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helen-with-an-a · 2 months

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The Object that stood in the way of a World Cup pt. 3

Hi. So here is part 3 (again, this will have another part because I am determined to get it happy at the end; it's just taking me a while to get there ahahah). Big thanks to @lyak12 for helping me work out my issues with the fic <3

Part 1 : Part 2 : Part 3 : Part 4 : Part 5 : Epilogue

Ona Batlle x Reader

Flashbacks are in italics

TW: Injury, R ain't ok mentally, suggestiveness

Description: R comes home from Australia to start her recovery

Word Count: 3.6k

You had required three surgeries in total to fix everything – an emergency one to save your leg, one to place the screws and realign everything and one to reattach the ligaments in your knee. The damage the tackle had done was extensive; your shin was splintered into 3, some coming through the skin, and the force of the collision ruptured your ACL and meniscus ligament, too. No one dared show you the video, and you weren’t bothered to look it up. Even though you couldn’t remember what happened, you’d have the scars for life. You had asked what the timeline was for when you could get back on the pitch. One doctor had said it was an if not a when. You didn’t like that doctor. It would be a when – football was your lifeline, your escape when times were tough. You didn’t know how you would cope with it. Your physios at Barca had said that when … if … you were back on the pitch, your playing style would have to change. They had told you in broken English that you probably would never play the same and would have to rely on speed and technical ability rather than strength in matches. But that was ok; as long as you were on the pitch, you didn’t care how you had to play, just so long as you could.

You flew back to Barcelona a month after the World Cup. You wanted to be back earlier, but you hadn’t been cleared to fly and definitely hadn’t been cleared to fly halfway across the world. The medical staff in Australia were lovely – sneaking you extra desserts, cheering every milestone, no matter how small, braiding your hair, and helping apply your moisturiser when you were too tired to do it yourself. Your family had only seen you that first day. You didn’t mind – you didn’t particularly like when they were around anyway. It was always too loud with them. The bad kind of loud. The Lionesses were the good kind of loud. They had piled into your room, staying as long as possible. Georgia had left you with her Tamagotchi, making you promise her you’d try to keep it alive. Being suitably distracted by the mountain of sugary sweets piled on your bed by Hempo, much to the horror of Leah and Sarina, you missed the way Lucy eyed you wearily.

You considered Lucy a big sister, especially since moving to Barcelona. She had been concerned about you since you arrived. The happy, bubbly young woman she had come to care for deeply had retreated back into the quiet shell you had been when you first joined the senior squad. At first, she thought you were just nervous – she knew how scary it could be to be in a new city without many friends. But after a while, she knew it was something more sinister. She barely saw you outside of football; you were always making excuses to avoid team bonding or insisting you needed to stay late to work on things. Things you already excelled at. She grasped just how badly something was wrong with the first international camp of the new year. She thought you would return back to your old ways, finally being around your old friends and not having to navigate another language. But that wasn’t the case; if anything, you grew even quieter – especially around Alessia and Ella. That concerned her the most – you were closer than family to those two. They could always be relied on to drag a smile out of you. So, she kept an eye on you. Quietly observing your behaviour.

Whilst you hated that you weren’t back in Barcelona as quickly as you wanted to be, you were glad you didn’t have to see Ona again so quickly. That night was the last time you had seen her. You hadn’t said anything as she took a seat across from you. She hadn’t said anything as you started to drift into an uncomfortable slumber. Only when she was sure you were in a deep sleep did she break her silence.

“Mai podré dir-te com ho sento,” she whispered. “Sempre t'estimaré. Espero que algun dia em permetis estimar-te de la manera que et mereixes.”

“Oni, I can’t speak Catalan, remember? You’re going to have to repeat that in English.” You laughed as she chattered away. It was an off-day and oddly warm in Manchester. You lay with your head in her lap, top tucked up into your bra, exposing as much skin as possible in an effort to soak up the summer sun.

“Sorry, amor. I’m just happy it’s finally warm here. It reminds me of home a little bit.” She carded her fingers through your hair as you snuggled your face into her stomach.

“Tell me about it?” You asked gently. You loved hearing the stories of her home, her childhood, her life back in Spain.

“There’s this little cafetería back home. It sells the best Crema Catalana ever. I don’t know what they do, but, mmmm ... es tan delicioso. It’s even better than my Mamí’s. It’s so pretty too. It’s got this really cool tiled pattern flooring and vines on the wall at the front. During the summer, they open all the doors and play music and …” You could listen to Ona talk all day; the excitement when she mentions her home is unparalleled. You could feel yourself drifting into sleep – the warm weather, her gentle fingers scratching at your scalp, her intoxicating smell that wrapped around you like a soft hug.

“Mmmm,” you hummed happily. "It sounds fantastic. I wish I could visit,” you commented.

“You shall. I’ll take you. You’ll come to see my home, we’ll do all the touristy things in Barcelona, and then I’ll show you all the local spots in Vilassar de Mar, prometo,” She vowed.

“Good. I …” you cut yourself off with a yawn, “I don’t want to see Barcelona without you.” Your eyes fluttered gently.

“You won’t. I won’t let you. You’re stuck with me for life, amor.” You smiled softly at her words. You liked the sound of being with Ona for life. “Ve a dormir, amor. I’ll be here when you wake up.” You nodded and allowed yourself to slip into a gentle dream.

Arriving home, it was easier to avoid Ona than you thought. You were still on strict instructions to rest. Alexia had tried to force you to stay with her. When that failed, Lucy had tried. You liked your space. You liked your private time. You felt like you could never fully relax around people … except for around Ona - that voice in your head reminded you. No! You couldn’t allow that voice to win. You had a recovery to think of now. You had compromised a little bit, though. You lived in the same building as Ingrid and Mapi, so you gave them permission to get a spare key cut. This allowed you to have people constantly checking on you without feeling like a burden on them. Alexia wanted a key for herself, but she lived on the other side of town, and you didn’t like dragging her so far from her usual daily routine.

To be honest, you were unsure if you wanted to see Ona. Alessia had quietly told you that you wouldn’t calm down on the pitch until Ona held you. In the extra month you were in Australia, you had come to terms with the fact you were still in love with her. You had tried to deny it when you initially came to Spain. But now it was just a fact you had to live with. That night in the hospital was so incredibly awkward … strange … nice. She had stood in a training top you were fairly sure was yours once upon a time, head hung low as she picked at her nails. You wanted to bat her hands away, to tell her to stop, but she had sat too far and out of your reach.

“I’m telling you, Y/N, something’s wrong with Ona”, Hayley whispered to you in the bathroom. “I don’t know what’s wrong, but she won’t stop picking at her nails; she’s really quiet. Something’s not right. I think something may have happened during the break.” You sighed deeply. You also think something may have occurred whilst she was in Spain. You had picked her up from Manchester Airport, and you could tell instantly something wasn’t right. 3 of her fingers were wrapped in plasters, and the others looked just as sore. When you extended your arms out to hug her, she looked a little apprehensive but stepped into your embrace anyway. No matter how much you wanted to keep her in your arms, you stepped away after a few short seconds. You had never seen her so tired, so different, so … you weren’t quite sure what had happened. You kissed her forehead gently as you ushered her to the car.

It didn’t take long for you to find Ona – she was sitting in your cubby after all. Despite your concern, your heart couldn’t help but flutter as you recognised your number on the hoodie she was wearing.

“Me gustas en mi ropa,” You said as you crouched in front of her, hands resting gently on her knee. She didn’t smirk like she usually would. She didn’t react when you started tracing gentle shapes on her bare legs. She just kept picking at her nails. “Oni… lo que le pasó?” You asked in the gentlest tone imaginable. She just shook her head, wiping a stray tear away. “No … hey, hey, hey, no. Oni. Mi niña hermosa. Don’t cry.” You surged forward. “Please don’t cry.” You didn’t know how to comfort her. You had seen her angry, you had seen her scared, you had seen her frustrated. But you had never seen her cry before.

You had eventually coaxed her into going home. You had waited until everyone had left—Hayley hurrying people along to let you deal with the situation. The force with which she gripped your hand left a sour taste in your mouth. You had kept your hand in hers the whole journey home and into your flat. You led her to the sofa as you lay down, pulling her on top of you.

“Now …” You started, “I’m not going to make you talk to me. But I can tell something happened when you were in Spain. I want you to tell me, but I’m not going to force you. Whatever you want to share that’s entirely up to you. But please, Oni … I’m not going to judge you, or laugh at you, or hurt you for telling me anything. Un problema compartido es un problema dividido, right?” You whispered as your fingers slipped under her jumper.

It took a while, but eventually, she told you. You held her as she cried over the conditions in the Spanish camp. You held her as she recounted the story of her being forced from her bed at 5 in the morning for a run and not being allowed to stop until she threw up or passed out. You held her as she ranted about how mean the coaching staff were to Pina, and when she had stepped in to intervene, she had it twice as bad. You held her as she eventually slipped into a fitful reprieve from the nightmare she had just returned from.

But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t shake Ona’s voice from your head telling you, you weren’t could enough for Barca. If she thought that before your injury, what would she think about you now? You were looking at a year off the pitch, at least, let alone having to train in a new style and learn a new way of playing that could have you set back even further. It echoed in your mind before behind, when you looked at yourself in the mirror, when you were with the team as they tried to help you feel better.

Most days looked similar for you in the first month you returned. You were still in a cast and brace, so you couldn’t do much. The doctors - and Alexia - had told you how important it was to establish and stick to a routine. So, you did. You woke up at 8.30 every morning. There was training – you obviously couldn’t go, but since all your friends had that schedule to stick to, so did you. You would go into the bathroom and have a really awkward shower; more often than not, you would flood the bathroom, then get ready for the day. Lucy told you that you needed to change out of your pyjamas every day, so you slipped on loose shorts and a shirt – your ‘day pyjamas’ you had christened. You had breakfast with Ingrid and Mapi before they left for training, and then you sat on the couch. All day. With your mind slowly descending into chaos over everything that had happened. And then you would hear the conversations from outside that told you some of the girls were coming round to see you, and you plastered a smile on your face as you asked them about their day, and they would ask you about yours. On non-training days, you granted yourself a lie-in. Keira and Lucy would come by with pastries from the bakery down the round and fresh fruit for you to snack on. You would sometimes have a Lioness Facetime if everyone’s schedules allowed.

You had yet to go to a match or the training facility, watch a game on TV, or even just play Fifa. But that would come with time; you would have to go eventually because that was where the physios and trainers were. People thought you were reluctant to go because of what had happened. Which you were … a little bit. The main reason that made you nervous about going was Ona. A picture of her on your timeline had sent you into a spiral for a good few hours. You were scared of what seeing her in person would do.

You had seen the picture of her in the Champions League promotion. And she looked so good. You had stared for far too long at her beautiful smile that still took your breath away, her chiselled jawline that you used to pepper kisses across when you cuddled up against her, her veiny arms that had made you feel so safe and loved, her messy bun that you had jokingly begged her to teach you how to do, her freckled cheeks that would sport a soft pink hue every time you complimented her, the dimples you would poke at when she was trying to be angry at you but failing miserably.

“Great game today girls, you played fantastically. And well done to Ona.” You were standing next to her in the post-match huddle, she shyly groaned as her achievements were recognised in front of everyone.

“Mi Oni’s got her name on the score sheet,” You sang out as you walked back down the tunnel, arms wrapping around her waist. “We need to celebrate.” A round of cheers from everyone echoed the sentiment. Just as you were about to separate to go shower, you felt Ona squeeze you gently. “Hm?” You asked, scanning her features for discomfort.

“Could we do something … just us tonight?” As much as she loved the girls, she wanted a night with you. Alone. She looked so adorable as she quietly mumbled her desires to you.

“Absolutely we can,” your smile reassured her. You pressed your hands against her cheeks quickly before turning to head to the showers.

You didn’t even bother with an excuse when you messaged Lessi and Tooney.

Y/N: Sorry not coming tonight - other plans x

Tooney: Rude

Tooney: Do these other plans involve a Spanish defender???

Y/N: Maybe x

Y/N: She wanted to do something just us

Lessi: I want details! x

Y/N: Nothing’s going to happen

Y/N: U know we r just friends

Tooney: And I’m just friends with Joe :p

Y/N: Its just a MOVIE NIGHT x

Lessi: If u say so x

Tooney: stay safe x

Y/N: ffs and I do say so.

Y/N: text me when ur both home pls x

Lessi: Will do x

Your other plans involved very little deviation from your regular nights. She had cooked for you like always, serving up a delicious paella that had you begging her for cooking lessons. Over dinner, you relived her goal from your perspective and forced her to tell you what she was thinking when she sent it into the back of the net.

“Now that you’ve started scoring, you won’t stop. I’m telling you.” She had laughed at your promise. “I’m being serious here. We need to come up with a celebration for you.” She just hummed and kissed the top of your head as she gathered the plates and took them to the sink.

Later, you were lying on the sofa watching a Spanish movie she insisted on, telling you how it was a part of her childhood and she needed to share it with you. You weren’t paying any attention. You were far too distracted by her fingers running up your spine. It was driving you mad in the best way possible. Your ear was pressed against her chest, her heartbeat comforting and peaceful as you burrowed yourself deeper into her.

“Estás bien?” Ona asked, your movements catching her attention.

“Yeah.” You responded. “I’m really proud of you, you know that, right?” You shifted again, this time drawing yourself up to cage her in with your arms. The blush reappeared on her cheeks as you stared intently at her. God, she was so beautiful. “And I’m really happy you came to Manchester. You make everything better.” You told her honestly. She was getting overwhelmed. You could see that as she avoided your gaze. You gently poked the place where a dimple appeared when she smiled. “Oni …” you waited until she looked back at you. “Puedo besarte?” You said as you stared at her lips.

“Sí.” This wasn’t your first kiss, drunk or sober. But this time felt different. You couldn’t explain it. Her soft lips parted as you licked the seam of her mouth.

You continued to make out lazily on the sofa before Ona broke away for some much-needed air. You didn’t care, though. Your lips just moved to her neck – you were careful not to leave any marks, no matter how much you wanted to decorate the pale skin with dark splotches that claimed her as yours. She whimpered and whined underneath you until she was begging for more.

“Por favour. Do something. Anything. Necesito más,” she implored, hands tangling in your hair as you pulled away.

“Relajarse. Let me take care of you.” You sighed into her skin.

You're just a quick fuck. Easy. Nothing more to me. Her wicked words bounced around in your head. God, she had really ruined you. That was the first night you allowed yourself to truly feel everything, every emotion you had suppressed and bottled up for the last 9 months. It was painful. Raw. Terrifying.

At first, you were angry — so, so angry. Pure, unadulterated rage bubbled up and over the top of your carefully constructed walls. You threw a vase. It shattered into pieces like your heart had done all those months ago. It was satisfying, but you wanted more. You needed more. You ripped apart a cushion someone gave you as a housewarming present. You screamed and raged and shouted your emotions.

Then you cried. It started as a few lone drops that quickly became a torrent of unstoppable, hot tears. The sobbing hurt. It was painful and gut-wrenching. You had never cried like this before, and that scared you. These were the tears of someone heartbroken, and desperate. You cried so hard you thought you were about to throw up.

When you came to your senses, you were standing in the middle of the living room – how you got there was beyond you – feathers lightly floating around you, the wall had a slight dent, and someone was knocking frantically on your door. You didn’t move. If it was Ingrid or Mapi, they had a key. If it was Lucy or Alexia, they knew where to find the spare set. If it was anyone else, you didn’t want to see them.

Strong yet gentle arms pulled you to a warm body. The scent that engulfed you was soft and sweet. Alexia.

“Está bien, cariño. Let’s get you to bed, sí?” She was too gentle. Alexia didn’t do this kind of comfort. She offered practical solutions, honesty, and tough love.

“I… I’m scared,” You admitted as she helped you twist into bed.

“I know recovery can be scary, pequeña, but you will do it. It will be hard. But you can do it. Te lo prometo, puedes hacerlo. Everyone is going to help you. You can lean on us. We're here for you, bebita.” She was misunderstanding what you were referencing. You weren’t scared of recovery. You were physically healing well. A physio had been sent to your house from Barcelona to assess you at home to see whether you could start your rehabilitation at the club. She had asked you questions, and you had given the right answers. Your scars were healing well, and you had the expected range of motion for your injuries. Physically, you were right on track.

You were scared of your own mind. In the month you had been home alone, you had thought hard about anything. Ona had really broken you, yet you couldn’t let her go. What did that say about you? You had always thought you were stronger than that. You used to never understand what it was like when people would go back to an ex-partner who had broken their heart. Ona was never even officially yours, and she had managed to do so much damage.

This is becoming a lot more intense than I had planned ahahah. Hopefully, the next part will be out soon.

#woso #woso community #woso x reader #ona batlle x reader #ona batlle #woso imagine #woso blurbs #woso soccer #barca femeni x reader #barca femeni #fc barcelona #manchester united #man utd #man utd women #alexia putellas #lionesses #lionesses x reader #woso fanfics

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dragonnarrative-writes · 4 months

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Part 4 - Consequences (To Meeting Kyle For Coffee)

Let's keep this party going.

Slasher Handler Masterlist

NSFW under the cut.

CW: Under-negotiated kink, impact play (spanking with hand), use of gag, fear play, afab reader, feminine terms used for reader, brief manual penetration

The ride back to your apartment is silent. Eerily silent, because Simon is making so much noise. You can hear him breathing, deep and even. His fingers tap idly on the steering wheel and gearshift. The radio plays something jazzy, a singer who’s voice he likes crooning about being in love. He hums a couple of bars.

“How much trouble am I in?” you whisper, halfway home.

“That depends, luv,” he says. “Why’d you schedule to meet him this morning?”

You bite your lip, consider the consequences of lying. Decide to tell the truth. “You tell me you go to the gym on Tuesdays, but you don’t. You follow me to the park.”

Simon makes an amused sound. “Do I?”

“You make the dogs nervous,” you tell him. “And sometimes the squirrels run up from behind me on the path, if they’re not in a tree already. So… I thought I’d ask to meet him. I thought he wouldn’t say anything if you were right there. And,” you admit. “I thought you’d try to keep me from meeting him, if I told you.”

“So you did it, knowing it was against the rules,” Simon says, serene like a glacier.

“It’s not against the rules,” you point out, crossing your arms over your chest. “You said I have to keep my routine. Tuesdays are my mornings out of the apartment. You said not to do anything reckless, so I met an old friend at a coffee shop. You said not to do anything without your knowledge, and you have been going through my phone and reading my messages since before your last lesson. You knew, Simon Riley, and I haven’t done anything against the rules.”

By the end, your voice is high and frantic and there are tears welling up. You hate it. Hate that he loves your eyes full of tears, so you turn to face out of the window. You’re so tired. Staring down the inevitability of the push-pull of trying to keep control, knowing that the rules don’t really matter if he doesn’t want to play by them, you barely restrain a sob.

“Aw,” Simon drawls, and you can see his smirk in your mind’s eye. “What are those tears? Haven’t even punished you yet.”

When you do make it to the apartment, you’re slow to get out of the car. You dally before entering the building. You hesitate at the bottom of the stairs. You watch Simon watch you think about running. You shouldn’t run, you know, but you turn halfway, look back at the improbable escape route, each time. He tilts his head and gives a rough equivalent of an indulgent coo. You want to punch him in his smug face. You take the first stair.

Simon matches your slow pace, two steps behind and hugging the wall. Even if you didn’t know you were walking to your (hopefully) metaphorical death, it would be a deeply disturbing experience. When you’re not facing him, you almost can’t hear him. The stairs barely creak under his weight. Every now and then, you think you can feel him touch your back, your sleeve. You refuse to play that game with him. The refusal doesn’t make it feel less dangerous.

You stop at your door. Simon gives you a solid nudge toward his.

You’ve only ever been in his apartment once before. Four weeks ago. After the ski-lodge-turned-blood-bath.

Just like the first time, you’re surprised and disturbed by how normal it is. A mirror flip of your unit, the kitchen and living room are bland off white and beige. Simon shuffles you over to the big, brown couch, hand firm between your shoulder blades when your feet don’t want to move.

“Sit,” he says. So you sit. You hate how nice the cushions are. He stares down at you, head cocked, eyes cold, before stalking away into his bedroom.

The last time you were here, shaking and crying, he’d put a cuff around your ankle. You’d been chained to the foot of his bed, an anchor point under the couch, or, bafflingly, his own leg. The cuffs had been thick leather, with a very soft lining. You only tried to escape once.

It had been a miserable week.

When Simon emerges again, shutting the door firmly behind him, you think you recognize the brown leather strips in his hand. But when he holds it out for you to inspect, you feel the color drain from your face. One of them is a collar, with a shining silver tag. The other is a ball gag.

“I’m not wearing those,” you say, automatically, then cringe.

“I think you will,” Simon answers, “because if you don’t, your punishment will be doubled.”

You clench your jaw before looking up into his eyes. “That’s not fair. I didn’t break the rules.”

He chuckles, smooths a thumb over your cheek. “Stop being so cute.”

That makes you pause and narrow your eyes at him. You try again. “I don’t want to wear the gag.”

“Your apartment isn’t soundproofed, luv,” he points out, like he’s open to bargaining and being reasonable. “So unless you want to play here, in the guest room with Brandon…”

You try to snatch the collar and gag from his hand, but he catches your wrist, unnaturally quick. You glare up at him, anxiety roiling the coffee in your stomach. He caresses your face again. His hand is so warm, and his eyes are a frozen lake.

“Up,” he orders, forcing you to stand with an iron grip on your jaw. Instead of putting the collar on, he hustles you back out into the hall, then to your own door. Arches an eyebrow and says, “Well? Let us in?” like he doesn’t have a copy of the key, hasn’t been keeping you from opening your own door every day for the last month.

When you enter, he takes his time to shrug off his coat and boots. Lets you do the same. He tells you to drink some water, so you do. Dawdle by getting him a glass before following him to where he’s sat on your couch. He’s laid the collar on the arm of the sofa and is running his fingers over the gag when you approach.

“I’m going to spank you,” he says, matter of fact, without looking at you. “For drinking something offered to you by a man who knows how easy it is to poison a person.”

“It was fresh!”

“That silly, stupid little barista would have done anything Garrick asked,” Simon counters, drawing you into his lap. “Because Kyle is just that kind of man. And if you ended up in the hospital, he’d have unfettered access to you. And then you and I would have to be in a hospital again. Seems a bit soon to be repeating dates, don’t it?”

“I knew what I was doing,” you protest, but you don’t fight when he tilts your head to kiss the corner of your mouth.

“I know, you did, luv,” he agrees. “And I know Garrick - you’re not his type. But you still drank the coffee. And you still did something you knew I wouldn’t like. Spirit, not the letter, and all that. So I’m going to spank you. Then I’ll give you a reward.”

Your eyes snap to his. “R-reward?”

“Oh, I’ve got your attention now,” he chuckles. “Asked for advice for your man, didn’t you. No silly little articles about better blowjobs for you. Went to ask a killer about a killer, to help me find a hobby. Precious.”

You flush hot, all the way to your toes. “If he stopped, then you can.”

“He hasn’t stopped,” Simon says.

“He’s…” You frown. “He said he doesn’t do that anymore. He took up gardening.”

Simon wraps a hand around your throat, dead eyes boring into yours with a smile. “Not everyone likes going all the way to a ski lodge in the middle of nowhere, luvie. I wouldn’t’ve if you weren’t so damn sweet. Garrick works at a hospital because hobbies are so much easier in your backyard.”

He gives you a few quiet moments to think back, play Kyle’s words back in your mind. If you’re honest with yourself, it’s not a surprise. You’d hoped, and you heard what you wanted to hear.

“Open your mouth,” Simon instructs, when he’s done waiting.

“How will I safeword?” At his unimpressed stare, you double down.

“I’m not playing without a safeword. It’s bad for both of us.”

“You are the most stubborn, odd, little duck,” he says, and kisses the corner of your mouth again.

“I want to feel safe,” you insist, without pushing him away. You remember how his pupils had practically swallowed his irises once, before everything went wrong, when you told him he makes you feel safe. After a moment of thought, you add on, “Safer. Safe-ish.”

He arches an eyebrow. “You think you’re clever.”

You arch an eyebrow right back. “Pretty sure that’s why I’m getting punished.”

That gets him. Simon barks a laugh, and some of the tension leaves both of you. “Snap your fingers twice and I’ll check in with you.”

You snap your fingers twice. “And then you’ll stop?”

“If you’ve learned your lesson,” Simon answers cryptically, bringing the gag to your lips.

Simon being cryptic means you’re back on familiar ground, so you open your mouth. He dips his thumb in to press down on your tongue, unexpectedly, and doesn’t let you flinch away. When he leans in to lick into your mouth, you let him, even open your mouth a slight bit wider. He rumbles his approval, kisses at your upper lip like that, until your spit is dripping down his wrist. Then his thumb is gone and replaced by solid rubber that sits behind your teeth.

He makes quick work of buckling it in place, careful not to pull your hair or secure it too tight. His care is familiar, in an odd terrible way. Back when he was just your weird neighbor, he’d been very careful to never hurt you. In his apartment, he’d never hurt you except for very intentionally. Once, the third week after the ski-lodge, you’d cut yourself with some cardboard packaging and he’d been so gentle and meticulous in cleaning and bandaging you up. He’d choked you on his cock, later that night, the whole time holding your hand up and away to keep it from getting dirty.

Now, he holds up the collar for you to see the tag. It’s a heart. Now that you can see it properly, it’s not really a dog tag, more of a simple pendant. You’re looking at the back, where it’s simply stamped with his phone number. He flips it to show you the stone inlaid on the front, a pretty green. Then he wordlessly secures the soft leather around your neck.

When he’s done, he just breathes against the side of your face. His hands knead at your skin, one where your neck meets your shoulders, the other on your inner thigh. You feel where he’s hard against your hip. You shiver.

“Sweet, precious, clever thing,” he whispers, moving one hand to wrap entirely around your throat. “See the good in everyone. My kind-hearted girl.”

And then you’re up in the air, flipped, and over his lap so fast you get dizzy with it. Your heart rate rockets, and you try to get your legs under you. He’s there, of course, elbow between your shoulder blades and one hand yanking your pants and underwear down to mid thigh. You kick, uselessly, startled when he runs a hand over the sensitive place where your ass meets your thighs.

He starts without preamble, hand cracking down hard, but not as hard as you know he could. Tears instantly jump to your eyes, and you clamp your teeth down on the gag around a quiet groan. His answering groan is loud, appreciative. And then he hits you again, and again, and again.

Around the twelfth hit, you realize that he never told you how many he was going to give you. Your ass is on fire, tears and drool and snot streaming down your face. His hand is unrelenting. Worse, there’s no pattern, so the strikes are unpredictable. And you have no idea how long you’re going to be here.

You’re suddenly seized by a thought: Will he actually stop if you snap your fingers?

The first hiccuping sob shakes your body, and just like that, you lose control. You can’t stop sobbing, and he gathers you somehow closer into his body. He’s hard against your ribs. The hand not spanking you grips bruises into your opposite hip. He growls something you can’t hear over your own moans and sniffles, and then his hand is no longer spanking but rubbing. His fingers find where you’re slick, rub down and forward to find the bump of your clit.

You buck in his hands with a startled cry, and he slaps at you, gentle but startling. He hikes your hips up, and it’s awkward. You’re balanced in his arms, braced on his left leg and one foot when he pushes a finger into you. He bites, too hard, at your ass, and you squeal, thrash.

And then he’s taking his finger out, lowering you back down to his lap with gentle strokes up and down your spine. You get your breathing under control enough to hear him shushing you, praising you. You try to gulp air, eventually figure out how to regulate your breathing around the gag.

“Pretty girl,” Simon eventually coos. “See, didn’t need to tap out. Not that kind of lesson today.” When you whimper, he turns you and gets you settled on your back on the couch. He crouches down between the couch and the coffee table to wipe your eyes and nose with a couple of tissues. He leaves your mouth messy.

With a kiss to the apple of your cheek, he says, “I think you’ve learned your lesson.”

You nod with a whimper. You’re not 100% sure what lesson you’ve learned. But you’ve learned it.

“Good girl,” he praises. “Then lets get you ready for your reward.”

#dragonnarrativewrites fanfiction #cod #fanfiction #simon ghost riley #dark fic #simon riley x you #slasher handler #simon riley x you smut #manic pixie dream ghost

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mikuni14 · 5 months

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Honestly? The fact that two episodes in a row have hot making out scenes that turn out to be dreams DOES NOT bother me AT ALL. Why? Because Saint came up with a brilliant idea how to reconcile two contradictions: the plot and the needs of the masses. At this point in the story, Phaya and Tharn already being a couple and already having sex is simply illogical, it's too early. In fact, this is only episode 4 and 5, we're not even halfway through the series! On the other hand, Saint knows what the masses want (it's me, I am the masses). And we want smut, intimacy, who am I even kidding 🤷‍♀️ So how do you fit in hot scenes while maintaining plot continuity? ✨Fantasies✨

Saint, our genius and benevolent king, has done what I have praised him for from the beginning: he has given us what we want, he has given us A LOT of what we want. Evenly distributed. I mean.. each episode provides us with so much content!

And I fucking appreciate it 💖😤💖

#the sign the series #bl drama #thai bl #I love Saint ok

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capsyst · 5 months

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I am deeply touched that so many people enjoyed my little animation of Technoblade. I genuinely didn’t think that my post would get spread much, if at all, so thank you from the bottom of my heart for reblogging it and giving me such kind words.

While Procreate does include a playback feature, unfortunately the playback for how I animated this is 45 minutes long and well beyond the capacities of tumblr’s compression and limits. And since I don’t yet have a YouTube channel to host such a lengthy video, the best I can to is provide this quick and dirty breakdown of my process.

I animate the roughs in procreate and you can see that I am VERY loose with my initial pass. I often forget if I’m drawing him with 4 or 5 fingers, I changed his outfit halfway through the animation from a draping cape to a coat, and proportions fly all around. The most important aspect of this initial pass is just to get the timing and movement right.

I then do a second cleanup pass. It is not shown here, but this is what the lineart will eventually be based on. This pass is to refine the art and solidify it. Fix anatomy issues, those finger and clothing issues, and just generally work on sticking closer to the model I had chosen for my reference.

Then I do the lineart pass. I did this in Procreate Dreams by importing the animation as a video, lowering the opacity to 50%, and using it as a guide for the lineart. Here I refine the animation further and clean up any lingering problems.

Finally once the inking is done I color the animation. In Dreams I realized that groups are a godsend for this process. Every color was its own separate layer. But once I finished a layer I could group it together and Dreams treats it like it’s own singular track on the timeline. Then once I finished another color I would group those together with the group I already finished. And then again and again and so on until eventually I only had one layer for all the lineart and color. But if I ever needed to fix anything I could expand those groups and go directly to the frame in question. It’s a really handy feature!

Because he looks out the window at one point I wanted to have the light cast shadows on him. So I colored all the frames before and after the window in a darkened pallet, and the frames where he is at the window in the actual colors. Then I animated a shadow layer that I placed over those frames where he’s at the window at 30%.

For the background I drew an extra wide scene in Procreate and imported it into Dreams. I included an outside, and inside, and three curtains. Two closed, one open. With all of this in Dreams I then added the camera move, and a warp effect on the open curtain to make it seem like it was pulled open quickly. It was surprisingly easy to do!

As a final touch I added a reddish tint to the end when he goes full crazy.

If anyone has any questions about the animation process, or about Dreams or anything, please feel free to ask and I’ll do my best to answer as I can.

Again, thank you for enjoying this animation. I’m deeply touched by the response.

As an added bonus, here’s my 3 favorite smear frames!

#procreate dreams #procreate #animation #2d animation #procreate animation #hand drawn animation #dreams #technoblade never dies #technoblade #Minecraft #mcyt

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 2 months

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aita for asking my mum to clean out the kitty litter trays even though its usually my chore

i drove to doctors and work this morning, i worked 8.30 till 5 she worked 8.30 til 4 and drove home after her shift ended to pick up my dance clothes for me (i only didnt have them because i had to stay late at work since 3 people went home sick).

my friend cancelled on me for dance tryouts so i spend the afternoon crying and eventually choose to go anyway because i was excited for hiphop but by this point my head is pounding.

i get out of work, she drives me to dance and goes to get macdonalds while she waits for me to get out. halfway through dance they mention we are not even doing hiphop today not until next week (u have to pay for the tryouts btw)

i get out 7.40ish. on the drive home im thinking "fuck its almost 8 i havent done any uni study, (i have 2 lectures, a quiz and like 8 readings that need to be done today and tomorrow), i havent spent any time with our cats or cleaned their litter trays yet."

for reference we have new cats and are introducing them into a house with a dog so rn we have them in one room and let them out occassionally while putting the dog out back, while i clean out the litter trays and top them up every day, once a week we empty them completely and clean them out

so we get home and i say "would it be too much to ask if you could please do the litter trays tonight" i try to explain that i have a headache and ive still got a lot of uni homework to do and i havent spent any time with the cats so i'd play with them for a bit while she cleans the trays and then do my homework

immeadiately she starts yelling at me that shes tired, she hasnt been home from work all day, she did it last time, shes done so many favours for me already today and blah blah blah.

the way i see it, first, i clean the kitty litter trays every day and vacuum their room. she has literally never done this, she emptied out and washed a tray last week because i was sick and got home from work and passed out. i (a learner btw so im very stressed when i drive) drove us to her appt and then to work, i worked more hours than her today, i danced all night with a headache, i also have not been home all day, after being cancelled on and then them not even doing the type of dance i wanted to do and i still have to do uni work tonight so i dont think im the selfish one here.

but sitting in my cats room while they eat their dinner i can hear her storm about and slam doors because shes so mad at me but i dont understand am i in the wrong here?

also literally as i am writing this she comes out and goes "tell me when youve finished dinner so i can let the cats out. and DONT leave it too late" while my food is literally cooking as we fucking speak jfc.

i have a bit of a diary where i write when mum is mad at me because if i mention to her that she upset me it never goes well so i write it down to safely let those feelings out and as i was writing this one i just needed some clarity i really cant fathom any reason for her to be mad except egocentrism so perhaps an unbias outsider can shed light?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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respectthepetty · 5 months

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I think Mark is like… a vampire or something, does he ever sleep?

He is on every GMMTV SHOW!! I just keep thinking of that clip of him in school president when am he says “ I’m playing the vicar, the father and every other character” (or something like that! I forget!

so……. Would you like to Rate the shows Mark has been in? 👀

Anon, I cannot rate the shows Mark has been in because if Mark is in them, they have to be good, but I will rank them based on how much I loved Mark in them because I think he is beautiful AND talented (which is why this badminton world champion is on my list of GMMTV's best actors).

Ranked - Mark Pakin's Series

Honorable Mention - Cooking Crush - Dynamite

I think Aungpao is doing a great job as Dynamite in Cooking Crush, but I can't help but think what it would have been to see Mark in that role as originally intended. It sucks that Mark is overbooked, which I'm assuming was the reason he couldn't commit to Cooking Crush since he was filming Last Twilight, but it's a good problem to have for such a talented man, so I hope he continues to stay booked and blessing me with his face on my screen each and every year.

#8 - High School Frenemy - Chatjen

This show was barely announced, so it's possible it might not even make it to air, but that's not why it's last. The show is a remake of a Korean series, and word on the street is the original was not gay, like at all, which is wild since the entire pilot trailer for the Thai version seemed very homosexual to me! There was a rooftop and everything! But it also looks like our boy is about to be bullied, and I'm not here for it. Therefore, LAST!

#7 - Bad Buddy - Chang

Mark played in Bad Buddy? Notice that is a question and not a statement because, although I don't remember a lot of Bad Buddy because we have beef, I truly only remember Drake and Jimmy as friends since I wanted them to be a couple (Korn x Wai ghost ship!). I wasn't aware of either Marc or Mark playing Pat and Pran's friends. Mark was there when Pat got shot. Mark was there when they told Pran that Pat got shot. He is in the photo outside of the hospital room because Pat got shot, and I still am like, "Was Mark really in the show?"! I even had to look up what his character's name was on MDL. I still don't believe he was in it. I don't care what Our Skyy said. This is the Mandela Effect.

#6 - I Promised You the Moon - Mek

I do remember Mark in I Promised You the Moon, so this ranking is purely because I'm petty and got beef with this series, specifically Teh, which means Mark has to suffer too. Mark played Mek who was Teh's roommate. After Teh FUCKED UP, Mek was nice to him when he really didn't have to be because Teh was being an ASSHOLE to him, but that's why I loved Mek. He could've thrown hands with Teh in that room, but instead gave Teh some tough love by telling him his crying was annoying, and he needed to get it together. Then, he invited Teh to go eat with him. He still could've smacked Teh though and cemented this as Mark's number one role.

#5 - Last Twilight - Night

The only reason this is ranked this low is because I haven't had enough of him in the show. He is not the lead. He is a supporting character (AS USUAL, GMMTV!), so I can't expect him on my screen every single second, but I need far more of him in the last quarter of this series. Also, the show is setting up Night to be the cause of Day's accident, but it's too late for me to feel bad about any of this. I needed to know that information by episode three. Now we are over halfway done, Mork and Day are fulfilling the gay agenda, Phojai is about to get a rich husband, and Night is going to inherit a beautiful family, so let bygones be bygones, and GIVE MARK A LEADING ROLE ALREADY!

#4 - Only Friends - Nick

If I was really petty, this wouldn't have even been on the list because Nick should have been so much worse. He recorded Boston and Top having sex. He told Mew about Boston's non-consensual sex tape. He lied to Boston. And yet . . . I wanted him to do more! Nick could have blackmailed Top. Nick could've ruined Mew's life. Nick could've hurt Ray via Sand! Nick could've been a baddie, but instead he was a saddie. Mark finally got to kiss a homie, but at what cost? I feel Mark could've done so much more in this role. Honestly, all the actors could have, but they were held back, so here Nick sits in the middle. Not good. Not bad. Just average.

#3 - My School President - Thiu

This 'fit alone deserves our recognition because Mark was playing a high schooler yet looking too fine in this top. He needed to put that hotness away around those children. But in regards to his character, as you mentioned in the ask, he was EVERYTHING! He was trying to keep the student council solid since Tinn was too busy crushing on Gun. He was playing matchmaker. He was dating Por all season, and this is not up for debate. He was a director for the band's music video and was basically their manager. Homie was doing it all and still had time to look fine. What a guy!

#2 - Moonlight Chicken - Saleng

I wrote an ode to Saleng being my Thai primo. He lived for the chisme and was the biggest shit starter in the family, yet Li Meng called him first after the accident, and he was right there when their community mother passed away. Aof, who is behind Moonlight Chicken and Last Twilight, really let all the characters shine in this series, but Mark did amazing with the little amount of screen time he had, which gives me hope that his Last Twilight character will rise in the rankings as that series comes to a close. This role was so good that I was torn between this and the one I ultimately selected as number one, but honestly, both roles could be number one depending on my mood. Do I want family-oriented fun times Saleng or do I want . . .

#1 - The Warp Effect - Jedi

The entire cast of The Warp Effect was elite status. Every character was great. Every storyline was good. Every discussion about sex was outstanding. But Mark as Jedi lives rent free in my head, specifically the scene where after working out, he fucks his girlfriend from behind over the kitchen counter! Then, he experiences pain because he has a STI! This leads to an entire education about open relationships, sexual health, communication, and trans healthcare since his girlfriend is trans. Jojo was the screenwriter and director for both Only Friends and The Warp Effect, so I like that both of Mark's sexier roles are due to Jojo's vision, and I hope Mark gets to work again with either Aof or Jojo because Mark is at his best when he is allowed to play an adult man who knows what he wants and how to get it.

And believe me, he could get it.

#Mark Pakin #this man is beauty and grace #and he could slap me in my face #ranking his characters #because why not?

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biscuitblinkeu · 5 months

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Vanessa [4]

Park Chaeyoung x Fem!reader

Word Count: 2546

ToSumUp: Your department gets a gorgeous new coworker who’s oddly affecting everyone. Rosie recalls the deal she made with Ursula.

A/N: Ursula: Now sing! Rosie: Hit chu with that Lamborghini we goin vroom— (Think I said this before but I don’t own Disney’s TLM characters at all, just referencing them😭👍🏽)

“We got a new coworker today,” was the first thing Isa told you when you settled in your cubicle, a silly little grin on her face.

“Don’t you think it’s weird the way you’re always excited over this? I swear…” you murmured, shaking your head.

“Of course I am!” She protested, rolling her eyes. “It’s always nice to have a fresh face in the office— a pretty face, I’m hearing. The boys and girls are following her around like lovesick puppies.”

“Is that so?”

Isa groaned. “Would it kill you to be more interested?”

You motioned to the clock.

“Yeah, yeah, I know it’s early. You always act like a grouch this time of day. Oh, look! There they go— I said look— it's been like that all morning.”

You see, originally, you never planned to make the effort to turn your head and look, but Isa turned your face towards the scene anyway.

You squinted.

It was a few of your coworkers along with those from other fields, bustling and talking. Honestly, you never thought the tech department and the info department ever got along but there they were. It may be that they finally found something in common. Either way, they were crowded around the coffee machines, engrossed in noisy conversation. What was so interesting about that?

“I guess it’s weird seeing them getting along?”

“Well, yeah, but that’s not the point I’m getting at.”

“Mm, okay.” You turned back to your monitor. Isa too, realized it was time to actually get to work and begrudgingly left you alone, not after a huff left her mouth.

You were halfway done typing away at the Google Sheets in front of you by the time an unexpected email came in. You opened it up without looking at it, then blinked as four words appeared on your screen. It gave you a shock to your system.

Come to my office.

“What could she possibly want at this time?” You stressed, looking to Isa for answers.

She tried to reassure your nerves.

“But she never calls me to her office to tell me something, it’s usually over email. And who in their right mind sends an email like that with no context?”

“I have to agree that it’s weird there’s no explanation, but I’m sure it’s nothing. She wouldn’t fire the best worker in this unit.”

“I wasn’t even thinking about being fired, but now that you put the idea in my head...”

“No, you did that yourself. Like I said: you’ll be fine. Now go, it’s worse if you keep her waiting.”

You knocked three times before opening the dark oak door. Your boss, Mel, was very young for such a position, and that could be why you and her got along well. She sat in her chair, filling some papers and putting them in a drawer.

You received a business smile and a hand gesture to the seats. “(Y/n), please sit. Why do you look so tense?”

You let out a puff of air, not so gracefully plopping down in the leather seat. Your legs were shaking the whole way here. “You sent me an email containing only four words.”

“Right, I did.” She nodded, chuckling to herself. “It didn’t give you a heart attack, did it?”

“I’m surprised I’m not in the hospital,” you said bluntly, causing her to laugh.

“It’s good that you’re not. Believe me, it wasn’t my intention to scare you. I was preoccupied as I wrote it, and the person I was busy with is actually why you’re here.”

You raised a brow.

She folded her hands in front of her. “If you’re not already aware, there’s a new face in your department. To get to the point, I’d like you to show her how things work. I know you're a busy woman, but I trust you the most to do a good job.” She doesn’t mention that you seemed the most clear-headed, not easily swayed by batting eyelashes like your coworkers. Something strange was going on.

You sat up. “Supervise? I can do that. Is she here now?”

Mel shook her head, a rueful smile on her painted lips. “Unfortunately, she’s a slippery, little thing. I don’t know her current location, although, I’m sure you’ll recognize her when you do meet, she’s causing quite the stir and is usually at the center of it.”

When the office door closed behind you, you allowed your shoulders to slump. What were you supposed to do? Find her? Go back to work?

You didn’t really want to get involved with someone described as “slippery” and the cause of all events. This new coworker already seemed like a lot to handle and you haven’t even seen her face yet.

There was a buzz from your pocket, and you pulled out your phone. You smiled at the simple, grammatically incorrect text.

Rosie: Hi how you are?

You were able to turn your old phone back on and gave it to Rosie. You’ve been teaching her the basics— mostly things she can text you if she needs anything or simply wants to see how you were doing while you were away; how to call or FaceTime. It surely soothed your nerves, having a way for her to contact you. (You were glad she was getting used to texting you, even though it was emojis or gibberish most of the time). It would be easier for her to use the microphone dictation, something your five-year old niece often did, but speaking was out of the question.

You sent a voice message asking her if she ate, reviving a ‘yes’ and a few fried egg emojis shortly after. You asked her what she’s doing now.

Rosie: Listen music

You imagined her sitting next to your record player, legs curled up to her chest and phone in hand, and smiled to yourself. Another text appeared.

Rosie: you go now?

You pressed the voice record button and continued walking to the elevator. “Not yet,” you said. “Just a little longer, and I’ll be back.” Once inside the metal box, you acknowledged the woman in there and pressed the button that would take you back to the second floor, patiently waiting for the doors to close. Just as they slowly began to slide shut, a panicked voice reached your ears.

“Wait! Hold the elevator!” A little ways down the hall was a fancy-dressed man struggling to carry a box containing files and other documents, his glasses nearly falling off his face as he speed walked to the elevator. The woman next to you merely glanced at him before tapping away at her phone again, smacking on her gum like a horse.

You bit your tongue to keep from saying anything. Well, that’s rude.

Giving the woman a side glance, you stuck your hand out, the elevator doors gently bumping the sides before retracting. The man slipped past you and gave you a grateful smile, setting the box on the ground with a huff. The woman looked annoyed, but you ignored her.

“Thank you for waiting,” he breathed, turning to you.

“It’s nothing,” you said politely, moving back to your corner.

He straightened his suit, smiling still. “Well, I appreciate it. I’m Chan. You are?”

“(Y/n), nice to meet you,” you murmured. His smile was perfect, too bright, it made you want to cover your eyes. When he fixed his hair through the elevator reflection, you had the muddled thought you knew him from somewhere— probably from Isa. You couldn’t be bothered trying to figure it out though.

The elevator ride was mentally painful. Once the rude lady got off, it was just you and Chan. He talked so much. He clearly wanted to get to know you, and you couldn’t fathom why. All you did was hold the elevator doors. You were well aware of the looks you were getting as he walked you down the hallway together (turns out you were going to the same floor). The stares burned the back of your head, and you were eager to get rid of Chan since he was most likely the cause.

“I’ll see you around,” he had said when you finally parted ways.

You collapsed in your chair with a huff, laying your head on the table. What was Rosie doing now?

Isa entered your cubicle and patted your back, laughing. “You poor, lucky thing.”

You lifted your head up. “Lucky?”

“Lucky,” she repeated. You watched the look lighten her face— she was about to gush. Bright eyes, teasing smile, it’s coming. “You knew who that was right?”

You blinked. “Who?”

She shook you. “The guy? Chan? I’ve mentioned him multiple times, woman!”

“Oh,” you said. “What about him?”

“I was so surprised seeing the two of you walk down here, I didn’t know you knew each other.”

“We don’t,” you shook your head. “I just held the elevator door open for him. I don’t know why he walked with me.”

Isa sighed, if she told you he had interest in you, you would deny it flat out, like you’d do with anyone. You had little self awareness, it frustrated her to no end. Didn’t you know you were attractive?

Rosie sat curled up by the window, looking outside. It’s something she always does when you’re not here, or when she’s thinking.

Something just didn’t feel right today, and that it has to do with what’s happening under the sea. It’s been a little over a week since she left.

She came to the surface to observe the humans, to figure out what’s so bad about them, why her father harbors such animosity towards them. She was aware her mother died by humans, she was there when it happened— she saw. However, she doesn’t think they’re all bad.

Some of them are compassionate, like the man and his daughter who took her in and gave her clothes the first day she set foot in New York. She probably would’ve stayed with them, they would’ve let her, too, if not for his wife kicking her out. It was all a huge misunderstanding.

But then she wouldn’t have met you. Just thinking about you makes her heart pound in her chest, and she finds herself smiling.

It faded when she remembered the deal she made with her Aunt to come here. It was suffocating living there, and out of desperation she made the deal to get away from her life in the water. The details of the deal are vague, she doesn’t remember the whole conversation.

“You have one month. If you fail to… you’ll belong to me,” Ursula told her sternly, her tentacles wrapping tighter around her. “Are you ready to give it up?”

Rosie bit her lip and looked to the side. “If I become human, I’ll never be with my sisters or father again.”

“That’s right, but you’ll have your humanity. You’ll have your...”

“My...?”

“Yes. You’re thinking hard, I can tell. Life’s full of tough choices, isn’t it?” She laughed, then her eyes widened. She let go of Rosie and twirled around, suddenly youthful in expression. Her eels followed her, passing through Rosie’s sides with a snicker. “Oh! And there is one more thing: we haven’t discussed the subject of payment. You can’t get something for nothing, you know.”

Rosie shook her head, she had no money, nothing of real value. “But I don’t have—”

“I’m not asking much, just a little token— you won’t even miss it.”

“What is it?”

“Your voice.”

Every time she tried to remember, the thought disappeared. It was worrying. Then, there was her father; what was he up to? She knew he was enraged. It won’t be long before he sends someone after her— if he didn’t already.

“I need coffee,” you stated, making your way to the machines.

You leaned on the counter, watching the brown liquid drip into your mug with a neutral expression. You added creamer and caramel, deciding you wanted your coffee sweet today. You heard a commotion to the side of you.

“it’s not supposed to be like this; won’t you all just stop following me?” Someone murmured under their breath. They were clearly exasperated, and the voices became more distinct as they walked closer towards you.

“Vanessa, please let me help you with that.”

“I can show you where to go.”

“Let me take those for you.”

The woman clutched the papers to her chest, effectively wrinkling them as her jaw clenched in irritation. She didn’t sign up for any of this— she was here for one reason. “You’re all…very kind, but can’t you see I don’t want help? I can— umph!”

A body bumped into you just as you turned around, the jerk causing your mug’s contents to splash your chest. The brown, piping hot liquid seeped into your white shirt, and the moment it touched your skin you hissed, immediately pulling the wet fabric away from your skin. You scowled, moving back to the counters.

You heard a gasp, followed by a feminine “I’m so sorry! Here, let me…” although it barely registered when you were too occupied trying to get paper towels out from the roll. You began to messily wipe at it, hoping the quicker it dries, the cooler it’ll get.

Soft hands pulled your own away from your shirt and began dabbing at the stain with a dry cloth (where’d that come from?), making you stare at the owner. Long, dark brown hair obscured your view, but you saw a flicker of pale, green eyes.

You blinked owlishly, embarrassment heating up your neck and face. “Uh, who are you?”

“Vanessa,” she murmured, glancing up at you. She stood up and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, looking apologetic. “I'm so sorry about that, I should’ve watched where I was going..”

You were a movement away from gaping at this woman— she was beautiful. (If femme fatale was a person, really). When you remembered to respond, you shook your head, grimacing. “No, it's okay, I wasn’t paying attention all that much either.”

She nodded, and when she spoke again, your heart skipped a beat. Her voice was low, smooth, rich with a hint of an Australian, and when she spoke, you found yourself unable to focus. Her voice was like a lullaby.

What was going on? You pinched yourself.

Vanessa reached up, playing with her necklace— it had a shell design and seemed to glimmer in the light. “And what is your name?” Her gaze was intense and a smirk played at the corner of her lips as she waited for your response.

“(Y/n),” you replied, watching as she rubbed her fingers across the shell. Your mind began to feel foggy—

“(Y/n),” she repeated, smiling. She looked pleased. “I finally—“

“(Y/n/n)! You got a notification; she texted back!”

You blinked, turning to Isa’s running form. She stopped beside you, side-eyeing Vanessa. “Come on, I’ll give you a new shirt,” Isa began tugging you along.

“It’ll be nice to work with you!” Vanessa yelled after you.

Isa scoffed under her breath (something you didn’t hear).

“Work with me?” You wondered out loud. Then it came to you that she was who you were supposed to supervise.

Would you like to continue?

#biscuitblinkeu #blackpink x reader #fanfic #blackpink #fem reader #rosé x reader #rosé x fem!reader #park chaeyoung x reader #park chaeyoung x fem!reader #the little mermaid.biscuit

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ikemenlibrary · 5 months

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Now announcing.... 'My Ikémen Valentine' Gift Exchange!

A sweet and spicy holiday to celebrate with your true love

The fifth installment in the Ikémen Gift Exchanges hosted by @ikemenlibrary. This one’s a bit different, as it’s not for a specific fandom, but instead, a romantic holiday!

This is open to all of the current Ikémen games released in English servers!

Main Info:

Event: Gift Exchange

Fandom(s): Ikemen Vampire, Ikemen Sengoku, Ikemen Prince, Ikemen Revolution

Creation time: January 19 - February 16 Gift sharing: February 17-18

You can sign up for the exchange here

The deadline to submit your submission to join the exchange will be due on January 12.

You will have a month to create a Valentine’s gift for your recipient and an Ikémen character that they have given to you out of their list.

If you're interested in joining, please make sure to get your answers completed and sent in before January 12. You can edit your sign up form after it’s been submitted, but please make sure to let me (the host) know if you’ve done that, as I do not get notified when that happens and I want to make sure everyone’s happy with up to date information. Once the deadline passes, I will turn off the link to edit or submit so if you have any problems after then, please contact me directly.

Once I get everyone’s information organized and sorted, I will be reaching out to everyone individually on January 19 to let you know who you’ve been assigned to create for, as well as any extra information to share at that point in time.

When your application has been accepted for the gift exchange, I will reach out with a link to join the Discord server (if you aren’t already in it from previous exchanges).**

Please let me know if you have any questions! I can be reached via Tumblr DM or if you have my Discord from previous exchanges, you may find me there as well <3

Disclaimer: **Please note before signing up that I do have a Discord server that I encourage everyone to join. We’d love for all the participants (myself included!) to get to know one another, work together, and potentially help each other out within the event. We also have some fun bots to play with!

If using Discord is something you are absolutely not comfortable with, please message me before you send in an application so I am aware that you will not be joining and can mark it down on my end for organization purposes. (If I’ve spoken to you about this before, just specify in the sign up sheet, there’s no reason to need to reach out again!)

Below the cut, there is a new update to the rules I’ve previously had in place. This is also reflected in the sign up sheet. Please let me know if you have any questions!**

Can’t wait to see you all soon!

**I just wanted to give a quick update on the rules, as I have changed a few things slightly this time around.

The minimum word requirement for fanfiction updated from 800 to 850 words

The fan art requirement has been updated from being lined with a colored drawing, to also require a background as well (this can be a solid color, or scenery, or whatever you decide. The background just cannot be white (of course, special cases may occur and I will leave it up to the artists stylistic choice))

This time around, you cannot select specific characters from a list who you aren’t interested in creating for. That would be too messy with 4 fandoms. Instead, you will get more options of characters to create based on your choices you fill out on the sign up form

You must be ready to share progress during the halfway check in point via Google Drive/Docs if you are a fanfiction creator. If you do not have access to using one of these, please send me whatever you have during the check in, and I will copy it into my Google Drive. This is so if there becomes a time where you lose your progress on something other than Google, there will still be a copy existing, even if it doesn’t completely reflect your current progress.

This will all be reiterated in the information key you will be given at the time assignments go out, so don’t worry about remembering this for the time being

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