear.

Elijah placed feather-light kisses down your throat, his hands running up and down your back.

"Tell me to stop," he said, his voice thick with desire

"No," you breathed, clutching him tightly.

He reached around your waist and unclasped your bra, gently removing it and tossing it into the front seat. He ran his tongue across your breasts, circling each nipple before taking them into his mouth, sucking gently.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, his hands running up and down your back, cupping your ass and pulling you closer.

You blushed, your heated skin flush against his, feeling his hard cock between your legs.

"So are you," you breathed, kissing his neck and grinding against him.

Elijah groaned, his hand coming down to grip your hip and help guide your movements. You were so turned on, it had been so long since you had sex, and John was never a generous lover. You wanted Elijah so badly, you felt like you were going to combust.

His lips found yours, and you kissed him with everything you had. The heat between the two of you turning into a raging fire.

Suddenly the moment was interrupted by the sound of your phone ringing. You both tried to ignore it, but it just rang again, and again, and again.

You broke the kiss and grabbed your phone, seeing it was your husband calling. "Fuck," you cursed, and you answered it.

"Why haven't you been answering your phone?!" He demanded.

"I've been busy," you replied. Elijah began kissing your neck again, a smirk on his lips as he listened. You suppressed a moan as he began to guide your hips, helping you grind against his hard cock.

"Busy doing what?! Who are you with?!" John shouted.

"I'm just with some friends, don't worry about it," you gasped.

"You don't have any friends," he spat.

"I do," you insisted, trying not to moan as Elijah's hand dipped into your panties.

"What are their names?" John questioned angrily.

"Elijah," you moaned as his thumb brushed your clit.

"The fuck!" John yelled, going completely into a rage. The kind that always frightened you, he always had a short temper.

Elijah could see the fear on your face and took the phone from you, tucking it under his neck as he continued to pleasure you.

"John, is it?" He asked, his voice cool and calm. "This is Elijah, I'm going to need you to calm down, you are scaring your wife," he said.

"Listen, whoever the fuck you are, don't think I won't track you down and fucking kill you," John spat, his anger reaching a boiling point.

Elijah chuckled, slipping a finger inside you and making you moan, you quickly covered your mouth, but Elijah moved your hand away and gave you a wicked grin, still speaking into the phone.

"That's a little violent, don't you think?" He murmured, his eyes never leaving yours. "Besides, I'd love to see you try," he smirked.

John went silent, you could hear his ragged breathing.

"Why do you pretend like you care John? She told me you fuck other people, I mean, who would blame her for finding a real man?" Elijah goaded.

You were shocked by his words, but couldn't deny how hot it was, or how aroused they were making you.

"Listen here motherfucker," John snarled, "she's mine, and I will not allow her to be touched by anyone el-"

Elijah hung up the call and discarded your phone, his eyes dark with lust as he stared at you.

"Now, where were we?" He asked, pulling you closer and kissing you deeply.

"I can't believe that just happened," you said, panting as his lips trailed down your neck.

"You don't need to worry about him anymore," he growled. "You are mine now."

You giggled, rolling your eyes at his possessiveness. But a part of you liked it, it made you feel desired, wanted.

"And I am yours," he added, his lips finding yours again, a deep and passionate kiss.

It started to rain, you could hear the droplets hitting the roof of the car. Making everything seem more intimate, as if it were just the two of you in the entire world.

You reached down and fumbled with the zipper of his pants, he lifted his hips and helped you get them down, his cock springing free. You wrapped a hand around it and began stroking him, his moans sending a thrill through your body.

"You don't ever have to go back to him," he whispered.

"I won't," you promised, your lips finding his once more.

He guided your hips, his cock teasing your entrance, and then you slowly eased down into him. He felt so good, a rush of pleasure coursed through your body. You moaned into his mouth, wrapping your arms around his neck and rocking against him.

The fire between you grew, the windows completely fogged up now. Your skin slick with sweat as you rode him slowly. Foreheads pressed together, you moved in perfect unison, a steady rhythm of passion.

You knew this would change everything, and that things were about to get very complicated. But in that moment, none of that mattered. All you cared about was being with Elijah, the only man who had ever made you feel loved and worthy.

John had taken everything from you, and had made your life miserable for the last ten years. You were trapped and made to feel it was what you deserved. But not anymore.

Elijah had shown you that you were worth more, that you deserved to be loved and cherished. He gave you the tools you needed to leave John, and the strength to do it. You would have never left him without Elijah.

And as you looked into his eyes, your bodies moving together in perfect harmony, you knew this was right, what love was supposed to feel like. You could see the emotions reflected in his eyes, the intensity of his feelings for you, the same intensity you felt.

You felt his muscles tense and knew he was close, his cock swelling inside you. You moved faster, chasing your own orgasm, wanting to come together. You couldn't tear your eyes away from his, and when the waves of pleasure finally crashed over you, it was intense, and he came with you.

The sounds of your moans and heavy breathing filled the car, the rain pattering against the windows. You clung to each other, hearts racing, trying to catch your breath.

As the high slowly faded, you both started laughing, giddy and sated. You pressed a soft kiss to his lips, and he returned it, a smile playing at his mouth.

"I love you," he breathed.

"I love you too," you replied, kissing him again.

He held you tight, his lips finding yours in the darkness. You were finally free, and the world was yours for the taking.

♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡

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[nicksbestie]

Hey! If it’s not too much to ask, could you write a fic where Matt is a little bit tried to hide that he’s slipped from his partner (I don’t mind female or gender neutral :))? Thank you angel 💜💜💜

Hiding - M. Sturniolo

Summary : Despite being incredibly loved and supported, your boyfriend still struggles a lot with anxiety about how he chooses to cope. Good thing you can always tell when he needs you <3

Pairing : Matt Sturniolo/Reader (romantic)

Warnings : mentions of anxiety, worrying

Word Count : 1124

A/N : This is an age regression fic, which is purely safe for work and innocent. Any hate/disrespect towards me, my work, or readers, will not be tolerated.

Your boyfriend was the sweetest person that you had ever met. You had never met someone who was so genuinely kind hearted, despite everything that they had dealt with and been through, and you considered yourself so incredibly lucky to have such a darling person in your life, especially being your partner. He dealt with a lot in his life, especially now that he was a public figure, and you knew that could become incredibly difficult for him. It often showed in his time off of the camera, as his job was not stress free. His anxiety could often be uncontrollable, and it was something that he had struggled with for his entire life. 

He had been through so many coping mechanisms in his life, desperately trying to find something that would ease his worries, and it took him a long time to find something comfortable for him. He took a while before he even told you about it, a little worried and afraid that he would be judged by you, despite knowing that you loved him unconditionally. When he finally told you that he had chosen regression as a coping mechanism, you comforted him with open arms, telling him that you were insanely proud of him, knowing that it had been difficult to overcome the anxiety swelling in his mind to just tell you about it. 

Matt was the sweetest little, his age falling around the toddler range, and he was the most gentle baby you’d ever taken care of. He was quiet, fairly introverted, and extremely cuddly. He was a very loving little one, and he was nearly always happy while he was in headspace. He’s a cute baby, but sometimes, his anxiety follows him into his littlespace. Every now and then, it really got to him, and he was even more attached to you, terrified of the world, trusting you to take care of him and keep him safe. Because of this anxiety sometimes getting to him, during these days, he often fought his regression, feeling extremely self conscious about it, but you were always there to help him relax. 

Today was clearly one of those days. You had noticed that Matt had been picking at his nails a lot, his eyes always darting back and forth, and his body just generally screamed that he was anxious. You had done everything you could to help that day, hugging him lots, texting and telling him lots of words of encouragement, making sure that you were never far from him just in case he needed you. You didn’t know what had caused today to be such a bad day, but it was entirely possible that it was simply just one of those days. Anxiety can be unpredictable, and maybe he had just woken up unlucky today. You were supportive throughout the entire day, ignoring the nagging feeling in your chest, knowing that Matt hadn’t had time to regress in multiple days now. 

When he had to go many days without his form of stress relief, it often caused his anxiety to get a lot worse. You had a feeling that he really needed to have little time, but it was clear that he was busy today. He had a lot to do for filming videos, brand collabs, getting set up to film the next podcast episodes, and he had nearly been working nonstop for the past week. You knew deep down that he needed to relax, but you unfortunately had to wait and support him through the day first. The day continued, they finished filming a car video, and the second that Matt pulled into the garage, you immediately went downstairs to check on him. Nick and Chris thundered out of the car, laughing about some stupid joke, not noticing how Matt threw his head back into the seat, eyes closing, and a deep sigh leaving his lips, before putting his head in his hands. 

You hurriedly opened the door, helping him out of the car and pulling him into a deep hug, helping him walk back up the stairs. His exhaustion was written all over his face, and you could feel it as he let you carry half of his weight. You helped him change into more comfortable clothing, and he immediately threw himself down on the bed, curling up into you when you laid down next to him. You wrapped your arms around him, rubbing his back and running a hand through his hair, gently whispering comforts and praise, noticing the way he slowly went completely silent. You let him lay there in quiet for a while, hugging him, and softly kissing his forehead before speaking. 

“Are you okay, honey?” 

He simply nodded into your chest, not answering, and you had a suspicion that he was slipping, and trying to hide the fact that he was feeling little. You didn’t want to pressure him, wanting to give him the space to tell you himself, but you didn’t think he was going to do that tonight, so you spoke again. 

“Okay, sweetheart. I’m here if you need me, alright bubba?” 

Before you knew it, loud sobs were filling the room, Matt hugging you tighter and attempting to make himself appear smaller, clearly feeling immense levels of fear and embarrassment. Your eyes softened, continuing to comfort him while he cried. 

“Oh, angel. Deep breaths, baby, you’re safe. You’re going to be okay, my love, I’ve got you. Nothing to worry about anymore, honey, I’m going to make sure you’re taken care of.” 

It seemed to only make him cry harder, unable to speak to save his life, simply clinging to you and crying out all of his frustrations into the person he trusted with his life, his most vulnerable headspace. You reassured him, whispering sweet nothings to him while he cried it out, slowly stopping the tears, hiccuping a little bit, and if he wasn’t so sad, you would’ve found it so cute. You gently wiped his tears away, pressing little kisses to his forehead and cheeks, keeping him in your arms so he felt encased, but in the safest possible way. When he cried this hard, and had this bad of a day, he always cried himself right into a nap, and you were patiently expecting it. 

You knew he needed the rest, and you kept him held close to your body, his stuffed animal clutched in his arms, tears drying, and slowly yawning. It didn’t take him long to fall asleep against you, face flushed, and you held him as he slept, knowing that no matter what mood he was in when he woke up, you would always be here to take care of him, and he didn’t have to hide.

~ taglist : @blahbel668 @strnilo @mattsgirlfrieeend @69isabella69 @mayhem-72 @iculdstealurgf @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 @sturnioloslife @heartsforkarina @nervousrebelglitter @sturniclo @elliegrace-7 @mattsturnioloisbae

~ if you'd like to be added to my taglist, click here!

~ my inbox is open, come chat!

[ambers-archive]

what if all i need is you?

2 times the universe conspires against Spencer and the 1 time it doesn't. no use of y/n pt 2

"I think we’re lost," Spencer mumbled, stealing a glance at you, you’re in his passenger seat and you look like a dream he thinks. 

He hates driving, usually avoids it, but watching you smile next to him and hearing you sing along to his favorite songs makes him think it’s not all bad.

"You think?" You laugh, meeting his eye.

He had the date perfectly planned in his head – a tour around the city since you just moved here. Showcasing his favorite bookstore, two tickets to his favorite museum's exhibit, the whole thing.

However, things were not going as planned. He found himself driving in circles, twists and turns multiplying at every corner.

The universe was taunting him.

"I swear, these street signs are conspiring against me," he muttered.

“In the meantime, we should enjoy this,” you suggested, pointing to a barely visible café on the corner, proposing an impromptu coffee stop.

With a slight smile tugging his lips, Spencer nodded.

“You’re in Med school?

Spencer asked, trying to hide his amazement.

It all makes sense now, he thinks. Rarely does he find someone who matches him intellectually, even rarer for him to enjoy conversations with them.

“I am! I know it’s a cliché saying, but I just want to help people, I want to make a difference in the world.”

“It’s not cliché at all, that’s really noble.” Spencer replied, a genuine smile forming on his face. The passion in your voice is like a breath of fresh air for him.

You blushed at the compliment, warmth spreading across your cheeks. "Thank you. It's not easy, but it's worth it if I can make a positive impact, even in a small way."

As if you took the words right out of Spencer’s mouth, hearing you made him realize the reason he started the BAU. 

And oh how beautiful it is to have that passion.

For so long, his work had only consisted of repetition; the work that had brought him happiness was now draining him of it all. His thoughts are audible emanating from your lips.

To make a difference, and just for a little while, listening to you happily describe your passion, the horrors of his job, which once clutched his heart so deeply, slowly started to fade.

“Where to next, Doctor?” 

“I hope you like museums, I was able to get us tickets to one of my favorite exhibits.” 

“Lead the way.” 

“I agree; the universe is not happy with you right now,” you laughed, both stranded in the middle of nowhere as his car broke down under the afternoon sun.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve this,” he sighed, opening your car door. Taking his hand you led him towards the field, there were worse places to be stranded in you thought. 

“If we call for a cab right now, we can reach the museum in an hour, depending on traffic. We’ll miss the first half hour or so, but—”

“Spencer, look! The sun is setting.” You walked off into the distance, taking a seat near a tree.

“We’re going to miss the show.” He said disappointed. You looked up at him and the orange glow casted a beautiful hue over your face. Just when he thought you couldn't get prettier.

“No matter how much you try in life, you’re bound to miss something. Just take in the moment right now.” You say, patting the seat on the grass next to you.

To his own surprise, he obliges. 

He doesn’t mean to profile you, but it’s a reflex, a defense mechanism. Being around serial killers and rapists, he needs to know their every move. But right now, being in your apartment as you give him a tour, he lets go.

Realizing he doesn’t have to know everything about you right away; he can take his time.

He expected your room to be something like a catalog magazine, but books, plants, and paintings you've made surrounded you.

Messy maximalist, you called it.

Spencer learns you hate minimalism, you hate gray white empty spaces that don't feel like home.

He is almost envious of how carefree you are, willing to wear your heart out on your sleeve. Your guard has been down the whole time, a luxury Spencer can’t afford.

“Can I offer you some tea? I recently perfected my mom’s recipe for chai,” You asked, already boiling the water and getting your tea bags together.

“Tea sounds amazing.”

He looks around, forming a profile in his brain.

You’re messy, but you somehow find beauty in it. It doesn’t bother you; it makes sense, he thinks.

Artistic people are commonly messy.

“What books do you like?” Spencer asks, watching you get two mismatched cups out.

“I love classic literature, Persuasion is one of my favorites. I love Jane Austen and the way she captures love in its most pure form."

“How would you define love?” It’s a question that has been nagging him, he wants to pick apart your brain and know every thought.

He can tell you’re a hopeless romantic, and he now wishes he had accepted Garcia’s movie night invitation to watch Jane Austen movies.

He already has a sense, knowing you love classic period pieces, but he just wants to hear your explanation for it. 

“In Med school they teach us that love is a complex emotion, a bunch of hormones: dopamine, oxytocin, and serotonin in the brain. I can’t say much about hormones but love is life, and it's just peaceful like the slow water going down a stream. But an immediate phenomenon, much like life itself. It fills and empties you all at once, swirling like a river's water after a storm. Your hands, heart, stomach, and skin are just a few places on your body where you can feel it. And it overtakes you so intensely. You don’t even realize it until you’re in it. You can’t exist without it, love is like breathing.” You sigh, a shy smile overtaking your lips “Sorry i tend to rant a lot.” 

Spencer meets your smile. It feels nice to be on the receiving end of someone rambling.  “I don’t mind one bit. I knew you were an artist but I didn’t peg you for a writer.”

“Have you been profiling me, Doctor Reid?” you ask, he smiles avoiding your gaze.

“Most writers are artistic people; that is, they are imaginative, creative, and productive when working in an environment that promotes self-expression. Not to mention you mentioned journalism being your minor, also I saw you had a typewriter.”

“You're amazing, Spencer,” you say, taking the kettle off the stove, pouring two cups of chai.

Spencer whispers your name, and you look over, your name falls so easily through his lips. This is what was missing from your life, you think.

“I think you’re one of the most unique people I’ve ever met.”

He says, taking your hand, interlocking your fingers.

You graze your thumb over his knuckles squeezing his hand, meeting his brown eyes. And as if the universe was on his side for once you lean forward, your lips meeting his. Lips meddling into each other as if it was made just for you.

The morning sun is beating down on his small car, and there you are sitting in his passenger seat laughing at his horrible jokes.

Your favorite songs playing in the background. You smile at him, and Spencer is lost again, but not because of the street signs. He's just lost in your smile.

This is what was missing from his life Spencer thinks.

[thecoolerliauditore]

What are your thoughts on SL Gem? I’m genuinely interested to hear your take on her character.

So first off I haven't fully watched Gem's SL POV, nor do I feel totally confident talking about her in a traffic series sense since she's lacking screentime even more than Ren. So this one's gonna be less grain of salt and more. salt mines. do not take it seriously

Gem's character to me is defined by her bravado and natural affinity for leadership but also by her pseudo-crush on not Pearl, but Scarlet Pearl specifically.

I feel like I've made too many cynical jokes about gempearl being evil to me, I don't think they're like. Bad for eachother necessarily in fact incorporating HC into things they're one of the pairs in the series I personally headcanon as hanging out post-horrors (not necessarily in a fully fledged capital r Relationship just. they're hanging out).

But I do think there's something very fangirl-ish about the way Gem idolizes Scarlet Pearl and encourages Pearl to lean more into the character, when Scarlet Pearl has always been more of a coping mechanism. Like, whoa that thing you did to protect yourself and only made things worse is SO COOL. Which is both what is really genuinely awesome about gempearl and what is really scary about it. To me at least. Gem takes all the things Pearl hates about herself and thinks they're Awesome, Actually but doesn't understand why Pearl hates those things in the first place and how they hurt both her and the people around her.

It's all bookended really well too, since Gem despite all her efforts still ends up on the other end of Pearl's knife in the final episode and suddenly it's not so awesome anymore.

On the non-pearl-related side of things, Gem kinda lands in the same hunger games career-esque personality that I box people like Scott, Joel and Martyn into in that she's very much in her element in the death games (until she's not).

I've seen people say she reminds them of how the cast acted back in 3L and SL being her introductory season i.e. her having not quite yet experienced The Horrors would make that make a lot of sense. Especially when she takes death very lightly until her allies start permadying (e.g. her happily accepting Scott's sacrifice and even hitting him around for fun at one point and leading the zombie apocalypse task but being a mess when Scott asks her to kill him the last time). There's this great contrast with her being incredibly confident and capable yet very naive.

The misogynist in me wants to see her knocked down a few more pegs but at the same time she already kind of has. Idk I hope the asuka-coded behaviour rears full-blast next season instead of kind of being in the background. It would be awesome. character arcs and whatnot.

As for like. more miscellaneous headcanons. I think there's pretty much a bit of boy inside every girl but Gem especially I like to think over-performs aspects of femininity to "make up for" her uber-competitive personality. Everything she does is underlined with insecurity to me, apparently. She's also a lesbian.

[shiratamahatsumiyo]

Gun Park with a Gyutaro reader

...Uh, hey guys. I forgot to mention that I don't really take requests and my fics are mostly self indulgent and I only write when I'm in the mood. I'm really sorry for not telling you guys beforehand. @aline1701, if you're reading this, please take this fic as an apology.

Gyutaro is the main antagonist of Demon Slayer's Entertainment District Arc. He is one of the demons of the 12 Kizuki, specifically sharing the rank of upper moon 6 with his younger sister, Daki. He was born with congenital syphilis which is the reason why he is so ugly in the first place (his words, not mine). He and his sister were later on slain together by demon hunters.

• So you're born ugly..... Meh.

• At least you have a beautiful sister that follows you wherever you go. You guys are two peas in a pod as you've suffered the same circumstances despite having different appearances.

• Helicopter brother Gyutaro? Helicopter brother Gyutaro. Except the helicopter being a motorcycle.

• Whenever your sister Ume is in trouble, you join her and cause more trouble. But you're still pretty protective of her... You don't want to have a nasty burn on her again...

• It's not like your sister is weak, she's just, well... Naive. Like, when an enemy doesn't fight back, she mistook it as weakness. When a person is ugly or pathetic, she mistook it as weakness. When a person is ordering her around and being ignorant, she mistook it as weakness. It's probably one of her defense mechanisms but you're not the one to blame here, right? I mean, you guys have suffered a lot worse than these people but still remained strong.

• The Twelve Kizuki was the only way for you and your sister to gain power and make the others pay for all the pain that you've endured... Even being one of Muzan's favorites, you still didn't like how he called Ume stupid and he even manipulated her with his sweet-talk. Oh well, at least it's a way to motivate her.

• You were just beating up these guys for Muzan when your big brother instincts suddenly kicked in. Huh, it's rare for Ume to call for help... Is her prey that strong? My, how troublesome.

Gyutaro, casually strolls across bruised and bloody bodies: "...... I SENSE A DISTURBANCE IN THE AIR--"

• You immediately ran to your motorcycle and started tracking down Ume, then you remembered something about Muzan giving her a mission at this location that's just several building away. By the time you get there, you saw Ume sitting defeatedly injured on the ground, crying, and throwing a tantrum about how unfair the fighter is. The said fighter began to walk towards her and attempts to kick her head. You throw your sickle into his shin and he stops, amazed by the fact that he didn't see it coming and that you just calmly begin to comfort your sister...

Gyutaro, crouching to check Ume's injuries: "There, there now, I'm here. Don't cry, tears doesn't suit a strong and beautiful fighter like you. You're the pretty one, so you're supposed to take care of your face, alright?"

Daki, intensely sobbing: "Nii-chan! Where were you?! I tried calling for you but you arrived too late!! Now look at me... MY BEAUTIFUL FACE IS RUINED!!!"

Gyutaro: "I'm sorry, I'm sorry... I promise I won't keep you waiting next time. At least remember to breathe to stop the bleeding, okay? Nii-chan will be taking things from here. "

Daki: "It's that imbecile over there! He did this to me! I fought fair and square but he cheated! This is unfair.... I HATE THIS. KILL HIM!! KILL HIM NOW!!!"

• After comforting your sister, you stood and walk towards the fighter and started having a face-off...

???: "Oh? Who the hell are you? It pisses me off when a good fight is interrupted, y'know. "

Gyutaro: "Too bad. You're gonna have to pay for what you've done to my sister... after all, she had to do everything to win this battle and managed to endure this far with her small brain... "

???: "....."

???: "...Did you just call her a dumbass?"

Gyutaro, scratching intensely: "Shut the hell up! It's not like you're a dumbass too, fighting with another gang without reinforcements. "

???: "I don't need reinforcements. I can beat you just fine."

Gyutaro: " ...HAHAHAHA! LOOK AT THIS COCKY JACKASS! I bet you're so rich that you don't even need to fight fair. You think you're so strong that you can take another fighter that just drove a blade to your leg?! DON'T MAKE ME LAUGH!"

???: "So now you're challenging me? WHY DON'T YOU COME CLOSER AND PROVE TO ME THAT YOU'RE THE BETTER FIGHTER!"

Gyutaro: "Of course. How will I beat the shit out of you if I don't?! IN FACT, WHY DON'T YOU MAKE THE FIRST MOVE?!!"

Daki, getting impatient: "WHY DON'T YOU BOTH SHUT THE FUCK UP AND JUST FIGHT ALREADY?!?!?!"

• During the fight, the fighter with sunglasses was weakened after getting stabbed by your poisoned sickles and staggered a little. Meanwhile your fatigue only increased the more the opposing fighter attacked you, eventually resulting in tie.

???, panting: "...You fight... *pant*... well. It's been a long time since I...*pant*.... Fought a real fight... "

Gyutaro: "Your not... *pant*... So bad yourself... Makes me almost feel bad ...*pant*... It'll be a waste of potential if I kill you... Hmmm, I know! How about you join us? Our gang can make you even stronger and richer than whatever amount of money your employer is giving you."

Daki: "Nii-chan! You can't do that! I won't allow it--"

Gyutaro: " Aw c'mon, sis. It's just an invitation before I kill... Uhh..."

Gun: "Gun Park."

Gyutaro: "Yeah, whatever your stupid name is. So, wanna join?"

Gun: "...I have unfinished business. "

Gyutaro, scratching intensely: "Hah... These smallfries are starting to tick me off--"

Gun: "How about you work with me?"

Gyutaro: "After you rejected my offer? Nah, I'll pass."

• Weirdly enough, you and this Gun guy actually get along, minus for Ume still being salty about her defeat. You even get to know more and meet Goo, who you find relatable considering his high regard for money but you have urges to sever his hands if he lays one on Ume. You and Gun spar sometimes, but not often because of the opposing companies of Muzan Kibutsuji and Charles Choi, so you end up having a friendly rivalry that on other times turn violent.

• You didn't care if he kills the other upper moons... You just hope that he stays away from your sister. And even if he does kill her for his job, you'll be the first one to behead him.

[ax-y10]

✮ knock ✮

in which- you have a fear of showing too much of your own skin due to past dreams and coincidences, but wilbur is there to help.

chapter info- mentions of private areas, mentions of fears, descriptions of nudity, descriptions of past situations, just a vent fic essentially

a/n- i made this as a sort of vent/coping mechanism because i needed to get this out somewhere to make myself feel better so here you go

pronouns- none (you/yours)

masterlist-

you're sat in your boyfriend's bedroom, a frown present on your face and hot tears running down your face. maybe this wasn't worth getting so worked up about but it reminded you too much of years ago.

when you were in grade five, you'd had a dream where you were naked at school, beginning your fear of being judged by everyone. a year later in grade six, you had another dream about being naked at school, and that heightened your fear, if not hatched your fear of showing skin.

to make things worse, you've had multiple occasions where someone you know, whether it be family or close friends, has walked in on you changing, ultimately making your fear of showing skin ten times worse.

you'd swear that you would rather die than show skin to anyone in close relation to you. if you had to do one thing before you died, showing skin was the last on that list. it was your last resort, barely that. showing skin was never an option for you.

you'd been pressured by beauty standards, peer pressure, and wanting to seem more confident that once you did finally show a tiny bit of skin, it all went haywire, and every girl you walked past gave you weird stares or even just laughed at you as you walked past. you were never and never will be known for showing skin. you'll always be known as the girl who has self-esteem issues, hates showing skin. the amount of times you've been called a pick-me for the way you dress has you fuming at the statement.

and now, your boyfriend accidentally walking in on you showering has sent you back into a horrible spiral of worries and concerns and fears, breaking down into hysterics on his bed.

did wilbur know you were sobbing in his bedroom? no. he was in the kitchen cooking dinner for you both. were you desperately trying to calm yourself down without wilbur's help? yes, and it sure as hell wouldn't work with him not there.

"darling?" his voice from the other side of the door startled you enough to break you out of whatever bad thoughts were strangling your head.

"i have dinner," he'd state, before the handle of the door slowly starts turning.

"no! not yet. give me a second!" you yelled from his bed, scurrying into his bathroom and throwing on one of his sweaters he'd left in there for you.

it was silent. at least on the outside of his room. inside however? your mental rambling had started back up again and was attacking you.

a minute passed. two minutes passed. three minutes passed. five minutes passe-

"sweetheart, i'm gonna come in. something's wrong,"

his large figure in the doorway was inching it's way towards you, causing you to move back with each of his steps.

"oh, my love, what's wrong?" fuck. he'd caught on.

you were silent. all your communication skills were out the window.

"c'mere" his voice soft, calm, and collected rang through your ears.

and before you could blink, your head was nuzzled in his neck, your arms tightening around his shoulders as you clung to him, you legs bent uncomfortably underneath you, and your tears soaking into his shoulder.

he was happy to stay there all night if you needed, happy to let you cry it out, happy to listen, happy to talk. as long as you were okay.

"knock before you walk into the bathroom if i'm in there, please?"

"no problem, darling. have some pasta and rest easy and you can talk about it more if needed when you wake up, alright?" he paused, took a deep breath, and continued., "i'm right here, always. i'll stay with you tonight, okay? i love you,"

and all you can remember was the warmth of his arms before you fell asleep.

[beom-pyu]

inside out ☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★ choi beomgyu

choi beomgyu x g!n reader , tags: established relationship , non idol au , angst w a slightly happy ending <3

warnings: arguing, name calling (only "stupid", but just in case!), past toxic relationships, not explicitly stated but gyu's ex cheated on him, almost breaking up, shared tears, gyu has bad coping mechanisms, cheating accusations, mentions of therapy (this is not glorifying toxic relationships!)

wc: 2.3k>

request

beomgyu is silent during your drive home from the party, one hand on the wheel and the other under his chin as if he's deep in thought. you feel anxious in the silence, shifting around in your seat, glancing over at him every few seconds.

this had been your dynamic all night and you have no idea why. he had seemed so excited to go your friend's get together, nearly bouncing off the walls before you two left; but by the time you were settled with a drink in your hand, it was as if a switch had flipped in beomgyu's head and he turned stone cold. you tried to not let it get to you, but you couldn't help that sinking feeling in your gut when he would barely talk to you.

you had excused yourself from the conversation you were having with your close friend, yeonjun, standing up to find beomgyu in the kitchen, sipping on a can of sprite.

"hey, gyu," you spoke softly, trying not to show how bothered you really were. maybe he was just tired, or didn't feel well. you hated jumping to conclusions, but your mind raced with a million thoughts and it made you dizzy. all beomgyu did was hum in response as you leaned into his side, looking up at him. "you okay, baby?"

"yep." beomgyu's lips pressed into a thin line, his eyebrows raising with the slightest hint of annoyance, but you didn't miss the expression. you felt a little hurt, but you tried to think of any possibility that didn't involve you being the culprit of his sour mood.

"y/n, come look at this!" yeonjun called from the living room, a few of your friends doubled over in laughter from a video playing from his phone.

"one sec!" you shouted from where you stood before turning your attention back to beomgyu. "you coming?"

"nah, i'll stay here," beomgyu forced a smile towards you, his eyes not quite bunching up into the pretty crescent moons you were used to.

"you sure...? we can leave if you're not feeling well," you pouted, reaching up to brush some hair out of his eyes. beomgyu leaned into your touch, but shook his head in response.

"no, i'm okay. go ahead."

and maybe you should've stayed next to him. maybe you should've insisted on leaving—but then your name was called again and again, and you finally left beomgyu's side.

if something was wrong, he'd tell you, right?

right?

that proved to be false as you ride home in silence, the only noise coming from the tap of his fingers on the steering wheel and the hum of the car.

you want to ask him what's wrong, but this has happened before, too many times to count, and you know it'll just end up in an argument so you try to keep your lips shut. his hand isn't on your thigh like it usually is and he won't even look at you. the uncertainty is eating away at you slowly and the words that spill out of your mouth without a second thought.

"gyu… did i do something?"

a beat of silence passes, and then another, and then another, and then another, before he finally sighs.

"no."

the word comes out thick and rough, and you both know he's lying to prevent any arguments as well. his answer makes you feel even worse and you curl in on yourself, turning your head to look out the window.

"you can just tell me if i did something to upset you," you say under your breath. you know he heard. you wanted him to hear.

beomgyu is silent again and you get the sudden urge to cry. you're sensitive about things like this, still scarred from your last relationship. it's not beomgyu's fault that you react this way— moments like these just give you the worst deja vu and you can't help it.

"can we talk when we get home?" your voice has no strength, cutting off into a mumble near the end. you can hear beomgyu shift in his seat.

"yeah."

and the car is silent again. it's silent as you head up the elevator to your apartment. it's silent as you take your shoes off and arrange them nicely by the front door. it's silent as you anxiously wait on the couch while beomgyu showers before going in for your own, the mirror still damp with condensation. you hate showering separately.

the air in your shared bedroom is thick as you walk in. suddenly, the air is too cold and you curse yourself for choosing to wear shorts to sleep. you head over to your vanity to do the rest of your skincare routine while beomgyu shuffles about the room behind you.

you know he wants to say something, but he doesn't. and it's driving you crazy.

you try to think of everything, anything you could have possibly done to make beomgyu upset, but nothing comes to mind. heavy guilt sits on your shoulders for something you have no idea you even did.

you're always the first to speak in situations like this. you know how beomgyu is. he shuts down until you both forget about the problem or end up in an explosive fight and you really don't want either of those things to happen.

you wish he felt more comfortable being open and honest with you, but that was his own baggage to unpack. you have been together for a year and there is still so much you haven't learned about him yet. you want to know. you want this to work.

you take a deep breath, standing to walk over to where beomgyu stood at the dresser, digging through one of the drawers to pick out a shirt to sleep in.

"beomgyu," you start, your voice soft and open. you don't want this to be a fight—you just want to talk.

beomgyu glances up at you before looking back down in his drawer. it never takes that long to pick out a t-shirt to sleep in.

"hm?" he replies, refusing to look at you. you sigh, wringing your hands nervously in front of you. you shouldn't be this anxious, you really shouldn't, but the vile feeling crawls up your spine and curls around your throat and everything feels a little too warm all of a sudden.

he's mad at you. he's mad at you. he's mad at you.

"are you mad at me?"

beomgyu's movements pause for a moment before continuing.

"no, i'm not mad at you."

your anxiousness begins to mix with frustration at the words. why is he beating around the bush? if he has something to say, he should just say it. you try to contain your emotions, scanning his face for any sign of what he’s thinking. his eyebrows are tightly nit together, his lips are stiff, and his shoulders are tense. you want nothing more than to reach over and wrap him up in your arms.

"why were you upset tonight? you barely talked to me at the party," you start, arms crossed over your chest, a frown settled onto your lips. beomgyu scoffs at the words, lifting his head to finally look you in the eye.

"well maybe if you weren't fucking flirting with yeonjun right in front of me, i could've had space to talk to you," beomgyu sneers, his eyes glaring into yours. you feel a hot flash course through your body, your brows furrowing in confusion.

"beomgyu, what are you talking about? i wasn't flirting with yeonjun!" you feel sick at beomgyu even thinking to accuse you of something like that.

"yes you were, y/n! he was all over you and you just... you just let him! laughing and shit like he was the funniest guy in the world," beomgyu rolled his eyes, his voice raising slightly in tone.

it's as if everything goes from 0 to 100, the tension rising in the room quickly. your palms are sweaty and you can hear your heartbeat pounding in your ears, trying to not let the hot tears stinging from your eyes spill over. you're an angry crier and you hate it.

everyone in the world knows you and yeonjun are just friends, strictly friends, and that's it. you have been friends longer than you and beomgyu have been together. what surprised you the most is that beomgyu has never shown any type of discomfort with your friendship, so you have no idea where any of this is coming from.

"you know we're just friends. why is it suddenly a problem?" your voice is filled with tiredness and frustration, coming out weaker than intended. beomgyu, on the other hand, seems to be getting angrier and angrier with each word that leaves your mouth.

"are you fucking stupid, y/n? anyone could see how close you guys were tonight. stop acting like you didn't notice." his words are sharp and pierce through you, his head looking back down at the drawer despite already having a shirt in his hands.

"what the fuck, beomgyu?" your words crack on the last syllable. through all the arguments you have had, he has never had it in his right mind to degrade you, out of all things.

that was when you broke, the tears spilling past your eyes before you could even attempt to hold them back, hands shaking at your sides.

beomgyu wasn't looking at you—instead, his gaze was frozen the shirt gripped in his hand. his eyes looked far away and his chest was rising and falling at an unnatural rhythm.

"this isn't going to work," beomgyu whispers, dropping the shirt back into the drawer with a sigh. you watch as he tilts his head back to blink away incoming tears.

you feel that nasty feeling sitting deep in your gut because you know. you know these arguments aren't sustainable for a healthy relationship. you've ranted to your friends one too many times and went to bed crying one too many times.

your tears won't stop falling, and you're sure beomgyu can hear your quiet hiccups—nonetheless, he doesn’t move an inch.

"let's just go to bed," beomgyu mumbles, but you shake your head even though he's not looking in your direction.

"no, gyu, we need—we need to talk about this." you sound desperate, voice watery from your hot tears as you take a few steps closer to him.

"there's nothing to talk about. you look happier with yeonjun. i should just—i should just leave and—"

"will you stop for once, beomgyu? just stop, please." you reach up to touch his arm and that's when you see the steady stream of tears leaving his own eyes.

your heart shatters into a million pieces. this is the man you love, the man you're in love with, and you have no idea what's going through his head. your hand trails down his arm to find his shaky hand, interlacing your fingers together.

he doesn't pull away.

"i—i don't know what i can say right now to convince you that you are the only one i have eyes for. the only one i want to see every day. the only one i want to kiss and hug and touch and love," you begin softly, looking up at beomgyu who has his eyes squeezed shut. “but it’s the truth, gyu. i won’t let you leave after something so trivial.”

beomgyu’s tears pick up at the words, shaking his head as you speak. his eyes are full of guilt and regret as steps a little closer to you, squeezing your hand like it’s his lifeline. 

"i'm sorry. i’m sorry for calling you stupid. i’m so sorry," his eyes are rimmed red and your heart breaks at the sight. "i just—fuck y/n... i'm terrified of losing you. i just get so insecure when i see you have more fun with someone else and i can just picture you leaving me and it drives me fucking insane."

you nod slowly, acknowledging his feelings and taking a moment to actually hear him. amidst all the anger and insecurities, nothing but fondness sits in your heart when you look up at your boyfriend's face. he's struggling with his own battles, and all you can do is be there for him.

"we... we can work through this, gyu. i don't want anybody else, but you. i only need you."  your tears don't stop as you pull him closer, his body melting into yours as he cries into your hair.

"i don't know, gyu. maybe we can try therapy, if that's something you'd like. we'll go together, okay? we'll find a way," you speak into his warm chest and you feel him nod and let go of your hand briefly to wrap his arms around your waist. his body melts into yours as burying his face into your neck, inhaling the scent of your body wash.

"yeah, i'd like that," he replies and you let out a relieved breath of laughter.

"i love you. i’ll remind you every single day if that’s what you need," you mumble, a hand coming up to draw patterns on his chest as you guys rock side to side.

"i know. i'm sorry," beomgyu whispers back, kissing your neck softly. "i love you. so, so much."

reblogs are highly cherished! ★

masterlist

©️BEOM-PYU

[strangecloud]

I mean no hate or disrespect when I say that Fallout 4 has what is probably the worst story I've seen in a videogame.

I want to preface this with the fact that I enjoy Fallout 4. That game is mad fun. Shooting feels good, exploring is nice, the crafting is very well done. It's a high quality release as far as I'm concerned and I deeply enjoy it. And I don't even mean that it's the worst quality story I've ever seen, but it is a very awkward fit for the game it's in.

The most interesting thing about it is that it's a reversal from Fallout 3. Instead of searching for your dad, you're searching for your son. And there's so much that doesn't really work and is executed poorly on that front.

Remember how Todd made a big deal about how you could name your character something like "Fuckface" and your pet robot would actually refer to you by name? That always seemed weird to me. Not just that it only really works for this one robot, but also that it happens with your player character. I always thought it would work way better if you could name your kid instead, and have that also happen on a slightly larger scale. It's a step in solving one of the main problems in Fallout 4, which is that your family isn't very interesting or fun to care about.

You get to customize both Nate and Nora, and it just feels like a waste to have one of them killed off. If you could meet them and either work alongside or fight against them would have given the relationship so much more dynamism and also reward you for getting invested in your character's family, instead of all of them just being plot devices to deliver a bad twist about your son not being a baby and also the villain.

And you know, in isolation maybe those things don't seem like a problem. The cool thing about games is that you can largely ignore their plots and just engage with them on a mechanical level, but there's so much badgering that the story does to the player in Fallout 4. I've seen worse stories but Fallout 4's is the only one that will not leave me the fuck alone and keeps asking my opinions on things and people and places and factions that I simply don't care about.

When I say it's the worst story it's because it's hard to enjoy and even harder to ignore. It makes me not want to play the game, which no story in any game has ever done before. Which is a shame, because the game is absolutely worth playing but I can't be doing with this writing man.

[jacksfandomrandom]

~Flare up~

Vaggie has bad chronic back pain even after she gets her wings back. what will happen when you pain flares up and she tries to hide it, making it worse?

Having wings was the best and the worst in Vaggies opinion. She was no longer intimidated by tall shelves, she could kiss Charlie on the forehead, she had a height advantage in battle finally, and Charlie thought they looked hot. But a few downsides were definitely having to preen them, the reminders of heaven, and oh yeah, her back pain got worse. She used to have chronic pain from the trauma her back endured when her wings were ripped off. It was basically like someone ripping your leg off. She had a lot of phantom pains but unfortunately they got worse when she did get her wings back. Why did they get worse? Her back now had to work a lot more and she had to use her core more when flying. It made her back sore almost all the time. Unfortunately, she would also get intense flair ups. Basically, it was when her already sore back would get increased pain at random times. Sometimes it was brought on by something or it was just random.

In order to stop Charlie from worrying whenever her flair ups would happen, she would try to hide them the best she could. She knew it wasn’t the best to lie but she didn’t want her partner to spend a lot of time on her when she could be worrying about the hotel. If she knew, she might suggest that she stay out of bad situations in case her pain was flaring up. That would be horrible because then Vaggie wouldn’t be able to protect her princess.

However, one day, that all changed.

Vaggie was helping out with the activities as normal, trying to work on redeeming Angel and doing things that were personalized to helping him. They were doing a bean bag toss game mixed with a therapy lesson where every time you missed the whole, you had to restate the coping mechanism you would use when you have urges.

It was Vaggie’s turn to toss and she made it in the hole first try. Alastor came up from behind her and slapped her back. 

“Great job, dear!” He congratulated her with a very mocking smile. She couldn’t even pay attention as she felt pain building up. It was getting mighty strong that she could barely move. She held her breath, trying to wait for it to pass but it didn’t.

“Oi, Toots, mind moving?” Angel asked as it was now his turn.

“R-right, sorry,” She tries her best to move back to the end of the line. Charlie could sense something was wrong and went up to her.

“Babe, are you okay, that seemed to have really hurt you,” Charlie asked with worry in her voice.

“Y-yeah, the slap just scared me is all,” She assured. Charlie left her alone, trusting her partner enough.

As the activity went on, the flare up got worse. It continued to build up with every moment. Her head was starting to throb in coherence with her back. It was actual torture just trying to move. She didn’t even try when her turn came next to throw the bag. It caused her so much agony.

Charlie could tell something was up with vaggie. She was acting so secretive but also like she was suffering. She hated seeing her partner hurt and tried to talk to her about it again but Vaggie quickly changed and avoided the topic.

When Vaggies turn came once again, she was scared. She was now feeling really lightheaded and the agony was horrible. She wanted to rip the flesh out of her back. She just wanted the pain to go away. It took everything for her to not moan and whimper in pain with every step she took to get to the front. When she bent over to pick up the bag, she felt her legs start to shake and her vision was getting wonking. She stood back up and swayed.

The pain suddenly reached its peak. She grunted and fell to the floor, almost passing out in the process.

“Vaggie!” Charlie ran up to her and sat down with her on the floor and set her head in her lap.

Vaggie whimpered, not being able to keep up the mask anymore. Her breathing was labored and heavy. She gripped tightly to Charlies pant leg.

“It hurts…so bad. Make it go away…” she cried softly. It was too much. She needed help. Now she had to ask for it.

“What hurts?” Charlie asked with concern filling her voice. After getting more whines in return, she asked again, “Please tell me, baby,” 

“B-back. F-flare up…” Vaggie whimpered. Even talking made her pain worse. She was sweating from shoving the feelings down.

Luckily, Charlie knew what this meant. She knew that Vaggie had chronic pain and flare ups but never knew they were this bad. Vaggie would only ask for a painkiller, saying it wasn’t bad enough that she needed anything more. Charlie always offered to give her a massage but Vaggie always turned her down, saying that it really wasn’t that bad. And of course, she believed her.

So, when Vaggie told her about the flare ups, crying, Charlie knew it was bad. 

“Angel, go grab an ice pack from the freezer, Husk, get an over-the-counter painkiller from the medicine cabinet in the bathroom,” She commanded. The two split up, grabbing the things, now knowing how serious this was due to Charlie’s tone.

“It’s okay, sweetie, the pain will be gone soon, I promise,” She tightly embraced her head and kissed her forehead. Charlie gently tried to massage her back.

“a-AH” Vaggie yelped in pain. Charlie quickly took her hands back, seeing the negative reaction. 

Angel returned with multiple ice packs and a heating pad, just in case. He used to have flare ups in his back from when he first started his porn career, so he knew how to deal with them. He wasn’t used to the intense work days so he would often have back pain.

“Here. If these don’t work in the next five to ten minutes, try the heating pad instead,” he advised. Charlie mumbled a thank you before placing them everywhere on Vaggies back. Charlie was still sitting on the floor, criss-cross, with Vaggies head in her lap.

Husk came back with a water bottle and a bottle of pills. He handed them to Chralie and she proceeded to take two out.

“Open up, honey,” She told Vaggie in a soft and calming voice. Vaggie moved her head slightly and opened her mouth. Charlie set the two pills in her mouth and held the water to her lips. After she swallowed the water, making the pills go down, she laid her head back down in her lap.

After about 4 minutes of Vaggie laying down on Charlie, she stopped whimpering. Charlie saw this as progress. Everyone was sitting around them, waiting anxiously. It scare them to see their strongest shoulder cry in pain due to back problems. They could only imagine how bad it must be. 

Finally after about 12 minutes, the pain died down. She felt so much better, but still kept her head in her lap. It felt nice. Her lap was warm and comforting. Any parts of Charlie were warm and comforting if she’s being honest.

“M sorry for making you all worry,” She apologized. Being a burden to people made her feel a bit weird and awkward. She doesn’t know how to react because she wasn’t used to people caring.

“Ay, don’t worry ‘bout it, toots. I understand how bad d’ees flare ups can get. If ya ever want to talk ‘bout it, I’m here,” Angel told her. Even though they fought a lot, he still tried to bond with her in ways.

“Thanks…” Vaggie mumbled tiredly. All that agony really tuckered her out. And Charlie was extremely comfy and she wanted to savor the moment.

“How about we move you to bed?” Charlie asked. 

“Mk” she replied. Charlie handed the ice packs and heating pad to Angel before lifting her fallen angel up. The pornstar followed them up to their room and helped Vaggie get situated. They had her lie on her stomach on the bed with the ice packs on top of her.

Even though she hated being a burden to people, it was nice to know that people actually care about her. She wasn’t very used to it because of how brutal heaven was. But she was slowly getting better and that's all that mattered.

[spiders-scare-me]

noir hcs

(these are hcs, not actual canon so these are things that are made up and NOT based off the comics)

hc him as 19 yrs old.

joined the spider society because he thought he maybe could do some good by helping others, only to regret it later. genuinely thinks Miguel is kinda a facist.

he also doesn’t regret joining the society because he got to spend time with Ham, Gwen, Peni, Hobie etc.

he and hobie bonded over similar views, became best friends for the last four ish months before Noir quit.

quit because he generally had a bad feeling about miguel, but got worse when he referred to robbie’s death as a canon event.( https://www.tumblr.com/lildoodlenoodle/720268522059612160/if-spider-noir-wasnt-kicked-off-the-elite-spider ) (based off of)

taught hobie how to pickpocket/steal things in different places/shops before he quit. especially shops in Noirs dimension where it was easier to put something in your pocket and leave without anybody noticing.

( https://www.tumblr.com/butevrythinggoesaway/719504366077345792/i-kind-of-headcanon-noir-as-having-kelptomania-so ) (inspired)

Miguel hates him, probably because Noir rivals him in size and also questions the way Miguel runs things around the spider society.

(Miguel is canonically 6’9 and i hc Noir as around 6’5)

Miguel once asked (very rudely) in front of hobie, if Noir only dated Hobie because he was similar to Robbie. You can only IMAGINE what Noir almost did (aka assassinate Miguel) before he was stopped by most spider people who are loyal to Miguel. Basically, Noir went even more crazy because of that since Miguel uses Robbie as a way to get to him.

Noir in fact didn’t want to date anyone because of some stuff that happened, but when he met Hobie and got to know him, he instantly fell in love.

Miguel simply hates Noir, but can’t fire him or kick him out for no reason so Miguel picks on him until he snaps.

he acts like Peni’s older brother, being protective of her. she became depressed after he quit the spider society because she really cared about him.

most likely smokes, Peni hates it and always takes his cigarette from him to put it out. has dumped water on him multiple times. Hobie also puts out Noirs cigarette when he sees him smoking.

humor is his coping mechanism, example (my interpretation of the scenes):

when miles said his uncle was the prowler, Noir responded with “this is a pretty hardcore origin story” which sounds like he’s trying to make the situation a bit lighter by joking a bit.

as well as when aunt may asked if they could fight doc ock outside, he replied with “We don’t pick the ballroom, we just dance”

another one: when he, peni and ham met gwen, miles and peter for the first time, peter asked noir how they got there and he answered with “it’s a long story” only to say right after “maybe not that long”

(I INTERPRET THIS AS HUMOR FIGHT ME)

Hobie paints Noirs nails from time to time because it seems to relax him.

used to wear glasses because he had such bad eyes but now that he sees better because of the whole spider thing, he wears them cuz they’re cool.

his favorite color is purple because of robbie. (angst obvi) ( https://www.tumblr.com/lildoodlenoodle/721163033344425984/me-watching-everyone-on-tumblrtiktok-say-spider )

(based off of)

his relationship with aunt may is so wholesome. she’s against him killing facists etc, but still loves him more than anything.

his style is absolutely IMMACULATE. ( https://www.tumblr.com/spiders-scare-me/723947203857694720/tried-to-find-references-for-30s-mens-fashion-and ) (based off my own post) ( https://www.tumblr.com/spiders-scare-me/723996134618628096/no-stfu-im-so-fucking-obsessed )

i tried :,) don’t bully me

i’ll post more later if it’s wanted obvi

credits to @lildoodlenoodle and @butevrythinggoesaway for the posts i linked <3