#sometimes i just need to say it out loud again

[joocomics]

ಬ different kind of normal

pairing: idol!taehyun x fem!reader

genre: angst, smut — mdni! wc: 1.7k

contains: situationship, reunion sex, sub!reader, slight hint of dumbification, slight dacryphilia, unprotected sex, dirty talk, pet names, reader is emotional and cries during sex, not a happy ending (?)

a/n: this has been sitting in the drafts since august and it’s finally seeing the light of day. cannot believe such angsty smut is happening on joocomics, tbh i don’t think i’ll be writing anything similar anytime soon phew it was tricky and i realised that i need my happy endings. but i wanted to try smth new, i really hope you enjoy it </3 sometimes you just need a kim taehyun to numb your emotions

You go down the familiar stairs and walk into the bar. It’s loud, lit by the usual dim yellow-ish lights, the scent of alcohol and skin is covering every corner, wrapping around your silhouette.

Your eyes observe the place to search for him and it doesn’t take long to find him - he’s sitting on your usual spot which is distanced from every other table; it feels intimate and secluded.

None of the people who visit this bar know who he is, nor do they know you, and sitting on this specific table every time you see each other only enhances the feeling you get in these moments - like you and him are the only people existing in this place and time.

“Taehyun,” you greet him at once.

You haven’t said his name out loud in so long. You’re not allowed to talk about him to anyone; not that you want to anyway, you want to keep him to yourself though it feels nice to be able to roll it off your tongue again. It feels freeing, especially in his presence.

Maybe he missed hearing his name in your voice, because his eyes smile at the sound before he even turns to face you. The letters ring nicely, like his name is something he can feel caressing his skin when you’re the one saying it.

“You’re here.” He automatically leans forward after you sit down next to him; the usual gravitational force that always pulls you together is another thing he was anticipating to experience again.

His one arm goes over your shoulders and the sudden warmth enveloping you makes your knees weak. The truth is, they were already weak from the steps you had to take to reach your table, but now they feel like they’re about to melt.

Being so close to him months later feels like it’s your first date all over again. You hate it and love it all at the same time.

“I just ordered your favorite,” he says and you can hear the slight note of pride in his smooth voice.

His hair is covered from a black cap which he eventually takes off before running a hand through his hair; it grabs your attention with a new color that you haven’t seen him with in person before.

You point out the obvious fact about how he still remembers your order as you take a minute to observe the attractive features that make up the face you learned to love.

“Of course I do,” he simply replies, leaning in for a kiss.

The first kiss after three and a half months. It feels so exciting and electrifying, just like the very first one you had a year ago, but at the same time it feels familiar too - like you’re reminiscing on a comforting memory you haven’t looked back on for a while.

His hand slides up your thigh, then travels up your hip only to sneak in discreetly beneath your shirt, sending you pleasant shockwaves. Soon enough he breaks the kiss though, careful not to bring any unnecessary attention on you.

“Next month I’m gonna have a week off.” Taehyun speaks up after a moment of silence between the two of you. After a sip of his beer, he continues: “I was thinking that you can come visit me if you want.”

Yes… Yes. You do. You want to scream it out loud. But the only thing you do is breathe in, staring inside the cup of your cocktail; trying to force yourself to speak before your mind turns blank.

“You don’t need to worry about money,” he adds as he shifts his gaze to you, hopeful and anticipating of your response. “It’s all on me, baby.”

There it is - the reminder you needed before giving any answers. His money, his fame. His life that’s so unfitting to yours. The pink balloon you found yourself in for a moment as he shared about his plan, tempting you to naively build dreams about your one week together, it pops, and brings you back to the harsh reality.

“Tae…” You shake head, “no matter what we do or tell each other we can’t be normal.”

Taehyun’s brows furrow at your choice of word.

Normal.

“This has to end at some point, I don’t think we should complicate things any further… as we’ve already said before.” You exhale deeply after blurting out the things you’ve been practicing on your way here. He didn’t hear the sound that escaped your lips because of the music mixed with the chatter, but if he did, he’d have known that saying all of this cost you an immense amount of energy.

You don’t glance at him even once, but Taehyun on the other hand can’t stop staring at you like he’s in some sort of a bad dream that’ll end soon if he’s patient enough.

“Right, right…” He nods, finally able to force his eyes somewhere else. He peers down at his hands on the table that begin to tap nervously at the wooden surface, sharing almost the same rhythm as his heartbeat. “You’re right, that’s the wisest thing to do.”

You know it is, but hearing him agree turns out to be more painful than you expect.

For the best, this has to end soon, you remind yourself. Maybe not tonight, but tomorrow.

“I missed you,” Taehyun rises your body temperature through raspy whispers and open mouthed kisses which he scatters onto your skin almost in a rush; as if you’re going to disappear from his hands if he dares to slow down. “Missed you so fuckin’ much...”

His soft lips trace a path from your neck down to your cleavage and soon enough he’s even lower, running his tongue against your stomach before kissing that area sensually too. The slight moisture slipping from the corners of his mouth in addition to the delicate sucks makes you shudder as he simultaneously tugs on your underwear.

“Missed this sweet pussy too,” he invites his fingers into your walls effortlessly. His gaze focuses upon your lips and how they open for a silent gasp as he glides through with ease because of your already collected arousal. “Did she miss me?”

While anticipating an answer, Taehyun swirls his tongue inside his mouth before letting a string of saliva fall right onto your clit; he smears it all over your folds, provoking your thighs to open even wider for him.

“Tae—“ You arch spine, emphasising your need for something more than this lingering rush that’s growing in a pace that’s not quite enough for how much you ache for his touch right now. “Please…”

“I think she did.” A lustful spark shimmers in his eyes as his hand maintains its delicate motions. The movements make you moan every time his fingertips reach your sensitive bundle of nerves before slipping back down again. “Say it.”

At once he meets your eyes as his frame eventually hovers over your naked flushed body.

Your hands relax on his broad shoulders as your focus fixates on his face. Hopefully there’s not as much pain into your eyes as there is in your heart in this moment. You don’t want him to know how much exactly you’re actually hurting.

“I missed you every day,” you whisper softly as your noses touch; your mouths search for each other, thirsty for the other’s taste even more now. When you feel his hand guiding his cock to your entrance your breathing catches, but you still manage to repeat it. “Of course, I missed you.”

The second he hears your words, Taehyun crashes his lips against your mouth. Because he cannot bare hearing this one more time or because he enjoys the sound of it too much - he’s not able to tell.

As he leads the kiss swiftly your legs wrap loosely around his hips and your warm walls immediately squeeze onto him as he quickens the pace, eager to make up for all the time you were away from each other.

“Fuck—“ He grunts at the growing pleasure that he reminisced about night after night before breathing out against your neck: “Finally… I swear to god nobody else can make me feel this way.”

His voice, husky and domineering despite his on going confessions, echoes in your fuzzy mind. Although you shouldn’t, you put in all the effort you can into memorising each word he says; you hold onto it tightly as the continuous thrusts gradually turn more rigid and sharp causing your nails to sink into his shoulder blades. However, as amazing the buzzing sweet wave inside you feels, you cannot suppress the sadness that’s about to overpower you first.

You swallow another failed attempt to fight back the bitter emotion, but you can feel it lingering everywhere - in your heart, inside your stomach, on your tongue once he slows down his hips to grip your face, and inside your throat that feels like it’s closing up.

“Why are you crying?”

Taehyun peers into your eyes that are sparkling at him with a bittersweet emotion which he hasn’t gotten used to seeing inside them. His gaze lowers to your puffy lips, trembling as they separate with hesitation.

“I… I don’t know what’s gotten to me, sorry,” your arms wrap tighter to pull him closer. His thumb caressing your wet cheek only makes it worse for you. “Please, k-keep going.”

“Sweetheart,” he whispers under his breath as he fulfills your wish by resuming his thrusts - more forcefully though to distract you from the sorrow, “I’ll make it go away now, okay? Focus on me, baby.”

You grasp his shoulders while the delight starts to numb your mind with each intense push of his cock. The hits against your sweet spot are fast and strong enough to weaken your memory right away.

“There you go,” Taehyun’s pants blend with your whimpers ringing beneath him as the tears on your skin begin to dry. “Such pretty eyes, look at me, love.”

Something about seeing you cry for the first time made his heart clench, and now his mind fogs up, leaving him with only one goal - to make you cum as many times as possible so you can’t think of anything for the rest of the night.

Right now, he’d erase every single thought from your brain if he knows he’s capable of doing so.

The moment he feels you’re tightening up Taehyun’s eyes open so he doesn’t miss out on one flinch of yours.

“Yeah, I’m here, baby,” he murmus, trying to keep moving forward while your peak lasts, causing you to quiver beneath his frame. “Let go, baby, I’m right here.”

Yes, he’s here, and tomorrow morning he’s still going to be here, but you’ll be gone, because this time if he tries to stop you like all the previous times, you’re not going to look back.

But for now, you and Taehyun are close as you’ve never been before.

! please do not repost, copy or translate my works

! please keep in mind that english is not my first language. i apologise for any mistakes i’ve might missed

[childrenofcain-if]

ENOUGH WITH THOSE TWO PRETTY BEST FRIENDS (C AND D), I WANT MY SAD LITTLE MEOW MEOW TO HAVE SOME SPOTLIGHT TOO 🤩 GIVE US SOMETHING WHOLESOME FOR W

(I was sold the second they showed up in a Leon Kennedy costume 🥴)

you were sitting across from W on their bed; camera equipments, scripts, piles of books and notebooks with creased covers and fraying edges surrounding the bedroom. W had taken to picking at the threads of their sweater’s sleeves, their fingers moving as if on autopilot, focused on you but never meeting your eyes for too long. they seemed to vibrate with some constant, buzzing energy; as if they were always on the edge of fleeing, some part of them always afraid that if they stayed still for too long, you’d deem them a weirdo and never even come near them again.

but that was just W, wasn’t it? this perpetual stillness tangled with nervous energy, like a candle whose flame kept shifting in the draft. they were here with you, yet part of them never fully settled, never quite willing to let the fear drop. you wondered if anyone else would’ve noticed the subtleties in W’s tension, the small way their shoulders lifted with every breath, or the way their fingers twisted in the fabric of their own sweater until their knuckles turned as white as their bones.

they’d made an awkward joke about their suitemate’s sleeping habits and you laughed, even though it wasn’t really that funny. to many people, the sound may not be particularly remarkable. to W, it was thunder and music, the thing that called them back from the dark, the thing they had been chasing since you two were children.

W’s feelings for you were a slow-burn disaster, a shipwreck that had been happening for years, filling up their life inch by inch. they thought about it sometimes like it was an oil spill, like they’d let it overflow so many times that now there wasn’t a place left in the ocean that wouldn’t catch fire if somebody struck a match.

they couldn’t pinpoint exactly when they’d decided they loved you; it felt like one day they just looked at you, and it was there, woven into the intricacies of their soul before there was even a possibility of your existence. loving you was as natural as breathing, as irreversible as rain hitting the ground.

you were now talking about something—a memory, something you’d done last winter, maybe—and W nodded along, but their mind drifted to how you looked under that sunlight filtering through their canary yellow blinds. it cast you in softened shadows and highlights, picking out every contour of your face and making you look like heaven’s teardrop.

you were lovely in a way that hurt to look at. W never said it, but they thought it a lot: that you were beautiful in a way that was calm and quiet and fierce all at once, like moonlight on water or fireflies in the middle of july.

it struck them sometimes, like a hammer to their ribs, that they’d been in love with you for most of their life. and how foolish it was, really, to be so irrevocably caught up in someone else amongst the innocence of their youth. but W had grown up with nothing they’d dared love—at least, not out loud.

their parents had taught them that love was a trap, that care was a weakness, and even as a kid, they’d been wary of wanting anything too much. of course, not that it stopped their heart from experiencing that want, that need.

your presence beside them always felt surreal though, like it was something that should have only ever existed in a dream. and yet, here you were, next to them, every slight brush of your skin a shock against their nerves. it was so light, yet for W, each touch, each accidental graze of your arm against theirs, was like lightning in the form of wistful wisteria petals.

they wanted to reach for you. they wanted to bridge that space, fold into you like they had as a kid, when it was easier to say “i’m scared” and let you chase away the dark. when it was okay to lean on someone and just be.

but things were different now. W wasn’t a kid anymore. and the years had left scars on them, scars they were unsure if you could even see. you hadn’t been there for the worst of it—those hollow, hungry days where they’d gone without sleep, without food, when they’d let their body waste away because somehow they thought it might make them someone worthy to be sticking around for.

feeling unlovable, feeling like they had to be smaller, quieter, like they had to take up less space just to avoid being left alone all over again.

they looked down at their hands, the bony angles of their fingers, the thinness that never seemed to go away, no matter how much they tried to pretend they were fine. they knew what they looked like—what they had done to themself, without ever really meaning to... what they continued to do to themself while meaning to.

but you were here now, and that was enough, wasn’t it? somehow, it felt like it might be.

the conversation lulled, and there was a warmth to the silence, like the sun spilling in through the window was made just for the two of you. W took a breath, carefully, as if they were holding something delicate in their hands, as if breathing too loud might shatter every single thing in the room.

they dared to reach out then, just barely brushing their hand against yours. your skin felt warm, grounding, something that pulled them back down from the dark place their thoughts so often took them. and it felt almost wrong, this simple touch, like they were stealing something precious. but you didn’t pull away; instead, you turned your hand over and let their fingers slip into yours.

“hey,” you said, voice soft, barely above a whisper, and W’s heart stuttered in a way that made them feel like it wasn’t so irreparable after all. “are you okay?”

“sometimes,” they started, the words tumbling out before they could stop them, “i forget that you’re real.”

you blinked at them, surprised. “what do you mean?”

they shifted, feeling awkward, feeling seen. “i mean this. being here with you. it feels like a dream, and i’m terrified of waking up.”

a faint smile touched your lips. “this is real, W. i’m real. we’re real.”

and they knew that, in some rational part of their mind. but knowing it didn’t stop the way their heart twisted in knots.

“you were the only good thing i ever managed to dream up amongst my nightmares,” W murmured, a confession they hadn’t even meant to give, something that slipped out like it had been there all along, waiting.

your hand tightened around theirs, and their chest didn’t feel so tight anymore, the edges of their thoughts not so cutting. with you, the bad dreams faded, the fears dulled, and the ashamed parts of themself grew just a little softer.

they remembered when you two used to have sleepovers, how you’d sleep side by side, and they’d wake up feeling safe, as if just being near you could make all the bad things go away. even now, all these years later, they knew they sleep better with you beside them.

“elmo?” you said, bringing them back. your gaze was gentle, the kind of look that made them feel seen, like you weren’t just looking at them but through them, into the places they only laid bare for you.

“yeah?” their voice was rough, the sound scraping out of them like it was pulled from the depths of their very soul.

“i’m really happy you’re still here,” you said, simple and honest.

insecurity twisted in their chest, old and familiar, a reminder of all the ways they’d been told they weren’t enough, weren’t wanted. the shadows of their parents’ abrupt abandonment lingered, whispering that they’d never be worthy of love, never be more than something to be picked up and quickly discarded. but here you were, your hand in theirs, anchoring them, making them dare to believe the contrary.

W tried to laugh it off, the awkwardness seeping into their voice. “you don’t have to say that just because i look like i might be having a breakdown soon.”

you shook your head, your gaze soft but fierce. “no, i mean it. i love you, elmo, cross my heart. and i’ve also… i’ve also missed you. a lot.”

“i love you too, cross my heart twice. and...” W swallowed, their throat tight, sapphire blue eyes shimmering. “i missed you a whole lot more. more than i can put into words.”

for a moment, there was only silence. you squeezed their hand again, and W looked at you, really looked, as if memorizing every detail, every line and shadow of your face. there was that familiar softness in your eyes, a warmth they didn’t think they deserved, but they couldn’t bring themself to let go of it. not yet. so they betrayed their self-effacing mind yet again, just this once.

and then, almost as if testing the waters, they whispered, “you know, this is a little embarassing to admit but i’ve always slept better when you were around.”

you simply smiled. “me too.”

the two of you laid your head down together, hand in hand, and when sleep finally claimed the tired blonde, all they dreamt of was you.

[starfxkrinc]

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jj said you spooked him sometimes. not ever on purpose, but you were so quiet. moving around the house swiftly on the tips of your toes to the point he never heard you coming.

“keep spookin the shit outta me and im gettin you a bell.” he laughed when he said it, pinching your cheek with a goofy grin before we turned back to the table he was setting up. so you didn’t think twice about it, not when he jumped out of his skin when you brushed past him in the kitchen or when he let out a yelp when you appeared in his vision as he worked on your car.

but you could sense his growing frustrating—his laughs turned to scoffs and his smile was tight when you gave a half hearted apology. it wasn’t your fault, you’d always been quiet.

you guess the last straw was the other night. jj woke up at 2am to you not in bed, so he searched for you, you weren’t in the bathroom and you weren’t in the kitchen, chugging a jug of strawberry milk. his heart raced, you had to be there somewhere and it wasn’t like you to disappear like this. by the time he checked outside to still not get a glimpse of you he was panicking and breathing so hard his vision tunneled.

only for him to let out a loud “fuck!” when he got back to your room and there you were, buried under the pillow, asleep again. the next morning you told him you walked right behind him, standing in the doorway and you figured he just needed fresh air.

it took him an hour to settle his heartrate enough to sleep. and in that hour he made a decision.

jj had to get it right, so he snatched one of your necklaces off the counter, tucking it in his pocket as he made his way to the general pet store, nose crinkling at the familiar pet smell. it didn’t take him long, finding a collar with a little bell on it, small enough to sit in the base of your throat, the actual collar was just big enough to be comfortable.

when he took it to the cashier, she made a comment, “didn’t know you got a cat jj. i always took you for a dog guy.”

jj shrugged, “little bitch snuck up on me what can i say.” and with a pop of his gum the conversation was over. he ignored how uncomfortable she looked after that.

getting you in it was another story—he looked too smug, hovering over where you sat on the couch reading.

“got you something.”

you eyed him warily, “got me what…”

he produced the offending item from his pocket, and your stomach churned as hill smile got wider.

“so you stop creepin around the house like some…creep.”

“no…no i dont wanna wear it.” you shook your head fast, your body tensing up to bolt, “jj you’re a dick this ain’t funny.”

“who’s laughin?”

you make it about 3 strides before he catches you, knocking you to the ground and locking your hands to your sides with his knees as you both struggle.

“c’mon, stop fightin you know i’ma win, just relax and let me. put it. on!”

you were wild—biting and scratching in an attempt to push him away, but he’s gotten stronger and he’s gotten meaner so all it takes is a palm against your face, pressing you hard into the floor for him to get it on you.

“fuck! bit the fuck outta me damn, i’m just tryna make shit easy on both of us.” jj bends the plastic of the fastener, knowing the second he gives you an inch you’ll rush to take it off.

and you do, tears of anger and frustration sliding down your face as you beg him to let you go, “just take it off please, i wasn’t trying to worry you i promise but i can’t walk around like this.”

jj’s flushed red, his face damp and sweaty with welts rising on his cheek and arm from where you scratched him, “tough titty kid, it’s for your own good.”

in a split second you go from begging to anger, cursing and swinging on him again.

“you’re a fucking piece of shit. fucking scumbag i’m not a goddamn animal i should kick your fuckin ass.”

rolling his eyes he gets up and shrugs, “you can try. at least this time i’ll hear you.”

after that you become real ornery, dodging kisses and sticking pillows between you while you slept to keep him away. jj could hear you all the time now—a soft jingle punctuated by a growl of frustration or a series of manic curses. and he looked pleased. of course he did. because he found a way to get over on you. and the scissors couldn’t cut through the thick fabric of the collar and when he caught you with the knife to your neck trying to saw it off he basically attached his carabiner to your belt loops to keep you close.

you were officially collared and leashed.

and jj could only stand the fighting so long.

“i know you’re mad at me, but you can’t stay mad.” jj muttered in between kisses to your face, his calloused hand cradling the other one to keep you close—this was as close as you’ve let him get in days, and it was only because he caught you after a shower all soft and languid. he knew he was playing a dangerous game letting his thumb rub against your bottom lip.

“fuckin watch me—stop!” he bit you. hard. right on the soft apple of your cheek before soothing it with a gentle suck.

“nope, no ya can’t. you don’t get to.” the kisses get lower, trailing down your neck as he slips his thumb in your mouth, “you’re all mine pussycat, i can do what i want.” he punctuates that with another bite, right to your clavicle and he continues to litter you in bites and harsh sucking kisses until your covered in bruises.

that makes you bristle, "no i'm not."

"no?"

"fuck you, i'm not."

gripping your thighs he pulls you closer, and he smirks when he spreads you open. even in the low light he can see the dewy pout of your cunt.

"right."

you barely even fight when he pushes in, all rough and claiming like he has something to prove. maybe he does. because your squeezed tight around him in a way that makes him feel crazy, like you don't wanna let him go. because he's just as much yours as you are his. because you're just as desperate as he is. you missed him. kissing him with sharp teeth and clawing him closer until your pressed so tight you can't tell you you end and he begins.

the room quickly becomes a cacophony of sex-- filled with the wet squelch of your pussy and strangled moans from the back of jj's throat. even when he presses against your stomach to make you whine, even as he grunts into your neck with his teeth bared and his tongue laving over your throbbing pulse point.

nothing's louder than the little bell jingling at the hollow of your throat.

[holylulusworld]

Mr. Dickbeard

Summary: Your boss’s best friend is the worst.

Pairing: Lloyd Hansen x fem!Reader

Warnings: Lloyd being Lloyd, bimbo reader, groping, implied smut

“Bimbo, bring me a coffee,” your boss’s best friend and the worst man you ever met in your life barks your way. He snaps his fingers and waltzes over to your desk. His expensive loafers squeak on the floor, making you wince. “Did you not hear me?”

You purse your lips and reply, “You’re not my boss.” He glares at you as the whole open-plan office falls silent. “Why don’t you get your coffee yourself?”

“BIMBO!” Lloyd Hansen, self-declared master of your life, growls. “I told you to get me coffee!”

“Lloyd, what’s the matter?” Mr. Gentry opened the door to his office to poke his head out. “Do we have an appointment? I thought you were going to be in London for two more weeks.”

“Those idiots didn’t get my humor,” Hansen grumbles under his breath. “These fine gentlemen want to seal the deal with some arrogant fucker! A waste of money and time. Plus, the girls there are uptight as shit. I didn’t get my dick sucked for two weeks.”

You scrunch up your nose and look away. Lloyd Hansen, your boss’s best friend, is just the worst. He’s loud, misogynistic, and a perv. Oh, and he loves to talk about his dick and mustache all the time.

Sometimes you ask yourself why Mr. Gentry is friends with this man. Your boss is a nice guy, always friendly and helpful.

Hansen glares at you. His jaw ticks as your boss calls his name. He doesn’t look away, sneering as you shift in your seat. “Coming. Don’t get your panties in a twist,” he grunts. “I need to take a piss first.”

Scrunching up your nose again, you try to not speak your mind. Most of the time, when you get angry, you start to babble.

“Lloyd, can you just not?” Your boss shakes his head. “Damn, he must’ve had a bad time in London.”

You giggle at your boss’s words. He’s so cute and funny. What a pity he’s married. You could fall for him.

“Could you please get him a coffee with lots of sugar? I think he’ll need it,” Mr. Gentry softly asks. “You must excuse my friend; he speaks before he thinks.”

“Fucking bimbo getting on my fucking nerves,” Lloyd mutters in the restroom. He tried to get a stain out of his pants and took them off. “It’s no use.”

“Uh—Mr. Hansen,” you giggle as you walk in on Lloyd. He’s only wearing a thong, barely hiding anything. You can see his happy trail as his shirt rid up. “Sir, your dickbeard is showing.” You point at his crotch, giggling and snorting as you can see his pubic hair and half of his left sack.

He stares at you, anger in his eyes. “What are you doing at the men’s restroom, bimbo?”

“Sir, this is the ladies’ restroom, and you are dressed inappropriately.” You try to keep the giggle wanting to escape your lips down your throat. Hansen already looks like he’s going to combust as he looks down at his body to adjust his thong.

“I think the boys don’t like this kind of underwear,” you say, and nod to yourself. "Hmm...or...is this a hairnet?” You suddenly say, earning an angry look from Lloyd. “Like the ones in the cafeteria, only for your dickbeard.”

“I can’t believe you can walk upright like a normal human with only half a brain and no filter for your stupid mouth,” he comments and goes back to scrubbing his pants clean.

“Oh, a stain,” you hum and step closer to get a better look at his pants. “What is it? Milk. Cream. Yogurt?”

Lloyd squares his jaw. He won’t tell you that he jerked off in the toilet cubicle like some loser only because he had the chance to yell at you again.

“Maybe you should lick it clean to find out,” he smirks darkly and chuckles as you swipe your index finger over the stain. “Go ahead, put that tongue to better use for once.”

“You know,” you look down at his barely covered crotch and the prominent erection he’s not even hiding. “for a man pretending to hate me, you’re very happy to see me.”

“Shut up, bimbo,” he growls and grabs you by your arms. “I told you not to get cocky, only because I ate that cunt once.”

“Thrice,” you coo and move your hand to his crotch, cupping him roughly. “You can’t get enough of me. I know it.”

“You don’t have enough brain cells to know shit.” He roughly grabs you by your shoulders, trying to push you down on your knees. “The only thing you’re good for is sucking dick.”

“Well, not today,” you smirk and drop your hand from his crotch. “You won’t get any until you apologize.”

You push him off you and twirl around to walk out of the restroom.

“Wait, we aren’t done here. You can’t make me hard and leave me hanging!”

“If you want to get to taste my pussy again, you’ll buy me a fucking diamond ring,” you snap at Lloyd and storm out of the room.

“How did we end up whipped by a bimbo and her pussy,” Lloyd says to himself as he looks at his erection. “You fucker always get me in trouble.”

Tags in reblog.

[dira333]

Old Man and the Sea - Tsukishima Kei x Reader

Best Friend's Brother and confession - for @fuzztacular - for the Milestone Event Week 1 - Words: 4,4k

- Age 4 -

You meet Akiteru first, of course. 

He’s tall for his age, towering over the other kids even at four years old.

“You can play with me,” he declares with a smile when he notices your excellent aim and non existent fear of getting dirty.

“Do you wanna walk home with me?” He asks that first fateful day at kindergarten, your mothers chatting at the gate.

“Sure,” you say and clutch your bag a little tighter, excited to have found a friend on your very first day too.

“Do you have a pet?” Akiteru asks as you walk.

“Yes. We have a turtle. His name is Old Man.”

“That’s so cool!” He grins wide, astonished. “I wish we could have a pet. Or if I could have a sibling. Do you have a sibling?”

“Yes,” you nod. “My sister is older.”

“Oh, that’s cool. Is she nice?”

You think of her, towering above you. How she always does her homework when you want to play, how she doesn’t like when Old Man tries walking into her room.

“Sometimes,” you offer, because last week she helped you bake a cake for Mom and Dad, didn’t snap once even when you accidentally added too much flour.

“If I was a big brother,” Akiteru declares with gusto, “I’d be the best big brother in the world.”

-

“I have to tell you something!” Akiteru declares just a few months later during break time, pulling you with him toward the swings where there’s enough privacy to share secrets. “I’m getting a sibling.”

“Really?” Your heart beats hard in your chest and you smile. It’s hard not to, when Akiteru smiles so brightly himself.

“Really. Oh, I hope it’s a brother. I wanna teach him all my favorite games.”

“You could teach those to a sister too.”

“Sure,” he hesitates for a second. “If it’s a little sister, you need to teach her.”

“What?”

“Like how you do your hair so nice.”

You touch your braid, hesitating. “But my mother did it.”

“Well, you can teach my little sister then.”

And you think, surely you’ll be able to teach her. Surely it won’t be that hard.

-

- Age 5 -

Kei is born at the end of September. You remember it well, because the day had been unexpectedly rainy, drenching you on the way home where your mother sat, phone in her hand.

“Do you need me to get Akiteru? No, no, bring him over. I’m sure they’ll be happy to have each other until everything is done.”

“Akiteru is coming over?” You ask, dripping all over the floor.

“Yes, in a minute. His brother is coming.”

“Where?”

“Here, silly.” Your mother smiles. “He’s about to be born.”

And you wonder what that means all while feeding Old Man with Akiteru, while eating Ramen and watching TV, the rain hammering against the windows as if it’s just as eager as the grown-ups to meet the newest Tsukishima.

You, well… you’re a little more hesitant than eager.

Kei’s red faced and small, his skin wrinkly and weirdly fuzzy.

“He’s ugly,” you point out with surprise, flinching at your mothers disapproving glare.

“He’s just squished,” Akiteru defends his little brother. “I’m sure you looked ugly on your first day too.”

You consider that for a second. You don’t remember what you looked like that day.

Kei raises his voice in the silence, loud and determined and you think that at least he’s got something to say if he’s not good-looking before you’re being ushered out again.

-

To your surprise Akiteru is right.

Kei’s wrinkly skin smoothes out, the red turning into a soft, pale shade. His eyes are a warm brown and he likes to squeeze your pointer finger as if he’s shaking your hand. He grows quickly too, both in seize and weight, turning heavy in your arms whenever Akiteru allows you to carry him.

Kei likes Old Man and the space underneath your bed, crawling in there when you’re all playing in your room. 

He likes your dinosaur plushy and strawberries and sometimes, when everything is quiet and calm and Akiteru and you lay down next to him on his blanket, you wonder if your sister ever looked at you the way Akiteru looks at him or felt the way you do.

That quiet sense of wonder, that prickly feeling of astonishment, that warm love you can’t seem to stop.

-

Akiteru likes Volleyball. You don’t mind it. 

Ever since Dad got you your first Science kit you’ve grown obsessed with digging up rocks and examining the minerals, or picking bugs from trees to identify them under your little microscope. 

Little Kei has no choice but to share those interests.

Even at three years old he does his best to receive his brother’s spikes, not once crying when it hits him in the face.

“Look what I found,” he tells you on the daily, delivering a shiny beetle to your waiting hands or putting away the rocks you find in the park when your mothers eyes are averted, knowing she’ll never check his bags as thoroughly as she checks yours.

When you have to do a report on your best friend in school you hesitate for a moment. Is it Akiteru or is it Kei? 

-

- Age 10 -

You’re ten years old when your parents separate and although you don’t understand the full extent of it, you know you’ll always prefer your father over your mother. 

So when they ask you who you want to live with, it’s not a hard choice. 

It should have been, though, because no one told you your father was going to move you, away from Miyagi with it’s wide, open landscape and away from Akiteru and Kei.

“You’re going to visit, right?” Akiteru asks, so much taller than you already, both arms on your shoulders as he tries to instill something inside of you, maybe a sense of peace or belonging or something else.

Kei’s tall for his age and you often forget how young he still is, looking eight at barely five years old.

But he acts his age now, snotty nosed and crying, dirty hands curled around yours.

You’re dear to him like he’s dear to you, you know, and you don’t want to miss him growing even taller.

“You can keep my dino plush,” you promise him. “So you don’t miss me while I’m away.”

“What about Old Man?” He asks. “Are you going to feed him without me?”

“I’ll have to,” you admit glumly. “But I’ll take pictures whenever I can. He’ll not forget you, I’m sure.”

-

It’s hard, seeing them only once a month when you’re with your mom, even more so when she tries very hard to capitalize the little time you have in Miyagi.

“I’m trying to build a family here,” she tells you more than once when you’re on your way out and over to the Tsukishima’s. “You can’t just leave for the neighbours every time you’re here.”

But Kei grows so fast you feel like you’re missing everything and Akiteru’s got a new best friend at school you don’t know and can’t she understand that’s more important right now?

- - -

- Age 15 -

Something has changed this year. 

The House of the Tsukishima’s is quiet as you turn up, no Kei running down the stairs to greet you, no Akiteru training in the garden out front.

“Hello?” You yell into the quiet. “Anyone home?”

“Oh, sweetpea.” Their mother steps out from the kitchen. She looks older, much older than you remember. Has it really been just a month that you haven’t seen her?

“You’re growing so much,” she points out as if it means anything in comparison to her sons. “How’s school?”

“Good. Where are Akiteru and Kei?”

“Oh,” her brows furrow. “Probably in their rooms.”

“But it’s so nice out.”

“Yeah,” she sighs. “I know.”

You trample up the stairs with impatient steps, knock on Kei’s door first because it’s closer to the stairs. 

“What?!”

“It’s me,” you tell him, supply your name after an alarmingly long pause. “Can I come in?”

“Fine.”

You swing the door open to find him on his bed, reading. He’s grown yet again and the thick-rimmed glasses make his eyes look big, their brown still warm and reassuring even though all of him is cold and angry.

“What are you doing?”

“Reading.”

“What about?”

“Stuff.”

“Are you mad at me?”

“No,” he huffs before hesitating. “Maybe. Did you know Akiteru-” He hesitates again. “Did you know Akiteru stopped playing Volleyball?”

“What?!”

“Yes,” he seems braver now in the face of your surprise. “He kept telling us he’s the ace at his Volleyball Club but he’s not even a starting player.”

“Oh no.” 

“Yes,” Kei’s voice is wet now. “It’s so lame.”

You sit with him for a while, pretending not to notice the tears rolling down his cheeks as you try to understand the world. Akiteru, lying? That’s unheard of. 

-

“Whatever!” Akiteru snaps when you ask him about it. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Yes it is,” you insist. “That’s a lie! You never lie!”

“I had to,” he bites back. “Like anyone would have still liked me if they knew I wasn’t even good enough to play!”

“I would have liked you.”

“Sure,” he scoffs. “But you’re never here anyway.”

“That’s not my fault.”

He falters at that, softens around the edges to the point he just drops where he’s standing, just a heavy weight on his bedroom floor.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve got science. I only had Volleyball. Turns out I’m not even good at it.”

“Just because someone’s better doesn’t mean you’re no longer good.”

Akiteru scoffs again. “It’s not the same. You’re not the same.”

And maybe he’s right. 

You’ve finally found friends in your new hometown, some girls from your english class that like to dress up with you and go shopping and there’s the Science Club that you attend that has a lot of funny guys in it that invite you to Game Nights. 

You feel like you’ve finally found a foundation to build onto only to find your old friendships crumbling.

“I’m sorry.”

Akiteru looks conflicted. “You don’t have to be sorry about that. It’s okay… I think.”

- - -

- Age 20 -

“Hey, I’m driving back to Miyagi this weekend,” Akiteru declares as he picks you up from Lab. “Do you wanna come?”

“Uh,” you check your calendar. “Sure, why not. Anything new?”

“Yeah,” he smiles, wide and excited. “Kei’s playing Volleyball for real now.”

You snort. “He’s been playing for a while now, what’s the difference?”

“You don’t get the difference, because you never took it serious. But I can tell it means something to him. He’s started caring again.”

“Oh,” you think of Kei, the one you knew as a little boy and the cold, difficult preteen he turned into five years ago. “I’m curious.”

-

You can see it too, now. It’s in the way he holds himself up, shoulders wide and proud. It’s in the way he talks to his mother, his best friend - adorable Yamaguchi who always blushes like crazy in your vicinity - and his brother. It’s in the way he talks to you. Like he means what he’s saying. Like he almost dares to be vulnerable again.

“How’s Old Man?” He sidles up to you after Dinner, Yamaguchi already on his way back home. Your Futon waits to be unfolded but you’re not that tired yet and he doesn’t seem to be either.

“Good.” His shoulder presses into yours, warm and steady, like a promise.

It’s still there, that feeling you first felt when sleeping next to him as a child, that quiet sense of wonder, that prickly feeling of astonishment, that warm love you can’t seem to stop. Friends, you remind yourself. You’re friends. More like siblings, really.

“How’s school?”

Kei tells you all about it. How annoying Hinata and Kageyama are, too loud and too talented and too dumb at the same time. How their managers are so vastly different in their characters and yet both so trustworthy at the same time. And although he does not say it out loud, you can read the worry between his sentences. What will happen once the Third Years Graduate? 

“You’re doing amazing,” you smile and he reciprocates, a tiny, quiet, warm moment just for the two of you.

-

And Kei is just a friend, you keep reminding yourself.

When you go watch his Matches with Akiteru, laugh when Saeko Tanaka not so subtly asks if you’re interested in Akiteru before she advances on him herself. 

When you watch him grow even taller, prouder, more sure of himself.

When you attend his graduation and wonder just how it could happen, how tiny, ugly Kei could turn into this.

-

- Age 25 -

You’re dating a coworker by the time Kei starts College. 

Masayuki is not the most romantic, but neither are you. He plays volleyball after work so he and Akiteru are well acquainted, though not as close friends as you’d like them to be.

Old Man lives with you now, just the quiet companion you need for your after work studies, for lounging on the floor with a good book, or wondering about how the world works at the quiet hours of the night.

It’s a quiet life, filled with too much work for too little pay, but you get payed to look at rocks for a living, so you don’t want to complain too much.

-

“I’m leaving in half an hour,” you tell Masayuki over the phone as you’re getting ready. “Do you want to come?”

“To what?”

“Kei has a game,” you pull a sweater over your head and decide against it immediately. That color really washes you out.

“Okay.”

“Okay you’re coming or okay you have other plans?”

Silence.

“Masayuki?”

“I’m just wondering why you attend all his games.”

“Well it’s Kei.”

“Sure,” he doesn’t sound sure. “But-”

“What?” You stand there, topless, staring at the bright display of your phone, the background not one of the few pictures you have with Masayuki but one taken after a big win, Kei’s arms slung around you and Akiteru, face pressed together. 

Something drops low in your stomach and you know, even before he speaks up again, that something just changed.

“Don’t you think it’s weird?”

“Weird?” You repeat, your voice empty.

“Yeah, how you… how much you care about Kei. I thought maybe it’s because he’s a Division 2 player and I get that, our games are not as big or flashy or important, but it’s in other things too.”

“Other things,” you echo and he talks on, seemingly encouraged by your answers.

“Yeah, like… you’re not one to go out much and I get that, I’m the same, but when Kei calls you’re always up to go to whatever College Party he’s inviting you. Remember how you had that trip with your mother that you wouldn’t cancel for me?”

You remember it well. You cancelled your family trip because Kei had tickets for the Jurassic World Premiere. In your defense, Jurassic World Premiere’s only happen once, your mother will keep bugging you forever.

“That’s different.”

“Is it?” His Question seems to grow in the Silence, multiply into a hundred voices all screaming at you. Is it? Is it? Is it?

“If it would be Akiteru, I could understand, you know? You grew up together, you’re the same age, I’d think you’re into him.”

He doesn’t add any more words, doesn’t have to.

You’re five years older than Kei.

“Don’t you think it’s weird?” Masayuki asks now and your stomach clenches so violently you fear throwing up.

“I’ve never thought about it,” you tell him. It’s not a complete lie but not the whole truth either.

“Well, you should. And I- maybe we should take a break… while you figure it out.”

His voice is too casual. He’s thought about this in great detail, it seems.

“Okay.”

“Okay.” You can hear him sigh. “Take care, okay?”

“You too.”

The connection ends with a click and it’s ironic, it really is, that that’s all that’s left of your almost one year relationship. Just the Silence after, and the stale test of old secrets.

You: Hey, I’m afraid I can’t come to your game tonight. Period came early and it’s wreaking havoc on me. So sorry! But you’ll rock it without me, I’m sure!

Kei: What a shame. Shark week truly has the worst timing. Take care, okay? I’ll check in on you later. Koganegawa says Hi.

You stare at his message for far too long, curl up under your blanket and watch Old Man walk tireless circles around your bedroom.

Masayuki’s words dance like demons through your brain until you fall asleep.

You wake in the middle of the night to soft knocking on your door and a familiar voice.

“It’s me, Kei. Are you up?”

You don’t dare move, don’t dare to come face to face with him so soon. 

“Don’t you think it’s weird?” His question is heavy on your heart. Does Kei think that too? Maybe you are. Maybe you’ve been his weird big sister for a while, sitting too close at family gatherings, always there at every game because you can’t seem to stay away.

Maybe he’s never had the courage to tell you to take a step back.

Maybe, and that hurts the most, you’re the reason he still doesn’t have a girlfriend yet. Because you’re holding on to tight. Because you’re acting weird about it. Because-

“I’ll check on you in the morning, okay?” Kei’s voice cuts through the turmoil in your head like a hot knife through butter. “Sleep tight. Take care of her, Old Man, okay?”

In the morning you’ll find chocolate and painkillers in a bag tied to your doorhandle and a good morning text on your phone. 

You do your best ignoring both.

-

“What’s up with you?”

You turn, surprised to find Akiteru at your desk.

“Hi to you too. Do you need a report on any minerals?”

“No, I’m here to check if you’ve turned into a fossil yourself.”

“Geology,” you point at yourself. “You need to ask Kei about Fossils.”

Akiteru rolls his eyes. “You know what I’m talking about.”

“No.”

He snorts. “You’re ghosting us. Me and Kei and probably your other friends too, but I don’t have their numbers to check.”

“I’m not doing anything like that.”

“Please,” he scoffs now. “You’ve missed two of Kei’s games. That’s unheard of. If Masayuki said anything-”

“Can we just not talk about it?” You interrupt him, grabbing your bag and ushering him out. You don’t really want to be the lab gossip for the next month.

“I think we should.”

“Oh no,” you shake your head, pushing him along. “I was the middle man of your stupid fight for years, you owe me.”

Akiteru’s face falls. “Damn, it’s serious if you pull that card. Really, what did he say?”

“What makes you think he said something?”

“He mentioned something at training. He let me know that you’re no longer together, but that it was a mutual decision and that the reason should stay private for your sake.”

You huff out an unamused laugh. “That Shithead.”

“So?” Akiteru’s eyes are warm and honest, but you swallow the need to tell him.

“You’re biased, I can’t tell you.”

“Please, when have you ever not told me something? I know everything about you.”

“Ah,” you turn your face away. “Sure.”

“Well, if you don’t want to tell me, can you at least call Kei? He’s been in a mood all week. He deserves to know you’re not mad at him.”

“Maybe I am.”

“Oh,” Akiteru whistles a tune. “That’s new. You’ve never been mad at him once.”

You falter. “Surely that’s wrong.”

“Nope. Can’t remember a single time.”

“Well,” your stomach churns as you speak, as you try to make your lie sound more believable. “That’s how it is with little siblings, right? They can never do anything wrong.”

And you wish you didn’t look Akiteru in the face as you said it, because you can see it so clearly in his eyes. He knows you’re lying. 

So you turn on your heel and walk back inside, relieved and disappointed at the same time that he’s not following you.

Kei: I’ve bought too much Lettuce, I’m bringing some over after training.

Kei: Left the Lettuce outside. Did you remove your spare key from under the rug?

-

Kei: Hey, didn’t see you at the Match tonight, are you still not feeling well?

-

One missed call from: Kei

-

Kei: You’re really starting to worry me, what’s going on?

-

Kei: I’m giving you one last chance to call me back.

-

The sound of a key turning has you look up from your book, frozen in your spot on your bed. Old Man’s munching on his lettuce, too focused to care.

“Hello?” You ask into the quiet of your apartment, heart hammering against your ribcage. 

The door opens soundlessly. Kei’s head almost knocks against the top of the doorframe as he steps through, hair disheveled, glasses speckled with raindrops. He stops in his tracks when he sees you and you wish he wouldn’t, wish he’d give you a moment to regain your composure, rain in your heart that tries to crash out of your chest at the sight of him.

He’s too tall and too broad, his hair too pale-golden like the moonlight and the worry in his eyes too thick to swallow.

“What’s going on?” Kei asks, breaking the spell. You shift your gaze to the page in front of you, unseeing. Can he read your eyes as well as you think you can read his.

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t.” 

He sighs, clearly exhausted. At this time, he must have come here right after training, maybe even skipped the shower.

“Look if Akiteru said something-”

Your head lifts, surprise gurgling through your veins.

Kei’s wringing his hands now, a nervous gesture you’ve never seen on him before. He’s looking at Old Man instead of you, lips moving without making a sound.

“Just because Masayuki broke up with you doesn’t mean he has to rush things, I mean-” He hesitates and your confusion grows.

“I’m not following you, I-”

He gestures for you to stop, pulls a chair out from your kitchen table and sits down across from you, shoulders hunched under an invisible weight, cheeks burning red.

“I’m going to make this quick, okay, because I’d rather not make myself suffer anymore than necessary but- I like you. I’ve liked you since I knew what that meant. And I know I’m much younger, but I’m not a child and I’m mature for my age and if you’d give me a chance I’d make sure you’d never regret it-”

“What?”

Kei takes your hand and you can feel the tremor going through his limbs as he does.

He licks his lips.

“Would you date me? Yes or no. You can say no, I’ll get over it, I promise.”

“Y-yes, I mean wait, what?”

Kei’s eyes are open and vulnerable. You’re reminded of that one night five years ago, when he started caring again, when he sidled up to you after dinner, one shoulder pressed into yours. Your fingers twitch and curl around his as if they already know what your brain hasn’t processed yet.

“You like me?” You turn your eyes to the floor, too overwhelmed with the truth swimming in his. “You like me? It’s not weird?”

You can feel him shrug but his hand doesn’t let go.

“I mean, maybe it’s weird, but who cares? I’m pretty sure Akiteru is dating Saeko and that’s weird too.”

You laugh, the sound breaking free from you.

“You like me,” you repeat, reaching out with your other hand to find his already moving toward you. “You like me.”

“Should I repeat it too or is it enough if you do it for me?” Kei’s sarcasm is softer now, just a little teasing. You smile and he smiles back and you can’t help yourself, have to lean in and touch the red blooming on his cheeks.

“You like me,” you confirm once more, for good measures. “For real.”

Kei snorts. “You sound like a teen.”

“Shush. Did no one teach you how to respect your elders?”

- - -

- Age 26 -

Kei snores. It’s such a tiny tiny detail in the sea of things to know about him, yet you’re so unreasonably fond of it.

He’s doing it right now, one head on your shoulder, his glasses folded in your lap.

“Can you shut sleeping beauty up?” Akiteru asks from the front, clearly annoyed.

“I could, but I don’t want to,” you reply.

Kei’s nose curls as if he’s heard that but he lets out a sigh right after, exhaling softly as he sinks further into you.

“Such a sap,” Akiteru teases you once more and you let it happen.

It’s true after all.

-

“Oh, you’ve grown again,” Tsukishima-san calls out with exasperation at the sight of Kei, pinching his cheeks. “Are you eating enough?”

“Mom!” He cries out, embarrassed. 

“Help me!” He asks you. You just laugh.

“I put your Futon into Kei’s room,” she tells you as the boy carry up the luggage. “I know how he is. He’d just climb through your window if I didn’t and I know your mother. She’d throw a fit.”

“How is she anyway?” You ask. “Did she say anything, about… you know what?”

“Ah,” Tsukishima-san weighs her head left to right. “She was surprised, for sure. I think she always had her mind set on Akiteru. Got me a pretty Yen, you know.”

You gape at her as she snickers, proud of herself. “Oh yes, I knew it right away. That bet’s been going on for almost as long as Kei’s been around.”

“You’re a trickster,” you tell her, not quite sure what you’re supposed to think about it.

“Where do you think Kei gets it from?”

“Gets what from who?” Kei asks, stepping into the kitchen. He’s never far away for long, always eager to close that space again. His hand slides into the back pocket of your jeans now, squeezing your butt. 

You throw him a pointed glare and he grins, the picture of innocence when he’s anything but.

“I can’t tell you without insulting at least one of you,” you huff and he preens while his Mom snickers.

It’s weird, you can’t help but think as they chat, how this house, this family, already feels like home.

Maybe because it always has been. You’d just been a little too shy to grasp it fully.

[mysteriouslyjovialcolor]

Germany 2019

-Oh the last German GP?

-Lewis and Max first row! Pierre in Red Bull. Lando and Sebastian last row?!

-Look at that, they’re racing in the rain. Albeit, starting under safety car

-“Safety car needs to come in already. Come on let’s go” Lewis’ beef against the safety car will never not be funny

-They’ve done like three formation laps or as they’re calling it: “exploration laps”

-“How are conditions Max?” “Yeah, perfect to go, I don’t understand why we are not racing”

Lewis 🤝 Max: wanting to go race

-Haha all of the cars glitched for a second before the start

-And now Max has somehow dropped five places, wth

-Kimi p3 🙌

-Sebastian too, making up many places! P20 to p14!

-Oh Max back to p3!

-Kevin and Checo squabbling…Checo’s in the wall

-This is giving Brazil 2016 with the multiple safety cars

(Try not to compare every wet race to Brazil 2016 challenge failed)

-Sebastian and Alex falling back to p18 and p19 after stopping for tires :/

-Almost every driver pitting now

-Mercedes double stack!

-Holy shit Kevin is p2 (That’s a rare sight to see)

-All of those pit stops shuffled up the lineup so much. Lance is p5, Nico p7, George p9!

-I don’t think the Williams pit because they’re somehow both in the points

-Yeah, George pit now

-Sebastian finally in the points

-Oh shit Danny p17?

-Aah Charles, Kevin, and Nico fighting for p4

-Pierre running wide! he’s fallen to p19 :((

-Kimi’s still as formidable as ever in that Alpha Romeo

-“Raikkonen turned a threat into an opportunity” yesss Kimi!

-“The three at the front are traveling much faster than anyone else”

-Aw I forgot this was Nico’s home race too

-Engine problem for Daniel :/

-Another safety car? Virtual safety car?

-More pit stop games

-“Just be patient Max” GP has got to be the calmest man ever

-“So you are the fastest car on track” Let’s go Charles!

-Carlos slipping off the track??

-“Sorry guys, that was unfortunate” Yeah, top ten to p14

-“Leclerc is now 7 laps off leading this race” Oh?? Are we about to get Max vs Charles??

-Ferrari trying a gamble with Sebastian’s tires

-“They’re in the clouds of the gods now” Sometimes these commentators go unnecessarily hard

-Red Bull playing a gamble too

-“Lando Norris power slide out of the pit” That looked very cool actually

-Max doing an involuntary donut. I’m not sure if that gamble played off

-Oh shit Lando’s lost power. VSC once again

-Charles p2! At least one driver’s strategies are somewhat working

-Ohmygodd he’s out!! I actually gasped out loud! That was so unexpected!!!

-Aaah that sucks so bad

-The actual safety car is back

-I’m still in shock

-Ohmygod this is all so chaotic!

-Lewis almost went into the wall and damaged his front wing!

-The pit crew weren’t ready for him!! They’re scrambling! He’s lost so many places!!

-Nico’s p3 now ohmygod

-This is still lap 30 of 64. We’re not even halfway through

-Valterri pitting as well, Max leading now

-Everyone’s on inters

-Nico p2 at his home race😭 (I’m going to cry when he loses that) (What do I have to do for him to just stay there???)

-I can’t believe Lewis got a 5s time penalty for going on the “wrong side of the bollard at the pit entry”

-How does that even make sense? It’s not like it affected any other car but his

-Alex though! In p4, holding Lewis back in that Toro Rosso

-??? Lewis under investigation again???

-Valterriiiii stay away from Hulkenburggggg

-Noooooo Valterri whyyyy

-Can’t even hope for p3 now because it’s Lewis who’s behind him

-At this point let him just finish the race please

-“Rare to see Kimi Raikkonen making a mistake” Yes, it was devastating (at least he recovered still in the points)

-Someone kill me, Nico’s out

-“That’s so terrible for him! I was just about to say what a phenomenal run he’s having. He would so have deserved to finally maybe have a chance even for a podium because we still don’t know what penalties Lewis is gonna have. Ohmygod, that’s heartbreaking. Poor guy” Me and Nico Roseberg commiserating together

-“I’m still looking forward to Lewis coming up to Bottas now though. That’s going to really really cause internal team battle there; coming up” And Nico R is now hoping for inter-team drama. He moved on pretty fast. I’m still here (crying over Hulkenburg and his dream slipping away right through his fingers)

-“Right call, right tire, right time” Max: the only one carrying me through this race now

-“Nico Hulkenburg never retired from his home race at the German Grand Prix before” Why must they keep rubbing it in??

-“Verstappen’s pitted 4 times in this race so far” This race is actually insane

-I’m actually still sad about Nico. He was so close! God, why does he have such bad luck!

-None of these commentators talking about how Alex casually made up 12 places and has stayed in p4?? In a Toro Rosso?!

-Ohmygod I should just shut up, why’d he loose a place…two places…and he’s gone wide and dropped down to p8; someone kill me.

-Max pitting again????

-Where did Sebastian randomly gain speed from? Ohmygodd Kimi too? They’re p3 and p2?! What is going on???

-Somehow Lance is in p5 all the way from p15. I did not see that coming. He was the only car who pit for slick tires with the safety car earlier and now with everyone pitting again, this has worked out great for him

-Holy shit Lance is leading the race

-Lewis, Kimi, and Sebastian all pit and now Lance is leading and Max is back up to p2 and somehow Daniil Kvyat is p3 and just set the fastest lap

-Wet races always bring so many surprises. This is all so insane. I feel like I’ve just hallucinated half of this

-Max leading again

-I forgot about Lewis’ penalty 😭 The grid positions changed so drastically, it almost feels like it got reversed

-“How has it got this bad?” Honestly Lewis I actually don’t know

-Aww kinda wanted Lance to stay p2, he missed out on it so narrowly last time he was on the podium

-Haha Valterri about to take p3 from him now, he’s the one who took p2 from his last time I think, if I remember correctly

-Checo looking on from the pit box>>

-Oh shit Valterri is out! God, Mercedes are not having a good race are they? Lewis in p14 (last) pitting again (his sixth time) and Valterri out

-This safety car probably not going to help Lance keep podium position, what with Carlos and Sebastian right behind him at the restart

-“Good for the smaller teams. This is their kinda day” Don’t I know it (maybe it’s something about pink teams?)

-Aah Sebastian right behind Lance now! If he makes podium now he’d have gone from p20 to p3!

-And he’s done it!!

-Oh bloody hell, Pierre’s gone off. He’s not having a fun day either

-Ohmygod Sebastian p2!!! Imagine if he wins?!!

-“And you’re either wearing orange this weekend or red” yesss, the orange army going wild!!

-It is so insane to me that seven cars are out

-Honestly, Lance p4 is cool too, his race did not start out well (and Carlos p5 🙌)

-I wish Sebastian was still racing 😢

-Genuinely didn’t ever expect to see a Daniil Kyvyat podium; when I was watching the races from the past few seasons he barely finished a race

-This podium is kind of a Red Bull family reunion if you think about it

-‘Tis very cute

(Would be better if Nico had finished the race but I’ll take my wins where I can get them)

(Also! I just looked up the race results again cause I forgot if Kimi placed 6th or 7th and he hasn’t placed either??! Apparently he got a post race penalty for some infringement!? That’s so annoying)

(Oh however, that means Lewis did end up in the points after all)

(The more you know)

(Ohmygod, I just noticed that Fernando is not here?!?? How did I miss that when I watched Brazil 2019?!)

(I’m crashing out. I need sleep)

[thegirlwiththewriting]

Personal vent

Tw I guess

I just need to get this off my chest because it's suffocating me, and everything’s just too much. Also if no one sees this it's okay too cause I just need to write this down I guess, no matter if smone sees it or not.

A year ago my best friend and me fell apart, and she was literally my everything. She never even once lost patience with me and appreciated everything | did. Ofc sometimes she made mistakes, but these were all little nonsenses, I could have ignored. That time I had no idea from life and was just so ungrateful for everything and straight up a shitty horrible person. I said and did so many things that must have hurt her more than I can think off. And then at the end I blamed all the shit on her and why nothing was working in my life. All the time after, I was convinced it was her who ruined everything and why we fell apart, and didn't miss her a bit.

But after that I went through so much shit that made me realize so much things and made me a whole different person.( well I wouldn’t wish it anyone, but for me everything was deserved tbh) Half a year later I was startina to rearet everthing and tried to reach out again. Surprise, ofc I fucked up again, this time not with my cruel behavior, but just idk, I was scared I guess.

Now I suddenly found one of our old chats again. I deleted everything but seems like I forgot this one. And it hurts so fcking bad. I was so ungrateful for everything, and said the most horrible things ever.

The whole last year made me change so so so much, and I can't believe what a shitty person I was back then. I just wish our friendship back, the way we would text until late at night, or how we would go on walks with her dog and then stay at her place and cuddle up while watching Ghibli movies. although I know everything was my fault.

Not in a hundred lifetimes I could make up for everything I did and said, and that's what haunts me so bad. The most I can do for her is to never contact her again, and just idk. But I hate this old self, and I just can't live with the fact that I hurt her so so fucking bad, and probably lots of other people that time too, just because I couldn't appreciate anything, and wasn’t satisfied with myself.

I was clean for months but yesterday I sh myself again, and all the feeling and thoughts I thought left behind me r coming back . It's just, if I wouldn't be here it would be so much better for her and all the people I hurt.

And I don't deserve everything and the remaining people I have rn anyways. I feel like the only way I could make up for all the stuff I did and said is to make sure I'll never do it again, by just disappearing from this world.

I know I would never ever do what l've done back then now, since I know so much more, and I won't hurt anyone in any way ever.

But just the thought of what l've done, and idk but for some reason I could do it again, it makes me despise myself. I don't deserve the people I have rn, and the new friends I made. I don't deserve anything rn. I wish I could think otherwise, but my mind is telling me that the only way to make up and protect the people around me, is to go. Because who says the ungrateful cruel person isn't still somewhere? What if someday I do smth shitty again and hurt too many people?

I‘m falling apart, and idk how to handle anything. And besides all that I’m feeling not rlly good right now generally, and with this weight added now I’m falling apart. I feel like crying 24/7, idk and my mind is just being too loud.

And the most egoistic thing is, all I want is someone to hold me and tell me everything's okay. Also when I know it's not. Also when it's me who hurt eveyone.

[frodopotter7]

The memories of Edwin Payne

(Or an interactive fanfiction)

Note: I had the headcanon that Edwin‘s notebook contains all his personal writing including the writings from his life as an Edwardian boy. So I wrote those entries in his notebook. Now this book is obviously all of Edwin‘s personal thoughts and I thought it would be fun to do a collaboration. So if you are a writer yourself or creative in any other way, feel free to use this entries as a starting point for another fanfiction. For example Charles finding the notebook and reading it or Crystal reading it or anything else. The only rule that I set is that you clearly mark my text and tag me, because first of all it was a lot of effort to write it and secondly I want to see what cool things you came up with. And if you don’t want to creatively interact with this fanfiction, then you can obviously just enjoy it by reading it.

Summary: Edwin Payne‘s most treasured item is his notebook, because it contains so much private information that no one else knows about him. Not even Charles. Including the struggles of a posh, gay, autistic Edwardian boy and his times before hell, in hell and shortly after hell.

Triggers: bullying, implied suicide, dolls

Shipping: Payneland, but you could also include other shipping in your part

The song that I thought of while writing:

One of Edwin’s most treasured objects was definitely his notebook. He had it all the time and he used it for every case they had. It meant a lot to him, since it was with him when he died. It was with him in hell and it was with him in his detective career. The reason why he never gave it to anyone, not even Charles, was that it had been with him even as a child. Well, back then he had several notebooks, but as he died every personal writing of his got transferred into it. The notebook always had enough pages and was still not getting thicker and his pen was always full of ink. And still even though it contained so many different notes, Edwin navigated through it without any problems. It was his own writing after all. His family sigil was carved into the black front cover and the word ‘Payne’ was written underneath it.

If anyone would open it and tried to start from the beginning, he would be greeted with Edwin’s signature under the printed words. ‘Family member:’ After that the handwriting would be harder to read. Scribbly, crossed out spelling mistakes and spilled ink from a little boy, who was writing for the first time. If you manage to identify the words it would read:

1905

Greetings,

my name is Edwin Payne. I am the only child of the family Payne. My father says, that mother wanted more children, but just failed every other time. You probably have heard about my family’s name. The family with the best lawyers of England. When I’m grown up, I will be a lawyer too. Lawyers are like detectives says my father. I like that. I like detectives.

My nanny told me to interact more with others. Why would I need to talk if there is no one to talk to anyways? My parents are often absent and my nanny is just not understanding me. My father says that I am too slow for my age. My motion skills too clumsy. My spoken words only contain information from detective books and I cannot properly respond to people yet. I know a lot of novels by heart though. Others just don’t seem to like talking about crimes as much as I do. Father sometimes lets me have a look in his older cases. They are interesting.

We visited a doctor again today, because of my slow development. We visit him quite often. Actually since I can remember. I don’t feel sick. He says there is nothing wrong with me. Still I know that something is wrong. I overreacted at loud noises. A lot of things stress me out.

1906

I haven’t writing about Cordelia Primrose Surname-von-Hovercraft. She is annoying, loud and a restless soul. She runs around the house and breaks rules just to get the attention. She is a bit younger than me, but that doesn’t justify her actions. I don’t like her. Although sometimes she be helpful. Like the time she stole the biscuit jar and gave me one of the special biscuits. They had to expel one of her nannies for this. But Cordelia had plenty nannies anyways. No one stays long with her. I had my nanny since I was born. I don’t like changes. Cordelia sometimes scares me with ghost stories. She says she would see them and that my fortune says that I will die a painful and early death. I don’t believe in this unscientific nonsense.

I take piano lessons now. It’s is fun. My mother seems to enjoy it. It is somehow the only way to get her attention for me.

Additionally to my regular private lessons I go to school now. Simon obviously needs to be in my class as well. I don’t like him. He bores me and he is too clingy. And sometimes he says mean things to me.

I had an outburst in class. Everything was just so loud and I was frustrated. The teacher hit my finger with the ruler and send me in the naughty corner. I don’t see why I get punished, when the other boys are clearly the distraction. Overall I am a good student. So it will probably not affect my grades.

My favorite subject is Latin and literature. I love books and translating old languages. It is like solving a code or a riddle. I don’t like maths, since it is all just numbers and no words.

1907

I had another outburst in class after Simon tried to touch me. He kept tapping my arm and I don’t like that. The teacher called a nurse, but I was too overwhelmed to respond to any of her questions to my health. I wanted to go home and I told her that again and again, but she didn’t understand. They called a priest. He said something in Latin. I think, it must have been biblical words. I tried to focus on translating them, but there was so much panic around me that I barely focused on anything. But I managed to calm myself after what felt like hours due to exhaustion.

My parents had a talk with the priest. He says that I am possessed by a demon. So now he straps me to a table and mumbled something in Latin again and again once a month or whatever I have an outburst. The robes around my wrist hurt. I am afraid. It is scary to know that there is something inside of me.

1908

I hate being possessed. Although I start to doubt that I have been in the first place. I did some research in the library and the real demonology books aren’t describing my symptoms. Even Cordelia, who usually always tells spooky stories, agrees with me. She said, if I was possessed she would have been the first one to know. She is a mystery to me.

1909

Today I saw a nice looking man across the street. I told my nanny that he looks like a basket full of oranges. My father uses that term a lot when he talks about young women, so I thought it is just a term to use if you think someone looks nice. She gasped and hit me lightly with the newspaper. It didn’t hurt but I didn’t understand what I was doing wrong. She told me that a man cannot say that to another man. I guess the saying is reserved for women then.

1910

I started to mask my uncomfortable feelings in public. It is difficult, but it helps. My parents and the priest both think that I am healed.

1911

I got called a Mary Ann for the first time. I asked my nanny and she started to mumble to herself how she must have failed. I told her that she did a really great job, since I would consider myself very well behaved and educated. She ignored me and told me to not tell my parents. How should I tell them if they are never there in the first place?

I did some research again, which mainly was asking Simon. I know, getting down on his level is a hard sacrifice. He told me that a Mary Ann is a boy who behaves like a girl and isn’t manly enough so they love other men. I thought about that for a long time. What is it about me that makes me a Mary Ann?

The writing in the book started to get better and appeared way more elegant. You could find little drawings here and there. Edwin was quite a good and realistic artist. Drawings of flowers, buildings, his nanny, his mother or Sherlock Holmes.

1912

Mother is constantly coughing loudly. It is irritating. Not even cocaine will help. They don’t let me in her room. They fear I would catch it too. Not that I was ever close to her before.

Mother is in a special hospital now. She took the train far away in a hospital in the mountains. No one ever returns from there. I know it. Everyone does. I will not see her again.

Mother died of tuberculosis. I miss her, I guess. I don’t know what I miss. It is a change. I hate changes.

1913

Father is sending me to a boarding school for boys. He says it’s for my education. I know, he just wants to get ride of me.

I hate the new school. Simon is here and people are still calling me a Mary Ann. Simon started to join them. I guess he sees it as a new opportunity to mock me.

I take fencing lessons now. It is nice, since it is not required any sort of touch with other boys. Nothing that I can be blamed for.

1914

I found a hideout in the school attic. It is a great place to read in peace.

The world has started a war. It worries me. They tell us that we are save in the school. But in the end all you can do is pray.

I came back home on Christmas. My nanny was gone. Father said they would be no need for her any longer, since I am in school now anyway. He looked like he knew something, but wasn’t going to tell me.

1915

The next page had some blood drops on its pages.

I want to go home. I want to be back in my room with my detective books. I want to be healed from this darkness inside of me. My nose is bleeding from another attack by the other boys. They started to get more violent now. Simon isn’t joining them, but he watches.

I came home on Christmas, but it wasn’t my home anymore. Just a house. My father didn’t speak a word. I asked him, if it was about the war and he looked up towards me. I could feel his cold gaze from across the table. He took out a letter and slammed it on the table. It was from my headteacher. I was confused. I am class best and the best behaved student in class? The only reason why I get to stand in the naughty corner is if I got caught reading in my comics or books. In my defense I am usually already finished with the exercises if I read in class. What could possibly be a problem with me? The letter was about the other boys calling me Mary Ann. And that they didn’t wanted a boy like that in their school. That I should stop whatever was wrong with me. My father told me in his absent voice, that he was not having a son like that either. He had exchanged letters with the headmaster for quite some time now and I didn’t seem to get better. I asked him that I had no idea. He interrupted me as always. Told me that the only way to make me a man would be to send me to war. I started to cry and he continued holding a speech about heroism and that his generation had understood this so much better than mine. I am too young for war, he knows that too. He told me that the only thing rescuing my life is my good grades. He sees potential in me as a lawyer. He has talked to the Surnames-von-Hovercrafts they agreed that I should marry their daughter as soon as possible. I mean I knew that I would be married to Cordelia one day, but not already when I turn 16. That’s only some months away.

As the train brought me back to the boarding school and as I saw my father standing in the doorway of the house with his usual expressionless face, I knew that this was the last time I would see him and that he wished to rather have no son than me. I just knew it.

1916

Simon stole my hat. I wouldn’t mention this minor form of his bullying, if it hadn’t been a special hat. My mother and I bought it, when her disease hadn’t been noticeable. It was too large back then, but it suits me now. Or rather suited. I don’t think I will see it again as Simon comes up with the best ways to either destroy or hide it. I cried about it. Childhood is over, but honestly I don’t think it ever started in the first place at least not for me.

The numbness is spreading inside my body. I think about the military and the forced marriage daily. I am too young for this. I cannot even properly cope in a classroom. How am I supposed to cope in the war? My hands are to soft. My brain is too precious. Please, spear me. They won’t. It is just a question of time.

I went to the lake today. It is spring and still fairly cold, but I went inside non the less. It was cold. Ice cold. I went under water and yelled out some poetic nonsense. I thought about staying under water. Turning into Ophelia. But I reminded myself, that this is something a coward would do. A Mary Ann. I would proof everyone’s suspicions as correct. Scared to live. Scared to die. I got out of the water. My gaze landed on my clothes and the letter. My father had written me that the marriage would be held in some days, since I am 16 now. I ripped the paper in half and tossed it into the ocean. Letting the water destroy the writing on the paper. Of course this would make nothing undone. I would still need to marry. I would still need to go into the military. I would still need to die. I am frightened. The other boys seem unbothered. They laugh and play like the world isn’t ending around us. Well, their world is probably not ending anyways. They will live. Their parents are rich after all. They have the privilege. I would have had this privilege as well, but they took it from me by putting this name on me. I took it from myself with my impure thoughts.

Cordelia sent me a telegram that just read that I would need to be careful as death was approaching me in the worst way. I hate her for that. As if I wouldn’t know that. As if I wouldn’t know that I needed to go into the army soon. Not a single word about our forced wedding. I thought we had always agreed to both be against it. But then again she isn’t even trying to love me. Not that I would try. Not anymore. I tried when I was younger, because I was told to. But Cordelia has just no idea how to react appropriately to a gentleman. Her behavior makes it hard to believe that she is from such a high rank.

I saw Simon with a weird book today. He told me it is from his brother and that it is about demons. I told him that this was total nonsense and that he should get a grip on reality. He didn’t spoke to me again after that. Weird for someone who is as annoying as him. I am going to put my notebook in the pocket of my sleeping clothes tonight just to make sure Simon cannot steal it. I have a bad feeling in my stomach. My heart is aching for absolutely no reasons. I am afraid as I try to sleep tonight and the worst thing is that it is irrational. I am going to die alone, this is all my head produces right now.

?

Now every page was covered with blood at the side of the pages and sometimes even on the writing itself. There were no drawings to be found anymore. Just drawings for the escape plan and hierarchy of hell.

I don’t know if my dates are correct. I don’t know how time works in here. I don’t even know how long I am able to write without this thing waking up. This thing with the many doll heads. This spider like creature that kills me every time I move or make a sound. I sometimes wonder what happened to the other boys.

I try to change my perspective. It is hard when you are in so much pain. My brain learned to be sharper now. I can think and act quicker. I need to see this as one of my old detective games or as the times that I had to run away from my bullies. Everything is achievable with logic. Although I would say after being in hell for such a long time that might be a delusional optimism.

1988

I think I made it out fairly well. I am still uncontrollably shaky when I hear any noises. I fear that this demon might comeback to get me. I am back in the old school attic where they strapped me down on the table and sacrificed me. I learned a lot from hell and from the books in the attic. Like the basic ghost rules or that my death and the death of my bullies were labeled an act of god. I compared hell to the war a lot. After all I would say that hell was definitely the worse death. Much longer torture than war would have been. In the war you die just one death after all. But maybe a Mary Ann like me would have ended up there anyway.

I finally was brave enough to get out of the attic. I figured out that the year is 1988 from a newspaper that one of the teachers was reading. 72 years of torture. I wonder how often I was torn apart in this time. But I shouldn’t think about that. That reminds me of the pain and of the times when I tried to count my own corpses. The school hasn’t changed a lot. The teachers are less violent, but still rather strict. They have more lower class people here now. I can see it by the ways they behave and by the clothes they wear. That is especially confusing for me. So rude, so explicit, so freely. It is not a boarding school anymore. Luckily that gives me the freedom to have my peace after dark.

I started to watch a specific boy. I am not a stalker. At least I wouldn’t use this therm for a ghost. He is just interesting for my scientific research about this time. The boy has a darker skin. Some children in this school have this skin and get picked on, but somehow he isn’t the one who gets pick on. He wears very interesting clothes. Especially the golden earring. Something I would just see a woman wear, but it fits him so much better than it could ever fit a woman. His clothing is mostly black, though I would say that the red shirt he once worn fits him best. His lips have always a smile on them and he cracks loud jokes. But I see the sadness in his eyes. I recognize my own sadness in his eyes. His name is Charles Rowland. I heard the teacher yell it at him. A little trouble maker in class. He seems to never be able to focus. Maybe he is also possessed like I was when I was a young boy. But after experiencing hell, I doubt that the priest back then had any idea what a demon was really like.

The following page is filled with a very realistic drawing of Charles, who is smiling so iconically and his eyes seem to be filled with emptiness and some smaller doodles of Charles playing Cricket or talking to others.

Charles Rowland. His name repeats itself in my brain. I am not obsessive. He is just the best way of distraction I can find in this school. Distraction from the fear of hell. The fear of death coming back for me. Analysis and observation keep me away from those horrible thoughts. I have less panicle outbursts since I started my observation of this boy. Although when I am alone at night in the school attic I often start to cry in silence and my breathing races again.

Charlie. That is what his friends call him. It doesn’t suit him. Charles is his name. Not Charlie. I don’t like his friends. They are rude. They remind me of the boys in my old life. I wonder why I like Charles then. Maybe because he points out obvious misbehavior of the group even if they mock him.

The most interesting time is when Charles thinks that he is alone. That is mostly in the dressing room, when he gets ready for Cricket. As a short notion he is a fabulous cricket player, but he always waits till the other boys have changed and are out of the room. He pretends to struggle with his shoes or shorts. Even if that sometimes means that it is getting really dark outside. His smiles fades completely then. I saw the scars on his body. I feel bad for even looking at him in that state. Seeing a boy my age without a shirt is clearly inappropriate and it triggers the Mary Ann inside of me, but sometimes my detective senses is taking over too much. Especially after I saw all the scars and bruises. You don’t need to be that clever to understand that his family probably his father beats him. Although beating may be a too mild verb for those scars. I appreciate the absence of my father when I see him. My father and teachers used to beat me as well. With a ruler or the flat hand though not as much as my classmates. And after being through hell, that all seems like nothing in comparison. But even in my time no father would have mistreated their sons like that. I speak from a higher class, maybe it had been different in the lower class, but they were happy if their sons made it through childhood without a disease or scars so they could work properly. Although maybe they did this with the child workers. Is Charles secretly a child worker? Is there still child labour? Why would someone bruise their son like that if their son could provide a great income for the family? Or how many things was Charles doing something seriously wrong?

1989

His friends talked about me last night. They had cricket practice until the sun had settled and on the way back home I heard them talking about a school ghost. The janitor must have heard my weeping last night. My hysteria yesterday was indeed a lot. Too much to handle for myself. I think I was shaking till dawn. This vivid fear must have crossed over into the living world. They told Charles, that this had scared the janitor and he quitted. Then they told him of Mary Ann who was sacrificed 1916 and killed all the boys that night. Charles questioned this logically, since it was an all boys school, so there probably was never a girl. I certainly appreciate his thinking, but this just triggered a lot in me. Being called a Mary Ann even after all this years. Being remembered only as a Mary Ann. Being blamed as the murderer. Those boys clearly had no idea of what the term Mary Ann actually meant, but it just triggered me so badly that I started to panic again. My panic must have bursted through the worlds again, because the boys suddenly turned white and ran home. Charles stayed a little longer. Looking in my direction. I know he couldn’t see me, but maybe he could sense my panic more than the other boys could. Again we are much a like if you observe closely. After this strange second of him just starting into nothing and me starting back, he ran away as well.

I need to leave this place. But I am too scared. Too scared of the outside world. Too scared of the changes.

I wanted to leave today, be brave enough. But I heard Charles ‘friends’ talking bad about him behind his back. How weird he behaved. They had no idea about his scars. Then again if I would be his friend, which is rather unlikely, I wouldn’t confront him. I know how horrible I panic if someone says the word Mary Ann, I imagine that it is a similar situation for him with his scars. I stayed. I don’t know why. Again irrational fears.

I wish I would have left. I saw Charles defending a boy who got bullied by his so called friends. I felt tears in my eyes, because this was the kind of protection I had wished for when I was alive. I definitely feel too many emotions at the moment or maybe it just feels like more emotions because I was mostly numb in hell. The younger boy could escape with only a few bruises, but his friends still were in this blood lust. In this moment of still wanting the fun even though there was nothing funny about the action in the first place. I have seen those faces before. The faces of murders who only realize their actions when it is too late. They stoned him in the cold water. The water of the lake in which I once thought about killing myself a long time ago. I wanted to help. I wanted to stop them, but I had no idea what I could do. I am too new in this ghostly body. I tried desperately, but I ended up only pausing them by holding them back for a short time. It gave Charles time to ran away to the school building. He hid in the attic. I wanted to help him. The least I could do was by giving him a light. He was in a state where a floating light probably was his least problem. It turned out that he could see me and that was the moment I knew it was too late for him anyway. It was a strange sensation to properly speak again. I had never spoken in hell and in my ghost form I had only weeped. Hearing my own voice was odd. I was shortly surprised that I still knew how to use my voice. Reading to him from one of my old comics in the attic calmed him and gave me the opportunity to adapt a bit to talking for a longer period of time. He stayed with me, which honestly stresses me out a lot. I am not made to be a friend. I have been isolated for too long to be a good friend. I have been in hell for so long that I am probably a horrible person myself. I haven’t talked in so long. I am just adapting to just have conversations, how should I teach him to be a ghost, if I haven’t figured it out myself? Even if that all would not be the case and even if we would not be from different times, still I never have been good with other people. I never had friends. The only person a bit close to me was Cordelia and she was always more a sister for me. And still he chooses a stranger his own afterlife. From my observations I would blame his intentional behavior. He sees something and does something without thinking long. Although this decision might be too big for only this explanation.

I really can’t understand why Charles is choosing me over his afterlife. I just read to him once and gave him a lantern. He barely knows me and now he follows me everywhere. I showed him some ghost tricks and somehow I can really impress him by everything I say or do. But he made me smile for the first time in my life. So I am impressed by him as well. Whenever I read in this book, I just tell him that I like to keep record of things. That I would plan were we can go next as we no longer can stay in the school and waking around without plan is never good for too long. It is partly a lie I really am making a plan. But I do this in my head rather than writing it down, but it is an excuse for not letting him see my private writing. I tell him that it is rather boring planning and he believes me. I feel bad for lying to him, but if he would know about my past he surely would leave me and I would be all alone again.

We mirror traveled together to London. Charles felt a bit sick after it. He seems to still need to adapt to his ghost body. I was a bit overwhelmed with his sudden mood shift. I have been too selfish all my life and in my death so much that I don’t know how to help. He didn’t notice or he just didn’t say anything. But we had to mirror travel, it was too dangerous in the school after Charles died. Besides Charles is a talented and athletic boy, he will get the grip of it. In addition death could have caught me in the attic. I didn’t tell him why I am on the run. Not yet. I fear that once I tell him that I was in hell, he will think I am evil. Maybe that is true. Maybe I am just doomed. I feel like it was my fault that he died. I watched him so long with this incorrect feelings of mine. Maybe this cursed him like in a Greek tragedy. For now I just want to make sure that Charles is not alone. I had been alone for too long to know how dreadful it can get and he is much more social than I am.

We visited his family in London. A real rural area. His mother was crying over the loss of her son. His father just seemed to see it as a natural thing to happen to those who aren’t careful enough. I made a mental note to haunt this man every year to Charles’ death day without telling Charles. The school, once again, swept the problem under the carpet and made it appear like an accident. How can someone possibly stone himself while being in the water and then run in an attic? No clever detective would see that as the solution. I said that out loud and it turned out that Charles and I both share a passion for detective stories. That was something to make him smile. But he started to cry again as he saw how desperate his mother and sister were. He hugged me, which was a lot. I never have been hugged before and at first it felt like this demon from hell was gripping around me again. I froze in place and pushed him away in a reflex. Charles stopped. I didn’t tell him about the hell part, but I told him that I am not used to hugs and touches in general. He took it in surprisingly well, but for his own sake I added that I might could get used to it. I hope that I am able to get used to it. Charles sees it as something that he can teach me.

It was just a matter of time till my hell trauma wouldn’t be able to keep hidden anymore. We were in an abandoned apartment, since we both are not staying out the whole night. We don’t have to sleep but it is just too awkward. He usually talks through the whole night and I like his voice even with his weird way of talking. He likes me reading to him. He even carries all my books for me. But as we explored the abandoned house, I discovered an old doll. I overreacted I know. But there was just so much panic inside of me all of the sudden. My fight or flight mood was activated again. I don’t know what Charles did. I don’t know how he managed to stop me from repeating the word ‘Please spare me. I don’t belong in hell.’ I vaguely remember his hands securely holding my head and his shining dark eyes and his calm voice, but I don’t remember his words. He was confused by my sudden changed behavior, but he tried to not show that whole calming me. Once he had calmed me, I obviously had to tell him the truth. I gave him the opportunity to leave me again, but he stayed and he understood, said that this is probably the worst thing someone could have been through. We didn’t speak the rest of the night, but we continued the next day as if nothing had happened.

It is harder to continue my writing as Charles could find out and I don’t want him to know about this. He is so lively. He is jumping and sprinting around, while telling me things and just appears from behind. I cannot risk that. We have a detective agency now. We don’t want that others have their deaths so badly twisted as ours. Another reason was that he had introduced me to a game called Clue, which is basically a detective game, and then we both came up with the idea of starting our own detective agency. He is the brawn and I am the brain. It fits perfectly. We even managed to get a abandoned flat in London. I probably have no time to continue this memoirs, but I will make sure to use my notebook as a case lock book from now own.

I will never tell him about the real meaning of the word Mary Ann. I will never tell him that I had been in the school for a whole year and not just shortly before his death. I will never tell him that I have watched and observed him. I appreciate him now too much. I don’t ever want to lose him.

After that only a whole lot of cases and notes and questions on them followed.

[deluxewhump]

Carlo’s Letters: Absalom (unsent)

CW: self harm, disordered and restrictive eating

January 2020

I know you think anything that draws blood is girlish and pitiful.

So sometimes I play a game with a boxcutter that makes me feel less responsible for when the blade nicks me. Still, afterward, I see my palms and arms shallowly slit up as if with cat scratches and I think, this is pathetic. Self pity, you called it. The worst thing in the world.

That’s the worst thing in the world, I quote under my breath as I toss the metal handle up so it spins in the air and I catch it on the way down. When I catch it blade first, the pain of it jolts through me like a small electric shock. It fades quickly but it releases pressure, like a dental instrument cutting into an abscessed gum. When the blade doesn’t nip me, I have to say it again, your condemnation of my self-pity. That’s the worst thing in the world.

I do this on my new master’s back patio, a half circle of stone tiles with wicker furniture and Adirondack chairs that are covered in frost half the day since the sun doesn’t hit this spot in winter. We’re up in the hills and there is truly no one out here, just the far away line of trees like druids with beards of virginal snow, the calls of chickadees and the chatter of squirrels. I see deer all the time in the yard. I watched the babies get bigger and lose their white spots. I know when I can’t stand the cold anymore because my fingers will get stiff and whitish-purple and I’ll just drop the stupid boxcutter altogether. Then it’s time to go inside and the self-pity ritual ends.

To avoid the shame of the boxcutter, I can also choose not to eat during the day. I eat with Max at night usually, and I don’t want him to notice, so I keep doing that. But I don’t have to eat all day. It’s better this way, because I can keep doing it for longer. If I stopped altogether the ruse would be up pretty quickly. But one meal a day? That’s perfect. The first week or so I feel physical hunger, but that fades. I get a sense of sharpness that I like. It feels like I’ve taken a stimulant.

I get dizzy when I stand up fast, but I don’t black out. I still eat once a day, so it’s not that bad. And it makes eating way more pleasurable. Anything at all tastes incredible. My mouth waters from the smell alone. I notice textures as if I’ve never eaten them before. I swear I can feel my blood sugar rising, and when it plateaus later. I always leave some on my plate so Max doesn’t think I’m hungry, even if I want to finish it. Im not sure what he’d say, but I hate his disappointment. More than I hated yours. Sometimes I flirted with your disappointment just to get your eyes on me, to get you to look at me at all. His feels different.

I’m hungry when I go to bed at night even just a few hours later, but it doesn’t keep me awake. I’m in control of it. It keeps me company. Like a dog at my feet.

I’ll stop if I get too skinny again. I know you don’t think I will but I will. I don’t know if I ever fully realized this until the day I saw you on tv with your lawyers, coming out of a Baltimore courthouse as if it were a O&H shareholder meeting, but you’re not omniscient. We don’t have telepathy. You don’t know everything. It’s not about that anyway, it’s about feeling the way I need to feel so I don’t lose my mind. And I can’t cut my hands to ribbons, so I do this for a few months instead.

It thrills me that you can’t take my face in your hands and use your quietest, calmest voice to bully me, or force me, or even sweet-talk me into submission. Sometimes I think of the fact that you can’t even leave your cell without permission and I laugh out loud. You and your cabal of colleagues, workers, hired help, house-call doctors. It was all so tight under your rotten fucking thumb.

(Unsigned)

[its-tea-time-darling]

i love teresa so much she's so special to me <3

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[metalcorebarbie]

earlier this month i was having one of those days when i just felt. extremely self conscious. i hadn’t really seen anyone in days or had conversations with anyone that weren’t through screens so i felt kind of bad because of that. i went out to get groceries and you know that feeling after not really interacting with anyone for days? when you kind of don’t feel like a real person anymore and it feels like everyone who looks at you can tell that you actually aren’t a real person but some kind of wretched and disgusting gollum like creature that shouldn’t actually be let out in public. and every time someone looked at me it felt like they were STARING at me and i started to wonder if i looked weird like WHY is everyone staring at me. and then when i went back to my car there was this woman in the parking lot, maybe in her 50s, and it felt like she was staring too, you know? and then suddenly, she smiles at me and says ”your dress is so beautiful” and i was like. oh. right. normal human interaction. it feels good. wow. suddenly i was grounded again. and even this one small interaction reminded me that yeah most people ARE actually friendly, or even if they aren’t necessarily friendly they also don’t pay as much attention to you as you fear they are. and even if just your existence manages to annoy someone, whatever. there’s always at least one person who loved your yellow summer dress.

[kissingwookiees]

'the problem with a lot of game writing today is that characters don't talk like real people' 100% agree with this sentiment but also thats most writing in general right now

[kingdomoftyto]

The funniest thing about Billford as a ship to me is that there is a competing ship that is objectively better by almost every metric, but most of us are insane and gravitate to the fucked up mess of red flags that is Bill because the story there is simply more narratively interesting.

Make no mistake; I ship Billford hard and will continue devouring fic of it for a while yet, but I also feel it's worth acknowledging that I fully endorse Ford's Perfect True Ending romance being with Fidds.

[faunandfloraas]

Being an introvert that everyone thinks is an extrovert is sure... something

[dira333]

The Road Not Taken - part 20 (The End)

Shibi x  female reader with a name - arranged marriage

Summary: Airi Nara seems a hopeless case, until her grandmother sets her up for an arranged marriage. But was marrying Shibi Aburame the right choice after all?

Masterlist ; Character sheet (now with Hito)

THIS IS THE FINAL CHAPTER! WE MADE IT!

- 5 years after the Uchiha Massacre -

Natsu hasn’t spotted him yet, too distracted by a flock of birds.

“Oi, Shino!” Naruto points out, as usual too loud for the situation he’s in. “Someone’s waiting for you.”

Most of the kids turn to look at Naruto now instead of Shino, who’s slipping out of the crowd almost unnoticed. His shoulders are tense as he walks over, the tension not letting off even as Natsu does her best at climbing up his leg.

“I missed you!” She tells him. “It was boring at home.”

“Did you do your training?” Shino asks and she pouts.

“Course! I’m so strong I can totally kick your butt.”

“Ah,” you drag a hand through her hair which usually makes her let go of whatever she’s clinging to. 

“What?” She asks, turning back. “I didn’t say ass.”

Shino grins into his collar, you can tell. You sigh.

“What did you do today?” You ask over Natsu’s chatter as you make your way home.

Shino’s classes run later than Natsu’s and although picking him up is a rather untimely break, you don’t mind doing it once or twice a week. Natsu’s easily distracted as it is, and that little break is often what she needs to focus for two more hours

“They told us what teams we’ll be getting into,” Shino tells you quietly, his hand slipping into yours as you make your way through a quiet alley, a gesture reminding him of how little he used to be.

“Really?” Natsu squeaks to your feet. “Who’s going to be your Sensei?”

“Kurenai.”

You furrow your brows. Kurenai’s known for her use of Genjutsu. Not the first choice for an Aburame.

Shino senses your hesitation. “I’ll talk to Father about it,” he replies. 

“Who else is going to be in your team?”

“Kiba Inuzuka.” He pauses. “And Hinata Hyuuga.”

Ah. You can tell by the arch of his shoulders where the problem lies.

Natsu, not the least bit attentive, doesn’t. She rambles on, jealous that he’s going to get to be in a real Genin Team now while she’s just started attending Academy, that he’s going to be spending time with an Inuzuka - they have dogs! - while she trains with Kaede of all people.

But you know your son. Sometimes better than his father, it seems.

-

“What’s the problem with it?” Shibi asks after Dinner in the privacy of his office, the kids doing their homework on the other side - or rather Shino’s helping Natsu do hers.

“It’s Hinata. Hinata Hyuuga. He has a crush on her.”

Shibi drops his pen. “What?”

“Yeah, didn’t you notice?” You lean into him until he moves his legs a little apart, lets you take a seat on his lap. Over six years of marriage have not made you long less for his touch but even you’ve noticed that you’ve been exceptionally cuddly these past weeks.

“No,” he admits, pulling you a little closer. “Did he tell you?”

“Well, yeah.” You close your eyes for a second, reveling in the closeness. “I figured it out and talked to him about it. She’s really sweet, but apparently she’s head over heels for Naruto.”

“Poor Shino,” Shibi sighs. “I know that feeling.”

“Excuse me?” You lean back again to eye him. “When did you experience that kind of thing?”

“Well,” he pulls a face. “I did have a life before Zoka. There was this girl in my class… Looking back I can only be glad she never knew I liked her, but she was really into…” He stops, furrowing his brows. “I forgot his name.”

You laugh. “Well, let’s hope Shino will experience something similar. Do you…” You hesitate. “Do you plan on arranging a marriage for him as well?”

Shibi’s head knocks heavily into yours. “I was thinking about it. Chiasa brought it up. It’s too early for that yet, but I might talk to him about it, just so he knows.”

“He might not take the offer.”

“Yes,” Shibi nods. “He might not. But it’s his decision. Why? I won’t force him into something he has no desire for.”

You sigh. Your eyes wander over his desk, not really looking for anything but a distraction until they catch onto the picture pinned to the wall. Natsu, barely six months old, had wanted out of your hold so bad her arms and legs are blurry from the movement, but it’s not her your eyes latch onto. Behind her, body covered from head to toe, is Torune, smiling at the camera.

You still wonder about him daily, but the pain has lessened over time.

Shibi, sensing the shift, leans in to kiss your temple.

“How about we take a nice bath after the kids have gone to bed?” He asks. “Celebrate the fact that you put on some weight again.”

You laugh despite yourself. “That’s not usually a thing to celebrate.”

“It is to me.”

And you know what he’s thinking about, the time of your life you barely remember, when all you did was sleep and cry. 

You suppose he’s right. Sometimes these things are worth celebrating.

- - -

It’s a rare treat to go shopping on your own and not just for necessities.

Shibi’s on a mission that should only last one day, Natsu’s training with Chiasa right after school and Shino’s training with his new Genin Team, leaving the house quiet except for the purring of Okita 

Sure there’s things to do, like there always are. The laundry needs to be folded, the garden needs tending, but nothing is urgent and you’re craving a little window shop.

They say to never go shopping on an hungry stomach, but the same might be true for the opposite. 

You find sweets for you and Natsu, a little trinket Toshiko will cherish, and the most practical gift you could possibly get Shibi - a multi pack of new boxer briefs - until you make your way through yet another store, remembering that you’ll need new toothbrushes soon.

You take a turn to the left and stare at a display of pregnancy tests, all but snorting at the price.

With a little bit of Chakra you can do that for free and since the aisle is empty, you do just so, proving to yourself that you might be a little rusty at the edges, but not that much.

The result has you freeze in surprise, hands still splayed out over your abdomen.

You try again. The result doesn’t change.

-

And it’s not like you changed your mind about having more children after Torune was taken away, but it had not been on the forefront of your mind anymore.

Grief had been. And then getting better.

The tea Chiasa had gotten you had moved to the far end of the cupboard, replaced by other, more needed things. A tea to soothe Natsu’s upset stomach or the fever she ran when teething. 

To find out you’re pregnant again, at a time like this, in a place like this… You can’t help but laugh.

- 

Natsu looks at you weird when she returns from her grandmother.

“Why are you smiling like that?” She asks, stomping adorably through the room to join you in the kitchen. 

“I’m happy. Are you not?”

She harrumphs before taking a seat at the table, launching into a detailed explanation of today’s training, the bugs and birds she had seen and all the reasons why she needed to get a puppy.

Shino, much like his sister, halts at the door to eye you.

“You seem very happy,” he points out, sliding out of his shoes.

“I said that too,” Natsu exclaims, eager to show off.

“I am,” you explain simply, inviting him to the table. “Can you help me with the beans?”

“Did you get to pet Akamaru today?” Natsu asks before Shino’s even sat, disappointed when his answer is no.

You eat Dinner without Shibi, sadly a not so rare occurrence.

Natsu settles on the living room floor after Dinner to play with a lazy Okita while Shino curiously sidles closer on the Couch.

“Did something happen?” He whispers, mindful of his sisters nosiness.

“Yes,” you agree. “But I will have to tell your father first.”

Shino watches you for a second, his sunglasses giving nothing away. Then, just barely visible, his mouth quirks upward before he leans in to whisper even quieter into your ear.

“I hope this time I will get a quieter sibling.”

You snort, waving it off as a bad joke when Natsu perks up immediately.

“I know a joke!” She exclaims at that, sitting upright. “Where do the cows go to have fun?”

“Where, Natsu?”

“To the Moovies! Get it? Because they Moo!”

You laugh along with her, praising her for it. 

She goes back to Okita after a while but Shino sticks close until he falls asleep with his head on your shoulder.

He’s grown so much, but he’s still your little boy after all.

- - -

Shibi takes one step into your bedroom before he halts.

“What happened?” He asks, his coat half open.

You laugh. “Why does everyone ask me that today? Is it hat obvious?”

“You’re glowing,” he comments before flinching back. “No!” He gasps. “Can it-”

“Yes,” your smile turns shy now, a hand pressed to your belly. “I went to the hospital to triple check. I’m two months along already.”

The sound Shibi makes sounds both like a sob and a sigh and he rushes over to cradle the barely there bump in his hands.

“So that’s the weight you put on,” he points out quietly, hands caressing the skin above the new life growing.

You rake a hand through his hair, overcome with too many emotions to talk.

He understands nonetheless.

“Do you want to call him Torune, if it’s a boy?” His voice is quiet, unobtrusive.

“No,” you shake your head, your voice tight. “No, I don’t… I don’t want to replace him. Torune will always be my son. If it’s a boy, he will be his own little person.”

Shibi nods, pressing a kiss to your stomach.

“Welcome,” he whispers. “We’re very eager to meet you.”

“Shino already knows,” you tell him once he’s settled in behind you, one hand cradling your belly.

Shino huffs out a laugh. “He’s too perceptive.”

“Do you want to tell Natsu?”

He laughs louder. “No, I know my limitations. That’s all yours.”

-.- Shibi -.-

Hito Aburame steps just as quietly into the world as he’d slipped into your life.

One day you’re still pregnant, your belly heavy, the next he’s there with you, watching the little carved antlers move above his bed.

You gave birth at night, a quiet, quick affair, Shibi’s hand tight in yours as Chiasa watched.

Hito has his fathers Kikaichu, your eyes and Shino’s quietness, charming his way into everyone’s heart, even that of stubborn Natsu who had been adamant not to like him.

“He’s very cute,” she admits just two days later, carrying him from one room to the next. Every thought of a puppy is forgotten when he blows bubbles at her, holds onto her pinky with his tiny fists.

-

Hito’s presence is sorely needed.

He’d been worried sick these past months.

The third Hokage has been killed, the attack almost taking Shino as well.

You’d watched him for days until the poison left his system, one hand on his, the other on your growing belly.

It had been a new fear, though not unfounded. He’d almost lost you over Torune, he doesn’t want to think what losing Shino would do to you.

The life of a Shinobi is hard, every mission might be your last. 

But Shibi can’t help but think that the life of a parent is harder, knowing that no matter how hard you train your children they might not make it home one day.

And what world, he can’t help but wonder, what village, expects their children to fight the battles of grown ups?

- - -

The years pass.

They celebrate Shino making Chunin by visiting the bath house, a rather ironic celebration giving the fact that both Shino and him have to stay out of the water lest they overheat.

Hito doesn’t seem to mind the heat but you don’t dare risk it at his young age while Natsu dives into the water from every angle possible.

“Torune would be proud of you,” you tell Shino after Dinner, your voice thick with emotion. 

Shino’s hand curls around yours and his, joining them together.

His son rarely smiles but tonight, he seems content.

-

Natsu’s Genin team consists of her, a quiet, massive Taijutsu User named Kenta Akimichi and the stubborn Genjutsu prodigy Umeda Daisuke, a clanless boy Natsu never stops complaining about.

“She’s got a crush on him,” you comment one rainy afternoon after Natsu’s stormed out to train, her tirade over Daisuke still ringing in their ears. “She just doesn’t know it yet.”

“Poor Daisuke,” Shino comments from where he’s packing his bag for a mission. “He doesn’t know what’s going to hit him until it’s too late.”

You laugh, both at Shino’s comment and Shibi’s awkwardness, his unwillingness to think about his little girl growing up.

“How about you?” You ask, pinching Shino’s cheek, lifting Hito up so he can do the same, the toddler clinging to you every waking hour. “Any girl worth crushing on?”

Red dusts Shino’s cheeks and Shibi straightens, trying not to pry.

“I’m fine as it is,” Shino points out. “I want to make… I want to make you guys proud.”

“I am proud,” you tell him, conviction heavy in your voice. “So, so proud.”

“Still,” Shino shakes his head. “I’m only eighteen. Who knows what’s going to happen in the next year or so? Naruto just came back and you know how he makes everything…”

“Interesting?” You offer at the same time Shibi mutters a quiet “Complicated?”

Shino shrugs.

“If you want me to look for someone-,” Shibi offers but Shino waves him off. “No, no, I’m fine.”

Shibi catches your eye. He knows that look and sighs. A little looking around won’t hurt.

- - - After the Shinobi war - - -

Shibi finds you at the hospital, not surprised to see you up and working even at midnight, a sleeping Hito tied to your back. He’s too old to be carried around like that, but the times are rough and he knows you wouldn’t leave him to sleep in some room when there might be a new attack any minute.

You pull him in for a hug the second you see him, your clothes just as drenched in blood and dirt as his.

“You’re alive,” you cry into his chest and he nods, eyes closed, relieved to be just for one second.

“Who did we lose?” You ask moments later, voice shaky as you brace yourself.

“Muta,” he watches you crumble at the name, holds you tight as you cry into his chest. All the other names will follow, but this one hurts the most. Toshiko’s your closest friend and Muta nothing less than your nephew, just another big brother of Natsu.

Shibi hasn’t heard of Shino yet, just knows that he’s alive.

-

Konoha does what it does best.

They rebuild itself from the dirt and the ashes, from the tears and the blood.

Natsu is quieter now, a constant companion to a grieving Kaede, sitting hours on end with him and little Hito as she ponders the injustice of the world.

Muta had been a person she knew, one she loved dearly. It’s the first death, the first loss she can really grasp.

Torune’s death hits you much harder, though not as hard as him saying goodbye all those years ago.

So much has happened in so little time that it seems almost comical that their house is still standing, their garden’s almost untouched from all those fights.

-

“Let’s come together,” you ask one Sunday morning, the first you get to spend at home after doing double shifts at the hospital all week. “Under the pear tree.”

The Blanket you spread out on the ground is one he knows well, the one you gifted Torune all those years ago, the one your parents made for you.

Hito settles quietly in your lap, the others following shortly.

Chiasa, Toshiko, Kenji and Kaede arrive as if pulled in by your shadows, settling in the soft shade.

It’s quiet outside, just the rustling of the wind in the leaves, not even Natsu utters a word as she lets Kaede sit close, shoulders brushing.

A shadow brushes past the edge of the house, blindingly blond hair reflecting the sun.

“Hi,” Naruto stands there awkwardly. “I wanted to- Is it okay if I-”

“Sit,” Shino motions toward a free corner to his right and Naruto waves at someone behind him who turns out to be Iruka. 

The blanket is pretty much full now but you look around as if waiting for someone. Maybe you are.

“When I was dreaming in the Infinite Tsukuyomi,” you say into the quiet of the morning. “When I was dreaming, I saw us like this. Sitting together under this pear tree. My parents were there as well. Jurou and Zoka, Torune and Muta.” Toshiko sniffles loudly and you smile at her, taking her hand to squeeze it.

“And we didn’t have to do much. We just were and we were happy like this. And I think we can be like that, still.” Your eyes find Shibi’s and you smile, sad and happy at the same time.

“After all, no one’s truly dead unless they are forgotten.”

- - -

It’s only hours later, in the quiet of the night, that you shuffle close, your head coming to rest on his chest.

“What are you thinking about?” You ask.

“Everything and nothing,” he admits. “Torune, Muta, Shiruko. Zoka, too. The girl… The girl I found for Shino, if he wants it. Who’s going to be Hito’s Sensei when it’s time. Should he even become a Shinobi?”

“I thought you didn’t like thinking about the road not taken?”

“I don’t,” he sighs. “But my mind won’t let it rest.”

“Would it help you,” you ask then, “If we went down it together?”

He considers it for a second, your hand in his, his hand in yours.

“Always.”

THE END!

I am so proud of this story. This took some twists and turns and I'm sure it did not answer every question, not that it needs to. You won't get answers to every question in your own life either, sadly.

I modeled the events of the Shinobi War to what I know from the Naruto Wiki - so I didn't spend as much time on Torune's and Muta's death as I could have.

What do you think, though?

Will Shino accept an arranged marriage like his father?

What side character deserves a long story like this (and why should it be Nagato? 😉)

Or do you have any other thoughts you want to share? I'd love to hear it.

Thank you for all the support you've shown this fic. Shibi, Shino and the whole Aburame Clan are, after all, side characters. Often forgotten. But our love for them unites us in this corner of the interweb.

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