#That is what this man inspires in me on an almost daily basis

[poisonjaffas]

My father's continued weaponised incompetence makes me so angry I could scream like how tf do u not know where the washing liquid is in ur own fuckin home and then he says he'll make dinner and proceeds to do everything in the most awkward way possible and when we tell him how to do it in a more efficient way he's like hm no I'll stick with what I'm doing I am infuriated

[mermaidgirl30]

✨Her Bodyguard, His Shining Star Part 1: Kiss Me at Coachella✨

Bodyguard! Joel Miller x Popstar fem! reader

Series Masterlist

A/N: I do not know what came over me, but this was heavily inspired after watching Sabrina Carpenter’s “Espresso” Coachella performance. This one shot took over my whole Saturday and Sunday! Thank you to @mountainsandmayhem for helping me with a title and the mood board and for being my beta! 🩷 This is both in Joel and reader’s POV. Comments and reblogs make my day. Enjoy, lovelies!

Summary: You’re performing at Coachella, throwing winks and flirting with your eyes as Joel Miller watches you from the side of the stage. He’s your bodyguard, and he should know better, but he wants you just as much as you want him.

Word Count: 8.1k

Rating: 18+ Only MDNI

Tags: Fluff, flirting, pining, oral (female receiving), dirty talk, cute pet names, unprotected p in v, switching POVs, reader is a singer, Joel is a bodyguard, reader has long hair, large age gap (reader is 25, Joel is 44)

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

The warm sun glows against your glittering skin, the music pumping like sugary coffee running through your veins. The crowd chants along with you, singing every lyric you do while they hold their phones and snap videos while you twirl around to the rhythm of the upbeat song. You flash them big smiles, pose for the camera, sway your hips while your dancers match your cute little moves. You’re exhausted, almost done with your set at Coachella, but the flaming energy of the crowd keeps you going. 

   You spin around, pop your hip out and wave flirtatiously to Joel at the end of the stairs on the side stage. He shakes his head, chuckling to himself while he tries to act professional. That’s what bodyguards do, right? Stay professional? And he did, he really did, but you liked to tease him just a bit sometimes, get him all riled up if you could. 

   You see the smug smirk he tries to hide behind that patchy, greying scruff, watch the way those gorgeous honey flecked eyes scan your body. He can try to be coy all he wants, but you’ll call him on his bluff. The man is attracted to you, just like you are to him. But you can’t help it, he’s drop dead gorgeous. The way his grey threaded dark curls catch the sun rays, his ripped muscles cling to the flannels and tight t-shirts he wears on a daily basis, his corded veins spiral down his tanned arms, the way he towers over you every time he stands next to you, his deep Southern drawl that sends you into heat every time he graces you with that thick honey-like voice, and the way he’s so protective over you. But you also can’t forget that he's twice your age, which makes him even hotter. 

   You shouldn’t want it, want him, but you do. God, you do. At night when you’re in between your silky sheets with your fingers rubbing between your legs, you’re thinking of him. Those big, meaty hands, that rough tongue, his deep, gravelly voice that must sound so sweet filled with dirty words. You can’t help yourself, you want Joel Miller, your bodyguard. 

   He watches you strut the lit up stage, the sparkles on your pink dress catching the flecks of his wandering eyes. He thinks you look so gorgeous twirling around in that short tease of a dress. Every time you bend over or spin around, he can see those skimpy short shorts that barely cover the globes of your ass. You like the attention though, love to tease the crowd just like you’re teasing him now. 

   He sees the discrete winks you throw his way on the stage, the way you lick those plump, glossy lips that seem to call directly to him. You’re trying to get a reaction out of him. He knows you too well. You may be flirting with the starving crowd who begs for more, but you’re also flirting with him. And he can’t help but get drawn into those beautiful eyes of yours that glisten in the sunlight, can’t help the way his cock is straining against the zipper of his denim jeans right now, precum spilling over the tip thinking about thrusting between those pretty legs of yours. He wants you so fucking badly, and you have no idea.

   You twirl your curls flirtatiously around your finger, flipping your hair behind your shoulders while he watches from the corner of the stage, pretending like that’s his hand wrapped around your flowing locks. Another wink his way and he’s mush against the edge of the stage. Maybe you are trying to get a reaction out of him, you just love to tease him, but he loves it just the same. You’re nothing but a little troublemaker.

   He thinks about you all the time on those lonely nights on long tours, when he’s under his pristine sheets that graze against his hardening cock. He whispers your name under his breath when he’s stroking himself, pretending his hand is yours gliding over him, spreading precum with your soft hands, your pretty mouth. And when he cums he thinks of your glittering eyes, imagines you encouraging him on while he spills hot ropes of cum all over his soft tummy. 

   He may feel a little guilty after doing that, those dirty thoughts that swirl in his head night after night, but there’s no way in hell he feels bad about doing it. He’d have you every day if it was up to him. Oh, yes. He’d ravage your body till you had nothing left to give but your own breath that blows gently against his hungry lips. Damned if he does, and damned if he doesn’t. Either way he’s completely fucked. 

   The end of your routine is drawing close, the last number halfway over while the sun kisses your tanned skin. He knows you’re tired, can see it in the sweat that glistens like diamonds down your dainty arms. He’d go and scoop you up in his arms, let you wrap your own around his neck while he carried you to safety, away from prying vultures in the crowd, but he knows paparazzi would snap those pictures in a heartbeat and cause a scene in the tabloids. The pop princess and bodyguard have a scandalous affair at Coachella together. He scoffs at the thought. Fucking idiots starving for a shiny penny to add to their useless names. 

   The moment you sing your last line, you wave to the crowd and blow kisses to the rowdy audience. “Thank you, Coachella! See you next year!” They chant your name, begging for one more song, but your time is up. So you exit the stage all smiles with glitter falling to the ground, keeping your glow until you get to the edge of the stage. 

   Joel’s right there waiting for you, a water bottle and small towel in hand, just like he always does. He looks so good in his tight black t-shirt, sleeves pulling at his bulging biceps while his dark jeans hug his meaty thighs tightly. He always looks so good that you feel dizzy when he takes your hand and helps you down the stairs and off the buzzing stage. 

   Your breath catches in your throat when he closes his thick, calloused fingers over yours, his honey eyes bright and alert when he hands you the water bottle and dabs your sweaty forehead with the soft towel. You could melt into a puddle right here and now the way he’s looking at you all protective and warm-like. 

   “You really gave them a show today, darlin’,” he drawls as his dark flecks of warmth serenade you with attention.

   “Yeah, you think so?” 

   “Mhm,” he hums, staying attentive to you while he watches you take a sip of water. 

   “Did I give you a show, too?” you ask all flirtatiously, batting your long eyelashes up at him as you slide your tongue slowly over your glossy lips, licking off a droplet of water. 

   His cheeks grow red, eyebrows fusing together as he shakes his head and runs a large hand slowly through those messy curls you so want to run your own fingers through. “C’mon, trouble. Let’s jus’ get you back to the trailer.” He grabs your elbow and drags you through the winding backstage area, dodging cords and other performers that stand in your way.

   You follow next to him, quick to stay on his trail while fans scream from the right behind barricades when they see you. Joel pushes you to the left, lingering his large hands on you just a few seconds too long while he works to keep you safe. You know it’s his job, but it turns you on at the sight of him watching out for you, keeping a hand firmly on your arm, making sure no one else touches you but him. 

   Maybe it’s a lovesick fantasy, a fever dream that you and Joel could be more than this. More than just a bodyguard who’s just doing his job to watch out for you. You feel it, that sexual chemistry when you’re near each other, even in a large crowd that won’t stop screaming your name, demanding pictures and autographs while he pushes them away from your reach. You feel it in his heated stare, the brush of his calloused fingertips on your tanned skin, the devilish smirk he gives you when you tease him or say something you shouldn’t. You know he feels it, too. He has to. He’s just as delusional and lovesick as you. You see it in the glow of those amber eyes. He knows.

   “So, you have a free night tonight, huh?” you ask as you keep your fingers curled around the soft fabric of his t-shirt. 

   “Sure, if you call keepin’ you out of trouble free time,” he chuckles, his brown eyes gazing back toward you, just enough to paint streaks of dark pink over your already blush caked cheeks. 

   “Me, trouble? Never,” you tease while you flash him a bright smile. 

   “Oh, you’re trouble alright. But you’re not the one I’m worried about. These Coachella fans can get pretty intense. I’d jus’ feel better if I was watchin’ out for you is all.”

   “You don’t want a night off though?”

   He looks back toward you and knits his eyebrows together, concern lathered all in those brown doe eyes of his. It makes you weak in the knees. “I’m alright. Besides, you’re not bad company to have.” He nudges you with his elbow and winks your way, completely knocking the breath from you. 

   Did Joel Miller just say you were good company? A quiet, reserved guy like him likes your company? The one that would rather grab a drink at the bar alone and sit in silence with a good book while no one bothers him? Guess you did have an affect on him afterall. 

   “Not bad company?” you giggle as you push against his shoulder. 

   “Not bad at all, darlin’. You’re jus’ the kind I need,” he says with a hidden smirk under that salt-and-pepper scruff you want to drag your fingers through. Yeah, you’re just what he needs.

   Suddenly, a screaming fan comes from your left, some psycho that escaped through the wrought iron fence who stomps your way. He charges over to you, calling your name as his spindly fingers close over your arm, his other hand clawing at your pink sparkly dress. “Let me take a picture, please! I love you, I drove hours just to see you sing. Please!”

   Joel rips the guy's hands off your body, pinning his hands behind his back against a caged off area while you fight to catch your breath. Your heart thunders in your chest watching Joel being so protective, possessive over you while the fan begs for mercy against Joel’s tight grip. 

   “Keep your fuckin’ filthy hands off of her! She’s not a toy you can just grab and demand things from. She didn’t give you permission, didn’t ask for you to claw at her dress. So I suggest you walk back out to the general admission area and stay the fuck away from her. Understood?!” His voice sounds like crackling thunder, that deep rugged breath towering over the cowering fan as he makes red marks over the fan’s useless wrists. Joel was just doing his job, one he was damn good at. But he made it look so sexy. 

   You stare in amazement, blinking through your thick lashes while you watch Joel shove the crazed fan through the fence, warning him to keep his distance or else he’ll wish he never stepped foot into the music festival. You gawk at him, watching the way his muscles flex underneath his t-shirt, watching the scowl across his mouth darken his menacing eyes. He’s a dominant wolf protecting his pack, and his pack is you. 

   You watch his flared nostrils and harsh eyes soften when he turns and looks at you, one of his large hands coming to clasp around your wrist while he assesses your wide-eyed features. “You okay?”

   You nod your head slowly, keeping your gaze on him as he makes sure you’re alright. “Really, I’m fine, Joel. Thank you.”

   Before he can manage a reply back to you, blinding cameras start flashing before your eyes, paparazzi swarming you as they just assessed the scene. They throw questions at you, screaming your name while you try to drown out their echoing voices. 

   You stick like glue to Joel’s side, latching your arms around his strong torso while you hide your face in his t-shirt beneath his shoulder. Joel wraps a protective arm around your back and guides you to safety. 

   “Get back! She ain’t answerin’ questions right now, she jus’ got off the stage. Leave her alone!” His deep voice hounds them, barking strict orders for them to stay back. 

   You’re so thankful for Joel right now, your knight in shining armor steering you to safety. The blinding lights start to slowly fade away, the reaching hands and firm demands slipping away once you enter the safe vicinity of your tour trailer. 

   Joel unfolds you from his safe grasp, turns you around and places one hand gently under your chin as if to say it’s okay, baby girl. They’re gone. He scans your frightened eyes, but you melt into a relaxed state when he looks at you with those concerned honey eyes that swallow you whole. 

   “You sure you’re alright?” he asks with eyebrows furrowed together in a panicked state. 

   “I am now. Thanks for saving me. You’re my hero,” you smile as he lets out a sigh of relief and shakes his head. 

   “Jus’ doin’ my job, sweetheart. Can’t help it that everyone wants a piece of you. Gotta protect the shining star,” he winks, nearly sending you over the edge of the steps to your trailer. 

   “Well, you’re pretty great at your job, Miller. Best bodyguard ever,” you flirt as you poke him playfully in the chest. 

   “Alright, little pop star. Why don’t you go relax for a bit? I’ll be out here, be sure to fight off any more paparazzi parasites,” he smiles while he watches you twist the handle and enter your safe haven. 

   “Joel?” you call before you close the door. 

   “Hmm?” he asks as he twists around and faces you with gentle brown eyes. 

   “Go easy on them.”

   He just rolls his eyes and shakes his tousled curls off his sweaty forehead. “Sure thing, darlin’. Alright now, go on. Get in there,” he instructs as he nods to your room. 

   You huff out and slump your shoulders, pretending like it’s the biggest chore in the world. He ticks his jaw and raises an eyebrow at you that tells you he’s not messing around, so you fully oblige his request. “Alright, alright. I’m going,” you sigh. 

   “Attagirl,” he chuckles. 

   Your cheeks burn red as he leaves you with the hottest word before you close the door with a jolt. Attagirl. The word rushes through you, straight to your core where you feel a bit of slick build against your sticky lace. How can a man get you turned on with just one word? Well, it’s Joel Miller, and the man can make you wet with the wink of those pretty brown eyes, but Attagirl was next level. It was borderline porn to your ears. 

   When you hear the click of the door close you take a second to breathe, leaning up against the sealed door while you flick the lights on and try to calm your racing nerves. You assess your pristine room, taking in the white walls hung with pink fairy lights. The glow from your vanity mirror lights up the little corner where your sparkly makeup sits neatly together. The pink velvet sectional sits up against the middle of the wall where a picture of Marilyn Monroe hangs right above that. Soft pink colors cover the room, and you feel suddenly at ease in the protection of your trailer. 

   You meander toward the vanity mirror, assessing your perfect makeup that still stays intact on your glowing face. The sparkling pink eyeshadow mixes in with the sharp wings of black eyeliner that frames your soft eyes. Shimmery pink lip gloss coats your plump lips, and the blush stands out against your tanned skin. Your spiral curls flow gently over your shoulders, and your sparkly dress hugs all your curves in the right places. 

   You suddenly want to be free of your costume, wanting to throw on a pair of cutoff jean shorts and an oversized t-shirt. When you turn your back to the mirror and try to unzip your dress, it gets stuck just a couple inches from the top. 

   “Oh, come on. Work with me.” You fight the zipper again, tugging with all your might until you grit your teeth together and curse under your breath. This is not what you need right now. You want out of this dress, out of these high heels, out of these smothering tights. 

   You stomp your heel into the plush carpet, folding your arms across your cleavage as you decipher just what to do. Lacy, your assistant, is tied up in important meetings for the rest of the afternoon. She’s nowhere near your little trailer. Your makeup artist is busy helping other performers, so you have no other options. Joel is the only one…

   You gulp, take a long look at your flushed cheeks just thinking of having Joel Miller unzip your dress. It’s harmless, really, but not if he’s doing it. That would only lead to one thing. Giving into pure desire, temptation, need. 

   “Fuck it,” you whisper to yourself, “if a show is what he wants, then a show is what he’ll get.”

   You tiptoe to the door, hovering your hand over the handle as you take a deep breath and breathe in and out slowly. It’s just a zipper, only a zipper. He could always say no, leave you stranded while you’re stuck in your dress the entire evening. He wouldn’t do that though, leave you helpless while you fight to rip the tight dress off your body. He just wouldn’t allow that. No way. 

   You take one more deep breath and open the door slowly, slipping your head out as you see Joel standing at the bottom of your trailer steps. You clear your throat and watch him turn his head quickly in your direction, leaving his guard wide open as he assesses your distressed face. “Umm, Joel. Can you do me a favor?”

   His eyebrows knit together while his eyes glaze over your body. “What is it, darlin’?” His doe eyes lean into yours, and you can barely muster up any words while he looks at you like that, all caring and deep. 

   “Well, my zipper got stuck in the back, and I can’t get it down. Do you think you can help?” you ask shyly, your eyes looking up nervously through your long lashes. 

   “Uhh, where’s Lacy? I can go grab her, let her help ya out.”

   “No!” You reach out an arm and grab his wrist tightly, watching his brown eyes widen at your sudden contact on his tanned skin. 

   “No?” he asks confused, his breath picking up underneath his dark t-shirt. 

   “I mean, she’s in meetings for the rest of the afternoon. She’s nowhere near the trailer. And I’m awfully uncomfortable in this tight dress. Do you think you can just come in really quick and help?”

   He gulps down a breath, his heartbeat picking up incredibly fast while he looks into your gorgeous eyes. How can he say no to that? He can’t, so he won’t. He rakes a hand slowly through his greying scruff and nods your way. 

   “‘Course I’ll help, sweetheart. C’mon then.” He places a hand gently on your lower back and leads you into the glowing lights of the trailer, letting the door close with a bang as he guides you to the middle of the room. 

   “Turn around for me, sweetheart,” he asks nicely as you oblige and turn your back toward him. 

   He looks at your undone zipper, sees where it’s stuck in the pink fabric of the dress. Of course he’d be the only one around to help you, of all things a fucking stuck zipper on you. He has no resistance when it comes to you, he just can’t say no to that pretty face of yours. 

   “Zipper’s jus’ caught in the fabric. Should just take a little tugging,” he says with gritted teeth, pulling on the zipper while he holds the silky fabric tight with his other hand. 

   After a few seconds of fighting the dress, he gets it free of the catching fabric. He slowly unzips the back of your sparkling dress, going ever so slowly as if not to make a single sound. The only sounds he hears are your quick breaths, the beating of his own racing heart, and the noise of tugging you free of the suffocating, tight dress. 

   He watches it stop at the end of your curvy hips, catching the way your skin seems to shimmer as your flawless skin comes into his line of vision. He sees the way the dress falls open in the back, your skin begging to be touched, to be stroked as it beckons him closer and closer until he’s hovering above your hot skin. 

   He knows he shouldn’t linger, shouldn’t hover over the glow of your exposed skin, but it’s almost sinful not to touch you when the glitter of your undertones calls directly to him. He gives in, stealing just a touch as he rubs his fingers slowly down your spine. 

   You squirm beneath his touch, tingling sensations running wildly down your skin with each touch he takes from you. You ravish in it, holding your breath while he takes his time dipping across the curve of your back. 

   He leans into you, ghosting his lips across your neckline while he breathes you in deep. He smells the vanilla scent of your perfume, lilac breezing through your soft curls, and can even smell the cherry flavor of your glittery lip gloss. You must taste so good, he can already feel your soft lips against his while he takes his other hand and moves your curls over the left side of your shoulder. 

   You turn your head back gradually, exposing the veins in your slender neck while it gives him access to dip his lips against the curve of your neck. “Joel,” you whisper out, your insides shaking as the hand on your back sinks down to the curve of your hip. 

   He can’t respond, too lost in your delicious scent while his hand dances against the silk of your tempting skin. He’s a bad man, putting himself in this vulnerable position where he’s alone with you, with your zipper completely down and your dress barely holding itself against your perfect body. 

   He should go back outside, stay away from your midnight eyes, your luscious locks, your sweet smelling perfume, but he can’t. He just can’t. He’d rather die than to leave you alone now, untouched, not taken care of. He’s your bodyguard, he’s paid to take care of you. So he will, in every way that he can. He’ll have his way with you. If your zipper can be fixed then who's to say that ache between your legs can’t, too? 

   He spins you around, your chest pressed flush against his while he slowly backs you up against the wall, caging you in with his strong arms while he breathes in your sweet vanilla scent that drives him wild. He sees the cleavage practically spilling from the top of your undone dress, wants to fucking rip it to shreds until there’s nothing left but your glowing skin under the tips of his pressing fingers. 

   He takes a hand and pushes back a strand of curls behind your ear, lingering his thick fingers along your jawline while you breathe in the woodsy mahogany smell, his expensive cologne that you could lather yourself in just to smell like him. He’s so close that he could lean down and press his lips to yours, so close that you could twist your fingers through those lush curls that you so desperately want to meld your fingers to. 

   You’ve never been this close to him before, to where you can see just how pretty and clear his brown flecked eyes are. You’re driving yourself into dangerous territory, but you don’t care. No one’s here to stop you from making any mistakes, and Joel is not a mistake.

   He hovers over you, dragging his lips against your jawline and stopping at the shell of your ear, lingering there while his meaty hands dig into the curve of your hips. “We shouldn’t… I shouldn’t,” he says with gritted teeth, painfully dragging out the words while he tickles the shell of your ear with his plush lips. 

   “Why not?” you whine pathetically as you place a hand under his shirt, making him jump while you graze over the happy trail that leads underneath his jeans. It makes a deep groan slip from his throat. 

   “I’m twice your age. You jus’ turned twenty-five, I’m pushing forty-five. I’m your bodyguard. I should be more respectful, shouldn’t give in to a pretty thing like you,” he murmurs as he feels his cock hardening beneath the denim of his jeans. 

   “I don’t care that you’re older or that you’re my bodyguard,” you mumble as your fingers tug the leather belt free from his jeans. 

   He groans, licking the edge of your ear while he fights to find an ounce of control in his desperate body. He finds none. “We shouldn’t, darlin’. It’d be irresponsible on my part. What if the paparazzi found out? They’d turn the headlines into a hell of a mess. Hell, your publicist would kill me,” he says defeatedly while his hands stay glued to your hips. 

   “I don’t care what my publicist says, I don’t care about the paparazzi. I know what I want, Joel. I know you want it, too. Just as much as I do.”

   He groans against you, doing his best to resist you, but he can’t. He’s a weak man for you, and he’ll give in with the snap of your fingers. He’s got no fight left in him, he’s all yours. “Are you sure, sweetheart? You want this? Want me?”

   You grip tighter to his jeans, dragging his hips flush against yours as you feel the swell of his cock through the denim. He’s so fucking big, and you haven’t even seen him yet. “Yes, Joel. Please. Want you, only you,” you stifle out a moan as his lips trail against your neck, gently nipping and sucking against your sensitive areas while his hands ghost over the curve of your breasts. 

   “God, I can’t say no to you, gorgeous. You don’t even know what you do to me every time I see you up on that stage, singin’ with that angelic voice of yours, dancin’ around all flirtatiously while you make me so fuckin’ hard beneath my jeans.”

   You groan at his filthy words, letting him spread your legs while one of his parts your legs wider. One hand trailing up your inner thigh while his other slowly pulls against the top of your pink dress. “You don’t know how badly I’ve wanted to do this for so long, how much I’ve wanted to press my face between those thick thighs of yours,” he groans as he trails his lips against the cleavage of your dress. 

   “Probably just as long as I’ve wanted you to,” you pant out as he tugs at the hem of your dress. 

   “Yeah, s’that right?” he teases, dragging his teeth lower down your breasts. 

   “Mhm. Joel, fuck. Taste me, touch me, fuck me,” you beg as you wrap your arms around his neck. 

   “Fuck you, hmm? That what you want?” he teases while he slowly pulls your dress free, hearing it drop to the floor when all you’re left in is your shorts and tights. 

   “Yes, please. Want you, need you to touch me. Do it, Joel. Please,” you whine, twisting your fingers around the curls around the base of his neck.

   He chuckles out, sucking in a breath as he fully obliges your request. “Alright, pretty pop star. If that’s what you want, how can I say no to you?”

   He leaves you with no warning, cupping one breast in his large palm while he sucks on your other one, running his tongue in circles until your nipples are pebbled and swollen beneath his tongue, his mouth, his hands. He does the same to the other one, languidly sliding his tongue over the pebbled bud while he massages your breasts with his calloused fingers. 

   He bathes in your moans, making certain to get you all worked up where he knows you’re already soaking beneath your panties. That’s where he wants you wet, begging for him to touch you. 

   “Joel,” you whine, feeling his fingers fall free from your pebbled breasts. 

   “I know, baby. I know. Don’t worry, gonna take care of my girl.”

   Before you can speak, he cups your face and sinks his plush lips against the gloss of yours, melding his mouth to yours while he tastes the cherry flavor of your lip gloss. You part your lips for him, inviting him in as you feel him lick feverishly into your mouth. Your tongues dance together in unison, allowing him to tangle his with yours while he revels in your pretty moans against his hungry mouth. He’s starving for you, absolutely famished while he takes and takes from you, letting his tongue explore the entirety of your open mouth. If you taste this good, just think how absolutely divine you must be between your legs.

   His hands roam down to your shorts, slipping his fingers inside the waistband and tugging them free of your skin. You step out of your high heels, kick the pink shorts aside and allow his mouth to break free of yours. You pant tirelessly, watching him kneel between your legs as he starts to run his fingers up and down your thighs. 

   He looks up at you, his eyes becoming dark pits that consume him whole. He’s feral for you, and he won’t stop till he has every last drop from you. “You have another pair of these?” he asks, nodding to your tights. 

   “I’ve got a million pairs,” you say out of breath. 

   He smirks up at you before he tears into the flesh of your tights, ripping them to shreds while one of his large hands meets the lace of your panties. “What about these, hmm? Gonna miss these?”

   You shake your head, unable to get a word out as you swallow a whine in the back of your throat. “No?” he asks all deep and gravelly while his thumb traces against the edge of your lace, sliding down to put some pressure between your drenched lips. 

   You throw your head back and whine, begging him to continue on. “No, Joel. Just take them off, please. Need you,” you breathe out desperately. 

   “That’s all you had to say, sweetheart.” He takes no time, ripping into the seam of your panties as you watch him split them in half, throwing them in a pile on the floor while his eyes blow wide when he takes in the bare sight of you. 

   He groans to himself, dragging a finger through your wet arousal, parting you in the middle as he hears the sloshing sounds come from his thumb spreading the wetness all across your dripping core. He inhales you, reveling in the pretty noises you make while he takes his time exploring you, gathering the slick on his calloused fingers as he burns the sight of your messy pussy in the back of his brain. 

   “Shit, baby. Already so fuckin’ wet for me. This what I do to you, hmm? You always this wet around me?”

   “Mhm,” you moan, feeling his fingers pull you apart as more slick pools between your thighs. 

   “All this for me, goddamn. Ain’t I jus’ the luckiest man alive.” He licks a thick stripe up your core, dragging his tongue to lap up the slick that spills from your insides, making you pant out with need as he makes you come undone. “Don’t worry, baby. Gonna take real good care of this pretty pink pussy. Just sit back, relax, and let me do all the work.”

   He doesn’t even give you a chance to breathe, he just dives right in. He takes the flat of his tongue and strokes your folds, working you up and down while he soaks in the sweet taste of you. He hooks one of your pliant legs over his shoulder while you fight to not break already. 

   He drags his nose through the curls above your mound, sucking your swollen clit into his mouth while he breathes in the sensational musk of your pussy, drinking down your sticky arousal that makes his taste buds come to life. He’s never tasted a pussy this sweet before in his life, never quite experienced the high of such an intoxicating body before. He’s wanted you for so long now, and he never even imagined it’d be this good before. 

   “Joel,” you moan above him, wrapping your delicate fingers through his messy curls, driving out a deep groan from him by the way you cling to him. He loves the feel of you in his hair, pulling and tugging while you bite your lower lip and moan his name over and over again. It’s like an addictive drug he’s prescribed to, and he needs more, wants more of you. 

   He slips two digits into your drenched hole, filling you so full while his thick fingers curl and hit that spongy area that makes you see bright lights flash before your eyes. He revels in your moans, eliciting more with every touch and curl of his fingers, with every feverish lick to your messy center. 

   “Yeah? You like that, baby? Feel good?” Joel purrs while he watches you fall apart beneath his fingers. 

   “So good, Joel. Want you to - ahhh,” you whine as he pulls your aching bundle of nerves back into his warm mouth, releasing it with a pop as more slick covers his knuckles. 

   “Mmm, s’that right, sweetheart? Gonna cum for me? C’mon baby girl, go on and soak me,” he purrs. 

   You feel the white hot sensation taking over, feel his long fingers curl up to hit that spot again and again while he pulls your aching clit back into his mouth. And it feels so fucking good that you just can’t hold on any longer. “Joel, I’m gonna… fuck, I’m coming,” you whine as you release your pent up energy, soaking his knuckles while he works you nice and slow, licking at your core as the slick builds on his tongue, drinking you down till he soothes that aching need in his throat. 

   You come down slowly, feeling your body go through the tingling sensations that make you feel so alive. You’ve never had it this good before, not before Joel. He’s going to be the end of your demise. 

   You look down at him between your legs, fingers still curled inside your core while he slowly drags them out of you with a groan from your lips. He pops the digits into his mouth, sucking the sweet release while he moans your name. He looks fucking wrecked, his hair all tousled and messy, wide eyes blown out to black pits that want to devour you whole. The way he’s looking at you makes you think he’s not done with you, and he’s not. Oh no, he’s just getting started. 

   “Such a good girl for me,” he purrs, sliding his calloused fingers up to your hips while he unhooks your leg from his shoulder. “I’m not done with you yet, baby. Now, c’mere.”

   He throws you over his shoulder, a surprised gasp coming from your lips as he takes you over to the velvet couch. He drops you on your hands and knees, not giving you a moment to breathe while he situates himself behind you and spreads your legs wide. 

   He takes a few seconds to admire your glistening core, sitting back on his heels as he rakes a hand slowly over his greying scruff, taking in the absolute beauty that sits before him. He’s never seen a sight like this that he goes head over heels for, sliding his tongue between his teeth as he whispers how fucking perfect you are.

   He groans your name, dragging his thumb up and down your sticky folds while one hand spreads your cheeks wide. He says your name repeatedly, taking in the sight of you in front of him. He thinks you’re so fucking pretty, all messy and dripping just for him. He wants to just slip your scent, your taste into his own cologne, mix the two together until he can only smell you on his body. 

   He licks at your core, spreading you wide while he devours you whole. He pulls at your glistening clit, languidly circling the swollen bud that calls sinfully to him. He wants to give you all the orgasms, drink you down till you have nothing left to give, curl his fingers inside your heated core, work you over till the only thing you can say is his name through your pretty moans. 

   He thrives in the musk of you, the taste of your cherry lips, the sweet saltiness of your warm cum. If he could give it a name, he’d call you his special jasmine flower, known to be the sweetest, most fragrant flower in the world. That’s what you are to him. The rarest flower that ever came into his reach, his life. 

   He licks against your slick folds, working his fingers in and out of your delicious cunt, slurping on your sensitive mound while he drowns it in his own drool, lusting after you until you writhe beneath him and give him another mind blowing orgasm. 

   “Joel, I’m coming, I’m coming,” you cry, spilling yourself all over his digits and inside his heated mouth. He can’t reply, too busy drinking you down as he groans good girl through the taste of you on his large tongue. 

   He swallows all the slick between your thighs, holding you up together while your legs shake uncontrollably. You may have fallen apart on his tongue twice, but he still wants more. He’s greedy like that when something belongs to him. You’re his as far as he’s concerned now, and he always takes care of what’s his. 

   “Joel, wanna… wanna…” you stutter tirelessly, out of breath from the insane orgasm he pulled from your body. 

   “What do ya need, sweetheart? Use your words,” he coaxes, placing a hand gently at the small of your back as he strokes small circles into the heat of your skin.

   “Your cock. Let me suck your cock, make you feel good, too,” you whine out, grinding your teeth together as he gently blows on your aching core. 

   “Not this time, baby. Later. Gotta take care of you first. This time I wanna have my way with you, want your cum dripping down my tongue, making my cock all messy from your sweet release. Wanna bottle you up and make you my own personal brand of whiskey,” he growls as he pulls his t-shirt over his head and frantically slides his jeans and boxers over his feet, disposing the sweaty material on the ground. 

   He hisses as he spreads the precum over his shaft, pumping himself a couple times before he grabs your hips and scoots you back, stifling a moan from your mouth as he plunges his massive cock into your throbbing pussy. 

   “Oh, shit. Joel,” you whine, filling the room with your sweet incantations while he fills you so full of him. 

   “Yeah? You like that, dirty girl? Takin’ this cock so good, squeezin’ me so fuckin’ tight,” he growls, pulling your hair back as your head snaps up, his mouth meeting yours as he licks feverishly inside, swallowing your moans while he continues his frantic thrusts into your weeping pussy. 

   He pulls out from you, throwing you on your back while he hooks your legs over his shoulders, rutting back inside you as his cock gets covered in your sticky slick. You throw your arms around his neck while he finds your mouth again, licking inside, moaning your name on the tip of his tongue as he speeds up his thrusts inside you. 

   The sounds are obscene, the wet smacking noises of his hard cock drilling inside your drenched pussy reverberating off the glow of the pristine walls. He releases his mouth from yours, leaning back to take in the gorgeous view that’s you. You’re splayed all over the couch, your perky breasts bouncing up and down with every thrust of his cock, your eyes all glossed over and fucked out while he takes you nice and slow. He thinks you’re a vision, a full on masterpiece that deserves to be displayed in an art gallery, your mouth making that pretty O shape while you chant his name angelically. 

   “Know you’re close, baby. Squeezin’ me so tight, feels so good,” he moans through the grit of his teeth. 

   “Joel, I’m gonna… gonna… fuck,” you whine as you feel that all too familiar white hot sensation rush through your entire body. 

   “Oh yeah, baby. That’s it. Such a good fuckin’ girl. Go on now, soak this cock,” he coaxes. 

   He watches you fall apart beneath him, beautiful, glossy eyes rolling back as you drag your manicured nails down his back, giving him the prettiest moans as you clench around him and release your cum all down his quivering cock. 

   “Good girl,” he praises, talking you through your intense orgasm as he quickens the strokes inside you, reaching heights you never could without him, kissing your cervix with the tip of his cock. It feels so fucking good, and you just gave him the best three orgasms of your life. You’re exhausted, but you need him to finish. You need him inside you. 

   Sweat drips off his forehead, ending in his tousled curls as he bares his teeth, barely able to hold on any longer. “Baby, I’m about to cum. I can’t hold on much longer. Where do you want me, sweetheart? Where do you want me to spill?”

   “Inside Joel, paint me white inside. Cum inside my pussy, please,” you beg. 

   He moans as he calls your name, giving you a couple more thrusts before he paints the insides of your thighs white with hot ropes of cum, throwing his head back as he revels in the ecstasy of filling you up with his seed, claiming you as his own. 

   He pulls out and twists you around, collapsing on his back against the velvet couch while you fall into his chest, his meaty hands holding you tight around the waist while you both come down from your intense orgasmic high. The room smells like sex and sweat, hints of vanilla and cherry flavored lips lingering around the room. It smells like heaven, Joel’s heaven. 

   Through the sounds of rushed breaths and tired bodies, he reaches up and hooks a strand of loose hair behind your ear, lingering his calloused fingers against your jawline while he assesses the beautiful starlights in your eyes. He thinks you’re the most gorgeous girl he’s ever laid eyes on, and now you’re all his. 

   You look at him just the same, memorizing the flecks of dark honey that make up his bright eyes, dragging your fingertips through his salt-and-pepper scruff, letting your other hand glide through his messy tousled curls. He may be your bodyguard who works for you, but now he’s so much more than that. He’s yours, and you’ll never let him go now. 

   “Still think this was a bad idea?” you ask with a raised brow, challenging him to say anything but yes. 

   “Too late for asking me that, sweetheart. I changed my mind. You’re jus’ what I needed,” he smiles, the flecks of his eyes shimmering amber as your own eyes sparkle with bliss. 

   “Glad you came around,” you giggle as he drags his fingers up and down your jawline softly. 

   “All ‘cause of a fuckin’ broken zipper. You know I can’t stop now, sweetheart? One taste of you and now I’m hooked. Afraid I can’t let you go now.”

   You lean into his chest, giving him your best dreamy smile as you trace the ends of a tousled greying curl. “Then don’t. Be mine, Joel.”

   “I’m all yours, sweetheart. All yours,” he whispers before he cups your face and brings your head down, meeting the plush of his lips as he kisses you nice and slow. 

   You melt into him, parting your lips so he can slot his way in, tangling his tongue with yours as you taste yourself in his mouth. You stay like that for minutes, getting lost in his soft touch, his musk, his dreamy eyes. You never want to leave this trailer, never want to be parted from Joel. The only question is, how will you ever be able to keep your hands off him in public? 

   You lean your head into the crevice of his neck, nestling up to his soft scruff that smells like him. You sigh and tangle your fingers with his while he holds you close to his side. “Guess we won’t see any more performances tonight?” 

   “I don’t know, baby,” he chuckles underneath you. “Think we need a shower and some food. Maybe take you for round two afterwards. But it’s up to you. We can either stay here or go watch more of the sets tonight. Whatever you want.”

   You think it over, but ultimately decide on his first offer. “Mmm, I think I’ll go with the first pick. Rather be here with you, in your arms, where it feels right.”

   He sighs, lingering a soft kiss on your cheek as he pushes back a falling curl. “Okay, beautiful. That’s what we’ll do then. You want pepperoni pizza? That’s your favorite, right?”

   “Mhm,” you nod. “Sounds perfect.”

   He chuckles, the chocolate flecks glistening in his pretty eyes. He looks so dreamy, almost unreal that he's underneath you, his skin glowing from the sight of you. “I’ve wanted you for so long, sweetheart. Can’t believe this is actually happening.”

   “I feel the same, Joel. Thought you might’ve caught on sooner with all the flirting I’ve been doing, especially up on stage. I might love getting a crowd pumped up, but there’s nothing more I love than making you blush at the side of the stage.”

   He tips his head back and laughs, his voice all deep and gravelly as he flicks his eyes back to you. “Oh, I caught on, darlin’. Figured you were tryin’ to get a reaction out of me, and you did. Now look at us,” he teases, cupping your chin with the palm of his large hand, causing tingles to run down your spine. 

   “Yeah, just look at us. A pop star and a bodyguard getting off on each other. Thought it’d only happen in my dreams,” you sigh, propping yourself up with your elbow on his sweat covered broad chest. 

   “Well, baby, it’s real. It happened. Reckon you’re mine now, yeah?”

   Your eyes perk up, a huge smile glistening across your shiny lips as you nod your head. “I’m all yours, Joel. As long as you’ll have me.”

   “Baby, I ain’t ever gonna let you go now. You’re all mine, and I’m gonna spend my days protectin’ and lovin’ this pretty pop star. That’s what you are, baby. You’re my shining star.”

   “And you’re my knight in shining bodyguard,” you giggle. 

   “Mhm, sure am, doll. And I don’t plan on ever lettin’ you go.”

   You fold back into his chest, pressing your lips hungrily against his. Eventually he carries you to the shower, helps wash off all the sweat and slick from earlier, until he takes you to your bed and makes love to you all over again. And it continues throughout the whole night, until both of you are passed out in each other's arms. 

   This is where you belong, in the arms of your fierce protector, your handsome bodyguard that you’re head over heels for. Your favorite brown eyed keeper. 

Tags: @laramc-02 @amyispxnk @sawymredfox @burntheedges @vivian-pascal

@littlevenicebitch69 @keylimebeag @msjarvis @akah565 @milla-frenchy

@aurorawritestoescape @alltheirdamn

[greeniegirl23]

"Take Care.." (Sick! Alastor x Reader)

A.K.A Alastor trying to fight being ill.

Also inspired by @degenerativeficdisease latest post. Go check out

https://www.tumblr.com/degenerativeficsdisease/782930143572377600/to-break-a-fever

---------------------------------

"Alastor for the love of fuck, go sit down!!" You yelled at him for almost the hundredth time.

"Never!!" He protested, voice ladened with stuffy sinuses and thick static while he attempted to sit upright at his mahogany desk.

Alastor was stubborn, this much you knew. On a daily basis, it was hard to change his mind about little things. Especially if he didn't agree with them for whatever reason, but you didn't know how truly headstrong he could be until today. When he woke up with a fever of 104.3, (and the only reason you knew that is because you damn there shoved the thermometer down his throat..) refusing to rest but instead, trudge through the illness like an idiot. Which is why you were yelling at him as he attempted to get dressed for the day at the pace of a drunken snail.

You've been trying to get him into bed for the past two hours, but every time he refuted you with some bullshit response. "I don't need rest darling, I survived through the Yellow Fever pandemic--!" He coughed violently. You could literally hear the gross phlegm in his lungs as he hacked like an old smoker before sniffling. "..I'll be fine."

Honestly, he didn't even know how much he believed that at the moment. In Hell, everything was worse, including illness and getting sick. He wouldn't dare tell you, but he knew that you knew that he felt like shit. Every movement was agonizing as he put on his typical attire. Muscles aching with every move, his eyes could barely stay open, he felt delirious really and had resorted to breathing through his mouth because his nostrils were clogged with mucus.

"Yes you will be," You sighed, pressing your fingers tips to your temple in frustration. "But not if you keep going at this rate. Seriously, you look terrible."

He's expression was irritated as he looked at you with puffy eyes and an exhausted face. "I haven't the slightest idea what you mean..."

"Don't be difficult Al."

"But it suits me so well!" He tried to sound upbeat and smarmy as usual until a loud microphone feed back made you jump, heavy static spiking in volume in a row of four.

"Fucking hell! What was that?!"

Alastor rolled his eyes. "Have you never heard a man sneeze before?"

"That was a sneeze?" You replied. "It sounded like mating call of something ungodly.."

His loopy eyes squinted at you. "Never say that again.."

"Only if you get into bed and rest. You cannot go around like this. Especially sneezing like that, you might mesh frequencies and blow up a radio or something."

"I'm afraid my powers don't work like that darling."

"Whatever!" You yelled, grabbing him by his arm and dragging him back towards his plush king sized bed. "I don't care if you still want to work, it can wait."

"But--"

You immediately cut him off by firmly pushing him on to the mattress. Later on when he was better, he vowed he'd get revenge on you for having the audacity to touch him, let alone push him, but at the moment he could care less. Sinking into the mattresses plushness, allowing it to cradle his aching bones from this accursed fever.

He let out a groan of pain? Relief? He had no idea as he allowed the mattress to embrace him.

While he sat there melting in the best and worst way possible, you went over to his dresser and pulled out some of his pajamas, throwing them next to him you told his shadows to help him change while you were going to go downstairs and get some essentials.

As soon as you made it to the lobby. You made sure to inform Charlie that Alastor wasn't doing well today and that whatever work he had to do would be late.

Of course she agreed and told you to take as much time as he needed. After that you went into the kitchen and got started on some soup. You know he was a stinker for flavors and food made from scratch, so you did it the long way and managed to make some very tasty venison, rice, and vegetable soup. With just a bit of Southern kick, it would help with his congestion.

A quick look into the pantry and you got some other things too. A pitcher of ice water, some cold meds, a few of his favorite snacks like coffee pecans and minty-lemon candies he'd gotten from one of Rosie's tea parties last week.

Together with the help of his shadows, you brought the things back to his room only to find him sprawled on the bed like a starfish.

He had moved all his blankets to the foot of the bed, despising them because of the chills that wracked his body. The sheets and his pajamas were already a sweaty mess as he breathed heavily with his night shirt unbuttoned. If it wasn't for the fact that he was such a pain, you might have thought of this moment as cute or even hot.

But no, now wasn't the time for that.

Immediately you moved him aside to set up his pillows behind him, propping him up so you could feed him something before the meds. Foggy with fever, you heard him mumble "No maman.." the exhaustion evident in his voice. "Can't stay home..Gotta be at the station before one."

"Oh Alastor.." You hummed. Pressing a hand on his cheek, hoping that he'd snap into reality. It always made you sad to realize that deep down he was just a boy that made mistakes and missed his mother. The only person who could ever get through to him, who he ever truly loved, and would never see again.

Part of you wondered just how long had Alastor been a showman. Not just as a career or even a hobby, but as a way of life. He was a showman to the hotel, to Charlie, to his friends, hell, even to you sometimes. But you couldn't help but think if he was always a performer, even as a child. Did he put on air for his Mother? Was she the only one who ever knew who he really was?

These questions plagued your mind as you placed a cold rag on his head. He moaned at the relief, had you been in a cartoon, you were pretty sure you'd see steam coming off of his person as he drifted in and out of consciousness.

"Alastor? Alastor wake up." you called for him, shaking his shoulder. As much as you hated to wake, he needed to eat. Almost irritatedly, he blinked his eyes open. "..Darling.?"

"Yeah it's just me." You smiled, genuinely. "Come on and sit up, I made some food for you."

Taking a deep breath as if to prepare himself. Alastor used what little strength he had to prop himself up against the pillows more comfortably. Holding the bowl of soup in your hand, you scooped up a bit with the spoon to feed him. But much to your surprise--really, why are you surprised at him by this point-- Alastor instead took the bowl out of your hands and proceeded to drink from it as if it were a cup. He didn't stop to chew the chunks of meat or veggies, he didn't stop to blow it because it was still hot. Nothing. He quite literally just took it and swallowed it all. Leaving nothing behind except for a few grains of rice in the porcelain.

You blinked once. Twice. Then thrice.

"Alastor why did you?-"

He held up his hand somewhat limply, sniffling. "It's bad enough I have this damn fever and unforsaken chills, but I die twice before I allow you to feed me as if I were a helpless child. Besides, I am rather tired."

Something about what he said sent a stab in your heart. While you kinda understand him wanting to go back to sleep, the thought of him still putting a distance between you and his vulnerability still stung.

Instead of making a big deal out of it. You just placed the bowl back onto the serving tray and poured him a glass of cold water and giving him the meds. "Here, drink this and take these. It should help you feel better soon.."

Same as the soup, Alastor seemed to take the water happily, swallowing both it and the meds in one go. Before scooting back down into bed, still panting but not as much as before. Finally closing his eyes to go back to sleep.

"I'll take this stuff downstairs and leave you be for now." You stated, loud enough for him to hear and give you an ear twitch in response.

His expression was soft as he drifted off, seemingly cozy as he possibly could be in this state. With one arm draped over his stomach while the other laid in the open space of the bed.

Wondering if he knew that he had somewhat hurt your feelings, you had only taken about five steps away from him before a group of shadows had taken away the used dishes, while Alastor's doppelganger snatched you up and placed you right beside him on the bed.

You swore you heard a sleepy chuckle when you shrieked from getting plucked off the floor like a chicken feather, but when you were dropped by his side, you were surprised on how naturally he clung to you.

One leg draped over your body, his arms around your waist, while his head rested snugly on your bosom. There was nothing sexual about this, even calling this intimacy was a stretch, but you couldn't help but allow your heart to beat just a little faster. Swelling with love and adoration for him, something you always had that you thought he never noticed.

"Um Al?"

"Mmn..." Is the sound be made as he nuzzled into you more. Completely at home where he laid.

"I have to--"

"Stay." He mumbled. "You stay.."

You huffed. This asshole knew you couldn't say no to him, not while he was like this or even ever. So like a lady with a pet cat, you accepted your fate and stayed where you were. Allowing Alastor to finally fall completely asleep, with you following behind not too long after. Sleeping soundly in his bed, limbs tangled and hair messy, but it was okay.

Because you both felt right at home.

[cinnamon-girl-writes]

scream queen !! . . . gojo x reader

one fall, geto and gojo team up to prank shoko and y/n for halloween. basically halloween inspired fluff!

fluff, gojo x reader, set during gojo's past arc, reader is a 2nd year student

by @cinnamon-girl-writes

OCTOBER, 2006

As the day drew to a close, the Jujutsu High gymnasium was abuzz with conversation.

"C'mon 'Ko, how can you not like halloween?" Gojo persisted, "Slasher movies and candy and staying up past midnight?"

Shoko scoffed. "You already stay up way too late, idiot." Geto chuckled softly at their antics.

You poked the girl next to you and she almost dropped her cigarette from between her teeth. "Are you at least going to dress up with me this year?" You asked.

Shoko rolled her eyes. "Not a chance."

Geto leaned in, joining the conversation. "Why do you hate Halloween so much?"

Shoko sighed, stretching her arms out above her nonchalantely. "I don't know, I just never really enjoyed it, y'know? Like, we see enough scary stuff every day, right?"

You collectively nodded at her words. There was no denying that she was right; your lives were plenty scary on a daily basis.

Just then, the bell rang, signalling it was time for your next class session to begin. You all gathered your things and headed to the main building, dropping the conversation.

The rest of the day went on as expected, after finishing your lessons and training for a few hours you all retreated around the campus. You and Shoko lounged in the common room with Nanami and Haibara. Gojo and Getou, however, were no where to be found.

"Do you think we should go look for them?" Haibara questioned. It had been almost two hours since you'd last seen them at dinner and it was starting to get dark.

"No, if they need us they'll call," Nanami answered quickly.

You intervened, "I'm sure they're fine, wherever they are. Probably off causing trouble somewhere."

"Yeah, they're fine. So, what are we watching?" said Shoko.

You collectively decided on Corpse Bride, a halloween classic but nothing too scary for late on a Tuesday night. You always found you were most happy in these quiet moments, curled up on the couch of the common room surrounded by your friends and not having to worry about techinques or curses or surviving.

That all went away, however, when thirty minutes into the movie, you began to hear strange sounds. It started out as a scraping sound on the floor, almost as if someone was dragging metal across the ground. Then you heard a faint laughing sound. You turned to Shoko who was beside you and a giggle from her confirmed she heard it too. You assumed Geto and Gojo had scuffled in from a night of mischief and were making their way to bed. You shook your head, smiling to yourself. Although you'd never admit it, you enjoyed spending your free time with them, chaotic as they may be.

Suddenly, you feel a tap on your shoulder. You glance at Shoko, who's dead asleep next to you, and then Nanami, who's resorted to reading a book that's settled in his lap.

You turn to see the looming figure of a masked man holding a chainsaw-- and let out a blood curdling scream.

Shoko jumped from her place on the couch, landing ten feet away; Haibara fell backwards off the edge of the couch; even Nanami leaned away and grimaced.

Startled, you tried to compose yourself, but it was hard to do so in the dark room with adrenaline coursing though your veins.

As you were coming to your senses, the lights flicker on and you see two people in front of you: Gojo, with a Jason mask resting around his neck, and Geto, holding a camcorder which was currently pointed at Haibara, who was still on the ground. Both of them were laughing their asses off, barely being able to breathe.

You hear a groan from Shoko behind you, "Ohhhhh, what the hell?" A "Come on, guys" is heard from Nanami, but you're still too in shock to respond.

Finally recovering from their hysterics, the boys gathered beside each other to review their footage. You hear the faint sound of your own scream and Shoko's yelp being played back on the tiny camera screen.

"You-- y-you should've seen your face!" Gojo says between breaths.

Standing up, you rubbed your face, trying to recover from the trauma you'd just gone through. Gojo notices the look on your face and pulls you in for a hug which you reluctantly accept since you needed the comfort.

Plus, getting a hug from Satoru wasn't that bad either.

"Aww, I'm sorry Y/n," Gojo said, gently stroking your back, "I could make it up to you with a kiss later?"

This caused you to shove his shoulder playfully, feigning digust. "Seriously? Gross."

You were interupted by Geto, "After that stunt, I don't think Shoko will ever like Halloween again."

You laughed, and Gojo behind you chimed in, "It was sooooo worth it though! We're gonna have this footage for life!"

The four of you settled on the couch, waving Nanami and Haibara goodnight when they decided they were tired (more like tired of this bs).

Everyone ended up falling asleep on the couch, so when the movie ended, Gojo shook Geto and Shoko awake, shushing them when they moved to wake you. Geto gave Gojo a wink and Shoko glared warning daggers at him as they made their ways to their own rooms.

Ever so gently, Gojo picked you up in his arms bridal-style and carried you to your bedroom, laying you in your bed.

As you were being tucked in, you stirred, blinking yourself awake.

"Satoru?" you questioned in your half-awake state, "Did the movie end...?"

He smiled to himself, pulling the sheets up to your chin. "Yeah, time to go to bed. Goodnight."

"Okay. Goodnight, Satoru."

Oh, and you did end up getting that kiss.

---

NOVEMBER, 2017

The fight had been going on for days at this poin. Everyone was on their toes, anxious and wondering what to do in the midst of all the chaos. It left you and Shoko in a strange position:

Gojo was gone. Getou's body was taken over long ago. Shoko had gotten word that Nanami was gone, too.

You had left the fight to go to you and Gojo's-- no, your apartment in Shibuya to gather supplies: bandages for the injured, water, food.

As you turned the key to unlock your home, you forced yourself to stare at the ground. You couldn't risk glancing at a picture frame and seeing the smiling face of your husband staring back at you.

You gathered the few things you came for and threw them into a bag, shuffling around the kitchen. You made your way into the living room, thinking you might grab some blankets to comfort the injured. As you were walking, you stumbled into a cardboard box, kicking it across the room on accident.

A stack of discs spilled onto the ground. You remembered, then, that Satoru had brought them out to show his students some footage of curses to study various cursed techniques. Of course, he had never gotten to show them.

Thinking nothing of it, you knelt down to pick them up. They were all pretty standard, marked with dates or the names of curses. One in particular, however, caught your attention.

You read your lover's handwriting, scribbled in black sharpie:

Scream Queen!!! '06 >;)

[mdanon027]

Back in his arms | Spencer Reid x FemaleReader

Back in his arms | Spencer Reid x FemaleReader

Masterlist

Summary | Three times Spencer Spencer Reid seeks for physical affection (Inspired by some of the Prompts from the list seeking out physical affection by @creativepromptsforwriting )

Word Count | 3095.

Warnings | I don’t think there’s any warning, if you found something triggering, please let me know.

Side Note: I don’t own any of Criminal Minds characters, words, or narrative. This is only a reinterpretation and fiction based on the Criminal Minds Universe they continue to develop. Also no repost is allowed. If you ever see this on another website, please let me know.

1. acting like they're cold to have an excuse to cuddle or share clothes or blankets

After a long case, the team was exhausted. The flight back to Quantico will take at least 8 hours, so they decided to travel back immediately after they ended the work. 

The flight was at night time. Close to the winter season, the weather is changing. So what better opportunity to get close to the person he was enchanted with, than get warm while getting close on the big couch of the plane? 

“Why are you so cold?” JJ asked Y/N.

“I really don't know, probably the warm weather before getting to the plane and the air conditioner here it's giving me chills.” She said while warming her arms.

“Did you know the average temperature in planes is about 22 to 24 degrees? That's because while we are flying the temperature outside is about -60 degrees…” He started to talk, until she interrupted him.

“So… I should be grateful?” She asked him while getting on the seats.

“They leave the temperature that way to have the average one on land, it is supposed to make you comfortable.” He said while passing her his own sweater.

“I was planning on saying no to your sweater, but I'm going to say yes because I'm really cold.” She told him while putting the sweater on.

They took their seats, and the flight began.

“Go Pretty Boy, it's the perfect time for a snuggle.” Said Derek passing by with a coffee, giving him a smirk.

“I don't know what you mean.” He decided to play it cool. 

“Don't play dumb.” Rossi told him from his seat.

“What are you talking about?” He knew perfectly what they were talking about, but he knew that if he admitted it, the teasing would have no end. 

“Leave him alone, if Reid doesnt what to make another move, then he won't.” Hotch said.

“Another move?” He asks now, curious.

“I mean, giving up your sweater even when you never ever take it off on a daily basis? For me it was a move.” Now Hotch was profiling him. 

“You are joining them?” He couldn't believe that the man was joining the fun.

“It's not that I'm joining, but if you want to make a move, you should start doing something.” Ended Hotch getting back to his report while smiling. 

After two hours of flight, everyone already had a quick dinner and some of them were almost ready to fall asleep. But Y/N was still cold, so he finally decided to use his knowledge to his advantage. 

“You may not say anything, but I can see you are getting colder, we can share the blanket.” He said while looking at her while she trembled.

“I think it’s a great idea.” She stood up from her seat and got close to him on the couch.

Spencer makes a space for her, and covers her up with the blanket.

“High stress levels can cause flu-like symptoms, such as fever, cold, nausea, and body aches. There's a high possibility you are about to get sick.” He said while looking down at her.

“Probably. This case was a mess, thankfully we resolved it.” She said while shivering.

“Layering clothes to get warm could prevent the colds. But right now, the clothes are limited, I can give you a hug, if you want to.” He said while feeling his face getting warm. He took the chance to have her in his arms. At that moment he could hear some laughs from the seats, apparently the interaction wasn’t as private as he thought.  He looked around to see his teammates giving him thumps ups while Emily said “Nice one!”.

He wasn’t sure on how to act properly on how to start a romantic “relationship ”. The few times he had experienced, were either brief and the closest he had, ended up in a tragedy. 

Thankfully he was learning to live with it, with a new hope of finding someone to spend his life with. But he was wheeling to take a try.

2. fixing the other's hairstyle to let their hands run through their partner's hair

He was an expert talking for audiences. He usually did not get nervous about it, after conferences, seminars or even giving classes at college, it was easy peasy. 

But it was the first time Y/N was going to talk to an audience giving a class of her expertise. 

She was good at talking to the press when needed, or even to groups to calm the masses in times of fear. But it was different to try to explain situations to people in dangerous situations than teaching young people how to act as a mediator in dangerous situations. 

She knew how to react, but one thing was doing it and another different to explain it.

Rossi invited Hotch and Y/N to give a lecture on how to act on situations that involve firearms and detonation objects. The team knew she was one of the best ones in that field, with no mistake shots, amazing disarmament skills and extraordinary knowledge on bombs (just like Derek teached  her on her Academy days).

They spend several late nights together (sometimes with the other members joining) practicing her lecture. It had anything and everything that could possibly happen, and she was ready for any possible question. 

All the team was there to support her. 

“I’m nervous.” Y/N said while fixing her hair looking through the window reflection.

“Garcia is inside getting ready with your slides. Take a deep breath, you're going to do great.” Hotch told her.

“Yeah, you practiced a lot and if anything happens, you just need to talk about the heroic job you do every day.” Said Rossi, while getting close to the door of the exhibition room. “Hotch and I are going to start, and then you will proceed.”

“A brief introduction and you will continue.” Said Hotch, entering the room.

“You will be doing fine! If anything happens, we are going to be inside, just look for us if you get really nervous.” Said Emily, while Derek and JJ get inside the room.

“You are going to do just fine, just like we practice, remember it's more a talk than a class. They want to know how it's going to be in their future work field.” Spencer told her while opening the door for her.

“You are right, in that room we are the only ones that know how things actually work.” She took a deep breath.

“Let me fix the final details from your hair.” Spencer told her before Rossi and Hotch started to talk. “All done. You can do it. If you get nervous, just look for me and start talking to me.” He winked, while getting to his seat.

Rossi and Hotch started the talk with certain facts and background about de BAU, and proceeded to let Y/N start explaining.

At one point of the lecture she got so passionate about it, that she started to pass her fingers through her hair thanks to the constant hair interrupting her view. While brushing it, she didn’t notice it was beginning to get disheveled. For sure her attendants didn’t care about it, they were deep into the information the expert was giving them for their future work field.

By the end of the lecture, the students were ecstatic with the knowledge they received, even asking for her contact info for future references related to their courses, some of them asking their professor if they could invite Y/N again in the future. 

Rossi was right to invite her.

The first one to arrive was Spencer.

“Let me fix your hair.” He said while brushing his fingers through her hair.

“Again?” She said surprised.

“It's kind of untidy over here.” He continued,

“Was like this all the time?” She said with little worry in her voice.

“For about more than half of your presentation.” He answered.

“Really? Why didn't you tell me something?” She asked him.

“That could be distracting for you.”He finished fixing her hair. “All done!”

“You could make me a sign.” Y/N told him.

“You didn't even look at us, and your hair gets that way when you start to talk really excited about the things that fascinates you, it always blocks your vision and you start to adjust your hair.” Spencer commented on that fact.

“Why haven't you ever told me that?” Now she was curious.

“Because you look cute that way.” He answered her. “Now come here, let me congratulate you.” He proceeds to give her a hugh, she is back into his arms. “You did marvelous over there! A natural instructor.”

“Thanks for helping me rehearse over 20 times.” She couldn't express how grateful she was with him.

“Actually, it was 34 times.” All he could hear was her laugh. “Not that I was counting.” He was in fact counting. She just smiled looking up at him.

The next one to approach was the team.

“Come here.” Penelope said while hugging her really tight. “You did amazing, my friend!.”

“You think so?”

“Yes! The presentation was amazing, really to the point and with the details that needed to be exposed.” Said Emily while joining the hug.

“Of course Y/LN.” Said Hotch while giving her a smile. 

“You were outstanding, I made a good decision to bring you with me today.” Said Rossi. “Whenever you want to come back and give another class, we can arrange you a spot.”

“And not forgetting that I teached you the basics back in your days.” Said Derek giving her a big hug. 

“You should give a class together.” Said JJ, getting close to congratulate her dear friend.

“Thank you, every single one of you for helping me get prepared for this.” Y/N with a big smile on her face. “Especially Spencer, thanks for listening to my lecture 34 times.” She said while giving him a hug.

“This deserves a celebration! Dinner at my house tonight!” Said Rossi from behind.

Everyone started to walk away, to finally celebrate another accomplishment that one of their teammates got.

3. reaching out with their hand without saying anything, wanting the other one to grab it

Spencer knew the basics of dancing. Really the basics, it took him time, but Derek and Penelope helped him during their free times. 

You may ask, why?

Rossi was doing his annual Christmas Celebration, only with the BAU team. It wasn’t a big deal of a party, but for sure a ball in small proportions. An attempt of dancing was another opportunity to be close (at least even more close than what they already are) to Y/N, and he was taking a chance. The team kept teasing him, but later he realized they were just trying to help him to get with her, and he was willing to take their support.

“Pretty Boy, it’s time.” Said Derek.

“I don’t know, we only took a few lessons.” Said Spencer unsure.

“Believe me, you will want to hold her close for a while.” Said Penelope.

“What do you mean?”

“You will know soon.” Ended Derek.

From afar, he could see Y/N and Emily talking, they were really into the conversation while JJ and Will made comments, they were really into it.

The music started to sound in the background and Rossi, as the extra person he was, made an invitation so they could start to dance while the turntable was in the works of preparation. 

Derek and Penelope were the ones who opened the dance floor, following behind Hotch and Beth, and JJ with Will.

Hotch gave him a look and a nod pointing to Y/N’s table. It was time.

He built up courage, got closer to the table and reached his hand so she could take it. Without hesitation, she took it. He started to walk to the dance floor.

He held her close. Was like a dream. And they started to dance.

“I didn’t know you could dance.” She said to him, in a low voice.

“You don’t know a lot of things about me.” Spencer told her.

“Well, I know a lot about you, but this one specifically wasn’t in my radar.” She ended.

They kept slow dancing for several songs, making small conversations between some comfortable silence moments. It wasn’t weird, they could almost talk through their eyes.

Until she decided to talk again.

“I’m probably leaving.” She said really low and slow.

“What do you mean? You can’t leave.” He wasn't expecting this type of news.

“It’s only for a time.” She wasn't looking at him.

“Why?” He was confused, wasn’t she happy with the team?

“Emily recommended me to the Interpol for a special training. Apparently one of the asistans from the lecture I gave, it’s interested in me teaching their team on explosive objects. Derek also sent a letter, endorsing my knowledge in the topic.” She finished.

“Why didn’t you tell me anything?” He really wanted to know, they were supposed to be close.

“I didn’t knew. They just told me this morning. I’m still thinking about it. Hotch and Rossi already knew, and are encouraging me to take it. But first I wanted to ask you, what did you think about ir.” Oh, that was it.

“Is my opinion that important?” Maybe they were more than close friends. 

“You are the closest friend I have, in my personal and professional life. Most of the time, you are my teammate.” She spoke. 

The next few songs were danced in silence, she kept her head close to his body listening to his heartbeat. What could he tell her? It was a great chance for her. He wasn't going to stop her professional growth.

“You should take it.” He finally spoke his mind.

“Really?” She finally looked at him.

“You are amazing at doing your work. It would be a waste of your talent not taking this opportunity.” It was the truth. 

“But it's a long time, and I'm going to be away from home and alone, and without you.” It sounded like she wouldn't take the chance of being far away trying new things.

“It's only two months, even though I’m not a big fan of technology, we can video call each other whenever you want. You already know I have a non average sleep schedule or even we can message all day.” 

He promised, now they were close, he took one more chance to hold her back in his arms as close as possible for the time they had before her departure.

+1 turning their cheek to get the other one to give them a peck

After being gone for more than two months, thanks to the fact that she was required for a special task outside the country (by Emily's and Derek's recommendation), she was finally back with the team.

He was waiting, with her favorite coffee, pastry and a flower plushie (he knew she was allergic to them, or at least the ones of this season). 

They talked every single day since she was gone. He knew all the things she did overseas. But he wanted to know about them again, even if he repeated them in his thoughts every time after they ended talking, he needed  to see her face in real life while talking and to get lost in her eyes. 

He couldn’t explain how he felt about her. She was more than a colleague, more than a teammate, more than a friend and he believed more than her soulmate. 

During this time afar, he realized what truly was to care for a person, even when they were not physically together. It was the same feeling he had for his mother, there was no day he didn’t speak to her, and the same thing happened with Y/N. 

While growing up, he was used to either getting ignored or being made fun of.

But she always listened to every single fact he had to say, when he talked fast about something he is passionate about, or only listened and talked to him about his thoughts.

For sure he was in love with her.

She arrived at the office, while everyone was there to welcome her back. She passed by a line of hugs and warm words. She was missed in the team.

After all the greetings,she started to look for him, she was wearing one of his sweaters he lent her for the trip, and proceeded to give him a hug. He had never received a hug as tight as the one he was experiencing. 

“I missed you so much, Spencer.” She said with an almost inaudible voice while burying her face in his sweater while catching his scent.

“I missed you even more.” He told her, while topping her head.

“Even if we talked every single day I was gone?” She looked directly into his eyes.

“It’s not the same, a screen can’t take a chance than talking to your pretty face.” He was smiling.

“Oh, Spencer.” She whispered close to his cheek ready to give him a peck, she was the only one allowed to do it.

It was now or never.

He turned around.

It was a small peck. And he looked delighted.

“I'm so sorry Spencer.” She said, astonished. While looking at him with those beautiful startled eyes.

“I'm not.” He said back, getting another peck from her. This time she was also smiling, but stayed silent. “If you want me to stop, please tell me something,”

She shut him down with a proper kiss. 

“The kid finally did it.” Rossi muttered to Hotch.

“He took his time.” He said while smiling. Everyone knew they eventually ended up together.

From the other side of the room, their teammates were giggling at the young ones.

“Well, it’s sad I have to break it to you, but we have a case. To the round table.” Said Hotch from his office, getting close to Spencer while giving him a palm to his back.

“Oh, come on Hotch, let the love birds have a little more time.” Said Derek getting close to Spencer and giving a small side hug to the both of them.

“Come on, we have work to do.” Spencer said, giving her a last small kiss, and started to hold her hand while starting walking. “You are never ever leaving my side, ok?”

“Ok.” She couldn't believe it. She was amazed with what just happened. 

There was no better welcome back.

Back in his arms. 

Autor’s Note: Hello Again! As I told you before, I'm in my Criminal Minds Era, so this is the second time Im writting about this!I wanted to post if before my +10 hours flight to my Holiday Vacation! Its probably the last thing I'm writting/posting this year related to an original work. I was feeling inspired this days. I hope you like it!

If any of the authors I read ever read this, to let you know I always go as anon (thanks that this is my side blog) and I always sign as -MD💜 or -MDanon027💜 (@mdanon027). Thanks for the inspiration!

Also, please be honest if you like it or nah. Any comment will help for future personal writing skills. And if you see any misspelling, I’m sorry, I already reread it several times, and English it’s not my first language. Please don’t mind on telling me to correct anything.

[guardianspirits13]

Watching The Punisher because I heard it was good and need to fill the time before the next Daredevil episode... I don't know what I was expecting but I was a little taken aback that they made a pro-gun control senator look like a bumbling idiot.

Like I know the MCU has a contract with the US Military to loan out equipment for their franchises in exchange for a favorable portrayal.

I also know that it would make much more sense for citizens to have guns in the Marvel universe where there are like 10+ super powered individuals operating out of NYC at any given time and yet somehow there is more (violent) crime there on a daily basis in NYC than there has ever been IRL, almost as if they by their very nature invite opposition to challenge them (as it was argued in Civil War) and/or they inspire copycats.

Karen Page, of all people, deserves to have a gun because of all of the targets she has placed on her own back either because she's sticking her nose where it doesn't belong (affectionate) or because of the company she keeps (close friendships with BOTH Matt and Frank). If you want to piss off half the vigilantes in Manhattan, she's the one to aim for. So like, in this fictional scenario, she is well within her right to carry a handgun.

Having said all that, all of the language surrounding guns and glorifying the military makes it very easy for me to understand why conservatives have co-opted the Punisher's symbol. He takes pride in having been a Marine despite having committed war crimes during classified missions. He views himself as an executioner and feels like bombs are cowardly because they hurt innocent people and don't require the same willpower to shoot someone dead on. Not to mention how he's the perfect traditional "family man" and makes a point to protect women and children.

Needless to say this is all very idealistic and as Matt argues he has no right to determine who deserves to die based on his own subjective and often hypocritical terms. His argument is that he only kills bad people and even if every person he targets truly is as evil as he believes, only in a superhero world would he somehow never kill or hurt anyone innocent in the crossfire.

I'm having a hard time finding the words to distinguish his justice from that of corrupt cops or other "bad guys with guns" other than the fact that he is not state sanctioned and miraculously never targets anyone who "doesn't deserve it". I think season 2 of Daredevil did a MUCH better job of portraying the grey morality of his actions and painting him as an anti-hero with severe mental health struggles.

Maybe it's because he's the protagonist in his own show, but there's much less of a seed of doubt as to whether he's in the right. I am only 9.5 out of 13 episodes into season 1 so this may change, but the second they introduced the gun control senator I'm consuming the show a little more critically.

If anyone has finished the series or especially if you'd read the comics, I'd love to hear your thoughts on this.

[haminjago]

The way you draw Toshi is just divine 🥺💛 What's your favorite thing about All Might?

AWW thank you! And to be honest there is a lot lol but I think the biggest thing is just how much I feel like I can relate to him in some ways? He's so selfless to the point where it's almost dangerous, and the whole notion of him believing that he didn't have any worth or ability to assist his students anymore after losing his quirk really struck a chord with me? Overall I just think his character is fascinating and one of my favorite tropes is the character that gives themselves so much to the point where theres nothing left. Also the whole concept of him having to mask how he really feels on a daily basis is also just hitting home in some ways. I just see a lot of myself in him and I love the way he's written so much...I find him to be such a tragic but inspiring character at the same time, and everyday I thank Horikoshi for letting him get to be the old(er) man he is at the end of the manga

I also just like old men and and hes a dork and pretty and blonde and funny and hes my husband thats all ty

[billiousserpent]

This is my interpretation of Keegan P. Russ luvlies!!

Man I've seen people talk about how they were disappointed when they saw his face so I draw him in my style instead. Literally had to trace his facial features so y'all can see what I see 😘

Let's talk about his face— Okay, some may say that I might've draw him a little older than how he old he actually is(?) But that's just how I view him as. Let's be real here this man is almost in his forties, fucking tired from his job, too. The fuck y'all expect? A role model 😭??

Though from how I draw him, he may look a little similar towards Blooms, can you blame me? I traced it and had to at least give Brian some credits for the character. (Ngl he has a big ass forehead, I love it.)

Hair? I like to think that he may, or may not get it buzzed, but either way, I like it. In my opinion, this man has very thick silky hair yet often keeps it trimmed due to his job requirements. Man barely gets contact with ANY necessary products for his body nor hair in a normal daily basis

Little plus— I think he would have a pretty jawline, but I can't say it's the most visible, though. But you can still feel it whenever you caress his handsome face. I have a feeling his facial hair also grows fast, so he shaves it almost every(?) morning to keep it neat. Sometimes would forget it, though. You know what's his reminder? The amount to discomfort he feels once he puts his mask on, man can't even complain shit cus he knew it's his fault for forgetting (poor bebe) I also wanted to add his tattoos, but still don't know how to unfortunately :(( Think it's more of tentacles and as for his leg, i can say there's a cobweb design but can't really see the rest.

Also this is how I would see him if he hasn't buzzed his hair yet 👇👇👇

I'd also like to address that the HCs are from a friend of mine! I have spoken to one of the artist where my friend got the inspiration from, and wanted to give credits to them!

Credits to: @moosch !!

You should check out their content about this man (or about the Ghosts), too! To me (+ my friend) their HCs of him are very accurate!!

[rippeanuts1950-2000]

i hate u i love u

Prev|Next

Chapter 3)

He never flirted with her first.

Oh sure, Corey flirted with her on a daily basis but that was when she was winning an argument, not because she was just minding her own business. What is his deal? Is he trying to get her to let her guard down? Well tough luck, he lost that privilege three years ago.

These are the thoughts running through Laney’s head as she does stock check in the back. Remind her again why she took this job? It is a miracle enough that she got hired, considering her history with Corey but a part of her wonders why she still took it even though she doesn’t hang out with Corey anymore.

Mostly she knows it was for nostalgia. This shop was where she got her first bass. She remembers how six year old her held Corey’s hand as they tried to find the perfect instrument for her. Mr Riffin was so patient with them, especially Corey because he kept pointing out instruments that he thought looked cool to Laney.

(“We have to find you the coolest instrument, Lanes.” He had said. “Why Core?” Laney had asked. “Because you’re the coolest person I know!” Corey had answered. She’s pretty sure that after that moment she gained her crush on Corey.)

Laney shakes her head of the memory. It’s weird to think about it, the time before Grojband. Before they stopped being friends. The inner child in her misses it.

Whatever, what’s done is done. 

Speaking of things being done, she’s almost done noting down stock which means she’s gonna have to face Corey again. Sometimes she wonders what would happen if she quit.

*****

“That was fast.” Corey says when she steps out to the front. “We don’t have much stuff in the back.” Laney responds, refusing to look at him. “Did you finish what I asked you to do?” Corey nervously scratches the back of his neck. “So the funny thing is, I didn’t do that. Instead I wrote more lyrics to my song.” He answers. Laney scoffs. Well at least he didn’t try to lie to her.

“So the one time I need you to NOT write lyrics, you end up writing lyrics.” She snaps. Corey throws his hands up in a “so sue me” kind of way. “The words started flowing and my inspiration was going wild!” He argues. For some reason, his words make Laney want to yell at him more. “But you couldn’t have that when I was still part of the band?” She says bitterly. Honestly this sort of thing shouldn’t affect her as much as it does. But the fact that he started taking writing lyrics seriously and actually stopped relying on the diary after she left has always left a bad taste in her mouth.

Corey glares at her. “Oh this again? For the last time, I didn’t have inspiration back then! I was thirteen, stupid, and wanted our band to get big so that I could share our music with the world!” He exclaims. 

Laney slams her hands down on the register counter. “And what changed? Cause last I checked you did have inspiration from Trina’s diary entries. How do you have inspiration now all of a sudden?” She’s screaming at Corey at this point but honestly she doesn’t care. “I just do okay!” Corey says, crossing his arms. “Oh my god, could you give me an actual reason instead of that? You do this everytime I ask!” She snaps. Corey stomps over to the register, looking ready to yell at her like a mad man. Good, cause Laney will yell right back. “Did it ever occur to you that you leaving might have been my inspiration? Now that I don’t have you breathing down my neck about lyrics every five seconds, I know how to write lyrics without the diary.” He answers, and even though he’s not yelling Laney can sense the anger in his voice.

Laney shoves him away from her. At some point since he got over to the cash register he had somehow managed to get in her face. “I only lectured you so much about lyrics because you never tried hard enough to write GOOD lyrics on your own and you ALWAYS relied on Trina’s diary. And then like two minutes before we had to perform, you always made us drop everything to steal the stupid diary despite the fact I always told you to do it ahead of time. If anything, I was the reason we got anything done.” She growls, jabbing a finger against his chest. Corey scowls. “You held us back!” He yells. Laney freezes.

Did he just?

Oh this dumbass.

“I held the band back? Riffin, that is the biggest load of bull shit that has ever come out of your mouth. I’m the reason why Grojband fucking exists. I was the one who told you we should start a band. I was the one who asked Kin and Kon to join because you were scared they would say no despite the fact that we had been taking music classes with them since we were seven. I was the one who booked us our first gig. I was the one who helped you come up with the name! What did you do? Write bad lyrics and criticize me when I had valid objections. Held the band back, my ass. If anything, that was you!” Laney screams. Thank god Mr Riffin wasn’t in the shop that moment, she would have been fired for sure.

“Lanes, I-” Corey tries to say something but Laney cuts him off. “Shut up, I don’t want to hear it. And you lost the right to call me Lanes three years ago.” She says, ducking down and pulling her headphones and her lyrics folder out her backpack. She crams the headphones over her head, turns on Paramore, and pulls out the lyrics for i hate u, i love u. It’s been way too long since she last worked on it.

Out of the corner of her eye Laney can see Corey watching her as she writes, an apologetic look on his face. He sees her looking at him apparently, because after a few seconds of subtly glancing at him, he mouths “I’m sorry.” at her.

Whatever, what’s done is done and she’s gonna make sure the Newmans win the Battle Of The Bands.

*****

“What did you do?”

Corey glances haphazardly at Kin who is currently trying to play god with fusing genes or something at his little office space in Corey’s garage. Honestly Corey’s not even sure he cares to know what he’s doing after how he acted yesterday. “A lot of things.” Corey mumbles, rolling over on the couch. Kon, who is chilling on the floor in front of the couch eating cheese and chips for some reason, hands him a bag of chips. “Did Laney reject the Battle Of The Bands bet?” He asks. Corey takes the bag unceremoniously. “Nope, she said yes.” Corey says.

Kin lifts up his goggles and swivels his chair towards him. “How'd you mess up with her this time?” He asks, pulling out a notepad and a pen, ready to take notes on his friend’s issue. Sometimes Corey thinks Kin is convinced he’s a mad scientist/licensed therapist. Only one of those things is true. Unfortunately for Corey, he can not afford a real therapist so Kin is all he’s got.

“Let’s see, not only did I flirt with her unprompted, the next thing I did after flirting with her was get into an argument with her. And what does my brilliant brain decide to say when I’m losing the argument? That she held the band back.” Corey lists off. Kon starts gagging on a piece of cheese he had been eating while Kin’s pen explodes because he’s gripping it too tightly. 

“YOU TOLD HER WHAT?!?” The twins scream at him. Kin grabs Corey by the shoulders and starts shaking him. “Corey, you idiot! Laney was the original heart and soul of Grojband! Without her we almost fell apart, don’t you remember?” Kin rants. If Corey wasn’t being manhandled by him, he would have yelled at Kin.

Of course he remembers, he almost broke the band up because of it. Making music without Lanes sucked. He never thought he would miss her constant reminders to start writing lyrics soon or they were gonna be in deep trouble, but he did. Kin and Kon were great but he had known Laney since they were in kindergarten. She was the first person to believe in him outside of his dad and Trina(back when she was Katrina and not Trina). If it hadn’t been for Kin and Kon telling him that they should at least try and make music without Lanes did he realize that breaking the band up was a stupid idea. Now the band is as strong as it was before, just missing a bass player. Both in reality and in their hearts.

“I know, it was stupid and dumb and I regret every word I said. Except for the flirting, that I stand by.” Corey says, once Kin has stopped shaking him. Kon groans. “Corey, that’s not the point. You still said it and that probably lowered her opinion of us, again.” He says, shaking his head in disappointment. “If you love her, why do you act like this?”

Corey opens his mouth to argue but then closes it. “I…I don’t know.” He admits. This snaps Kin back from his quiet ramblings about blue haired idiots. He picks up his notepad and gets a new pen from out of his pocket. “Let’s dig deeper into that, shall we? Now I understand you and Miss Penn had been friends for years before the incident in 9th grade.” He says, tapping the pen on his pad. “Yes, Kin, we were. Why are you acting like this is something you don’t know?” Corey grouses.

“Restating it allows me to understand your mind a bit more which will make it easier for me to excavate it. Anyway, before the incident in 9th grade did you realize your feelings about Ms Penn?” Kin asks, waving Corey off. “No, it wasn’t until after she left did I even start to think about feeling that way towards her.” Corey says, picking at his nails. He really needs to repaint them. “Good, good. So when she left the band and stopped being your best friend, did it feel like a break up?” Kin continues. “Dude, you know he felt like it was a break up. We had to drag Corey out of his room because of how bad it got.” Kon cuts in. “Ugh, Kon you just ruined my dramatic ‘this is why you act this way’ speech! Thanks a lot.” Kin replies tersely.

“Your what now?” Corey tries to ask before Kin shushes him. “What I was going to ask after the break up question was going to be some questions about the Ewmans and how you felt after she made friends with them. But since that’s ruined, I’ll just get straight to the point. Corey, you subconsciously want Laney to hurt the way you did when she stopped being your best friend. In order to do that you hurt her verbally in hopes that she’ll feel the way you felt back then.” Kin explains. 

Corey blinks. That explains so much. “So how do I stop acting like this?” He asks. Kin shrugs. “I don’t know, unfortunately. I could figure it out by doing some brain scans. And possibly going into your mind and switching around a few things.” He suggests. Corey immediately shields his head. “No we’re not doing that!” He exclaims.

“Calm down, it was just a suggestion.” Kin says, as if Corey’s reaction is unjustified. Corey lets out a sigh. “Kon, what do you think I should do?” He asks. Kon raises an eyebrow. “I think it’s pretty obvious. Stop being a dick and stop flirting with her when she’s clearly not into you anymore.” He says. “But flirting with her is so fun!” Corey whines. “Well stop doing it because you always do it after you’ve been a dick to her.” Kon says, rolling his eyes. “It’s not rocket science, Corey.”

“So I should just leave her be until the Battle Of The Bands?” Corey asks. “I mean that wasn’t what I was suggesting but that does kind of sound somewhat of a good idea.” Kon says. “He’s right, it’ll probably make Laney feel better about having to leave the Ewmans for a month to hang out with us. Which will increase the odds of her joining us permanently.” Kin says, scribbling down some complicated math equation that apparently connects with Laney. “And that’s what I want to happen.” Corey murmurs. Kin and Kon pat him on the back. “That’s what we all want to happen buddy.” Kin says quietly. “So don’t mess it up for us.” Kon teases.

Corey grins. “I’ll do my best. Now let’s get practicing, we can’t get Laney back if we’re not good enough. ”

WE ARE SO BACK! So sorry about how late this is and that it’s short and probably not my best work. I’ve started writing the next chapter so hopefully the next wait won’t be so long. Let me know what you think and as always my asks open if you’re confused about something! I’ll see you next time, bye for now!

[sl-newsie]

The Secret Ingredient (Willy Wonka (2023) x Fickelgruber Daughter) Chapter 2: Pleased To Meet You

Previous: https://www.tumblr.com/sl-newsie/747510006135554048/the-secret-ingredient-willy-wonka-2023-x?source=share

“Are you alright, Ms. Charlotte?” Lottie asks as she brings over my breakfast tray. “You seem distracted.”

She’s right. Ever since yesterday my mind’s been in a fog. I can’t stop thinking about the man in the top hat. It’s like I’ve got a nagging feeling in the back of my head that’s itching to know who he is.

“Sorry, Lottie. I usually don’t take so much interest in newcomers, but there was something different about that man yesterday. I hope father doesn’t go too hard on him.”

“I very much plan to!” The man in question announces. “That Wonka fellow is going to wish he’d never set foot in this town!”

My head perks up. “Wonka?” Now I have a name to match the face. “But why? He won’t hurt anyone.”

Father scoffs. “He will hurt our business! Besides, he’s-” he shutters. “P- P-”

I raise a brow. “Poor?”

He leans over and gags. “Yes! That! But don’t worry, dear. We are going to run him out and he will no longer be a threat.”

I feel my temper start to churn and I gawk at his arrogance. “There’s more to life than competition, dad. He wants to sell chocolate, that’s all. Isn’t encouraging his dream worth a few coins?”

But it’s no use. Once again my words wash over father and he walks off to join Prodnose and Slugworth for their morning meeting. Guess I’ll go back to my usual reading and study sessions? Unless…

“Say, Lottie,” I think out loud. “I might be willing to take up that offer from yesterday. You’d still be inclined to sneak me out tonight for a bit, would you?”

The maid’s eyes widen and she gets a funny smile. “Yes! I knew it! I knew there was something funny about you yesterday!”

I frown. “What’s that mean?”

She giggles. “Oh, you know. See a cute boy, can’t stop thinking about him…” She trails off suggestively.

“Excuse me?” I gawk. “What’s wrong with wanting to meet someone new? This man might be the adventure I’ve been looking for!”

The day drags on unbelievably slow. The whole time I’m stuck in mind-numbing private lessons about finance and lady etiquette. The only enjoyable session I have is my lecture on chocolate chemistry.

“Mr. Snickers, just how many cocoa beans can be churned into chocolate? Wouldn’t it be the more beans there are the richer the chocolate is?”

My teacher gets a certain gleam in his eye that always happens when I spark an idea. “One would think, Ms. Fickelgruber. But there is also a rumor that there could be a secret ingredient we may never be able to measure.”

A secret ingredient…

Mr. Snickers is by far one of my favorite people. Sometimes I wish he was my adoptive father. He’s no doubt much more caring than my real one. Sadly he has no wife or kids of his own so he’s devoted his life to teaching. His lessons both inspire imagination and moxy, which are things my life craves on a daily basis.

“I’ll leave off with that note,” Mr. Snickers says as he packs up his briefcase. “Remember your assignment is to compare the different cocoa bean to sugar ratios from the major chocolate corporations.”

Just then Lottie appears with his weekly check in hand. They both exchange shy smiles and my hypothesis thickens. For weeks I’ve been seeing their feelings blossom and it only drives my curiosity behind the idea of love. Obviously they take a fancy to each other so why ignore it? But perhaps it’s not as simple.

I catch a quick peek at the window. It’s dark now, meaning it’s almost time for father to retire to bed. My moment of opportunity approaches. It’s best to wear something less conspicuous so as to not draw attention from the constables. For this evening’s confidential gallivant I choose a plain light pink dress with brown boots. I’m actually surprised these are still in my closet. I haven’t worn anything this “poor” in years. But unlike father I prefer a touch of modesty.

Deep breath. Take a look outside… All dark. Father’s gone to bed. Time to move-

Thump. Thump.

What in Heaven? There’s footsteps on the ceiling- Wait a minute. Is that…? It is! The chocolate man and a little girl are floating on the roof! Carrying… balloons? There’s no way I can walk away from this now!

I do little to hide my excitement and take off running down the staircase.

Lottie spots me and starts following. “Where are you going?”

My smile widens. “I’m meeting destiny, Lottie!”

She grips her long skirt and chases after me. “Wait for me! I need to sneak you out, remember?”

Right. That part.

“Quick, get in here.” Lottie beckons to the dumbwaiter and I climb inside. “Once you’re downstairs, take the door on the right. It should lead you to the back alley. Good luck!”

She gives me one final wave and I’m lowered into the cellar. Down here all there is are extra ingredients and old trunks full of countless forgotten things. I follow Lottie’s instructions and step out into the brick alley. It’s so dark not a single shadow is cast. The perfect environment for a quick sneak-out.

If my intuition is correct, the wind would have blown the two balloonists towards West End Street. Thankfully there’s little foot traffic so I have the courtesy to search the skies without bumping into anyone. Since father hardly lets me leave I need to stay focused and not get lost. I shall use landmarks. Like this fountain-

“Don’t sell chocolate here ever again!”

The police chief’s familiar voice heightens my attention and I see him holding a man’s head under the cold water. Wait! Why is he dunking him?

“Stop!” I sprint over and now see it’s the Wonka man that’s being held under. “Chief, he’s done nothing wrong!”

“On the contrary, miss. He sold chocolate without a license.”

After a few seconds too long I start to fear for his vitals. “Let him breathe!”

The chief realizes he’s still holding Wonka under. “Oh. Right.”

He lets go and the poor man rises gasping for breath, sopping wet. Same overcoat, same worn out boots. I notice a top hat on the ground and pick it up to offer him. But Wonka’s still clearing the water from his eyes and he doesn’t see. 

“There’s your warning, Wonka,” the chief pats him on the back and starts walking away. “Have a good evening, miss.”

Wonka wipes the wet hair away from his face and now I can see just how cute he is, even if he is wet. But not just cute. There’s an intriguing look about him that makes me feel nostalgic and want to explore the wildest ideas my mind can conjure.

“It is you!” I gasp. “The strange man with the magic chocolate!” 

The man himself does a mock bow and tilts his head. “I’m sorry, have we met before?”

I shake my head. “No. In fact, I was hoping I might find you to meet you properly.”

Wonka’s eyes twinkle. “Really?”

“Yes I want to meet the man who made everyone happy with his chocolate. You see, normally the chocolate around here isn’t as enchanting as others make it out to be. But your chocolate really seemed to spark something in people yesterday.” I bite my lip and hold up his hat again as a kind of peace offering. “I’m sorry you got kicked out. I tried to stop them.”

“Thank you!” The man grins and places the hat on his head. “Well, since you have done me a service it’s only fair that you get to taste the marvelous chocolate you seem to admire. Here, try one!” 

He digs into his pocket and pulls out a chocolate the size of a strawberry. No charge? Father would go ballistic over free samples. It’s not that I’m not touched by his gesture but chocolate has sadly started to become more ordinary than it should.

“Oh, thank you. I appreciate it, really. It’s just… I’m personally not a big fan of chocolate…”

“Come again?” Wonka suddenly gets a serious expression. “I don’t trust people who don’t like chocolate.”

I roll my eyes. “I don’t not like chocolate, it’s just that chocolate’s been a bigger part of my life than I’d care to admit.”

The man seems amused by my answer and tips his hat.

“I like you! Oh, where are my manners? Name’s Wonka, Willy Wonka! At your service! Miss…?”

A name. He wants my name.

I bite my lip again as I banter with my internal struggle. 

“It’s Charlotte.”

Willy gives me a lopsided grin. “Usually there’s a second part, right?”

I nervously laugh half-heartedly. “Yes, but for me people usually judge me differently when they hear the second part.”

The top-hatted man steps closer and wiggles his eyebrows. “Promise I won’t.”

I arch an eyebrow to show my doubts.

“I promise! And-” He holds up a pinkie. “I’ll pinkie promise!”

His childlike demeanor is too adorable to ignore despite my brain tugging at me to say no.

“Charlotte Fickelgruber,” I speak quickly and tense up, waiting for him to scoff or lose interest. But instead Willy’s surprise is actually polite.

“Really? I didn’t know Fickelgruber had a daughter.”

“Not many do,” I mutter. “Aside from being next in line for his chocolate empire I really don’t have much purpose.”

“Why say that?” Willy asks. “You’re part of one of the biggest chocolate industries ever!”

“Yes, and you’ve personally witnessed how cruel my father can be.”

We start a slow walking pace down the dimly-lit cobblestone street. Now I notice Willy’s still using a cane.

“Why the cane? You're not crippled.”

“It adds character!” he smiles. “You’d be surprised how many uses it can have.”

I peer over at him with curious eyes. “What’s your story? You’re obviously not from here.”

Wonka grins. “That obvious, huh? You’re right. I’ve just come from sailing 7 years at sea.”

My eyes widen. “Sailing? That sounds fun! What’s it like? Are there sea monsters and mermaids? I’ve only ever read about what the outside world is like.”

The man chuckles at my response. “I never spotted one of those, though that doesn’t mean they could be real. Do you read much?”

“Yes. Books are what take me away from here.”

“I know someone who thinks the exact same thing,” Willy points at me as if he’s a salesman addressing a lucky customer. “Well, this is me.”

We’ve stopped at what looks like a dingy hotel. Hm. For being such a colorful character Wonka certainly picked a dodgy place to stay.

“Will you be back at the Galeries Gourmet tomorrow?” I ask anxiously. “People adore your chocolate so you’re bound to make a big profit.”

Willy takes off his hat and twirls it open his finger. “Sadly I’m afraid my business deals will have to be done under the table from now on. Or better yet, under the city.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that since I’m not allowed to sell chocolate in the Galeries Gourmet without a license then I’m selling it elsewhere.”

An uneasy feeling starts to churn in my stomach. Illegal chocolate? What has this world come to?

“Don’t worry.” He must have noticed my concern. “I made some new friends who have helped me come up with a plan. By tomorrow Wonka chocolate will be sold throughout the city for one sovereign apiece, unbeknownst to the police.”

I stifle a laugh. “You only charge one sovereign? No wonder father and the others are upset. That’s way too affordable for their standards.”

Willy just shrugs. “Chocolate shouldn’t be deprived from anyone.” He dramatically looks around to see if anyone’s watching and leans in to whisper: “If you wanna see us in action, stop by the bridge tomorrow.”

My breath catches. “B- But I’m… me.”

“Yes. You are you. What’s wrong with that?” he asks.

“I’m the daughter of one of the men who are trying to run you out of town.”

“So? You’re not your father, Charlotte. Seems to me like you want to change the world with chocolate as much as I do.”

“Psst!”

We both look up to see a girl’s face peeking out of the top window. She’s the one Willy was flying with earlier!

“Willy! Come on! I’ve got the milk, now get up here so we can make the chocolate!”

“Right!” Willy turns back to me and tips his hat as he starts sneaking off to the back stairs. “Sorry to rush Charlotte but duty calls! See you tomorrow!”

And tomorrow can’t come soon enough!

[littlebisexualintern]

Leave Ross and TDE alone

So in light of everything that's been going on, I wanna say a couple things regarding the band's circle and the fandom.

First of all, y'all should leave Ross and Rocky alone, you don't know these people and just basically label them as 'paedophiles' when that's not even the correct legal term, whatever they do with their sex lives is none of your business. There's been an ongoing hate train against Ross since 2023 (the year I became a fan, almost 2 years in the fandom) and mostly it's because y'all can't imagine the idea of a former Disney star being a grown man doing adult things, man is a rockstar and groupies have always been a thing in the industry, does it make it okay? whatever your moral compass is, as for me, my stance is simple: As long as it's consensual between adults, whatever he does is none of my goddamn business, y'all need to touch some grass... however, I do have something to say about their manager who is an enabler of this type of lifestyle, and many fans have stated to feel uncomfortable around this manager, if you're in the TDE fandom, you know who I'm talking about.

As for the fandom, I think it's weird y'all invent a brand new girlfriend for Ross every month, we don't know the real nature of this thing between him and the girl who inspired 'Same Old Story' and I'm calling it a 'thing' because he never explicitly said it's an exclusive, monogamous relationship unlike his exes Jaz Sinclair and Courtney Eaton whom he claimed publicly ALL the time and reminded you he was happily in love with them (both ex-girlfriends loved/hated by his own fandom, I've seen the reception towards Courtney a lot better than Jaz but that's racism for ya). If he goes out on tour and meets a girl and probably ends up having sex with her, y'all are gonna remind him 'You have a girlfriend', you don't know him, you don't know his relationship dynamics and whatever arrangement he has with the people he dates so to slut shame him is actually fucking funny. Same with Rocky, even though his case is different because he has a pattern of certain behaviour with his ex-girlfriends and a big portion of the fandom is pissed at him, rightfully so.

I think it's funny how y'all judge other people's lives based on what you see on the internet, you don't know these people, and you don't know what they go through on a daily basis so please stop spreading misinformation that does not serve a purpose. TDE came into my life at a time I was in a really dark place and they brought me back to life after a shitty breakup, I'll always support their music because it makes me feel good, sexy and empowered, whatever they do with their sex lives is none of my business as long as they don't harm people and everything remains consensual between adults.

[artsy-book]

3, 8 and 24 for the ask game? :D

3. 3 films you could watch for the rest of your life and not get bored of?

okay one of them would have to be The Last Mimzy!! watched that movie on almost a daily basis when i was little and i could still do that now! that movie is so important to me :)

i think the second one would have to be The Last Unicorn! loved the animation in that movie growing up and i think i could literally watch that movie on loop for hours just admiring it!

and i think the third movie would have to be Spider-Man: Into The Spider Verse! the excitement i felt waiting to watch that movie and the joy and excitement that ran through me as i watched it for the first time are something i dont think i will ever forget!! the animation in that movie always leaves me feeling so inspired ^-^

8. any reacquiring dreams?

i cant think of any reacquiring dreams at the moment? when i was little (probably after watching a tornado movie tbh) i did have various dreams about being caught in some form of a tornado storm. and once had a dream that a t-rex was somehow running around in my house and i was hiding under my brothers bed as it went past his room and went upstairs. i have had some wacky dreams man lmao

24. what’s one thing you’re proud of yourself for?

one thing i am really proud of myself for is starting to like myself. for quite some time growing up i didnt really like the way i looked and i am so proud that i have been able to grow an appreciation for the parts of me that i previously didnt like. there are still things about myself that i dont like but i am so proud of the progress ive made and continue to make <33

ask game ^-^

[donnerpartyofone]

ACK I almost stepped on Jesus on my way home from church! Good thing I missed! Actually if I were writing a movie about persecuted Christians where someone tries to make them trample the cross and stuff, I'd have them say "Sure man, I'll trample the cross, I'll shit on the Bible. You think my God is trapped in there? That I step on him like a bug and he dies? Let's try it and find out!" as per the great thing they discuss in STIGMATA. STIGMATA is the one where Patricia Arquette stars as a sexy raver chick who gets possessed and then sexy priest Gabriel Byrne has to solve a religious mystery with her that changes the world. It's the best movie and you should definitely watch it.

LOVE the tag line on poster #2. Anyway one of the priests who is a main reason I've been going to this great church for a year gave a homily this morning about a piece of scripture I'd heard before, but not in this way. Jesus encounters a cripple at a healing spring in Bethesda and asks him, "Do you want to be made well?", and instead of saying "OH MY GOD YES OF COURSE MAKE ME WELL IMMEDIATELY," the guy starts complaining evasively about how he can never get into the water because everyone else is faster than him. Jesus heals the guy anyway and says "Pick up your mat and walk," and then the guy instantly gets in trouble with the authorities for carrying his mat around on the sabbath, and by extension Jesus is in trouble for working on the sabbath. The Bible usually sounds pretty antique to put it mildly, and therefore kind of alien and artificial, but when I heard that story today suddenly it was like "Oh shit, people really act like this right now. All the time." Somebody asks you what you want and you don't know how to say "I WANT THIS EXACT THING AND I'M READY TO GET IT," you might not even know precisely what you want, or you're just so used to making excuses and being passive aggressive and protecting yourself from disappointment and trying not to be inappropriate that you have no ability to be direct or speak from a place of self-knowledge. And then on the part of the Pharisees, they're so concerned with the litigation of their religion that they can't even see the miraculous evidence of God appearing right before their eyes, they're too blinded by their obsession with technicalities and the pre-fabricated template for divinity to notice that what they would ultimately want is happening now. It doesn't appear in the way they expect it to, so they don't even see it. Modern people are exactly like this. You encounter all these behaviors on a daily basis if you interact with other people at all.

I love this priest and at least one other guy who is really surprising and inspired, enough that I've been going there for a year of my life. But I sometimes feel like I'm leading them on. I love gay people and abortions too much to formally convert, among other reasons. But I also realize that religion is about emotion. You're supposed to love God more even than you concern yourself with his factuality. For me religion is a bit too much of an intellectual exercise. I'm curious about the mechanics of belief, how it rewards people, what kinds of changes it manifests, what it is as a psychological phenomenon. And more abstractly I'm interested in how people seek encounters with the numinous, how they explore deeper meaning through the lens of symbol and allegory. I'm interested in the collective unconscious. Almost my whole life is more of an intellectual exercise than an emotional one, maybe I'm fundamentally not wired to be a religious person. But I do love this church and I love the people in it, and I think it's a net positive for us to get to know a kind of person/people who you don't normally encounter, and get the chance to be kind and curious toward them. Everyone is always welcoming to me even if it seems like they wouldn't like me personally and I find that moving, I embrace the chance to return the favor. I embrace them even though I know they will never watch STIGMATA with me.

[bullet-prooflove]

Hope you don't mind a little curiosity...

I saw you don't write OCs that are a character's friend/sister/daughter and just wondered why not? Is it just not something you vibe with or feel inspired by? And does that just extend to your writing or do you avoid reading fics that involve those sorts of OCs as well?

I just ask cos that style of OC is almost always the first type of fic I look for when looking for character/OC fics, so I thought it'd be interesting to hear a (maybe) opposing view.

Hope this is ok! ♥️

(Sorry if this has been asked and answered before)

Hi,

I don’t mind answering the question but in all honestly you’re probably not going to like the answer esp if you’re a fan of the trope.

I find them creatively stifling because people always want them to go one way and it’s always the same way which is boring. The person is usually introduced to the group, the MC falls in love and everyone else adores her too, OC says she’s a grown woman but they have to keep it a secret, eventually they’re found out and everything is ok. It always becomes the main focus and basis for the relationship so we’re not learning about two people falling in love, (which is what I like) it’s about oh we need to keep it a secret from…

I also find them incredibly unrealistic and childish. I come from a family of 5 brothers, all our friends were intermingled because of the way our age ranges fell. There was never that much drama over dating friends and stuff, every one made they’re own choices and mostly it was respected. It feels like it’s unnecessary drama for the sake of it. Like my brothers did not give a shit who I dated so long as I was safe and vice versa, even if they did who gives a shit it’s not their business. My parents were similar. They may not of liked some of my bfs but they would never have stopped me from dating them. (They absolutely adore my husband and would very much adopt him if we divorce)

The fics I’ve read like this (and I read so many when I first came to the fandom because I devoured EVERYTHING for my fav characters) are usually not every well written and are very OOC. The dialogue and the drama is childish and unrealistic and the voices completely out of character. It’s usually terms like Daddyyyyyyy but I love him, you don’t control me. And Daddy’s usually like sorry pumpkin, or while your still my daughter….  It’s very templated and generic. There are exceptions to this but not many in my experience. Also it comes off as very toxic masculinity to me as it’s always a man’s relative, a man being protective when the woman doesn’t need it. < It’s never addressed on a realistic level and all is forgiven, no one self reflects or deals with the issue.

I think to me as a writing coach and editor, and also from my own experience the trope is usually a stepping stone for developing writers as they learn how to develop characters. It’s usually because the writer doesn’t know how to put their OC into the characters life any other way and it’s the quickest way of doing it without giving any thought to personality, backstory, individuality – they are essentially an extension of their family member. It’s a great learning curve but I work with writers like this on a daily basis when I’m reading for enjoyment I want to read something that’s far more polished. I’m a very character driven reader and writer, I like complicated character driven stories. The stories usually in that trope don’t play at that level because the writers aren’t there yet and that’s ok! Everyone’s learning.

It can also be an example of lazy writing. People who don’t develop their work any further than this because they’re chasing kudos and don’t feel the need to because they’re all about those likes.

Either way I prefer much more polished work by people who have taken the time to develop their craft because to me I get more from it. There’s much more richness and depth in the writing and they cover more adult, realistic topics. To me there’s a lot more important shit going on in my life and in the world than giving a shit about who is dating one of my brothers and I think most RL adults feel like that too.

On the opposite side of that I do understand the need for escapism and why this trope appeals, it’s just not my cup of tea.

[frannyzooey]

do you have any advice for overcoming writer’s block?

Oh man, it sucks. It sucks.

It's such a tangible frustration to feel the words inside your head just wanting to come out, but they can't. I have been there many times and it's rage inducing, for sure.

What (usually) works for me is a combination of things:

Accept that you have writer's block. Accept it, embrace it, let the thought be in your head. The more you think about it and the more pressure you put on yourself, the worse it gets.

Rest! Your brain is more likely than not overloaded from everything that you have to deal with on a daily basis, so let that brain of yours take a break. ❤

Trying consuming other media not only for inspiration, but also for fun: listen to your favorite playlists, take long showers or drives while doing so, watch movies and TV, and read. READ, by god. More often than not, I feel like when I've hit a block it's almost like my brain has ran out of....words? And it helps tremendously to soak up more words. Cram your head full of them, read for enjoyment, take note of styles you like, etc. Reading inspires me every time.

Try writing it bad. I know this is hard for a lot of people depending on what your writing style is like, but when I get like this, I force myself to write it bad. Change the font in your doc (it works, I swear) and just write garbage. Make a bullet point list outline. Write only the dialogue. Wax poetic about the motivations of your characters. Write only the actions. Write only the internal monologue. Write the main themes of the story. Write shit like "and then he sat down to order dinner and he chose a plate of spaghetti even though he hated it but it was the only thing he could safely pronounce on the menu" etc. Whenever I am well and truly stuck, I force myself to write it in the most simplistic way possible, and that usually triggers some kind of inspiration.

I hope this helps! I know writing can be a means of escape and fun, and when you have it inexplicably taken away from you, it can be very, very frustrating. I'm here for you, if you ever wanna chat more!

[fyeahdprian]

Interview Vogue HK

CELEBRITY 9 MAY 2023

DPR Ian On Music, Inspiration And His First Performance In Hong Kong 

The only way this Australian musician is headed is up

by KAY TSE

DPR Ian has captured the hearts of fans across the globe with his avant-garde music and enigmatic style. Co-founder of his label DREAM PERFECT REGIME (DPR), he took part in producing the soundtrack for the Marvel Film Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings and recently flaunted his musical talents at Coachella. Together with DPR Live, he took the stage at the outdoor music festival “Viva Paradise: After the Apocalypse”, which marked his first performance in Hong Kong. In an exclusive with Vogue Man Hong Kong, DPR Ian talks about what inspires him and his experiences in our city. 

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How does it feel to perform in Hong Kong for the first time?

It feels amazing! I always wanted to perform in Hong Kong. I grew up in Australia, and my best friend is from Hong Kong. He took me to a lot of Hong Kong restaurants to eat, so I knew a lot about Hong Kong and always wanted to come. 

As for my first time performing here — I didn’t know there were that many supporters in Hong Kong, so it was really surprising when I went on stage and saw the crowd screaming. It was lovely and very welcoming. I loved it. 

What do you want to try during your time in Hong Kong?

For me, Hong Kong is a very special place because it is one of the first places that I visited from Australia. I’ve always wanted to explore more, but I’m always on a tight schedule. So next time I come, I just want to explore by myself.

Having performed at Coachella earlier this year, you are stepping into the global limelight. How did it feel to receive this recognition from the audience? 

It was our first time ever performing on a world stage, and we just wanted to show everyone who we were. I heard that Coachella would be a tough crowd as not all your fans are going to be there, but we wanted to go into it with the attitude of “let’s show them everything”. 

It’s kind of like Hong Kong. We didn’t know what to expect, but when we went on stage, people loved it. 

What inspires you? 

I am inspired by everything. I love watching everything that happens to me on a daily basis. When I wake up, I like to go out and do something different. If I come to Hong Kong, for example, I would wake up, walk outside by myself and just look around while listening to music. When I go back to my studio, I picture somebody, like a character, and imagine a scene and put a story to it. 

Did anything about Hong Kong inspire you? 

I love the old films they make in Hong Kong. There is a very specific look that Hong Kong has, especially during the night —there is a neon-based, retro colour that only comes from Hong Kong. Buildings are almost post-apocalyptic, but it is so beautiful. There is a magic that is unique to Hong Kong. Hong Kong is two words: it is like a fever dream and it is also romantic. 

How would you describe your style? What are your favourite items?

It is very edgy. I love tattoos — I see myself as a canvas, and I love to paint on it. I also like instruments – guitar and bass – anything that is a medium for art is central to my identity. And motorbikes! 

Translated by Kaitlyn Lai

Photographer: Harrod To Interview: Kay Tse Venue: The Langham Hong Kong

Editor Kay Tse

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