#Beauty Wipes Factory

[bytebun]

.

[startears0153]

☾ Seeing you cry in your sleep

How they react to finding you crying silently in your sleep.

☾ Characters: Argenti, Blade, Dan Heng, Dr. Ratio

☾ Tags/Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, GN Reader, StellaronHunter!Reader in Blade's, Ratio (affectionately) calling you fool in his part

Might write a 2nd part with Gepard, Jing Yuan, Welt and Luocha (and maybe Sampo) in the future :)

Argenti

Upon entering your shared cottage, Argenti finds you sleeping on the chair by the window. They must’ve fallen asleep while admiring the scenery of the falling snow outside, Argenti thought with a fond smile. 

For a moment, Argenti found himself unable to move, for his emerald colored eyes were transfixed upon the serene beauty of the scene before him. The falling snow, the white winter wonderland serving as the perfect backdrop to accentuate the beauty of your resting figure.

Still, he realized it probably wouldn’t do well if you were to fall sick from the cold. So, he quietly made his way through the room and draped a blanket over your figure. 

That was when he noticed the presence of tears on the corners of your eyes. 

For a while, Argenti thought his eyes were deceiving him. It wasn’t until he saw a lone tear fall from your eye that he was finally hit by the fact that you were, indeed, crying in your sleep. 

His heart ached upon the sight and he instinctively reached to cup your cheek; his thumb gently caressing the corner of your eye, wiping away the stream of tears that began to fall like tender snow. 

After some deliberation on how to proceed, Argenti would kneel before your sleeping figure before carefully stirring you awake with a gentle squeeze to your hand and softly calling out your name. 

“Good morning my dear,” He would greet you with a tender smile, though you could easily sense the twinge of sadness and melancholia lingering in his voice. “I apologize if this may sound unpleasant to you but … you were crying in your sleep. Is … Is everything alright?” 

He would fret over you, but he would try to keep it to a minimum lest he were to accidentally do more harm than good. He was obviously worried about what ailed you, but again, what mattered most to him was your comfort. 

Regardless of whether you choose to speak of the reason for your tears, Argenti would remain by your side, kneeling before you as he held your hand in his. 

If he could, he would do anything in his power to vanquish the reason behind your tears. He never wants you to shed tears, neither in sleep or wake, ever again.

Blade

It was almost time for the opening act of Elio’s Script. Blade comes to searches for you in the meeting spot, and finds you asleep above one of the many wooden crates of the abandoned factory. 

How carefree, Blade thought with a scoff. Even so, Blade’s heart blossoms with warmth, that very same warmth that is born from his affection and adoration for you and all your silly antics. 

If he could, he would let you rest for longer and perhaps even join you in your restful slumber, resting your head on his shoulder. But alas, the Script takes priority and it was almost time to begin. 

So he reaches to shake your shoulder … but then froze upon the sight of tears falling from your eyes. 

Blade has never been one for tears. In a different life, perhaps, he would have been. But tears have no meaning for Blade. Crying does not provide one with salvation, no matter how much one cries, what was lost could never return. 

And yet, the sight of your tears shook him to his core. 

Blade didn’t know what to do. What could he do anyway? Reach for your face and wipe away your tears with his thumb? Lean towards you and kiss the corners of your eyes, all in hopes for your tears to stop cascading from your eyes? How ridiculous. As though that would solve any of your problems. 

So, he does what he is supposed to. Grab your shoulder and gently shake you awake. 

“Wake up. It’s almost time to begin.” He says brusquely, already turning around for his back to face you. “Wipe your tears. Don’t let the enemy see even a single hint of weakness.” 

You would be shocked upon realizing you were crying in your sleep and hurriedly wiped away the remains of your tears. Not soon after, you join him by the ledge of the building, watching over the city with puffy eyes. Blade would steal a glance at you and then he would say, 

“Do not be hasty. I am with you.”

You didn’t need to try hard to know that he wasn’t just talking about the battle ahead.

Dan Heng

The hour was late when Den Heng jolted awake from his sleep. He dreamt of a vague memory of his past incarnation and saw a nightmare where his friends were swept away by the waves; of you disappearing in the dark sea of clouds. 

Inhaling and exhaling slowly, Dan Heng takes a moment to recompose himself before shifting to rest on his side, thus meeting the familiar sight of your back. They’re here, Dan Heng thought to himself, breathing a quiet sigh of relief. It’s all just a dream. 

Not wanting to wake you, Dan Heng simply stares at your back. The steadiness of your breathing, a reminder that you are alive. Gingerly, Dan Heng reaches to subtly trace soothing lines on your back. Truth be told, it was probably more soothing for him than you. 

Then suddenly, there was a slight change in the pattern of your breathing. More feeble and erratic. Concerned that he might have woken you up, Dan Heng pushed himself up to check on your condition … 

… Only to find you crying in your sleep. 

Upon the sight of your tears, falling so steadily onto the fabric of your already damp pillow, Dan Heng’s breath hitches. He shakes your shoulders, calling your name again and again until your eyes open and meet his pairs of jaded blue. 

“You’re crying.” He said bluntly, his brows furrowed as a tell-tale sign of his bleeding concern for you. “What? No, I’m fine. Yes, I woke up because of a nightmare but I’m more concerned for you.” 

The two of you would both end up sitting on the bed, both fretting over each other’s condition. You asked Dan Heng about his nightmare and he would reply that it was the usual. He asked you about your tears, and you replied you didn’t even know you were crying until Dan Heng pointed it out. 

In the end, the both of you would end up embracing each other tightly, providing both comfort and strength to one another. You both wind up laying on the bed in each other’s arms. 

Dan Heng would stay awake for a while after you’ve fallen asleep, gazing at your resting figure in hopes that he would never have to see you cry in your sleep once more.  

Dr. Ratio

After a long day full of shameful displays of stupidity from the people around him, Dr. Veritas Ratio was done for the day and is free to visit his beloved. I cannot wait to see them, Ratio thought as he made large strides towards your office. It has been far too long since I’ve had an intellectually stimulating conversation!

He thinks of all the topics he could talk with you, ranging from the most mundane things such as how each other’s days went and the more complex like the discourse regarding a recent hot theory. 

Imagine his disappointment when he enters your office and finds you dead asleep on your desk. 

Frowning, Ratio rationalizes that you were probably just as exhausted as he was and that there were plenty of chances for conversation when the two of you have rested up. Still. He was disappointed. 

He walked towards your desk and took a moment to observe your resting figure. You were sleeping above your paper reports. Now that’s a lark. But then, he noticed something else. 

Your papers were soaked, all from the tears that were still cascading from your eyes. 

Upon the sight of your tears, Ratio’s heart seemingly ceased to beat. There was shock, confusion, concern and all these strong emotions that meld with one another. In a rare moment of panic, Ratio shook you awake, forcing you away from your stained papers. 

“You fool, just what do you think you’re doing?!” He shouts, worry bleeding through his tone. “Don’t ‘What the hell, Veritas’ me! You’re the one crying on your reports and making them unreadable!” 

You would be confused until you realize that you were crying in your sleep. You touched the lingering wetness on your cheeks and laughed feebly. It was probably the pent up stress, you offered weakly, annoying Ratio once more. 

You expect a lecture, but unexpectedly, Ratio places hand behind your head, brings you to rest against his broad shoulder. 

“You are a fool for ruining those reports. If you must cry … cry on my shoulder instead.” 

It was a silly attempt at cheering you up, but you appreciated it all the same. 

Hehe this was a super fun prompt to write! Might write a second part with Gepard, Jing Yuan, Welt and Luocha when I feel the inspiration hitting me 👀

Also still semi-working on banners ... sigh, lets hope I find a good theme soon enough.

Thank you for reading 💖

[kteezy997]

The Candy Man-Part Ten (the end)//W.W.

Info/Warnings: Wonka family fluff, smut at the end, calling cum “cream,” another baby making session hehe, licking chocolate off of the body, use of ice for sex play

A/N: This is kinda long, grab a snack maybe.

The third Wonka baby, a little boy, was named Cotton, as in cotton candy. Willy couldn’t name his children after anything other than candy. You had to actively stop him from giving your child the name “Chocolate.” But Cotton was cute, and sweet just like his older siblings, Maple and Mocha.

Willy told you he liked the name ‘Cherry’ for when you had another girl together. You thought it was bold of him to assume that you’d continue having more of his children. You loved him, but hated him for always being right.

After your new son was born, it was finally time for you to become Mrs. Wonka. It was your wedding day. All of the original scrubbers happily helped you and Willy orchestrate the most beautiful wedding.

It was all traditional white ribbons and touches of cotton candy pink. Your bridal bouquet was two shades of pink roses with the tiny white flowers of baby's breath.

You thought it would be a little silly for you to wear a white dress, since this was your second, and albeit, last wedding, and Willy had made you a mother three times over. Thus, you decided on an adorable blush pink gown that was satin and chenille to the floor.

Willy looked handsome as ever, as you had helped fix his curls to lay in beautiful heap on his head. You were used to working with the texture of his hair; two of you children had the same curls, and though you knew baby Cotton would most likely have the same also, he was too little to tell just yet.

Daddy Wonka wore a dark brown suit, it was an homage to chocolate, but not too over the top, which you appreciated. You thought the rich color looked quite nice on your man. He wore a boutonniere that matched your flowers. He cried as you recited your wedding vows. He was so soft, but you knew how happy he was. He had come a long way. And before you knew it, he was wiping your tears away too.

.......

In time, your kids grew, and the success of the chocolate factory allowed your family to have a rather nice life. Willy was able to hire more workers and spend more time at home with you and the kids. You and Willy would spend the workday at the factory, with you mostly in your office and Willy overseeing the candy making. And then you'd spent the latter portion of the day with the kids.

Maple and Mocha remained playful and curious, like their father. Willy would play with them in the chocolate room and let them try out new flavors he was creating. But little Cotton was more on the reserved, quiet side. He liked hanging out with you in your office. He was good with numbers and figuring, and he had a knack for solving problems, even at an early age.

All three kids got along and played well together, for the most part. They would fuss and fight now and then, like all siblings. But while the twins ran around and picked fights with each other, Cott liked to climb up into his Daddy's lap and ask him about his Grandma Wonka and how Willy remembered making chocolate bars with her. The first Wonka chocolate.

"And she would be so proud of you and your brother and sister." Willy would say to his youngest baby after looking back fondly and telling him the stories of his childhood with his mother.

You hoped you'd never forget the nights when Willy would hold little Cotton in his arms, singing "Pure Imagination" so softly, so angelically. And your sweet baby would fight the sleep that called him, but alas, his green eyes would flutter behind long lashes, and little curls would fall onto his sleepy face as his father's voice would lull him into slumber.

Willy's zest for creativity was passed to on Mae, who would spend her childhood using crayons to create designs for her Dad's candy ideas, all the way down to the style of the packaging. Her eye for color was impeccable. She never lost her sweetness, but she did develop an edge for the dramatic. Neither Willy nor you could complain about her over-the-top flair, because she was responsible for a lot of Wonka's eye-catching, and best-selling product designs.

Her twin brother was also like their father, in his love for the experimental side of the candy making. Mocha loved thinking up flavor combinations and bringing those ideas to fruition alongside Willy in the factory. There were many times where the young boy and his father would come home in need of sparkling soda to ease their stomach aches from eating too much sugar and mixing some of the wrong ingredients together.

Little Cott, however, seemed to inherit your mind for business. He loved his Daddy, of course, but he stuck to you quite often. He was always a serious, yet thoughtful child. He was a sensitive boy, and though he wasn't as into the candy making process like his artistic siblings, he was just as sweet and loving as they were. You had to admit, it was nice having your Cotton as a constant companion, as your older two kids were their father's little shadows.

As for you and Willy, things never changed, if they did it was your love growing stronger and deeper with every moment you got to spend together.

Nights of returning to the factory to visit the secret chamber never ceased. Anytime you and Willy wanted to be together and unwind, or let all of your fantasies come to light, you called one of your friends or your parents to babysit and made your way back to the chocolate factory.

Now, you could still have intimate nights at home, but three kids made it difficult at times. And in your private room, no one would ever bother you or be disturbed by anything that happened in there.

........

"Can we have another baby? I think the time is right." Willy asked you one evening after dinner. The kids were occupied with whatever game they were playing amongst the three of them.

You were surprised at his question; it was the first time you'd discussed the idea with seriousness in a long time. "You aren't happy with three kids?"

"Of course, I am, honey. That's not why. I know that you wanted to wait awhile, and the twins are almost seven and Cotton is five. I want to have just one more experience raising a baby." he took your hands, "Please, my love? Just one more, that's it. One more sweet little one, it makes me happy, creating a human that's half of you." he caressed your face, looking at you with puppy eyes. The eyes you could not say 'no' to.

"You're right. And you've been very patient, Willy. I love that you've let me take my time on deciding. My answer now is yes." you smiled, squeezing your husband's hands.

Willy grinned widley, "Really? We can?!"

"Yes, let's have another baby!"

Willy cheered and picked you up in his arms, spinning you around. "Oh honey, I'm so happy right now! I love you, y/n."

You hugged him tightly, "I love you too, Willy."

"What are you two so excited about?" quipped Maple, showing a little sass at the ripe age of nearly six and a half.

"Nothing for you to be concerned about, young lady." you responded. You didn't want to spill any beans and get the kids excited for something that hadn't happened yet. "Now, go on upstairs, it's almost time for baths."

"Ugh, I don't want to take a bath tonight." your daughter grumbled.

"Maple Wonka, don't you sass your mother, now do as she says." Willy demanded, using his stern Dad voice.

Mae rolled her eyes, "Fine." she huffed. She, along with her brothers, made their way upstairs.

As you watched them go, Willy put his arms around you from behind, and kissed your cheek.

You put your arms on his and rested your head back against him, "Mae is going to be the one to give us a run for our money." you sighed.

"Oh, it's going to be okay. She's strong, like you, but it's not a problem."

"Hmm." you put your hand in his curls, "I hope you're right."

"I'll go make sure bath time goes smoothly." he kissed your temple, parting from your embrace, "And you can think up a time for us to start making a baby."

As he started walking away, you said, "What about tomorrow night? At the factory?"

He pivoted on his heel and his eyes were wide when he caught your gaze, "Oh, that soon? Honey, I'm so excited." he said, running over to kiss your lips as you giggled.

............

The next night, Willy tied you to the bed, and had poured warm chocolate all over your nude body. He teased you with his tongue, swirling over your hard nipples, trailing down your tummy, dipping into your navel, and slipping down between your legs as he lapped up every trace of the chocolate.

He got you all worked up, sweaty, and dripping wet. Your body ached and writhed in anticipation.

He came back over to the bed with a medium sized metal bucket in his hands. "Some ice." he announced, "In case the chocolate was too warm for you."

You nodded, and he went ahead, placing a cube of ice on your lips first. You couldn't help but lick the ice as it was near your mouth, and you gave his fingers a tiny nibble as well.

He ran the ice from collarbone to collarbone, then downwards, over your nipples, making you gasp.

Willy smirked at the effect the ice was having on your body.

You held your breath as he dragged the ice down your stomach, your ribcage inflating as you held your breath. As you let out your breath, your back arched as you felt the ice on your clit, melting and dripping between your folds. Your skin was on fire, and the ice was a shock. It was almost too much. Your man had a wicked imagination.

The ice was taken away, "Feel alright, y/n?" he asked, still being your sweet Willy at this point.

"Yes." you said, weakly.

"Excellent." he said, setting the bucket of ice down. Then, he leaned down close to your ear, "Now, I'm ready to breed you." Dominant Willy had arrived. You could barely contain your excitement as he untied your wrists and ankles.

You lay on the bed as patiently as you could, and he climbed on top of you. He took your legs, propping them all the way up on his shoulders. You whimpered, as he made eye contact with you. You feet hung up on either side of his head. With a little thrust of his hips, he was inside of you.

You'd been making love to Willy for years now, sex in every sense of the word, a deep, trusting sexual relationship that you never imagined you'd have, and still, each time was like the first. You looked back to the time you took his virginity on the bear skin rug that you so despised. You fell in love right then. You knew he was special from the beginning.

"Are you gonna make me a Daddy again, my sweet?" he asked, thrusting softly, pushing his curls back as he looked down at you.

"Yes, baby. Give me that Wonka baby cream, please." you whined.

Willy dipped down, kissing you hard and he quickened his pace, "I'll give it to you.”

Your husband kissed you repeatedly, and kneaded your hips as he rammed you. You knew as his thrusts became sloppy and his breath ragged, he was close to coming. He put his forehead on yours, letting his sweat and your mix together.

You ran your hands over his strong back, his arms, then held his handsome face, “I love you, Willy Wonka, I want your baby.” you cooed.

“Oh, I love you.” he huffed, “You should be pregnant before the night is over, Mrs. Wonka." You felt his cum invade you shortly after.

Who would have thought that the innocent chocolate salesman would be saying that to the housewife he met by chance almost seven years prior?

Willy Wonka, as you knew, was never wrong, and your fourth and final child came into the world nine months, to the day, later. Cherry Wonka. She completed your beautiful family. She was the class clown of the bunch, spirited and wild as could be, with bouncing curls and a deviously cute grin. She kept you and Willy on your toes constantly, and you adored her.

A/N: Special thank you to my beta, @gatoenlaciudad ! You’ve been such an inspiration and great support throughout this series!💕

@thebetawolfgirl @musicandbooksaremyhappyplace @tchalamss @softhecreator @bitchyunknownuser @lixzey @kpopgirlbtssvt

[schumachersnightmare]

Could you do one for Fernando Alonso with wife reader where she catch him doing one of the Tiktok's video (the one where he's spinning in front of the microwave🤭) and she tease him about it. And he accidently posted it with her reaction of him doing it and the Internet went wild! I don't know if it make sense. Add something you'd like though. Thanks!!

Ahh I absolutely love this request!! I love that tiktok so much. I'm such a softy for Fernando I had to write this one first. Hope you like it!

OG tiktok

BTS tiktok

Word count: 650+

Warnings: None just pure fluff

The season has yet to begun but everyone was at the factory in full swing. Fernando was called in to start his usual preseason requirements, seat fit, simulator, briefings, and of course media duties.

“Just a little more carino, then we can leave.” Fernando said as he pressed a kiss to your cheek before being pulled away by Jimmy, the social media manager. Lance always seemed to disappear whenever the camera came out, leaving Fernando to fill in the gaps.

Your stomach growled. Lunch had been a few hours ago and Fernando was nowhere in sight. You walked over to the break room hoping to grab a light snack to hold you over until Fernando was done and the two of you could get dinner.

You pushed the door open and froze.

Your lips tightened together as you tried to contain the laughter building inside you. Little squeaks escaped as you tried your best to just walk around over to the fridge. Your cheeks turning bright red as you watched the scene in front of you unfold.

Your husband had no idea you had even entered the break room. Fernando was focused on making the tiktok. His phone sat in the microwave as he crouched down and slowly spun in a circle.

As soon as he stood up, he was surprised by the eruption of laughter. Fernando turned around towards the fridge where his wife was bent over in hysterics, one hand holding onto the fridge for support.

“It's funny, no?” Fernando asked, thinking you were laughing at his tiktok and not the behind the scenes view you had. “Jimmy and I thought of it together! It's good, no?” He asked as he walked over and slid his arm around your waist, pulling you against his chest. His hand danced up and down your side as your face pressed into his shoulder as you tried to calm yourself down, tears spilling onto his shirt.

“It's funny, Nando, it really is.” you wheezed as you wiped the tears from your eyes. Your lips pressed against the scruffy facial hair on his cheek before you stood up properly. “It's great, I think you captured the essences of pizza rolls perfectly.” You teased him and he rolled his eyes at you before his fingers attacked you, tickling your sides in retaliation.

The rest of the day continued as usual. Fernando and you shared dinner together before cuddling up in bed for the night. Your head rested on his shoulder as you scrolled through social media. That's when the Aston Martin account popped up on your tiktok. The video was pretty funny you had to admit. Fernando peaked over to take a look to see what you were giggling at. A smile grew across his face as he watched his beautiful wife giggling in his arms watching his tiktok. Giggles continued to spill from your lips as you went through the comments.

User1: old man has really lost it this time

User2: No! Don't microwave us!

User3: is that y/n in the background?

User4: yea she's in the behind the scenes

User5: Let! Him! Cook!

Behind the scenes? You didn't remember any behind the scenes video being shot. You clicked on the profile and scrolled until it popped up. Sure enough, there you were looking like a tomato trying to not laugh at your man-child husband before completely breaking down when he finished filming.

“Nando!” You yelped as you lightly slapped his chest and shoved your phone in his face. He chuckled as he looked at it and the comments. All the comments on the behind the scenes video were about you and your slow descent into hysterics. Everyone online was obsessing over you and your relationship with your husband. There were dozens of not hundreds of comments talking about how cute you two were together.

“I might have to give up my tiktoker of the year award.” He teased as he brushed the hair out of your bright red face.

~-~

Let me know if there's anything I could improve on formatting wise, normally I double space when I write in my editor but to me it looks like a lot between paragraphs on here, however if you prefer it let me know. Thanks!

[writers-potion]

Using Description and Setting Meaningfully

The setting, and a writer's description of it, is an essential part of any story. A good writer would use that setting for more than just a place for things to happen.

Use setting to emphasize other aspects of the story, such as:

Magnify the theme

Convey the general mood

Enlarge conflict

Magnifying Some Theme Through Description

Here's the thing about theme: modern readers aren't looking to be reformed. They wish to be entertained.

So, let description carry the burden of conveying the theme rather than you having to say it!

Side note: Theme is NOT a few haughty ideas you learn in lit class (like pride, beauty, everlasting love) but anything that you are trying to convey in a particular scene (like, trying to get a date). You can have several themes instead of one lofty philiosophical theme. That's fine.

The key here is to pick and choose the kind of details that contributes to the theme. A few examples:

Theme = oppression and manipulation of workers.

Aim = highlight deariness and tension

Setting: a break room in a factory

Details: slow ticking of a clock, raspy gurgling of a coffeemaker, completely utilitarian carpet and walls

Theme = teenager scheming a scam that his father already knows about

Aim = establish stealthy tension

Setting: the breakfast table

Details: toaster loudly launching two slices of bread at exactly the same moment that the teenager realizes his plan is ruined, catlike movements of the "stealthy"teen

Theme = a character's life is about to be transformed

Aim = show that change is imminent

Setting = train platform

Details: the darkness falling, colors of distant hills and the sky changining, the last train rolling in, workers happliy switching from "work mode" to "weekend mood" as the character waits for his train

Conveying Mood and Tone

The mood of a character determines how the story progresses.

If your main character is depressed, the plot will crawl on and take on a brooding, ominous tone. If he is determined, passionate and happy, the plot will speed up into loud, blowing action.

Often, the prevailing mood doesn't come from the character, but from the setting itself.

Again, let's explain by example:

Mood = Gloomy, baleful

Details: Sulphurous smoke, thick fog, horses' hoofs on cobbled streets, vendor's cries, unseen organ creaking out a sinister tune, sounds being muffled

Word choice is important. If you're conveying gloom, using strong verbs like creak, screech and adjectives like sinister and eerie.

Use sensory description: visual, auditory, tactile, olfactory and gustatory.

Another way is to describe simple actions:

Mood = irritation, aggression

Details: mashing the end of a cigarette in his plate, one draught of the coffee in his cup, wiping lips with his napkin - crumpling and dropping in on the table, standing up from the table, staring at the other person.

Mood = Giddiness

Details: flicking water from his glass on a lunch companion, twisting his napkin, playing with food without eating

Once you've established a prevailing mood, you've pretty much set the course of your story. No reader will expect the main character to party all night with loud rock music after a sinister description of his way back home.

Enlarging Conflict

Think of the things or actions that will eventually build up to the main conflict. Then, choose a setting that will naturally bring out such an action/ though from the characters in it.

Conflict = Woman hasn't spoken to her son for a decade and now, she has to confront him

Setting: House where she raised her son, among things that he hasn't seen in all that time, working bits of backstory into objects in the house (tie in a sofa, picture on the wall), mannerisms of the characters as they greet each other at the door.

Allow the setting to provide the little sparks that will blow up eventually. This way, you can effectively cut out that slow middle and jump into action without much effort.

Description is a matter of wordsmithing, of selecting preciosuly the right words to create certain meanings. Make every word and sentence count.

If you like my blog, buy me a coffee☕ and find me on instagram! 📸

[lauralot89]

Unapologetic Assholes and the Fans Who Love Them

(It's me, I'm the fans, it's me.)

Every child has a character they want to be when they're growing up. Whether it's because they love the character itself (Han Solo is the greatest) or because they want to be part of the character's world (who doesn't want to be a mermaid?), there's always some fictional person a kid would swap lives with in a heartbeat.

For me as a child, that character was Veruca Salt.

Now, Veruca Salt is a spoiled brat. She is THE spoiled brat. She has no redeeming qualities and if I ever met her in real life I wouldn't last five minutes without punching her in the teeth.

But I'd have given anything to be her.

Growing up autistic is growing up being wrong. You talk wrong, you laugh wrong, you interact with your peers wrong. You play wrong. Your interests are wrong and so is the way you talk about them. The things that upset you are irrational and insignificant and wrong. The bullying that other kids do to you isn't really bullying, you're just reacting wrong.

Everything about you and how you experience the world is wrong, and you need to get over it.

I couldn't even breathe without an adult jumping down my throat for how I did it, and I was undiagnosed, so I had no idea that there were others like me and I wasn't just some aberrant freak alone in the world.

But then there was Veruca Salt.

Veruca was never wrong. Even when she clearly was. Even when Veruca demanded the impossible, those around her bent over backwards to achieve it and fell over themselves apologizing when they couldn't. Veruca never apologized. Veruca always got what she wanted. She was like a cruel and angry god who only met her fate because she crossed paths with another god who was even more powerful.

And in the Oompa Loompas' song after she fell down the garbage chute, they didn't even blame her for her horrible behavior, by far the worst of any child in the factory. Even when she lost, she won.

I would have given anything to be Veruca, even if only for a day. To express myself without fear and without regard for everyone I was inconveniencing by being abnormal. The rush of that power would have easily carried me for the rest of my life.

And then I grew up, and there was Carla Rutten.

Carla is not only the greatest character in @itswalky's magnum opus, Dumbing of Age, she is also arguably the greatest character in the history of fiction.

Carla is a student at Indiana University. She's transgender and asexual, and in the hands of lesser writers this might lead to temptation to portray her as perfectly kind and moral and inoffensive, lest she be viewed as a negative stereotype.

Instead, Carla is loud, demanding, self-obsessed, and perfect in every way.

Carla refuses to reign herself in, even if it brings further bigotry and anger her way. She won't hold herself to a different standard than any other jackass.

And in the end, even if you hate her, even if you want her wiped from the face of the earth, that's still acknowledging her. And she's still won.

As an asexual ginger Hoosier I cannot even begin to express what Carla means to me and how thankful I am for her existence. There aren't words for how great it is that a character like this exists and is just allowed to be. Allowed to be as flawed and rude and funny and spoiled as anybody else.

More ladies need to be unrepentant self-absorbed jerks. It's a beautiful thing.

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Good afternoon! Can I request a fic with Claude Frollo x an albino!Fem!reader who is a very strict and prim aristocrat whom Frollo is madly in love with and is trying to win her over? thank you in advance!

My pale star

warning : kinda fluff, kiss, tiny comfort, implied obsession

Info : OMG I loveeee the concept of your request dear anon and the albino reader I had already an idea on what I want the outfit to look like. I really hope you like it and have fun reading ;)

cover by me

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When the bells rang for morning mass, the metal clashed and the rich and poor rushed to the church to cleanse themselves of their sins, she was among the masses.

He had always seen her, his white flower, his star that stood out from the crowd and that he could only see at night when she shone so beautifully.

He himself on his horse, which rode like a shadow through the streets of Paris, made his way to the church, always sending his carriage. Snowball knew he had to gallop quickly to get there before the people arrived and the judge arrived.

He got off his horse in front of the wooden door and got there a minute before she did. In his hand was the mass-produced ring, which he put back into the kelien casket when he saw the carriage arrive from the dark wood.

The horses white as the clouds overhead, white as the moon and the stars, white and pale as his favorite. His darling, his love, she had him completely under her spell.

It had been like a witch ever since he had seen her when she had lifted her veil to wipe away the tears that seemed to be in her eyes like the stars ever since he had looked under the clothes of the fine veil it had been true for him she was the most beautiful thing on this planet, free from sin and taking him with her.

All she had to do was return his love and it would be perfect. Watching as the Kutcher brought the horses to a halt and the diner jumped from the back of the carriage and opened the door, the first thing he saw was her white gloves.

He had only ever seen the light-colored fabric except for one day, but it only added to her extraordinary beauty. The white dress with the reddish ruffles embroidered by hand.

The long sleeves and slippers and on her head the veil under the white hood which only gave a hint of what her hair might look like. ,,Greetings this morning, my lady, may the Lord have mercy on your soul," he greeted her as he dismounted his horse and walked over to her, luiefe saw that she only looked at him with her eyes and held her head high.

She was an aristocrat, her father owned several plantations and textile weavers, her mother died in childbirth and she was the only child who could dispose of her own money as she wished.

,,God bless you judge and this city" she said something for the first time one morning as she went to the statue of St. Mary and left him behind. Frollo knew breaking etiquette would be an insult to her and her family he had to do it differently he had to woo her.

His angel, his lovely star as he went to the rows of wood himself and said the prayer. But his eyes kept looking at her as she lowered her head, the veil covering her. But he had seen her pale reddish eyes under the embroidered fabric that hung over her face.

He wanted to understand what was "wrong" with her, that this sin was a punishment from God, which is why she always prayed. But what was sin to her was everything to him. He wanted her like the forbidden, desirable fruit of the apple tree.

The minutes passed, the sun rose over the city and the stained glass of the windows shone on her and he fell, looking at her in color instead of white.

He lit a candle, folded his hands, and felt the ring's box in the pocket of his robe before he watched her again as she slowly rose from her kneeling position, wiped the dust from her dress and walked to the exit.

Before the people came, the people of the normal lower population. ,,My lady please wait I have heard of the good news of your lord father's factory" he began and was pleased to see her pause and wait for him.

Her hands folded in front of her dress, she watched him as best he could see under the veil. ,,I had taken the liberty of contacting him...and asked for an invitation to hear your playing your harp," he explained, knowing that she played her harp in her family circles and among her closest confidants.

He couldn't quite tell if it was indignation or exasperation that flashed in her eyes as she stood to resume her posture as an aristocrat.

,,My lord father will make a decision in your favor, I presume. Please, if it is convenient for you Judge Frollo, come to my estate and I will play for you," she replied and was about to turn away from him when he brought a ,,Wait please" after her, she paused turning her head slightly and shaking her shoulders as he handed her the casket.

,,A gift as a token of my gratitude for your generosity," he said, smiling gently as her fingers brushed over her gloves, feeling her warmth for a moment before she tucked the small box into her long sleeves.

,,That...that's very kind of you Lord Frollo, thank you" she said quietly not full of conviction more like she was embarrassed as if this fire in him had caught her for a moment.

,,Please, for such a beautiful flower, it's the least you can do," he said as a matter of course and bowed slightly as she curtseyed and stepped out of the church first, the sun flashing as the wood was opened and disappearing again as it closed.

But Frollo stayed behind, knowing that he was one step closer to her heart, she was open, he had seen it, had felt its lovely warmth and fire. There was only one last thing to do that night and she would be his.

The evening couldn't come soon enough for him. The sun was slowly setting, bathing the city in gold, but he knew that once he visited her and listened to the sound of her harp, it was only a matter of time before he would use the ring he had given her.

Her apartment, though a little smaller than his own, was lined with magnificent stone, wood and statues, the entrance lined with pictures and books, and Frollo knew he would find her in the music room.

Knew as he walked through the front door that he would hear the sound of her unnaturally pale hands wiping the pages. Her singing soft and beguiling he felt his heart beat faster. He wanted her.

He wanted her when he saw that she had taken off her veil, her fingers were not covered by gloves and he saw the silver ring with a moonstone on it. ,,You're more beautiful than any star out there in the sky," he had flattered her for a moment, watching her stop crying as she turned her head away, not yet wanting to believe his words.

,,Please my lord enjoy the play...if my appearance disturbed you the Judge I can cover myself too" she said quietly almost whispering as if she was afraid that someone would hear them both. But he only shook his head in confusion as she stopped playing, rose from her seat and came to him.

,,Your look my pretty pale flower quite the opposite it's a pleasure to see you every day" he said and let his fingers run over her ring on her finger saw how she moved back to avoid the contact almost shco was too close.

But only almost, as it was true in the Bible Eve would give in to temptation and Adam would still love her more than anything. ,,Your body is my personal carnal pleasure...you are the most beautiful thing on this earth my love" he purred and his other hand brushed a white loose strand of hair behind her ear of her elaborate hairstyle.

He saw the shame in her reddish eyes at his words, but it was the shame that made her cheeks slightly flushed. ,,You-You don't know what you're saying, Frollo," she murmured, lowering her gaze to her dress, her fingers nervously playing with one of the bows.

But when he told her to look at him again, overcoming the last few moments between them, he felt it. He finally felt her warmth on his lips as he kissed her softly, holding her body gently with his hands.

Knowing that he had committed a sin for the first time but seeing that beautiful look of love in her face as she did not break away from him, her hands remained around his and something like devotion flashed in her eyes, the judge knew that his pale flower finally belonged to him forever until the last stars in the sky would fade away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@ria-coolgirl , @nunezs-stuff , @magmabayvi , @aliensthegreat

[vixensbrainrotts]

Masterlist — Vixen’s Brainrotts

▣ -- newest

✰ -- fan-favorite

🖇️-- Vixen recommends

TOKYO REVENGERS

> Character specific

Lipgloss Lover <KEN <DRAKEN> RYUGUJI> 🖇️ ✰

With you forever <SHINICHIRO SANO>

In another time <SHINICHIRO SANO>

Hello, stranger <SHINICHIRO SANO>

Wipe your tears away <SOUYA <ANGRY> KATAWA>

Rock your World <NAHOYA <SMILEY> KATAWA>

Lovestruck <NAHOYA <SMILEY> KATAWA> ▣

Healing slowly <MANJIRO <MIKEY> SANO>

Hit the Curb, Baby! <MANJIRO<MIKEY> SANO>

Committed to you <MANJIRO <MIKEY> SANO> ▣

-> part 2 ▣

The Kokonoi couple ™ <KOKONOI HAJIME>

Money Honey <KOKONOI HAJIME>

Ran fucked up <RAN HAITANI> ✰

Wicked lover <SANZU HARUCHIYO>

Same old, same old  <SANZU HARUCHIYO> 🖇

The price to pay <SANZU HARUCHIYO>

Young and Beautiful <HANMA SHUJI>

Made of Yarn and Butterflies <MITSUYA TAKASHI>

Aren't you jealous? <MITSUYA TAKASHI> 🖇️

Love prevails <CHIFUYU MATSUNO>

Opia <BAJI KEISUKE>

> Reactions & Scenarios 

Reacting to little kids wooing you ✰

Scenario: Food Baby

> Blurbs 

Uncle Inui

> Series 

THE INK FACTORY

A series about the ins and outs of the ‘Ink Factory’, your tattoo-hairdresser fusion shop. Many a curious souls wander into your shop looking for a tat, a cut, or perhaps just company?

(I) The one behind the mask

> Headcanons

VOLUME I

VOLUME II

[mgc02]

When Charlie is depressed, Vaggie holds her and sings her own version of "Cheer Up, Charlie" from "Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory". The rest of the staff have secretly witnessed this at one point or another, but never speak of it because they'll never admit that seeing the princess being sung to by her girlfriend made them cry.

I love my Chaggie requests. Sorry for how long this took. I gave that song a listen since its been so long since I seen that movie and it really fits Charlie and Vaggie well.

Angel

He just wanted to pull an innocent prank on the girls by releasing a toy mouse in their room but when he came to sneak in he stopped when he realized they were still in there. He attempted to wait it out until he heard the distinct sound of Charlie's muffled sobs. Vaggie sounded like she was trying to console her and it didn't seem to be working until she began to sing. The song was a bit familiar and Angel couldn't figure out why but it was very soft and sweet. And it sounded almost like a lullaby but with encouraging lyrics. The soft and loving lyrics coupled with Vaggie's voice made for one of the sweetest melodies he'd ever heard and when it was done he peeked through the cracks to see Charlie hugging her and thanking her. Angel wiped tears from his eyes and decided not to release the toy mouse. He'll just find some way to prank Husk instead

Husk

He had decided to find Charlie so he could discuss a different rooming situation. He was right next door to Alastor and he hated it. It was making him a bit grumpy and he was likely going to give her a hard time for it. But how could she room them right next each other?!? If he complained hard enough maybe she would...

His thought process stopped when he saw Charlie was crying sitting on the floor and Vaggie sat next to her. Vaggie started singing this beautiful tune that seemed to be written just for her. Charlie stopped crying and slowly relaxed her tensed up body before leaning into Vaggie's warm embrace. When the song was over it was far too a touching moment for him to interrupt. In fact, he didn't understand what he was so angry for. He'll just talk to her about it another time

Niffty

She had just finished alphabetizing the cleaning supplies and was itching for some more work so she attempted to find Charlie and ask. She zipped around the hotel but skidded to a stop to see Charlie sitting at a coffee table crying her eyes out. Suddenly Vaggie approached her noticing her distress. She asked Charlie what was wrong and Charlie explained how hard it was that they hadn’t received any new patrons since the extermination was canceled. Vaggie tried with little success to comfort her before resorting to singing to her

Niffty was entranced by this beautiful song and the sound of Vaggie's voice. It actually made her feel better and she was already feeling great. She decided she would go ask Alastor instead since the princess was now preoccupied with kissing Vaggie's lips

Alastor

Alastor was bored. And that would never do. He decided to go find someone to bother. Vaggie might be fun to pester with. He went in search of his next victim source of entertainment and perked up when he heard Vaggie's voice around the corner. But then he heard Charlie's cries and decided to listen in. He loved drama. But to his surprise Vaggie began to sing. He sent one of his shadows around the corner to be his eyes as he watched one of the most loathsome wholesome displays he'd ever seen.

Vaggie was singing some sweet lullaby meant to make Charlie feel better and it seemed to be working. Vaggie's voice was wonderful but the sentiment grossed him out. Not as much as he expected it to though.

When it was finished he opted to leave them alone. He couldn't stand such a waste of time this was... because it definitely didn't pull at his heart strings. Nope, no way.

[myfandomprompts]

𝐆𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐑𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐭 | 𝐓𝐨𝐦 𝐁𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐭 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝟕)

Summary: Close to the line, you have to find a way on the other side. The time where you and Tom will have to part approaches.

Previous Part - Masterlist

Warnings: none.

French spoken -> italics

Tom clutched his jacket around his shoulders, forced to notice that summer nights in France were as unforgiving as they were in England; the humidity falling on their skins sending chills through his spine.

The jacket still smelled like whatever bleach they used at the hospital back in Paris, and the packets inside his pockets only had a few cigarettes left. He had been keeping count, its number diminishing as they approached the crossing line, and the only one he didn’t regret losing was the one he had given you.

“You look like a ghost,” he remarked, eyes on your pale face emphasised by the white light of the moon that shone on the dirt track they were currently walking on. Your eyes were aimlessly looking at the ground and the shawl around your shoulder gave you a mystical aura that had him fascinated.

But regardless how spellbound he was, Tom was genuinely still worried about you.

“Hum… Thank you?” you answered, tilting your head in his direction, making him smile internally.

Oh, don’t worry, love, you still look bloody beautiful.

“Have you had some water?” Henriette asked at your side as she extended her gourd to you.

You contemplated the object before taking it. “Damn, I would kill for some hot tea right now,” you muttered before taking several sips of the freezing liquid before wiping your lips with the back of your hand. They were a lovely shade of pink and Tom noticed that it contrasted with the paleness of your face beautifully.

“I heard German tea’s not that bad,” he said after a moment, putting his hands in his pockets with a teasing smile.

Both women looked at him and scowled, making him grin wider. “I’m joking…They got good beer, though.”

Henriette shook her head in exasperation while you met his eyes, a small smile on your lips as you watched him with a glint of forbidden amusement. Yep, breathtaking. 

Albert and Giulia walked in front of them, deep in conversation that had been going on since they left the factory and when the first lights of the morning pierced the sky, Tom barely noticed Albert slow down to walk at his pace while you walked further ahead. “So, you… in Dunkerque?”

Tom lifted his head in surprise, wondering how the conversation would go with both of them not exactly speaking each other’s language. The only French Tom had picked up from his time in this country were the words for water, car, bread and German.

Nothing that would help him with your brother at the moment. “Yeah. Evacuated and all, a mess.”

Albert seemed to understand. “Tiré… You shot?” he continued, flattening his fist over his own shoulder before pointing at Tom’s.

“Yeah, shot by a bloody chaser. Stuka,” he clarified when he saw Albert frown in incomprehension.

The latter only nodded at the known word before lowering his hand over his thigh. “Me too, shot. But less… courageux. I ran from German when come here, they shot us. Bullet hit a little,” he added as he tapped the fabric of his trousers pensively. “One friend… didn’t survive.”

They fell in a respectful silence, Albert’s expression turning melancholic while they reminisced about what they had lost. Tom saw images of a hand extended to him amidst flashing red lights, followed by a face, half burned, lying on the deck, dead. The face that belonged to the hand he didn’t take. A strong feeling of guilt burned his tongue, the memory of Vic rendering his throat sour.

Once they’re gone, they’re gone, you should make it right when you can.

“You have sister, brother?”

“A sister, Lois,” Tom answered a little more brightly as the dreadful images disappeared, replaced by his sister’s big blue eyes warming his chest. “Hell of a singer.”

Albert paused for a moment to understand the last word before nodding again. “So you understand. What it is, to be… protective of sister.”

Tom’s head snapped up, meeting Albert’s stern gaze. “Uh… Yeah, I don’t know. She never really needed anything of me… Older sister and all, I guess.”

Your brother feigned to understand before keeping on, pointing at you walking in front of them. “Y/N, little sister to me. Protect her,” he assured as he witnessed Tom’s growing confusion. “Once, a boy, he, uh… broke Y/N heart,” he trailed, looking for the English words with difficulty. “You know what I did?”

Tom shook his head slowly, replacing confusion for complete nervousness as he waited for your brother to answer his own question, body tense in expectation.

Only Albert did not utter a word, instead drawing his lips into a thin line and coming to apply a slight pressure on Tom’s valid shoulder, resting there for an uncomfortable amount of time. He watched him intensely, conveying what he wanted to say through the light taps on his shoulder and Tom felt his body freeze, feeling the weight of his meaning.

Then he felt the pressure disappear and Albert walked away, returning to his place next to Guilia, leaving a stunned Tom behind.

“What is it again…”

Several hours later, you had reached a crossing, people trampling around in the shade of the trees under the morning sun, disarray radiating from them. Cars were passing by, going in the opposite direction with their engines roaring and you had to dodge two of them in order to let them pass. You all stopped, unwilling to merge with the disorganised crowd.

“Excuse me,” Giulia called out to a slowing black car, approaching the driver. “What is happening?”

“If you’re asking about why people are stopping, it’s because there’s a German post ahead. They have the bridge under their control, alright. I guess all those folks don’t know what to do about it, can’t cross with the river.”

Henriette swore under her breath, rising to look above the heads before her, as if hoping to see the Germans in the distance.

“Where are you coming from?” Giulia continued, looking at the luggage on the back seat of the car.

“Châteauroux, going back home… Turns out,  I had a flat tyre and they helped me change it when I went through them,” the driver said, tapping his  car door.

“... the German helped you change your tyre?” Albert asked, sceptical.

“They did, indeed,” he answered before driving away, leaving your group behind disconcerted.

“What do we do?” you asked after explaining the situation to Tom.

“I…”

“How are we going to cross the line? I’m not passing through them,” spat Henriette.

“You and Y/N could pass on your own, you’re just going home, right? You have nothing to hide,” remarked Albert. “Even Tom here would pass for a lost lad, just look at him.”

“I’m not leaving you,” you interject, taking your brother’s arm and glancing at Tom with concern.

“It doesn’t work like that… The Germans must be on edge, they’ll be suspicious of anything, without mentioning that he is supposed to be dead,”  trailed Giulia deep in thought, looking around like the grapevine fields held the answer she was looking for.

“So what do we do?”

Giulia let Henriette’s question linger in the air for a while before pursing her lips, looking west. “We find a passage point of our own. They can’t be everywhere yet."

And here you were walking again, fatigue starting to seriously eat at your core and the sole of your shoes was starting to wear out, making you regret not bringing a second pair. You passed a nearby village bordering the Cher river that prevented you from going further, a herd of cows half immersed in the water in order to escape the heat. Aside from dogs barking in the distance, all was quiet as you walked up the street, not a soul present outside as if the stony houses and green gardens were deserted. This is why you felt uneasy when you were made self-conscious of the only pair of eyes staring at your group like a hawk, standing in her yard behind a wooden fence with a distrustful icy glare that silently followed your progress. The said woman looked old, cutting out wild branches out of a bush with sharp shears in her hands and stopping when you finally noticed her.

“I’m going to ask her.”

“This is a bad idea, Henriette…” you whispered to your friend, not liking the dark expression the woman bore one bit.

But she didn’t have to ask anything, the harsh voice of the woman suddenly filling the air. “What you lot doing here? You’re not from here.”

You thought it bizarre for someone so close to the line to be surprised by a group of strangers weeks after the first waves of exodus, but you didn’t think too much about it, rather waiting for someone else to speak. Albert was the one who approached her. “No we’re not, we live further south, madame. We just want… We’re looking to cross the river.”

Giulia had her hand over your brother’s arm in a previous attempt to stop him from speaking but now she looked interested in whatever answer the woman would give. The latter froze momentarily before taking a deep annoyed breath, suspicion still adorning her features. When she spoke again, her tone had softened, however. “Hmpf. You’ll want the last house on the right at the end of the road.”

You all looked at each other in puzzlement while Tom eyed the woman curiously. “Merci beaucoup,” bowed your brother in thanks and took Giulia by the arm to lead her in the right direction while you did the same with Tom, thanking the woman silently in turn.

“And not a word!” she called after you roughly with a loud whisper. You looked back at her frightened before resuming your walk.

“She sounds like a lovely lady. Wouldn’t like venturing close to those shears of hers, though,” Tom said as he glanced at her over his shoulder with a mild smirk, your hands curled around his elbow as you led him away. “Care about my limbs too much for that." 

“Of course you do,” you said playfully and you sensed his gaze on you again.

“What? You don’t think it would be a loss if I… missed some parts?”

You rolled your eyes as you tried not to blush, but your cheeks turned hot despite your better efforts, the smile on your lips reaching your eyes and Tom let out a soft laugh that made Albert turn with a raised brow. You lowered your gaze to the ground, struggling to keep the sinful thoughts at bay.

The house at the end of the road was more of a farm, two barns at each side of the entrance and as many dogs to welcome you loudly as you passed the gates. At the sound of the agitation, a man who you presumed to be the owner came out of the main building at the opposite side of the yard to call after them, whistling them to heel.

“Who are you? What do you want?” he barked when he reached your group taking great steps, his dogs circling him excitedly. He was mid-aged, strong looking with a bushy beard that hid his neck and you were reminded of the shepherds in your childhood stories.

“We… were directed to this house. We need to cross the river. Sir,” spoke Giulia when she saw the man’s eyes turn into slits. He scrutinised each and every one of you, lingering to observe Albert from head to toe before losing his wary expression as fast as it had come. “Come on, quick.”

You all crossed the courtyard and followed him inside the main building obediently, the dogs behind you now happily sniffing your legs with breathy huffs. Once in a large room with a low ceiling that made Tom duck a little as he entered, the man turned to you all, standing awkwardly and taking in your surroundings with bashful stares.

“Quite the group you have there,” he announced, taking several glasses out of a cupboard and laying them down on the table. “Fruit brandy? Blackberry, homemade.”

You eyed the brown bottle he was agitating in his hand with narrowed eyes before Henriette answered for you, nodding in agreement and the man proceeded to pour a little amount in each glass before beckoning you all to sit around the large table. Only Tom and Giulia stayed up, unwilling to sit on the empty chairs next to the man.

You winced when the thick liquid hit the inside of your throat, burning; but it felt good after the night you had, your head still throbbing a little from your fall. Henriette wore the same mixed expression as you while Tom observed his glass unconvinced before drinking, shaking his head in reaction when he put the glass back down on the table with a thud.

The man then took out cigarettes from his jacket and extended it towards you with raised eyebrows. You refused with a grateful smile while Albert and Tom gladly took one.

“So here’s what’s going to happen," he started as he took a ciggy of his own. "We can’t make you cross in daylight because they’re surveilling the river, so you’re stuck here until nightfall. If a problem comes along, anything at all, you hide in there,” he pointed to an open door on the side, large enough to contain three brooms and a bucket. “You stay quiet, and all will be well. They already searched the house two days ago, so they shouldn’t be back until a while.”

“Merci, Monsieur,” voiced Henriette as she took another sip of her glass while you explained the plan to Tom. “May we know your name?”

“No,” he answered as he flicked a match. “The less you know about me, the better. Remember, do not- ever, talk about the people that help you, it’s too dangerous.”

Giulia nodded in agreement, a rule she already knew while Tom looked at the wooden door with an incredulous look. “We can’t all go in there.”

The man looked up at him with surprise, taking a minute to comprehend that Tom spoke another language altogether. “What did he say?”

“He said that we all won’t fit,” you translated, agreeing with him on that point.

The man stared at Tom for a moment before getting up slowly, walking around the table and coming to stand inches from Tom’s face who didn’t flinch one bit. “Maybe it’s because there is a basement behind that panel, wiseass.” 

Tom titled his head back slightly, an unimpressed smile dancing on his lips as he looked back at you. “What was that?”

“Nothing, he just says there is a basement we can hide in beneath it,” you explained standing up instantly in order to softly drag Tom away by the arm, giving a reassuring nod to your host as the others shifted uncomfortably. It seems to suffice because the man regained his chair while Tom took a drag out of his cigarette, looking aloof and wearing a self-sufficient expression.

“Is there a place where we could rest, sir? We… didn’t have much sleep last night.”

He crushed his bud before leading you to your ‘accommodation’ with a waving hand, you and Henriette taking an old looking sofa in an adjacent room while the others are left to sleep comfortably in the barn with blankets. “I warn you, it gets hot in the afternoon,”  he announced before leaving them there.

As you close your eyes, trying to find sleep, anxiety claws at your chest at the idea that tonight, you would cross the river with a real risk looming over your group for the first time since you left.

You wake up in the evening, feeling drowsy but a little bit better and only your stressful state from what you will do tonight remains. Outside, the light has started to dim and you can hear frogs croaking in unison in the distance as you move through the house, all of you converging to the dining room where you are offered ham and bread along with some fruit. You eat in apprehensive silence, only broken by curt questions asked by your host like ‘Where are you from’ or ‘What happened in that factory’.

You don’t really participate, lulled by the outside sounds and the soft ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece, nightfall arriving at a slow pace. In front of you, Tom doesn’t speak either, his fingers drumming on the wooden table at times, wearing a plain expression as you glance at him through your eyelashes. He looks relaxed, but you know better, know him better; he is as anxious as you are, and you can’t even reach for him to make him feel less alone.

You linger in the kitchen to wash the plates with the help of Henriette while your brother and Giulia disappear somewhere in the house to talk over the plan, the bearded man soon announcing that he has some preparation to make and exits in turn. You haven’t noticed Tom slip out of the room at all in your focused state, so when you are done with the dishes, you wipe your hands on your towel and step outside in order to look for him, not liking him alone.

The dogs are playing in the yard joyfully, unbeknownst to your nerves on edge and you stop to briefly pet them; the licks they give you lifting your spirit a little before going straight for the smaller barn, the door slightly ajar.

He is there, sitting on a haystack with his legs stretched out, a cigarette hanging from his lips as his gaze is fixed on some chickens trotting around, looking for leftovers on the ground. You approach, coming to sit beside him and he acknowledges your presence with what you think is a fleeting satisfied expression before resuming his quiet observation.

“Find anything interesting about farm life, sailor?” you try, examining his profile, the bruises taking a yellow shade there as he puffs out a cloud of smoke.

“I’m wondering how good a fried chicken would taste right now,” he answers solemnly with a nod towards the winged creatures shuffling around. “I bet the old man wouldn’t even notice a missing bird.”

You watch in turn, agreeing with him, but you’re only reminded of how cunning Tom can be, smiling yo yourself. “Old habits die hard, I see.”

He turns his head to you, a glint of amusement playing in his eyes. “You really think I settled to steal birds back home? Didn’t know you had such a low opinion of me.”

“Can’t tell, I never knew what you were up to, really,” you shrug as you grab the smoke between his fingers to bring it to your lips. "And I know for a fact that you love birds." 

He watches the movement, endeared by it and how your rosy lips enclose his own cigarette, right there by his side. “Where are the others?”

You take another drag before handing it back to him, pursing your lips. “Henriette is helping out in the kitchen and-”

“Let me guess,” he interrupts, a smirk stretching at the corner of his mouth as his face brightens. “Your brother and my lovely guide are alone together somewhere, discussing like they’re thick as thieves.”

You part your lips in mild surprise, unsettled by his confidence. “How do you know?”

“C’mon,” he hints, making you frown. “I may not speak French, but I have eyes.”

You get lost in your thoughts for a few seconds, reminiscing about the last few days and Tom's words slowly start to make sense in your mind. All of the time he spent with her, his ease when she is near.

“Well… Good for him,” you conclude as a chicken starts rummaging close to your foot.

Tom leans back against the wall again with a musing sound, eyes not leaving you and enjoying how unsettled he had made you. But then a question comes into his mind and he flicks some ashes away, swallowing nervously. “Say… Your brother he… Never got into a fight, did he?”

You glance back at him, a smile gradually tugs at the corner of your lips as you lean backwards, mimicking him. “Whatever he told you, I guarantee he exaggerated,” you laugh softly. “Albert is a kind soul, never got carried away.”

“So he never… beat up someone? Not once? Can happen to everybody.”

You look at the ceiling as you shake your memory, humming in the process. “He may have had some scraps when we were younger, but apart from that… Why do you ask?”

He hesitates, playing with the tip of his fag. “Just… something about you being heartbroken?”

You turn your head to look up at him, brushing his shoulder in the process, his scent like pine trees reaching your senses. His eyes are trained on you, serious now, and you feel something thrum in your chest before you answer. “Ah… That. Albert wanted to do something about it but he only ended up giving him a good scolding. I was young, I thought it was the end of the world but looking back, it was absolutely meaningless,” you comment, turning one of the rings on your finger distractedly. "I don’t think I’ve ever been heartbroken, you know?”

You hear his soft exhale next to your ear as smoke escapes his lips, glimpsing the slight nod of his head from the corner of your eye. Over the silence you search his face, his eyes are transfixed ahead of him and the desire to be able to read his thoughts passes over you. “...Have you?”

His eyes snap at you at that, their soft blue glow making you pause as he answers contemplatively. “No, I don’t think so… Not yet, at least.”

You turn your tongue in your mouth, stopping words from leaving it as you stare back at the chickens, his gaze hot on the side of your face. You’re tempted to look back, to acknowledge what you chose to ignore obstinately, instead conjuring a memory from your childhood home and recounting it to Tom. All of that to brush away the inevitable future, because you knew it would hurt, you just had to make it less painful, some way or another.

He listens to you, speaking about him in turn without complaint and you talk for what seems like hours, reminiscing stories of your childhood you never got to tell each other while in Manchester. 

When you come to the subject of Tom’s first serious infraction the chickens are long gone, having run back in their respective coop for the night. Eventually, the conversation fades down, less enthusiastic as dark falls completely outside, a single lamp hanging over an oaken beam your sole source of light. You feel so comfortable next to him, your knees brushing his in the need to compensate for the cool air settling down over your skin with the warmth radiating from his body. But at the sight of the night finally taking over, anguish comes back to nag at you and you still shiver.

“How far is it?” Tom asks softly after a while, no smile discernable in his voice. “Where you’re going?”

“About… 150 km,” you answer with a strained voice, conjuring a mental map. “Maybe two days of walk, give or take…”

“So not very far, then…” he murmurs pensively, and you can’t help but look at him with saddening eyes. He looks so… exhausted.

“We still have time,” you assure, turning fully to him as you feel his anguish reach you, the one you refused to acknowledge earlier. “We have to cross the river, and then-”

“Doesn’t change the fact that in a matter of days we might never see each other again.”

He meets your eyes for a fleeting moment, his blue eyes piercing yours, sombre before they’re gone again, as if looking at you pained him greatly. You feel your breath hitch in your throat, your heart constricting in your chest. You don't want him looking at you like this.

You see the subtle clenching of his jaw and your fingers reach for it, softly bringing his face to look back at you, your chin almost touching his shoulder with the proximity. “Don’t say that. There will be an after, we just have to wait for the better days to come. For the war to be over."

His eyes shut briefly at your touch, and you can feel the way he imperceptibly leans into it. “We might never get there. The Nazis won't stop, England won't surrender in a million years, and somewhere along the way I'll be fighting for the other side, left to hope that you're alright."

Your eyelids feel heavy, fluttering slowly, wondering if the weight of his words have something to do with it. "Nothing will happen to me as nothing will happen to you. You just have to make it to Spain, then start from there." 

"You won't even know if I made it, if I ever do, anyway."

“Giulia will get you there, I trust she will. Then we'll both be home, we'll know we're safe. We'll be with our families, with our loved one."

A weak smile cracks over his lips, one of his hands coming to reach over yours resting at the side of his face, your fingers trailing the edge of his jaw, unkempt by days of travel. You get lost in the gesture there, at the feel of it while he rubs his thumb on the inside of your wrist, soft circles of soothing affection. 

“Don’t you feel that it won’t be enough?”

His question grazes your skin, uttered so closely and making your eyes shift to his, their blue piercing through your soul like hot coals and you shiver. But inside, you feel warm, a bright glow filling your chest and you are sure its light can reach him, like you’re sharing the same hammering hearts, the same thoughts, meaningful words hanging in the air between you but unable to unhook. It’s almost painful, the ache that wants you closer to him, and when you lower your eyes to his lips there is suddenly no distance anymore, the caress over your inner wrist stopping to grip it softly.

The kiss is full of longing, lips entrapped against each other with carefulness, tender skin against tender skin and it’s overwhelming, right. You’re not sure about what you’re doing but you need it, Tom responding with the gentlest touch he has ever given you and a veil falls over your mind, the necessity to forget about the cold truth of the days to come filling every cell of your body, replaced by this instant. You wonder if he feels the same as you get lost in his, the pain you wanted to avoid out of reach. His tongue dances with yours at a slow pace, wishing time would go as leisurely, his pressure on your wrist binding you both in soft adoration.

“Y/N? Y/N, are you there? Oh-”

You shift instantly at the voice of your brother, his head appearing within the frame of the door just in time for Tom to back away from you in a fluid movement, distancing himself like you’d burned him. Albert wears a gobsmacked expression, glancing between you and Tom while the latter only stares at the ground with his head down. You, for your part, look at him unabashedly, waiting for him to speak, a frustrating feeling of loss coursing through your body.

“It’s time, we need to go,” Albert announces after an uncomfortable silence, and then he is gone, leaving you to look back at Tom still looking downwards, teeth digging into his bottom lip, looking like a teenager caught in the act.

When he meets your gaze, you cannot help the wide smile that spreads across your face. “Don't.”

“I didn’t say anything!” you laugh at Tom’s flustered expression, the shade of his cheeks adorable as you wonder if yours wears the same colour, feeling blissfully happy.

But when you both get up and go for the main house, stress gradually regains your nerves for what is to come.

Part 8

A/N: Thank you @babyblue711 & @enchantingcupcakecollectionfan as always, I won't be able to do much without you.

@chainsawsangel@mischiefmanaged71@depressedperson88@enchantingcupcakecollectionfan@yentroucnagol@tssf-imagines @nightdiamond8663 @lauraneedstochill @unleashthelion @helaenaluvr @omgkatherine01 @launotfound @r0segard3n

[dirtysvthoughts]

𝓟 𝓡 𝓘 𝓥 𝓐 𝓣 𝓔 𝓓 𝓐 𝓝 𝓒 𝓔 𝓡 - CHAPTER FIVE

pairing: producer/regular! jihoon x stripper! reader

word count: 2.1k

general tags/warnings: smut, pwp, power play between jihoon and reader, female! reader, some sexy lil foreplay, jihoon is an ass man and pussy devourer, teasing, jihoon reveals his abs/chest, couch sex, full nudity (for both jihoon and reader), pet names (baby, honey, etc.)

notes: i may have indulged myself a little cause jihoon has been wrecking my bias list a little TOO hard lately 😵‍💫 the end gets to be pure filth simply cause i was in my horny feelings 💔 need him so bad

playlist songs: tonight - jimmy brown, sweet the kid, lust - hoody and elo, on me (prod. kang yujeong) - haeil

taglist: @im-gemmy @enhacolor @hooniewnderland @svtup @kawaiikels @weeevrse @diorsfxck @kyexvly @woozarts @ifuckcheol @marsstarxhwa @haoxiaoba (if your user is crossed out that means i can no longer tag you,, if you would like to be added to the taglist, let me know by commenting under this post!)

you normally don’t do house calls. it’s an unspoken, spoken rule for strippers that you rarely go to a client’s home for work.

and with this particular regular of yours, he doesn’t normally allow outsiders in his private space.

but tonight was different. he contacted you earlier in the day if you could come over to the universe factory, his personal studio, trying to keep it cool when the reality was he needed you. desperately.

“i’ve been working on these tracks, these demos for multiple artists, it’s been a lot, and,” he sighs clicking on his mouse, moving things around on his screen. “i think it would help me a lot if you were here. besides, it’s been way too long…”

“aww, hoon!” you cutely admire, already packing your travel bag with your pleasers and settling on an outfit. “well lucky for you, i’m not working at illusion tonight, so i can stay for as long as we both want. not gonna lie, i missed you too hoon, especially after the last time. i missed your hands rubbing all over my waist, mmmm kissing my neck..” you tease him, trying to rile something out of him.

you smile to yourself when you hear him hiss over the phone. “don’t make me come and i haven’t even seen you yet,” he groans, now a little annoyed that you gave him flashbacks to a few weeks ago. you giggle proudly, your voice continuing to melt his ears, “make sure you keep it up for me then okay? i’ll see you soon, baby!”

before jihoon can utter another word, you hang up the phone and toss it on your bed, loving the fact that you got to keep him on the edge of his seat. you knew he would get you for hanging up on him, hoping it would lead to getting fucked in every position in every corner of the universe factory.

——

jihoon sets the mood in his space, ceiling lights dim, multiple-colored galaxy lights spread across the big room. in a corner stands a tall, silver chrome pole and across from it a black cushion accent chair with an armrest. he sprays down your pole to clean it, wiping it down with a cloth, soft r&b music (all music he’s been working on) lowly playing in the background.

jihoon made sure beforehand that his studio is clean, any food or trash completely taken out. as he makes sure everything is perfect, his phone dings with two messages.

sage: hey honey, i’m inside the building, ground floor

sage: let me up whenever you’re ready 🤍

without hesitation, he heads down to the elevator to the ground floor. a few minutes later, he exits the elevator to find you, scrolling through your phone - your crop top and gym pants already having him wanting to take you down. he calls your name and you look up with a smile on your face when you see it’s him.

“hey beautiful,” he says built arms wrapping around your waist. he donned his usual wear, an oversized shirt and shorts, this time wearing a white tee and black shorts. his long back hair fell over his eyes, giving him a more mysterious, even sexier look. you can’t help yourself as your mouth melts into his kiss, he tilts your chin up to get more access, feeling your body up.

you nearly mouth into his mouth, but you catch yourself realizing that you two were still in an open space where anyone could easily walk by and even spy. you gently pull away from him, brushing some of his hair out of his face.

“hey, baby - i really missed you,” you muse, your panties pathetically starting to get wet. right now you had to be the one in charge, whatever jihoon could do to you, that would be for later.

“i missed you too,” he takes his hand out and you grab ahold of it, as he walks you to the elevator. “you look even prettier today.”

“thanks,” you say, admiring how attentive he was. as the doors close, it’s a struggle for you both to keep your hands to yourself, but you soon get to jihoon’s floor quicker than you think. he exits first and you follow right after him, only a few feet away from the universe factory.

he punches in a code on the keypad and it makes a little melody as it unlocks. he motions for you to come in first, shutting the down once you’ve entered, door automatically locking behind you two.

“go get changed honey, ’ill be waiting for you,” he smirks at you, going to his desktop, pulling up something on the screen. you playfully roll your eyes as you unzip your bag and take out your clothes, walking towards the bathroom.

——

you check yourself out in the mirror, mentally thanking yourself for making the right decision on your outfit. you settled on a very short white bra top (to where the lines of your breasts could be seen) and barely there jean shorts, the cute ones that left most of your booty out, but still left that area covered. you paired it with your black thigh highs, deciding to be a bit bolder and wearing eight inch heels.

once you’re completely convinced, you step out of the bathroom door, walking towards jihoon, who now was sitting on the black chair across from the pole. he doesn’t notice you coming out, but he does notice you when you start to roam your hands across his shoulders and his chest, attempting to give him a massage.

“mmmm, my jihoonie has been working so hard lately,” you kiss the temple of his forehead as your continue your motions. “so tense that i can feel it just touching you.. let me help you relax honey, don’t worry about anything tonight.” he easily gives into you, and now without having to worry about anyone watching or listening, he groans out loud and it goes straight to your core.

as he tilts his head back, trying to immerse himself into you, you take the chance and gingerly sit in his lap, teasing him by slowing moving your hips and grinding down on him, instrumental beats that he’s made playing in the background. jihoon’s hands tighten their grip on the armrest, and you can feel him starting to get harder through his shorts. you chuckle to yourself, purposefully moving harder.

“so you did keep that dick up for me!” you sweetly kiss his forehead, and then his lips. “you can’t even resist the thought of me, can you baby?”

as the music continues to play, you roll your hips in rhythm to the slow beats, jihoon admiring your confidence, eyes never leaving each other’s. you bounce your ass on his lap, jihoon clearly enjoying the movement, nodding his head, hands gripping your waist as your shake your ass, spanking your right cheek in response.

“love seeing that ass shake for me,” jihoon smacks the opposite side, smirking as your face contorts in pleasure.

“should i turn around then? let you see it from the back?” you bite down on your lips again, playfully questioning him. you turn around, making sure your ass is poking out, jihoon groaning at how good your backside looks up close and personal.

“damnnn, baby,” he draws out, palming your behind. “you may need to wear these shorts more often, lookin so damn sexy dancing on me,” he pulls you flush against his back, groping your breasts feverishly.

“sh-shit, hoon!” you continue to moan out, going insane at how he was touching you. jihoon set himself apart from your other regulars, knowing just where to touch you at just the right moments. you don’t know if he knew this already, but his fingertips doting across your skin always sent chills down your spine. you turn back around to face him and kiss jihoon’s neck, head resting on his shoulders, leaving a few hickies along the way.

your hands trail down jihoon’s shirt, and you’re shocked by what you can feel. “h-hoon? your chest, holy fuck?” he can’t help but smirk at your expression as you bring the hem of his shirt up, revealing a peek of his lower abs, defined and absolutely delicious.

“you wanna see more honey?” jihoon slyly says, guiding your fingers to his abs, letting you feel him up. “god yes!” you whine out, feeling the heat course through your body. without anymore hesitation, you take off his shirt and he helps you get it over his head and you toss it across the room.

you maneuver off his lap and go down to your knees, face inches away from jihoon’s crotch. you slowly bring your head up and kiss your away up his chest, every now and then, your tongue traveling over his sculpted abs.

“oh, jihoon…,” you swoon coming up momentarily and then continuing your actions. “you taste so good honey, i can’t wait to get the rest of you in my mouth later, can’t wait to swallow every last drop of you..”

before you can go any further and pull down his shorts, he grabs your wrist and pulls you back on his lap, shoving his mouth into yours. your hips grind into his, trying to feel the friction of your bodies, panties long soaked through. jihoon’s tries to match your energy, bucking your hips up, his thrusts making you crave for more.

jihoon holds your legs by your thighs and hoists you up as he stands, walking as quickly as he can without losing his balance - both of your mouths still dancing with each other’s. once he feels his legs hit the edge of the couch, he nearly crashes his back into the piece of furniture, rotating your bodies to where you were underneath him.

before he lays you down, jihoon takes off your crop top, leaving the both of you shirtless. you whimper as the cold surface hits your back, body to body - chest to chest. “fuck, jihoon! o-oh, jihoon,” you call out, pulling down his shorts, and revealing his boxers- a wet spot visible from how much pre-cum was leaking.

“a whole wet spot and we haven’t even gotten inside each other yet.. you really are down bad for me hoon,” you chuckle, but it quickly turns into a whine when he puts his finger in your mouth and you quickly suck on the digits.

“you talk about me, but what about you honey?” he scoffs, taking his fingers from your mouth to the button of your shorts, unzipping and dragging them down your legs, clearly enjoying the fact that you wore nothing underneath. “one touch from me and you’re a whimpering, needy mess, just like you are now,” jihoon hums, taking off the waistband of boxers. “just my needy little honey who’s always ready for me..”

“fuck, c’mon jihoon, put it in me already,” you say getting impatient, tapping his forearms. “for someone who’s generally quiet, you sure have been talking a lot tonight.. why don’t you put that mouth to good use and eat me out huh?”

before he can protest, you shove his head down to your set of lower lips, high-pitched pornographic moans leaving your mouth. you knew he was gonna get you back in a split second, this fight for dominance something you always enjoyed.

he starts sucking your clit at normal pace, but jihoon makes sure you can feel every inch of his tongue in your special place. as he alternates between sucking and licking, you grip the nape of his hair tighter, causing him to groan into your pussy, making the sensations in your stomach coil.

but just when you feel yourself getting used to the speed of jihoon’s mouth, he goes faster - your juices covering his lips and chin. you practically buck into his mouth at this point, trying to do whatever to chase this fantastic high, this wave that was about to crash over you.

“j-ji-jihoon, jihoon, jihoon!! FUCK!” you scream, calling out his name like it was the only thing you knew. you convulse on his couch, orgasm spreading through the fabric, dripping down your legs, and most importantly covering his lips, your taste encapsulating his thoughts as he swallows every last bit he can.

you still breathe heavily as he comes up from your legs, groaning as you miss the intimate contact. but you quickly get your wish fulfilled when jihoon gently starts to push his tip in, gasping at how such a small move had a vice grip on your body.

“h-hoon, f-fuck, i-” you start to speak but he puts a finger over your lips, hushing you for a moment.

“mmm, don’t say anything honey, just let me fuck you right tonight.. you deserve it all baby, let me return the favor.”

[siremasterlawrence]

Ping! Factory Reset

Major Hollyoaks StarJamie Lomas has no idea why today of all the days in the world feels so odd to him as he rolls from his side on to his back laying in bed as he takes a deep breath.

He huffs out loud as his wife who is in deep sleep checking him out he tosses on to the floor placing his feet in to the slippers a she rose up and stretches for the morning wake up routine.

He shakes his head vigorously doing all of his effort in ignoring the nagging feeling in his head and he enters the bathroom quietly closing the door as he turns to the mirror he looks up.

The grogginess is very apparent as he bent down a bit switching the knob to let the flow of water run cupping in his hands as he is splashing his flashing with water with a sweet cool effect.

He switch the knobs reaching for the rack across from him wiping his face he places the towel on his neck and stare up in to the mirror he catches his handsome face with a smirk.

He uses his right hand to touch his smooth face gliding down with it as easy as a blade so beautiful done with love he falls for his own body and he completely forgets about his girlfriend.

He can’t stop smiling for some reason he is totally consuming his as his lips spread wide, his teeth show so white and a baffle of giggles exit his mouth filling the room up to the brim.

Unable to turn away from his own imagehe saw a man in the mirror freaking out he spun to the side to see no one is actually there and he once he takes a second look at the mirror.

It’s crazy the strange man places a hand on his shoulder meshing his skin with his as the touch which both frighten and titalating all of his senses into a freaky neurological sensation on a transformational level.

“Who…who are you?”

“I am your new Master”

“What? Fuck no!”

“You have no say in the matter “

“Let me go! Release me”

“Fuck you! You want this”

“I do not want….”

“You want what”

“That is not what I said “

“Are you sure?”

“Fuck yes!”

“So you agree?”

“NO!”

“Ugh! Pathetic “

“Asshole”

“Submit “

“I said I do not want”

“What? You do want to submit right?”

“Yes! I do”

“Hah! I knew it”

“How did you do that?”

The man had enough placing the left hand on his shoulder forcing his hands on to the floor in a kneeling position firmly he hand handles him Jamie feels so lost like a young man being handled by a older mature one for sure.

“Listen to me Jaime let go of yourself “

“Release your soul and relinquish “

Ping! A loud excruciating pain clicks in his head swirling through the upper, lower and middle areas of the brain bouncing in pain in the inner chambers of the wall.

“Ping!”

“Factory Reset!”

“Good boi!”

“Mmmmm”

“Who am I? What’s my name?”

The end

[sinvulkt]

Pathetic by Udekai ( @udekai )

Serie with 15 works. Ongoing, 188k words.

*** ** * ** ***

Part 1, chap 7:

Didn’t deserve it. Nobody does. Happens anyway. You deserve help. Temptation. Something he could not have- did not need to be reminded. Stop dangling it in front of him.   Love. Addiction. Keep it away. Couldn’t have that, either.   Comfort. Please. What? What comfort?   Something stopped him from abusing the voice in his head. Not compassion.   Fuck off.   A couple of beats of silence. He found himself regretting the thought, though it was the right thing to think. The right thing to do. Leave him alone.   Still here.   Matt swallowed thickly. His skin was clammy and cold, his hair plastered to his forehead from leftover sweat. It was turning into a gel. He was disgusting. Disgusting. Beautiful. Loved.   It wasn’t as easy to smile at this one; the last path he went down, the last train of thought- that one was a comedian. He didn’t know what this one was. He could only manage the vaguest smirk.   I’d like to be alone now, he thought, more gently than he'd like. More fragile, like he was pleading.   You are.   Matt won. He fucking won.

Part 1, chap 8:

Good job, dad! You did it.    A giggle bubbled up in him that turned into an earnest laugh. He threw his head back and chuckled until he had to wipe a tear from his eye. It took a moment to settle down, laughter still bouncing off of the distant hills.   What a fucking way to get something done. Absolutely insane.   Of course, that was somebody else that dear ol' dad died for. Some schmuck with big, hopeful dreams and a soul. Matt didn't have either of those things. Didn't need them. Anything he didn't already have, he had the tools to acquire, and in the absence of anything worthwhile, he planned to take whatever he wanted. The world that forgot him would know his name, but they wouldn't dare say it aloud.   He wasn't supposed to be like this, but they didn't call men "self-made" because they came out of factories. He would build himself out of blood and money, and carve what he was owed out of the same breed of people that put him here.   Prissy PR executives. Slimy, ineffective lawyers. Guns for hire. Desperate, stupid people. Any one of them could be snapped, just as he had. Even the Hand would bow.   A king, at last.

Because laughing in the face of despair... is the right way to go.

Part 10, chapter 25:

There was anger in him. Matt, at his core, was vengeful, but he had not known this kind of raw rage since he was a child. He felt unstable and volatile; running on natural gas that had yet to catch a spark.   He didn't know what he was so pissy about. Maybe he was angry that there were so many obstacles between him and being known, or that he wanted to be known in the first place, or that he couldn't allow himself to be known.   Maybe a mixture of all of them. He wanted, and he could not have, and maybe it was as simple as that. Maybe the familiarity of this bitter taste on the back of his tongue was what inspired it: because he did know this. He knew temptation like an old enemy: he wanted a father, he wanted a family, he wanted his mother when the blood dried between his fingers, he wanted to run away with someone who understood, he wanted vengeance without cost, he wanted the world to see what they had created and weep with apology.   He wanted to be mourned.   He wanted, and he could not have.

[atlasxspeaks]

Hey modern au Spider x Aonung got me hooked! Can you make a story or one shot out of this? Oo and some modern au hc, like what's wrong with Spider that he has to carry an oxygen tank? Thanks ♥️

Hey! I'm in school rn so I don't have much time to write a full series for any of my ideas but here are some headcanons for this universe:

Basically, all my ideas of Avatar as a modern AU have Pandora being a massive island in the Pacific that was never colonized - only for America to try leading to Jake meeting Neytiri. All the Na'vi live on this island in different parts so Awa'ulta would be on the sandy beachy part of the island.

Ok, headcanon time:

Spider is adopted by Ronal and Tonowari as a way to bridge relations between Pandora and the rest of the world. They don't want outsiders, but they need resources after the war with America, so Jake convinces them that the best way to get those is to connect with other island nations. Spider is half Brazilian in my AU, but he's living in New York with a foster family.

As for the oxygen tank, Spider was a premie baby. His lungs were underdeveloped at birth, and he got sick soon after leaving the hospital. He's got scarring in both lungs that reduce his oxygen intact, so now he needs oxygen 24/7. His lung condition is basically what gets him moved to Pandora. Norm is a friend of his foster family, and they propose Spider go live with him on Pandora because his condition is worsening in NYC due to the smog. But when Neytiri found out he's Qauritch's son, she refuses. Ronal and Tonowari decide to take him in after that.

In this universe, Quaritch raised Spider for a time before abandoning him and his mom for unknown reasons. Paz dies in a factory accident later, and Spider becomes an orphan. Spider hates the man as much as Neytiri does, but he doesn't know that man is an actual war criminal until coming to Pandora.

Spider was physically abused in one foster placement, resulting in burn marks all over his upper body. He wears long sleeves because he doesn't like to see them and because his scars are sensitive to sunlight.

Ao'nung was not a big fan of taking a foreigner into their home, and he didn't even like Spider at first. Then one day, he passes by his baby sister's room and sees Spider, who, up until that point, had actively avoided her, holding her and singing softly in Portuguese. It's then that he notices how beautiful Spider is, and the man is gone. However, he is still a teenage boy, and they're idiots at the best of times, so instead of telling Spider, he turns to bugging him 24/7 to always have his attention.

Spider is a loner at baseline and doesn't open up to others easily, but he has a short fuse and will snap at anyone if they bug him enough. This is why Ao'nung decided constantly pestering Spider is the right way to go.

Spider realizes he's in love with Ao'nung while he teaches him how to surf, and it's more so because out of everyone he's met, Ao'nung doesn't treat him like glass. He figures out a way to waterproof Spider's oxygen tank and makes a new cannula that is more durable for when he wipes out. He then buys Spider a wet suit online since he doesn't like surfing in swim trunks.

I image they’d get to together shortly after Ao’nung apologizes to Lo’ak and stopped picking on the Sully kids.

Ao'nung was immensely jealous of Lo'ak for weeks before Spider kicked his ass back into gear. After becoming an official couple, he gets along with Lo'ak just fine. Lo'ak, however, still holds a small grudge against him that manifests in tattle-telling on Ao'nung to Spider when he does something stupid or reckless because Spider can and will kick his ass.

This is all I have for right now but I hope you enjoy it!

[cherryrainn]

the perfect pair {onceler x reader}

.7 | 𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 |

warning; s3lf harm, self-hatred, depression, mental health issues, etc, and A LOT OF ANGST!!

wattpad ver

song to play while reading if you’d like that i think matches this chapter

part before

next part

note; double upload <3 + ANGSTT

you were sitting on a worn-out bench in the back of the factory, dressed in the fancy attire that onceler had bought for you, the weight of disappointment and despair settled heavily upon your shoulders. your body was exhausted, drained from the constant stress of trying to change onceler's mind. he barely spoke to you anymore, too focused on his "business meetings." you wondered if he even loved you anymore. the sky above you was a dreary, sickly shade of purple-grey, a reflection of the polluted air that choked the once-beautiful truffula valley. you couldn't remember the last time you had seen a true, unblemished blue sky.

the factory loomed in behind you, a monstrous eyesore that blotted out the beauty of nature. you couldn't help but feel like a failure for not being able to persuade onceler to see reason. you had tried so hard, but it seemed like all your efforts were in vain.

as you sat there, your gaze drifted to the animals that had gathered a few feet away. they looked so hungry, so desperate. their eyes, once filled with life and curiosity, now mirrored the emptiness you felt within. it broke your heart to see them suffering because of your onceler's greed. you wished you could do something, anything, to help them, but you were powerless.

your body curled inward, seeking solace and shelter within the sanctuary of your own embrace. the weight of your thoughts threatened to crush you as you trembled with a mix of sorrow, frustration, and self-loathing. the tears that streamed down your face were not just born of sadness, but also of an unyielding determination to fight for what was right, even if it meant facing the consequences of your own powerlessness.

a wave of self-hatred washed over you, the same thoughts that had plagued you for months. you hated yourself for not being able to make a difference, for not being strong enough to stand up to onceler. without even realizing it, you started scratching at your face, trying to relieve the tension that had built up inside you.

as you scratched away at your face, a familiar voice reached your ears, causing you to look up. the blurriness in your vision gradually cleared, revealing the comforting presence of the lorax standing before you. his vibrant orange figure contrasted against the desolate backdrop. with a gentle frown, he spoke, "don't do that."

you sniffled, feeling a mix of relief and guilt flood over you. "i'm sorry. i'm so sorry," you whispered, continuing to wipe away the remnants of your tears. the lorax moved closer, his concerned eyes meeting yours. "don't be," he reassured you, his voice filled with understanding. "it's not ch' fault. don't feel guilty about somethin' ya didn't do."

as he observed your tired eyes, the bags beneath them, and your fragile frame, he couldn't help but sigh. "when was the last time you took care of yourself?" he asked, genuine concern etched across his face.

you sniffled once again, shrugging in response. the lorax's expression softened, his voice filled with compassion. "you've got all the food you need in there, don't ya? go get somethin' to eat." his words sparked an idea in your weary mind, and your eyes brightened with newfound enthusiasm. "oh my god!" you exclaimed, a glimmer of hope returning to your voice.

without hesitation, you rose from the bench and gently lifted the lorax, placing him upon your shoulders. "we have so much food in the kitchen! i can just give it to the animals!" you exclaimed, a sense of purpose infusing your every word. the lorax beamed at the thought, appreciating your kind-hearted nature. "that's a great idea, but... how am i supposed t' get inside?" he questioned, a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

a mischievous chuckle escaped your lips as you unveiled your plan. "don't worry," you reassured him, your voice filled with excitement. with a flourish, you flapped your oversized fur jacket, its ample folds creating a hiding place. "this thing is huge. surely you can just hide in it." intrigued, the lorax gave it a try, and to his surprise, it worked like a charm. "okay, great. let's get our friends some food," you declared, determination gleaming in your eyes.

with the lorax concealed within your jacket, you set off towards the factory, a renewed sense of purpose guiding your every step. the flickering hope within your heart began to grow brighter, fueled by the belief that even in the darkest times, small acts of kindness could make a difference.

you stepped into the familiar warmth of the kitchen. the air was filled with the comforting aroma of freshly baked bread and simmering soups, bringing a touch of solace to your troubled spirit. determined to provide nourishment for the hungry animals outside, you swung the fridge door open wide, revealing an array of vibrant fruits, crisp vegetables, and tantalizing treats.

the lorax emerged from the shelter of your fur jacket, his eyes widening in delight at the sight of the bountiful offerings before him. his orange figure was almost not seeable as you carefully selected a generous portion of food for him, knowing it would bring relief to his famished friends. you handed him the nourishment with a warm smile, appreciating the opportunity to offer a small ray of hope amidst the darkness.

with a gentle hop, the lorax made his way to the open window. with a grateful nod, he leaped into the outside world, disappearing into the foliage with the food clutched in his hands.

as you turned back to the task at hand, a sudden clearing of the throat startled you. slowly, you pivoted on your heels, finding yourself face to face with onceler. the atmosphere seemed to hold its breath, the air thick with anticipation and unresolved tension. in that fleeting moment, time seemed to stand still, and the weight of the world rested upon your shoulders.

the atmosphere grew tense as onceler's anger radiated through his sunglasses. the soft orange/yellow glow of the kitchen lights cast dramatic shadows across his face, accentuating the furrowed lines of frustration etched on his forehead. the room seemed to shrink, enclosing you both in a bubble of charged emotions.

his voice was laced with a mix of betrayal and disappointment as he confronted you. "what the hell are you doing, y/n?" the words sliced through the air, carrying a weight that hung heavily in the silence. his arms crossed tightly, emphasizing his frustration and the distance between you.

with a nervous gulp, you attempted to play it off, your voice laced with a touch of innocence. "oh, onceler! i...just... i'm really hungry, you know?" your sheepish smile faltered slightly under his intense scrutiny, knowing deep down that your explanation fell short of convincing.

pushing his glasses up onto his head, he leaned closer, his tone growing sharper. "you think i'm dumb? i literally saw everything." disappointment crept into his voice, a crack in his once unwavering belief in you. the vulnerability in his eyes mirrored the hurt coursing through your own heart.

his accusatory words stung, echoing through the room like a bitter melody. "i told you not to fuckin' talk to him! this guy's tryna ruin my business, y/n!" his voice carried a mix of anger, frustration, and the fear of losing everything he had built.

the ambiance of the kitchen seemed to darken, shadows dancing around you both, mirroring the darkness within your relationship. the weight of his words settled on your shoulders, and the once warm and inviting room now felt cold and suffocating. 

in the dimly lit kitchen, emotions swirled like a tempest, the air heavy with tension. the faint flicker of candlelight cast flickering shadows across the room, adding an air of melancholy to the scene. it was in this charged atmosphere that you found the strength to speak up, your voice trembling yet determined.

"onceler, you're acting like a kid!" the words pierced through the silence, hanging in the air like a challenge. the intensity in your voice mirrored the fire in your eyes as you refused to back down this time. your outstretched hand pointed accusingly toward the open window, where the devastation outside painted a bleak picture of the consequences of his actions. "look outside, it's disgusting! you did this," you proclaimed, your voice carrying a mix of frustration and despair. "look at the damage you've caused! do you feel no shame?"

the room seemed to hold its breath as your words echoed. onceler stood before you, his towering presence emphasized by the brim of his hat, his face a mask of defiance and indifference. was he really not bothered?

"look, just tell me what you want," he retorted, his voice laced with exasperation. "i know you want something 'cause you're trying way too hard! we have like... all the money in the world! you have everything! what more could you possibly want?" his words reverberated through the room.

in that moment, everything crystallized. tears welled in your eyes, threatening to spill over, as you mustered the courage to voice your deepest longing. "the boy i fell in love with!" you exclaimed, your voice carrying a mix of longing and heartbreak. the room fell into a heavy silence, as if holding its breath, as your words hung in the air.

his once fiery gaze softened, he was taken aback. his eyes widened, and you could see the shock and surprise written all over his face. it was as if your words had finally pierced through the shell he had built up around himself. his once fiery gaze softened, and his eyes widened with a mix of surprise and recognition. in that moment, it felt as if time stood still, allowing a glimmer of hope to flicker amidst the chaos that surrounded you both

with a pained expression, onceler took a hesitant step forward, closing the physical and emotional distance between you. his voice, laced with longing, emerged in a whisper. "y/n...i..." his words hung in the air, caught between the confession that begged to escape and the weight of his choices that held him captive.

but you knew, deep within your heart, that this moment of vulnerability was just a fleeting glimpse of the boy you fell in love with. the boy whose dreams were filled with creativity, compassion, and a genuine desire to protect the girl that was always around him. as much as you yearned for that version of him, you also knew that he was entangled in a web of ambition and misguided priorities.

a bittersweet ache settled within your chest, a mix of love, sadness, and determination. you couldn't bear to walk away, abandoning the person you held so dear. love had tethered you to him, and even amidst the ruins of his actions, you clung to the hope that redemption and change were still within his grasp.

you reached out, your hand trembling slightly, as if trying to bridge the gap between who he was and who he had become. your touch sat right on his chest.

but as the moments passed, you realized that his silence spoke volumes. the reality settled upon you, heavy and unyielding. he wasn't ready to let go of the path he had chosen, and you couldn't force him to change. so, with a mixture of sadness and acceptance, you gently withdrew your hand, letting the unspoken words hang between you.

[obl1vionblackhart]

Heart of gold

Julia Hart x Reader

Summary: the reader bottles up her emotions a lot, and Julia’s starting to notice the toll it’s taking on her…

Warnings!: mentions of depression, PTSD, eating disorders, anxiety. (If you’re not in the right headspace to read about this, please click away and I’ll see you in another post. Stay safe loves ❤️)

A/n: unfortunately, this is gonna be mostly from personal experience…it’s a big part of why I disappeared from this platform for so long. remember you’re all not alone, I love you all.

You were exhausted, drained mentally… and it showed. The bags under your eyes were dark, your hair was a mess and you felt as if you were just slowly fading away. Julia didn’t want to push you, she knew better than that.. but she had to put a stop to this.

You’d always struggled mentally, but your current state was causing flashbacks from your childhood… they weren’t pleasant.

After your mother had passed away, your dad and his new wife were… not so pleasant towards you. They did so much damage and so much trauma, wrestling was the only thing to pull you out of that. Wrestling… and Julia. You met Julia while training at the nightmare factory, and you guys started dating after Julia’s debut. Your parents never accepted you for being bisexual, they never accepted you for anything for that matter.

‘Feel guilty! You’re a horrible daughter!’

‘You’re not depressed, you’re just a lazy pig!’

‘Maybe if you stopped eating and actually cared about your appearance it would fit!’

“Y/n?” Julia snapped you out of your thoughts, to which you blinked and fake smiled at her.

“Are… you okay?” She mumbled to you, putting a hand on your shoulder with a concerned look. You didn’t even realise you were crying until she wiped your tears.

“Oh.. yea! I’m fine..” you said, barely above a whisper. She didn’t believe you, you knew that… but you hoped deep down she did. She watched you carefully, stroking your cheek which gave you some sort of comfort. This girl knew the way to your heart, her touch.. in any way- made everything better.

“I have a match to go to… are you gonna be okay?” The blonde stared at you, she wasn’t even trying to hide her concern. You knew you weren’t gonna be okay… but you also knew you had to be strong for her. You shrugged at her words, kissing her cheek softly

“Go… I’ll be watching”

Later…

You both headed back to the hotel after dark, barely saying anything to each other. She wasn’t mad, but she didn’t want to upset you either. As you drove, she had her hand on your knee… it gave you the comfort you didn’t know you needed. When you both got back, you both agreed julia would take the shower first. You laid on the bed, sighing deeply as you inhaled the clean scent of the pillows beneath you. The lump in your throat was huge, but you knew better than to cry.

“Baby..” julia mumbled timidly, sitting next to you. You looked up at her, that beautiful smile- even if it was a sympathetic one- making you melt. “Have you eaten?” She spoke again, her hand moving up and down your back. You slowly shook your head, a small sigh leaving her lips as you did.

“I- I know… I’m sorry, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to not eat-” you started talking, but tears flooded your eyes mid sentence. A sob left your lips, Julia watched on in shock but silently pulled you into her arms. You stayed there, for what felt like an eternity sobbing into her shoulder. She held you, whispering sweet words into your ear and stroking your hair.

You woke up still on the bed, but Julia gone. You started to panic, but as you did the blonde walked in with a small plate of fruit. You sighed in relief, her small grin calming you.

“I know you probably don’t want to eat… but I brought you something so you have food in your stomach” she explained, sitting next to you on the bed and curling into your side.

“Maybe.. we can talk when you’re done? If you want..” Julia said softly, kissing your cheek. You turned to her, your stare soft. You didn’t understand what you did to deserve such an Angel… but you were so grateful.

“I’d like that… thank you” you whispered, taking a grape from the plate and taking a bite.

The rest of the night was spent cuddling, crying, and explaining everything to your girlfriend. She listened, and comforted you… it felt amazing to get it all off of your chest, and now that she finally understood she could help you.

She truly did have a heart of gold.

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