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bunny-lily · 5 months

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Tether Me - Prologue

Pairing(s): Geto/Gojo/Reader Summary: You ran.

It's what you did in life. It's all you knew how to do. You ran, ran, and kept running and never stopped, because if you stopped, it meant you were trapped, chained, a bird with shredded wings in a gilded cage.

So, how did you end up here, tucked away into a little village in rural Japan, falling into the depths of two black holes with no way to escape?

How could you run from this? From them?

…Would you? CW: No y/n | polyamory | slow burn | slice of life | alt au - no curses | fluff | light angst | eventual smut | forgive me, there's internal monologues | I like using big words... | Gojo & Geto are whipped for you | emotionally constipated reader | (most of the tags have been condensed, you can find the full list on my ao3 here) AN: this is just the prologue chapter, sort of exposition. No bois in this one (technically), but I'm posting chapter 1 at the same time as the prologue. As a heads up, my most comfortable place for posting my longer fics like this is ao3. You can find more of my blurb thoughts on there. I'm not the best at tumblr posting, so forgive me pls ;-;

Ch: Prologue | Ch: 1 | Ch: 2 | Ch: 3 | Ch: 4 | Ch: 5 - 1 | Ch: 5 - 2

WC: 9.4k

You’ve always likened yourself to a kite, but less pretty and enjoyable.

Every time you glanced at a kite in the children’s toy section, or watched as thousands flew in the sky during festivals, your eyes stung and something bitter and uncomfortable twisted in your gut. In a way, you saw yourself in them; fragile little creatures tethered to the earth by no fault of their own. So easy to snap – to break.

They were always trapped, chained down, forever bound to either get reined back in after one had their fill of fun, or to fall like tragic angels to the ground when the winds died, and they would once again be unable to travel free amongst the stars where they belonged. All thanks to the threads wrapped around their very bones, far too strong for something that looked so thin and prone to fraying.

Yet nobody ever did release the chains. Who would willingly free their prized, imprisoned bird?

Of those pretty, unfortunate kites, you lamented with them.

You, too, were pinioned to solid ground. Your wings were clipped, feathers torn from flesh one by one until you were born in a body that could no longer fly. Responsibilities, duties, relationships – they all kept you drowning in a suffocating pile of down-stuffed pillows, filled with plumes that were once yours. They progressively got heavier and heavier, locking your limbs between illusions of comfort and safety, sitting on your chest and flooding your mouth until you choked and gagged and couldn’t breathe.

You were different from kites, sure, beyond the very obvious things. You weren’t a pitifully flimsy, inanimate toy, left forgotten in some closet, awaiting the one day you’d be remembered, taken out, and allowed to taste the breath of deities themselves again. But if you could glide in the wind like they could, oh, nothing would bring you more joy, more solace, even if you were still tied down. All for just a kiss of freedom.

You ached to be detached from everything and everyone. An untethered kite, a fledgling bird learning to fly, a paper lantern that glowed its very joy from within for all to see.

Paper lanterns.

You couldn’t stand paper lanterns, because you yearned so deeply to be one. How wonderful it would be to have a warmth alight inside you as you rose to the heavens, lighter than air.

You envied them.

They made you nauseous with longing.

They made you want to stretch your fingers high and try to catch one within your palm like a cascading star.

They made you want to reach your fist past your throat and rip out your heart barehanded, just to make the accursed thing stop pounding so goddamned hard in your stomach as it sank lower and lower with each additional candle that got to join their family of stars beyond celestia.

Because, for fuck’s sake, you belonged up there, too. Free, flaring, blazing and flickering so spectacularly that philosophers would wax poetic about you for ages to come.

It wasn’t fucking fair for you to be stuck on Mother Nature’s spine like this, burdened by the neutron star in your body that just grew more and more dense, urging you to dive into the ocean and let it snare you into its depths. You didn’t choose to spawn with a spirit disconnected from the flesh that acted as its prison, you didn’t choose to be jailed like this.

So, why?

Maybe that’s one of the reasons you were drawn to kites. You pitied them. You pitied yourself.

You weren’t a kite. You didn’t want to be one, to have your boundless form fettered down. But when you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, that’s all you could ever see staring back at you. A kite with faded, worn out paints that barely clung to the tattered paper, feebly held together by thin strips of bamboo that had been aged and mottled from the inside out by time.

You hated paper lanterns. You hated kites. You hated yourself.

As the years dragged on, from the moment your brain snapped into your body with the sudden realization that you were a conscious, living, breathing person, those ugly feelings festered and spread like a fungus that refused to abate even a trace, just a second so you could catch a breath of fresh air that didn’t reek of mildew.

The seconds spanned on for eons without prejudice, destroying your cells at the molecular level with each passing birthday that trudged reluctantly along.

In the back of your mind, the sensation of being asphyxiated by your own feathers that had been shorn away from you etched itself deeper and deeper into your psyche. You became restless, antsy, the variegated world around you fading rapidly. Colors you once saw as a child, before you could latch the inherent sense of wrongness in your chest to a concept, gradually dulled until all you were left with was a world tinged heavily in gray.

The streets you were raised on grew denser, despite the amount of people living on them never actually changing noticeably. The verdant grass of your backyard turned into a dominating presence everytime you laid your eyes on it, unruly and all-consuming, demanding an undivided attention you did not want to give. The orange beams that hung over black asphalt instilled a sense of panic in you that wasn’t there before.

You used to be fond of walking around your neighborhood in the middle of the night, when you rightfully should have been sleeping. An inverted circadian rhythm suited you well when you were young, unaware that the crushing sensation under your sternum would only get worse.

Now, though, the thought of straying out where there wasn’t enough light to see straight ahead made sweat form on your chest and palms while your teeth clattered from a nonexistent chill.

Everything caved in on you. Not in a rush, not in a cataclysmic flood. No, you didn’t discern you were fighting for air until you were already gasping fruitlessly. Lost, terrified, unsure, you could only bear witness to the collapse of your own mind.

Then, one day, a soft voice whispered in your ear.

Run.

It wasn’t a threat, not some ominous warning of death looming over your shoulder. It was a suggestion, an offering, an olive branch towards that freedom you coveted. It was salvation.

Who were you to ignore the hand of deliverance?

The first time you changed your scenery, moved elsewhere, even if it was only a few streets away from your childhood home, felt incredibly liberating. After so long that you had forgotten how it felt, you got the chance to gulp down air as if you had surfaced from beneath the perdition sea after spending your whole existence beneath it.

Color returned to your world, excitement formed anew, everything felt right. Achromatic wastelands turned into kaleidoscopic meadows, fulgent and lucid. You savored it, reveled in it, frolicked and danced and lived.

…It didn’t last.

Not long. You exhaled, and it all vanished, sand swept away by an uncaring and spiteful hand.

Once you had become used to the environment, when you no longer had to actively remember where your flat was, or how long it took to get to the store, everything was washed out; water dumped on a painting that had yet to form defined shapes.

That crushing sensation had returned, and with it the reminder that, as much as you wished you weren’t, you were a kite. Tethered, perpetually confined, worn bamboo strips and thin paper threatening to rend under the drag.

Thus, you ran again. A new town, a new city, a new skyline. Euphoria nestled cozily under your breast like a second heart, purring contentedly as it curled up on the nest of blankets it created for itself.

New places, new faces, new people. All of it was fascinating to you beyond measure. It interested you to no end to learn about other human beings; their thoughts, their perspectives, their preferences. What they despised with grit teeth and barely restrained anger clenched in trembling fists; what they loved so dearly that they could never drown beneath the same waves that followed your heels, tide rising progressively.

They glowed from within, bright and budding and vibrant. Their eyes flickered with life, glazed so clearly that stars sparkled in the depths of their hues. You were drawn to them, a moth to mesmerizing fire.

You felt free. You rode that high as much as you could, for as long as it would allow.

Until a realization struck you with the force of a bullet train one night. A man hung onto your arm, easy laughter shared between the two of you as you let him take you home. Alcohol tinged his breath, but not enough to give him anything more than a slight buzz. He was a total gentleman through and through, and you listened with eagerness as he spoke about his upcoming work project, his excitement palpable with every word.

His hand linked with yours, fingers intertwined, his warm palm engulfing yours. There was a comfort in that transient window of time, one you held to your heart. It was so unfamiliar, so addictive. And as you stopped before your door, having completely forgotten of your lack of wings, you waited with bated breath for him to slant into you.

A pair of infirm lips, minutely chapped and tasting of wine, pressed against yours, and dread exploded in your gut.

He pulled away from you, lovestruck in the way his eyes shone as he looked into your own, and reality crashed down on you with horrors in three measures, shattering like broken glass in the vortex of your conscious thought.

When you stared at him, watched the way he opened his mouth to speak, you made the connection.

“I really like you,” he had murmured to you that night, nearly shy. Yearning. Hoping.

Paper lantern.

“I want to ask you out properly.”

Tether.

His words sank into your skin like ice, digging deep, burrowing into your marrow.

Kite.

The illusion of pellucid skies of the richest shades cracked, the lush plains you fantasized of often turned to barren heaths, and all those tormenting feelings came back to choke your breath with a vengeance. Sickly fingers wrapped around your throat, sunk into your mouth, dug past your gag reflex, wrapped around your ankles and wrists until you could barely lift your feet just to move forward.

You remembered with great disdain what you were. You had managed to sever your thread by running off from the pod you were born in, but it wasn’t a clean cut. The string hung off your fragile wooden bones loosely, just waiting for somebody to grab and yank, to shred your freedom away from you once again, to leave you knotted around a pole to sit like decoration and stay.

You were not free.

You were not a paper lantern. You did not gleam from your soul like he did. You did not pour light from your heart and words and touch.

You’d do anything to forget that, to prove that sentiment wrong, to show the world that you weren’t a rock thrown into a pond. You’d do anything to change the narrative, to force a rewrite. So, you did what you always did.

You ran.

You found somewhere else to live, blipping off the radar unannounced. One moment you were there, the next you had cut your lingering thread an inch shorter, following the wind blindly like a duckling to your next destination.

Each time you settled down somewhere, you had this silent hope: maybe this is where I’ll be happy.

You clung to that hope, fervently ignoring the screeching whisper in your ear that said otherwise. The next place was never the final one. It never would be, no matter how hard you tried to delude yourself into believing you weren’t a lost soul, unable to move on. Some pathetic ghost you’d make, if you weren’t one already.

Whenever you let yourself rest for a heartbeat too long, the rope you had trimmed ever shorter was skimmed too close by too-warm fingertips, and you fled again, and again, and again.

That’s all you seemed to know nowadays.

Perhaps proven now, as you sat on a train in a foreign country, absentmindedly watching rural landscapes race past the window. Your knuckles pressed indents into your cheek, the sensation unpleasant and nearing on painful, though you had stopped paying any mind to it a while ago. Your thoughts laid scattered at your feet, and you couldn’t be bothered to pick them up.

Rather, the white matter of your brain was being filled with the empty, buzzing tune of songs you’d heard a hundred times over playing through your earbuds at the loudest volume possible. It made things easier to manage during this grand, several-thousand-mile-long trip. The less thinking you had to do, the better. It was the absolute last thing on your bucket list, loitering just under the cutoff line, hoping to sneak in a few words you refused to listen to.

You couldn’t let yourself regret this. You wouldn’t.

Not now, not after you’d already dropped everything and dissipated beyond the welkin’s gaze. You had only one place you could go to at all now, and you were already on your way there.

So if you had to blast your eardrums out to bridle the whisper-shouting voices spurned by overthinking, so be it.

Rice paddies blurred by, blending in from one farm to the next. The sun reflected off the waters the stalks soaked in, absorbing the warmth the light provided and feeding the plants with the fruit of life. Somewhere along the way, you had begun counting each field you passed for no particular reason.

You thought it’d lull you to sleep like counting sheep, subconsciously desiring to sink into a dreamless abyss and catch up on the hours that had been eluding you every night for months up to this point, given how far away you still were from your destination. But your cerebrum was not kind to you, and your body refused to succumb to the tempting allure of nothingness.

Thus, you remained as you were, counting paddies as the day never quite moved forward. The sun dwelled high, trying to glare down on you, but it couldn’t get the angle right to invade the shade of your tiny cabin room on the train.

It stayed stuck to the center of the sky, mighty and proud. But then, after what seemed like only a few seconds, you blinked, and suddenly it was hanging off the horizon’s ledge.

With a slight jolt, you realized the train had decreased in speed, and was continuing to lose momentum as it approached an isolated station, all alone in the countryside. You checked the time on your phone, your eyes feeling unusually heavy and sticky. It was only early night, but you were worn down to your sinew.

Right. Jet lag. You had hopped on a plane and traveled to the other side of the planet on a whim, another desperate attempt to grab onto the concept of freedom you craved. It didn’t take you longer than a week to find a small house deep in the pastoral lands of Japan, where mountains wrapped around the valley like a scarf. You chose Japan, if only because you learned the language when you were studying abroad some years ago.

It resided in a town of such a low population, blissfully around 600, it was a wonder you could even find a train that took you this far to begin with. Of course, that meant the house was decently rundown, with a community small enough to consider it unnecessary to repair. You couldn’t care less. All that meant to you was that it was cheaper to buy it outright than rent a more maintained structure. Buying it was a risky move, given your track record of up and ditching the last bed you slept on without any hindrance, but, at this point, you were tired.

You just wanted to be somewhere for longer than a month or two. Maybe owning a house was contrary to your desires to be unbound, with no board to pin your tattered and thin wings to, sure, the pros far outweighed the cons.

Cheap shelter, little to no people, far, far away from anywhere you’d been before. Three for three.

It’d still be a 45 minute drive or so before you actually got to your new residence, but you weren’t in any particular rush. You chose the most isolated place on purpose. Less people, less deafening sounds, less claustrophobic, brutalist structures that loomed higher and higher.

Less chance of being tied down.

With a hiss and a loggy wheeze, the train settled into place, jostling you as you got to your feet and stretched your arms above your head. The muscles in your back and shoulders twinged from sitting in the same position all day, and your legs stung like sparklers, but it was nice to work your joints properly again. After tucking away your phone and earbuds, you tugged your luggage down from the overhead rack with a grunt.

You were hopeful that there’d be taxis outside the station, and that you wouldn’t have to walk to the village. Who knows how long that would take. You’d probably keel over after the first mile. The thought made you snort while you squeezed down the aisle, suitcase with your bag stacked on it rolling behind you, purse strapped across your torso. The conductor – a sweet, older man – nodded silently to you as you disembarked, waving a farewell to you, which you returned. He was nice, you remembered him greeting you when you first boarded.

He didn’t talk much, just a polite, “welcome aboard,” while the ticket collector pointed you in the direction of your cabin, which you greatly appreciated after hopping off a plane and hurrying your ass over to your required station. You were too spent for conversation.

Leaving the station was much easier than you expected. Unlike your home country, where you could get lost just by turning 45° to the left, Japan seemed to prefer neater environments that were easy to navigate. And, upon stepping out of the building, you rejoiced at spotting a few variously colored cabs waiting along the curb. Outside of one stood a man, roughly in his 50s or so, who waved you over.

“Need help getting somewhere, miss?” He questioned, and you nodded as you pulled out your phone, scrolling through your emails to find the one confirming your purchase of the listing.

“Yeah, could you take me here?”

He glanced down at your screen when you showed him the address and chuckled quietly. “Well, that’s a surprise. Last time I visited that house was some twenty years ago to take the owner to the station, rather than from.”

You blanched nominally. Twenty years? Had your house really been abandoned for twenty years? The listing claimed it was only ten max, that estate bastard. A sigh left through your nose. Too late to deal with that now, you figured. “I just purchased it.”

The man nodded as he popped open the trunk and assisted you in slotting your luggage inside. “You look like you’ve come from far away. It’s rare for foreigners to choose to live in such a distant location. Not a fan of the city?”

I fucking hate cities.

“Something like that, yeah,” you assented, thanking him as he opened the back door for you.

You appreciated his efficiency as he wasted no time dilly-dallying around. As soon as he was buckled up in the car, he was on the road, taking you down the last leg of your trip. The world outside the window streaked by in shades of violet and blood orange as the sun hovered on the edge of the skyline, reluctant to rest for the night.

“Ah, apologies. I’m Hayato Kazuhiko, you may call me Kazu, if you prefer,” he quickly introduced himself, and you followed suit. “Why’d you choose this little village of all places? It’s very small.”

You hummed. “That’s exactly why I chose it. I’m not a big…people-person, if you know what I mean.”

The older gentleman chuckled lightly. “My wife is the same,” he nodded as he peeked at you via the rearview mirror. “She had to visit the small town I used to live in one day, and it was love at first sight for us. She was immediately drawn to country life, and we’ve lived out in the neighboring town here ever since.”

“How long have you been married?”

“Twenty-five years,” he nodded, and you could see the pure love and devotion in his eyes as he spoke about his spouse. It was wholesome, and softened your heart a sliver.

He was surprisingly relaxing to listen to. Pleasant voice that didn’t grate on your ears, a few stories shared about his wife, the occasional tale about some significant structure or location. It was calming, in an odd way. He’d point out a shrine or hiking trail you’d pass by, and offer to take you to them one day to teach you its history and meaning, and you actually considered it.

It could’ve been the harmless nature about him. Even as night descended and you could only really see his silhouette, inspecting him reminded you of your father, but…better, for lack of an accurate word. You weren’t afraid that he’d suddenly raise his voice, or take you down a suspicious road – or, hell, back to the train station to send your sorry ass right back to where you came from.

“Mr.–” you cut yourself off and cleared your throat, mildly embarrassed about slipping back into your mother tongue. Japanese honorifics were something you continued to struggle with. “Hayato-san, do you have children?”

He gave a mellow laugh and shook his head slightly. “Please, just Kazu is fine. And I do, three of them, in fact. A younger son, and twin girls about your age,” he estimated roughly.

So the fatherly air to him you picked up on wasn’t imagined. That brought you a form of reassurance you couldn’t distinctly name.

“My twin girls are all the way up in Tokyo,” he continued, chest puffed with pride, “and my son is still in highschool, causing chaos.”

“Chaos?” You raised a brow.

“Yes, but not the type you’d think,” he hummed. “He’s a gentle child, but his kind nature means he’s unfortunately quite gullible and gets himself into trouble.”

A voice, the faint echo of a memory long lost, intoned in the far reaches of your lucidity; someone shaming you for getting caught up in an issue that wasn’t even your fault. Your stomach twisted with dread, and your head snapped to peer at Hayato, expecting to find disappointment shining in his eyes when you studied them through the rear-view mirror.

Except, there wasn’t any.

Concern at most, a crease in his brow as he warred within himself between protecting and helping his kin, or letting the kid learn on his own. There wasn’t any disappointment, or anger, or exasperation. You could see him reminiscing as he stopped talking, focusing more on the twists that followed the mountain’s curve, and all you saw was just…love, and happiness.

The churning in your gut settled, instead replaced with a sense of hollowness. Not the kind that made you sick; rather, it was like you had a gap in your chest where a puzzle piece was missing, while his was filled with a perfectly fitted heart.

Bittersweet, possibly, but only distantly so. You felt happy for someone who was borderline a complete stranger to you, someone you shouldn’t even care about beyond tipping him well for driving you to the middle of nowhere in the dead of night, but you did anyway.

Maybe I could have had that too, your thoughts mutedly supplied, if I was normal.

Then again, you didn’t want that, not really. Though you couldn’t tell if that was just who you were as a person, or a result of the coals perpetually under your feet, it didn’t change your mind.

Nothing could.

You were sure of it.

Smooth concrete eventually became a densely packed dirt road when Kazu turned off the main path, the car vibrating as the wheels rolled over loose stones and gravel. It didn’t last long, thankfully, as the shabby looking pile of wood came into view, albeit dark since the stars overhead were too dim to illuminate anything much.

“Where we are, miss,” he spoke as you both climbed out of the vehicle and met at the trunk. He opened it to retrieve your luggage, and you pulled your wallet out of your purse and counted off a few bills, wondering what the right amount to give to him would be.

It was hard to translate currency worth when things were valued differently in this country. Your trip abroad was a long time ago.

“Is this enough?” You peered up at him and held out the bills.

He took one glance at them and chuckled deeply. “That’s far too much, really,” he replied as he pulled only two of the strips out of the small stack you were holding. “Be careful with your money while you adjust to the currency of this country. Do you need assistance with your luggage?”

“Oh,” you analyzed the remaining money in your hands before tucking it back into your wallet. You really hoped he took the right amount needed and didn’t undersell himself. “No, I’ll be okay. You got me here in one piece, that’s all I could ask for.”

“Are you sure?”

Your head bobbed as you inspected your suitcase and bag, popping out the handle. “Yes, I am. Drive safe, Kazu-san. Thank you for taking me here.”

His chest rumbled with a laugh. “Please, it’s my job. You are pleasant company.”

“Likewise,” your lips rounded into a smile as you bowed politely. It was small, and you were tired, but it was genuine, the first one you’ve had for a long while. “Goodnight.”

Kazuhiko waved his hand in farewell, bidding you good dreams as he climbed back into the taxi and drove off, leaving you alone.

Your lungs deflated.

The air here was crisper, stinging your throat in a pleasant way as you inhaled slowly. Faint hints of pine and sap drifted across your senses. Nothing indicated any heavy stenches of smog or gasoline or gods know what litters the streets of every downtown city you’d been to before.

It would probably take you a while to get used to, and you oddly didn’t want to, if only so you could admire the fresh fragrance every time you stepped outside. Your muscles relaxed, surprising you as you hadn’t noticed just how tense you were until you were perched outside the front gate of your brand new (old) lodging.

Turning to face it, you groaned upon the realization that it was on a hill. Said hill was tiny, mind you, but a hill nonetheless. You found you couldn’t give much of a shit right now, just yearning to lay down and pass the fuck out for a while. Maybe the rest of tomorrow, too. A few weeks, actually, if you were allowed to choose. A coma sounded wonderful.

“Home sweet home,” you mumbled to nobody in particular as you pushed open the gate and virtually jumped out of your skin at the near shriek it gave. Okay, it had to have been longer than 20 years, that was loud.

With your heart fluttering rapidly, you made a note to deal with it (and everything else) later and trudged up the incline, almost eating shit and dying when the toe of your boot caught on the edge of a stepping stone. Another thing to add to the “deal with later” list. You had a feeling it would just keep growing exponentially.

Finding the key was easy, for better and worse. It simply sat in the door knob’s lock, very safe and secure and definitely not putting your house at risk of…what?

There was nothing in there, evident when you pushed open the front door, which wailed just as loudly as the fence gate. You felt the blood drain from your face. Sure, the interior was empty, but the house was a wreck. Peeling walls, strange, crusty scent, and a sticky floor at the entrance that made you grimace when your sole pulled off it like velcro. You knew that it was custom in Japan to take off your shoes at the door, but fuck that. Absolutely not. You were not walking in any part of this house either in socks or barefoot.

Everything was virtually pitch black as you delved further in, so you depended on your other senses, and the ability to smell was one you wished you didn’t have. Your nose wrinkled as various rotting odors welcomed you, making you immediately regret going through all this.

Morning. You’d deal with it all in the morning.

Practically sneaking on your tip-toes, you explored the open space, trying to find the room that smelled the least and was passable to sleep in. Granted, there were really only two actual rooms down a hall going opposite of the kitchen besides the restroom and washroom, but the bigger one seemed decent.

At least you had a sleeping bag and wouldn’t be conking out on the bare floor. You went through the motions of prepping for bed mostly by habit, doing the bare minimum seeing as you didn’t have much of a choice. You brushed your teeth with the water from your tumbler, located and unrolled your sleeping bag, and climbed under the rustling top after yanking your shoes off, zipping it up as far as it went.

Admittedly, the setup was kinda janky, but it got the job done.

You couldn’t be bothered to change into pajamas.

With your head plopped on probably the least comfortable pillow you had found to bring with you (also the only one that would fit in with the rest of your shit, it was practically a pillowcase filled loosely with sporadically placed lumps of stuffing), you closed your eyes, and your body finally let sleep take over.

─────•(-•ʚɞ•-)•─────

Morning was not pleasant. Surrounded by the musty scent of gods-know-what, back aching from the restless sleep you got from your pitiful sleeping bag and the hard floor, you were groggy beyond belief and desperate for fresh air. And a massage. And a cigarette.

You didn’t smoke, finding the heavy and pungent funk nauseating, but the temptation was there. You felt you gained a little more understanding of smokers.

Brushing the thought aside, you pushed yourself up into a sitting position and rubbed the heel of your palm against the sore spot on the side of your skull. You would have believed someone replaced your pillow with a rock if you hadn’t intimately known that lump of fluff. Or, rather, lack thereof.

Red lines, tender to the touch and tingling a little, were pressed onto the arm you laid on for most of the time you slept, causing you to hiss when you traced your fingers against them. It seemed to be barely past dawn when you reviewed what was out your window, leaving you questioning just how long you slept, if at all.

Figuring you wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep anyway, you shoved yourself out of ‘bed’ and groaned when every joint in your body popped and every bone creaked. Hell, you weren’t sure you’d be able to sleep tonight again. Not here, anyway. More problems for future you.

She’d certainly be happy about that. She already had so much shit to handle.

The growl of your stomach reminded you that food was something you needed to consume to continue living.

Reluctant as you were to do anything, you figured going out by starvation was 1) probably not the best idea, and 2) you wanted to be out of this dingy torture shed.

What was unfortunate was that you, like a smart person, didn’t bring anything more than snack bars and those weird trail mixes with the fruit cubes that you just threw into your bag without much care. It was really the only motivation you needed to walk your sorry self out the door.

After you brushed your teeth and changed your clothes, of course, being very careful to not let anything touch the floor.

Stepping out of your home through the shabby and creaky door with your purse slung across your chest, you were met with the grandiose sight of mountains surrounding you on every side. They rose high, aching to brush the sky and touch a star, just one, just once, just for a second. Covered in thick greenery, you figured the faint yet present scents of cedar, pine, and other woodsy tones were carried down into the valley from the steep inclines.

You couldn’t see any of these details nearly as well when you were dragging your tired ass to this place with ink covering the sky in a thick veil, but it truly was breathtaking.

Had nature always been this green before?

Having only done some cursory research on the village – namely, population – you didn’t bother giving yourself time to actually inspect photos of the tiny rural town. From what you’d seen anyway, pictures could never do it justice. A velvety breeze brushed against your cheek, prompting you to tuck your hair behind your ear and pivot towards the direction the gale came from.

Your breath left you in a silent ‘oh’, mesmerized by the incredible view of the rising sun you had. It shone valiantly and radiantly through the gaps it had carved out between the towering peaks itself, illuminating the land in shades of brilliant gold with its splendor.

For perhaps the first time in your life, you felt…nothing.

Not a sense of hollowness, nor a void in your chest, no. A peaceful kind of nothing, as if not a thing in the world could take your mind away from this newfound elysium you found in sharing the morning’s shine with its source.

Invisible fingers caressed your jaw, threading through your hair with the gentle touch of adoration, as if you were delicate.

You hated to be treated like you were easily breakable, as fragile as glass, but this sensation was consoling, rather than degrading. The wind cherished you, not akin to a brittle figurine, rather as someone who was beautiful and worthy of gentleness unsullied by pity or licentious intentions. As if you were someone to be worshipped and revered.

A mother combing her fingers through her daughter’s hair, humming a lullaby only she knew the tune of.

Perhaps it wasn’t impossible to find what you were searching for. You didn’t know what it was exactly, a question without an answer, but it gave you a place to start.

With a deep breath swelling behind your ribcage, filling your soul with air untouched by sickly city pollution you were so accustomed to, you turned and began heading down the beaten dirt path that led into the heart of the village. The early summer warmth was pleasant on your skin, not too hot given the time. It seeped into your cold fingers and made them ache a little less with each minute going by.

While the town you had chosen was visually quite a bit older in style, with smaller structures dotted about reflecting traditional Japanese designs, there were some modernities. Electricity was, fortunately, one of them.

Based on the fact that you found and bought the listing online, you figured there was likely a way for you to get your hands on some Wi-Fi here, too. You’d probably die without it.

The nearer you drew to the center of the population, the denser the structures became. Not to say they were rubbing walls, but neighbors were only a short few steps away, compared to the distance between your own house and the one closest to it.

Minka houses in significantly better condition than yours spanned either side of the road as the terrain shifted from soil to asphalt. They were beautiful, and you bet that living in that kind of house in this kind of place was either absurdly expensive, or dirt cheap, with no real in-between. You were personally on the latter end of this, which probably wasn’t a good thing.

Doomed by the narrative once again.

Off in the distance on an elevated surface, you could see what you thought was a Wayo Kenchiku temple, if you had to guess. Its overlapping roofs were a deep green in shade, nearly black. They protected the desaturated brown walls of the building, and you were taken aback by how easy the temple was to see from where you were.

It sat across a wide river, one surprisingly calm as you approached it. It rushed along, springing with glimmering waves that shimmered under the light and frothed white around raised boulders. Despite it coming across as fairly deep, you could see clear through to the bottom, with the water itself being a refreshing shade of clear blue. A bridge spanned the rift, made of sturdy wood that had dark railings protecting either side of you, matching the aesthetic of your surroundings.

The bridge whined under your weight, but didn’t shift, giving you some reassurance that you wouldn’t go crashing through the planks. It led into the most packed section of the whole area, with structures built closer together, bearing a more modernized likeness, while retaining its unique characteristics.

In truth, though you remained apprehensive, the voice that scratched at the back of your skull everywhere you went and pestered you to run, run, run, had quieted. You hadn’t registered it, the silence, too focused on taking in your new surroundings as a serene blanket covered the thoughts that usually pranced wild and free in your cranium, putting them to rest with a whispered mercy:

This feels right.

It didn’t take you long to spot what you figured was the local grocery store. The bell above the door chimed as you stepped inside, peering at what products you could see on the shelves and aisles from where you stood. Being an anxious little creature, you double-checked to make sure you had your wallet, as well as the translated bills within. Last thing you wanted was to embarrass yourself in a place where everybody knew everybody.

Reassured, you chose a random aisle and headed down it, skimming the products to see if any of them appeared even vaguely familiar to you. Besides cans of soup and tubes of Pringles, there wasn’t much for you to grab onto. Sure, there was ramen, but you didn’t have a way to boil water. Cereal and milk, maybe?

Shit, no, you didn’t have any cutlery or dinnerware. Unless you wanted to be a sad raccoon and eat raw cereal straight from the box, but you weren’t that desperate.

Yet.

Mentally crossing out your options as you went through them, you nearly knocked over an entire row of items when you almost ran into an older lady who stood in the middle of the strip, watching you.

“Oh! I’m so sorry!” You hopped back a foot, raising your hands in front of you placatingly. “I-I didn’t see you there, am I in your way?”

The woman laughed and shook her head, her smile reminding you of a grandmother that’d sneakily give her grandkids candies while their parents weren’t watching. “You’re quite alright, I was actually wondering if you need help?”

“Oh, uh…” Bashfully scratching the back of your head, you glanced at the various bags of foodstuffs beside you and debated your choices. Say no, when it was painfully obvious how green behind the ears you were, or set down your pride and ask for assistance.

Your stomach chose for you, warning you to suck it up and get food before it began eating itself.

The woman’s chuckle was heartier the second time around, her eyes glimmering with mirth as she motioned for you to follow her. Feeling a bit like a scolded child, you trailed after her while she wove her way around her store towards the produce section at the back. She pulled a random fruit from the thunder-rain-shelf-thing (you honestly had no idea what it was called) and rubbed it against her apron before handing it to you.

“Eat,” she insisted.

You blinked rapidly, peeping the fruit, the sign for it, then her. “How much…?”

The lady waved her free hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. Eat, I insist.”

You were going to argue further, but a deep cramp in your gut had you sinking your teeth into the sweet and wonderfully-textured treat. As embarrassing as it was, you borderline moaned as you chewed, quickly taking another bite. Whatever it was, it tasted divine.

This time, when she directed you to move with her, you followed without hesitation. “Thank you so much,” you mumbled as she pulled out a chair from behind the counter and urged for you to sit on it.

“It’s nothing, I can’t let you go hungry, now,” she swept away your worries. “You’re new here,” she stated, rather than asked.

You nodded through another bite, waiting until you swallowed before continuing the conversation. “Yes, I got here last night.”

“Oh? Are you visiting someone?”

“No, I moved here.”

Her brows raised. “Really, now? Who are you staying with?”

Mid-bite, you stopped to address the matter. “Oh, no, I’m not living with anyone. I purchased the house just outside the village.”

The way her eyes widened was nearly comical. “That place? Now, that’s a surprise.”

If you had a nickel.

“That’s the second time I’ve heard that now,” your lips tugged into a frown and you stifled it with another chomp into the sweet object in your hand.

At that, she simpered mutedly. “I apologize. I’m merely awed that it was still standing, let alone that someone had bought it. Last I heard, there hasn’t been anyone living there for, oh, maybe 20 years or so.”

The realtor, that dog. He did lie to you after all.

You scornfully hoped he was enjoying spending your money.

Picking at your cheek with your free hand, you looked away with a nervous giggle. “Yeah, it’s…not in great shape. I have a lot of work cut out for me.”

“You’re going to try to repair it?”

“Yeah. Keyword being try.”

“I’m not sure that’s a wise choice.”

You sighed. “Me neither, but I don’t have much of a choice now.”

The woman shook her head, smiling regardless. “You let me know what kind of help you need. There are plenty of handymen in this village of ours, I’m sure they’d be happy to help.”

“Oh, that’s very nice of you, but…I’m sorry, I didn’t ask for your name,” you pouted, hurriedly introducing yourself.

“Just call me Granny. And I won’t take no for an answer, missy,” okay, now you really felt scolded. “I won’t stand for you trying to fix up that cluster of wood by yourself, it’s far too dangerous. And you shouldn’t be staying there while it’s in that condition, either. Give me a moment, let me find someone you can stay with.”

Panic rose up in you and you waved your hands frantically in front of you. “N-No! It’s fine, I’ll– I’ll figure something out, really, don’t worry. Please.”

Granny eyed you suspiciously, her hand hovering over the landline on the wall. “Are you sure?”

“Yes! It’s fine, I’m fine, I promise.”

Her eyes remained squinted, even as she lowered her arm. “Alright, if you say so. But if you need any kind of help, big or small, come to me right away, okay?”

Relieved you wouldn’t have to interact with more strangers, you nodded and deflated. “I will.”

“Promise me, young lady.”

“I promise.”

She grinned brightly and ruffled your hair. “That’s a good girl. Let me pack you a few things to take with you so you have something to eat.”

“Ah– wait, I…I’m not very good with currency yet,” you halted her sheepishly. The prices were still confusing as fuck to you. Man, how the fuck were you going to manage this when you get a job? If?

“Nonsense, it’s on me. I won’t charge you.”

Sorry, what? Did she do that for every person she met five minutes prior?

“But– but that’s not–”

“Finish up your peach,” she asserted as she was already walking away with a bag in her hands that wasn’t there a second ago. What was it with grannies and having some weird, innate magic?

Your eyes darted down at your half-eaten peach, surprised to learn that it wasn’t some foreign fruit you’d never even heard of before, let alone tried. It was an exceptional blend between succulent and rich; easy to bite into and chew without pouring juice all over yourself.

The fuck kind of peaches have you been eating before?

Sensing you might be buying these often if they were this good, you had well-nigh inhaled the rest of it by the time Granny came back with a stuffed bag.

“Here you go, dear,” she held out the shopping bag to you, which you took graciously after tossing out the peach pit into the small trash can by the counter.

Glancing into the bag, your lips shifted downwards. It was filled with a few different fruits and veggies, a couple bags of snacks, but mostly packaged food that looked like it could be eaten as is without needing to worry about cooking it. Your guilt skyrocketed. “Granny, this is too–”

“Don’t worry about paying. Save your money for the repairs of that home of yours.”

Your head shot up, eyes widening. “I can’t–”

“You can because I say so, young lady,” Granny puffed out her chest proudly, using a motherly tone that easily put you in your place, much to your bafflement. You didn’t even listen to your own mother like this. “Come back in the evening, I’ll have something cooked up for you.”

“You really don’t–”

She made brushing motions with her fingers, shooing you off the chair. “Off you go. There’s a lovely little pergola in the park, go have breakfast there. Just turn right when you leave and keep walking straight.”

Flustered, you let her push you along out the door, your confused brain trying to catch up. “Granny–”

“I’ll have a list of handymen for you when you return,” she informed you right as she managed to get you out the door. “Explore the town while there’s still daylight!”

And just like that, she was back in her store, sweeping with a broom that you swear materialized out of nowhere. You stared at the shop for a good minute, blinking dumbly until you processed whatever just happened.

You still weren’t wholly sure. You went in, expecting to grab a bag of something random to ‘feed’ yourself with, and left with a bag full of free food from a woman who spontaneously decided to give it to you.

The fuck. She’d go bankrupt if she just kept giving strangers sustenance off her own back.

Your own feet seemed to carry you along as you exhaled through your nose and took her instructions to heart. Too late now, you’d feel bad if you went in and returned everything. It’d be insulting at this point, and you were hungry, anyway

A cooked meal did sound lovely as well, discomfited as you were. You had never met your own grandmothers – not in person at least, so you had no idea if grandmothers were simply like that or not. Regardless, you had a feeling she was going to fill that role in whether you liked it or not.

Luckily, you were drifting towards like. She did give you free food, after all, and was going to find help for you. That part you were more apprehensive about, however, stubbornness and introversion making you want to be stupid and attempt to pick up carpentry out of nowhere.

All you could do was try to accept it and sigh, taking in the sights, stores, and dwellings as you walked past them and towards the park. A couple shops caught your eye, particularly a clothing boutique, and what could possibly be a hardware store. You weren’t certain, and didn’t want to find out yet. The prospect of entering one and facing the big ass sign that said ‘you don’t know what the hell you're doing!’ was too daunting to approach for now.

It didn’t take you long to get to the park. In fact, it was such a short walk that it bemused you. A population of 600 people seemed larger on paper than it was in reality. Most of the town was behind you, granted, but the uncanniness was uplifting, in a way.

It didn’t feel claustrophobic. The trees in the park were closer together than some of the buildings outside it, and they smelled so good that it knocked you back a step. The entire wild garden carried the fresh perfume of sweet and fresh vegetation, from blooming flowers scattered about and the grass underfoot, to the rustling leaves above. You couldn’t recall the last time you were in a park, let alone one that was as vibrant and alive as this one.

The pergola was easy to find. It resided in the center, right beside a large pond that you saw was filled with koi fish when you got close.

They swam to-and-fro, carefree, intermingling, playing, and searching for food.

Your stomach twisted when you made an unintentional connection in your mind. They reminded you of kites. Pretty, ultimately trapped.

The koi fish, however, didn’t seem to mind one bit. Not that you could understand fish language. They just went about their business calmly. It perplexed you, didn’t spending their lives in a single body of water bother them? Didn’t it make them depressed?

Could fish feel depression?

Shaking your head to rid it of the peculiar journey your mind had gone off on, you set the bag down on the table under the pergola and settled into one of the chairs, reaching to dig through your options. Of the items present, you opted to munch on a sandwich Granny had tossed in with everything else, bundled in saran wrap and clearly made by her.

While you were skeptical of pre-made food bought in a grocery store like this, one sniff had you biting into it ravenously. You were way hungrier than you thought as you devoured it, trying to will yourself to slow down enough to at least savor the taste of it. Your earlier guilt and trepidation disappeared three bites in, and you were now very much anticipating Granny’s handmade cooking if this was the kind of sandwich she was capable of creating.

You questioned again if all grannies were like this, or if you lucked out. Either way, if it meant you didn’t have to struggle with food for the time being (or ever, if Granny let you mooch off her forever), you didn’t mind getting spontaneously adopted by her at all.

About halfway through your meal, the koi fish in the pond caught your attention again. They were gorgeous animals, graceful and sleek with scales that twinkled iridescently when the sun flickered over them from between the gaps in the canopy above. They had you mesmerized, sights focused solely on them as they showed off.

Maybe they had managed to hypnotize you, because you decided to tear off a piece of the ham, rip it into tiny pieces, then throw it towards the pond. There was a large splash as all the fish rushed towards the food, making you snicker.

A sort of childish glee bloomed within you, persuading you to indulge them a smidgen longer before you finished off your food. The park seemed like a sacred place where nothing could touch you, where the lands would remain lavish and healthy, and where you could let all your worries fade away.

Arcadian – that was the best way you could describe it. Placid, halcyon, grounding, mellow. You could go on and on, really, but you–

The hairs on the back of your neck prickled when you sensed that someone, or something, was watching you. Heat grazed against your nape, slow, measured breaths right behind your ear. A kiss from a pair of soft lips that never reached your skin. A demanding presence wrapped around your figure, a prey caught in the trap laid out precisely by a steadfast and salivating predator.

Ghostly fingers slid down your shoulders, crept over your forearms, and encircled your wrists, holding them in place with a deceptively lax hold. Something firm and wide pressed against your shoulder blades, keeping you between it and the table.

Your heart kicked in your throat, preventing you from swallowing anything more than a tiny gasp.

And, like the cornered quarry you were, you shifted slowly to peek from the corner of your eye, avoiding any sudden or abrupt movements. You expected to find a beast hovering over your shoulder, eagerly anticipating your reaction.

There was nothing.

Only foliage greeted your wide-eyed inspection, expansive and untouched since you came here. The feeling of being hunted on had evaporated as soon as you checked, and though uncertain of this verdict, you chalked it up to being in totally unfamiliar territory. A result of a soundless, featherlight brush of wind, a critter in the foliage envying the fish you fed, lasting no more than a sigh.

Your brow furrowed as you searched through the plant life, seeing not even a hair out of the ordinary. That dovish sensation the park carried returned like it had never left to begin with, coaxing you to let it go and relax.

Maybe that was your cue to leave.

You shook off the lingering sensation with a shiver. Everything was okay in the wooded pasture, and as tranquil as your surroundings were, you knew you’d have to face the elephant in the room eventually.

You dusted yourself off as you got up to dislodge any lingering crumbs, carefully packed everything back into the bag, and took one final look around. This place would become your safe haven, you determined. Already, you were thinking of coming back, the memory of your adrenaline spiking fading rapidly. Imagining returning here gave you that minor push you need to fill your lungs with courage and turn to head back out the way you came.

You could explore the town later. Right now, you needed to address the state of your new stead and gauge what laid ahead of you first. Maybe it’d give you at least an idea of what you required to get started on all of this, though you doubted you’d come out of witnessing it in the full glory of the sun knowing more than you did now.

Absentmindedly, the milieu filtered into your subconscious, automatically noting small landmarks here and there to assist you in finding your way around the streets while they still confused you, until you had learned to traverse them and knew every path and alley like the back of your hand.

(Just in case, you assessed the back of your right hand. You know, to reacquaint yourself with it.)

Glumness overtook. You knew you probably wouldn’t stay here for too long, no matter how much you liked it. You could fix up the house, flip it, and head off someplace else again in pursuit of something that probably didn’t exist.

It’s always been this way for you. The same old pattern, the same old story, the neverending book that looped in on itself over and over, caught in a wormhole where the exit was the entrance.

So it was easy to convince yourself to not get attached to the valley, nor the people, nor that damn sticks-on-bricks abode. Not even the grass filled with flowers and protected by tall trees you had already found yourself longing for.

It was easier this way. This was all you knew, after all.

You had it all figured out.

Didn't you?

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lamentationsofalonelypotato · 7 months

Text

You Call It Madness But I Call It Love

Chapter 3: The Summer Has to End Someday

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy. This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter three of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 2.9K

Warnings: References to sex, Cursing (once or twice), Drinking, Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, a little OOC,

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. Reader is occasionally described as "curvy." If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

**************************************************

Philadelphia 1935

"Sit still." You say, dipping your brush gently in the small pot of water at your knee, before stroking it through your paints and placing it against the pad of watercolor paper in your lap.

It was a beautiful day at Fairmount Park. Children ran across the grassy fields flying kites and avoiding the outstretched hands of their mothers, while couples lounged on blankets with picnic baskets overflowing with sandwiches and champagne. The sun was sending gilded light across the pond that gently rippled with the breeze that brushed through your hair, pulling it across your rosy cheeks that blushed under Ben's gaze.

It was your 16th birthday and despite your mother's insistence to take you shopping in the busy stores that lined the streets downtown, you had refused, choosing rather to come to the park and prepare your mind for the party that would follow this evening. You had already glimpsed the abomination of purple tulle that your mother expected you to wear and you hoped that a quiet afternoon in the park would wipe the monstrosity from your memory.

At least before you were squeezed into said dress later that evening.

"I’m bored." Ben stated, leaning back on his elbows where he was sprawled next to you in the lush grass that was no doubt staining the light blue dress that clung to your body. One you had chosen for yourself that accentuated the way you looked, rather than hid it as the other dresses your mother bought for you. However, when Ben came to pick you up this morning your mother had insisted you bring a coat, despite it being the middle of summer. You hadn't missed the flash of anger in Ben's eyes when she wrapped the coat around your shoulders to hide your curves. The same coat that Ben immediately removed when you walked out the door and threw over the wrought iron fence that surrounded the front of your home, before looping his arm in his to direct you toward the park.

"It was you who said you wanted me to paint you." You sigh, looking up at your friend.

Ben's navy suit jacket was open, the buttons of his matching vest and white shirt underneath strained as his muscular shoulders pulled against them and made your breath catch as your eyes traced them. There was a pale pink phlox flower in his front jacket pocket, one you stuffed there earlier despite the roll of his eyes. You had wanted some contrast between his suit and the color of the flower, and despite Ben's annoyance, he obliged you as he always did.

"I was hoping there would be less clothing involved." Ben grins at you.

"You know, no other gentleman speaks to me the way you do."

"I didn't know you considered me a gentleman y/n. I thought that you knew me better than that." His grin quickly shifts into a mischievous smirk that makes you bite the inside of your cheek and turn back to the page.

A year had passed since Ben got you watercolor paints and ignited a unquenchable passion for painting. Something about the way the colors ran together soothed you, the gentle stroke of the brush against the page calming the usual frustrations of your life.

One of which was sitting beside you, looking entirely too attractive for someone who'd just rolled out of bed and was wearing the exact outfit he had been wearing when he snuck through your window last night. This morning he had crawled out the window and rang the doorbell at the front of your home, acting as if he'd been up for hours.

You pause at the thought of last night. Ben was leaving for boarding school number seven at the end of the week, but the way he looked when he showed up the night before, rumpled and smelling of cheap whiskey, meant that he and his father had another disagreement. Despite his inability to talk about what happened, if it was your burden to bear, to always be there for him, you welcomed it.

"Hey." Ben's hand comes down on your arm to draw your attention back to him.

You look back up at him. "Hmm?"

"What's going on in that pretty little head of yours?" He turns his head to the side to examine you.

"Thinking about the party."

"Oh right. Should be fun. Can't believe I received an invitation. I thought your mother would have burned it-"

"She tried." You smirk. "I snatched it from the fireplace just for you."

"How thoughtful."

“Selfish really. There’s no way I’m going through one of those parties without you again.” You snort, catching his emerald gaze.

“The Christmas party was not that bad-“

“Says the guy who got drunk on eggnog and then preceded to flirt with a potted plant!”

“That potted plant was more interesting than that idiot How-“ Ben’s next words are cut off.

"Y/n!" You hear someone shout from behind you.

Howard Stine struts towards the two of you across the sidewalk, where a few other boys stand in a tight group. He’s wearing a sand colored suit and vest, with the chain of his golden pocket watch catching in the warm sunlight with each stride forward. At Howard’s appearance, Ben sits up from his relaxed position, leaning towards you.

“Speak of the devil.” You hear him mutter.

Ben nods his head towards the group of boys, who nod back in greeting. Ben was more popular than you. Your own circle of friends was reduced to Ben, your housekeeper, the gardener, and a handful of girls your own age that only wished to talk about how close you and Ben were and once they realized you were just friends, they then proceeded to ask you if you could set them up.

As if you would ever set them up with him, you were still trying to set yourself up with him.

A few of the group of boys you recognize as the sons of your father's friends and others boys you'd seen Ben stumble around with on the streets after a night at the bar around the corner. You watch Ben's left hand go to the flower in his front jacket pocket and crunch it in his fist before the others can see it.

The action made you smile to yourself, because despite Ben not wanting them to see him with the flower, he had still allowed you to place it there.

Howard blocks the rays of sun above you so that you don't have to squint up at him. He wasn't terrible looking. Howard was your height, with reddish brown hair that was slicked back over his head and he had a dusting of cinnamon colored freckles on his cheeks, but he was nowhere near as tall or broad as Ben. Where Ben was muscular, Howard was lanky, his hands small and sweaty. Ben moved with a grace and elegance that you couldn't comprehend, while Howard plodded along, stumbling on solid ground. Howard's pointed chin was nothing like the strong jaw of Ben's rugged face. Something that you studied whenever Ben was with you and you spent several nights devoted to capturing in your sketchbook.

"Hi Howard. How are you?" You smile at him, brushing back your hair from your face with your free hand.

Howard's eyes move from Ben to you, taking in your close proximity. Ben's hand was still touching your arm, and the tip of your knee an inch away from the outer edge of Ben's thigh. In fact, Ben had leaned towards you so close when Howard came over that his breath rustled through your hair.

"Good. What are you doing?” Howard moves a hand through his hair to tousle the reddish waves.

“Ben is obliging me. It’s a beautiful day and I wished to capture it.” You wave the brush in your right hand for emphasis.

“Ah.” Howard squints at the watercolor paper. “Well it’s certainly interesting. I didn’t know you liked to paint.”

“She likes all kind of things Howie.” Ben responds with a smirk, his voice dripping with suggestion.

Your eyes flash a warning to where Ben sits. He’s withdrawn his hand, but he’s still leaning close enough to you that you can smell the spicy scent of his shampoo and cologne.

It reminds you of this morning when you woke up and realized that Ben had pulled your back into his chest while he was sleeping. When his arm was curled around your waist as he buried his head in your hair and muttered something in his sleep that you couldn’t understand. The thought makes you flush bright red, remembering how wonderful and intimate it felt to be there.

Howard ignores him. “We're all going to go to Wallman's on the corner for shakes, I was wondering if you wanted to come?" He doesn't acknowledge Ben.

“Well-“ You begin to say, taking in the beauty of the pond and your paint stained hands.

The truth was you didn’t want to go, you wanted to sit there in the grass forever with Ben, where you couldn’t tell if you were warm because you were under the golden light of the sun or under Ben's gaze.

“She’s busy.” Ben says before you can finish your sentence.

Howard’s smile becomes tight. “I think I was asking her.”

Ben shrugs. “And I think I just gave you an answer.”

"Why don't you just-" Howard begins, but Ben is already up off the ground, pressing his chest against Howard's, his green eyes blazing in the light of the sun.

"Why don't I just what Howie?" Ben's voice is low, the deep rumble stirring something in the pit of your stomach.

You loved a lot of things about Ben, but his temper was not one of them. Ben rarely lost his temper with you, yes you did annoy him and he would lose his patience, but he often turned that anger into teasing.

"Ben." You stand, leaving your watercolor pad on the ground, so you can place your hand on Ben's shoulder. It was supposed to be a gentle reminder. Ben knew that you were more than capable of making your own decisions, but you couldn't help but wonder why Ben had responded the way he did.

Is he jealous?

Ben looks down at you with a frown, but finally he sighs and takes a step back.

Howard's eyes are narrowed at where Ben now stands to your right, Ben's arms crossed over his muscular chest, but Howard's gaze shifts back to you expectantly.

"Howard that's really sweet, but it's getting late and I have to get ready for the party tonight." You force a giggle to ease the tension in Howard's shoulders. "You are coming right?"

"Of course." He smiles. "I was hoping that you'd save a dance for me."

"She-" Ben begins to say, but you elbow him in the side, hard.

"Of course I will."

“Great. I guess I’ll see you tonight.” He frowns one more time at Ben before turning back to the group of boys on the sidewalk and leaving with them.

Ben stands there for a minute watching him go.

"You should try to be nicer to him." You say, tugging on the sleeve of Ben’s jacket to grab his attention.

"Why?" Ben snorts.

"Because-" You shrug. "He's sweet and he’s interested in me. I’d hope that you two would get along.”

Ben rolls his eyes. "You could do better."

"Last time I checked the suitors aren't exactly lining up. Not to mention you tend to scare them all off." You wave a hand around you for emphasis. "And I'm not getting any younger."

"Neither am I, but you don’t see me settling for Howard Stine.”

"I didn't realize he was your type." You snort rolling your eyes at him as you sit back down in the grass and pick up your painting again. "I haven't seen you courting anyone recently."

You try to keep the happiness from your voice at the thought. Ben hadn't been trying to chase after as many girls in the past few months as he had previously. And you wondered if his father was trying to arrange him with anyone. If Ben’s mother had still been alive you knew that she would have found someone suitable for Ben, but you’d heard your father say something to your mother behind a closed door that Ben’s father had asked about one of the daughters of his work colleagues.

The thought makes something in your chest tighten to the point of snapping. You hated the idea of watching Ben court someone else, watching someone else kiss him, run their fingers through his hair, and hated the thought that Ben would spend the night with someone else other than you.

Of course when he spent the night with you, all you did was talk, but it was possible that Ben might find that sense of companionship with a lover rather than you.

And then where would you be? Alone.

Ben reclines back as he did before, shaking his hair out behind him, and closing his eyes. It's lighter in the sun, more of a honeyed brown than the usual oak. "I leave in a week."

"Hasn't stopped you in the past." You mutter more to yourself than him.

"Maybe nothing has caught my eye." He opens one eye to study you.

"Hmm."

“Or perhaps I’d much rather spend my last days of freedom with you.” He flirts with a wide smile.

“Last days of freedom?” You laugh, ignoring his tease. “We both know you’ll probably be back within the month.”

Instead of laughing, Ben’s smile fades into a frown and you wonder if he’s thinking of his father.

“Ben I’m sorry I didn’t mean-“

Ben shrugs it off and pulls out a silver flask from his jacket pocket. As soon as he opens it, the sour smell of whiskey floats through the air before he takes a swig. He holds it out to you, but you wave it away, focusing back on your paper.

"So if he's the one, why didn't you go with him to Wallman's? You made up a bullshit excuse that you had to go home." Ben takes another pull from the flask, but you can't shake the shift in his tone.

"I wanted to finish painting." You say to avoid the truth, that you didn’t want to leave him, because you could tell he was still upset over whatever he and his father talked about last night. “But I do need to go home. Mother is no doubt waiting with a horde of maids to make me presentable.”

You frown to yourself imagining next few hours where you would be slathered in creams, your hair tugged and swept up over your head, your body scrubbed almost painfully, and finally the corset that would cut off your circulation and make it impossible to breathe.

You wondered if any other girls your age were subject to such torture.

“Just admit it y/n, you find Howard as boring as a sack of flour.”

“He’s from a good family, he’s a gentleman. My mother would be pleased-“ You start to say, defending Howard even though you didn’t like him as much as you liked Ben.

“Your mother would be pleased with a cactus as long as it meant getting you out of her sight.” Ben snaps back.

His sharp words sting against your skin and you drop your eyes to the paper again, welcoming the silence that follows. Because he was right.

Your mother thought you were a disappointment. She had started comparing you to your sister-in-law who was flawless, effortlessly beautiful and graceful. Your mother voiced her disapproval many ways with disapproving looks, snide comments on what you wore, how you looked... It wasn’t for lack of trying. You did whatever she asked but each time it was never good enough for her. You weren’t enough. And it was something you kept close to your heart. Ben knew that better than anyone.

That’s why his words hurt so much.

“Sweetheart I’m sorry-“

“It’s okay.” The tears that burn in your eyes smear the image of the page in your lap.

“Y/n please look at me.”

You don’t raise your head. “I should go. She’ll be mad if I’m late-“ You begin to put away your things.

Ben’s fingertips come to your chin, tilting it back to look at him once more. He looks sorry. His green eyes are paler now, like clover, wide and open, his mouth pulled down into an apologetic frown.

“Please don’t go. I’m sorry. Just stay a little longer.”

You sit there for a moment, his hand cupping your cheek and as a tear falls Ben brushes it away with his thumb. The gesture is gentle and surprising. Ben tolerated the occasional hug, but this was more intimate. It made your breath catch.

“Okay.” You whisper.

Ben relaxes and drops his hand from your face, but he’s still watching you. You know he’s trying to think of something to say to make you feel better, but when he can’t come up with anything, he reaches over and plucks another flower from the bush on his left, before stuffing it in his front jacket pocket.

It enough to make you smile and this time he returns it, understanding that he's been forgiven. You allow the warmth of his gaze seep into your skin and you bask in the warm glow of his smile.

***********************

Thank you so much for reading! If you'd like to be added to my taglist for this series, let me know :)

Taglist: @roseblue373 @anundyingfidelity @cheynovak

#jensen ackles soldier boy #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #soldier boy x female reader #the boys fanfic #the boys #soldier boy #soldier boy fanfiction #the boys amazon #jensen ackles #soldier boy/ben #soldier boy fic #the boys series #the boys season 3

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ereardon · 9 months

Text

Before I Knew sneak peek

A Jake Seresin pregnancy fic

“Ducky,” he said, dropping your hands. The familiar nickname on Bob's tongue brought forward a flood of memories: spring weekends flying kites in the nearby park, sitting on the back of a tandem bike with Bob on a trip to Florida to visit your grandparents, the fort the two of you made the one time it snowed two feet in Tennessee in under a day in March. “This is my squad. Guys, meet my sister, Y/N.”

You tore your gaze from Bob, looking over at the table he was gesturing to, a smile plastered on your face. A beautiful brunette with pearly white teeth and a tight bun was on the far left. That was Phoenix. You had received a handful of letters from Bob talking about her. Next to Phoenix was a handsome, bulky man with a mustache in a plain blue t-shirt. Wow, he was gorgeous.

Your eyes shifted over one more, breath halting in your throat as your gaze slowly crept up. First you spotted the dog tags. Eerily familiar, but then again, a lot of military guys wore dog tags, right?

Then the chin. Ridiculously cut jaw, slight bifurcated butt chin that you had found weirdly adorable two nights before. Plump, pink lips, puckered up in a grin. You felt your heart sink. There was only one thing left. You raised your eyes to his. Clear, seafoam green. An ocean in two small orbs. He smiled as you screamed internally.

Bob’s voice drew you out of your coma. “That’s Bradley.” The mustache man waved a hand. “And Jake Seresin. Hangman.”

Jake. Your stomach did a sommersalt.

Last time you had seen him, you had been teetering on the edge of drunk, standing outside of the bar with one hand on the railing, the salty ocean wind licking at the sweat on your collarbone, flicking the ends of your hair up against your chin.

The next moment, his tongue was on your throat, in your mouth, fingers in your hair, pressing your body against the railing of the deck as you whimpered into his lips.

You had crept out of bed before he woke up. Just a gorgeous, tan, muscular back sticking out beneath crisp white sheets as you tugged on your short dress and called an Uber. You had expected to never see him again.

And here he was, smirking at you as your brother’s gaze narrowed.

You had fucked up. Correction. You had fucked Jake Seresin. And that was a major fuck up.

[First chapter now live]

Tagging people who may be interested:

@blue-aconite @wkndwlff @joaquinwhorres @clancycucumber230 @djs8891 @seresinslady @dempy @dizzybee03 @bobfloydsbabe @mamachasesmayhem @mandylove1000 @katiedid-3 @na-ta-sh-aa @shanimallina87 @mycobrakai1972 @myfaveficrecs @yanna-banana

#jake hangman fic #top gun fanfiction #jake seresin #top gun imagine #bob floyd fanfiction #jake hangman x you #hangman fanfiction #jake hangman imagine #bob floyd x female reader #robert bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x y/n #bob floyd x reader #jake seresin x y/n #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x reader #pregnancy #pregnancy fic

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yesterdays-xkcd · 10 days

Text

Interestingly, on a true vertical log plot, I think the Eiffel Tower's sides would really be straight lines.

Height [Explained]

Transcript

Caption: Top of observable universe.

[Black Hat is standing on top, throwing a black kitty down.] Black Cat: Mrowl!

[Map of the universe from observable universe to Earth. Each area of item is labeled. Labels left to right, up to down:]

(46 billion light years up) Hubble Deep Field Objects One billion light years: Great Attractor. Antennae Galaxies (colliding). Andromeda.

Holy crap lots of space.

One million light years: Magellanic Clouds. Edge of galaxy. Galactic center. Crab Nebula. Orion Nebula. Horsehead Nebula. Romulan neutral zone. The Pleiades, duh!. Rigel. Betelgeuse. Ford Prefect.

[Three arrows are pointing up above three lines labelled “expanding shell of radio transmissions”.] Edge of federation sector 0-0-1.

Pollux. Arcturus. Missing WMDs. Sirius. Barnard's Star. Alpha Centauri.

One parsec:

One light year: Oort Cloud (?). Bupkis. Comet which will destroy Earth in late 2063. Pioneer 10. Voyager I. Eris (All hail Discordia!). Pluto. (Not a planet. Neener neener.) Neptune. Uranus. Saturn. [Two arrows labelled “life” point to two moons, one next to Saturn and the other Jupiter.] Jupiter. Asteroids. Mars. Venus. Sun. Mercury. Spaceship Planet Express: Hey, a heaping bowl of salt! Spaceship Discovery One: Open the fridge door, Hal. Moon. Human altitude record (Apollo 13). 2nd place: Snoop Dogg. Space elevator - One of these days, promise! Geosynchronous Orbit. GPS satellites. Lunar lander: In retrospect, they shouldn't have sent a poet. I have no idea how to land. International Space Station. Space junk.

Official edge of space (100 km): Meteors.

1/10 ATM: High altitude balloons. Airliners. Shuttle Columbia lost.

1/2 ATM: Cory Doctrow [In an hot air balloon]. Everest. Helicopters (6000 m). Cueball: Woo Python!

[A vertical scale is drawn along the right side of the picture, starting at 1 km and getting progressively smaller and smaller.]

1 km. 800 m: Burj Dubai (~800 m). 500. 400. Eiffel Tower (325 m). 200. Kites. Great Pyramid (140 m). Pop fly. Redwood (115 m).

100m. Oak (20 m). A person in the oak: Hey squirrels! Tallest stilts. Brachiosaur (13 m). Giraffe (8 m).

[Megan and Cueball holding the kite are labeled:] Folks.

Title: The observable universe, from top to bottom: on a log scale.

Caption: Sizes are not to scale, but heights above the Earth's surface are accurate on a log scale. (That is, each step up is double the height.)

#xkcd #xkcd 482 #height #2000s #2008

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crusty-chronicles · 7 months

Text

Forgiveness and Acceptance

Ch 3: Changes

MASTERLIST

Synopsis: Despite what it may seem, Kite still struggles with his chimera body. A constant internal struggle between his rational thoughts and new instincts.

NSFW Minors DNI

Warnings: Intimacy, mentions of nudity, mentions of breeding

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

Kite awoke engulfed in a familiar warmth. A feeling that was unmistakeably you. Limbs tangled in a comfortable mess, beckoning him back into sleep. But he couldn't. Not today. Unfortunately, you both had somewhere to be. So he begrudgingly opened his eyes. Your loving smile being the first thing he saw today. One he'd be missing for the next week.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty.” You cooed.

Without fail, his face reddened at your teasing. He really should have been used to it by now. But you had a habit of getting under his skin in the best way possible. No matter how much time had passed, your words would always have an effect on him.

“How many of those do you have?” He asked, snuggling deeper into the crook of your neck.

“Endless. Maybe if you weren't so pretty I'd stop calling you princess.”

He could practically hear the smirk in your voice.

“Mhmm. Sure.”

And he was right, your cheeky grin on full display as you caught the sight of red. Very much enjoying his flustered state. The two of you content to bask in the other's warmth for as long as possible.

It was another five minutes before Kite pulled away from you enough to meet your gaze. Staring into your sleepy eyes that weren't as burdened with dark circles as they once were. That never seemed to carry the same heaviness from before. You'd come so far since then. Since the Chimera Ant Incident. Which brought him back to what he'd dreamt of last night.

The realization that he hurt you.

That you let him hurt you.

He never really asked you about what happened, or rather, you didn't like talking about it. There were bits and pieces he gathered from Ging and the boys. But other than that, he didn't pry. Maybe if he had, he wouldn't have been so caught off guard by what he did. As repulsed.

Yet despite that, you were still here next to him. Offering up your comfort and love in exchange for his. Joined together so intimately, he was hesitant to move. To disrupt this peaceful morning. It wouldn't have been fair to worry you before you left. But it seems even without your nen, you could still read him like a book. Your expression shifting into one of concern.

“About last night…” you started. Already sensing his rising discomfort.

“We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. But I'd like to know at least how you're feeling.”

Because you knew what it was like to startle awake from a night terror. Forced to relive something you just couldn't escape. And you knew what it was like not wanting to talk about it. Not wanting to relive the dream a second time. If he didn't want to tell you what was bothering him, that's okay. You just needed to be sure he was fine. That whatever it was he dreamt about couldn't hurt him.

But Kite was never the type to hide things from you. He was more open than you could ever hope to be.

“... You let yourself get hurt by me. During the ant incident.” He said after a while.

He didn't have to explain for you to know what he was talking about. The hits from when he was a puppet under Pitou’s control. The swelling and bruising that came after. Only for the process to repeat itself the next day. And the next day. Until the dreadful extermination mission from the hunter association. It was the only time he'd ever actually hurt you.

But it wasn't really him was it?

It was Pitou's nen controlling him. And you could never blame him for that. It was your decision to visit him everyday. Your decision to step in front of Gon. Your choice to give whatever negative emotions he may have been harboring an outlet. Back then, you'd been able to feel the pent up malice.

“You weren't yourself.” You rebuttabled.

You hadn't been sure he was even in there. But you remember what you told the boys that day. The first time you'd seen his stitched up state.

‘Being an adult is hard. I'm supposed to stay strong and tell you everything's gonna be okay. But how can I reassure you when I don't even believe that.’

You didn't know if he'd ever come back to you. If the consequences of your cowardness could be reversed. So you'd taken every hit, not knowing any other way to make it up to him when you weren't even sure he was alive.

“But I still hit you.” Kite argued.

“I've been hit by a lot of people. I'm used to it. It wasn't your fault anyways. It was mine.” Your fault for running away and letting him get caught up in the aftermath.

You'd told him about your upbringing. How your clan would punish you for making a single mistake. How they always told you that you weren't good enough.

An old habit of blaming yourself for the abuse inflicted on you.

It was something you were working on. Something he was trying to help you through. Which is why he refused to continue to let you think that way. You shouldn't have to be used to being hit, regardless of if you were a fighter. You shouldn't blame yourself for everything that's happened.

“It wasn't your fault. What happened was not your fault.” He moved to cup your cheek with as much softness as he could muster. Making sure your eyes were focused on his.

Yet still you avoided his gaze. As if you felt guilty. Now he had to know-needed to know just what the hell was going through your head.

“Why did you let me hit you? Did you think of it as a way for me to get even for what happened?”

He hit the nail right on the head. And for a brief moment, you regretted opening your mouth this morning. You still weren't used to being open when it came to bad memories. They were always harder to talk about. But you owed Kite that much. To reassure him that what happened was not his fault.

You would have done it all over again if it meant he was still here.

“...I thought it was the least I could do.” You said. An honest answer. He was getting better at drawing those out from you. But it only further worried him.

“I wasn't in there. Do you think if I was, I would have still lunged for you?”

Your hesitance to speak had been answer enough for him.

“I don't know.” You responded, almost looking ashamed.

You really thought he had been hitting you on purpose? That it was his choice. Seeing it happen through his own eyes was enough to send him spiraling. But to willingly hurt you…He would never be able to forgive himself. For you to believe he ever hated you at some point, he must've been doing a terrible job of showing you the exact opposite. That he loved you more than he could put into words.

But he would show you. He had the rest of his life to prove it to you over and over again.

“I'm sorry.” He leaned up and pressed his forehead to yours.

“Why are you apologizing?” You asked.

“Because you mean everything to me. And I don't want you to think you deserve anything less than.”

You didn't even realize you were crying until he swiped away one of your tears with his thumb. Your heart only swelling from the gesture. What did you ever do to deserve this man? Someone who only ever saw the best in you. Who had once again convinced you there was a chance he revered you just as much as you did him.

“I was supposed to be the one comforting you today. But here I am blubbering like a baby.” You said with a sad smile.

Crying had been another thing. You never liked crying in front of others. Another part of yourself you hid away, but never from him. Kite didn't like seeing you cry either. But he understood it was a part of your healing. Being able to just feel instead of bottling it up.

That didn't mean he was just gonna sit by and do nothing when your thoughts were so self destructive.

“You've done more than enough.” He assured.

Because you'd brought him back at the risk of losing everything. Your life, your relationship with the boys, your nen. One of which you'd lost permanently. Or so it seemed.

He pressed his lips softly to yours.

“I love you.”

And once again you were struggling with those three little words. So close yet so out of reach. You just couldn't say them, but you could still tell him how you felt.

“Kite, you are so important to me. I'd do anything for you.” Anything to make him happy.

And for some reason, those words didn't sit right with him. A foreboding feeling settling in his stomach. But he brushed it off, about to offer more words of comfort before the sound of an alarm went off. Your peaceful morning had come to an end.

You let out a sigh before speaking.

“We gotta get going.”

“You go on ahead and get ready first,” Kite encouraged.

He placed a hand on your hip. Tracing little circles with his thumb on your thigh as he finally pulled out. Mourning the loss of your warmth. He looked back up to make sure you weren't in any pain, but he caught sight of a dark bruise on your neck.

“Does that hurt?” He asked, remembering he'd bitten you last night in his haste to feel your comfort.

You reached up and skimmed the mark with your fingers, wincing slightly at the feeling.

“It feels a little sore but other than that, no.”

Before he could question you further, you'd gotten up. Placing a kiss on the tip of his nose and quickly making your way to the bathroom. The sound of the shower turning on signaled the beginning of what would be a long week.

Your doctor’s appointment was something he couldn't help but dread. A day to get there. Two days of tests. A day to get results. And one for rest. Absolute hell for him. He understood that this was important to you. Why it mattered so much.

But you'd been trying for over a year to get your nen back with no luck.

Would it really be so bad to accept it was lost forever now? After so much time had passed? It's not like anybody would think any less of you. You'd proved yourself a thousand times over during the extermination mission. Everyone did. Then there was the question of why you were trying so hard to get your abilities back.

A goal.

Something to chase after.

But what would you do once you regained your nen?

Would you become a hunter? No. Despite all that's happened, you still despised the association with everything in you. Would you follow around the boys again? It didn't seem likely. You wanted to give them space. Allow them to enjoy being kids while they still could. Would you end up doing your own thing? Find a passion completely separate from his that kept you away?

Or would you stay with him regardless?

More than anything he hoped the latter was true. That you two would continue to share this life together. And maybe it was selfish of him to think that way. To want you by his side to quell his own anxieties of losing you.

There was no denying you were strong. Managing to go head to head against Killua's brother even without your nen. But despite your physical prowess, an experienced nen user would always have an edge against you. One misstep and you'd be done. It should have pointed to him vying for you to get your nen back. So he wouldn't have to worry about you getting hurt.

Yet, the exact opposite was what he felt was best. You weren't a fighter. For as long as he's known you, you tried your best to avoid combat. And after everything that's happened, you’d never fight again. You deserved to live a normal life away from monsters and bloodshed. To stop looking over your shoulders in fear.

You were getting better. You seemed happier. Your crooked smile had never been as bright as it was now. If you got your nen back, he had a feeling it would all be gone. That you'd once again hold the weight of the world on your shoulders.

But something was driving you desperately to regain your nen. Something he couldn't help but connect back to your earlier words. ‘I’d do anything for you.’

It wasn't like you were burdening him without your abilities. The kids certainly didn't mind you being normal. And none of your friends thought differently of you. So what was it? Why did it feel like you weren't doing this for yourself? Whatever it was, he just hoped you'd eventually tell him. He'd be able to help you better that way.

For now, he should be focusing on the present. You two were currently looking into getting a house. All odds pointing towards a future with both of you in it. A place to relax after traveling around for months. A home to go to instead of another hotel until the next expedition.

Who knows, maybe you'd choose to stay there instead of following him around. He could almost see it. You lounging about, waking up at an ungodly hour now that you didn't have a deadline to meet. Carrying around comforters with you to nap where you pleased. Unawares he'd just gotten back after being gone for months.

But that was the root of the issue wasn't it? Being away from you for so long. He couldn't imagine leaving you by yourself for a few months, let alone with a child.

Wait.

Child?

Immediately his face turned a bright red. Internally cursing himself out for thinking such a thing. Trying to ignore the way something stirred within him. The thought of you carrying around his child. Getting to create a family with you.

Then again, hadn't you created one already? The kids you'd gone through hell and back for. His team who he'd looked after for years. Then there was the extermination team. Your friends. And Ging. Someone who he'd never be able to pay back for saving you. For giving you a reason to keep going when you thought you'd lost everything.

They were family, yes…But what Kite had in mind felt a little more special. A life created by the two of you. A family stemming from the best parts of you and him. He mentally scolded himself for not even considering how you felt.

Would you want to have kids with him?

You'd talked about it maybe twice. And both times you'd agreed it was too soon. That both of you weren't ready yet.

But you did want them, a part of himself immensely satisfied with the fact. And once again, Kite had to reprimand himself.

What the hell was wrong with him?

He cursed the beastly instincts inside him daily. Fighting with himself everytime the need to keep you away from other men would arise. Even though he knew you didn't have a specific preference for partners.

The word possessive flashing through his mind.

Though territorial would have been a better descriptor.

Maybe that was why he couldn't stop himself from marking you every time you made love. A way to show that you were his and his only. Had he self-consciously bitten you yesterday because of that? A reminder to whoever saw you during the week?

Chimera Ants only had one purpose. To serve their queen and subsequent king. And even though his mind was human, his memories were human. His body was not. No matter what it looked like.

Thus the struggle to keep his new instincts at bay. The ones that wanted to cater to your every need. The ones that yearned to keep you in a safe place. To have you right next to him at all times. The ones that demanded he breed you.

As cliche and cheesy as it sounded, you were his queen.

His body refusing to accept you as anything less. His mind arguing with the extreme declaration.

What you were was his lover.

And if he got lucky enough one day, his wife.

‘Mate.’

‘His mate.’ the little voice in his head argued.

And there it went again. Fighting with himself over something so stupid. He hated these new instincts. He hated the way they prevented him from thinking with a clear head. It always seemed to get worse when you were about to leave. The panic of not having your scent around him. Of not being able to sleep without you.

Then it'd quiet down after a few days, only to come back upon seeing you again. And once his scent was back on you, it'd slink back down until the next three months when you'd have another appointment.

He wondered if any of the other ants went through this. Then again, he was the only one with a lover. They probably wouldn't be of any help. He was just thankful he never had a heat.

Now that would simply be too much. He'd die of embarrassment. He was ashamed of himself enough as it was without a heat.

The sound of your humming steadily reached his ears, effectively snapping him from his thoughts. Another one of the things that would be missing. He remembered you used to be embarrassed about singing in the shower. Always going eerily quiet when you'd hear him moving about in another room. Truthfully, he liked your voice. It had a certain calming effect that just fit with the old songs you chose. It helped with the nightmares. Both yours and his.

He had to reassure you over and over again that he didn't mind. And while you got bolder over time, you no where near belting out lyrics the way you did when you thought he wasn't there. But like all things, you were getting there little by little.

Which reminded him, one of these days he had to take you out dancing. It was another coping method for you. Something else precious from your childhood that you liked to indulge in. That let you go back to the simplest of times. To two people who you remember treating you with kindness back then.

He knew it was the small gestures that stuck with you the most.

He glanced over to the small alarm clock and figured it was time for him to get up. No use stalling. He could hear you more clearly as he approached the bathroom. Hand hovering above the door knob before he entered. Immediately he was engulfed in a puff of steam. You always liked your showers scorching hot to make up for the cold ones you endured as a kid.

Inversely, Kite always liked his cold.

It didn't mean he would turn a hot one down to be with you. You'd showered together frequently enough that he'd bear the heat if you bore the cold. It was most definitely a first for him during the beginning of your relationship. He was embarrassed to see your most intimate parts in a setting that was almost domestic. Being completely vulnerable and viewing your body in a way that wasn't sensual. Just you. Just Him.

It was a different intimacy from the one you shared in the bedroom. Softer. He loved you and everything you were, and you loved him.

He spotted the pile of clothes on the floor and picked up your shirt. It would get him by the five days you were gone. Kite never could sleep properly without you. Your scent. And he knew it was the exact same for you.

“Hey! Make sure to give me your hat before we leave,” you called out from over the curtain.

You didn't have to ask for him to already have it out for you. You always took either his old blue one or his dark red when you left. This time, it'd be the red one.

“I swear, sometimes you love snuggling that thing more than me.” He teased.

“If you get to keep my shirt, I get to keep your hat. Besides, it smells the most like you anyways.”

He'd been told his old hat had comforted you during the ant incident. Or rather, his scent still on it. It made sense why that was the thing you chose to take with you. He couldn't help but find it endearing.

“You almost done in there?” He asked.

“Just about.” You responded before peaking your head out of the side of the shower curtain.

“Unless you wanted to join me?” You gave a playful waggle of your eyebrows, offering up more space next to you.

Always a tease. Kite shook his head in amusement before responding.

“Sure. As long as you lower the temperature a bit. I'd rather not explain why I have third degree burns to my team.”

“Coward.” Nevertheless, you reduced the heat.

Kite's clothes soon joined yours on the floor. He caught sight of himself in the mirror and froze. It'd taken him a long time to get used to his reflection. To accept this was really him now. Although the changes had been minor, they'd been a lot to take in.

He didn't carry any of the scars his past body had. Only the memories of where the marks should've been. The agility that came with his lean build had been replaced with an awkward clumsiness due to the increase in muscle. His height was monstrous, and the addition of a rat tail didn't help. More often than not, he found himself tucking it away from sight. His hair might've been the only thing he didn't mind as much as the others. It didn't reach the back of his knees as it once did, but it was still decently long. The color he didn't care much for. Although, half the time he still expected to see silver instead of red.

The only thing that had stayed the same were his eyes.

Wondering what was taking your partner so long, you once again peaked out. Noticing the blanked out expression on his face as he stared at his reflection. Kite, as calm and collected as he was, still had his moments where the weight of what happened hit him. This was one of those moments.

Where the differences bordered on insecurities.

So you did the only thing you thought would help. Distract him from whatever was plaguing his mind. Soothe the doubts.

“Hey handsome. Might wanna join me before I get all pruny.” You called out.

Kite jumped at the sound of your voice. Turning to you before his eyes softened. They always did when he was looking at you.

“You've still got some suds in your hair love.” He pointed out.

You jumped back in the shower with an offended gasp. Listening to the small laugh Kite gave as he finally made his way over.

“I do not! You're just trying to gaslight me!”

The curtain pulled back for a brief moment. You could feel Kite behind you before it closed once more.

“Did Killua teach you that one?” He asked. Cupping his hands under the stream and pouring the water on your head.

“I can neither confirm nor deny that statement.” You crossed your arms, but there was no protest to his actions.

So he continued washing away the suds on your scalp. Angling your head back against him.

“Hold still for a second.” He instructed.

You leaned your full weight on him as a show of your trust. Your limpness an indicator that you were comfortable with whatever was happening around you. He ran his fingers through your hair a few times to make sure there was no more soap.

“There. All rinsed off.”

He made sure to steal a kiss from you before he righted you up. You returned it and ushered him to switch places. The water hitting him directly now.

“Your turn. Let me get all of you.”

You started off with his body first, lathering enough of the soap to get started. If he ever expected your hands to feel silky soft, he would've been dead wrong. They were probably more calloused than his. Never knowing a day of rest until you were 17. But it wasn't the texture of your hands that put him at ease. It was the gentleness in which you touched him.

Taking away any knots in his shoulders and lightly scrubbing him down. Had he gotten up sooner, your body would have received the same treatment. He took over when you got lower, not wanting to turn a moment of domesticity into something steamy.

When he was rinsed off, you moved to his hair. If he had it his way, he'd let you wash it everyday. You probably took better care of it than he did. Massaging in shampoo and conditioner without getting any tangles. Your fingers combing through in a way that almost had him purring. Moving his head down so you could reach properly. He felt completely at bliss. One of your ways of showing your love even without saying it.

Your morning had started off slower than you would've liked, but you couldn't say you regretted spending a few minutes more with your lover. You both got dressed quickly. Only forty minutes left before your flight. After double checking your suitcase one more time, you snagged Kite's red hat and made your way towards the door.

But he had other plans for your usual routine. Hand placed on yours a top the door knob, effectively stopping your movements.

“Let me at least take you to the airport? I wanna see you off.” Something pleading in his tone.

He never seemed to have the right opportunity to go with you to your appointment. Always too busy with work. It should've come as no shock. Being a pro hunter meant you'd always be on the move. Never time to stop in one place for very long. Already moving onto the next project by the time you returned. It was exhausting, but he loved his job.

However, he found he loved you even more. If it weren't for your insistence that he stay, he would've booked a flight with you in a heartbeat. So if he couldn't come with you, he at least wanted to spend what time he could together. Just knowing you'd made it to your flight would be enough.

“I don't want you to be late.” You responded. The last thing you wanted for Kite to ditch his job for you. You weren't nearly as important.

But he had this habit of always knowing what to say to reassure you.

“I won't. I promise I won't be late to the meeting point. And even if I was, it'd be worth it.”

—--------------------

Surprisingly, you made it with 15 minutes to spare. It gave enough time for both of you to eat something light for breakfast while you waited. A pair of blueberry muffins (because it was never too early for something sweet according to you) and coffee. Yours iced and his hot. You'd scrunched up your face as he took a sip of his.

“I still can't believe you like your coffee black. Your taste buds must be dead.”

He playfully nudged your shoulder at your comment.

“I still can't believe you like coffee. If it weren't for all the sweeteners you wouldn't touch it with a ten foot pole.”

“I like to have some flavor in my life thank you. Besides, cold coffee taste stronger than hot. I get a little more of a kick from it. One of these days I'll convert you.” You gave a fake glare before crossing your arms.

“Sugar isn't really flavor, hun. And I doubt the temperature makes much of a difference.”

“I wholeheartedly disagree. You just don't like to have fun.”

Fun, huh? Not too long ago you rarely messed around. Now you were joking and laughing so freely, it was like you were a different person. Your guarded exterior no longer there. It felt lifetimes away from who'd you become.

“You're starting to sound like Ging.” Kite teased.

You'd stuck out your tongue in response. Unawares to your partner leaning over and taking a sip from your drink. Looking down and catching him in the act right as he pulled away.

“You know, I think you might be onto something. It's not so bad.”

You gave an offended gasp and pulled the cup close to you. Your feigned glare becoming just a little more real.

“You’re lucky you’re pretty.” You grumbled. And as always, your banter was returned.

“I knew you were only with me for my good looks.”

“Sure. Totally not because of your kind heart. I mean, you're wearing the little friendship bracelet Gon gave you. That's totally not attractive to me.”

All at once his face flushed. You liked that he was attentive to the kids? Of course you did. They were practically your own. Still, it'd been unexpected to hear.

“Good to know,” he stammered out.

Your mind couldn't help but circle back to what he said about his appearance. Comparing it to the way he seemed to examine himself in the early morning. He looked like he had been dissociating. Spacing out at the man staring back at him with something that bordered on distaste.

“Do you ever miss your old body?” You asked. Your tone now serious.

Kite mulled over the question for a while before answering.

“Sometimes. I miss having more coordination in my body. I miss not having a stupid tail to worry about. I certainly miss not being labeled as a protected species…But I'm coming to terms with it. It's getting easier to deal with all these new instincts. Progress is progress. Why?”

You realized that wasn't exactly what you meant to ask. But it should've been a no brainer he preferred his human body over this.

“Sorry. I should've phrased that better. I mean, obviously you miss your old body. Who'd wanna be forced to be a chimera ant. I just meant, do you miss how you used to look?”

At that he quirked a brow. You sounded ashamed. Of what, he couldn't quite tell. Did he make it seem like he blamed you for his grievances? He was beyond grateful you'd brought him back. But why now were you asking these questions? Were you having second thoughts?

“I don't hate it. It's just surreal to see somebody else where my old reflection used to be. Sometimes I can't help but compare what's the same and what's different. I'm still recognizable with the changes, so they're not all that bad.”

His next question had caught you off guard.

“Do you miss the way I used to look?”

You stuttered your way through a response, not really knowing how to answer.

“No! I mean, not that I didn't like the way you look! But I don't mind you now. That's not to say I don't prefer the old you! I just-!” You were cut off by the sound of Kite's laughter. Your face burning impossibly hot.

“It's fine. I can always dye my hair back silver if it’s too much for you.”

You lightly slapped his arm.

“You ass… Don't you know I'd choose you no matter what?” You'd finally gotten the right words out. And just in time too.

“Now boarding Flight 87!”

You got up and turned to Kite.

“I'll see you in five days.”

He pulled you close in a tight embrace. Your arms wrapped around him in response.

“Stay safe. Call me when you get there, okay?” He reminded.

“Always. You be careful too. Let me know if something happens.”

He bumped his head lovingly against yours.

“Always.” and sealed the promise with a kiss. Pressing his lips softly to yours until you both ran out of air.

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

An: We are so back ✨💅

#hxh x reader #hunter x hunter x reader #hxh x y/n #hunter x hunter x y/n #hxh #hunter x hunter #x reader #kite x reader #kite smut #hxh kaito #chimera ant kite #kite hunter x hunter #hxh kite #afab reader #hxh au #hxh smut #chimera ant au #forgiveness and acceptance fic

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heli-writes · 1 year

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A marriage of convenience, part 3: something like family.

Pairing: Yoriichi x you

Summary: Yoriichi's friends think that Yoriichi is too lonely and needs a wife and family to take care of him. They propose a marriage of convenience to a woman who's in need of a husband. The arrangement of the marriage is simple: both parties live their lives as before, y/n takes care of Yoriichi as a wife and Yoriichi keeps unwanted men (and demons) away. Love is not required, friendship is appreciated. However, how detached can one be when living so close to each other?

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9

Series Masterlist

The day at the fair changed things around the cottage. (Y/s/n), who used to be quite wary of Yoriichi, starts seeking out his attention more and more. In his own way, he starts to ask Yoriichi to play with him. He kicks his ball in Yoriichi's direction or runs after him with his kite. Yoriichi is too kind to tell the boy no and always ends up joining the child in his games. (Y/n) watches this development with fondness in her heart. In this whole arrangement, she was worried for (y/s/n) the most. The boy has been through too much to worry about her and the strange man who suddenly lives with them. Though he understands more than he tends to let others see, (y/n) is sure of that. During the day, while (y/s/n) occupies Yoriichi's time, (y/n) gets work around the house done. When the sun sets, (y/n) calls both of them inside for dinner and they sit around the small table and share a meal. In these moments, the three of them seem to be something like a family. When the moon rises and it's time for Yoriichi to leave and do his duty, (y/n) suddenly feels heavy-hearted. She starts to worry about Yoriichi being all alone outside at night hunting demons. She starts to understand why his friends wanted him to get married. At least this way, someone can notice his absence in the morning.

She watches Yoriichi tuck his sword to his side yet another night. (Y/s/n) is already in bed. "Will you be home early tomorrow?", she asks, "I might need some help with the cart." Yoriichi internally stumbles over the word 'home'. Does (y/n) already consider him part of her home? "I don't know yet. I will have to travel far tonight. I am sent to a remote village where young men are disappearing. (Y/n) shifts awkwardly on her feet. "Sounds dangerous.", she notes. Yoriichi is unsure what to say to this. It is dangerous but he also knows what he is doing. "You'll take care, don't you?", (y/n) says softly. Yoriichi adverts his gaze. She's worried about him. "I'll be fine.", he says coldly and without looking at her. She shouldn't worry about him. It's not that kind of marriage. (Y/n) notices his change of attitude and quickly answers: "Of course. I'm going to bed. Good luck." As she hears Yoriichi leave, she feels a sting in her heart. It's clear Yoriichi tried to keep her at a distance. She's not sure why, however. Just because she doesn't want him to die or get hurt, this doesn't mean she's helplessly in love with the man.

Yoriichi ends up being late and (y/n) fixes the cart herself. When he's not back by sunrise, she leaves breakfast on the table for him and leaves the cottage with her son in tow. The sun stands high in the sky when Yoriichi returns to the empty cottage. He's absolutely spent. The walk has been farther than he anticipated and he dealt not only with one demon but three tonight. He's not surprised to see (y/n) and the boy gone. After he ate (y/n)'s breakfast, he takes a bath and falls into his futon. When (y/n) and her son return in the late afternoon, it's still quiet in the cottage. (Y/n) hushes her son outside so that he won't wake Yoriichi. After putting away some purchases, she enters the bedroom. Yoriichi lies on his side with one arm over the top of his head. The low sun shines through the window and onto his hair. (Y/n) looks at him for a while. The light of the sun makes his hair look redder than usual. His breathing is soft and regular. (Y/n) is actually not sure if she ever saw Yoriichi breathe in s different rhythm. He's very good-looking, she thinks to herself. It's surprising no other woman tried to woo him after his wife's death. Vultures don't tend to let the dust settle. (Y/n) knows that from experience. She leans against the door frame and starts thinking about her fiance. Sadness fills her heart and she needs to advert her gaze from Yoriichi.

Yoriichi wakes up to the clattering of dishes and pans. (Y/n) is cooking, he can smell it in the air. He slowly sits up and runs his hand through his disheveled hair. He hears smaller feet tapping the wooden floor in the hallway. "Sshh...", he hears (y/n) say, "Yoriichi is still asleep. You can help me if you want to, but don't bother him." Yoriichi slowly gets up and stretches. The sun hasn't set yet but is already disappearing behind the high trees that surround the cottage. Upon leaving the bedroom, (y/s/n) immediately is at his leg and presents him with a book. "Oh, I'm sorry Yoriichi. You have to tell him no if he's bothering you.", (y/n) says standing at the door to the living area. "It's alright.", Yoriichi says with a hoarse voice. "You must be thirsty. Wait a second.", (y/n) says while quickly turning away. He doesn't see the slight blush on her cheeks upon hearing his voice. (Y/n) can't help but find his grogginess attractive. She puts a cup of water for him on the table and continues cooking. After Yoriichi ignored (y/s/n) for the sake of the water, (y/s/n) runs up to his mother with his book. He pulls at her kimono to get her attention. (Y/n) sighs. "I can't read to you now. Come help me, you can stir the soup.", she says. (Y/s/n) stand on a stool taking the wooden spoon from (y/n)'s hand and starts stirring. Yoriichi watches them silently. (Y/n) is humming a song and gently swinging her hips as she forms meatballs. (Y/s/n) tries to imitate her by swinging his hips a little too hard and out of rhythm. Yoriichi has to smile at that. "What are you smiling at?", (y/n) says with a mischievous glint in her eyes, "Can you do it better than we?". Yoriichi clears his throat, embarrassed that he was caught staring. "I think you two are really good at his.", he says. "Ha, you heard that, (y/s/n)? We're great cooks and even greater dancers!", (y/n) exclaims. (Y/s/n) looks up to her in glee. (Y/n) grabs his little hands and starts swinging both of them in a silly rhythm. Her son starts hopping up and down to the soundless music. Yoriichi can't help but look at the scene fondly. Perhaps he was too harsh yesterday evening. He starts to care about the two of them. Why shouldn't (y/n) start caring about him too?

After dinner, (y/n) puts (y/s/n) to bed. Afterward, she joins Yoriichi outside on the porch with two cups of tea. "When did you come home? Must've been a long night considering how long you slept.", she asks Yoriichi. He hums in agreement. "It got late. Thank you for letting me sleep.", he says. "That's alright", she replies, "Though it was really hard to keep (y/s/n) busy.". Yoriichi takes a sip of his tea. "He's getting attached to you, you know. I'm sorry if that's not what you want from this.", (y/n) says with a wave of her hand. Yoriichi shrugs. "It's alright. I like the boy. He reminds me of me when I was young.", he says. "Really? I can't imagine that. You seem a lot calmer than him.", (y/n) smiles looking into her own cup. "I guess I was calmer. But I also didn't speak for a long time.", Yoriichi answers. (Y/n) looks up at him surprised. "Really? That's good to hear.", she says. Yoriichi turns to her and crooks his head a bit. "What do you mean?", he asks. "Well...", (y/n) starts, "You see, I'm worried about him not speaking. I thought it would just take some time for him to process things, but it's been three years and he still doesn't speak again." "What happened three years ago?", Yoriichi asks. (Y/n) takes a deep breath. "A demon.", she finally says, "You probably noticed (y/s/n) and I don't look much alike. It's because he's not mine. His parents were killed three years ago. His mother was a dear friend of mine, so I took him in." Yoriichi nods. He expected something like this. Things didn't add up with the (y/s/n)'s age and the death of her fiancée and he didn't take (y/n) for the type of woman to get herself pregnant elsewhere. "I'm sorry about that.", he says quietly. (Y/n) sighs again. "Well, you must see things like this all the time. To be honest, I don't know how you do it. I've only seen it once and it was more than enough for me.", she says. Yoriichi puts down his cup and looks into the night sky. "It's a sense of duty.", he finally responds. (Y/n) nods. "A dangerous sense, I guess.", she notes quietly. Yoriichi turns back to her. Maybe he should apologize to her for yesterday. "Look...", he begins, "I'm sorry about how I reacted yesterday. I understand why you're worried about my job." (Y/n) waves her hands in front of her to put him off. "Please, don't be sorry. I get it. This union was not tied to be worried... or be emotional about each other.", she waves him off. Yoriichi looks down. "Still," he says, "We live together. I suppose it's normal to look out for each other... or get attached in some way.". (Y/n) looks at him surprised. "I guess so.", she replies, "At least I can say that (y/s/n) and I are glad to have you around." Yoriichi nods at that. He also is glad to have the two around. While he wouldn't admit it in front of his friends, they were right about him being lonely. He enjoys (y/n)'s and her son's company. He suddenly feels pressure on his arm. (Y/n) has put her hand on his arm and gives it a soft squeeze. "Don't think about it too hard. You'll just get tangled up in unpleasant thoughts.", she states firmly. All Yoriichi can do is nod at that. "It's late. I should go to sleep. Don't stay up too long.". (Y/n) yawns as she stands up. Yoriichi bids her good night and stays behind in the night breeze, alone with his thoughts.

#demon slayer #demon slayer yoriichi #yoriichi x y/n #yoriichi tsugikuni #yoriichi x reader #yoriichi x you #kny yoriichi #kimetsu no yaiba #kny #kny x reader #kny x you #demon slayer imagines #yoriichi imagine

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afeelgoodblog · 2 years

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The Best News of Last Week 🐧

1. ‘Robin Hood’ energy strikers give free power to French schools, hospitals, low-income homes

Amid national strikes in the energy sector, some workers in France have found a novel way to protest. On Thursday, "Robin Hood" operations – unauthorised by the government – provided free gas and electricity to schools, universities, and low-income households throughout the country.

Among the facilities provided free energy were public sports facilities, daycare centers, public libraries, some small businesses and homes that had been cut off from power.

2. UK scientists discover method to reduce steelmaking’s CO2 emissions by 90%

Researchers from the University of Birmingham have developed an innovative method for existing furnaces that could reduce steelmaking’s CO2 emission by nearly 90%.

The iron and steel industry is a major cause of greenhouse gasses, accounting for 9% of global emissions. That’s because of the inherent carbon-intensive nature of steel production in blast furnaces, which currently represent the most-widely used practice.

3. Watch this cargo ship fly a giant kite to save fuel and cut emissions

The 2,700-square-foot parafoil is helping to tow the cargo ship and lessen the workload of the massive diesel engines — reducing the ship’s use of dirty fuel.

4. Scientists discover emperor penguin colony in Antarctica using satellite images

A newly discovered emperor penguin colony has been seen, using satellite images of one the most remote and inaccessible regions of Antarctica.

The colony, home to about 500 birds, makes a total of 66 known emperor penguin colonies around the coastline of Antarctica, half of which were discovered by space satellites. Emperor penguins are the only penguins that breed on sea ice, rather than land, and are located in areas that are very difficult to study because they are remote, inaccessible and can experience temperatures as low as −60C

Kowalski, analysis!

5. Dungeons & Dragons Scraps Plans to Update Its Open Game License

Wizards of the Coast, publisher of Dungeons & Dragons, announced yesterday that it will no longer be pursuing deauthorization of the Open Gaming License 1.0a. The deauthorization of the OGL 1.0a was a huge sticking point for fans and third-party publishers who made a living using a license that was granted nearly two decades ago.

6. Turning problem sea algae into a replacement for plastic

Excessive outbreaks of seaweed and microalgae are clogging up waters from the Caribbean to the Baltic. Now both are being harvested alongside farmed crops to create ingredients for cosmetics and food products.

7. German parliament officially commemorates LGBTQ victims of Nazi regime for first time.

The German parliament for the first time on Friday focused its annual Holocaust memorial commemorations on people persecuted and killed over their sexual or gender identity during World War II. Campaigners in Germany have worked for decades to establish an official ceremony to commemorate the LGBTQ victims persecuted under the Nazi regime.

“Today’s hour of remembrances focuses on a group of victims which had to fight for a long time to achieve recognition: people who were persecuted by the National Socialists because of their sexual orientation or their gender identity,” Baerbel Bas, president of the Bundestag lower house, said while opening a ceremony marking International Holocaust Remembrance Day, the anniversary of Auschwitz’s liberation.

- - -

That's it for this week. If you liked this post you can support this newsletter with a small kofi donation:

Buy me a coffee ❤️

Have a great week ahead :)

#best news of last week

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townofcadence · 5 months

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@gunslinginnhogtyin continued from here!

Quite used to cries for cover in the midst of a misadventure as an outlaw, the demon blooded cowboy ducks and rolls just in time to avoid being blasted at by a familiar enemy’s musket.

A red headed woman with a face adorned in scars; her bandana covers one eye and the grin she wears is full of sharp jagged teeth and malice. She looks as though she could be a pirate based off of the clothes she wears, an old school one at that.

“ARGH!!! Don’t warn him!” The tall woman growls. “It spoils the fun!” She stamps a heavy boot.

A look of shock crosses Butch’s features upon realizing just how close of a call it was and he quickly looks over at the one who had brought the danger to his attention before darting over in their direction.

“Thanks fer th’ warnin’! Now let’s get th’ hell outta here!” Exclaims the cowboy, grabbing Artairs wrist to tug them in the direction he’s running before letting go once he’s sure they’re following. The maniacal looking woman isn’t far behind them, taking shots as she gives chase, cackling all the while.

Butch reaches for either or the twin revolvers at his hips and removes them from their holsters, preparing his shots.

Artair isn't--- exactly sure where he is, or how he ended up here. Well-- the last part isn't all true, he had utilized his ley-line to get here. The thing had a propensity to spit him out anywhere at any time, too, so it wasn't such a shock he'd end up-- wherever this was. Such was the nature of magic and multiplanar hopping. He could get home too, if he found the right place, and that was something he had both gear to find and a natural sort of intuition for.

But even knowing how he'd ended up in this world, he'd hardly been here an hour, hardly had time to get his bearings, before things went sideways. And this situation had certainly thrown him for a loop. A surprise shoot-out wasn't on his bingo card for the day, but when the musket came out, it was kind of an imperative to adapt.

He's grateful at least that the guy (was that a tail he saw as he rolled?) wasn't blasted to oblivion with buckshot. He can feel the ill intentions oozing from the woman with the shark's grin, and while he isn't too sure what their beef with each other was, the last thing he'd do was let someone die to avoid getting involved.

"Pretty sure dying spoils a lot more things--." He can't help the quip at her-- almost childishly sadistic agitation. Before more can be said or done though, the cowboy guy is sprinting his way, zipping along the track of road towards the building he stood outside. A gloved hand snatches his wrist and Artair blinks, before the realization that yes actually, this is a much better idea than standing around and getting shot, manages to click in his brain. The first few steps he drags behind Butch like a burdensome kite, before his feet move as well, and the two begin to sprint. "R-right!"

Every time a shot goes off, Artair cringes internally, feeling his heart pounding in his ears. This lady was determined, and enjoying this way too much. They definitely needed to get the fuck out of here before she got lucky; her aim was reckless abandon right now, but if she settled and let herself take a few seconds to aim, they were definitely easy targets out in the open like this.

Then, the guy with the tail is reaching for his own guns, readying them to fire, and his brain kicks into overdrive. If the guy was shooting, he'd slow down-- he'd have to, to not run into something, and while twisting his body to look behind him and aim. If he sacrificed speed for aim, she could catch up if she was single-minded enough to ignore the shots, too.

Meanwhile, he didn't have a gun, nor was he inclined for one really. They were at least running away, which meant hitting them would be difficult-- but it wasn't impossible, and again, while aiming back might slow the pirate looking lady down if she was smart and allergic to bullets like at the very least he was, they would have to slow down to do the firing. If there was a chance she wouldn't care, she could close the distance in that time. So maybe the solution was--

"Really Sorry in advance for this, but keep shooting!" Artair called out, before his hands found the guy's waist quickly, hoisting him and throwing him over his shoulder. The arm he was holding him with wrapped around his midsection to keep him steady, braced against his back in a wide splay, while the other kept firm hold of his leg to even out some of the bouncing he'd do up there. He tore down the road all the faster, boots pounding and kicking up dust.

#ic artair #butch #gunslinginnhogtyin #rp #sorry for the length lol i hope this works!#if i need to rework anything lemme know #but i couldn't get the idea of artair scooping him up and running like a scooby doo gag out of my mind lol #and butch just shooting his pistols from where he's plopped on his shoulder XD

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tombiwidgeon · 2 years

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My desire need, no seriously, it's started to spill out my sides for a Trigun blog coincided on the same day with wondering what the fuck TOMBI meant XD

Tombi is the title of the opening theme song for Trigun Stampede, and as I sifted through the internet, I doubted the results I was seeing, unsure if my research skills were up to snuff.

UNTIL! I came across this description: In Japan, people call the Black Kite “Tobi” or “Tombi,” and neither is wrong.

The moment I saw the pic, I heard in my head the piercing bird cry from the song. EUREKA! What else could it be!? Mystery solved, right!? I think so. ^^

But I wanted to dig deeper. Why the Tombi? What could the symbolism be here?

On Bird Life International, I turned up an article about the Black Kite by none other than HIH Princess Takamado.

Notable quotes are as follows: "Reviled in Japanese culture and beyond for its scavenging behaviour, the Black Kite is a misunderstood raptor. Find out how its biggest flaws are actually its biggest advantages - both for its own survival, and ours."

"In Nihon Shoki, or the Chronicle of Japan, there is a story of a certain golden-colored Black Kite. It perched at the tip of Emperor Jinmu’s arrow, blinded the eyes of the enemies by emitting light and finally led the emperor to victory. Thus the Black Kite used to be a sacred bird, but has come to assume a negative image - probably since it became dependent on human lives. The bird is able to coexist with human beings only because it is too cautious to us to be tamed. This characteristic may give it even more of a negative image."

Sacred. Dependent. Reviled.

I can't help but connect this symbolism back to Vash through the song title. whispers Also the golden color. pats babygirl's head

Nai accuses him of becoming dependent on human lives in ep 11. And Vash himself repeated what he heard from Rem in ep 9, that plants can't survive without humans.

Look, am I super projecting? Maybe. But that's the whole point. My Trigun ferality has bubbled over to the point of escape XD

TL;DR Vash iz birb

#trigun stampede #vash #tombi #knives #in this essay i will #trigun stampede theme song #tombiwidgeon scribbles

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nia-academia · 8 months

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17.01.2024, Wednesday

Had my chemistry practicals, it went pretty well. I got asked proper viva questions and I answered them mostly correctly except maybe one question where I fumbled, so I might lose one mark there. Rest of the practical was fun and went smoothly. The only annoying part was that they kept us in school for an extra 2 hours for no good reason and then dispersed us. I was so bored but thankfully I have the best librarian whom I've known since 7th grade and he really likes me and gives me book recommendations and stuff so I went and asked him if i could borrow a book for 2 hours. It isn't allowed but he let me do it lol so I read the first part of Khaled Hosseini's 'The Kite Runner'. I've read it before but I was quite young then so I wanted to reread it just to feel something and I did. It was so hard for me to keep a poker face in a room full of 30 people while internally sobbing. I got home and took a nap which I always have to do on days where I have school. Woke up and studied, obviously not as much as my target because I spent half the day in school but the remaining time I was super productive so I'm happy with myself. Overall, a really nice day. Time Studied: 4.5 hours Subject: Mathematics Content: Relations and Functions, Inverse Trigonometric Functions

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alnair-jpg · 9 months

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Jan 14: international kite day

#riordanverse daily holidays #percy jackson #nico di angelo #jason grace #kite #percy jackon and the olympians #heroes of olympus

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baybtron · 9 months

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𝗹𝗶𝘃𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗿𝗶𝗹𝗹

fem!reader + itadori yuji

𝗱𝗲𝘀𝗰. i unwrap for you today, a fiction following the life of a college student who struggles with her drug addiction and depression. with no plans to fix herself she continues to create a ditch in which traps her in her studies and failing exams, until meeting a guy when working after a busy night shift. one that she didn’t know would change her life, drastically.

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀. college!au heavy!angst, violence, use of over the counter or prescription drugs/ medications, heavy!drugs use, panic attack, family issues mentioned?, depression, use of weapons, slow burn?, light!fluff, fem!reader.

𝘀𝗶𝗱𝗲 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲. this is my first fan fiction ever 1) and 2) there are many details from this in which i’ve taken from euphoria.

i started this story on Monday, December 18th at 11:46.

maybe if you weren’t such a nuisance, maybe just maybe life would be better. or at least that’s what you thought, but what about what other people think? maybe they feel the same way. but who knows? who’ll ever know what other people trul— interrupted by your thoughts is your professor calling out your name from the front of the class. you practically jump out of your seat, swallowing thickly as you adjust yourself before setting your eyes on the professor. “i apologize, professor.” you say quietly, almost quiet as a mouse as you lean into your hand. your elbow resting on the desk, legs crossed as you try to focus. the professor nods his head in response, “please do try to pay attention.” he speaks aloud as he clears his throat, turning back to the board as he resumes his lecture.

though, it was hard enough for you to pay attention. being sleep deprived, and also being as high as a kite in class was not a good idea. you chuckled quietly at your own internal thoughts as you stare blankly at the board. all these other students must have a clue on what’s going on, unlike you. some woman putting her intelligence to waste by being high all day, words your mother would say if she were here.

you didn’t have much friends— or any at all. you didn’t need any, and coming from a thought that wasn’t in a way your mother would want it to be, friends were a nuisance. much like you saw yourself as one.

you trotted through the hallways of the college campus, hands in the pockets of your sweatpants as you counted each one of your steps. staring into the distance as you could feel the world around you spin, flake, disappear and come back, dissolve and bounce. carrying your black book bag— yeah, you still carried a book bag around like it were your highschool days. who cares? certainly not you. it was actually a comfort, being reminded of those days of youth. being so lost as you wobbled through the empty halls, too busy to take notice in the guy who was heading right towards you.

there was a large thump, the guy dropped his phone. you on the other hand stumbled back quite a bit, as if you were knocked out of your thoughts and back into reality. so much for a fifty dollar cart. you sighed as you scratched the back of your head lightly. “sorry, i wasn’t paying attention.” you said as you looked up at the guy whom you had ran into. Yuji Itadori.

wow, what a perfect guy. not even saying this appearance wise, but he was just perfect. ideal. he was a student athlete, full paid off scholarship from three whole sports. he was tall, dirty pink hair, light brown eyes like the autumn leaves. he had perfect grades, a perfect life, a lot of friends— he was definitely going somewhere in the future. much unlike yourself.

“no, don’t worry. that was my fault.” he gave a cheeky grin, holding up his hand as he held himself accountable. he then kneeled down to grab his phone, standing up straight again as he looked towards your direction. “trust me though, the other guys here would’ve made it a bigger deal than it should’ve been.” he chuckled in thought before tilting his head. analyzing you and your physical appearance. “you used to be on the girls baseball team in high school, right?” he questioned curiously.

oh? that was new. he’d actually recognized you, catching your interest. you just nod your head slowly, though it was still a bit hard to respond with such a slow processing time. “yeah, i.. uh..” you stammer on your words for a second before pushing a strand of your hair behind your ear. to seem… more sober. “yeah, i was.” was. “i quit, after junior year though.” you gave a quick smile, before it going away. yuji nodded in understanding, “understandable.” he replied with a smile. “you look different, a good different though don’t get me wrong!” was he trying to keep this conversation up? he wasn’t doing good. “yeah— thanks.” you said bluntly. “i, uh.. really have to get going..” you gave a slightly empathetic chuckle, and a nervous smile. “i have an exam, i’ll catch up with you later though, yuji.” you said quickly, but before he could utter another sentence you’d already walked past him.

“y—“ …”yeah.” he said, looking back curiously as you walked off. “a good different.” he muttered under his breath before looking away, continuing his path as he placed his hands inside his pockets.

‘what a nuisance.’ you thought to yourself as you let out an annoyed huff.

later that night, you lie in bed, staring at your ceiling as puffs of smoke leave your mouth. your hair spread out on the white silk sheets, your arms and legs spread out as you stare at the euphoric glimmer of the sky. “i want to go to space.” you slurred out. staring into the ceiling of what was now the galaxy.

you wore a large white t- shirt, in which you had gotten from your older brother. before he had left, before the family split, before… before you were engrossed in drugs. funny, how then your mother would always say;

‘don’t get addicted to things you know you can’t go cold turkey on, pumpkin.’ pumpkin? she’d never say that. “maybe more of uh..” you muttered to yourself. “ ‘don’t do drugs, kid.’ “ you chuckled. “yeah, that sounds about right.” you said as you stared up at the galaxy patterned ceiling. which was all just a figment of your imagination of course, the floral designed underwear you wore designed in red rubbed against your skin. you lifted your arm, holding the blunt to your mouth as you inhaled.. andd exhaled. you closed your eyes. and the alarm rang. time for work.

that’s right, you take classes at 10 in the morning, leave at 12, go home for about 15 minutes.. get high and reminisce leave at 12:26 to go work, work until 2 in the morning.. go back to your apartment… and repeat.

you put on your uniform, tying your hair into a ponytail as you stared at yourself in the mirror. your eyes weren’t as bloodshot as they were in class. i mean? you didn’t need a cart for work, of course.

you thought that as you picked up your cart, stuffing it in your pocket. feeling rather prestigious knowing you can’t go anywhere without the feeling of euphoria following you around!

you sat on the edge of your bad as you put your shoes on, standing up before stretching as you let out a soft groan. “the cycle repeats.” you mutter to yourself as you grab your things and make your way out of your room, shutting the door behind you before walking towards the bathroom. sighing as you opened the mirror-cabinet to grab a small pill container. fluoxetine. didn’t help like weed carts did, but it helped enough to stay on it so when you say ‘i ran out of weed!’ you can just get more. except.. it’s given to you… and prescribed!

you closed the container before setting it back in the cabinet, closing the mirror door before switching off the light and walking out. yanking your keys from the holder as you unlocked and opened the door slowly, walking out as the burst of never-been-outside air hits you. shutting the door on your way out, you shift to your right on your heels. walking down the hallways, onto the elevator, through the lobby and outside to your car. as you got in you slumped in the drivers seat, i mean.. you could really crash into this whole complex right now and just… “boom” you emphasized to yourself before adjusting your body in the seat. setting your keys on the center console you push the start car engine button, buckle yourself in before letting the car heat up.

yeah, sure, your shift was going fine. you made it a few hours into it without bringing your cart into involvement. nor getting scolded for not cooperating by your manager. the loop was changing!

or so, you thought.

it was about 12:30 at night. tables had been cleaned, no customers until a group college students had walked in. in which you knew, and hated. though you put on a smile as you made your way to their table. “welcomeee, and what could i get for you lot.” you say in your best customer service voice.

the girl with a short black bob began to speak. “can i get—“ the girl was interrupted by a tall bulky guy with brown hair, and green eyes. he let out a loud obnoxious laugh as he analyzed you from top to bottom. “i know you.” his voice deep, husky. he tilted his head to the side.

“i, uh.. don’t think i recognize you.” well, how could you. on cloud 9 almost all the time, it’d be a surprise if you did remember.

the guy chuckled.

“i used ta’ be your dealer. till’ you basically said.. fuck yourself, and didn’t pay me.”

“i don’t recall.”

“ya’ know ya’ do.”

“maybe you’re mistaken.”

“you callin’ me dumb, bitch?”

“maybe i am.”

he chuckles. “yeah. maybe you are.” he says, his smile slowly fading. his face falling into a glare, though you knew you were fucked. you thought nothing of it.

and for the rest of that shift, you found yourself high in the clouds again. it helped with the anxiety.

about an hour later, you found yourself taking the trash out. couldn’t your colleagues have done this? or maybe something to help. you scoff. but you were feeling great, so who even cares? as long as you were feeling it so was everyone else. you pushed the back door open as you entered the slim and dark alleyway, the black trash bag in hand as you began to toss it in the trash. you stood there for a second before hearing a whistle in the distance.

“yo, bitch.” a voice you recognized called out, standing in the distance was the guy from earlier, his buddies.. and more buddies. you sighed as you held up your hands, “look.. i.. don’t want any problems.” your voice slurred slightly, but he was too angry to notice.

he trotted over, your reaction timing was moving in space time. so you had literally no time to react at all, as he punched you square in the face. you swear you could feel every bone in your face shift as you fell back, you let out a loud groan. looking up as your eyes widened slightly, but so gone only half of you didn’t realize what was going on.

a few more of his guys joined in, assaulting a cafe worker at 1 in the morning.. in the middle of a dark alleyway. how ironic. after a while you were sat against the brick wall, a cut on your swollen cheek, a bloody nose, and a pool of blood leaking out of your mouth.

“what a nuisance.” the guy spat at you. walking away with the rest of his buddies. your eyes followed him.

“where have i heard that before?” you muttered out as you leaned your head back against the wall. your hand slowly making its way into your pocket as you pulled out your cart. bringing it to your mouth.

inhale, exhale.

closing your eyes as your lungs inhaled the euphoric air.

“yo.”

a voice echoed through your head.

“yo!”

“yoooooooooo!”

your eyes shot opened, coming to your senses as your turn your head slightly to the side. your eyes adjusting to the darkness as you see a silhouette of a man kneeled down in front of you. at first you were able to recognize who it was. but your eyes did you justice, only to realize it was yuji. what a coincidence.

“sheesh.. what happened to you? you look beat up!” he says as he analyzes your face. grabbing your had slowly before helping you up. you couldn’t balance yourself though, so he held you on your feet by the waist. barely conscious as his voice began to fade from your ears. as he walked with you you were completely out of it. he didn’t know any info on you, where you live.. or anything really, except that you did girls baseball in high school, the same one he went to. and had a few conversations with you.. but did you even remember?

he looked concerned as he kept his focus on you, he had no choice but to take matters into his own hands.

you woke up hours later, laying on your back in bed. staring up at the bright ceiling as the sun trickled through the curtains. but this wasn’t… your bed. hell, this wasn’t even your room. “what the.. fuck..” you muttered confusingly as you sat up. wincing a bit in pain, bringing a hand to your face as you felt the bruise on your upper cheek.

the room had navy blue walls, consisted of posters of Jennifer Lawrence, random movies in which you’d never seen, video game consoles and a desk. yeah, this definitely wasn’t your room.

“you’re awake.” your head almost snapped as you turned to the right, facing where the voice had come from. standing in the doorway was yuji. you analyzed him as he stood in his sweatpants and Jennifer Lawrence shirt which had pictures of her face collaged onto it. you cringed. then looking back at his face. “oh, um.. hi. yeah.” you pulled your legs over the edge of the bed. only to realize you were in large red pajama pants, which weren’t yours. and your t shirt, which was under your work uniform before.. all this happened. “sorry, but what am i doing here?” you ask.

he leans against the doorframe. your figure was small in his pajama pants, he didn’t do anything weird or creepy he just wanted you to feel comfortable rather than sleeping in work pants that could wake you up with an ache in your legs. “you really don’t recall?” he asked curiously.

“yeah, i mean…—“ you shot a frown. “can you just..- enlighten me, einstein.” you mutter. he blinks, chuckling a bit. “okay, no need to get aggressive” he said as he made his way in, handing you strawberry yogurt with a spoon. sitting besides you on the bed as you reluctantly take it. “found you unconscious, all beat up in an alleyway. i woke you up for a second, but you just passed right back out.” he chuckled. “brought you to my place—“ he held up his hands. “and i swear on my life, didn’t do anything weird. i just changed you into my favorite pajama pants— so you weren’t uncomfortable. i didn’t sleep in the same bed as you either. slept on the couch.” he said, in full honestly before putting his hands back on his lap.

not that you cared, anyway. if he even did do anything, you were unconscious anyway. “oh, and i also put some stuff to help with the bruising and scratches on your face. i also stopped your lip from bleeding.. it was pretty busted.” he said with a grin. it made you raise a brow, this guy was mindful. and he was proud of himself for it… well, not that being careful and mindful was bad but— “never mind.” you muttered to yourself, he raised a brow. “what?” he said suddenly. you almost shot up, looking back at him. “oh.. err.. nothing, sorry.” you said awkwardly before shooting up again. “and— thanks.” you were a bit of an awkward and anxious person— when you weren’t under the influence of drugs, it’s clear that you didn’t care about your own wellbeing.

“well—“ you said suddenly before yuji spoke up again, “y’know..” he said quietly. you turned your head to face him again. and he faced you. “smokings not good for you.” he said with an almost innocent gaze, before standing up and stretching with a groan. “keep the pants, by the way.” he said with a pure smile. if you were high, you’d laugh. but you could just stare in silence as you slowly stood up. “my.. uh.. my car.” you said quietly. “hm?” he turned to you, “oh, i have your keys. car is still by the cafe. if you need me to help ya’ cause you’re a little woozy i can help.” he said softly as he pulled out your keys from his pocket and tossed them to you.

you caught them with both hands, cringing slightly at his offer. “er, no thanks.” you said quietly. “but thanks.” you said again.

when you two stood at his door you had all your things gathered, though you still had his pajama pants on. which he said was fine. “thank you, again, yuji.” you said, you were thankful. you really were. you just couldn’t express it. “no problem, bun.” he said with a smile. ‘bun’? you raised a brow. what an odd guy. as you were about to walk away he suddenly spoke again. “hey.. sorry.. but uh..” he stammered a bit. you turned around to face him, a bit curious as to what he had to say. “we should really.. like.. hang out more.” hang out? “and er—“ he scratched his head. “you really should quit the smoking thing.” the smoking term, again. that’s funny. you thought. but the thought of him wanting to hang out.. also sort of peaked your interest. “….okay.” you said softly. you hadn’t even realized you had uttered that out. but you did. you now had a friend. maybe?

later that day you lay in your own bed, you had taken a shower so your hair was still a bit damp. your body was curled up as you hugged a stuffed animal. you weren’t high.. not one bit. but you were thinking of the words of yuji, ‘you should really quit the smoking thing.’ you almost scoffed aloud as you thought of it again. “as if.” you muttered before your hand slid under your pillow, pulling her cart from under it.

a smirk on your face as you brought it up to your mouth, but stopped as it was only a few inches away.

‘you should really quit that smoking thing.’

“that smoking thing.” you snorted. pulling the cart back from her face, before tossing it the other way. “okay, yuji.” she muttered to herself.

‘ why does some silly boy have a huge influence on me? ‘

the next day you found yourself getting ready again for your classes, you missed the other day so there was an unexcused absence. you didn’t mind— well, usually you didn’t. but you found yourself today feeling a bit.. stressed maybe? not sure. it was an odd feeling.

you dressed yourself in a t shirt and jeans, adjusting how your clothes looked on your body you made your way into the bathroom. staring at yourself in the mirror for a few minutes.. that felt like.. forever.

“i look weird.”

you say quietly to yourself.

“i feel weird.”

you say in a louder voice, almost jumping out of your skin when you realize how loud you can be. as if you didn’t know you could be any louder.

you just sigh, feeling weird. but your body feels oddly warm. in a good way of course. you almost crack a smile as you open the mirror cabinet, pulling out the container of prescription pills. “these wouldn’t count.. right?” you stared at them. you then let out a heavy sigh before putting them back, closing the mirror and walking out of the bathroom.

“no.”

you grab your bags as you slightly adjust your hair.

what are you doing that for? you catch yourself, questioning in your head as to why you would even care about things such as your own hair. you take a minute to think before brushing it off. you grab your phone, shoving it into your pocket as you walk out of your room, making your way to the front door as you slip on your black uggs. you twist the doorknob after unlocking it, grabbing your keys before standing there for a second.

you’re forgetting something.

you stare at the doorknob as you dissociate from your body. “it’s probably nothing.” you mutter out before walking out the door, shutting the door behind you as make your way out.

unlike your job, the college campus was literally right next door! all you had to do was a little bit of walking. you’d be fine, right?

“you made it early for once.” your professor said with a small smile. you looked up from wherever you stood. staring for a second before shaking out of your thoughts. “yeah.. i uh.. i.. i made it.” you give a small yet awkward smile. “well, take a seat then.” he offers kindly as he turns around and starts cleaning off the board. you nod in response as you make your way to your seat in the front row, crossing your legs as you look around.

“you know…. in the beginning of the year, you were my best student.” the professor said. you looked over, he was a scrawny old man with long grey hairs. he seemed sweet too. “oh..” was all you could mutter out. wanting to tell him more for some reason, he just tilted his head. “what happened, young one?” he questioned curiously. though you could sense a feeling of warmth from him, “well..” just before you could speak, mote students came flooding in. interrupting your train of thought and voice, you just stopped. and looked away. though, your professor didn’t pry. he just nodded, and faced the other students.

after that class you found yourself, yet again walking through the hallways. you looked around as you sort of.. admired the campus view. “why’ve i never noticed this?” you muttered to yourself as you looked around. you nodded your head as if approving the beautiful scenery like never before. you chuckle to yourself before heading into the library, which you’ve never done before. quite odd of you.

pulling out your phone as you quietly walk in, the library filled with books of every genre. i mean, of course. it’s a library. you sit down at a nearby table, there were a few other people here as well. scattered around studying, or just reading.. but you didn’t mind. you felt a sense of peace? maybe. until you heard a familiar voice.

“yo!” a male voice said aloud, a few voices shushing him in the background. you looked up as you noticed him, a small smile appearing on your face, before fading as you noticed four other people following behind him. a rather tall male with black spiky hair, following by a shorter guy with white hair and a black mask. a girl with a short brown bob, and another with a long black high ponytail. they all waved and sat down.

“hey!” the female with the brown eyes and short brown hair said with a smile, “we’ve heard a lot about you, from yuji of course!” she said happily. the others agreeing. she held out her hand to shake yours as she leaned over the table. you looked down at her hand, hesitant. you looked back at her and then smiled. she awkwardly pulled her hand away. yuji smiled, “don’t be nervous. these are my friends, nobara, megumi, maki, and toge. wanted to introduce them to you.” he said happily.

“tuna.” the white haired male introduced as toge spoke. in which the girl, maki, with the long ponytail agreed with him. she pushed her glasses up slightly as she sat up. “you have an odd scent— don’t get me wrong, you look good but usually— and i see you around campus a lot.. usually you look out of it. are you feeling okay today?” she asked curiously.

“oh— i.. uh..” you stammered.

“maki! why would you ask such a question?” nobara butted in.

megumi peaked in from his phone. “maybe she’s just having a good day.” he mustered.

toge responded, “tuna mayo.” which you didn’t quite understand.

yuji tried to speak a few times but they continued to argue a bit more, they’d ask you questions but wouldn’t let you answer them. overwhelming you as they argued and argued and argued.

you felt yourself getting overwhelmed, your face felt like it was heated as your chest started to become heavy. your eyes darted from each of them before standing up quickly, gathering your things and walking off without say.

yuji noticed you before anyone, standing up as he watched you rush away. he shouted your name, “wait! please—“ he called after you. but you kept walking, you walked until you were off the campus. looking around as cars passed by, people laughed and chatted as you rushed through. the sidewalks seemed like they were always crowded.. but why now? why now when you felt the world caving in on you? why now when you felt as if you couldn’t breath.

why now when you felt isolated?

you rushed to the student apartment complex as your hand never left your chest, trying to catch your breath as if you just ran a mile. your eyes darted around making sure no one followed you, fumbling with the keys in your pocket as you made your way up the stairs. “mom.. mommy.” you muttered under your breath. as if she would even come. what was wrong with you?

finally opening the door you yanked your keys out of the lock and slammed the door behind you, not even locking it as you dropped your things. you rushed around, rummaging through your things.

“where is it?” you shouted, as if you were in fear. as if you were hiding from someone. you destroyed your room, the living room, your cabinets, drawers, until you moved onto your bed next. you grabbed your pillow and threw it as your breath scurried away from you. tears filling your eyes as you destroyed everything in your path… until you found it. your cart, you yanked it towards you quickly. putting it to your mouth.

inhale, exhale.

but you felt nothing.

you opened your eyes, your breathing getting increasingly quicker as you stood up. “what the fuck? what the fuck.. what the fuck!” you shouted as you pulled your hair. you kicked your dresser as you rushed around your room. god, you ran into the bathroom. you looked through everything.. to find nothing. nothing, nothing, nothing.

more tears left your eyes, you sat against the wall as you banged your head against it. thinking, thinking, thinking.

you had no money— you had nothing. you couldn’t just call up a dealer. you had nothing. nothing…

your eyes shot open. you stood up quickly, looking around as you swallowed thickly.

something.

you slowly made your way into your room, walking towards the closet as your hands shakily moved towards the knob. opening it slowly as you looked up at the upper shelf of your closet, there sat a gun. you stood on the tips of your toes grabbing it barely with the tips of your fingers as you brought it down.

you stared at it, taking a deep breath as you closed your eyes. shakily holding it up, you pointed it towards your head. closing your eyes slowly. god, you were so lost that you didn’t even notice..

“what the hell are you doing?” your eyes shot open. turning around quickly as you looked at the person.. yuji? your breath began to quicken again. and before you knew it you pointed the gun at him. “get out.” you muttered out.

his eyes widened. staring at you, his eyes darting from the gun and back to your face. he took a step back. “look— i.. i don’t know what happened out there, but i can help you. i really can.” he nodded his head as he took a step closer. “just.. please p—“ you interrupted him. aiming it straight at him, your tears drying. “don’t come any closer.” in which he nodded. “right..” he muttered as he held up his hands. “look, i promise. i can get you the help you need— anything just d..”

“stop acting like you’re my friend, yuji.”

“what?”

“i said: Stop acting like you’re my friend.”

“i.. i am your friend. you’re mine.”

“we were never friends! i never asked you to be my friend— i never did! you just decided to come into my life!”

“…”

“you ruined it all! i felt so good.. so relieved.. so alone. and you came and ruined it!”

“you were already ruining yourself!”

“—and how would you have even noticed? you’ve never even spoken to me.”

“but i have. don’t you remember?”

“what..?”

“of course you don’t. when i said i knew you from high school— i didn’t just know you as that big shot on the girls baseball team. we met at a party— and we talked.. and.. we danced. but of course—“

“you’re lying.”

“you would’ve remembered if you didn’t drown yourself in drugs every day and night.” he spat. your eyes widened. lowering the gun, only slightly.

that’s right.. that’s right.

the music was loud, you stood there in your short sparkly royal blue dress as you danced. your friends, people you didn’t know surrounded you as the music blasted. your friends giggled as you all danced, and shouted to communicate over the music.

you felt a bit dehydrated, as all you did was drink and dance. drink as in alcohol.

“i’m uh.. gonna go get a drink!” you shouted to your friends, in which they all nodded. as you pushed your way through the crowded room full of dancing high school students you walked over to the table full of foods, drinks, alcohol.. but you grabbed a water. twisting the top off as you brought it to your lips.

“fun party, right?” a male voice from behind you said. you turned around, a smile tugging at your lips. yuji itadori. “funny seeing you here.” you said with a soft chuckle. “but yeah, fun, i guess.” you replied.

“you look good!”

“what?”

“i said, you look good!”

you giggle to yourself as you tap your ear, the music blasting.

“i can’t hear you!”

yuji chuckled to himself before taking a few steps closer, “i said you look good!” he said with a smile as he stared at you.

you stared at him, a bit surprised by the compliment before smiling. “thank you, yuji.” you said softly, staring up at him.

the two standing in front of each other with soft gazes.

now stare at each other in fear, confusion, and despair.

“please.” yuji says again, “put the gun down.” his voice breaking a bit. and all you do is stare, the tears welling up in your eyes as you just collapse onto the floor. sobbing like a child. the gun beside you, but not in your possession.

and without hesitation itadori runs towards you, kneeling down as he helps you up slightly. “it’s okay, don’t cry, don’t cry.” his voice soft, he wipes your tears with care as you sit up on your knees. holding you in his arms as he sits on his own knees. “i’m here.” he says softly.

“i’m sorry, yuji.” you choke out as he wipes your tears, staring at him as he holds you in his arms.

“i don’t know what i’m supposed to do.” you sob out.

he lets out a heavy sigh. “i’ll be here with you, okay?” he pulls you closer to him. and you let him. your head lay against his chest, he leans back against the foot of your bed. holding you close to him as he tilts his head back. stroking your hair as you sob into his chest.

“just the two of us.”

#jjk itadori #yuji itadori #itadori x reader #angst with a happy ending #angst #tw depressing thoughts #itadori x you #anime #anime / manga #euphoria #love #slow burn #tw weed #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu itadori #tw violence #tw addiction #minors do not interact

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