#((AHAHAHA WHY DO I KEEP DOING THIS))

[harmonysanreads]

@stickyspeckledlight

Harmony, how do you see yourself as a yan? Totally not ripping off another anon’s big brain thought—

Uh oh.

Pining from the distance 70% of the time because I don't have the energy to approach people /j

I think, the hardest part in this ‘consideration’ is getting me to like someone to that degree. I have a strict criteria for who I allow to get close to me and also tend to lose interest quickly if even one of those conditions aren't met. Call me an Aventurine for this, but it's sort of an ‘all or nothing’ ; specifically in the romantic area. Which is definitely why I don't have any practical experience in this field and the worst part? I'm fine with it :>

But, people have mentioned that when I really like someone as a person/platonically, it becomes pretty obvious. I tend to do things I normally wouldn't just for them, e.g. I'll approach them first, look for them when they aren't present, try to remember their birthday (I have a hard time remembering dates), get them a gift at least once in half a year, engage in small talk, defend them if someone's targeting them, will share my personal belongings with them, gossip with them and just overall try to make them feel special (huh, no wonder), I suppose. Maybe after I get a job, there'll be something more to the itinerary.

I will classify myself as a ‘subtle yandere’ for now, definitely has the potential to do something drastic and might do something drastic if snapped or if the conditions are met. What are the conditions? ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

[poni-island-kahuna]

Alola Rotomblr!

Rotomblr. I am Hapu, Kahuna of Poni Island. It has been suggested to me that I try to socialize with others online; while I initially assumed this impossible due to my various errands–tending to the farm and also my duties as Kahuna–both of my parents agreed the idea had merit, even if it would use some work. My Trainer Card is below, since I am not sure how many people outside of Alola will know me.

Also apparently they have technology that translates text to speech and my father was able to get an earpiece for me to use, so I can talk while things are slow in the fields too! Speaking of, both of my parents will be on this account as well; I will let them introduce themselves while I take care of some of the more laborious work here with Mudsy.

Oh wait we’re on here too–Hi there! My name is Gerbera, or just ‘Bera. I’m Hapu’s father, and a botanical researcher on Akala Island! Which does sadly mean I’m not at home too often, but I drop by when I can!

Alola everyone! I am Leilani, or Leila for short. I’m Hapu’s mother and handle some of the bigger political matters of Poni Island, and Alola with the other Kahunas, as Hapu’s representative. Even though she is Kahuna now, the three of us agreed it would be wise to give her some help with matters outside of battling or tending to the gardens here.

Bera and I will just mostly be keeping an eye on things and only pop up if Hapu needs something clarified.

((OOC under the read more))

((Overall unreality warning for this blog))

Guess who fell face first down that slippery slope again, it's me!! Unlike the other two, this one has been sitting in the back of my brain for a while and was a little slower to come about, hence why I didn't put up a poll.

… that and once I saw the Alola muses crawling out of the woodwork I knew who I wanted to be once I gave into peer pressure.

But anyway! Name is Lyra, age 29, she/they. I will be following from @batscrem since this is a sideblog; anything said OOC will be tagged as such and in double parentheses ((like so.)) 

This will be a low-stakes blog; I don't have the time or emotional capacity to put characters in high stakes, so please respect that.

Should also say that since I haven't played USUM, this account will be set after the events of Sun and Moon. Meaning no recon squad or… whatever the heck happened in Ultra Sun/Ultra Moon.

In-character posts from Hapu will be under the tag "Hapu Speaks". Her parents speaking up will be tagged "Gerbera Speaks" and "Leila Speaks" respectively.

And yes, Hapu's parents are characters on here as well because Hapu is a Minor and they are here to remind you of that. No NSFW will be tolerated on this blog.

Like Hassel, this won't be a super busy blog and I'll most likely be on @underground-boss-clay, but I will answer questions when I have the time and/or energy for them.

[mimi-cee-genshin]

how would you describe your writing style? what do you like about it? — @milkstore

LOL. You know I've been seeing this question around and wondered how I would answer it. But you actually asked me. 😂

I'm having a hard time thinking about this because I've been thinking about how I want to improve. Like... I think the things I think I'm good at isn't really a style? Maybe? Like plotting and character building isn't really a writing style? Idk lol.

I'd say my writing is concise and not a lot of fluff. Like if I'm skimming paragraphs in my own story while rereading, I edit it out. And I like my flow and pacing (unless I get lazy and get tired of editting lol)

I also think I've gotten better seamlessly weaving a character's backstory throughout a fic. Apparently one author's advice is to figure out the backstory, put in a drawer, then don't look at it again. lol. I don't go to that extreme but I understood the idea behind it. And I feel like how I structure my fics is influenced by Korean dramas and webtoons lollll. At least for the longer ones. Like giving hints to a character's backstory and then revealing the full picture just before the climax of the story lol. Also having fluff at the beginning of the story before getting to the angst.

[tirednapentity]

I dunno man, maybe I’m just sick and tired of realizing how royally fucked I am in every aspect of my life and how badly I need to turn things around without actually knowing how to, while also constantly doubting myself. Or maybe I just haven’t slept in a while. Who knows.

[hecksupremechips]

Kinda homophobic that they gave Zach and Rebecca alternate deaths to account for the possessed Hannah route but they didn’t do the same for Marianne 🤨

[variantia]

BELLUM.   *flops down* hey hi how we all doin we vibin we chillin we relaxinatin

[starvail]

you just lost the game

narumi gen / gn!spouse!reader

synopsis : he’s made a recent discovery that for some reason, when you're the one doing his gacha pulls, his account wins the 50/50, so of course he's gonna abuse your luck for all it's worth.

content : only crack, gender neutral reader, reader works in jakdf, jenshin = genshin btw, narumi should have his own warning, narumi and reader are married (to the chagrin of the defence force), brief mentions of gambling, brief mentions of divorce.

words : 1k

a/n : sorry if you expected longer lol, think of this as a lil warm up before we really get into this series. also apologies for the one day delay, i came home from a surprise bottomless brunch and ahahaha...... i think we all can imagine how that ended up....

part one of 'a cheers to our youth'

It’s not until the time reaches two-thirty in the afternoon do you think to yourself that maybe it will be another peaceful day in Japan.

That is until rapid thumping of footsteps can be heard making their way to the Operations Room before someone slams both of the doors open, almost hitting a few operators that were unfortunate enough to be going on their break.

It was Captain Narumi Gen of the First Division in all his... very sweaty glory.

Hair sticking to his forehead with sweat, he’s frantic in the way that he repeatedly yells for your name and demands where you are.

Something in the pit of your stomach is telling you that something is wrong. But for some reason, it’s not the familiarity of dread that twists your insides with foreboding.

Something is definitely up.

You make your presence known and stand in front of him, hands in your lab coat pockets as you watch Narumi gasp for air, his back hunched over and hands on knees. You look down at him with a side eye, there is no way that one of the top protectors of Japan is out of breath running from where you assume is his 'claimed room' in HQ to Operations.

He grabs your shoulders with the kind of desperation that makes something crawl up your spine. "Thank God you're here!"

Okay, maybe this idiot is actually being serious for once.

"Is there an emergency meeting that we need to attend?” You shift his weight so that he has his right arm slung around the back of your neck.

You're rubbing soothing circles up and down his spine and he shakes his head for a no. By now, the entire room is listening in on the conversation.

“A kaiju attack that our sensors haven't picked up? Infiltration of the base? What's the damage? C'mon, work with me here, Stupid."

"Even worse..."

Narumi finally lifts his head up to look at you, red eyes peaking through his black and silver bangs. Anticipation rises and someone in the room gulps loudly.

You hope that the General Commander has sent out a few platoons already to assess the problem.

Has a kaiju alarm been sent out already? Are the civilians going to be okay? Why is this dumbass not changing into his-

"This limited character in Jenshin is leaving in five minutes, I need you to do my pulls for me!"

Narumi pulls his phone out of his pocket and shoves it right in your face.

"...What?"

You smack his arm away so that you don't go cross-eyed and you can only stare at the screen in disbelief.

He flicks some of his hair back. "Y'see, thanks to my spectacular observation skills and analytic abilities..."

As per usual, you drown him out.

There is no way that this guy is being genuine right now.

There is no way he barged in here just to gamble, on company time, no less.

"...coincides with the times that you do my pulls..."

You look away from the screen to observe him.

Narumi is animatedly flapping his free arm around like those inflatable tube men outside car dealerships, while the other keeps the phone steady.

"...not a coincidence, therefore you, my dearest..."

You look back at the phone.

The game character is staring at you, hauntingly.

He's being dead serious.

"...extremely lucky!"

Your eye twitches and you grit your teeth. 'This guy sure does love listening to the sound of his own voice...'

Next thing you know, his phone finds its way to the palms of your hands, and him ushering for you to start.

Still too flabbergasted, too appalled, too dismayed to even comprehend what you were doing, your finger mindlessly presses a button that says '10x Draws', and a golden glow flashbangs your vision.

Is this what your life has come to now?

Being used, being taken advantage of, all for your luck?

Narumi takes the phone back and sends you a triumphant look, as if he didn't just send all personnel in the room into a crippling mental spiral a few seconds ago, and is quick to gaze admiringly at the new character displayed on his screen, as if hyper focused.

"Thanks, Babe. You're a real life saver, y'know?"

It infuriates you how he sounds giddy, but you don't say that aloud, deciding to stew in your internal displeasure.

You mirror his smile and Narumi stays none the wiser to the flashing images behind your eyes of the numerous ways you can dispose of his body.

"See, this is why it's so great being married to someone as lucky as you. Pfft, and those old geezers say marriage is hard." At that moment, as if some higher being wanted to personally laugh in your face, Narumi readjusts his grip on his device and his wedding band shines from reflected light coming from the control monitors .

Your own ring burns at the realisation: you're legally stuck with that for the foreseeable future.

s n a p .

("I'm not the only one that heard that, right?" "Did that sound come from the Head?" "Nah, I definitely heard something too." "If Captain doesn't leave now, Head is gonna force us to help them erase the evidence...")

"Anyways, imma bounce. Gotta grind out the rest of their weapon mats." He carelessly throws up a peace sign without so much as a glance at anybody else, let alone you, and the operations room stays quiet when their Captain leaves with a newfound skip to his step, whistling in tune with the game's music.

Everyone watches on as you take a few deep breaths and walk back to your control panel, landing harshly into your swivel chair with your brows furrowed and a frown that could rival the General Commander's.

Those close enough can hear your muttered curses, "I'll show him. 'Japan's Strongest Anti-Kaiju Combatant', to hell with that! I'll show how hard marriage can really be. 'Another peaceful day in Japan', I should have kept my damn mouth shut."

Your fingers type against the keyboard with a new-found aggression, and soon enough, documents are displayed on the big screen of your monitor. They read 'Divorce Application and Proceedings', in bold font.

'Good luck, Captain Narumi,' the operators all think in unison.

[ravens-dagger]

Why yes I love being not even a thought in people's minds who say they're my "family" that really makes me feel great after an absolutely dogshit day

[devilfic]

❝late-bloomer❞

plot: you've never been kissed before. on a completely unrelated note, what if your best friend offered to be your first? pairing: tasm!peter parker x gn!reader. cw: post-tasm 2, gwen stacy mention, angst, self-deprecating thoughts about being undesirable and insecurity in love, best friends to wouldn't you like to know, eventual fluff, attempts at andrew garfield accurate rambling, he definitely talks you through it I mean who said that. words: 4.3k.

a/n: entirely self-indulgent because I wrote this after crying over being a late-bloomer for an hour ahahaha

Peter is reading something for research when you suck in a breath and finally ask, "What was your first kiss like?"

You hear his voice die in his throat. The small whispering of test results and calculations fall short, but you don't dare to look back. You're hunched forward so he won't see the way your eyes burn and brim with tears unshed because if he did, he'd ask about it and then you'd really start crying. Instead, you busy yourself with your phone, idly scrolling as if your question was pure curiosity alone.

You watch his ankles uncross, hear him sit up and then lean against the headboard again, fumbling for your train of thought, "Uh... sticky, 'cause I was six," Peter laughs, "You should know. You're the one who kissed me."

No matter how many times he tells you this, you can't remember the day you'd been so bold as to plant one right on Peter Parker's lips. You felt like you'd remember that, but you'd been such an impulsive child back them. Bolder. Thicker-skinned.

But Peter remembers, and so does Aunt May who swears up and down that she'd caught it on camera ("If only I could find that damned photo album"). You're the only one who doesn't. It's like it never happened, "No, God... no. I mean like your first real kiss."

"Like with tongue?" You hear the humor in his voice and even your sullen mood doesn't stop you from smacking his knee. "I dunno what you're talking about. That kiss was real to me."

"I'm serious, Pete."

He hums. You're so, so tempted to look back and see what he's thinking, but it would give you away too easily. "It was... it was a kiss. I mean, Gwen- you know. You know. I was crazy about her. I didn't think I just... kissed her."

"How did it feel? Do you know?"

"I felt like I needed to do it. I felt like if I didn't, I'd throw up. Not actually, just... like I'd explode with all the feelings I had for her."

Your finger hovers over a tweet. In your wondering about that feeling of almost nearly exploding, you try to picture that rooftop kiss that Peter had relayed to you between classes, with hushed whispers and childish laughter. It was windy, and I was breathless, he'd said, and I wanted to lay myself bare. And I just... pulled her in. Shot a web and swept her up and kissed her. I think I've lost my mind. You remembered pressing your back against the school lockers to cool yourself as you imagined the scene, the steps it took for you to settle the uneasy churn in the pit of your chest. The euphoria and panic upon realizing that your Peter was growing up.

You felt overwhelmed just imagining it. You barely hear Peter ask why you want to know. "No reason. Was just curious."

You think that Peter accepts that as good enough reason because the room is silent again. You keep scrolling, keep taking subtle deep breaths to keep the tears at bay. You see a picture of a couple on your timeline and scroll faster.

A few minutes of peace pass before Peter broaches the subject again, "What about you?"

"Hm?"

"I don't think you've ever told me about your first kiss."

Your shoulders tense. No good effort hides the strain in your voice, "I haven't?"

A beat passes. You glance over your shoulder and see Peter staring right at you, his lips upturned in a small, resting smile, but his eyes are inquiring. He's trying to read you. Perhaps he's just noticed the heavy cloud hanging overhead. "Nope." He pops the "P". He's waiting.

You could lie. You could say it was Flash Thompson who stole it, mention that field trip to the zoo in middle school when he'd sneaked next to you at the peacock exhibit and pestered you about you and Peter. Peter wouldn't question Flash about it. Even if they'd made amends, any conversation about him would send him over the edge with memories of his childhood bully and how much he pitied you for having your first kiss with him. And all of you were far too old now; Flash Thompson had gone to another state to play football the minute he got his diploma. It'd be so inconsequential, such an easy lie.

But the longer it takes you to deliberate on it, the worse it makes you look. You should've offered up an answer easily, jovially, unbothered. It should be inconsequential. Anything more and Peter would call your bluff because he knew you better than you knew yourself sometimes.

At some point, you feel the brush of a lone finger at the base of your spine and it startles you. Peter's slipped his finger under your shirt, stroking along the middle of your back, "I won't laugh. If that's what you're thinking." He says softly.

Of course Peter wouldn't laugh at you. As much as your relationship was teasing, he knew where you were tender.

But it wasn't laughing you worried about.

"I know." You say, in lieu of a real answer. You fear you've given yourself away.

Now there are two fingers stroking your skin, "You don't... you don't have to tell me, if you don't want to," but you can hear the discomfort in his voice when he says it, like the thought that it's something you don't want to tell him concerns him, "it's up to you."

Just lie. Your breath shudders and immediately you regret it. There's no way he hadn't heard that.

Before you can recover, you're feeling the heat of his entire hand on your back now as it slips further up, as he sits up in bed beside you and rests his chin on your shoulder. The closeness of his breath makes you feel claustrophobic all of a sudden, "Hey, hey. I'm sorry. Did I push? I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

You struggle to shake your head, but now your eyes are burning again and you don't think you can stop the tears this time, "You didn't." You insist.

"You're crying, bub," he laughs (not mockingly, never mockingly, never when you cry) and reaches a thumb up to brush away the first warm tear, "what's wrong?"

There's a million things you could say. I've never been kissed before, I don't know what it feels like to be longed for like that, I want to be longed for like that, why haven't I been longed for like that? But it all feels so heavy. Peter picks his chin up to kiss your shoulder and that really does it, "It never happened."

Peter's lips still against your skin. Their warmth slowly peels away, though you feel his breath ghost over the curve of your bone, "What hasn't?"

"A kiss. A first kiss, Peter. I've never had one."

"That's..." Peter sounds almost shocked, disbelieving. He never picks up that thought.

You turn your head away and toss your phone onto the bed, no longer interested in pretending you could distract yourself with anything else. You try to shrug your shoulder out from underneath Peter's mouth but he's quick, the hand at your back locking around you and you can't escape him even though you want to, even though you need to get away from his sweet smile and lovely heartbeat that thuds a little faster against your side.

It was already so much to tell him you hadn't had your first kiss yet, to admit to your best friend who—despite popular Midtown High opinion—has always been so irresistible to lovers, that you haven't gone as far as something so... simple. Something teenagers running your old stomping grounds have probably experienced ten times over by now. You don't think you can handle his pity too, "Peter, please."

"There's nothing wrong with that. Nothing at all. Everyone moves at their own pace."

You hiss through your teeth. You don't mean to, but the spite overwhelms you like red hot heat for a minute, "It's easy to say that when you've done it already."

You catch Peter's eye and immediately regret it. His untamed brows are drawn together, expression more analyzing than pitying. Even though you're brimming with feelings, he seems as if he's trying to wade through them, search for the gnarled root at the center of it all.

Then, and he says this so carefully that the meaning takes a moment to catch up with you, "There's nothing wrong with you."

It's the sincerity that does it. You shove his hand off of you, jerk away from him in a scramble to stand, but Peter is fast and lithe and he's always been two steps ahead of you even before the bite. He's up on his feet before even you are, coming to stand in your way when you go to grab for your bag, "Peter, move."

"Look, can we... can we talk about this?"

"I really don't want to. Move."

"Why are you shutting me out?"

"Because I want to go home. Move."

"Is it because of what I said?"

"Yes!" You blurt, growing frustrated the longer he blocks your path, "yes. Because I'm sick of being told there's nothing wrong with me when clearly..." Your voice tapers off, afraid to give him the reason he needs to worry about you, "Please. I'm just tired. It'll go away on its own, it always does, I just can't be here right now."

The standoff between you two lingers, feels like you might have to fight him just to escape. It takes everything in you just to keep eye contact with him and not burst into tears.

Peter clearly doesn't want to let you go. You can see that genius brain of his running every possible scenario in his mind in which he convinces you to stay, cry it out, leave happier than you came. None of them come soon enough. You brush past him when he realizes he's got nothing, and even the hand that grabs for you is halfhearted, shrugged off with little force.

"I'll see you later, Pete."

You let his front door shut on its own.

It hasn't been great.

What typically took a few hours to shake off had settled over you like a dark cloud ever since you'd stormed out of Peter's place. Even though you texted him like everything was fine (and dodged any phone calls so he wouldn't hear the truth with those freakishly good best friend senses of his), you had yet to see him again. Had yet to let yourself be seen.

You told yourself that it was just you missing Peter, and you believed that to be true, but you also believed that when he looked you in the eye and told you "there's nothing wrong with you", you hadn't been prepared for the nakedness of it all. He'd dug deep, right to the source. That kind of thing was hard to move past.

So you avoided him. If he came by your place, you pretended you weren't home. If he showed up at your work to take you to coffee, you lied and told him you had plans with a coworker. It had been several days now and you felt more and more cowardly by the minute.

It was Peter. Of all people, it was Peter. Your best friend. You could tell him anything (most things, some kept a little closer to the heart). You should be able to.

And it was silly. Being embarrassed about not kissing anyone. Plenty of people were in the same boat as you and they didn't ice their best friend out about it.

Ugh, now you were just making yourself feel worse.

You'd had enough. You'd end this pity party today. As you make your way through your apartment door, you promise yourself that after you've showered, after you've made yourself a filling dinner, after you've settled into bed, you'd call Peter and ask him to meet for pizza this weekend. You'd talk like civil adults who understand that life isn't a race. You'd share your couch, laugh about the whole thing, and maybe, just maybe, the hollowness in your chest that longed for someone's desire to fill it would finally-

He's sitting in your kitchen.

Legs dangling off the island, mask rolled up to his nose, and a spoon clattering out of his mouth and into a bowl of ice cream. Your front door shuts gently behind you.

You stare at each other for a few seconds. Then you glance through your bedroom door, cracked open just enough for you to see the breeze rustling your curtains. You turn back to Peter, who's cleaning off his bottom lip of raspberry sorbet. "Did you climb through the window? You have a key."

Peter sets the bowl down beside him, shrugs, "You weren't returning my calls."

Your shoulders sag and you drop your things to the floor, "Peter-"

"No, no," you watch him slide off the countertop and bounce over to you, and the nearness you aren't prepared for makes you back away an inch or two, "No Peter. I'm not Peter. I'm Spider-Man. See?" He gestures to the suit.

You reach your hand up and pinch his exposed cheek, then narrowly avoid his teeth before he tries to nip you, "I'm not in the mood. I said I'd call you later, I'm just... busy."

"Busy avoiding your best friend."

You can feel him trail after you as you walk away, beginning to undress. He catches your coat when you throw it toward the couch and hangs it up all neat on a hook. He kicks your shoes to a wall and tugs your belt from your fingertips once you've undone it. Then, unexpectedly, he hooks said belt around your waist and yanks you back to face him.

The momentum throws you fully into his chest but he's sturdy, unmoving as you grip his shoulders and give him the most hostile look you can muster. You attempt to wiggle out of the trap but he pulls the belt tighter, forcing you closer, and then you start to panic as the space between you both disappears, "I haven't been avoiding you, I just needed space." You quickly explain.

"And I get that," he admits, "but you scared me. I've never seen you like that before. Not with me. Not ever."

Of course he hadn't. It was why you kept all of this a secret in the first place. Because you knew he'd worry, and you knew that there would be nothing he could do to fix it. Not like he usually could.

"It was a... brief lapse in self-esteem. That's all. You're making it into a bigger deal than it should be."

"It's not a big deal?"

"No! That's what I keep trying to tell you."

"So it doesn't matter at all."

"Correct."

"Right."

"It's just an arbitrary milestone that means nothing." You grip the leather of your belt but you're nothing against his superhuman strength. Pleading with your eyes, you do your best not to slip back into that vulnerable place all over again. Peter made you feel safe to do that. Way too safe to do that. "I promise. I'm not avoiding you."

You get sick of staring into the whites of his mask and so you grab the edge of it and pull it up to his hairline, little tufts of curls poking out as his face is fully revealed to you. You stare into those sharp, probing eyes of his, forcing yourself to stand the test of Peter Parker's perception.

Suddenly, you're released.

You stumble back a bit, the belt clanking against the floor, as Peter throws his arms up in defeat, "Alright, alright. I get it. I should've let you breathe the other night. I was just worried, is all."

You smile, "And I appreciate that."

Peter quickly glances at you and then away, making an exaggerated show of kicking imaginary dust off the floor. "First kisses really mean nothing then, huh?"

"Zilch. Nada."

"So... doesn't matter when it is, who it is..."

You watch him carefully, "If this is about when we were six-"

"No, no, I know that didn't count. You don't even remember it," his face contorts in a wince, "I was just thinking. Something."

Your eyes narrow, "Uh-huh."

"Well, I mean, is that why? Because you don't remember it? Or... is it because it was me?"

"The kiss?" Peter blows a raspberry, looking more bashful by the second, and nods without looking at you. "It's... it's because we were six. And we didn't know what we were doing. I was just mimicking what we saw. We didn't know anything."

"And now we do."

"Yeah. What are you getting at, Pete?"

He sits on the back of your couch and kicks his feet out in front of him. "If all that matters is that we both know what we're doing, and a first kiss is just a meaningless milestone to you, then I thought that maybe we could give it another go. You know. So when a real kiss comes along that actually means something, you'll have an idea of how it's supposed to go."

You're six years old again.

You and Peter Parker are sitting in the dirt, mouths covered in sticky ice cream that the summer sun melted right up. You're both talking about Flash Thompson's trip to Florida and the hilarious sunburn he came back with when you spot an elderly couple across the park, pressing their mouths together over and over.

You're looking over at Peter and asking about it, sure it couldn't possibly feel good, and he's telling you that when Uncle Ben kisses May good morning in the kitchen he always looks away because it's gross.

And you're thinking... you start thinking something.

You're thinking it would be funny—that Peter would hate you for it, but you're just so curious—and you're pressing your lips to his so quickly that he doesn't get a chance to pull back before you're giggling in the grass. And May's voice flutters in the background, a shrill and delighted, "I caught that!" that makes you both turn tail and run toward the swings.

Peter's still staring at you, waiting.

Part of you feels like it's pity. Like he doesn't want you to feel bad about yourself. Like he doesn't know how else to fix it, because he has to fix it. He has to fix everything. He has to be your hero.

But the other part? A restless and selfish part wants to take it; it's curious.

You take a step forward, the two of you watching each other, waiting to see if the other might back out at the last second. He stays exactly where he is, legs parting slowly, and the silent invitation makes you feel hot under the collar.

When you're standing between them, you feel his knees bump your legs on either side, his hands planted firmly into the couch cushions. You notice the grip he has on them, "Are you sure?" You pause.

Peter tilts his head in that strange, spider-like way. As if he cannot fathom why would you ask such a thing, "Of course. I'm the one who offered."

Your hands shake as they consider where to put themselves, and you get about halfway to his shoulders before he takes them and places them on either side of his face, mumbling something about how it might help you feel more in control, quell your nerves a bit.

Peter's cheeks feel so warm in your hands, and you can feel each swallow he makes the longer you take in his expression. "Should... I move in first? Or..."

He laughs, short and high-pitched, "I guess I can go first."

You know you're supposed to close your eyes, but as he comes in close, you can't help but keep them lidded, taking in every twitch of his mouth as he inclines his neck, shuts his eyes, and kisses you.

Your brain reacts a half-second after his lips touch yours. You've probably stopped breathing, and you have to force your lips to unstiffen so that you could actually feel him. His lips are a little wet—he'd been rolling his bottom lip between his teeth since he'd sat down—and they taste faintly of raspberry. They're not cold though, and the feeling isn't unpleasant.

You don't know how to react to it, don't know if you should move or not, and so instead you curl your fingers into the silk of his nape and wait for the pounding in your chest to stop.

You feel him mouth at your bottom lip just once, and then pull back. "How'd that feel?"

You recall the sensations that went through your brain (all that it can recall anyway, when Peter's looking at you like that), "Slimy...?"

Peter's face falls, and then he bursts into laughter, shakes with the force of it, and drops his head on your shoulder. "There's got to be a better word than that."

"I don't know! I was just thinking about the feeling."

"I don't want to know what it felt like, I want to know how it made you feel. Did you like it? Hate it?"

"I don't know. I'm- I'm nervous."

"Hey, that's okay," his hand rubs your hip, warming the skin there, and you find yourself leaning into it for comfort, "everyone is their first time."

Peter is so, so gentle. Your heart feels like it might give out, but a little less now that it's over and he's not looking at you in disgust. You don't know what you expected, but... this was better. By far. That part of you that felt selfish takes over again, "Can we try again?"

His eyes widen a bit, but he's immediately nodding, "Okay. Yeah. Okay. We can try as- as many times as you want."

You nearly choke on your spit. "Can we?" Your voice comes out a meek whisper.

Peter nods. He brings his legs in so that he's sitting properly now. "Of course. You wanna move me? I can sit somewhere else. Or you can sit if you want."

"No, I like you here," you say, feeling your stomach tighten when his thighs lock against your legs, "um. Is there anything I can work on? How did I feel?"

"Warm. Soft. Just try to loosen up, alright?"

You force yourself to release the tension in your body and move in first this time. Images of rom-com kisses flood your brain, how you memorized their rhythms and the placement of their mouths. You try your best to mimic it, make it feel as good as it seemed to look, when you feel one of Peter's hands slip behind your head and angle you away just a hair, "You're tensing up," he warns, making you pause, "it doesn't have to be perfect. It's just you and me. Breathe for me, okay? Turn your brain off."

You feel your stomach flip a bit, and nod along mindlessly. You try again.

This time, it feels a little different. Not wet or stiff, even if it is still awkward. It almost overwhelms you when, as you're mouthing at Peter's lip, he returns the favor, but you keep your brain empty. You can't focus on the details because it won't feel right. You can't focus on the way it looks because it won't feel right.

So you focus on Peter. You focus on the hand on your hip drawing you closer and the hand on your neck rubbing circles into the knot there. You focus on the feeling of his suit under your pinkies. You focus on the small hum he makes when, with quite a bit of building up to it, you pass your tongue over his.

Almost as soon as you do it, you pull back. Peter is flushed and it makes the beauty marks on his skin stand out more. His eyelashes flutter, a half-smile on his lips that are kissed red. By you.

You open your mouth to ask but he beats you to it, "I think you've got it now... yeah. Definitely." You're so relieved you sigh, sagging away from him, but he catches your hands before they can can leave his face completely and holds them in his lap. You don't dare move them. "How about you? Did you like it?"

You nod, speechless.

Peter laughs and squeezes your hands in his, "Okay, good. Good. I love you, you know? I know it doesn't... replace what you're looking for, but you're wonderful. You're insane and funny and stunning and there's nothing wrong... you know? You're perfect. Take it from your loser best friend who had to get bit by a radioactive spider to get to first base."

You snort, "I mean, if that's all it takes..."

Peter shakes his head and stands, but his hand remains on your neck as you follow his eyes to his full height, "So, we good? No more ignoring me?" You bite your lip, nodding your head. Peter smiles. "Good, cause I'm starving and I need you to split a pizza with me."

"You just polished off a tub of ice cream and you're still hungry?"

"I'm a growing spider, honey. And I missed you." Without warning, the hand on your hip hooks around your back and hoists you into his body, throwing you off balance once more, "I'll swing us there and cover cheese sticks too. Sound good?"

You know you don't have much room to argue when he's being so generous. And not when he's beaming at you, so genuinely relieved to have you back that it would knock you off your feet if he wasn't holding you up.

He was right; this wouldn't replace what you were looking for, but it gets pretty damn close. Closer than you expected, actually. But it's just the adrenaline. This didn't change anything.

Did it? You stare up at Peter.

"We can try as many times as you want."

You might have a very different problem than you started with.

taglist: @yikes-buddy @alexxavicry @theclassicvinyldragon @marina-and-the-memes

[helen-with-an-a]

I am an adult part 5

Hiya, so this is the penultimate part of this series. It's a little angstier than what I had originally planned and I'm not entirely sure it'll get much better ahahaha. Anyways, I hope you enjoy it. And shout out to @lyak12 for helping me out with the plot a little ahahah

Barça Femeni x Reader ; Lena Oberdorf x Reader

Part 1 : Part 2 : Part 3 : Part 3.5 : Part 4 : Part 5 : Part 6 : Part 7 : Epilogue

Word Count: 5.3k

TW: A bit of bad mental health; R is a little shitty

It wasn’t until the Pokal Final that you actually got to see Lena again. It hadn’t really been a planned visit, but you had to get away. You had to see her, feel her again. You needed her to keep the darkness at bay. It was a random Monday morning when you received a phone call from your agent.

“Hey, pet, are you free to chat?” Paul said, his Geordie accent sounding slightly thicker than usual. “Yeh, yeh. I’ve just got home – what’s up?” You asked happily, not knowing the devastation that was about to come your way. “Um, look … there’s no easy way to say this, so I’m just gonna come right out and say it …” he paused, clearly psyching himself up for whatever he was about to say. You sat up from where you were slouched over the kitchen counter. This sounded important. Really important. And that scared you. “You know Barça have been having …” He searched for the right word. “Financial issues,” he settled on, hoping to give you an indication of where this conversation might be going. You did know the financial issues the club was having – it had been plastered all over various social media. You had tried not to let it worry you, but there had been a little niggle in the back of your head. “I’m so sorry, pet. They aren’t offering an extension. I’ve just received the information; they cannot afford to keep you on next season. You’re being let go. Your last match as a Barcelona Femeni player will be the 16th of June.”

Your world broke. What did they mean they could not afford to keep you? Were you not worth it to them? Of course, you weren’t worth the money. You were just a kid in their eyes. Why would they keep you instead of Alexia? A lifelong player that bled Barcelona and had multiple Ballon d'Ors to her name. Or Lucy? A multiple-time Champion League winner in her own right, with numerous individual accolades too. You were expendable. You were lucky they had even taken you on all those years ago. How naïve had you become to allow yourself to get comfortable? Was it because of the issues with the government last year? You knew you had seriously fucked up then, but everything seemed to be behind you. Nothing more had been said about the incident.

You cleared your throat, a futile attempt to dislodge the heavy lump that had formed. “Right … um …” You managed to croak out, your voice sounding foreign and weak to your own ears. “Pet, I know this is not what you wanted to hear. And I’m so, so sorry.” “It’s fine.” It was very much not fine. But you were too numb to do anything, really. The thoughts swirling dangerously across your mind were not something you wanted to process right now. “No, it’s not.” Paul's replied solemnly, his voice heavy. “I’ve tried to negotiate; I’ve just come back from a meeting with them, actually. I had hoped to have some kind of agreement made but they aren’t budging.” He paused, the silence echoing the futility of his efforts. “But you’ve got offers,” he reassured you, his words a feeble attempt to lighten the heavy disappointment. “Name the continent and you’ve got an offer. Portland, Houston, Gotham, Kansas, Tigres, Bayern, Wolfsburg, Lyon, PSG, Melbourne, Sydney, Chelsea, Man City,-”

It was too much. Information overload.

“C-can we not do this right now? I … I just need a minute.” Your voice was thick with suppressed tears. “Absolutely, of course. How about I get all the offers and whatnot up and into a document for you and I’ll email it over to you. You read over it, and I’ll schedule a meeting for, let’s say, next Monday? We can talk it all through then, yeah?” “Yeah,” you agreed absently. You didn’t want to look over offers. You wanted to stay in Barcelona. You were happy here; you had friends, and people you considered family were here. But they didn’t want you. They were more than happy to throw you to the wind without a second doubt. The phone call ended and that was that. Barça didn’t want you. You weren’t worth it.

Conflicting emotions raging a war in your mind; pain, hurt, anger, sadness, defeat, fear, anxiety, dread, disappointment, helplessness, embarrassment, shame. The first hour after the phone call you had stayed by the counter, watching each message from all of your teammates and Lena buzz. You prayed one of them would be Paul, telling you that Barça had reconsidered, that they had miraculously found the money and would offer you an extension. He never did. You knew the adult thing would be to let yourself feel … something … anything. But you didn’t want to be an adult right now. Adult, you would be sad; look over the document Paul sent over and view this as an opportunity. Adult you would phone up Ona and Alexia and ask them to come round and help you through this. Adult you would call Lena. But you weren’t an adult right now. Right now, you were scared and ashamed, and angry and in so much pain. You didn’t want to do what adults should do. You didn’t know what you wanted … but you knew being an adult was not one of them.

Eventually, you moved to the couch. The couch that you had forced Ona, Patri and Pina to help you pick out. The couch that had witnessed so many memories – you had cried on this couch, you had laughed on this couch, you had fucked on this couch, you had loved on this couch. And now you had to find a new couch. You had to leave this couch behind. Slowly, the darkness crept in. With every passing hour a new part of your house was in shadow, another memory gone. The suncatcher in the window, the candles on the coffee table, the pictures on the wall … all disappearing in the blackness and soon to be forgotten. That is what would happen to you; you were sure of it. Alexia would move on and find a new Pequeña. Ona would move in with Lucy. Patri and Pina would have dinner-and-movie dates together without you. Marta, Sandra and Irene would go back to their own lives and stop worrying about you.

What were you going to tell Lena? Sorry, Liebe, your girlfriend’s unemployed. Sorry, Liebe, your long-distance girlfriend is potentially moving further away, and you’ll never play against her again. Barcelona had witnessed so much of your first steps to a tentative relationship. Barcelona had seen your first meetings, your first date, your butterflies, your excitement when you returned home, your confusion as unknown feelings of love swirled around in your chest.

Your phone buzzed. Speak of the devil. You didn’t want to speak to her right now. You knew that talking to her would make you cry. And you were trying really hard not to cry. But all you wanted to hear was her voice, her laughter, her reassurances. Your body moved before you had even noticed. “Hey, Schatz.” “H-,” you cleared your throat. “Hey, Liebe.” “Was ist los mit dir?” You could hear the panic in her voice, the shuffling of fabric as she sat up, attentive to what was happening. Your phone beeped again.

L 💚 is requesting a switch to video call

You clicked yes without thinking about it. Her face filled your screen; even in pixels, she looked beautiful. You, on the other hand, looked like a mess. Had you been crying? You didn’t think so, but you must have been, as another tear rolled silently down your cheek. Your eyes were red, your skin splotchy, and your face swollen and puffy. “Oh, Schatz,” Lena cooed. “What’s wrong?” Her soft voice was filled with earnest. You could feel her willing you to speak to her. You shook your head as the lump grew in your throat. “Schatz … bitte.” You made eye contact through the phone. “Barça … Barça aren’t offering a new contract. I have to leave at the end of the season.” Silence. A heartbeat of pure torture. Lena didn’t know what to say. She was angry for you – how could they not want you? Talent aside, you were the most incredible human in the world. Why would they not want you? But one look at you told her you didn’t need her anger; you needed her comfort. “Oh, Schatz,” she cooed. You shook your head, trying to fight back the overwhelming force of tears. “It’s ok to cry,” she reminded you. Her permission was all you needed. Hot, wet tears streamed down your face; the sobs hurt your chest. How? How could they do this? It took a while, filled with Lena’s comforting words and gentle reassurance, for you to calm down. When you were coherent enough to see the screen properly, you could tell Lena had been crying, too. Great, now you had made your girlfriend cry. “Ha-have you spoken to your agent?” She asked quietly, humming when you nodded. There was another pause, this time not as painful but still hard to get through. “Schatz, I want to come see you. Or you to see me. Please…” she pleaded. “No, Liebe, you’re busy. You’ve,” you sniffed, wiping your nosy unattractively on your sleeve. God, you’d be lucky if she still wanted to be with you after this. “You’ve got the Pokal final in like 3 days.” You so desperately wanted to see her, though. “Then you come to me,” she implored. “I’ve got matches, too,” you whimpered. The last thing you wanted to do was play for a club that didn’t want you. “Schatz, I mean this in the nicest way possible, but fuck them.” That made you laugh … well, not laugh per se, more like a weird huff or snort. But Lena could tell it was a gesture of humour nonetheless, she couldn’t help but respond with a similar smile. “I’m being honest. You’ve basically won the league; you can skip one game. You need a break and time to get your head around everything. Tell them it’s for mental health or whatever. Just … please, Schatz. I need to see you. I need to know you’re ok,” she said more seriously. “If you don’t come to Germany, I’m coming to you.”

You mulled it over, and Lena could tell you were thinking properly. You stared off out of the camera, your teeth sinking into your lip. You had your thinking face on. You really didn’t want to see anyone at Barça for the next few days. You needed to step back and have time to process, but you couldn’t do that with training and having to face the girls again. And it was true that you had already won the league; you didn’t need to play this particular match. And a break might do you some good. With the Copa de la Reina and Champion’s League finals coming up, seeing Lena again was something that would definitely help you relax a little. But you had the Copa de la Reina and Champion’s League finals coming up. You couldn’t miss valuable days of training. Barça were on for the quadruple. Should you do it? “The matches …” you finally said. “Mean nothing if it’s at the expense of your mental well-being,” Lena said emphatically. That was true. Winning the Copa de la Reina and Champion’s League would mean the world to you, only … you wouldn’t, couldn’t, be able to truly enjoy the experience. Not with this sword dangling over your head.

Less than 6 hours later, you found yourself on a plane. You had booked the first available flight out of Barcelona, hastily stuffing random hoodies and comfy joggers into a bag and snatching your passport. A curt text to Jona was all it took. You had made your decision, and a sense of relief washed over you. Lena would help you make sense of everything. You would take some time, give yourself a few days away from it all and then return with a plan. At least, that's what you told yourself.

Y/F/N Y/S/N: Hi. Unfortunately, I won’t be at training this week due to personal reasons. I would also appreciate if my name taken off the match list this weekend. Thanks Y/N.

Jonatan Giráldez: Hola, Y/N. I’m so sorry to hear that. Of course, take as much time as you need and yes, your name is off the squad list. If there is anything the club can do to help, please let me know. I hope you feel better soon, J.

If there’s anything the club can do to help? After they threw you away like you were nothing? After they brought you here as a child and then washed their hands of you? Not even having the decency to tell you with more than a month until your contract expired. Why would you go to the club? And surely Jonatan would know about your agent's conversations with the club? The staff always had a say in who was staying and who wasn’t; he must have known that the meeting was happening. That you were being told that you were no longer considered a valuable squad member – or at least one that warranted the cost to keep on … right?

One thing you hadn’t really considered, or maybe you had subconsciously but didn’t care, was the rest of the team. In their eyes, you had finished the recovery session on the Sunday as happy as Larry, and then you had dropped off the face of the earth. No one had heard from you, and then suddenly, at training, Jona said that you were taking some time off due to personal reasons. And no, he genuinely didn’t know what the personal reasons were. He even went so far as to show the Captains your text message. Short and to the point, no elaboration. Patri could feel the iciness through the words. Something was wrong.

Alexia’s phone call went straight to voicemail, as did Patri’s … Sandra’s, Irene’s, and Marta’s. They had Ona try, Pina, Cata, and Lucy. Every member of the team tried phoning you, and they all received the same response: straight to voicemail. So, you had turned your phone off. “Is she at her house?” Keira asked, watching as Ona pulled up your location. Ingrid stood off to the side, watching with worry as the girls descended into chaos over your unknown whereabouts. “Ok, everyone, enough,” she shouted, drawing all attention to her. “Here’s what’s going to happen. Ona, Ale and I will go to Y/N’s and check if she’s there. If she is, we'll stay and help her out with whatever she needs. If she isn’t, we’ll come back to mine, and we think of what to do next, ok? Everyone else, you are more than welcome to come to go home with María and wait, or you can do whatever you want. I don’t really care. We’ll keep you all updated on what’s happening, yeh?”

The plan was simple, really. Everyone knew what they had to do. The anxiety in the car was high, but calm and sensible Ingrid helped break the tension. “Her cars here,” Ona pointed out, nodding her head towards your designated space. “That’s good,” Ale smiled, squeezing Ona’s shoulder, but shared a look with Ingrid. They knew that that meant little in the grand scheme of things, you often ordered an Uber to take you places instead of driving. The hallway was unusually dark as they approached your apartment door. It was shut and locked, ruling out a break-in at least. Letting themselves in, it was starkly evident that you had left in a hurry – wherever you had gone. A blanket was carelessly left on the couch, a half-drunk cold cup of tea on the counter, your wardrobe door open and hangers on the bed. You were conspicuously absent. Ona was deeply unsettled; this was not like you at all. You never left without a word. Even if you were just going to the shops, you always texted her or sent her a silly selfie – it was a habit she cherished about you. Something was seriously, truly amiss.

Seeing Lena, the stone pressing on your chest felt lifted slightly. You walked straight into her arms as you hurried through the exit. Her soft skin, cinnamon smell, warm arms, and strong heartbeat soothed the storm. “Schatz,” she cooed, not mentioning the tears she felt dropping onto her shoulder. Come on, we’ll get a taxi back to my hotel, ja?” She ushered you towards the taxi rank. It was a little awkward for you both as she kept her arm tightly around you, silently thanking the heavens that you had brought only a carry-on backpack and not an actual suitcase.

After speaking to Tommy and signing a totally unnecessary NDA, you were allowed to sit in on the Wolfsburg training. You were reluctant to leave Lena; she wanted you as close as possible. It was obvious to everyone that you were not ok as you kept your eyes trailing to the floor and a firm grip on Lena. You were always seen with your arm around her waist, her hand in yours or your head resting on her shoulder. To those who didn’t know you, it would just look like long-distance lovers finally reunited; to everyone else, though, you were clearly going through something. Jule hadn’t even said anything before pulling you into a hug, squeezing nice and tightly before passing you to Sveindís. She had just pressed a kiss to your forehead before continuing the conversation as if it was normal for you to be there. Alex and Svenja had pulled you aside as you walked into breakfast the first morning you were there. When they heard from Lena that you were watching the final, they thought it would be perfect timing for the talk. They prepared a speech and everything, promising painful retribution if you stepped a foot out of line. An hour watching you and Lena interact silently, automatically knowing what the other needed without ever speaking, made them throw their plan straight out the window.

“Hey, Y/N. Can we talk for a minute?” Alex asked, putting a gentle hand on your elbow. You looked up wildly at Lena, relaxing slightly as she smiled and kissed your cheek, moving away to give you privacy. “Whose behinds do we need to kick?” Svenja jumped straight to it. “Huh?” You furrowed your brows in confusion. “We’ve seen the way you interact on the pitch. We’ve been in the room when you call Lena. You clearly are not yourself, so I’ll ask again. Whose needs a good kick up the bum?” It was something about the pair of them. You knew they were the motherly figures of the team, especially for Lena. She always sang their praises whenever she had the chance. You took a deep breath. “The whole of Barça?” You don’t know why you said it as a question. “Barça as in the city of Barcelona? Or just the team?” Alex quizzed “Um … well, they aren’t renewing my contract in the summer. They said they can’t afford it. But the first time either me or my agent heard about it was when they formally told us. I guess it just … knocked me a little.” You confessed. It was the first time you had explained what had happened since you first told Lena. Your heart clenched as you said the words, every syllable making it more and more real. “Oh, mausi. It’s ok.” Alex pulled you into a hug, gently squeezing you. “Take as much time as you need, ja? And talk to Obi, lean on her, let her be there for you.” Svenja added, rubbing your back comfortingly. You nodded, smiling gratefully at the two women.

You tried to keep a low profile, you successfully stayed out of the camera as you sat in the stands during Wolfsburg’s practices. You had spent most of the training looking over the documents your manager had sent over. A lot of the offers seemed really good. A very nice salary from most of them, some offered flats and houses, others offered cars and expenses. But there was one that stood out for you. It was no different than any of the other offers. But it lingered in your mind; it danced across your thoughts as you tried to fall asleep in Lena’s arms; it flicked as you ate breakfast; it appeared randomly as you waited for Lena to return from the showers. Should you? Logically, you knew you had to go somewhere. And you would have to move out of Barcelona and probably out of Spain too. There was one thing that this offer had that the others didn’t. Well, not a thing, but a person.

Inevitably, for all your efforts to hide yourself away, you were caught at the match. You had a black hoodie of Lena’s on and sunglasses, hoping it was enough to keep you from being recognised, but the fans were too good. You were picked up by hundreds of phones, all snapping photos of you. You knew it was kind of stupid to go to Lena’s match after withdrawing from your own, but you wanted to watch a football that didn’t impact you in any way beyond that of a fan. You were desperate to watch the game you loved as a fan again, to rediscover your love for the sport you dedicated your whole life to.

Ona was absolutely beside herself with worry. She was convinced you were dead. Or seriously injured, at the very least. “Si us plau, si us plau, Lucia. Por favor. Please,” she begged Lucy. For what, Lucy was unsure. “I don’t know what to do.” “I know, my love. I know.” Lucy ran her hands through Ona’s loose hair, twisting the strands around her fingers in a way she knew should bring her comfort. “What if she’s dead? I can’t lose her, not like this. Not without saying goodbye,” Ona sobbed. “She’s not, I promise you. She isn’t dead.” Despite her attempts, she didn’t know that. Not definitely. You could be lying in a ditch somewhere or in a hospital bed, unable to wake up and tell someone your name. Of course, she was worried for you, but she was more concerned for Ona. She was inconsolable. You had disappeared from her life without a trace.

Next to Lucy, her phone buzzed. She was going to ignore it; her girlfriend needed her more than whoever was messaging her. But when Ona’s tinged and then both started to ring, she sat up slightly. “Sí?” “She’s alive.” Ingrid breathed, sighing out in relief. That made Lucy sit up. “Hold on, let me put you on speaker, I’m with Oni.” “She’s alive. She’s in Germany. It’s on Instagram and Twitter. She’s at the Pokal final.” Mapí said, her tone a mix of relief and anger. “Què?” Ona sniffled, sitting up and leaning into Lucy more. “Some accounts have photos of her, it's all over social media. Ingrid’s trying to reach anyone from Wolfsburg. So’s Frido.��� Mapí explained. “Lena,” Ona said, realisation dawning on her. If you were at a game in Germany, you would be watching Lena play.

Rumour: Y/F/N Y/S/N to transfer to Wolfsburg or Bayern Munich.

After being spotted at the DFB-Pokal Frauen 2024 Final, F.C. Barcelona midfielder Y/F/N Y/S/N is rumoured to make the intercontinental move next season. To which club is yet to be confirmed, but all signs point to the young player leaving Barcelona in the summer. With her presence at the Pokal Final, can we assume that she will be going to either Wolfsburg or Bayern?

Keep reading to find out more …..

Ona stared at her phone in shock. There was no way, no way in hell you were leaving Barça, especially not without telling her. You were happy here; you loved it here. Why would you go? You had friends here; you had your best friend here; you had your family here. She couldn’t help the tears that welled in her eyes. You weren’t leaving her, were you? It would explain why you were MIA for the past three days. Whilst she was at home, worried sick that you were lying dead in a ditch or in some ICU in a coma, your name unknown, you were off in Germany, living life and meeting your new teammates. And you had abandoned training and asked to be taken off the match squad. This couldn’t be the personal reasons you had mentioned in your text. There had to be more to it. There had to be a simple explanation. And yet, none was forthcoming. You had hopped on a plane and flew to Germany. No message, no phone call, no email. Just upped and left the country. So you could meet with your new team.

How could you do this to Ona? After all that you two had been through, after all that you had shared with each other. You were the first person she told about Lucy. You were the first person outside the Spanish national players she confessed to about what truly happened behind closed doors. You were there for her in ways no one else was or could be. And yet, you were leaving her without saying goodbye.

Leaving Lena was hard; you didn't really want to go back to Barcelona and face what was awaiting you. When you finally switched your phone back on, you were met with thousands of messages and missed calls. They started off concerned, then really worried and then they turned angry. You couldn't fault them; your behaviour was shitty. You would be just as angry if one of them had done that to you. But you needed a few days without anyone related to Barcelona. You needed the distance to clear your head and gather a game plan to present to your agent when you next spoke. You didn't even know about the article that was making its way around the internet. You weren't too big on social media unless it was to make your monthly Instagram posts. You followed the necessary people and uploaded the right things, but you didn't scroll for hours. You had been there before, been down that path and knew that only badness lay ahead. You had read the comments, seen the nastiness, heard the bitterness. So, you stayed clear, away from the world of social media trolls and online negativity. You didn't know of the absolute hell that was awaiting you.

Maybe going straight from the airport to training was a bad idea. Perhaps you should have taken the time to phone someone and let them know you were returning. Possibly, you should have spoken to Alexia and Ona first so you could explain yourself properly. Potentially you should have checked social media. But you didn’t. You didn’t do any of that.

You arrived at the training ground with your headphones in and hood up. You hurried passed reception, ignoring the glares from the receptionist and physios. You had hoped to catch Ona or Alexia before training, to pull them aside and explain everything to them (hopefully without crying).

“So, you’re transferring then?” Lucy called, her face stern and eyes blazing in anger. You hummed, confused and slightly shocked at her tone, but opted to walk straight to your cubby. “Oh, no, you don’t. Turn around.” Your headphones were still blasting music, so you never heard her. Lucy grabbed your shoulder roughly, swinging you back around to face. “What the fuck,” you flinched, pulling your headphones out and taking a step back. “You don’t get to do this. Not after I watched Ona cry herself to sleep ‘cos you were missing.” You felt your heart sink. Had she really done that? “I-” You felt guilty. You really, really felt horrible about what you had done to your … friends … ex-friends … teammates … ex-teammates. Ona especially. She was your best friend, and to see her puffy eyes and solemn expression from across the room made you feel even worse. And it bubbled up into anger. Mainly at yourself, but you couldn’t help but explode when Lucy started shouting. “Got nothing to say, have you?” She took a step closer. “We’re not good enough for you, now? You’ve found yourself a little girlfriend, and suddenly, your friends aren’t enough.” You squared up to her. “Leave Lena out of this,” you said menacingly, matching her energy. If she wanted a fight, she'd get one. “Please, you’re a fucking joke. You don’t get to waltz back in here like nothing happened. You were missing for 4 days. Not a single text to us to tell us what was going on.” “I don’t have to tell you everything.” She was right, though, and you knew it. A simple message to someone, anyone, to let them know would have solved a lot of issues. “What about Ona? Is she no longer your best friend? Or Ale, the woman who took you in when you first arrived?” She pressed. You were basically nose-to-nose at this point. “Why did you even bother coming back?” You recoiled as if she had just slapped you. It stung like she had. Why had you bothered coming back? Barça didn’t want you. And now the team didn’t want you either. “Fuck you, Bronze.” Your voice cracked slightly, your jaw clenched, and your mouth set in a harsh line. You were trying really hard not to cry. “Are you trying to burn all your bridges before you abandon us? If you are, it’s working.” She looked you up and down, the disdain in her eyes obvious. “You don’t deserve to be here anymore, let alone have us as friends.” You knew Lucy got angry when she was hurt, but hearing those words confirmed everything you already thought about yourself and this situation. Lena had spent days trying to glue your fragile mind back together, and with a single sentence, you had shattered into a thousand pieces again.

You hadn’t noticed the crowd gathering around you, the semi-circle blocking your exit and forcing you to keep up your façade. To most of the others, Lucy just echoed their hurt feelings, saying precisely what they were thinking. But Alexia and Ona could see the pain swirling behind your eyes before Lucy started the argument. The pair of them could also see your heartbreak as the words echoed around the silent changing rooms despite the mask you had on. You took a moment to gather yourself. Taking a breath, you said lowly. “You know what? If this is how you treat everyone that’s leaving, I’m glad Barça aren’t renewing my contract. I don’t want to be on a pitch with someone that thinks so little of me.”

I hope you enjoyed <3<3<3<3<3

[heartfullofleeches]

aight, back again with a little something something for the murder clown gang cuz I'm absolutely obsessed with them, cuz they're so silly !! :]

idk if you do oc x oc or something but uhhhhh... here's my own mime oc; Ainsley ! [And yes, their outfit is indeed intentional cuz why not lol]

and I was also wondering, how would the clowns react to another mime? I mean, Ainsley here is selectively mute and they do talk when they feel like it.

Here's Ainsley for reference ↓↓↓

and here's a bonus doodle of Ainsley and Mimey ! There's so stinking cute I can't (⁠〒⁠﹏⁠〒⁠) ↓↓↓

[no digital doodles for now since I drew this in the middle of our exams ahahaha, but anyways, sketchbook doodles !! :D]

"Do you trust this one, Mimey?... Alright then, welcome."

"Another mime? How precious~ ♡ Wonderful to meet you, dear~"

"Aw fuck, they're multiplying-"

"N-nice to meet you...."

"Thighs... We're keeping this one too, right??"

"Since you're one of us now... I'll make you a bracelet. I hate the taste of peppermint and we wouldn't want any accidents...."

The murder clowns are a very tight-knit group. They hardly trust nor tolerate anyone outside of the circle....but if someone puts in a good word for the new person in question they'll welcome them with cautious, but open arms. Orange takes longer to adjust, but they'll come around and be as overbearing/protective as they are with everyone else. Pink, Blue and Purple are all suckers for cute things and would probably find a way to rope Red into letting Ainsley in regardless- Green heavily dislikes the taste/smell of mint and they have a problem with biting others in their sleep. To avoid eating their partners while asleep they make bracelets soaked in peppermint oil that grosses them out enough to where they won't bite the wearer.

(Beautiful work as always! Ainsley is super cute! Thanks for sharing! ❤️🤡❤️)

[teriri-sayes]

Reactions to The Incomprehensible's Chapter 326

Brief summary: Raon's perspective on the time that Neo exploded. Raon calms down the fluctuating mana, letting everyone use magic. Explosion ends, and the source of the world appears.

==========

We still do not know if Cale's plate actually broke, but the following hints at it:

Cale hadn't fainted yet. He hadn't lost consciousness. Dragon Mila's hands were seen trembling, pulling out thin beige threads, trying to connect it together somehow.

I guess we'll know next chapter the extent of damage Cale's plate has.

As for DHB, we also do not know if he is still alive, but Raon and Eruhaben managed to stop his soul from breaking by casting their shields on him. Cale's frustration at DHB's actions though... 😂

Raon could see his human's mouth open, even though he couldn't see Raon. His human spoke in annoyance. "…Dragon Half-Blood… you bastard, who… won't… even listen… to your name… You must never die……." Raon felt like Cale was talking to himself. "…Do, do you think I'll die, like this……?" Raon grinned at the faint sound of the voice. "As expected of my human!"

Cale and DHB were not the only ones with... um, sacrificial tendencies? Even Eruhaben was fine with dying. 🙁

The dragon bit his lip. He couldn't help but shudder. Cale was- Dragon Half-Blood was- Raon was- With no one knowing what would happen to them all. 'I can't be the one to survive.' If anyone dies, I should be the first one to die. Because- Dust and magic spread out in Eruhaben's hands.

And when the explosion has ended, the source of the world arrived. But... you're late! Why only now?! No, wait... If she's here, could she possibly mend Cale's plate? Cale seems annoyed at her arrival though, because he felt that she was planning on using him as...an air purifier. 🤣🤣🤣

Raon's Present attribute was surprisingly OP. He wanted to change fate, and willed it. He made the mana of the world obey him and stopped it from fluctuating, thus allowing everyone to use mana.

There were lots of touching scenes too. 🥰🥰🥰

What am I supposed to do? Raon turned his head involuntarily. The one I always watched and learned from, yes. You were the first to show me the light of the world. Even the stars in the night sky. From the one who first showed me, I must still learn. Raon tore his gaze away from the explosion and looked at a person. His eyes locked with Cale's.

Cale was truly Raon's dad. 🥰🥰🥰

Toward that light, Raon unleashed his magic. A shield. The best he'd ever done. The most used, the most practiced. The magic he was most confident in. It was a secret, but he thought his human looked the coolest when he used the shield. In other words, Raon had practiced and studied the shield the most. And this shield was the power he needed most right now.

How cute!!! Raon secretly admired his human's silver shield, so he diligently practiced using shield magic. 🥰🥰🥰

Raon looked beyond the translucent black shield to the platinum shattering. The platinum somehow clutching the epicenter of the explosion. The light that seemed unbreakable. No. The light that would fight tooth and nail to keep it from shattering. 'Similar.' Like my human. Me. My family. That light looks like us. That must mean the Dragon Half-Blood is one of us.

This scene too! DHB was family to Raon. 🥰🥰🥰

Raon ignored the blood running down his nose. His head felt hot. He ignored that too. It's not like I want to be like my human. Can we learn from the mistakes of adults? What hurts hurts. What's hard is hard. Raon will be a dragon who knows how to say that, who knows how to stop when he's hurt, who knows how to not push himself too hard. And he will be a dragon who knows how to protect those he loves.

Ahahaha!!! 🤣🤣🤣 Cale, your influence on Raon is just... He's becoming a mini-Cale. Even down to the "it's gonna hurt and be hard, but I'll still do it to protect my loved ones"... 😑

If there was one difference with Cale, it was that Raon believed he was not alone. He stabilized mana in order to let everyone use mana and create shields to protect the castle walls. The scene where all the dragons, ally and enemy alike, created shields to protect everyone from the explosion, and Raon making it all possible, impressed Eruhaben enough to think that Raon was truly like a true Dragon Lord.

Ending Remarks Frankly, I forgot what Cale's plan with the source of the world was. 😂 Neo was dead, but the world was still a mess. Raon only temporarily stabilized the mana, so it would up to our tired and hurt Cale to resolve the fluctuating energies of the world together with the source of the world.

Come to think of it, where's Clopeh in all this? Did he manage to record everything? But what about the moments that time stopped? Will the video recording device capture that too? Next chapter would be Cale creating another legend, in Aipotu this time, so I hope our Clopeh could capture everything for the future Cale museum. 😂

[eevees-hobbies]

Look me in my face and tell me Togame isn’t so nonchalant that he won’t absolutely do things to you in public that will make more chalant people (Sakura AHAHAHA) blush. Talking bout feeling his tongue drag over the roof of your mouth in every kiss because he KNOWS it makes you shiver and weak in the knees. Lives for feeling you sway a lil before he tightens his grip on you. Such a show off in front of others :3

Nooooooooow, which one of you Togame enthusiasts is in my inbox, leaving thirsts like this?! Jk, I’m into it. Ok, anon, I’ll look you dead in your pixelated face and tell you that Togame gets off on not only kissing you in public but he likes an audience too.

So take a little thirst walk with me, ok? Be sure to hold my hand, too, because I’m into that.

Content Warning: Making out, making out in front of others who may or may not enjoy that kind of thing (perverts), saliva swapping, pinching, brief mention of groping. Minors Do Not Interact.

Jo Togame has no shame–-I mean, he does usually, but when it comes to you, all bets are off. You began to notice his appreciation for making you blush in public when he would pull you in for a kiss and his tongue would slide into your mouth in full view of anyone that was around. Choji often gets a front-row seat to your make-out sessions, his eyes as wide as saucers as he goads his friend to keep going. 

Sakura tries his best to look away but can’t help taking a peak at the sight of Togame’s tongue infiltrating your open mouth. 

Even poor Sako commented under his breath that you two kiss like pornstars.

And trust me, Sako is not wrong. The kisses are feverish. They are lasting. They are messy.

Yes, Togame will drag his tongue along the ridges and creases along the roof of your mouth, and he’s well aware of the fact that it will always make you gasp, moan, and shiver against him, but that’s part of the fun. 

And Togame knows his girl, so of course, he’ll wrap his arms around you to keep your legs from giving out. Side note: Togame has learned that it’s best to pin you against the nearest wall, his elbows resting on either side of your head, his body pushed against yours to keep you in place.

And he’ll absolutely tease you for it. “Whats gotten into ya? It’s only a kiss, silly girl.”

But it’s not just his tongue that he so kindly shares with you. Togame doesn’t consider it a real kiss unless you have exchanged so much saliva that it collects at the corners of your mouth and leaves wet streaks against yours and his chin. As you finally come up for air, strings of saliva still connected between your lips until they break from tension, cheeks burning and chest heaving, he’ll lick his lips, savoring the taste of you.

And, god, the sounds? The louder the kiss, the better. Whether it’s the squelches your tongues make as they rub against one another or the squeak you emit when he grabs your chin with one hand and pinches your ass with the other—he’s full-on throbbing against you because fuck, why are you so damn cute? 

Just overload Togame’s senses with you, please, because that’s how he loves it.

And that’s only how it started. Now, it’s not just kissing; it’s the groping in front of Shishitoren members that really has you writhing against him because surely you’re not into that, right? Surely, you don’t want them to watch as Togame-

Sorry, that’s not what you asked, anon. You asked about kissing <3

[hecksupremechips]

My body really is just trying everything it can to be ouch ouch hurty hurt huh

[howlingday]

Sun: Man... It must be nice having a harem. Having a bunch of beautiful women literally & metaphorically throwing themselves at you. How'd you do it?

Jaune: Ahahaha... I haven't slept for the past 3 weeks.

Sun, concerned: A-are you ok-?

Jaune, desperate: Please send help.

Ruby: Wait, why can't we go inside?

Sun: Dude needs his rest.

Weiss: He can get plenty of rest with his girlfriends next to him!

Neptune: Actually, the only one not getting plenty of rest is him. You're all on different cycles and Jaune is awake during all of them.

Blake: That's not right, is it? I mean, he gets a nap in the afternoon, right?

Yang: Er... Not really, since that's when I usually get him during our "workout" sessions.

Pyrrha: And I take up most of his evenings with our nightly sparring, but we're both in bed by midnight.

Blake: ...

Ren: Blake?

Blake: (Sighs) And then I come in for a quickie.

Yang: Really gotta get your midnight snack in, huh~?

Weiss: Honestly, you're all just deplorable!

Sun: Actually, he says you take up most of his time. He feels like you need the most attention out of everyone.

Weiss: (Scoffs) That is not true!

Ruby: Well, I usually have coffee with him in the morning, and that goes on for about an hour. (6-7)

Blake: I spend most of the night with him until about dawn. (0-6)

Yang: I'm working out with him from 'til about dinnertime. (14-18)

Pyrrha: And after dinner is when we're training. (18-0)

Weiss: ...

Nora: So... How long do YOU spend time with him, Weiss~?

Weiss: ... (7-14)

Yang: (Whistles) Damn, you really do take up his time, don't you?

Weiss: I HAVE PARTICULAR NEEDS, OKAY?!

Sun: Hey, hey, keep it down! A man is trying to get his sleep!

Meanwhile, inside Jaune's bed...

[formulawolff]

✧˖° a day in the life ✧˖°

pairing: female!driver x toto wolff

summary: as the season progresses, you decide to share some of your favorite snapshots to your instagram. however, as you post more and more photos, the fans are beginning to really starting to wonder who that mystery man may be.

a/n: these posts are set between chapters vii, viii, and ix of alkaline! they aren’t really super time specific. they’re just around the time golden girl was in brackley, her travels through england, and of course, the races!

liked by williamsracing, alex_albon, lilymhe, and 800,004 others!

goldengirl: a day in the life :p

view 2,082 comments

lilymhe: oh my gosh!!! it’s me!!! ilysm!! 🥹

goldengirl: ofc!!! my bestie <3 ily more!!

goldengirlforever: these are so cute! 🤍

kikiayy: mother is mothering with the photo dumps lately

f1fanboy: i can feel her aura through the screen

alex_albon: who’s that cutie in the second photo? i need her number ASAP‼️

goldengirl: sorry but she doesn’t date nerds 🤓

alex_albon: if you keep bullying me, i’m going to go straight to james! i am not NOT messing around‼️👹😤

williamsracing: what’s 4 + 4? cause you ATE that! 💅🏻

f1fangirly: PLS WILLIAMS WHAT IS THIS!!?

goldengirlforever: i’m literally crying rn 😭 wtf

goldengirlstan: they really slayed with that comment though

view more replies

lewishamilton: why does it look like you’re in twilight in the first pic lol

mercedesgirly0420: ARIANA WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?

hastalavistababy: WHAT ON—

justaninchident: this is the weirdest crossover episode ever

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landonorris: can u send me the editing app u use you ur pics

goldengirl: idk can you use proper grammar first?

landonorris: can YOU send me the editing app that YOU use for YOUR photos? please and thank you mommy 🥺

landonorrisfan8383: MOMMY⁉️ 😳 HELLO⁉️

f1ismylife: WAIT WHAT IF LANDO IS THE MYSTERY MAN SHE HAS BEEN POSTING—

mclarengirly: OH MY GOD YOU COULD BE RIGHT!

goldengirl: ahahaha no. that’s not my man. it’s just an inside joke. nothing more, i promise :p

view more replies

liked by lilymhe, mercedesamgf1, lewishamilton, and 736,283 others

goldengirl: recent travels ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

view 4,763 comments

lilymhe: you’re so cute i’m gonna throw up

goldengirl: i WISH a certain someone would flirt with me the way you do 😫

alex_albon: i’m still waiting on meeting the day you bring this mystery man to the paddock. 🤨

goldengirl: i will one day!

mercedesamgf1: hey! that looks familiar! 😎

goldengirl: thank you for showing me around! i had a great time! :)

hastalavistababy: THIS IS GETTING WEIRD.

goldengirlforever: PLEASE DON’T TELL US YOU’RE SIGNING WITH MERCEDES NEXT SEASON.

view more replies

lewishamilton: why didn’t you tell me you were in brackley? 🧐

goldengirl: because it was for business and not hanging out 🙄🤚🏻

mercedesfan737: BUSINESS?

ilovef1: this is getting insane. where is drive to survive when you need them? 😩 i hope they’re covering this for the upcoming season

formulaonefan4life: wdym business? this is fishy af.

view more replies

goldengirl: guys…. i literally had a meeting with some sponsors in london & then i decided to take a trip to brackley to see the mercedes hq & campus. just because i drive for williams doesn’t mean that i can’t just go look at the place 😭

totosgirl73738: it’s just a bit sketch because toto was in brackley the same time you were.

justaninchident: @totosgirl73728 girl… that man owns 33% of the company.. i think he works there.

totoswife1988: she’s just not making herself look good rn with all the affair rumors going around. that’s all. going out of her way to brackley to just “see” the mercedes is weird.

justaninchident: speculating about someone’s personal life is weird. 🥱

view more replies

landonorris: was the mercedes campus cool at least? sorry ppl are being nosy af

goldengirl: yeah! i got to meet a ton of their staff & saw a lot of behind the scenes stuff! come with me next time. we can try fish and chips!

landonorris: omg!! the boys and golden girl take a field trip!! we can visit george and eat beans on toast!

view more replies

alexandrasaintmleux: where can i fill out the application to be you? is there like a tutorial or something i can follow?

goldengirl: brb i’ll post one to tik tok right now! 🤭