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theoreticslut · 3 years

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Mutually Curious // g.w.

george weasley x reader

requested: for @anxiousblanketqueen’s bday wc

word count: 3.8k

warnings: 18+ themes, mutual masturbation, slight dom/sub roles

A/N: hey loves! I’ve been wanting to post this one for like a week and I just never got around to it because finals are seriously kicking my ass. I am so stressed and so tired and I just want it all to be over with. But i also really wanted to get this out before Jill’s bday on wednesday (you should totally check out her blog and participate in her bday sleepover 💗) ! Ideally, I wanted to get all the fics out for her bday wc before her bday, but alas that is not happening. Oh well, she’ll just get some late presents 😂💗 Anyways, I hope you enjoy this!! Xx

You truly enjoyed days like this - where you had nowhere to go or nothing to do. You could simply lay around all day and do whatever you pleased without feeling guilty that you were avoiding something else.

What made days like this even better is when they were spent with your best friend, George. You two had been inseparable since second year, ever since you got seated next to each other in Charms class.

Throughout the decade you’ve known each other, your friendship has evolved in some rather beautiful ways. It started with pulling pranks and just having fun in each other’s company. Then you guys started sharing secrets and deep late-night thoughts. Eventually, nothing was off-limits for the two of you to talk about.

You both were just so comfortable with the other that it wasn’t odd to share intimate details that you’d hesitate to tell others. You knew each other inside and out, ranging from the basics of favourite colours and foods, to the more advanced knowledge of deepest fears and wishes, all the way to the ultimate comfort level of knowing each other’s preferences and stories from the bedroom. You just felt completely at ease talking to George no matter what the topic was, and he reciprocated that ease.

You two never run out of things to talk about, though, as you’re always finding out more about yourselves, whether that’s a new kink you want to explore or a new fact you learned.

Today was no different. Without even thinking about it, you’re voicing a rather interesting segway question.

“You know what I’ve kind of always wanted to try?”

“What’s that, darling?” George asks, looking up at you as he’s laid down by your feet.

“Masturbating with someone.”

You can just barely hear him let out a groan before he’s humming out an answer.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I just wonder what it’d be like, you know, being intimate and vulnerable like that without necessarily touching the other. Not that you couldn’t touch the other, though.”

You watch as he seems to think about your statement for a couple seconds, nodding lightly.

“Yeah, it’d definitely be interesting. I mean, it’s fun to tease your partner that way - you know, not letting them touch themselves while you get yourself off - but I’ve never really thought about both people masturbating.”

“I don’t know what I’d think about it.” You admit.

“I feel like it could be embarrassing, but at the same time it really does sound like fun.”

Frowning in thought, you lean back to look at the ceiling. You can only imagine what it’d be like to masturbate with someone present. All of that attention on you, basically putting you in a spotlight. You’re not so sure about that.

“Why do you think it’d be embarrassing?” George frowns as he props himself up to look at you. He’s known you long enough now to know that you don’t get embarrassed very easily. Why would you find mutual masturbation embarrassing? It’s not like you would be the only one doing it.

“I don’t know. I guess I’m thinking I might feel too exposed?” You sigh.

“Being naked in front of a guy, touching myself, having him watch? Like with sex at least his hands are on me so his attention is a bit divided. I’m not under his full gaze, you know?”

He hums, thinking about your words. He could understand how it could be uncomfortable to have a person’s undivided attention, but at the same time he thinks it sounds pretty great - having your attention solely on him as he strokes himself. And just the idea of getting to watch you pleasure yourself has him excited, his cock twitching happily in his trousers.

“We could always try it?” He offers, not hesitating to share his thought.

“What?” You ask, a bit incredulously, sitting up to look at him, meeting his gaze almost immediately.

“I mean, if you want to. It’s not like we haven’t talked about doing things with each other before, and we’d just be getting ourselves off. We wouldn’t have to touch each other if you didn’t want to.” He explains as he rubs at the back of his neck, clearing his throat as his cock grows at the idea of watching you squirm as you come undone in front of him.

You can’t help the little needy whine that escapes your lips, cheeks growing warm at the idea. You’ve only thought of George in bed with you at least a thousand times by now. There’s no way of stopping the thoughts of his cock and what it’d look and feel like from running through your head.

“And we’re already comfortable with each other, yeah? That could help you not feel so embarrassed.” he offers, hoping you agree. He’s only dreamt of you a thousand times by now, picturing what your body looks like and what your moans and whines sound like. It’s not uncommon for him to pop a boner at the thought of you.

You nod, understanding his thoughts. Honestly, there’s no one else you could imagine trying this with. While you’re embarrassed at the idea of your best friend seeing you naked and so vulnerable, the idea excites you to no end. You already felt safe with him, so why try this with anyone else?

“What do you say, y/n? You want to try it?”

You nod, a small whimper falling from your lips as you do. You never thought that you’d ever actually do anything with George, but Merlin have you wanted to. That’s one of the only downfalls of being so close with george - you can’t help but get turned on and want to see how true his stories are when he shares them with you.

“Y-yeah. Do you?”

“Godric, yes.” He moans, nearly panting already as he never turns his attention from you. If you thought you got turned on by his stories, you should try paying attention to him more when you tell yours. He’s constantly hiding an erection and trying to not pounce on you and make you his.

“O-okay.” You smile, already blushing as you gently chewing on your bottom lip as you figure out what to do first.

You figure that you should probably both undress first, so you cautiously grab the hem of your shirt, his eyes trained on you as he sits up.

Smiling and gently biting on your bottom lip, you slowly lift up the material to reveal your simple black bra to him, not able to stop the soft giggles from your lips as he groans.

“We’ve barely started and you’re already teasing me?”

“Not teasing you yet, Georgie. I’m just undressing.” You smirk, removing your shirt from your body.

He moans, eyes roaming over your exposed skin. Sure he’s seen your skin before while you wear shorter clothes in the summer, but watching you undress in this context for him is something he just can’t get over. He knows he’s not the first person to see your body, but that doesn’t matter when he’s the one who gets to see it right now.

“You’re so beautiful, darling. You know that, don’t you?”

You smile, a blush on your cheeks as you take in his words. You’ve been told by a number of people that you’re beautiful, but hearing it from George’s lips is otherworldly. It feels so much more sincere and intimate coming from him.

George smiles, watching as you melt at his words. He’s loving how absolutely adorable you currently look with a blush on your cheeks half undressed for him.

“Keep undressing, baby. I want to see you.” He urges, leaning back a little to spread his legs.

“Aren’t you going to?”

“Eventually, I promise. I want you to show me your beautiful body first. Can you do that for me, baby?” He asks, trying his best to contain a groan. Seeing you so vulnerable and pouty is more attractive than he would have thought.

You nod, smiling as you watch his eyelids droop in pleasure, a low moan passing through his lips.

You slowly untie the drawstrings on your sweatpants, smirking as his eyes follow every movement of your hands.

Carefully, you trail your hands over your body on top of your bottoms, enjoying the needy whimper that leaves George’s mouth. You grab at your inner thighs, purposefully avoiding your sex, loving the way that George is squirming in his spot.

Smirking, you slip your hands under the waistband of your pants, finally pulling them off your legs.

“Fuck, darling.” George groans, head lolling backwards.

He can’t help the grunt that leaves his lips at the soft giggles rising from your chest. He’s trying his best to behave, but all he wants is to take control of you.

“Georgie, you’re not watching.” You giggle, teasingly pulling the straps of your bra down off your shoulders.

“You’re being a tease, darling.”

“I would never, Georgie.” You smirk, loving the way his eyes darken at the sight of your bra straps hanging around your arms.

“No one likes a liar, y/n. Behave, angel, or maybe I’ll just leave you to get yourself off in front of me. Won’t let you see me.”

You whine, thighs clenching together at his threat as a pout forms on your puffy lips. George had mentioned he was pretty dominate, but you never expected it to be so hot, nor could you ever truly picture it.

“No. George, please don’t. I’m being a good girl. I promise.”

Whining at his dark chuckle, you watch as he situates himself a bit on the bed.

“Show me then. Show me how good you’re being.”

You nod, unclipping your bra and tossing it across the room. You grope at your breasts, a moan falling from your lips at the pure pleasure of it.

You hate to admit it, but from the moment george offered to try this, you had gotten extraordinarily aroused. You needed relief and you were finally getting some from your touch against your breasts.

“Such pretty tits, baby.” He praises, eyes glued to your chest and the way you wriggle under your own ministrations.

“Why don’t you take one of your hands, angel, and touch yourself through your panties? I bet your wet already, yeah?”

You whine, trailing your right hand down your body to the waistband of your panties, teasing it gently. You slide your pointer finger just under the band, enough to lift it from your skin and send shivers throughout your body, before you let it softly snap against your body.

“You like teasing yourself, darling?” George asks, restraining from touching you himself.

He just wants to see how wet you are. The idea of a wet spot growing on your panties while you rub yourself has him nearly wild.

You smirk, chewing on your bottom lip as you start to touch yourself, your fingers against your heat feeling amazing.

“Oh, George. Feels so good.” You moan, eyes shutting and head falling back against the pillows.

“I bet it does, darling. I bet you want to finger yourself right now, yeah?”

“Yes. Yes, George. I do.”

“Well wait a minute now, okay? You want to watch me undress, yeah?”

You nod lazily, trying your hardest to prop your head back up through your initial wave of pleasure.

He smiles, loving your blissed out face already as he lifts off his shirt. He smirks as he hears you hum in admiration.

Once off, he tosses it onto the floor and turns his attention back to you. He can’t help but chuckle as he watches your eyes trail over his torso. He knows he’s fit, having played quidditch for years, but having you admire his body has his ego rapidly inflating.

He carefully undoes the button on his jeans, slowly undoing the zipper and watching as you watch his every move.

He groans as he notices you slowly start rubbing your fingers over your pussy through your panties.

“So pretty for me, darling. Touching yourself while I undress. You’re so pretty, but you’re needy, yeah? Can’t even wait ‘til I’m out of my trousers.”

He smirks at the whine that leaves your lips, watching as your fingers slow down and you squeeze your legs together.

“M sorry, Georgie.”

“Don’t apologize, darling. I like how needy you are.” He smiles, watching you with pure adoration.

You blush at his words, unaware that he’s watching you intently as you watch his hands.

You whine as he slowly pulls off his pants, his boxers coming right along with them. You nearly drool as you watch his cock spring free from their constraints, and the groan that leaves George’s lips alongside it is pure heaven.

“Can you take off your panties, baby girl? Please?”

You nod, carefully hooking your fingers under the material on each of your hips, before swiftly sliding them down your legs, leaving you bare in front of your best friend.

“Godric you’re so pretty. Knew you would be, but bloody hell, darling.”

You blush, a whine slipping past your lips as he chuckles, grabbing the base of his cock.

“Fuck, baby. Show me how you make yourself feel good.”

You start at your chest again, softly groping each of your breasts and rolling your nipples between your fingers. You sigh gently at the feeling, registering George’s heavy panting across from you.

You carefully open your eyes to look at him, finding it difficult due to the pleasure coursing through your body.

You watch as he slowly strokes his cock, rubbing his thumb over the slit for a second or so whenever he reaches the top. Moaning softly at the sight, you slowly start trailing your hand down your body towards your sex.

Bucking against your hand as you reach your clit, you listen as George hisses, drawing your attention to him.

You watch as he grips his cock a bit tighter, his eyes closing gently in pleasure, falling backwards.

“You look so handsome, Georgie. Love when you throw your head back.” You giggle, loving the groan that leaves him and the small smile that forms on his face.

“You’ll be the death of me, y/n. The absolute death of me.” He smiles, watching as you blush and close your eyes gently while you play with your clit. This feels so much better than you could have imagined, your pussy already so wet and fluttering for george.

“Oh, George!” You gasp as you slip your middle finger past your folds, not thinking much about your actions anymore. whatever felt good is what you were doing.

“Ohhh, feels so good.” You mumble, starting to finger yourself as George watches intently, throat going dry. He wants nothing more than to take over for you, to finger you himself and to maybe get a taste. It’s taking everything in him to hold back, wanting to watch you pleasure yourself.

He watches as your fingers speed up, drawing you closer and closer to your release, moans and whimpers falling freely from your lips.

Before either of you truly realize it, you’re gasping as you come undone in front of him. You can feel your wetness seeping out of your cunt as the haze of pleasure slowly clears from your mind.

“That was so hot, baby.” George states, mouth softly closing as he watches you come to, his cock throbbing as he’s close to release himself just from watching you.

“Oh, George. Y-you haven’t cum.” You pout, looking over his face as he scoffs.

“I don’t care, darling. Seeing you come undone was more than enough.��

“But-“

“C-can I touch you? I want to finger you, baby. Please?” He asks, cutting you off from whatever argument you were going to give.

“You want to finger me?” You ask, a little surprised at his bluntness.

George nods enthusiastically, practically drooling at the idea. He can just imagine how warm and soft you must feel.

“C-can I touch you?”

“Merlin, please. Yes, y/n. Please touch me.” He begs, finding it hard to wait for your answer.

“Okay then. Go ahead, Georgie.” You blush, biting on your bottom lip as he practically pounces on you, fingers quickly finding your folds and running through them.

You jolt at the sudden friction, your previous orgasm having left you more sensitive than you realized.

“Hold on, George.” You gasp, grabbing a hold of his wrist to stop his ministrations.

“Are you okay? Did I do something wrong?”

“Didn’t do anything wrong, baby boy, I’m just sensitive. Need you to give me a second.” You explain, trying to catch your breath.

He nods, breath catching in his throat at the pet name. He’s had women be more dominant with him, but none have ever called him that. He never realized just how nice it could sound, but he’s sure it only sounds so nice because you spoke it. Regardless, he wants to hear you say it again.

“Okay, Georgie. Start gentle, please.”

“Like this?” He asks, his fingers barely touching you as he circles your entrance, occasionally dancing up to play with your clit.

“Just like that. Feels so good, baby. You can add a little more pressure if you want.”

You gasp, nodding as he increases the pressure in which he touches you.

“So good, Georgie.” You sigh, slowly reaching out for his cock between the two of you.

“C-can you call me that again?” He asks a bit bashfully, shivering as you faintly circle his tip with your finger.

“Call you what?”

“B-aby boy.” He gasps, your hand grasping around him tighter.

“Oh? You like that name, do you? Like being called baby boy?” You giggle, stroking his cock slowly.

“Yes.” He groans, bucking into your hand.

“Alright, Georgie, baby. You’re doing so good, but you can speed up now if you’d like to baby boy.”

He nods, finally taking control of your pleasure now that he knows you’re okay. He sighs as he can smell, and practically taste you, wanting more than anything to do so.

You quicken your movements on his cock as you feel yourself clench around his fingers. You want, more than anything, to make sure he gets to cum this time around.

“So close, Georgie. I want you to cum with me, baby boy. You think you can do that?”

He nods, bucking once again into your hand as you swipe your thumb over his slit, spreading his pearly precum around.

You can feel him twitch as you smirk, moaning as he leans up to start kissing at your neck.

“George.” You whine, eyes closing at how amazing his lips feel on you.

“Yes, darling?” He smirks.

“Who’s the tease here, now?” You pant, squeezing at his cock as you stroke him, loving as he shivers in pleasure.

“I th-ink it’s still you, baby.” He smirks, nipping at your neck.

“If you’re going to kiss me, can it at least be my lips?” You pout, wanting to kiss him so bad. You’ve always wondered what his lips would feel like against yours.

He chuckles, leaning up a bit further to capture your lips with his, both of you moaning at the sensation.

You can feel him twitch against you as you clench around his fingers, both of you close, but you had a feeling George was closer.

Sighing into the kiss, you squeeze your hand around the base of his cock, gently tracing the outline of his balls as he jolts.

“Fuck!” He groans as he cums, spilling his warm seed onto your thigh as you clench around him again, so close to cumming a second time.

“I’m so close, Georgie. Don’t stop, baby, please.” You beg, still slowly stroking him to milk his release.

With his eyes shut tight, he curls the two fingers inside you, perfectly hitting where you needed him to to send you over the edge.

“Yes, George!” You gasp, coming undone on his fingers.

He groans, eye shooting open although they’re heavy with his own pleasure. There’s no way he’s going to miss watching you cum around his fingers.

“So...pretty. So pretty, angel.” He mumbles, completely blissed out from his own release and then watching yours.

He sighs as he gently removes his fingers from your sex, groaning as he stuffs them into his mouth.

You both lay there for a few minutes, him laying practically on top of you as you both regain your energy and catch your breaths.

He’s the first to look up at you, admiring the post-coital state you’re in - happily playing with his hair and thinking with a soft smile fixed on your lips.

“So? What did you think?” He murmurs, watching you for your reaction.

You smile as you look down at his face, taking in how tired he looks.

“It was amazing, George. Something I’d definitely be willing to do again.”

“Yeah? I’m glad. I’m thinking next time we go all the way? What do you think?”

“All the way?” You ask him, quirking a brow in amusement.

“After you taste me, we get to see how my dick feels inside you.”

“Oh, so you just want to fuck now, yeah?” You laugh, pausing your hand in his hair as he chuckles, burying his face into your neck in slight embarrassment.

“Well, I’d kind of like to take you out on a date and ask you out if that’d be okay?” he smiles, muffled by your neck as he presses hot kisses to the skin.

“Oh yeah?” You tease, smiling just as he nips at your neck, sending a shiver throughout your body.

“Definitely. Best friends is wonderful, but I think we both know we want more, yeah?” He smiles, watching as you chuckle, a small blush taking over your cheeks.

“Just took us messing around to actually admit it.” He adds.

“Admit what now, Georgie?”

“That I want to be with you, as your boyfriend and maybe more someday. That I love you and always have.” He smiles cheekily, leaning up to kiss you as you giggle, pressing a soft kiss to his lips before pulling away.

“I love you.” You smile, absentmindedly picking up where you left off in playing with his hair.

You both lay in a comfortable silence for a minute or so, basking in each others love and body heat. You never expected your day to turn out like this, but you were glad it did.

“Thank you for trying this with me, but I agree, next time we go all the way.”

George chuckles at your words, a smile on his face as he presses a sweet kiss to your lips, his arms wrapping around you as he pulls you in close to him for a short nap.

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deltas-writing-corner · 3 years

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Tsukumo Yuki relationship headcanons

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

Pairing: Tsukumo Yuki x reader

Author note: Tsukomo Yuki is the reason I love woman and she can crush me between her thighs send tweet

Warnings: Potential manga spoilers (?) | Mentions of s*x, but nothing too blatantly explicit. I would still prefer it if minors did not interact with this post in any way.

Yuki always asks the people she meets what type of woman they like. If someone were to ask that same question back to her, she’ll most certainly utter back your name as if it were an obvious response.

What’s not to love about you? You’re cute. You make her laugh. You cook for her because heaven knows she can't if her life depended on it. Most importantly, you keep her company due to the lack of curses she’s ever sent to exorcise. Traveling the world is fun and all, but it’s even more fun with you by her side!

You’re not a sorcerer. You can’t even see curses. Yuki is a childhood friend of yours and has kept you in the loop regarding the world of jujutsu sorcery since she started integrating into it. She thinks it’s important for you to know that someone like you, a non-curse user who has no control over the curse energy you create, should know what exactly your negative emotions can lead to. It’s not to make you feel bad or pin blame on you in any way. It’s her way of protecting you beyond physical means as well as a way of showing you that she places a great deal of trust in you regarding the nature of her line of work and her true goals.

Because she rejects the methods of the higher-ups and her ideology is more along the lines of putting an end to the creation of curses permanently instead of letting them manifest and dealing with them when they start causing profound trouble, you’re often the one that has to listen to all her new, sometimes overreaching, hypotheses now and then. You may even take part in her research, but she would never put you in any sort of harm! At least, not unless you give her the okay to. Be warned, if you give your blessing to be her little lab rat she’s prone to get carried away with her methods. Speak up if she’s doing something outrageous or if she’s making you uncomfortable. Otherwise, you might end up in some precarious situations.

As mentioned previously, Yuki isn’t sent out on missions that often, if ever. She instead chooses to travel in and out of the country, for the sake of her research as well as for the pleasure of it. Since she’s one of three, later four, special grade sorcerers her salary is rather tremendous. Unfortunately, her travels outside Japan are “unauthorized” and sometimes her funds get frozen by the higher-ups. Her quick solution to the matter is to fly back, take on a mission or two to get her funds unfrozen (and into your account because you’re her partner-in-crime) or even take on a mission to earn some more funds, and then you and her are right back to traveling the world again.

During one of these money replenishing heists, she met a kid that she took a particular interest in and wanted to mentor, Aoi Todo. It’s hard for most people to spark her interest to the extent Todo did, so you happily supported her endeavors and even met with her young pupil a few times throughout the years. Her methods of training are a bit....extreme, to put it lightly. You understand that holding back her punches will only hinder Todo’s progress instead of allowing him the ability to improve and push past his limits, but you can’t help but flinch over the large scar that marks his face whenever you briefly meet up with him.

Todo is eccentric, but so is Yuki. Perhaps not idol obsessed like Todo, but seeing the way he takes great care of his appearance and flaunts his body (during a battle even), he’s a near-identical clone of Yuki. She knows that she’s good-looking, and she will always flaunt this fact to anyone with working eyes, even you! Does it work every single time? Yes. Yes, it does.

Honestly, how can it not? She’s tall. She has a great butt. She drives a motorcycle. Her tight biker pants are your Achilles heels and she knows it. Sometimes she’ll wear them around the house just to flaunt her curves and other bodily goods, even if it’s the middle of the summer, the AC is broken and the pants are made of stuffy leather material. If it gets your face all heated up, she'll wear it.

The compliments she gets from strangers are nice and all, but it’s your reactions she truly cares about. You’ve been by her side through it all. You're still sticking with her even despite the fact that she’s constantly moving around and living a somewhat free-spirited lifestyle. You genuinely support and help her when almost everyone else has rejected her methods and ideals and brush her off as some lazy, outrageous-thinking woman. Really, you stole this woman’s heart just by letting her be herself, a lazy, outrageous-thinking woman.

Yuki is indeed lazy, to the point it sometimes affects you and your shared apartment is left in a week-long accumulated mess. I’m talking clothes strewed about and spilling out the already full laundry basket, sink filled with dirty dishes, houseplant half dead due to insufficient watering, and little dusty bunnies in the corner of the room. Whenever you try to get around to getting your living space in order, she always drags you back to the bed with her either to nap some more or for a quick round of sex that leads to more napping. Eventually, you have to beat her with a pillow and threaten her with no sex for a certain period of time to get her to back off, which always works without fail.

If you really hold the “no sex until...” ultimatum over her head long enough, she’ll even pitch in and help you clean. But to be honest she kinda sucks at it so it’s sometimes better to just have her sit on the sidelines while you do all the work. She’ll jokingly suggest you clean with just an apron on (because she’s a freak like that), but you haven’t taken her up on the suggestion just yet. It’s mostly because you’ll use the “naked apron” method to further insinuate her punishment if your usual threat begins to lose its potency (because you are also a freak like that).

She’s a bad sleeping partner. Not only does she hog all the blankets and pillows, but she even stretches out her limbs over the entire bed. This usually leaves you curled up in a corner shivering your ass off until you either fall asleep via exhaustion or move to the couch. If you go to the couch, she’s 99.9% likely to wake up and join you shortly after, where she’s less of a hassle to deal with because of the limited space.

She’s a great big spoon, which is actually one of the ways you later use to solve her troublesome habits as once she latches onto you, she will not let go the rest of the evening. Unfortunately, she also snores terribly loud, but it’s nothing earbuds can’t fix.

Some might think she sleeps in something flattering, maybe even a bit scanty. That couldn’t be any further from the truth. Her pj’s are decades-old shirts and gym shorts that she never got around to getting rid of. If not that, she’ll sleep completely naked and she doesn’t care if someone walks in on her with the covers off. She’ll only ever wear lingerie or other promiscuous pieces of clothing if she has intentions of getting between your legs and rocking your world for the rest of the night.

I think it goes without saying that she looks great in lace, but as hot as she may look, she really likes seeing you dressed up in something risque as well.

If you’re female, she sometimes likes to wear matching lingerie sets with you, but her favorite material to see you in is leather, especially those harness-styled sets that squeeze your flesh all around.

If you’re male, she’s a complete sucker for a man in a clean-cut, custom-tailored suit and will take it off as soon as you put it on. Hope you don’t mind losing a button or two, because she will pop them off for sure when she rips your dress shirt off of you.

To all my gender-neutral folks, It’s never too late to whip out that naked apron I mentioned earlier! Or a leather jacket. Everyone looks great in a leather jacket!

Yuki’s diet is fucking terrible. You’re a decent cook, but despite this, all she ever seems to want is greasy take-out food that makes you wonder how the hell she’s still so fit after witnessing her down three chicken burritos in one sitting. Even when the two of you are abroad and are able to try out different types of cuisines not so readily available in Japan, she’ll still want to go out to a fast food joint that you can easily find everywhere. You’ve tried to get her to branch out of her comfort zone and eat somewhat healthier alternatives of her favorite foods, but so far you’ve gotten mixed results.

In summary: Yuki is a pretty outgoing person and sometimes can be a bit of a hassle to deal with, but she’s clearly ambitious and moves to the tune of her own beat. Her goal of finding and effectively eliminating the source of all curses is a testament to the fact that she wants to save future generations from having to carry the burden sorcerers have been carrying for thousands of years. Her goals are not only for the sake of the people who will come after her, but also for the sake of her future with you. You’re someone she genuinely cares for and wishes to spend the rest of her life with, evident by the numerous times she’s come clean to you about her fears of you dying when she isn't around to protect you or of her dying and leaving you behind to mourn during late-night pillow talks in hotels or in your shared home. A future where you and her can travel the world and truly take in and enjoy the sights and wonders instead of searching for an answer to one of the world’s greatest phenomenon is a future worth fighting for, even if she’s met with some pushback or the end goal seems like nothing more than a pipedream at times. So long as you’re there with her to see her research bear fruit, she’ll keep testing and coming up with new methods to eliminate curses permanently, no matter the extremes her research takes her to.

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jjk x reader #yuki tsukumo #tsukumo yuki #jjk #writing #reader insert #gender neutral reader #female reader #male reader #jjk headcanons #minors dni

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fresh-bag-of-ham · 3 years

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ok let’s talk SUNSCREEN

SO the UV filters available in the US can at this point be considered truly terrible. One of the main reasons you’re supposed to reapply sunscreen every two hours is that many of the filters we use are destroyed by the very UV radiation they are designed to block. Killed in the line of duty, thank you for your sacrifice, etc. Counterpoint: sunscreen is gross and reapplying it every two hours is the worst. I am not doing that. Fortunately, Europe and Japan/Korea have been much quicker to approve newly developed more stable UV filters for use and at this point they have some really good ones. They also have much better UVA protection, both because of the better filters available and better labeling regulations.

A quick simplified summary: UVB causes sunburns, is directly absorbed by DNA strands which causes the mutations that lead to skin cancer, SPF measures protection against this only. UVA does more generic damage, creates free radicals associated with aging, wrinkles, collagen loss, pigmentation, etc. etc., but can also contribute to immunosuppression and therefore skin cancer. It’s more complex than this obviously but that’s not really the point of this post.

My sunscreen criteria: I hate wearing sunscreen. However, Accutane + sun = an extremely bad time. My ideal sunscreen is something that doesn’t feel disgusting to wear so I will wear it regularly in the first place (i.e. dry-touch), something I ideally don’t have to reapply super often under normal daily use (i.e. photostable UV filters, water-resistant when necessary), and has maximum protection. As long as I’m wearing it, I also want as much UVA protection as I can find, without compromising the former criteria.

Note: The sunscreens I tried are almost all chemical UV filters and several are loaded with alcohol, so if that upsets your skin then proceed with caution/ask me for a specific rec!

Note 2: All of these are SPF50+ (the highest rating allowed in the EU (meaning they tested at at least SPF60) unless otherwise specified *cough*Supergoop*cough*)

Best Face: Kao Biore UV Aqua Rich Watery Essence (x)

Best feel, best protection, best price point. This gets recommended everywhere for a reason. Bit of a silicone feel on the face. No white cast. Smells like alcohol at first. Really, really quality daily face sunscreen. Water resistant. Caveat that because of the alcohol I would make sure to throw a layer of moisturizer on beforehand to make sure I’m not totally drying myself out.

Also make sure you get the name exactly right, there’s a blah blah Watery Gel that’s totally different consistency, totally different filters, etc. etc. It has to be Watery Essence.

Best Body: Eucerin Sun Sensitive Protect Dry Touch Sun Gel-Cream (x)

This was a sleeper hit, so shout-out to Eucerin for the greatest body sunscreen I’ve ever tried. This stuff is SO protective and dries SO. DAMN. DRY. Zero grease somehow, feels like nothing. It’s even water resistant. I tried a couple LRP body sunscreens but they honestly aren’t worth mentioning. Eucerin or bust babey!

More Face Sunscreens:

I’ve also tried all top five sunscreens from this Stylevana listicle of Asian face SPF (x). The thing about face sunscreens that they’ve started doing is loading them up with silicones and acrylate polymers, which leaves a silicone-y feel on your skin like a makeup primer. As far as I can tell from poking through various patents, these polymers are doing a few things in the formula: a) emulsifying/stabilizing the newer/bigger UV filter molecules, and creating an occlusive layer over the UV filter molecules on the skin to a) improve water resistance and b) reduce eye stingy-ness. At first I thought I wanted to avoid these seemingly unnecessary additives but considering their function, these are all features I want/need in a face sunscreen so we’re living with them.

1. Shiseido - Anessa Perfect UV Sunscreen Skincare Milk: really good, sliiight white cast but absolutely no streaks, more like a foundation just a hair too light for my skin tone. However I can’t imagine buying this because #2 on the list is better and 1/3 the price. Medium silicone feel. Something I’d probably only break out for when I went to an outdoor summer wedding.

2. Kao - Biore UV Aqua Rich Watery Essence: I have already sung its praises.

3. MISSHA - All Around Safe Block Essence Sun Milk: closest to a US milky/greasy sunscreen experience here, though very fluid and still absorbs nicely. No silicone feel. Not a bad choice but nothing special.

4. Canmake - Mermaid Skin Gel UV: probably second favorite after Biore. Similar, bit less of a silicone feel. I’ve gotten red a couple times using this though, possibly because less silicone feel = no layer of protection against sweat/physically rubbing off? I bet this would be perfect under makeup though, it’s super light.

5. COSRX - Aloe Soothing Sun Cream: SO moisturizing, almost a dewy feel that sits on your skin and never dries. I wanted to love her, but unfortunately she is so loaded with the aforementioned polymers that when you reapply/put the appropriate amount on to begin with, it completely gums up and pills and you lose all protection. Also definitely not water resistant. Probably my top pick for a winter daily face sunscreen that I wouldn’t ever be worrying about reapplying though.

Other Contenders:

La Roche-Posay Anthelios Invisible Fluid (x) and Bioderma Photoderm Max Milk (x)

These two bad boys have the highest rated UVA protection currently on the market, 46 PPD for La Roche-Posay and 42 PPD for Bioderma. The LRP is extremely watery (technically alcohol-y) and comes in a teeny bottle(though same size as a lot of these I guess) but it is The Best UVA protection money can buy. The texture is really nice too, and feels super water resistant. If I’m outside sweating or on the water in the summer, this is going on my face. I've also seen it on sale multiple times since I’ve started researching sunscreens (because it’s extremely popular) so you can definitely find it in the $0.30/mL-or-less tier if you keep an eye out.

This Bioderma is cheaper and also extremely protective (thanks Helena @bronyraurmp3 for the rec!) but unfortunately it stung both my and Mr T’s eyes like a BITCH. Extremely unpleasant experiences for both of us. TBH if I’m out in midday sun, swimming or kayaking or something, I’m gonna be wearing a long-sleeved UPF rashguard to protect my arms and upper body and not worrying too much about whatever cheap greasy sunscreen I put on my legs. This Bioderma stuff would be going on my neck, ears, and hands though bc it’s super water resistant.

Eucerin Sun Sensitive Protect Mattifying Fluid : bit of a white cast, really slippy texture going on and nice dry touch texture when it dried down, but drying down took foreeever. Probably really nice if you’re sensitive and pale.

Eucerin Sun Oil Control Gel-Cream Dry Touch : VERY matte and dry-touch, would have loved it if I hadn’t gotten burned using it (doesn’t have all the newest most stable UV filters). Approaching the expensive end of things too, but would be a lovely option if you really prioritize non-greasiness and don’t need the premium protection? Mr T really liked using it on his bald head lol.

Supergoop Unseen Sunscreen SPF40 (US): This is recommended many places but it has to be a joke that people are actually paying Shiseido Anessa prices for old American UV filter selection, only SPF 40, and no UVA rating to speak of, right??? (ok they do have a PA+++ rating meaning a PPD of 8-16, so. this is acceptable.) I did not test this one but damn wtf. The texture is probably nice though and it looks perfectly sheer in the photos on their website, so maybe as a last resort for darker skintones that show a white cast with everything else? At that price tho... you do you but damn.

Jigott Snail UV Sun Block : This had good reviews on Yesstyle but it sucked. White streaks, bad.

La Roche-Posay Anthelios Ultra-Light Tinted Mineral Sunscreen SPF60 (US): Another in the outdoor-wedding only price range. There’s a tinted and a non-tinted mineral version and I ended up mixing them together to get a shade that looked pretty good on me, but needing two bottles for that puts it in the extremely ridiculous price category. Really slippy nice texture that takes a bit to dry but dries down perfectly matte. I guess the person who wants to shell out for a high end all-mineral tinted sunscreen exists somewhere out there but I would bet there are many nice cheaper mineral options out there that I haven’t tried.

And that’s it! For EU sunscreens, I was able to order them on caretobeauty.com, and Japanese/Korean ones from yesstyle.com or stylevana.com, though I had to go to eBay for the Biore and Anessa. I ordered some Biore from a seller on Amazon but they shipped from Japan and I think they got taken by customs because the last known location on the tracking info is Chicago, so finding a seller in the US that has already imported them seems like a good idea (vendor lullabellabeauty on eBay worked great for me, fwiw, I will definitely order my Biore from there in the future).

If you have specific questions about any of these, or if you have any recs you think I should try, hmu! You will be shocked I’m sure to hear I have a whole sunscreen database at this point.

#skincare

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rnguyen-aet · 3 years

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Shapes

Creatures in Monster Hunter World:

Monster Hunter World is an Action RPG where players embark on hunts to track down large, powerful beasts and fight them. Over the summer of 2019, my friends and I would spend whole days playing this game and showing off the gear that we were able to craft from the materials we got after hunts. After countless hours of playing Monster Hunter World, I've really come to appreciate the fluidity of the monster's design.

The first two images above are from the game's official artbook. They feature concept art and sketches of a monster called Tobi-Kadachi. Many of the game's monsters are distinctly biomorphic and made of curvilinear shapes. The focus on these two design features of the monsters create a very natural feel, allowing them to fit into their surroundings or habitats, while also allowing animators to create fluid animations in combat.

The third image features the monster named Odogaron. I hopped into the game to catch a picture of the beast using the in-game camera. From looking at the image, one can tell that the Odogaron is in an aggressive position and on the verge of pouncing. This is achieved through the use of a technique called squash and stretch. Almost all of the monsters in the game will have recognizable attacks that are fast but telegraphed, signaling to the players they must react quickly to dodge out of the way of an incoming attack.

Shape Glossary:

Shape is the external form or appearance characteristic of someone or something; the outline of an area or figure. As a verb, to shape is to give a particular form. As artists, we shape our characters outward appearance by using shapes.

Abstract Shapes and Abstraction (see Non-objective Shapes)

Abstract means no recognizable objects. Abstraction is a sliding scale from realism to completely non representational. Abstract shapes can be used in backgrounds and textures. The background pattern in this Minecraft image is abstract. The character is still recognizable as a human, but the doctor’s human form is abstracted in the game of Minecraft to conform to the blocks of the game world

Biomorphic

Biomorphic is a free-form pattern or design with a shape suggestive of a living organism, especially an amoeba or protozoan.

Curvilinear Shapes

Curvilinear shapes are s-curves. Curvilinear shapes inform Jessica Rabbit’s character design and can represent a winding river vanishing into the distance.

Distortion

Distortion is exaggeration, contortion, reform, slant, twist, or warp in ways that depart from reality. Look at the Minecraft Human body example. The figure of the Minecraft doctor is distorted by the shape of the blocks.

Idealism

Idealism asserts that the physical world is less important than the mind or the spirit which shapes and animates it. Idealists choose the soul, the mind, or the psyche over the body, the material, and the historical. When ideals (of appearance, or proportion for example) regulate the way an artist represents the world, her work can be described as Idealistic. The leading artists of the High Renaissance - Leonardo, Raphael and Michelangelo - are all associated with varying forms of Idealism, as were ancient Greek sculptors. How do you think idealism affects avatar customization?

Non-objective Shapes (see Abstract Shapes)

Non-objective shapes have no object as a reference and no recognizable subject matter. Non-objective shapes are often used to simplify design shapes. Geometric shapes such as a triangle, square, and circle are abstract until you put them together to represent a house or a smiley face. One Minecraft block, away from the game, is a non-objective shape. Inside the game that same block, depending on it’s color and texture could represent a part of a landscape, sheep, or sword. The block as part of a character or environment inside the game would no longer be abstract.

Positive and Negative Shapes

Positive space is the subject, focal point, or areas of high interest in any composition. Negative space is the area around the areas of interest. All compositions balance positive and negative space. Yes, stuff in the negative space can point to the focal point to make it most obvious. Positive and negative create a whole. Every composition is a combination of positive and negative space. Wield the positive and negative spaces with control and story-telling magic to become a design master.

Realism or Naturalism

Realism, or naturalism, attempts to represent subject matter truthfully, without artificiality or exotic or supernatural elements. In the visual arts, illusionistic realism strives for the accurate depiction of lifeforms, perspective, and the details of light and color.

Rectilinear Shapes

Rectilinear is a boxy shape made with straight lines. For example, the screen you are looking at is a rectilinear shape filled with little square pixels, and pixels are also rectilinear. A storyboard is a series of drawings in a linear set of rectilinear frames.

Representational

Representational means objects that players can name. The object represents something from the real world, or something that has the verisimilitude of realism. A cartoon bunny can represent a rabbit without being realistic. Representational is a sliding scale from realism to almost abstract. 2 dots and a curve can be arranged into an abstract pattern or they can be arranged into an emoji that represents a smiley face.

Silhouette

Silhouette is a profile or shape that is easy to identify. Squash and Stretch Squash and stretch are shapes profiles that emphasize motion. The stretched position shows the form in an extended condition. When you do a sit up your belly squashes and your back stretches.

#Shape #Design #Sketch #Art #Concept #MHW

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speechlessxx · 4 years

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Bring Him Light - xi (King!Steve Rogers x Reader)

Chapter Summary: The reader reaches the second stage of grief – anger.

Warnings: angry!reader, reader’s mood swings rival Steve’s LMAO, fluff, angst

Word Count: 2.5k

<- Last Part -=+=- Next Part ->

The summer sun was unrelenting. Beads of sweat appeared around your hairline as the sun scorched the parts of your skin that was exposed to its heated stare. The parts that were hidden were being scratched by the lace of the loose black gown you wore. The dress was ill-fitting, but no one expected you to dress to the nines after everything you’ve endured.

The kingdom may not have known the entirety of the story. Tales of the runaway queen were still whispered along with the stories of the cruel king. However, the rumors of the unhappy marriage were being put to rest for despite the hot day, your husband stood behind you with his arms wrapped around your body. He was the closest thing to comfort during this troubling morning. You laid the back of your head against his chest as silent tears rolled down your cheeks. The carriage in which your friend’s body was enclosed in was being sent to York to be put to rest alongside her parents. You cried silently for your loss as you said your final goodbye.

The rest of the day, you asked to be alone with your thoughts, opting to stay within your shared bedchamber. He wanted to stay with you, but you told him that he had a country to manage. Your husband didn’t like the idea of you being isolated – especially with Natasha riding off to York with Pietro. You would be completely alone.

But you faked a smile to your husband, trying to convince him you were fine. Steven knew otherwise. He felt as if he were attuned to your emotions by now. He could differentiate a fake smile from a genuine one. He knew this was only the calm to the storm. But he didn’t want to hover nor make you feel trapped. So, he reluctantly left you be.

He did, however, send food up with a servant. The woman stood at your door, a tray with hot soup and a loaf of bread in her hands. She gave you a kind smile and said, “the king would wish that you eat, your grace.”

You returned her smile and shook your head. “I’m not hungry.”

Her kind smile turned nervous as she chuckled. “I’m afraid he insists, your grace.”

“Tell my husband he can shove that hot soup right up his arse,” you chided as you closed the door, refusing to let her in despite her protests. You didn’t see the woman’s wide eyes as the color drained from her face. She was not excited to relay that message to her king – though she did still do it.

Minutes later, your husband barged into the room with the same tray in hand. You were in the balcony, paying him no mind. “You should be kinder to the servants,” he called out to you. “Who knows what rumors you’ll inspire?”

“Killer queen, perhaps? You’ve already taken the moniker of cruel, unfortunately.” You joked. He chuckled as he placed the tray on the foot of your shared bed and walked over to your spot on the balcony. You turned to him and gaped at him in shock.

“I am willing to trade,” Steve smiled as his arms wrapped around your waist.

“You’ve shaved.” You whispered. Your hands cupped his cheeks, grazing over the ghost of his beard.

“I thought perhaps I could use a change… Welcome a new era,” he told you. He gave you a peck on the lips.

“I liked the beard.” You whispered. “I thought you looked rather dashing.”

“Then, I will grow it out again,” Steven promised. “Come, let’s get some food in you.” You shook your head and told him you were not hungry. However, the untimely grumbling of your stomach told him otherwise. He smirked, knowing he had won. You groaned as he pulled you inside. “Did teasing the servant bring you any joy? You should’ve seen her face when she told me what you said.”

“So, I take it you did not shove a bowl of hot soup into your – “

“No.” Steve laughed, breaking a piece of the loaf and pushing it towards your lips. With a roll of your eyes, you allowed your husband to feed you. He’d alternate between the bread and the cooling soup.

“I can feed myself.” You muttered after the fourth spoonful.

“Then, don’t act like a child.” Steven scolded. Although you tried to take the spoon away from him, he reeled his arm from your reach and tutted at you.

He continued to spoon feed you, sometimes dipping bits of bread into the soup. You had never seen a massive man like your husband – muscular and intimidating, from first glance – act so soft… His movements were careful, not trying to overload you with food nor make a mess.

A somber feeling rushed through you as you pictured what he would’ve been like doting on his child. You pictured a sweet little angel with golden locks and his blue eyes, or perhaps they’ll have your features? Maybe a mixture of both of you? You imagined the baby that once grew inside of you was a baby girl. A princess, like her mother. You would’ve been a dream.

A dream that you lost forever.

Steven frowned as he saw your eyes glaze over with fresh, new tears. You blinked them away quickly, but they were relentless like the summer heat. He cast aside the spoon and pulled you into his chest, knowing the storm had finally come as you let out a sob.

He rubbed your back and told you it would be okay – although, he wasn’t sure if it’ll ever be okay.

In all his years on the throne, he had lost many friends. Some were so angry with him for letting Margaret control him for a decade that they refused to come back to court. Some had died alongside him on the many battlefields he’s fought in. He remembered the time when James, his oldest friend and closest confidant, had been on his deathbed. Thankfully, he recovered. Every loss – and near loss – affected him. Hell, the thought that you were lost at sea forever made him go on a rampage.

He knew he couldn’t possibly know what you were going through. He’s seen his friends and allies be struck down during battle, but to have witness your friend’s assault and to have her bleed out in front of you? To have the same nearly done to you and to experience losing your unborn child alone all in the span of a few hours?

His heart broke for you. He was angry for you. But he knew you didn’t need him unleashing his wrath – especially with the two traitors who deserved his ire were still at large. He knew you needed support. You needed your husband.

And he was more than happy to be there for you.

»»————-　⚜　————-««

You eventually fell asleep in his arms. The servant had come in to collect the tray. She couldn’t help but smile when she saw her king and queen wrapped up in each other. She had never seen him more content – happy.

As the sun slowly began to set, Steven had slowly drifted off to sleep as well. Until Lord Barnes and Wilson barged in through the doors. The two sleeping monarchs jolted awake.

“Apologizes, your majesties,” James said, bowing.

“You’re back.” Steven responded as you sat up.

“Where did he go?” You wondered aloud.

“I’ve finally captured him.” James said. The vague statement made you uneasy. More secrets being withheld from you.

“Who?” You asked. Steven had finally told you the truth, and you no longer wanted to be kept in the dark about anything.

“Brock?” Your husband asked. The dark haired man nodded. You felt your blood run hot as you stumbled out of your husband’s arms and out of the bed. Your bare feet met the cold floor, sending a shiver through you as you remembered when you and Wanda ran barefoot in the corridors at night. “(Y/N) – “Steve called you, but you shook your head.

“I want to see him.” You argued. “I need to see him.”

“I don’t think that’s ideal, your grace,” Sam suggested. “Perhaps, this is a matter that the king should handle.”

“No.” You snapped, narrowing your eyes at the three men, who were all keen to protect you from this man. “I will see him.”

James opened his mouth to offer a rebuttal, but Steven raised his hand to silence his friend. He knew you needed this – any sense of closure was better than none.

The two lords led you and the king through the halls. James had explained that in order to not make a scene, he opted to stash Rumlow in the cellar. Brock Rumlow was a lord, a nobleman – and as much as Steve hated it, he did have royal blood running through his veins, too. Although striking him down for all the world to see would’ve sent a clear message – that all traitors would not be forgiven and that their actions will incite consequences, regardless of status – it would’ve been best to handle the situation discreetly. It would’ve speculation versus the words of a nobleman, after all.

Before entering the cellar, Steven looked over at you. The despair and sorrow were gone. There was still a hint of the tears made evident by the puffy eyes and flushed cheeks, but the look of determination took over your features – brows scrunched together, lips pursed. He knew there were a million things going on in your mind at this very moment. Still protective, the king subtly pushed you behind him as he entered the cellar. Behind you were the two lords.

The cellar’s walls were covered with barrels. There were two guards standing on either side of a man wrapped in chains. He was kneeling on the floor from what you could tell.

“Ah, Stevie,” Brock mocked, chuckling a little. “Barnes ever-so gently requested that I immediately return to the castle. I had to refuse. My estate had a small little fire. But, again, he was so kind in his request, I had to come back… Did you miss me, cousin?”

“You ran from your crimes. Do not deny it, cousin,” Steven spat.

“Your estate was perfectly intact.” James added. “Your servants said that you were in a rush to leave. Packing away your belongings as if there was a fire.”

“You along with Pierce conspired to have my wife killed.” Steven snapped.

“I don’t think I know what crimes you speak of…” Brock said.

“You know,” you finally said. The room became stoic and silent as you moved from behind your husband. The lord stared at you in shock. “Like seeing a ghost, isn’t it, Brock?”

“You – you – “He stuttered. “Your grace.” He greeted, less confidently, bowing his head. You stared at him as your blood boiled. You remembered his caring touches. His small smiles and whispers, promising you safety. It was all a lie like the respect he threw your way.

Rumlow had various bruises lined on his face along with a puffed lip. He looked as if he were beaten. The thought of someone being tortured and harmed used to unsettle you, but now as you stared at one of the men who took advantage of your vulnerability – one of the men who put you on the boat, knowing the outcome would’ve ended with your dead body in the sea – all you could think of was good. He deserves it.

“Did you know?” You asked. Of course, you knew the answer. You wanted him to admit it. Admit it you – admit it your husband, to the guards, and the two loyal lords. You wanted to hear him say that he knowingly betrayed you and the crown.

“I – I – I don’t know what you mean,” Brock muttered. He adverted his eyes from your angry glare. The wife of his cousin – the wife he would’ve had, had Steven died from his several illnesses as a child – had an unnerving look on her face. He remembered your kind and thankful smiles when he spoke to you. It was long gone.

“You know.” You pushed. You felt tears prick in your eyes and you made no effort in concealing them. You were grieving. Not only for the loss of your friend but for the loss of your child as well. You were enraged. Everyone in the room could tell – could sense it. Even the two guards were afraid of you. You stalked over to Brock. “Look me in the eyes, Brock,” you scolded as you grabbed a fistful of his hair and craned his neck so that he met your angry eyes. “Look me in the eyes and tell me.”

Brock knew from the moment he agreed with Alexander Pierce to start conspiring against the king that one day, he would meet his cousin’s anger. Earlier in his years on the council, he was afraid of his cousin.

The skinny little prince had grown up to be tall, broad, and muscular. The ballads painted him as an Adonis who was strong as a bull, and his cousin made good on those depictions. He had fought alongside him in many battles. He had seen Steven tear into his foes. He’d witnessed the king’s ruthlessness on the battlefield firsthand.

Brock groomed himself to be accustomed Steven’s violence. As the years wore on, he became desensitized to it. He prepared himself for the day that Steven did strike him down or lock him away in the dungeon like the other traitors. He was prepared for the axe, sword, and torture.

He was not prepared for the woman who seethed in front of him.

He didn’t even think you had the capability to be as malicious as your husband – and quite honestly, neither did you. But circumstances changed. Lives have been lost. And you were enraged in a way you hadn’t felt before.

“You won’t?” You chuckled humorlessly when the man on his knees refused to speak. Every man around you was silent. You relented your grip in his hair as you stood up straight. “Very well.” You gestured to the guard on your right. “Cut his throat.”

“Wait,” Brock begged. “Wait, your grace – (Y/N) – “

The guard pulled out a dagger and held it to his throat when you laughed again. “Wait, stop.” The armored man held the blade centimeters away from the lord’s neck. You smiled at him wickedly. “Is that fear I sense in you, Rumlow?” Your brows knitted together. “Is that fear, my love?” You asked, turning around to your husband who enjoyed seeing his cousin squirm.

“I believe so,” Steven nodded, an equally wicked smile on his own face.

You bent down so that you were at the chained man’s level. You nodded to the guard, who pulled the blade away from his throat. You grabbed Rumlow’s hair again and gave him another sinister smile.

“You and Lord Pierce preyed upon my vulnerability and fears. You tried to turn me against my husband and in doing so, my friend died. My child died,” You spat.

The lord’s eyes widening in realization. He was not only dealing with the aggressions of a betrayed friend, of a queen who survived an attack but of an unhinged, grieving mother who lost her child.

“You may not admit your plans… Not yet. But you will. You may know my husband’s wrath inside and out, but you have not seen mine.”

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #king!steve rogers #king!steve rogers x reader #king!steve rogers imagine #chris evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans imagine #captain america #captain america imagine #captain america x reader #marvel au #marvel royalty #royalty au

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chaseatinydream · 3 years

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pirate king (86) || atz

Hongjoong has always known that he would have to face his father again.

It was inevitable the second Hongjoong had chosen to become the man he was - a pirate, and one known as the Pirate King of the Caribbean, at that. Hongjoong hadn’t chosen the life of a pirate on his own, it had simply been a means to survival when there was no path left for him to take, but he had to admit he had embraced it partially to spit on his father’s ideals as the Chief Commander of the Royal Navy.

And now, he’s meeting his father eye to eye once again, both on different sides of the beach - both on different sides to this battle.

But while he has Wooyoung and Yeosang flanking both his sides, the hot summer air of the tropics taking on a sudden chill, his father approaches the no man’s land in a tiny boat - completely alone.

“Yeosang, do you notice something strange?” Wooyoung whispers out of the corner of his mouth, and Hongjoong can tell from just tense he is from the way his jaw is clenched. Hongjoong can’t see that well with one eye, but he trusts Wooyoung’s instincts and sight as the head gunner.

Next to him, Yeosang nods, a barely perceivable tilt of the head. “Something’s off, but I can’t tell what it is...” The navigator mumbles under his breath, chewing on his bottom lip. Hongjoong swallows, feeling unease stir in the pit of his belly. Just what is happening?

“They haven’t noticed the Treasure, have they?” Hongjoong murmurs softly as his father’s lone boat approaches the island - it’s barely small enough to fit a single man, yet it captures his attention more easily the massive armada at his father’s back. Yeosang nods again, eyes still fixed intently on the rowboat approaching shore.

“They’ll be able to move into cannon range faster than the armada can react, and we’ll cut a straight path in front of their bows to weaken the ships closest to us.” His navigator speaks quickly, but Hongjoong can hear the way his voice is trembling. Yeosang has never been one to enjoy being in the thick of fighting like Yunho and Jongho are, has never learnt to lift a blade larger than a simple knife for self defense. “There are two ships at the side with their artillery directed to us, but it’s the best chance we have. Once we give the smoke signal, San and Chin Hae should come running... if everything goes well.”

Wooyoung lets out a loud breath, blowing at his bangs to get them out of his eyes before he gives his captain an easy smile. “Nothing ever goes well with you, captain, does it?” He says, trying to lighten the mood, and Hongjoong shakes his head slightly, a small smile curling at the side of his mouth.

“We’re still alive for you to complain, so I don’t see what the problem is.” Hongjoong retorts calmly. Yeosang shakes his head in disappointment as Wooyoung snickers, before turning his attention back to the approaching boat.

The boat draws ever closer, close enough for him to make out the features on the man’s face. He’s completely alone, without a single bodyguard with him, something that Yeosang doesn’t understand. Even when his own father had come on board the Treasure for a negotiation, he had brought with him several men to protect him. But for the Chief Commander of the Royal Navy to approach them alone?

The man before them can’t be over-confident, or a simple fool if he has made his way up the ranks of the Royal Navy. He remembers the snippets of conversation he had heard his father make with the Chief Commander of the Royal Navy before, too young to understand with one ear pressed to a hardwood door, but enough to know that the man inside was one respected and feared. The Chief Commander commanded the room with a single word, and Yeosang had wondered just how capable he was to reach the position.

Yet here he is now, approaching the beach in a solitary rowboat, his presence so large that Yeosang already feels the weight of his gaze.

Just how confident is he?

A cold feeling settles on Yeosang’s shoulders as he continues to stare, watching the rowboat come closer to shore. He knows something is wrong, but what-

The gasp falls from his throat, completely unbidden and he rubs at his eyes frantically to confirm that he’s not hallucinating. No, he isn’t, and Yeosang isn’t sure which one is more terrifying to him.

“Captain...” He tugs at Hongjoong’s sleeve, and it’s only when he misses the red fur a few times does he realise his fingers are shaking. “Your father... isn’t supposed to be a witch or something, is he?”

“What? Only in personality, but not in reality...” Hongjoong begins to say, but then Wooyoung curses aloud, shifting forward to look more clearly at the man approaching the island.

“He’s not rowing.”

Hongjoong doesn’t fully process this until it hits him that his father is alone, in a rowboat, and is fast nearing them. He knows what it’s like to be able to do such a thing, sees the way the waves slide around the underside of the boat to propel it closer to shore. There’s no denying it - his father, too, must have the power of the seas.

And that scares him.

Still Hongjoong swallows, straightens his back and takes a step forward, feeling the weight of the musket strapped under his coat and the blade hidden in the sleeves. He raises his head to meet his father’s gaze, and he swears he sees a smile identical to his pulling at the corner of his father’s mouth.

He hates it.

The boat makes it landing far too fast, the waves pushing the small vessel onto shore. His father steps off board, each action as graceful and elegant as flowing water, befitting a man befitting his station, boots crunching in the sand. Hongjoong instinctively moves to take a step back, thickness forming in his throat before he forces himself to stay still even as a drop of cold sweat trickles down his back.

Remember who you’re doing this for, he reminds himself, nails digging into the skin of his palm. The pain grounds him, and he takes a deep breath to calm himself. The crew is all counting on him, their captain, to steer them safely through this storm. And you... you...

Your smile weaves its way into his mind, entwining with his memories. He has to be brave. You’re still waiting for him.

“Snap out of it, captain.” Wooyoung kicks him not so subtly in the knee, and Hongjoong turns his head to give his head gunner a flat look. The man gives him a beatific grin in response. “Don’t think so hard and just focus on capturing that little bastard snake. I’ll protect you with my life, so there’s no need to worry.”

Hongjoong snorts, but part of him does feel marginally better at Wooyoung’s words. “And here I was thinking that I wish it was Yunho here with me instead. Don’t be so hasty to die too, won’t you?” He looks at the purple haired man, a small grin on his face. “You have something to ask Chin Hae too, don’t you?”

Wooyoung levels a suspicious glance at his captain. “... have you been eavesdropping?”

“Will the two of you stop making me feel like a third wheel?” Yeosang grumbles under his breath, and Hongjoong laughs together with Wooyoung at the put out look on their navigator’s face. “Pay attention to the enemy in front of us.”

Hongjoong takes a deep breath, heart lighter. “Sorry, I got distracted. Let’s do it.”

It’s been years since he’s seen his father’s face, and he hasn’t changed one bit since the last time Hongjoong has seen him.

He still has the same, sharp, fine features that women used to throw themselves at when Hongjoong was still a child, dark hair cropped short and parted in the middle to show his eyes. The only difference is that while one of his eyes are green just like Hongjoong last remembers them, the other is a strange, shifting colour that reminds him or a whirlpool at sea and sends shivers up Hongjoong’s spine.

It’s as if there’s something else lurking in his father’s body that’s not quite human.

His father steps up to the line drawn in the sand, both hands clasped behind his back and a serene smile on his handsome face. At a simple glance, he doesn’t appear to be carrying any weapons on him, dressed in nothing but a smart black coat with the Royal Navy’s insignia decorating the space over his heart. Hongjoong clenches his jaw ever so slightly at the red rose blooming there, but doesn’t say a word, meeting his father’s eyes evenly. The scar along his eye burns at the sight of him.

Don’t speak first, don’t show any weakness, don’t-

“You must have suffered a lot, Hongjoong.”

For the first time in almost a decade, Hongjoong hears his father speak again. It’s the same, steady voice that calmed him when he was trapped in the storms with his father in a tiny sailboat, the one that his ears could pick up even as the winds howled and the thunder crashed through the sky. His father never raised his voice, not once, and at the sound of his words Hongjoong feels like a child who just wants to hold his father’s hand again.

And he hates it.

“That’s not what we came here to talk about.” Wooyoung says loudly, and Hongjoong mentally breathes a word of thanks to his head gunner as he takes the momentary distraction to get himself back under control.

“He’s right,” Hongjoong speaks, and is relieved when his voice comes out firm and steady. Yeosang nods from next to him, eyes evenly trained on the man opposite them. “We’re here to negotiate for our crew’s freedom. ”

“Your crew’s safety is already guaranteed.” The man before him says so warmly that Hongjoong wants to hurl. It’s the exact same gentle smile his father had worn as he abandoned Hongjoong to bleed out on that island. “I mean no harm towards you, or your crew.”

“That doesn’t explain the whole armada behind you.” Wooyoung snaps, seething. The commander simply laughs, shaking his head kindly. “I assure you that they were never here to open fire on your ship. I only brought them to flush you out of Tortuga, otherwise you would never have agreed to a conversation with me. It is my hope that we will be able to resolve this without you having to pull the trigger, good sir.”

Wooyoung and Yeosang both flinch, the former reaching back subconsciously to touch the firearm behind his back before he catches himself. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Hongjoong’s father merely shrugs, an easy tilt of the head that shows neither fear nor wariness. The smooth, refined way he speaks almost makes Yeosang’s head feel light, the right amount of politeness softened with the perfect touch of compassion and gentleness that makes him want to believe everything coming out of this man’s mouth, a textbook example of a perfect diplomat. Refusing him would make Yeosang feel awful, and-

“Yeo, snap out of it.” Wooyoung whispers harshly out of the corner of his mouth, and Yeosang startles out of it, surprised. “I don’t know what he’s doing, but don’t listen to it. Remember, he’s our enemy.”

“It’s a pity that you think of me that way, although that is completely understandable.” Hongjoong’s father nods with a resigned smile, and Yeosang almost finds himself rushing to reassure the man before he catches himself, throwing both hands over his mouth. Is this what hearing the voice of a siren is like, he wonders to himself, fear creeping up the back of his throat. “My purpose here is simple.”

“You want Chin Hae, and we’re not giving her to you. So find something else you want, because I’m not giving up one of my crew to someone like you.” Hongjoong says coldly, and his father simply raises an eyebrow in response. His eyes are as perceptive as those of an osprey, and he lets out a pained sigh, shaking his head in what seems to be both disappointment and worry. “So, it is true that you’ve fallen in love with it. Hongjoong, what you call Chin Hae is something that you haven’t fully even begun to understand.”

“What?” Hongjoong spits out, the word tasting bitter in his mouth. Is his father really saying he understands you more than he does? “What are you talking about?”

“You have a starstruck look in your eyes. I say this because I’m worried as your father, Hongjoong.” His father says calmly, and Hongjoong flinches, one hand gripping his eyepatch before he lets it fall back to the side. There’s a pressure building in his chest, a furious, boiling anger than feels like it’s about to explode any moment. How dare his father come after him, after everything he’s ever done, interfering with the life that he’s built and acting like he knows him?

“That doesn’t have anything to do with you.” He practically spits, voice rising in volume as he tries to keep his emotions under control. “If you did give a bit of care about your only son, you wouldn’t have shot him and left him alone to die on an island!”

“Captain, calm down.” Yeosang grips his wrist tightly, and it’s then that Hongjoong realises that he’s trembling, hands fisted so tight that he can’t feel his fingers. “Don’t let him get to you.”

But his impassioned words seem to have struck some sort of chord in his father, because the serene smile fades from his face. His father meets his eyes calmly, voice firm.

“Blood had to be spilled for the ritual.” The man says, and Hongjoong baulks at the word ritual. The closest he’s come to anything mystical in the world has been San’s unique abilities as a healer, the thing that had come to possess Chin Hae last night, and of course... the blessing of the sea goddess. “Don’t you realise, Hongjoong? The sand that you’re standing upon right now, it’s the very same place I left you behind.”

A chill runs up Hongjoong’s back, and he whips around in a circle to confirm it. When he had been left here years ago as a child, he’d been on the verge of deathfrom bleeding out, crying out of his one remaining eye and trying understand the agonizing pain that the betrayal of his only family had left in his heart. Now that he takes a second look, he sees a terrifyingly familiar palm tree that was stained red in his memory, remembers how golden sand was soaked crimson in his blood. He remembers the way the waves had risen and fallen, and the way she had emerged from the sea to stand on dry land-

“Why would you do something as sick as that?” Wooyoung hisses, and it’s then that Hongjoong sees the shotgun already locked and loaded in his gunner’s hands. Hongjoong doesn’t blame him, just being in his father’s presence makes his hairs stand on the end, his fight or flight reflexes kicking in desperately. “What ritual? You mean you’re one of those disgusting bastards who believe in sacrificing their children or whatever?”

Hongjoong feels sick to the pit of his stomach. He just wants to leave, to escape before he hears anything more. But his father opens his mouth to speak, and Hongjoong can’t bring himself move.

“A ritual to summon the gods themselves.”

Hongjoong freezes. “Gods?” The words come out strangled, choked in his throat. The sea goddess who had risen from the sea to save him and gave him her blessing... that was his father’s doing?

“This very place was where I met the sea goddess, years before you were even born.” His father says, and coldness creeps over his body, liquid ice burning cold in every vein as his father’s words ring in his ears. “I was on the verge of death myself after a massive sea storm, and when I came to I was alone... and my crew... lost to the waves.”

Hongjoong remembers this story. It had only been told once, out of the hundreds of sea legends and fantasies that his father had told him while the sailboat beneath them rocked gently on the waves.

“You must have been an amazing captain when you were younger, dad!” Hongjoong had turned behind to grin brightly at his father as the sailboat rose over another wave. “You’re so calm even when I’m scared! You don’t seem to be afraid of the big storms at all! That’s why you’re the chief commander of the Royal Navy, right?”

Hongjoong’s father had continued smiling, but even though Hongjoong had only been a boy then, he could see the way his father’s eyes fixed on a horizon far away, lost in his memories and his smile fading slightly from his face.

“The sea is a dangerous mistress,” his father had said softly, releasing one hand on the rudder to place it on Hongjoong’s head, a comforting weight. “That’s why it’s the captain’s role to guide his crew safely through any storm. As a captain, your first loyalty is to your crew. It’s a bond almost as strong as that of blood ties.” He ruffled Hongjoong’s hair so affectionately the boy couldn’t help but giggle. “Have you heard the saying, ‘a captain goes down with his ship’?”

“That sounds scary...” Hongjoong had shivered, hunkering down in the boat, slightly scared at the thought of falling into the sea. “What does it mean?”

Hongjoong’s father smiled at him. “It means that the captain holds ultimate responsibility for every member of his crew, and every person on board his ship. In an emergency, he will do everything in his power to save them, or give his life trying.” His voice turned slightly hoarse, and Hongjoong, perceptive even as a child, frowned at his father. “Dad, what’s wrong?”

His father had blinked, before he shook his head and gave his son a reassuring smile. “So, there’s no need to be scared, Hong. On this boat, if I’m the captain, who’s my crew?”

“Me!” Hongjoong yelled excitedly, throwing both hands into the air. “Me! I’m dad’s crew!”

His father’s eyes had softened.

“That’s right, my little map.” He pulled Hongjoong into an embrace with one arm, and Hongjoong threw both arms around his father, hugging him tight. “You... will definitely grow up and understand what it means to become a better captain than I ever was. I’m sorry I won’t be there to see it.”

“Dad?” Hongjoong hesitated, pulling away to look at his father in the eyes. Green met green, and his father smiled. “I don’t want to become a captain if it means leaving dad behind. I wanna be dad’s crew! Dad’s gonna be my captain forever!”

His father’s smile was stained with tears at the corner of his eyes.

“Dad’s crew... is already gone. There’s no one like them, and there will never be any like them ever again.” His father hugged Hongjoong harder. “That’s why I’m sorry you’ll endure so much for your selfish father’s sake and his failure.”

That day on, his father had never once mentioned his crew ever again.

But Hongjoong hadn’t been a fool. It hadn’t taken much for him to figure out as he grew older just what his father had meant by failure: failure as a captain, who was supposed to ensure the safety of his crew above all others. He had survived while the rest of his crew had died.

The captain goes down with his ship.

The very same philosophy that Hongjoong has never managed to shake, even if it had been his father who’d said those words. The same principles he lived and breathed by, to be a good captain, just like his father had said he would.

“Why me?” Hongjoong finally asks, his voice breaking. Yeosang and Wooyoung both turn to glance at him at the sound of his words wavering, fist clenched so tightly that his entire arm is trembling. “What exactly did you do to me? Why did you shoot me and leave me on this island to die? What exactly did you want with the gods that was worth killing me?”

“Hongjoong, I never meant to kill you. If I truly wanted you dead, you wouldn’t be standing here alive right now, because I would have simply shot you in the heart and left you dead.” His father says, so serious that it can’t be anything but the truth. “But your blood had to be spilled to call the sea goddess, because only you would be able to find her.”

“Me?” Hongjoong trembles, trying to deny it. “I don’t have anything to do with the gods. I didn’t even know they existed until-”

“Hongjoong.” His father cuts him off, soft voice so commanding Hongjoong falls silent instantly. “You were created with the essence of the sea. The blood of the sirens, the essence and life the sea holds, it flows in your veins. I made you with my own flesh and blood, Hongjoong. Just like the way water always finds its way back to the sea, I knew that you would be the map and the compass to my goal. You’re my son who I love, Hongjoong. I would never want to hurt you.”

Hongjoong stumbles backwards, and his knees feel weak. Is this how you felt when you had found out that you were made of clay? Perhaps he understands that now. He can’t seem to find his voice, head spinning and dizzy. He was made. Yet he can tell, knows the love his father held for him was real, and perhaps that is the most devastating thing of all.

“What do you want with the sea goddess?” Hongjoong manages to croak. He remembers the being that had taken over you last night, with its haunting, ancient blue eyes, the way it had tried to kill him in order to save Chin Hae’s life. What would his father want with something like that?

His father’s next words sends a chill down his spine.

“I’m going to kill the sea goddess.” He says calmly, mismatched eyes meeting Hongjoong’s with such intensity that his breath catches in his throat. “I’m going to become the god of the sea, and bring my crew back, no matter what it costs me.

Because I’m their captain, and they’re my crew.”

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #hongjoong #seonghwa #yunho #yeosang #san #mingi #wooyoung #jongho #ateez pirate king #w; ot8 #w; pirate king #w; fanfiction

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goldenkamuyhunting · 3 years

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Ramblings and crazy theory time about GK chap 267 “Severed”

So we have a new chapter that deals with a painful topic...

...which is nothing else but Wilk’s betrayal of Kiro and of their cause.

We resume the story with… well a flashback showing Kiro writing a letter to Sofia while they were in Karafuto.

We see a glimpse of Ogata behind him, teasing us readers who’re wondering WHERE IN THE WORLD HE IS CURRENTLY AND WHAT THE HELL HE’S DOING as it’s from chap 261 we’ve no info on him and this silence is worrisome.

I love how Noda divided the page in three panels, the top one showing Kiro, while the lower one showing Sofia (Svetlana behind her mirroring how Ogata was behind Kiro) with Akou prison parting them, mirroring how it was the prison who was keeping them parted back then.

Above the images we’ve the content of the letter Kiro is writing.

He’s basically telling her that it might be too early to talk about what happened between him and Wilk in those years with Asirpa, which is why he’s writing it to her.

So, once in Hokkaido he and Wilk parted ways, searching for info about the gold. Their plan was to mix witht he local Ainu and integrate among them so as to get info more easily.

Poor Inkarmat likely got involved with Wilk during this period.

In the end, to better do this, Wilk married and had a daughter.

The following page shows the cover of the chapter, that carefully mirror the cover of chap 256. In chap 256 we had Tsurumi/Hasegawa with his family, while in this chapter we’ve Wilk with his family, each of them in the same exact position as they were in the Hasegawa picture.

In a way it’s kind of painful to place one image next to the other.

Two men, two fathers with their beloved daughters and wives.

Tsurumi lost his family and blamed Wilk for it, Wilk, who made his own family, who had a daughter like Tsurumi, who was among the Hokkaido Ainu trying to discover where they hid their gold, like a spy in short, like Tsurumi.

There’s a huge parallel between these two men and, in a way, I think for Tsurumi the real enemy has never been Hijikata or Sugimoto or Ogata.

He’s still fighting Wilk’s ghost, Wilk who still lives in his own daughter where Tsurumi’s daughter is long dead.

It’s a tragedy, in a way.

But there’s another parallel between them.

They both married to better integrate with the local... but the marriage that was meant to be merely a toll, ultimately caused them to love the daughter who was born out of it and their wife.

They thought to use it to further their goals and, instead, were changed by it. They, who prized themselves so much for their control over the situation and their emotions, lost control.

Anyway let’s go on.

Wilk’s expression as he holds Asirpa impresses Kiro, it was an expression of gentleness he never saw before on Wilk’s face.

This page too is cleverly constructed.

On the top panel we’ve Kiro, with a not pleased expression. As he blamed Wilk’s change to Asirpa’s birth, it’s easy to speculate that seeing such expression on Wilk’s face worried him, it made him think Wilk might not remain loyal to their cause.

On the lower panel there’s Tsurumi.

He also doesn’t look pleased, but likely for different reasons from Kiro. He knows what Wilk might have felt holding his daughter, he know he might have felt the same he had felt when he had held Olga... but the thing probably burned him. The man whom he viewed as the cause of his loss had the chance to hold his own daughter, a daughter Tsurumi can’t hold anymore.

In the middle, parting Kiro from Tsurumi there are three panels, one is the one of the church, that divides the flashback from the present time, and the two below it shows, one the inside of the church with Tsurumi, Sofia and Asirpa, Tsurumi though completely a dark shadow and the other Asirpa’s face as she heard her father, holding her, made an expression Kiro had never seen on his face.

Asirpa seems happy of hearing this, of hearing his father looked at her with a gentle expression he never had before, her eyes shining and her checks slightly redded.

In a way she’s in the middle of those two men, for Kiro she’s the cause of Wilk’s change, for Tsurumi she represents Wilk’s gain at the expenses of his own loss, as well as the embodiment on Wilk’s will.

The story continues.

The flashback moves forward of some more years.

We’re told that a strange rumor starts being spread, the rumour of the discovery of an old Ainu man who was supposed to have died of smallpox (remember? There was a smallpox epidemic in which Cikapasi’s whole family died), and who was instead living alone in the mountains.

Tsurumi suggests the guy could have been Kimuspu, one of the Ainu who were involved in the attempt to buy weapons from Russia with the gold 50 years before and who, therefore, knows where the gold is.

Tsurumi explains that they too got the same info (though he doesn’t tell them HOW they got it), the image showing him, Kikuta, Usami, Tsukishima and Ogata (hinting how they were all involved in Tsurumi’s Ainu plan) and that they were in the 1902.

Now… a little break here.

The summer of 1902 is the summer in which Tsurumi staged Koito’s kidnapping.

If Asirpa’s dream is reliable Wilk told her his name when it was snowing. Asirpa said that after telling her his name her father went away, implying this was the last time she saw him.

We’ll see Wilk later on in the flashback and his beard is shorter than in Asirpa’s memory.

This might mean that between the discovery of Kimuspu’s body and Wilk’s death time went by. The Ainu aren’t dressed so heavily it suggests we are in winter, but neither so lightly it suggests we’re in summer (Kiro has his undershirt, which he didn’t wear in summer). This means this either happened in spring or in autumn.

We’ll see if the next chapter will tell us more and why when this happened might be relevant… for now let’s just say this seems to hint that Wilk’s death happened in the last months of that year and not in the first.

This, of course, if Asirpa’s dream/memory is reliable.

Anyway, let’s go on.

Kiro continues his narration, telling how this discovery changed the situation radically.

We move then to Noboribetsu where Wilk is having a reunion with 6 more Ainu

Yeah, Noboribetsu is the place where there was the hot spring in which Toni Anji was investigating and Kikuta and Ariko recovering. It’s also the place near which there was Ariko’s village, and it might even be they’re having their reunion in Ariko’s house.

This might also explain what Toni Anji was doing there, that place could have been the place in which Hijikata suspected the gold was hidden, hence he sent Toni to check it. The gold could very well be hidden in the same old mine in which Toni escaped or in a similar one as Ariko said there were others and he went to explore them when he was younger.

It’s entirely possible Hijikata had Boutarou’s same idea but Hijikata found sooner about Noboribetsu and went there to investigate. Maybe he talked to Ariko’s mom and, from her, discovered about Ariko being the son of one of the men involved.

If that’s the case, I’m pleased.

I’ve always wondered WHY Toni Anji was in Noboribetsu as it seemed weird he was there just to investigate on Tsurumi’s men.

But let’s go back to the story and to the conversation Wilk has with the others.

Wilk asks to Siromakur, who’s clearly Ariko’s father if his skin tone, eyes and eyebrows are meant to be taken as a reference, if he couldn’t ask Kimuspu the location of the gold.

So Ariko’s dad is the one who met met Kimuspu.

Now, remember how I said Tsurumi didn’t say how he got info about Kimuspu?

In hindsight this makes me wonder if Tsurumi has a man among the Ainu because if a rumour about this Ainu man being found spread, it should have spread among Ainu, not Wajin. They should have known him, known he was involved with the gold and known he was assumed to have died of smallpox.

Those aren’t info they would have shared with the Wajins.

Whatever, let’s go on.

Siromakur says the man didn’t want to talk with him so another Ainu, Mesira, suggests they should track him down and 'convince’ him to talk.

This worries me because it implies they might end up being forceful with him.

Sure, partisans in all the countries, despite claiming to stand with the local population, hardly had qualms in forcing the population to cooperate should they decide they didn’t want to align with the partisans’ wishes... and partisans are fighting a war, a war with different means but always a war and wars are dirty things but... but it always rubbed me the wrong way because while soldiers go at war merely because they obey orders, partisans claim they chose to go at war for ideals that include protecting people...

...and then sacrifice the people they wanted to protect.

It kind of reminds me of a dark joke popular in my country about this kind of people.

“Against violence, bullying, suffering we must all be united... and if someone doesn’t agree, we'll kill him.”

...because yeah, when they said they’re against violence they were talking of violence perpetrated by OTHER PEOPLE, they’re completely in favour of violence perpetrated by them...

Sukuta wonders if someone else, apart the 7 of them, knows about Kimuspu. As Irenka, another Ainu who so far hadn’t spoken, looks at Siromakur, the latter admits he talked about it with several people but didn't tell them where Kimuspu was.

Great move, Ariko’s dad, now we know who might have spread the rumour until it reached Tsurumi’s (and Kiro’s) ears. -_-

Do you want the news to be reported on newspapers too?

Just to make sure everyone knows....

Ratci, who seems to be the older among them and therefore the only one who has a chance to be the older brother of the old Ainu Boutarou met since the guy was supposedly one of those who died in the incident, comments Kimuspu was living deep in the mountains without anyone knowing, so he couldn't be found easily.

Oskeporo, who somehow reminds me of Kirawus, although his eyebrows looks more like Cikapasi’s, comments they too could have problems tracking Kimuspu.

Siromakur tells them he knows where he sets his arrow traps so they can wait him there. At this they decide to go find Kimuspu before others will track him down.

It’s clear they’re searching the old guy because they’re interested in the gold.

However, as they’re about to leave, Kiro shows up and demands explanations from Wilk. He’s clearly angry if his expression, his tone of voice and his clenched fists can be taken as a hint, and wants to know why Wilk hadn’t called him.

Did Ariko’s dad tattled out the discovery of Kimuspu to Kiro as well?

Great move, Ariko’s dad, really. -_-

What about informing Russia about it as well now?

They might want to know too...

Wilk tell the other Ainu to go ahead. As he does so, in his same panel we can see Ariko’s father and Mesira, who was the guy who wanted them to ‘convince’ Kimuspu to talk. They seem to accept it.

In another panel we see Sukuta and Osikepor. Sukuta seems just worried, Osikepor is clearly not pleased, a frown on his face but all he says is a line of dots.

Once they’re alone Kiro again, loudly demands some explanation and Wilk informs him he has decided they need to change plans, that his Far East Federation would be too wide to protect from Russia if they were to count on minorities alone, but if they were to make only Hokkaido, which is encircled by the sea, independent, they could manage it.

Now, please, let me facepalm.

Yeah, an island is a bit easier to protect than the huge land Wilk originally planned to involve, part of which was attached to Russia, but not that much it makes it an inexpugnable fortress.

The Far East Federation was a pure utopia but this is really no that much better.

They would then need to find another Russian captain willing to sell them weapons and warships, get some Ainu who know how to handle them all, chase away the 7th division who, by then is residing in Hokkaido along with all those military settlers who has stopped serving the army, beat the Ominato fleet and then whatever fleet Japan would send against them.

In case Japan were to give up on re-conquering Hokkaido they would have then hope that Russia wouldn’t try to do it or wouldn’t join forces with Japan in exchange for some compensations. Or that China wouldn’t lend a hand in place of Russia in exchange for compensations.

In short, yeah, you’ve less land to defend and it’s a little harder to get there but not by much considering how Kiro’s group could even cross the La Pérouse Strait on a small boat and Asirpa did it by walking on drift ice.

We’ve no info on how the Tsugaru strait was crossed back then but it’s half than the La Pérouse Strait, so Hokkaido can be attacked easily by two points and with a little more work as it would require a longer boat trip, from other points as Hokkaido’s coast is approximately 4,183 kilometres which is quite a bit to guard.

Islands had been conqueered through all the centuries, it’s not like the thing is unprecendented so really, Hokkaido might be slightly more difficult to attack but it’s not such a stronghold Wilk can hope to defend it with his meagre forces.

Of course things would be slightly different if Wilk were to plan to join hands with Tsurumi who, in that same year, managed to have Koito Heiji indebted to him and who has professional soldiers under him.

If Wilk’s state and Tsurumi’s state were to overlap this would provide them more tactical advantages. This, assuming Tsurumi wouldn’t, once he got control of the gold, kick the Ainu out of the deal.

But we don’t know if Wilk and Tsurumi know each other is in Hokkaido and, at this point, I’m not sure these two chessmasters would shake hands in an allegiance.

Anyway Kiro’s furious at the new plan.

We jump back into the present where Tsurumi explains to Asirpa the benefits of Wilk’s plan… or better how his plan diverged from the one of Sofia and Kiro’s which is something that would end up promoting discord between Wilk and his own allies.

(It’s also worth to remember that Sofia in truth wasn’t a partisan, she was a revolutionary who cared about the Russian population. Hokkaido Ainu are considered Japanese so it’s unlikely she would be interested in them. Wilk’s plan basically meant he will let her to her own devices... great way to handle your allies Wilk.)

Tsurumi claims he understands Wilk’s plan, and of course he does as he plans to do the same but Tsurumi is much better organized, with better men, connections, inside knowledge, trusted allies and back up plans to support his country so Tsurumi’s chances of success are WAY HIGHER than Wilk, despite his plan remaining very hard to pursue successfully.

Meanwhile we go back to the flashback.

Predictably Kiro sees Wilk’s idea as a betrayal. Wilk came up with such plan without discussing it with him or Sofia and it’s a plan that is not beneficial to the other minorities, the minorities to whom Kiro belongs or has grown to care about who live in Karafuto or in Russia, just to the Hokkaido Ainu.

Wilk says according to him they should migrate in Hokkaido and he would be willing to welcome them there, which again, is naïve.

For start he’s not the ruler of Hokkaido. The migrants might end up being seen by the Hokkaido population as no better than the Wajin, never mentioning he’s just asking to all those people to leave their lands and move there.

It’s similar to Hijikata’s plan but Hijikata at least didn’t have to really care for the migrants he wanted to welcome, nor for their living style. For him they were just an usable commodity. Wilk should care about them instead and yet he’s not.

Still, I love how cleverly this page is constructed.

We’ve three panels.

The two above show Kiro and Wilk and their contrasting positions.

The visual pins them as contrasting in every possible way, Kiro is angry, Wilk is calm, Kiro is seen frontally, Wilk from behind. With their images Noda is setting up the premise for the fight between them that will follow.

The line that divides the two panels might as well be the fracture between them.

On the bottom we see Kiro’s reaction to Wilk’s world. Wilk’s words only upset Kiro further.

It’s meaningful how we see only the top of his head, his hands holding it, everything shaded by a swirling shade, hinting at the many thoughts that should infest Kiro’s mind in that moment.

It gives me the feeling Kiro feels his world too is wirling and he’s desperately trying to keep it together, to make sense of it and can’t.

Wilk is the person he loved, trusted and admired the most and now Wilk comes out with... this? How is that even possible?

Kiro reminds Wilk of how his birth village disappeared and his people died due to them being forced to leave the land.

Wilk is unaffected by this, he’s sure since they know why the first time things went wrong, they wouldn’t make mistakes this time.

Sure, failed immigration attempts plague us in moder times as well but Wilk would have managed to magically solve them all, Wilk could do everything better, Wilk knows.

WILK CAN YOU PLEASE COME BACK DOWN ON PLANET EARTH FOR A CHANGE? YOU AREN’T THE GOD OF A BRAVE NEW WORLD, YOU DON’T KNOW HOW TO SOLVE IT! YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW HOW TO MANAGE YOUR LITTLE REBELLION OR HOLD CLOSE YOUR ALLIES OR PERSUADE THEM YOU’RE RIGHT! EITHER YOU’VE A SECRET BACK UP PLAN OR HOW YOU’LL SAY TO KIRO YOU’LL ACCOMPLISH IS BEYOND DUMB AND NAIVE! PLEASE, STOP!

Ahem... okay, back with the story.

Kiro then points out how the Uilta wouldn’t be able to continue their lifestyle as Hokkaido is too warm to keep reindeers so they can’t protect their culture in Hokkaido.

Wilk waves the problem off, saying they would accept only who wants to move there.

In short if the Uilta don’t want to move because this would mean to change their lifestyle… well, their problem.

So yes, it’s a betrayal of their cause, their cause that was about protecting all those minorities and their lifestiles.

Wilk belonged to a group, a group who wanted to take care of all those minorities. He can’t just arbitrarily decide that some of them don’t matter and it’s their problem.

It would be different if he had said ‘let’s fix the Hokkaido Ainu, let’s start from here and then spread, we can’t help the Uilta RIGHT NOW, but once we’ve consolidate our forces we will, we’re postponing, not giving up.’

Instead he’s giving up.

He should have talked with the others, he should have proposed Hokkaido as a starting point, not as the solution. Let’s free Hokkaido, strengthen our defences there and then move to free the rest... as Tsurumi is planning to do.

For Tsurumi is first Hokkaido then Vladivostok.

For Wilk it could have been first Hokkaido then Karafuto, then the rest. A step at time.

It was still an utopia but it wouldn’t be betrayal of his teammates and they could have accepted it. It would have made sense.

Instead Wilk didn’t discuss things, he just decided them behind his companions’ back without talking with them because he’s Wilk and knows what’s better to do.

Really, I see a lot of parallels with Sugimoto because I’m sure Wilk too is persuaded he meant well... but he’s actually deciding things arbitrarily for others, looking more at his own advantage than at theirs.

Kiro accuses him of not caring about the Russian minorities because Wilk’s goal is now merely to protect his daughter’s future as she’s an Hokkaido Ainu.

Wilk insists his method is just the most realistic.

This part is again well constructed as it again represent the split between them.

Below the image of Wilk saying that only who wants to immigrate should do it we’ve on one side a panel with Kiro, accusing Wilk of selfishly caring only about Asirpa.

On the other we’ve two panels, one of Asirpa and one of Wilk, Asirpa’s panel taking most of the space.

Although Wilk insists he’s taking the most realistic path, it’s clear Asirpa weightens a lot on his decision... and in the future Asirpa is there to listen how she ultimately caused the division between those two friends just by... existing.

At this point though, the discussion takes a really ugly turn.

Kiro, who back then likely wasn’t married yet, remarks that it’s Hokkaido who actually has nothing to do with them, and that Wilk is caring about it merely because he now has a lovely family there.

The page is split in two. On one panel there’s Kiro and Wilk, this time together, on the other there’s Asirpa who’s ‘listening’ to the discussion they’re having, who’s called to hear of their actions and judge them.

And we make a break because we’ve a problem here and I wonder if Asirpa has caught up with it as well.

I stand by Kiro when he says Wilk’s plan is a betrayal of the other minorities and of his companions and therefore a pretty dirty move.

But they were planning to buy their freedom by using the Hokkaido Ainu gold. Now, unless they planned to steal from them, the Hokkaido Ainu should have mattered as well, they have something to do with them, they’re a minority too who deserves to be protected and of whom they wanted to use the resources and the support.

Hokkaido has everything to do with them if they want to involve it in their war and not just profit from it... which probably was exactly what they, deep down, meant to do since both Kiro and Wilk didn’t come to Hokkaido with the most honest intentions but disguised themselves among its people to try and find info about the gold.

So the discussion reveals that below those men’s oh so pure ideals, there’s something else, something else that’s not pure and selfless at all.

Self interest.

And Trurumi translates this in words for Asirpa.

Right from the start both Kiro and Wilk had two goals.

One was the noble one they presented to the world, protect the minorities.

The other was the more human one, protect whose they loved.

More often than not, expecially when interacting with a story, people tend to think other people/characters are moved solely by ONE SINGLE GOAL.

That’s not really true, people is usually moved by multiple goals.

both goals existed in both Kiro and Wilk but they presented to the world only one, the noble one, and kept the other hidden in their heart.

That’s because the world could understand and support the noble goal but would scoff at the other goal... yet the other goal is probably much more important to them than the other one.

In fact things are breaking among them EXACTLY due to that other goal being denied.

Their priority is that other goal, the noble goal exists... but comes second best and will never come first.

Tsurumi’s words reflect his own situation as well.

He too has a noble goal, to conqueer Hokkaido for the men of the 7th... a goal that to him is real and that he wants to reach... but he also has a much more private goal, which is tied to the loss of his family.

The existance of this goal doesn’t deny the existance of the previous goal. They both exists, it’s just he presents only one because only one would be considered acceptable and give him support... and also because the other is personal, private.

Something that holds in his heart but doesn’t dare to voice.

Tsukishima, outside of the room, hear all this and is impressed (we can see that on his face there aren’t anymore signs of anger) as he likely understood this can be applied to Tsurumi as well.

Tsukishima has naively believed Tsurumi has to have only one single goal, either he was fighting for the men of the 7th or he was fighting due to his own family but that’s not the case.

Tsurumi can as well fight both for creating a military state in Hokkaido for the men of the 7th but also for the people he loved and while the people he loved would be his main motive this wouldn’t make his second reason untrue.

Kiro, in an agry and distraught face reminds Wilk of how Sofia is still waiting for them in Russia, before attacking Wilk, who fight him back.

While back then it was all about what moved Wilk, now this page is all about what moves Kiro. He loved Sofia, not just the minorities.

He can’t bear the idea to sacrifice her, he’ll fight for her.

For her he’ll fight Wilk whom he admired and loved so much.

Asirpa understands all this.

While his father wanted to protect the minorities but, ultimately, prioritized her, Kiro too loved and wanted to protect the minorities, he was angry on their behalf but, more than everything, he loved and wanted to protect Sofia, Sofia, who was the last word he said before dying.

She explains Kiro’s feelings to Sofia and it’s so terribly sad to think back at how Kiro killed Wilk for her, because Wilk would just dump her and yet Sofia was still so in love with him when she met Kiro again she slapped him because he killed Wilk.

The pain Kiro should have felt in that moment... he just took the slap and didn’t counter, didn’t say anything. He killed Wilk FOR HER, it hurts him to kill Wilk and yet he couldn’t tell any of this...

... and, at the same time, he didn’t regret any of this. For her he would kill Wilk all over again.

Meanwhile, in the flashback we can see that the winner of the fight is Wilk... which was predictable enough, not because we knew Wilk was the better fighter (we didn’t) but because Kiro attacked him in blind rage, while Wilk managed to stay calm and, apparently, catch him in a strangle hold, suffucating him and causing him to lose consciousness.

That’s why Wilk walks away all bruised while Kiro, despite ending up on the ground, seems in better conditions.

Asirpa suggests her father might not have said the truth to Kiro because he knew Kiro loved Sofia.

It makes sense but it’s not a great justification because it’s the admission Wilk knew he was betraing them.

Kiro was allied with Wilk for a reason, Wilk knew that reason and so he tried to do things behind Kiro’s back because he wasn’t going to respect the deal he had with Kiro and Sofia, knowing Kiro wouldn’t agree to it.

Now... okay, as I said before it’s possible that Wilk is actually in an alliance with Tsurumi as well, or that he suspects Tsurumi has spies in his group so he’s serving Kiro a fake story but let’s assume he’s being sincere.

Wilk might claim and claim this is more rational, and maybe he even believes he’s doing all this because it’s more rational and not for his daughter, maybe he’s in denial about his own true reason so really, he thinks he’s choosing the best option... but the fact he knew Kiro wouldn’t accept it, hints at how deep down Wilk should have known it was betrayal.

Yet, it’s still possible Wilk wasn’t consciously aware of it, that he was lying even to himself.

We’ve seen this kind of betrayals through the story, with the character doing the deed not realizing he was betraying the other party but thinking he was picking up the best option for everyone.

Sugimoto sold Asirpa to Tsurumi, demanding money solely for himself and not caring about Shiraishi’s fate. By doing so HE BELIEVED he was protecting Asirpa (he wasn’t) and that Shiraishi should have just spontaneously given up to his own share of gold. Sugimoto could have realized this, but he preferred to think he was doing the right thing for everyone.

Asirpa decided to join forces with Hijikata because she believed it would be a better option for them. By doing so SHE BELIEVED she was chosing the better option for everyone as an alliance would give them more chances of success and Hijikata has a better future in mind, but in truth she basically demanded from Boutarou to give up on his goal as Hijikata’s goal and Boutarou’s are mutually exclusive. Asirpa could have realized this (though I tend to give her a pass because she’s young but really, Boutarou pointed out he wanted to fulfill his goal too many times to miss it, and even if she still were due to her young age, Sugimoto and Shiraishi should have realized and give her a head up), but he preferred to think he was doing the right thing for everyone.

Tsukishima, for most of the story, is not fighting Tsurumi’s orders but just agreeing with Tsurumi’s methods of deception of the other characters, because HE BELIEVED they will lead everyone to be saved. Practically he’s lying to Koito and denying Tanigaki the chance to opt out, attempting to force everyone in the 7th to betray Central. Tsukishima could have realized this, but he preferred to think he was doing the right thing for everyone.

Long story short those people didn’t see their behaviour as betrayal but as pursuing the better option for themselves and the others, expecting the others to just agree with them.

Wilk’s behaviour, the fact he insists he’s picking up the better option as if he’s trying to persuade himself more than Kiro, reminds me of them, of people who were stubbornly thinking they were doing the right thing, they were picking the best option, when they actually were walking all over their friends, neglecting them and their goals in favour of a goal they prioritized.

But, back to the story, as soon as Asirpa tells Sofia that Kiro’s problem was that he loved Sofia so he couldn’t just leave her behind, Sofia lowers her head, her eyes wet.

She loved Wilk... but, in her own way she loved Kiro also, whom she saw as a little brother. It should pain her greatly to know in the end she was the reason that pushed Kiro to kill Wilk, that caused the split between them... even if this isn’t all true. As said, the goal to protect the minorities still existed in Kiro... but Sofia was the drop that broke the camel's back.

Also I get Asirpa meant well, she wants to deliver Kiro’s feelings and, at the same time, defend her father’s actions but that wasn’t probably the best moment to deliver Kiro’s feelings since Sofia was already shaken by how she was facing Tsurumi/Hasegawa... as for defending Wilk’s actions... honestly she only end up as painting him as calculative.

Because Wilk knew Kiro wouldn’t have agreed with his plan, he worked behind his back. I’m not sure Asirpa realizes though, she likely is buying the narrative in which Wilk’s choice was mainly for the greater good as well as her, while the order of the things was completely reverse and the plan was so dumb I can’t believe Wilk came up with it.

Anyway as a battered Wilk walks away we can see a Kiro tied to a tree coming to his sense with a murderous expression on his face.

Kiro sees even the fact Wilk has left him alive as a betrayal, not as of regret that he has actually betrayed his friend and can’t just bear to kill him.

Kiro tells himself the Wilk of the past would have killed Kiro, since Kiro was an obstacle to his purpose. Yet Wilk has left him alive which, to Kiro, proves Wilk has changed and isn’t anymore the Wilk he loved.

This makes me wonder if Kiro actually would have preferred to be killed, if this could have made him swallow the bitter pill Wilk betrayed them, if, in his furious mind, this would have been a proof that Wilk really believed they couldn’t do any better than conquer Hokkaido and then relocate everyone there.

Kiro has said he blindly trusted the old Wilk.

In a way the fact that Wilk, whom he loved and admired so blindly, betrayed their cause and tried to work behind his back should have hurt him terribly. That betrayal is the fall of a hero and, in a sense, Kiro tries to compensate by ‘denying that new Wilk’.

The ‘new’ Wilk is no more the Wilk he loved, therefore he’s no more Wilk, his friend. It makes sense he decided to kill that Wilk, who has turned into a stranger to him, no, worse, into an enemy, an enemy of their cause and an enemy who would sacrifice the people Kiro loved for his own goals.

So, clearly Wilk had to die because he betrayed their cause... but, since we’re talking of people doing things for more than one motive, I wonder if it’s also possible Kiro wanted him destroyed because Wilk wasn’t Wilk anymore, as if the new Wilk killed the old Wilk he loved.

This kind of remind me “The Return of the Jedy”

Luke Skywalker: Ben! Why didn't you tell me? You told me that Darth Vader betrayed and murdered my father.

Obi-Wan: Your father... was seduced by the Dark Side of the Force. He ceased to be the Jedi Anakin Skywalker and "became" the Sith Darth Vader. When that happened, the good man who was your father was destroyed. So, what I told you was true... from a certain point of view.

Luke Skywalker: A certain point of view?

Obi-Wan: Luke, you're going to find that many of the truths we cling to depend greatly on our own point of view. Anakin was a good friend. When I first met him, your father was already a great pilot. But I was amazed how strongly the Force was with him. I took it upon myself to train him as a Jedi. I thought that I could instruct him just as well as Yoda. I was wrong.

Luke Skywalker: There is still good in him.

Obi-Wan: He's more machine now than man. Twisted and evil.

Luke Skywalker: I can't do it, Ben.

Obi-Wan: You cannot escape your destiny. You must face Darth Vader again.

Luke Skywalker: I can't kill my own father.

Obi-Wan: Then the Emperor has already won. You were our only hope.

Kiro is Obi-Wan, who believes Wilk ceased to be ‘the Wilk he loved’ and became ‘that Wilk’ and when that happened, the good man who was Wilk was destroyed so, like Obi-Wan, he thinks ‘that Wilk’ has to be killed (by Luke/Ogata).

Contrary to him, Sofia is more like Luke Skywalker. She didn’t agree with Kiro’s idea they had to kill Wilk and slapped Kiro for what he did.

In all this though, it’s interesting Wilk left Kiro alive.

I’ve mentioned that other situations, similar to this one, happened in the story but this is the first in which the two parties confront each other BEFORE the deed his done. It would be interesting to know if his conversation with Kiro affected him, it made him realize his best option wasn’t so good and so right after all.

Wilk was still in time to change his mind, to go back on being the Wilk Kiro loved... or at least fix his plan so that it would include Kiro’s goals as well hence he might not have wanted to ruin everything by killing Kiro.

Wilk was still in time to try and patch things between them so maybe, albeith he had to leave right then, he left Kiro alive because he wanted to make up, to fix things between them, because he realized he wronged Kiro and didn’t want that.

But well, this is something we’ll discover in the next chapter.

On a sidenote is interesting how Kiro ties the fact that Wilk has changed to Wilk being irrational. The old Wilk was rational, the old Wilk would sacrifice companions because it was rationally the best choice and Kiro believed him.

This new Wilk leave him alive, which is not the best choice, therefore he’s being irrational, he’s being motivated by emotions, therefore even his choice to care only about Hokkaido is motivated merely by emotions, is not rational and shouldn’t be trusted.

It’s surely a convolute mental gimmik but it’s interesting because it’s totally a reasoning a person can do, especially when burning with blind rage... but well, Kiro is being emotional himself and, probably, not even realizing it.

Noda made great characters with them... but their situation is so sad it hurts and even mroe so because we know is hopeless.

Kiro will kill Wilk and will never get to understand his side and neither of them will ever manage to make peace with the other. Such a long friendship ended up in ashes and all for something that should be supposedly positive, the fact they loved someone.

It’s sad.

It’s sad that their friendship ended, it’s sad they didn’t manage to respect each otehr feelings and come up with a solution that would make them both satisfied.

It’s so very sad...

37 notes · View notes

singeramg · 4 years

Note

Are you still doing request for your 500 followers celebration ? If you are I would like to request Nr 4 “Is there a reason you are here?” With Walter Marshall 😊

Oh wow, it seemed this one was supposed to be easy and short. Nope. Didn’t happen that way so here’s part one of three. I hope that you like it and thats much for participating in this!

Title: The Heart Fate Breaks - Part I

Rating: M

Pairing: Walter Marshall ( Nomis/ Night Hunter) / Reader!

Warnings: ANGST!, Implied Alcohol Abuse, Mentions of illegal activity, implied depression, deception, kidnapping, descriptions of violence, but not completely detailed, loss of pregnancy, and of course smut.

A/n: This is my first attempt at Walter Marshall so if he seems to ooc, then let me know ( kindly please), Also there are gifs scattered through this piece and that is because that is how I am imagining him aging throughout the story. Sorry if seeing other Henry Characters throws you off too bad. If I get too many complaints about it I will take them out. Thanks for giving this a chance

Part 1: The end is always closer than you think:

This had been a long time coming. Fated is a word many would put to it. You’d spent so much time crying over this man, imagining what the reaction would be once you saw him again that you lost many nights of sleep. Nobody knew the hurt you felt when you realized that all of it had been a lie. That you meant nothing to him. A pawn in a lengthy game of chess all to catch someone else in his net.

You met Marshall back when you were both young, a 18 year old and a 20 something that was still trying to figure out the world. You a young idealistic type, determined to get away from a bad home life and he came in as the bad boy, riding his motorcycle, leathered up, a chip on his shoulder ready to prove to the world he was bad ass, but one look at you and he softened like a stick of butter.

Flashback:

It had been a typical Friday night. It had been one of your first college parties at least as an actual student. It had been a night of being deemed the Freshman-Fresh Meat and it seemed everywhere you turned some frat was trying to paw you in some misplaced sense of entitlement. You rebuffed many and sent them away holding your drink in hand. You’d gotten bored as the roommate you’d came with didn’t have the same ideals of coming into the party together and leaving together as your phone just dinged with a ‘don’t wait up’ text message from her. You saw a few familiar faces from your Chem. Class, and after a few moments of small talk, you were ready to go back to your dorm, and would have done except, he walked through the door.

He was the type of guy that made you pay attention to him with his tall stature and natural curls, clearly confident, despite having a baby face he was certainly older, and he somehow commanded attention and respect. It was definitely a turn on. Clearly, you weren’t the only one who noticed him as the sorority girls and other randoms from the party were conveniently finding themselves in his path. You found it interesting that he did it so smoothly, a wide smile and some sort of flirting behavior that got them to move and let him walk through the crowd. Some girlish part of you wanted him to notice you. You wanted him to see you above all the petty makeup and unclothed bodies. It was unlikely to happen so just as you tossed back the rest of the beer from your red solo cup, losing sight of the gorgeous man and settled for tossing the cup in the overflowing trash. You give a few halfhearted goodbyes as you head for the door but in a twist of fate, you trip over something random on the floor, well actually it was more like something was wet on the floor, but you lose even more chances of staying on your feet, by running into someone else who’d been dancing, he turns around pissed but the missing bad boy catches you in strong arms and defuses it rather quickly.

“Can’t let the prettiest girl in the room crack that face can I?”

His ego is evident in his words. It makes your eyes roll and you straighten up. Removing his hands from your hips, you dust off and step back, not letting yourself become intimidated by his height over you. You put on your armor of fake confidence when faced with an undetermined outcome of a situation. At your attempted step back he steps forward, not giving you a chance to avoid his cologne and damn him if he didn’t smell like fucking woods, and warmth and everything you liked. You ignore the errant thoughts of climbing him like a tree and push him back, but his grip only loosens, doesn’t actually release you.

“No but maybe she will crack yours if you don’t back up.”

He tosses his head back, loose curls falling away from his face, you bite a sigh at the jawline again.

“Awe is that how’d you repay a man just trying to help?”

He steps even closer but you don’t move back this time.

“Usually no, but for you I’d make an exception.”

“Here I was thinking I’d get a thank you.”

“And I was thinking I’d get personal space. Do you want me to pat you on your back, maybe a cookie?” You know you sound patronizing, but you don’t care. You weren’t ready to give up the ghost yet.

“ I’d settle for your name?”

You can’t deny the big blue eyes that were trying to form something substantial between the two of you.

“It’s Y/N.”

“A beautiful name for the equally impressive woman in front of me.” He is laying it on kind of thicker than you normally go for, but you find yourself unable to turn him away.

“Shouldn’t you return the favor?”

“ Marshall...Walker.”

He offers you and you say to him,

“ Now that we’ve got past the hard part, I must ask Is there a reason you are here? You know still in my face” noting that he was still holding you lightly, He dazzles a wide smile, sharp pointed canine teeth that screams he wants to make you his prey.

“Maybe I am just not ready to let you go.”

The cheesy line works and you let him take your hand to get another drink.

And so it began...

*End Flashback

He fell into the place as your protector, nobody ever dared to put their hands on you when he was around, nobody in your terrible family ever even let you see the dark side to what they did again. Mostly.

You weren’t stupid you knew they had been dealing and apart of gang activity for years, but honestly it kept you safe from a lot of outside forces, it just didn’t protect you from the inside.

You were in your 30s now. A decade and a half between the first time you met him and now, you’d made peace that you had done everything you could to escape the feeling of being utterly alone in the world. You were tired. You were tired of putting on a brave face, tired of setting your own standards so high that if by chance anyone could connect you to your family they’d know without a doubt that you managed to land a whole field away from the tree.

You’d had relationships since Marshall but despite everything you couldn’t find that connection in anyone else. The colors had faded with the hurt, leaving behind whispers of memories of time you’d never get back. The memories always hurt when they crashed into you. The late night walks along the creeks and bridges, the talks that lasted hours without trying, how he’d been so gentle in being your first, the way he held you in his arms every time the world got to be too much.

*Begin Flashback #2*

It was a warm summer night, thankfully a breeze came across that made the muggy night just bearable. Marshall had hit it off enough with your family that they had basically adopted him into the fold.

Well everyone except your mother, but she didn’t truly like anyone so it was no surprise he shot thinly veiled insults at Marshall, and he took it like a champ for the sake of loving you.

He worked for them, but maintained a job at the docks too, to help them. Having found time away from his job down at the docks to spend what he could with you made you feel above it all. He gave you those butterflies in your stomach, made you feel like you could accomplish anything. Despite him getting into the family business he was only doing that so that he could make enough money to take you away from this life. He’d listened when you explained how your family lived and how you tried so many times to get away but they always tracked you down and dragged you back. They barely wanted you to go to college but you’d let them know that if they wanted you quiet then letting you continue your education your way was the only option. You family had always teased you for wanting more but Marshall didn’t. He encouraged everyone of your dreams and pushed you even when you didn’t think it was possible. His duality was astounding for you to witness because he never let anything happen when you were with him, the epitome of strong, quiet, powerful type, a man of very few words, but you always knew he cared. He made sure you wanted for nothing. So when enough time had passed in your mind, you felt he was worthy of your ultimate prize.

Not a decision to come to lightly but you decided that tonight you would give Marshall what many had been hoping to get from you as a means to controlling you or to say they had the untouchable Princess of the local mob family. So many had wanted for you to choose them but you knew it was meant to be Marshall.

So here you were a warm borderline muggy summer night, spending time just outside the city in the field of a farm in Marshall’s old beat up pickup that he used for transportation, but now cleaned out and blanketed with old comforters and pillows, he’d gotten you away from the chaos of your world, somewhere no one could interfere and ruin it, and made you feel like it was just you and him.

His touches on your body were delicate as he hovered over you, small kisses and few drinks led to heavy petting and an understanding of what you wanted for yourself.

Marshall was it.

Strong hands slide up your heated flesh leaving goosebumps in their wake, folding into your hair, his body pressing yours into the bed of the pickup. Marshall kisses down your neck, peeling the fabric of your sundress off, his following yours, maybe not with the full grace of his hands because yours were shaking, but making eye contact once you lay before him assured you that this was the right choice. The right moment and when he grinds into you, making you hiss and buck into his hardness you pull him down by his curls and kiss him again. Letting him steal your breath away as he always managed to do as he pushes into you, only moments after making you climax on his tongue and fingers, beard burn forming from the stubble he was refusing to shave, from him tasting what you’d been so willingly open to giving him.

“Just breathe. Let me take care of you baby girl.”

You just hold on tightly to the back that has been putting on muscle steadily, as he kisses the side of your face, wiping tears off your skin with such a delicate touch, and eventually the pain gives way to pleasure. Holding his body against yours, thrusting into you, alternating passionate kisses on your swollen lips to your neck and chest, and letting his hands move all over you once he takes note of you calming down. He feels like he is almost too much, but he just keeps encouraging you. You are making pitiful noises but it just encourages his movement. He knows exactly what to say too as your body gives way to him.

“There’s my girl opening up for me. Taking me all in.”

He grinds for emphasis, pushing his thickness into you harder than he had been and then you moan in his ear again. Soon he is steady, but he is driving you mad, with pleasure. You mildly wondered what had taken so long to experience this, but you also know it wouldn’t be like this with anyone but him.

“M...Marshall yes.”

You feel your walls pulsing against the cock inside of you, trying to force the largeness out of forgein territory but he stays exactly where you need him, even stopping as he pushes you both toward a force stronger than both of yourselves.

“You feel so good...”

His words are like honey pouring over you slow...

*End Flashback*

It had been more than what you expected. Past the feelings of just lust, he made you feel like nothing could go wrong in this world. The hatefulness of your world, your family felt like nothing in his arms.

He made you feel like you could do anything.

That had been years ago and now you hated him for it.

You had worked so hard not to feel this weak again but one flash of his picture, years aged came across your TV screen as he received commendation from the mayor had been enough to set you on edge. You don’t know this Walter Marshall.

The longer hair and a thicker beard, he almost doesn’t look familiar, but his eyes. His eyes always gave him away to you. He’d never been able to lie to you with them and his smile.

Turned out those had been the biggest lie of them all.

You’d taken your fair share of losses over the years but you’d also gained. You’d gained a hard earned degree in social work, you’d gained a job that had taken you around the world on missions to save kids, you’d accomplished so much and yet it meant nothing because the feeling of loneliness still persisted. You just purchased a beautiful home far removed from the wasteland of empty feelings and space you grew up in but it had no life. It had no life because that life had been stolen from you so long ago.

So you go out to have a drink, maybe find a warm body to help you forget the way you felt, but somehow 1 drink turned into only one more but for some reason your head was spinning. You’d know this wasn’t you. You could handle your drinks, but by the time you could mention to anyone that it was sinister doings you were hogtied in some weirdo that had been at the bar basement. It was dark, and cold as you shivered against the concrete. The musk of wood and old damp space invaded your senses as the clothes tied around your mouth stole all the moisture from your mouth and you tried yelling to no avail. The basement door opens the weirdo comes down, his heavy weight no match for yours as he lifts you up from the floor, you kick, you scream, you fight, but he manages to drag you across the floor and down a hallway in that same basement that seems to go on forever, the end is a room. This room has a light but you wish it didn’t. The mattress is filthy and stained in various fluids that you don’t want to name. You mildly wonder if this is how you die.

How many had been in this exact same position as he handcuffs you to the gunmetal colored frame and it shakes barely holding onto your weight. You felt your face wet but you almost didn’t register that they were your tears until a raspy yet cold “my pets don’t cry. Unless I make them.”

You have to be shaking by now as the realization sets in that this was beyond simple murder, maybe beyond rape, he intended on torturing you until you thought death was the gift. You screw your eyes shut, memories of one of the other times you felt worse take over your brain and with no distractions as you normally have, you fall in head first to your own personal hell...

Begin Flashback 3

It had been a year with Marshall. A full glorious year of just being with him and him protecting you from your family. He’d sat with you through various holidays, played nice with your brothers and father, while working his way up the ranks to where now he was one of the most trusted in the organization. You never questioned how he did it, only that he came home to you. You’d moved in together about two months ago, against the wishes of your mother who didn’t think much of her daughter. In fact she had it made up in her mind that you thought you were better than them, that you were hateful and spiteful when in reality all you wanted was freedom.

You wanted the freedom to love and do what you wanted, not be judged by the legacy of blood your family left in its wake.

You’d only wanted him and Marshall made sure you knew he felt the same. He had a cold streak that could frighten some of the deadliest men you knew. How one look could shut them down and if it didn’t get shut down he...took care of it. However you two were about to embark on a whole new journey.

Parenthood.

Not that he knew. You’d only just figured it out yourself with a handful of home pregnancy tests and then a blood test with your doctor. You loved your child already and he’d talked about a family with you but the time right now was all off, but you knew the kind of man he was would do what he could for you. It wouldn’t be easy but the motto had always been “together”. It didn’t make you any less scared to be a mom which is why despite your strained relationship with your own you went to her for advice.

The house looked and felt just as it did growing up. A large home full of beautiful things but coldness. The lack of cars told you that the rest of your family wasn’t home, which was exactly what you didn’t want. If your father and brothers found out before Marshall, they wouldn’t care how much money he made them, they’d make his life a story of regret from the day he saved you from a face plant at the party. No you had to break the news, but you needed some advice. So you walk in, following the smell of white diamonds perfume your mother loves, up to the grand master bedroom. Taking off your shoes and the maid, takes your coat.

You almost laughed as you walked into the hallways of the house. Before your family transitioned into major players of the drug scene, you remembered the simpler times of a small house, fenced in porch that your grandma would sit on drinking tea and reminiscing as she told you stories about her childhood. Your mom is actually caring about what you wanted and needed. It had been a simplistic time, blissfully unaware of what your father did, your brother just going into high school, and the care of your mother was probably the reason you were pacing outside her bedroom door now.

You knock on one side of the white french doors and wait for an answer like you were taught to do, sweeping your feet across the soft carpet in small half circles.

“Come in Y/N.”

You smirk and open the door , following the light from her en-suite bathroom to where she was sitting at the vanity, putting the last touches on her full face of makeup.

“How did you know it was me momma?”

She laughs at you, a sharp smile on her face, framed by delicate laugh lines, still beautiful on the outside even if you knew how ruthless she could be with what she wanted. You hoped that the joy of a new grandchild would overshadow that you weren’t married to the father first. That he wasn’t some guy of high standing that she’d envisioned married you off to.

“You’ve been fidgety since you were a child, your brothers only knock if it’s an emergency AND your father was here, which considering what he has going on today home is the furthest thing from his mind. Honestly it never is even or normal days dear, but never the less I know you well enough that you aren’t here for just pleasantries.”

So you sigh and look down into her eyes, only because she was still sitting down, but you still felt like a child. Magically, it takes her only a minute and 17 seconds before her eyes widen and she looks at you.

“Oh my goodness *Your full name Here* you are pregnant.”

At her words you drop to your knees at her feet, much like a small child she lets you put your head in her lap as the relief of someone other than your doctor knowing about the life inside of you. She pats your head soothingly and you feel for the first time that she is on your side.

“It’s okay sweetheart. We will be okay, everything will be okay. We can make this go away. Nothing has to change.”

You look up at her this time, confusion filling your eyes and you shake your head.

“No... no that...that’s not...momma that’s not why I care here.”

She looks at you and scoffs, not caring as she stands up.

“Don’t be foolish Y/N. You are still a child yourself.”

You pull yourself to your feet, wiping the tears from your face. Ready to rebel against her thoughts of what you could be and what you were.

“I am not a child mother. I am 21.”

“You are not ready for a child.”

“Is anyone ever really?” You say with an off handed attitude that she clearly doesn’t appreciate. She steps around the chair to get closer to you.

“You most certainly are not. Besides what about all these lofty plans you made for yourself. You are the one who just HAD to go college. We spent all this money for you to go and you want to toss it away by having a child with nobody who can barely afford that hovel you live in much less a whole child.”

Angry she tossed a hand in the air in disbelief of her decision.

“We both do just fine...”

“You do just fine because of us. He works for us. We allowed this to go on for as long as possible because he seemed to keep you out of trouble and more or less distracted. He promised us he would keep you safe, make sure you knew what it means to be with someone in this lifestyle as a true partner, so that when the time comes to let you go to someone worthy...”

“You are lying! You will say anything to get me to do what you want. Marshall loves me and he will love this baby.”

“What did I just say child?! He cannot love you, because if he did he would know this would only hold you back. Your father and I have so much to show you, to give you the keys to be comfortable in such ways we never had growing up and you want to toss it away for a glorified errand boy!”

“ So this is just about control. Just like you always do. You can’t stand to see me happy unless you are the one holding the puppet strings. Well you know what...I am done. All of this is done! Marshall and I raise this child and will be everything that you hoped we failed at. I promise you will never see this child if this is how you view us.”

You turn quickly, determined to get as far away from her as possible, tears in your eyes, you were determined not to let her see you cry anymore. She no longer deserved that part of you.

“Goodbye Mother.”

She says reverting the formal manners she’d paid through the nose for you to develop. She let you get a few down the steps before you hear her race after you.

“Wait! Y/n please wait!”

The pleading tone was new and unexpected for you. You hadn’t heard the tone used for anything other than in childhood when begging your father not to do something stupid. You had never heard her use it in reference to you. She sounded heartbroken and is why you stop. She runs behind you, a step above you as you turn with tears in her eyes.

“I am sorry, Y/N please don’t leave like this. I just worry for you. You are my only daughter and suddenly my little girl isn't a little girl. I didn’t handle it well.”

You turn with a small smile and look at the soft look on her face. Once again not seen much since childhood, but it wasn’t forced.

“ No you didn’t but I guess we can give you a second chance to get it right.”

She wraps both arms around your shoulders and you both let her, touching her hands with a soft pat.

“So tell me, baby doll does anyone else know about this gift yet?”

You feel yourself beaming at her interest, the childhood nickname making you preen, excited that you would have guidance and maybe even get back the mother you’d been missing since you moved into this house.

“No. Actually not even Marshall, I came over hoping you’d give me some advice on how to tell him. I am so nervous.” You say walking slowly because you weren’t close enough to hold onto either side of the railing on the large stairs.

“Oh don’t worry sweetie, I think that will be the least of your worries...”

You turn to look at her but her smile is gone and a strong shove sends you careening down the rest of the steps, terror fills your veins and you panic, your life flashing before your eyes, things you did, things you never got to say. Only sounds of your screams echoing in the foyer. You hear your mother's footsteps as your head spins as you land.

She yells for help, but before anyone can come she leans down and says

“I did this for you.”

You feel the room spinning as you fight to keep consciousness so you could tell someone...anyone about what she did. Just as a maid turns a corner, the front door blasts open with a battering ram. Cops swarm in and you are surrounded, your mother taken to the floor along with unsuspecting maids.

“Help me.”

You manage to breathe out just as you give into the wall of blackness and let yourself fall asleep.

Besides it was more comforting there than knowing your mother had just tried to kill you and your unborn child...

*End flashback 3*

You lost everything that day. Your world shattered on the floor of that marbled foyer and somehow that fear was more than what you felt right now. You wouldn’t give anyone the satisfaction of seeing you cry again. Of breaking you down to that debased state again.

Turns out that wasn’t good enough for your captor. So he provided the physical pain that gave him the tears he wanted. He wanted to remind you that you had no one who actually gave a damn. Maybe death this way was better.

You could be with the one person who hadn’t left you by volition. You were once again facing that wall of unconsciousness but this time you were tired. Tired of life. The amount of energy it took for you to live was excruciating.

Without him.

Downright impossible.

You should know. You’d tried. So through your muffled whimpers as the weirdo finally decides he’s spilled enough of your blood and has reached where he can get it up enough to desecrate you.

He is climbing over you, the smell of hard liquor pouring from his pores and gross breath and he gets in your ear about how beautiful he thought you were as if that was supposed to endear you to him. You wake up just enough not to just lie there you start fighting back and he smacks you on an already swollen pain, but you fight even more. That bit of fight in you, won’t let this man break you. So you pull against the bindings and try to make it so he has no footing but he starts laughing more.

“There’s the fight. You were getting boring dear. Now... now... now... you really got potential.”

You pray for the ending as he grinds on you but another harsh sound comes as his weight disappears and in the red dim lighting of the room you hear and see the outline of a struggle. Two men fighting for domination of the other but you didn’t know who would win, though it seemed your rescuer had some height over your captor. A few well placed punches and a hard kick to the stomach and your result is standing to his feet, wiping his mouth and you guessed handcuffing the weirdo.

“ Detective Marshall, Full breech, victim is alive, one suspect in custody, medical request for full evac on suspect and victims.”

No.

The voice. Your obvious head injuries were playing a trick on you.

He fumbles around the dirty room and manages to find the light switch and it hurts you so your eyes slam shut and squeeze tight as a way to protect you and also so that your mind doesn't have to reconcile the voice to the face.

One of many reasons you went out drinking alone in the first place.

He walks over to the bed and helps untie you and you whimper as the blood returns to your wrists and your eyes open to find Marshall sitting in front of you. He brushes blood from your face, and tilts your head up, finally making eye contact as you begin to get cloudy headed again because despite your conscious feelings about him, your body still knew it was safe.

“Y/N?” He sounds as if he’s seen a ghost, and honestly it probably was like a ghost.

“Marshall please don’t leave me.”

Your torso falls forward onto his and strong arms wrap around you and you finally sob yourself into unconsciousness....

A/n: So as always I am requesting opinions! I hope this wasn’t too triggering for anyone and that you are excited for the next two part which hopefully should be up in the next few days, as they are in the editing stage.

If you feel so moved reblog, like, comment, follow.

TAGLIST: ( OPEN JUST SEND A REQUEST IF YOU WANT ON OR OFF, ALSO IF YOU HAVE REQUESTED TO BE ON MY HENRY TAG LIST BUT DON’T SEE YOUR TAG LISTED, LET ME KNOW ASAP)

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#henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #Henry cavil smut #Walter Marshall x Reader #Walter Marshall #fanfiction

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imaginepirates · 4 years

Text

Modern! Beckett

Alrighty, so I know these were requested forever ago (sorry, fml) but here you are with another modern au setting in which Beckett is plunged into today’s world. You live on a peaceful vineyard, so if you need something aesthetically pleasing rn, this is it.

@fablelady @kay-maybe @panagiasikelia

~3200 words

~~~~~~~

Something had gone horribly wrong with the food. Some sort of toxin had made its way into your body. It had to have. Otherwise, you wouldn't be seeing a man standing in your vineyard, wearing an embroidered waistcoat, looking completely and utterly lost.

You'd been walking barefoot through the rows of vines after breakfast, letting your toes curl against the earth. It was a pleasant sensation. A light breeze tugged at your loose hair, and the morning sun warmed your arms and back. Ripe grapes hung from the vineyard’s vines, purplish blue, ready to be harvested and sold to the nearby winery. You looked up, gazing over the endless rows of green and out to the golden fields beyond. Even further was the shimmering lake, the morning sun dappling across its surface, vast and blue and ending hazily at the mountainous opposite shore.

You wandered aimlessly, with no goal in mind, just looking out over the vast stretches of empty land. There was another vineyard in the distance, much the same as yours, and a small road interrupted the natural beauty, but there was little else around. A small city sat beyond the crest of a far off hill. You couldn’t see it from where you lived, but you drove in to get groceries and anything else you needed.

It was as you walked that you found yourself face to face with a small man who had somehow made his way deep within your vineyard. He stared at you with wide eyes and a perplexed expression, and you stared back, equally surprised.

It took a few moments to even comprehend the idea of someone ending up on your property. The section of vines you were in was far from the road, and you likely would have noticed someone coming from the road in any case. He didn’t really look like he’d walked a long way; there was none of the thin layer of dust that a person accumulated while walking long distances. You had no idea where he could have possibly come from.

The second thing that you noticed about the stranger was his manner of dress. A pale blue embroidered waistcoat, breaches, and strange heeled shoes were hardly the normal manner of dress. Not to mention the wig.

It took you another instant to realize that you recognized the man. Which means I must be dreaming, or I must be crazy. He bared an uncanny resemblance to a character from one of your favorite movies. There’s no way this could possibly be him. Lord Cutler Beckett, in my yard.

You must have been staring at him for an uncomfortable amount of time, as he cleared his throat.

You had a hard time forcing words out of your mouth. “Oh,” was all you could manage at first. Then, “Any idea how you got here?”

The man had the decency to look embarrassed. “No, I’m afraid.” He fidgeted with the hem of his loose white shirt. “Where am I, exactly?”

“In the middle of my vineyard, actually.”

“Ah. And that is?”

“A ways from wherever you come from, I think.”

He seemed to agree, assessing your clothes and the area around him.

“Would you like to come inside? We might be able to figure things out better.”

“Thank you.”

You walked back between the rows of grapevines, much more quickly than your earlier aimless meandering. The house was just ahead, a red roof against sandy walls. Cypress trees stood, lining the gravel driveway, at the front of the house. Beckett didn’t seem phased in the least by the outside appearance; you were sure he’d seen things like it before. It was old-fashioned, if not truly that old, in the style of Tuscan vineyards.

Beckett got a shock upon seeing the inside of the house, though. You led him up the stairs to your back porch and through the double doors at the back of the house. If the porch a story off the ground didn’t seem strange enough to him, the modern furniture, lights, decor, and appliances shocked him. You could hear him gasp a little behind you as he entered the house.

You entered into the kitchen. It was a large, open space connected to your living room. Bar seating separated the two spaces. “Water?” You asked. “I know it can get hot out there.”

“Hm? Oh, yes, please.” Somehow, he still managed to keep his manners.

You pulled a glass from the cupboard of the kitchen, filling it with water from the refrigerator. You looked back at Beckett, who stared on quizzically with his mouth slightly open. When you gave him the glass, he eyed it suspiciously before drinking.

“Perhaps ‘where’ am I wasn’t the right question,” he murmured. He drank slowly, eyeing everything around him. You were half tempted to turn on the TV, just to give him a start, but you decided against it.

“I think you’re going to find that everything is different around here. It might take some getting used to.” That was an understatement and you knew it.

“Ah.” He continued to stare. Finally, his eyes snapped back into focus and he looked at you. “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to play the part of the host?”

“I have plenty of room.”

He raised his eyebrows. “You live here alone?” “Not anymore, it seems, though I might like to know the name of my guest.” You gave him a smile, and he tentatively smiled back.

“Beckett. Cutler Beckett.” It was your turn to be dazed. “Thank you. I’d rather not make myself more lost by trying to find somewhere else to stay.”

“I understand.” Huh. Cutler Beckett. Right in my kitchen.

You showed him to a guest room. It was fairly minimal, and the decorations were sparse. The room had been painted an ivory color, and you’d complimented it with pale blue decorations. The curtains sported flowering shapes in both colors, whereas the bedspread was slightly patterned in varying shades of blue. An ovular mirror stood to one side of the room. It was charming, in its own way, though you were sure Beckett was used to more lavish accommodations.

He, for his part, didn’t seem to mind. He tapped the bed absentmindedly with a hand, looking around. He furrowed his brows, looking at the nightstand with its lamp. “What’s this?”

“A lamp. It’s a light that you can control from next to your bed.” You then proceeded to show him the lightswitch.

He stared, bewitched. “How does it work?”

“I’m…. not completely sure. It’s so common, I don’t really think about that. I know that it’s a complicated mess of wires, though.”

He continued to stare at the switch. As you left the room, you heard him give it a few experimental clicks. You smiled. It was sort of adorable, the way he was enchanted with everything. Much different from the man from the story. Softer. More human.

“Are you hungry?” You asked. It was getting on towards midday, and you found the idea of lunch to be appealing.

“The thought of food tempts me, I will admit.”

“It’s decided, then. Perhaps we’ll make it a picnic.” You busied yourself in the kitchen, pulling out meats, cheeses, fruits, nuts, and crackers. Snacky foods, but delicious when combined, and perfectly filling.

Beckett seemed a little dubious at the idea of eating outside, but you assured him that he wouldn’t get dirty, nor would he have trouble with bugs.

“And the heat?” he asked.

“Firstly, you can lose the waistcoat. And the wig. They won’t do you any favors. Secondly,” you snatched a floppy sun hat from a peg on the wall, “I have two.”

You might have considered getting him different clothes if you’d been worried about someone seeing you, but you weren’t, so you didn’t bother. You instead put the large sun hat on his now bare head, the hat clashing horribly with everything else.

You put yours firmly in place, picked up the basket in which you’d put your food, and strolled out the back door. Beckett followed right behind you, staring out at everything he could see. “It feels like Greece,” he said, “or Italy.”

“Thank you. I try to keep that feeling, actually.”

“You’re doing beautifully.”

The words took you aback. You could see that he was perfectly serious, but you hadn’t expected such a compliment from him. You’d hardly expected him to say anything nice at all. The story didn’t do him justice, then. You’d always expected him to be a bit of an ass. You supposed he still had the chance, but he’d been nothing but the picture of polite company, if not massively confused polite company.

You walked him down a winding path through the golden fields surrounding the vineyard. It trailed down to the shore of the lake, whose deep blue waters stretched out to a hazy horizon. Mountains rose up far beyond, too far away to see clearly, barely standing out against the sky. A small boat sat on the beach there, on your side, and you had a mind to row it a ways down the bank.

You pushed off from the bank, peacefully rowing through the serene waters. Few boats used the lake, making it ideally scenic. You would have hated for the lake to be crowded. More urban areas got choked with tourists during the summer, but you were far enough away from any big cities that it wasn’t a problem. Besides, the nearest town didn’t have major hotels.

You rowed along, Beckett sitting opposite you in the little boat. He seemed to be enjoying himself, looking out over the scenery. The tension had left his shoulders. He seemed almost peaceful this way, staring out at the hazy mountains, looking over the golden fields and banks of trees.

You arrived at a flat, grassy area shaded by trees. The two of you got out and sat beside the lake, shielded from the blistering sun. You unpacked the basket you’d brought with you. You and Beckett sat in companionable silence, enjoying the meal, enjoying a slight breeze. Beckett looked ridiculous in the sun hat. It seemed too big on him, somehow, and it made him look much less threatening than you were used to his being. Meeting him in person had been a lot different than how he was portrayed, you reflected.

“It’s wonderful here. Much more peaceful than home,” he said. His expression changed when he spoke of his home, like he’d tasted something sour. “I do wonder what’s going on. And how I’m supposed to get back. If I’m supposed to get back. It’s a rather terrifying thought, that I might never go home.” By the look on his face, the thought was just now occurring to him.

“I’m sure we’ll find a way to get you home.”

“Are you sure? I don’t know how I ended up here in the first place. It seems rather like a dream, though I can say with confidence that it isn’t.”

“You had to get here somehow. I don’t think you’re meant to stay here forever.”

He looked out over the lake. “Things are such a mess there, the idea of staying here isn’t so awful, actually.”

“Maybe you just needed time away.”

“I doubt the world would be so kind.”

You steered away from the subject, and the two of you ended up talking about the vineyard. He knew more about viniculture than you might have guessed.

“It really does take me back to some of my lessons in school,” he said. “They had pictures of the Italian countryside in some of my books. It was much like this, though I don’t remember any lakes.”

You smiled. “It’s one of my favorite places. Too many methods of production have taken on more modern approaches; the massive farms growing wheat, or the rows upon rows of corn, interrupted only by giant sprinklers and massive tractors. I like keeping things small. It’s so much more peaceful than those unnerving monocultures.”

“I always wanted to go. To Greece, or Italy, I mean. I loved all the stories, all the history. I wanted to experience it for myself.”

“Never got to go?”

“No. My travels took me elsewhere. Africa, China, India, the New World. I always told myself that I’d make time for it later.”

“Surely the places you did go to proved to be interesting.”

“Very. The cultures of those places were foreign to me; lord knows they weren’t part my education. I found them fascinating. Tell me, have the American colonies expanded? I’m sure they’d have had to, by now.”

“Well, yes.” You didn’t think he’d like where this was going.

Something in your expression must have tipped Beckett off. “They are still under the control of the British?”

“No.”

“The Spanish? God forbid, don’t tell me the French got control. I can’t imagine those frogs doing anything good with the land.”

“Actually, the colonies had a revolution and became their own country.”

“Ah,” he said. “I suppose that’s wont to happen sometimes.”

“Yes, yes it is.” You thought of all the other countries that had broken away from Britain, too.

You packed up, stepping back into the boat. This time, you drifted out towards the center of the lake. “Did you spend much time at sea?” you asked. “You did seem to travel a lot.” You didn’t want to make it look like you knew too much about him, even though you did.

“I spent a fare amount of time at sea, yes, though I typically settled down once I got somewhere.” He let his hand skim the top of the water. “The sea is much different from a lake, though. Calmer.”

You were out on the lake until dusk, talking about this and that; the places you’d been and the things you’d seen, all the questions Beckett had for you about modern technology and travel, and a hundred other things. You figured it was the most relaxed Becektt had ever been. He even laughed from time to time at your jokes. How strange it is, to see him like this. I think he’s growing on me.

You seemed to be growing on him, too. “You’re very easy to get along with, you know that? I haven’t just sat and talked with someone in ages. At least, not without wanting to get something from them.”

“Is there nothing you want to get from me?” you asked innocently.

Beckett looked at you, surprised. A slight blush dusted his features. Then he smiled, a little wickedly, and raised an eyebrow. “Was that flirting?”

It was your turn to blush. “Perhaps a little.”

“Just know that it can go both ways.” A smug look crossed his face as you blushed deeper. “Although I have to admit, I’m rather out of practice. It’s been a long time since anyone’s flirted with me.”

“I can’t see why. You’re such a charming man.”

“Am I? I rather think that my good attitude has everything to do with my company, and nothing to do with my charm.”

You rolled your eyes, rowing back to shore. By the time you got back to the house, it was time for dinner, and you coerced Beckett into helping you make it. He had little idea what he was doing, but managed not to make a complete mess with any of his tasks. It’s cute, you thought, to watch him try doing domestic things.

The two of you enjoyed a pasta dish with chicken and tomatoes, fresh basil and olive oil drizzled over the top. You had an assortment of fruits to enjoy, too. You plucked a pomegranate from the mix.

Beckett eyed you. “I suppose you know the story of Hades and Persephone?”

“I do. How Hades fell in love with Persephone, kidnapped her, and tricked her into eating seeds from the fruit of the underworld. She had to return to him, then, and spend half of each year with him.”

“A man from another world, falling for a goddess of vegetation.” Beckett’s eyes focused on the pomegranate. “Sometimes, mythology is unbelievable. Sometimes, it isn’t.”

You cut the fruit, taking out a large spoonful of the burgundy seeds and eating them. “I like the version where Persephone knows exactly what she’s doing.”

Beckett watched you, eyes never leaving yours. “I don’t think I’ve heard that one before.”

“It’s a little wicked, I must confess. The thought that she was no innocent victim, but a wholly conscious decider of her fate. Perhaps not all women want to pick flowers all day. Some of us might like a taste of power, of having men fear our names.”

“And would you have me fear yours?” He arched a brow. You laughed. “No, no.”

“Would you rather me kidnap you, then?” He didn’t give you time to answer, instead pulling you out of your seat to be flush against him. “Tell me, do you dance?”

“Does the Macarena count?” He gave you a questioning look. “Nevermind,” you said. “The answer is no.”

“Shame. Looks like you need a teacher.” He smirked. “It might be a little hard without music, though.”

“What song?” Beckett looked confused. “Can you get any waltzes?”

“Alexa,” you turned your head towards the small device sitting on your counter. “Play the Second Waltz.” You turned back to Beckett. “It’s a bit more contemporary, but I trust you’ll know how to dace to it.”

The tune, familiar to you, at least, began. Beckett put a hand on your waist and took one of your hands with the other. Your free hand floated just above his shoulder, where you assumed it was supposed to go.

“Don’t be shy,” he urged.

The moment your hand came to rest on his shoulder, he took a step forward, forcing you to step back. He guided you to one side, then forward, and again to the other side. Your movements were clumsy, but you began to get the hang of it as he repeated the steps.

“Not so hard, see?”

You smiled shyly, aware of just how close the two of you were.

“Blushing already?” he teased. He suddenly pulled you flush against his chest. “And to think I hadn’t even given you anything to blush about.”

“You’re cheeky, aren’t you?” You barely managed to get the words out through your embarrassment.

“Perhaps. Though I’m sure I can make you blush harder if I try.”

“Is that a promise?”

Beckett laughed. “You’re not so bad at this yourself, you know. But if I must…” The hand on your waist took a firmer grip, while the one holding yours came to rest on your cheek. His thumb grazed over your lower lip. Softly, he planted a kiss to your lips, staying close even after it was finished. “Perhaps staying here forever isn’t such a bad thought after all,” he whispered. He stepped back. “Though I suppose I have to find a way back at some point.”

“We will,” you said, still a little dizzy from the kiss.

“Together?”

“Together.”

~~~~~~~

If anyone was wondering about the song:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LPG_WUgHbis

#potc #pirates #pirates of the caribbean #becket #lord beckett #cutler beckett #request #modern au #modern #au #drabble #drabbles #writing #fanfic #potc fanfic

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houseof-harry · 4 years

Note

pleaseee do a back story on why Y/N has trust issues. I’m so CURIOUSSSS🥺

Trigger warning: emotional manipulation, daddy issues basically lmao (and a complacent mom but I don’t want to spoil any more), mental health issues

Most children grow up thinking their parents are perfect. That they can do no wrong, they’re always right, and you can always trust them to be there for you, to take care of you. Y/N was no different. She had a mother who loved her, packed her lunch every single day for school, who took her to all her activities, who cooked her dinner and brought her shopping. She had a father who loved her, made sure she always had somewhere to sleep, a place to do homework, a cheerleader to push her to do her best.

When Y/N was 15, she became a lifeguard for the summer. Easy money, always in the sun, and lots of cute boys swimming around under her watchful eye. It was the ideal job for anyone who was her age, and her parents even offered to drive her so that she could work at the fancy country club to add a few bucks to the low hourly wage she’d be making.

And it was going pretty well. She liked her coworkers, got to know the regulars quickly, and even got a few babysitting gigs out of it.

What she wasn’t sharing with the world was her anxiety. Her crippling, maddening anxiety. The anxiety that almost made her fail her sophomore year of high school, the anxiety that made her nauseous whenever she was awake, the anxiety that had completely taken over her body and locked her soul far far away in the depths of her brain.

She didn’t know how she got to this point. But one day it became harder to breathe, and that heavy weight in her chest never went away. That didn’t stop her from trying to live her life, though, because she wanted to do anything she could to try and make it better.

After a particularly long day at the pool, she was exhausted, sunburnt, and dehydrated. She just wanted to go home, shower, eat dinner and go to sleep.

When she got into her fathers car, he didn’t even give her a second glance. She sat in silence with him for the entire drive home, him not responding to anything she tried to say to him. It was an eerie feeling, and one she would soon become used to whenever she was around her dad.

When they got home, he got out of the car without a word, walking into the house with a huff and a puff, Y/N trailing behind in confusion. Her mom gave her a look of pity, which not only made her more confused, but made the pit in her stomach even more prevalent. What could have possibly happened in the 8 hours she'd been gone?

She soon found out when she walked into her room to find it completely destroyed. Her bed off the frame, pictures shattered, dresser drawers thrown around the floor, the contents strewn everywhere.

She stood in shock, the warm tears quickly falling down her face as she began to panic. Everything had been ransacked, destroyed, completely ruined. She went to close her door to keep out whoever had done this, her one safe space tainted.

But she couldn’t. The door had been taken off the hinges, no where to be found. When she looked down the hallway to see her fuming father, arms crossed and waiting for her to say something.

“Did you do this?” She whimpered out, like a lost and scared puppy.

“You think you can fuck around with school? Blame it on some mental illness? The principal called to make sure you would be better for this coming year. Don’t go blaming your lazy ass decisions on mental health. You take care of yourself and your responsibilities, and when you don’t I’ll be here to remind you.” His tone was level, almost robotic as he lectured her.

“Where’s my door?”

“Gone. You don’t deserve it, not until you can get your shit together.”

And before she can respond, he was turning and walking away.

Her mom came into view, the same sympathetic eyes she had when Y/N had walked through the kitchen glazing over as she sees her fragile daughter in the door frame, scared and alone.

“Why didn’t you stop him?” Y/N asked, the anger in her voice unintentional but she has no energy to control it. She grabbed the door frame to hold herself up, waiting for some type of explanation.

“You know how your father gets,” is all her mother could think up.

Y/N does the only thing she can think of in the moment, storming past her mother and to the bathroom, closing and locking the door before sobbing uncontrollably. That’s the day she realized neither of her parents were perfect

It took Y/N two years after that to finally get to therapy. Only after years of working with her therapist did she realize how imperfect both of her parents really were.

Like all the times Y/N had been sick as a child, when her father had blamed her for making a mess while she had a stomach bug, complaining that she should know better than to miss the toilet. She was 5 the first time she remembers him doing that.

Or the time she had a stomach ulcer at age 8, and instead of taking her to a doctor, her father told her to just eat more and that she was faking the pain for three months. Only when she was uncontrollably crying did her mother finally speak up.

Or the time she was scared to compete in the state championships for swimming, and her father told her she was being stupid and that he wouldn’t talk to her until the race was over before walking away and to the stands, sitting so far back she couldn’t see him while she waited for her turn.

Or the time she got a 99% on a math exam in 8th grade, and her dad asked why she didn’t get a 100% before throwing the exam away.

Two years of therapy opened those memories back up, and many more, of times she needed love and care from her dad, and all she got was cold, emotionless responses. She had never felt safe around him. She only realized it wasn’t normal to constantly worry your dad will stop loving you if you forget to do your dishes, or leave your cleats out instead of putting them in your closet, or miss a day of school when you have strep throat, when her therapist told her that wasn’t normal. She said that, “a parents love should never be conditional, and should never be used as a punishment.” That’s when Y/N realized she only heard of her father’s love for her when he threatened to take it away.

And her mother was scared, too. Reasonably so, because her father was a scary man. Hell, whenever Y/N did something that made him angry nowadays, he threatens to cut all ties with her, the silent treatment still a favorite of his. The last time he threatened that was when she asked for help paying for a medical bill. He’d called her greedy, telling her she needed to be financially independent at all times, because you never know what could happen.

She always wondered if her dad truly loves her, or if he felt forced to have kids like half of his generation. And she still wonders why her mother never loved her enough to stand up for her.

And why she didn’t trust anyone, especially new people in her life? If her parents couldn’t love her enough to hug her when she felt sick, to sing her to sleep when she had nightmares, to tell her she would be okay when she got nervous before any big event, why would anyone else be able to?

#Grayson dolan #hyt.blurb #hyt

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