#the wrong being a dead body so it’s warranted

[gumdefense]

Because I have Gumshoe and Kay on the mind and I will always find an excuse to share stage play propaganda can we talk about how perfect their dynamic is in it

English subtitles by Rayne :D and Grace Rivalsforlife !

[clemencetaught]

this applies to all verses, but more so to verse one specifically, but patrick is agnostic, leaning more towards atheist. originally he was brought up christian both by his birth parents and his adoptive parents and while he never was a serious practitioner, he always did vaguely question it...but it was never something he seriously thought about.

this, however, changed drastically as a result of felicity's death. his reasoning is that: "if there truly is such thing as a benevolent god, then what happened to felicity and the others would have never occurred in the first place."

[wileys-russo]

Alessia, "I didn't cheat on you, it was just a dream babe!", mad alessia at training

disloyal dreams II a.russo

"-are you going to be like this all day?" you sighed as you tried to start a conversation with the blonde beside you who shrugged, again refusing to give you any sort of verbal response.

"alessia. the silent treatment, really?" you repeated, eyes burning into the side of her head as she shrugged and you dragged your hands down your face exhaling heavily.

"i thought we were good at communication. we've been together for a year and a half!" you reminded, alessia dead silent as her fingers drummed against the steering wheel and she came to a stop at a red light.

"less, babe will you just tell me what i've done wrong? i can't fix it if i don't know what i did!" you groaned frustrated, the blonde only leaning forward and turning up the stereo louder making you wince.

"fine, be like this then." you grumbled with a shake of your head, crossing your arms and staring out the window, knowing her well enough that the striker when warranted could be incredibly stubborn.

though the problem you were having today is you weren't even sure where this grudge she had against you was coming from. you'd gone to bed and things were all fine and normal, the pair of you ordering in and falling asleep cuddled up together watching a movie in the living room as you often did.

you'd woken up first, slowly shaking the taller girl on top of you until she did too and the two of you had stumbled tiredly to bed. her long limbs entrapping you in her hold the moment your backs hit the mattress, eyes heavy and a few sleepy kisses exchanged, all seemed fine.

but then this morning you'd woken up to an empty bed, frowning right away as alessia was almost never the first one awake between you.

in fact over the time you'd been together even before you'd moved in with her whenever you slept over at alessia's you'd learned to set your alarm a half an hour earlier than either of you had to be up because it took that long to coax the sleepy blonde to actually get up.

your confusion only grew further when a quick search of the house showed it to be empty, your calls out for your girlfriend going unanswered both vocal and on the phone, a sense of worry beginning to settle in.

however right before it really hit its peak you heard keys in the front door, racing down the stairs and breathing out in relief when she stepped inside, body coated in a thin sheen of sweat and hair pulled back into a bun.

you tried to speak to her and draw her into a hug, mumbling ut you'd been worried sick and asking why she hadn't at least left a note or sent a text but all you got was a shrug and a grumble she needed a shower.

ever since then the most your girlfriend had said was maybe three words, the rest of her responses all grunts or hums as at first you thought maybe she hadn't slept well and was just tired.

though then it started to feel a lot more personal and as much as you'd asked and asked and asked, she wouldn't tell you just why she was so seemingly upset with you or what you'd done to earn such a stubborn silence.

pulling into the training grounds you tried again to ask if the two of you could talk, trying to angle that it wasn't healthy to go into training if she was in a bad head space but all that resulted in was a door closed in your face and a rap of her knuckles against your window a moment later, wordlessly telling you to hurry up.

despite the fact alessia could be one of the most sweet, kind and downright lovely human beings you'd ever had the pleasure to know let alone fall in love with, she still had her share of off day but normally she was quite good at hiding them from your teammates.

today however she didn't seem to care in the slightest, making no move to disguise the fact she wasn't talking to you and clearly was in a mood, the tension thick and uncomfortable as you stared at her longingly across the change rooms.

"mate. what did you do to that poor girl?" leah flopped herself down in her own cubby beside you as you sighed, alessia not even sparing you a glance as she laced her boots up and stormed out, ignoring both emily and lotte who tried to stop and speak with her clearly sensing she wasn't okay.

"nothing! well at least not that i can work out? i've been given the silent treatment all morning." you huffed with a roll of your eyes, wrestling to undo the tight knots in your boots and sending kyra a venemous glare across the room who was clearly the culprit.

but sensing maybe today was not the day to have pushed your buttons the australian was quick to shrink beneath your murderous stare, taking off out of the room within seconds flat.

"give it here." leah chuckled, having already undone your other boot as you shoved it at her and sunk down into your seat, stroppy look on your face and mouth turned downward into a sour pout.

"did you have an argument?" "no." "did you not do something you said you would?" "I don't think so?" "did you forget an anniversary? birthday? special date?" "definitely not." "did you..." leah trailed off, clearly trying to think of something to say.

"nah i've got nothing. good luck sunshine!" the blonde shrugged, pinching your cheek and handing you the now untangled boot. "leah!" you groaned, hoping for the older girl to at least have had perhaps some wisdom to offer.

throughout the day your confusion only grew when the stony silence continued, the two of you at least kept mostly separate for the majority of training, having grown embarrassed now by your shut down attempts to talk to alessia.

thankfully bar a few ill timed comments from some of your younger peers who hadn't yet learnt how to read a room everyone backed off the teasing you'd been worried about, most of them just as confused as you by the air of frustration and irritation radiating off the blonde striker.

"fucking hell less!" leah swore, barely able to duck out of the way of a poorly timed but incredibly powerful strike which rocketed past her ear and swooshed into the back of the goal.

you however were not so lucky, admittedly quite out of it most of the session as your brain ticked over and you overthought every little action and interaction you'd had with the blonde in the last twenty four hours.

it was this distraction which caused you to have zoned out on the sidelines, staring off into space and triple checking in your head every significant event and date to try and work out just why your girlfriend was so clearly off with you.

but you were grounded right back into reality when suddenly something hit you very hard and very fast right in the face, the unexpected ball knocking you on your ass as you felt something wet drip down your face and you started to feel a little woozy.

you watched as both your teammates and some of the staff crowded around you, seeing their mouths moving but unable to decipher what was being said due to the obnoxious ringing in your head.

the medics eventually arrived, shooing everyone away to give you some space and a collective slightly disgusted groan sounded as suddenly you lurched forward and emptied the contents of your breakfast onto the grass beside you.

you winced as a bright light was shone right in your eyes, trying to bat away the hand responsible as someone else grabbed your wrists and stopped you.

blinking a few times as finally the light went away and your hearing returned right in time to hear one word before you were helped to your feet and walked off the pitch.

concussion.

you sighed heavily but nodded as you laid down on one of the padded benches in the medic office, the lights dim and one of the trainee's running you through the concussion protocol you knew like the back of your hand.

with a heavy sigh you felt him squeeze your knee in a silent apology before ducking out to grab some paperwork, an incident report needing to be done as you covered your face with your hands and felt your heartbeat thump in your ears.

when you heard the door open again you assumed he'd returned and you might be cleared to leave, but to your surprise when you looked up there was a different person now looking down on you, your bag slung over her shoulder and car keys in hand.

you didn't expect her to say anything and you didn't have it in you for an argument, so with a grunt you pulled yourself into a seated position, her hands quick to steady you and you hated how good it felt to feel her touch even in such a minimal way.

"you cheated on me."

your head snapped up so fast you felt your neck throb and the headache settling behind your eyes pulse as you sat in a state of shock, sure you'd just heard her incorrectly.

"i-what?" you managed to croak out, the blonde fiddling with the strap of the bag as she nodded. "you cheated on me." she repeated and just like earlier you felt a horrendous sense of nausea settle in.

"i think i'm going to be sick." you began to panic, bile rising in your throat as you looked around desperately for a sick bag of some sort as alessia's hands settled on your cheeks and you tensed up.

"you cheated on me last night." she repeated in a tone so soft you almost didn't hear her, incredibly confused and now wondering just how hard you'd hit your head as you blinked.

"alessia. what? i-baby i would never ever chea-" you couldn't even get the words out until the blonde shook her head, one of her hands coming to cover your mouth, an odd look of guilt now present on her face which had you even more confused.

"in my dream, last night. you cheated on me in my dream, that's why i've been so off with you today..." the blonde bit her bottom lip with a wince as you paused, slowly moving her hands off of you as she shifted nervously.

"i didn't cheat on you." "no." "but you thought i did?" "kind of? i know it was a dream, but it felt really real!"

"alessia..." you trailed off in disbelief, the trainee from earlier taking one step inside as the pair of you looked at him and clearly sensing he might have been interrupting he quickly ducked back out of the room with a mumble you were free to go.

"i still think you should say sorry." the blonde seemed to regain her confidence as your jaw dropped and you looked at her in bewilderment. "for what?" you squeaked out, alessia sighing and shaking her head.

"for cheating on me." "i didn't cheat on you? it was just a dream babe!" you threw your hands up with a scoff and hissed, your head throbbing as your eyes squeezed shut.

"okay. well since you have a concussion, i'll forgive you anyway." alessia decided, stepping forward to stand in between your legs and giving you a smile as if she'd just done you a favour.

"you'll forgive me?" "yes. now baby we should really get you home, i've got your concussion plan and you have to come in tomorrow for a re-assessment." alessia nodded, patting your bag and holding our a hand to help you up as you stared at her with narrowed eyes.

"you'll forgive me. for ignoring me all day and making me feel like i've done the wrong thing? like i'm the the crazy one?" you stuttered out still in shock that this was the reason for her cold shoulder and off put behavior.

"hey! you can't use that." alessia snatched your phone out of your hand and slid it into your bag with a tut. "i need it." you held your hand out expectantly and rolled your eyes as your girlfriend had the audacity to laugh.

"for what?" she questioned as you smacked away her attempted helping hands and she frowned.

"because i need to write a note." "a note?" "yes alessia. a note that when my head isn't absolutely throbbing i am going to yell at you and then give you the silent treatment all day!"

"what! baby why? you cheated on me, and i forgave you?" "i cannot control my actions in a dream alessia, and so i didn't cheat on you!" "baby you shouldn't get so worked up, you'll make your headache worse." "dating you is a headache russo." "...so is now a bad time to ask for that apology?" "it was a dream alessia!"

[itsmealaiahh]

"Much Needed Release"

TW: tom being pussymuncher69, pussy eating, clit stimulation, minor profanity, some angst in the beginning, head (fem rec obviously), praise, some overstimulation, somnophilia

Request: older Tom X younger petite reader. reader had a bad day and Tom was tired of hearing abt how bad she was being treated. when r (reader) went upstairs for a nap, Tom woke her up with his face in between her thighs. He makes r cum A TON! Yea. Thx baeee!

IM ACK 😚😚`😚😚😦😦😦 NON T DEAD

Rating: under 15 dni!! explicit situations lie ahead!!

"I hate weekdays"

You complained to tom the minute you walked through the door, tired and spent from the hellish day you had just went through. It just wouldn't stop! The terrible treatment from certain co-workers, and even your boss was unbearable, to say the least.

Each day, you always came home, your mood miserable, and tom wanted to fix it. He was honestly getting a little bit annoyed at how every day at your officeplace was going. Why were your co-workers so rude towards you? Hell, why was even your boss so rude? He was sure you hadn't done anything to warrant the treatment. You were sweeter than anyone he had ever met, and it took a lot to get you angry or upset.

He wanted to help you out and give you a break from the tough week, but how so? You would surely fall asleep during a movie or an activity where you both just sat on the couch together, so how could he possibly help? He didn't notice you were no longer in the living room until he snapped out of his thoughts, and he knew you were taking a nap. He could try to..no.

That would be wrong, and quite frankly, disgusting, unless...

Tom made his way to the bedroom, seeing you napping on his pillow, your body covered by the duvet. Quietly closing the door behind him, he padded over to the mattress where you slept, picking the covers off. His eyes widened just a bit at seeing your underwear the only thing that you were wearing, and his cock twitched in his pants, slowing coming to life. His lips parted a bit, his tongue swiping over his bottom one as he gazed over your sleeping frame, drinking you in fully.

The more he looked, the more turned on he became, his member now straining almost painfully against the restraint of his pants. He pulled the covers over himself, stripping you of your remaining clothes, throwing them to the side; your precious cunt now exposed.

He groaned a little at the sight, placing a gentle lick on your clit before delving into your pussy. His hands held your hips down as you squirmed every now and then in your sleep, letting out little whines as well. He closed his eyes, lapping up and down your core, ravishing your taste on his tongue.

"so fucking sweet" he murmured, his tongue flicking up and down your little bud occasionally, working wonders on you. More moans and other small noises escaped you, slowly coming to from your sleep. Tom didn't see your eyes opening up as he continued to bury his face into your pussy, now sucking tastefully on your clit. You let out a loud moan, your vision no longer blurry. Your legs wrapped around tom's head, squeezing just a bit. You didn't have any time to adjust, your body overcome with pleasure.

Breathing in slowly, you met eyes with tom, who looked up at you with a grin, his beard glistening with your juices. "w-what are you doing?" You questioned, pulling yourself upright with your elbows. "Well" he started, giving another small lick to your core, before going back to speaking. "You had a rough day, so I wanted to make it better. Just sit and relax and let me please you, okay baby? I'll make it worth your while"

You laid back down with a sigh, enjoying the feeling of tom's tongue lapping insistently at your pussy. The tongue was a very wet and strong organ, and having tom's on your core? Fucking heaven. Your legs squeezed his head again, not too rough to cut off air supply, just enough to let him know how good you were feeling. "You like that baby? My tongue on this pretty little pussy?" He smirked. You nodded, giving another small whimper. Your hips bucked up against his mouth, already giving way to your orgasm. "To-tom"

Many, many, many, delicious orgasms later, and now you and tom were snuggled up together in bed, his hand stroking your hair softly. After being so spent from simply his tongue, he was calming you down and letting you go back to sleep, no more tricks up his sleeve for the rest of the night. He was going to let you get some much needed rest, and he'd try to convince you to stay home tomorrow so you could regroup and hopefully ease up from all of the tension your work was putting on you. But that was for tomorrow, right now, it was just about you and him, snuggled up together, happy and content.

also sorry jordan if this isn't what you wanted pookie lmk if you want some diff and i'll try to fix it 😋😋😋

[unoislazy]

Promises

Vi x Reader (Part Four)

Friends?

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

“You talk too much.” Vi huffed and with one swift movement turned around and punched the support beam of the tower behind you, causing it to start to crumble to the ground. You looked back towards Vi who had grabbed Cait’s arm and signaled for you to follow behind as she began to run. You sprinted as fast as your legs could carry you as you heard the booming sound of the tower crashing down, leaving Silco behind in a cloud of rage filled dust. 

Once you were a safe enough distance away, You all stopped to regroup for a moment, giving yourselves time to process what just happened. 

“So when were you going to tell me you knew where my sister was this whole time?” Vi asked, to which you looked directly at her and answered,

“I told you, I was getting there but there was a lot happening all at once, what was I supposed to do? Find out you're not dead and then just immediately say ‘hey Vi! I know where your sister is, har har,  let's NOT focus on the fact that you just got stabbed!” You said in an overly dramatic mocking tone as you put on a character to reenact your little hypothetical scene. 

“You could’ve just said something after you got the serum.” She huffed again, her anger not dissipating as she kept her eyes focused on you. 

“Vi, I told you, I was going to tell you but-”

“Why didn’t you?” She interrupted.

“Well you kind of have this annoying habit where you don’t let me talk so…” You said in a sarcastic tone as you looked away from her. She sighed, cupping the side of her face with one of her battered hands. She was just healed not even twenty minutes ago and she’s already put her body at risk of another injury. 

“Hey, you’re not sin free either here Vi. You’re working with a pilty? I tried to ignore it to stay out of your business but you want to get on MY case for working with the wrong side?” You argued. Vi was an older sister through and through, she was always quick to correct the actions of others without having the time to think about herself. You couldn’t blame her, with everything she’s probably been through in the last 48 hours, it’s a lot to grapple with all this new information. But just because it was hard on her doesn’t mean you were just going to let her off the hook. 

“No offense Caitlyn but I could tell you weren’t from here with just one look.” You said to her, as she looked over to you as she quickly shook her head. 

“I’m not-” She began to speak before Vi spoke over her once again.

“Leave her out of this.” 

You glanced at Caitlyn as she rolled her eyes before looking back at Vi.

“Vi how can I leave her out of this when you’re doing the exact thing you’re upset at me for. Well… maybe not the exact thing unless she’s an enforcer but there's no way you’d-” You paused. Once those words left your mouth there was a sudden silence that fell over the two of them as Caitlyn averted eye contact. 

“No. No way.” You finally managed to speak up as you looked between Vi and Cait. 

“How do you think she got me out of Stillwater?”

“Vi really? That’s clearly not the point here!”

“She needed information against Silco, that’s why she's here,” Vi excused, 

“Holy shit. I never thought I’d live to see the day when THE Violet goes out of her way to defend an ENFOR- an enforcer?!” You stumbled over your words a bit in disbelief as you held your hands up to your forehead and pushed the back over your hairline. 

Vi was quiet now. It seemed to have hit her a bit more now that she was actually taking your reaction into consideration.

“I’m here to help.” Caitlyn spoke up, causing you to look at her. You had no real reason to not trust her, she hadn’t done anything to warrant you being hesitant of her, if anything she showed you could trust her as she had given up her valuable gun without hesitation for the sake of helping Vi.

“To help who exactly? What do you even need this information for?” You asked. In your mind whenever an enforcer came down here to ‘help’ it was just because the Pilties were uncomfortable and they needed to display they’re military power against the poor people of Zaun.

“There’s an ongoing investigation involving someone named Jinx, linked to the Progress Day attack.” Cait explained which caused you to look back at Vi.

“Oh yeah, that’s gonna go well. I can totally see how this will all work out perfectly and there won't be a conflict with that at all in the slightest.” You remarked sarcastically as you crossed your arms. Did Vi seriously expect this enforcer to just let her sister go without any reason, especially if she was the one behind the attacks? Caitlyn looked at you with confusion, it seemed was a little behind on connecting the dots but all her questions would soon be answered as you looked over to Vi. 

She was staring at something off in the distance, her eyes locked on with a mesmerized air about her. 

“Vi what are you-” You were about to ask but you got your answer as you turned to see the blue cloud of smoke filling the air. 

Powder. 

Without another word you and Vi began running towards the direction of the smoke. Cait followed close behind, clearly confused as to what the sudden urgency was for, but you weren’t going to explain it to her. You couldn’t. If there was any hope of Vi getting out of this with her sister it would be by you keeping your mouth shut. 

Just as the smoke was starting to diffuse, you all made your way up. Vi was the first to greet her sister and you were a close second. As you walked up, you saw the two girls clinging to each other as they reunited for the first time in years. You kept your distance so as to not ruin the moment until Jinx noticed you. 

“You’re here too? I thought… I thought you left?” She asked as Vi released her from the hug to look back at you. You walked up closer to them with a smile on your face. You always kept your distance when it came to Powder, you were just there if she needed you but out of fear of Silco you didn’t get too close. You didn’t realize it would affect her at all if you had left, but it seems she noticed after all. You nodded at her and in that moment you didn’t see the Jinx that you were used to showing up and tormenting people for fun. You saw the young girl who used to create things and show them off to you with pride when you’d visit. You saw Powder and it was clear that Vi did too. 

But before you could all get too comfortable, you all heard the sound of Caitlyn catching up behind you. You felt a little bad for having ditched her but you knew how important this was to Vi, even if you did have your disagreements on other things.

Powder quickly reached for the gun that was strapped to her and aimed it at Caitlyn. 

“Who is she?” She asked and just like that you could see Jinx take over once again. 

“Who are you?” Cait asked back in a lower tone as she looked between Vi and Jinx. Vi quickly jumped in to be a mediator to try and keep Jinx from attacking Caitlyn.

“It’s okay… she's a friend.” Vi said, holding her arm out to Jinx as she tried to convince her. You couldn’t help but silently wonder to yourself “Is she though?” Cait hadn’t given you any direct reason to dislike her but you still wanted to be cautious. 

But it was going to take more than a couple words to undo all the trauma associated with enforcers for the blue haired girl. 

“Your sister is Jinx?” Cait asked. 

“Listen we can work this out-” Vi tried to keep things together as she often did but it wasn't working. Cait was set on her role as an enforcer, here for the blue orb thingy. You truthfully had no idea that was even involved in the equation until you watched her spot it. 

“Hm, it’s almost like someone called this.” You muttered quietly before looking back over to Jinx.

“This is a trick, you're playing me!”  Jinx shouted, aiming her gun at Vi, then you, then Caitlyn before covering her ears as she turned away.

“Shut up!” She screamed. 

“We didn’t say anything?” You shot Caitlyn a look. If there was ever a time to make a snippy comment, it was definitely not when the girl who is hearing voices has a minigun aimed directly for you. You watched as Jinx slowly began to spiral, as she often did when some news of something involving Powder would come up. You weren't exactly surprised it was happening, but you knew how irrational she could get and you'd be damned if you knew how to stop her. 

As Vi continued to try and get Jinx to calm down, you heard a low rumbling noise, it was hard to hear at first so you ignored it, paying more attention to Jinx and Vi but the longer you ignored it the louder it went until Jinx finally noticed it as well. 

You all turned to the sound and realized it was none other than 

“The firelights.” You whispered before your voice was quickly drowned out by the rapid firing sound of Jinx’s gun. You quickly ducked and covered your ears to get out of the way of Jinx’s sporadic aim. In seconds, multiple firelights joined their leader and came swooping down among you all. Luckily once Vi hit one off of their board you were able to grab a weapon to help fight alongside them. You weren’t the best at fighting, you were never trained, but to survive in the Undercity you’d have to at least be able to keep your face out of the way of an oncoming attack. 

As you continued to fight you looked around after a while and noticed that Caitlyn was nowhere to be seen. Maybe she was just hiding.

Or maybe she just got what she needed and left. 

You didn’t give too much attention to her disappearance as you found yourself fighting alongside Jinx. You listened as she took joy in the blaring sound of her gun firing before it was quickly replaced by a crazed rage. She switched back and forth between emotions like night and day as you fought together. Once Jinx had successfully cornered one of them, you noticed a distinct lack of fighting noises as you turned around.

That when you saw her.

Vi, knocked out on the shoulder of one of the firelights. Suddenly all the petty anger you felt when arguing with her earlier dispersed as you realized the very real possibility that you were about to lose her again. You had time to spend with her and you took it for granted. You spent it arguing. 

“Vi!” You cried, which quickly caught Jinx’s attention. Once she too noticed that they had taken Vi, she quickly charged at them only to be covered in a plume of smoke. You tried your best not to inhale whatever black substance was used to create the smoke.

And as the cloud dissipated you realized…

She was gone.

[lxmelle]

Just some thoughts on 270

Yes the end is near.

Yes I almost threw up when I saw that unmistakable hairstyle...

Yes I was a bit disappointed that there were no visible satosugu crumbs - or are there? More on this later... and the it overall just felt a little bit 😔 empty 😪

Nevertheless, I want to just blab about a few things.

First, is it Geto/Kenjaku?

If we think about how Yuta’s copy CT works, Rika would need to consume a viable part of the sorcerer. The only part of Kenny left was his whole brain. He was the brain. The rest is Geto. We have not seen any evidence of Yuta having CSM, so it can be assumed that Yuta did not have Rika eat any part of Geto. Otherwise, it’s be Geto’s CT and not Kenjaku’s body-hopping technique.

Imho: The person with Takaba is not likely to be either Kenny or Geto. Geto cannot function without a brain, there was none “spare” either, so the theory of a spirit entering the body is going to make it alive again - no, it doesn’t. There is no other living sorcerer who can do that - Ui Ui maxed it out with the number of times and there is no other person to swap with. Just. Not. Possible.

And Kenny was seen to have told Mimiko and Nanako that he took Geto’s brains out to inhabit it.

So. My conclusion is that Gege is baiting. Just as he did with the “we have to help Yuta!” And the rude yelling that got so many of us wondering just who would speak to roughly to Yuta and what warranted it. We were all asking: who calls Yuta “Yuta” and not “Okkutsu-senpai” etc. I even thought it was Shoko, assuming that Maki was in the same hallway as the others, but the main culprit was of course the most obvious, Maki herself.

And that baiting thing with the clock theory about 2:21 pm linking with chapter 221 of Gojo’s unsealing - I theorised it’s about having presence (like how spiritualists, and in Shinto, believe that spirit is all around us) despite being dead and his soul with Geto.

And goodness know what other theories there are out there about time and Gojo revival. I’ve said before that I don’t buy into it, but it is interesting.

So is it Geto? Kenjaku? I 80% think not but... yeah, I am worried. To be completely transparent, I’m so scared that it is.

Because I’m in the camp of: please please Gege, please please please let Gojo and Geto be at peace in their eternal afterlife until they’re ready to be reborn and let them find each other over and over and over again.

So rationally, I doubt it is. But I’m worried. I’m worried for reasons like: why aren’t the bodies and resting places of Gojo & Geto still not mentioned?

Next thing to I have some thoughts on are about Itafushi. They’re really good friends and I think it’s also just one of those things Gege is doing because it’s JUMP and he doesn’t want to just pretend the Hana -> Megumi thing is forgotten. It also shows some character growth.

So overall, I’m rather neutral about the Megumi + Hana thing. They’re still kids, and Yuji + Megumi are compatible but they’re also not quite Satosugu, so their relationship will be undeniably different. Friends or otherwise.

It’s nice to see the Megumi is taking initiative and finding novel ways to make new meaning & connections. I wouldn’t read too deeply into it, especially since Hana obviously read too deeply into it and got it all wrong.

I will say that it feels cliche maybe. Again it’s maybe a JUMP serialisation thing shonen mangakas do, since a big portion of the fanbase are young boys too. Gege can’t be doing too much for lgbtq+ too obviously after all.

So it leaves me feeling it is a little reminiscent of the Sasuke and Sakura pairing in Naruto - as if it could become something seemingly out of convenience/settling/making do, but what do I know? Sometimes relationships in life are like that. I’d rather marry my best friend, but you know... different strokes for different folks. As they say.

Now it wouldn’t be me if I didn’t find a way to make it about satosugu. I’m imagining collective groans from people who may be reading this... so please skip if you’re bored of me now, lol. Or read on if you like to be in satosugu delulu brainrot like me.

One of the satosugu-related takeaways from this recent chapter is that it seems to reduce the possibility of interpreting Gojo not allowing Shoko to process Geto’s body as being out of consideration for her.

Her saying that the idiot should have let her process Geto’s body pretty much says Gojo took matters into his own hands. Not only was it protocol… but she also personally thought it would be a privilege. But Gojo did not let her.

We ofc don’t know the details.

So it leaves us with: He did it for his own reasons, or reasons at least relating to Geto. Kenjaku thought it was out of consideration. And Kenjaku is not a reliable narrator, nor was Geto... who tended to think he didn’t matter.

You know, as a person who can quietly just swallow vomit and shit rags without complaint. As a person who could practically transform the filth, negativity, evil, and darkness of the world into power that he could use for good - he was vessel of sacrifice.

Anyway, I digress.

It seems to indicate that Gojo kept his body to himself ... for his own reasons, breaking protocol.

And referring back to 270 again, for Shoko to talk about the afterlife right after preparing the body -> cremation is strange. Does preparing the body and cremating it have anything to do with the afterlife? 🤔 so somehow, prepare body -> cremate -> mourn/afterlife?

Interesting in that Gege is giving us yet another example of how everyone has a different reality / belief. If we believe what we saw in Gojo’s death, then there is one and Shoko will be proven wrong when her time comes like how Gojo was wrong about dying alone.

And it is also interesting in the sense that it’s familiar…

Something about how she said prior to Gojo’s unsealing, about “I couldn’t love either of you like you loved each other, but I was there too.” - am I reading too deeply? Probably. But it’s there for me to read.

Shoko prepared Tsumiki for cremation. She was made her beautiful for the afterlife - even if she was to be cremated, there was something about giving her something (dignity?) before she turned to ash. And those left behind can send them off into the afterlife feeling they did their best.

I think you’d need a certain level of trust for someone to hand your beloved over. Or at least feel like they would mourn the departed like you would. Or faith that your beloved would be happy with entrusting you with that decision. In some cultures, the family wash and swathe their dead in cloth with their own hands where possible.

So Shoko. Shoko could do it for Geto, for Gojo. She was there. She was willing. But. It was almost as if saying that Gojo 1. could not allow someone else to prepare Geto’s body, and neither did he seem to have mourned because 2. Geto was not cremated to be sent into the afterlife. As if he didn’t trust anyone. As if he could not let go.

Again, Rika kept Yuta’s body “alive” too. Parallels are paralleling.

I don’t know how Geto regenerated or if Kenny was responsible for it. Or if Gojo somehow did. But those are just unnecessary details at this point.

And again, Shoko was there but she could not be like what Gojo was to Geto and what Geto was to Gojo.

How complicated.

I’m reminded of that scene where he says to ichiji and Shoko: “There are just 3 of us remaining huh.”

In agreement to Shoko acknowledging that Geto’s body needed retrieving from Kenjaku, it was quite a pregnant pause from Gojo before he goes, “………yeah.”

He seemed surprised Shoko brought it up and decided to just gloss over it.

To me, it collectively implies that Gojo doesn’t let Geto be anyone else’s but his.

His friendship was his one and only. His loneliness was his. His dreams were his. His love was his. His life was his. His body was... his. And his soul was his too. As was his satisfaction.

I think Gege wants us to understand something here. By what he is showing and not showing us.

If I think about the exclusivity that they shared... the whole, “we are the strongest (together)” and “it wouldn’t be bad to be killed by you” or even “I’m jealous but if you were satisfied I’m glad for you.” and then “if you were there to pat me on the back I’d be satisfied.”

It’s a lot like... only YOU can be the one. And therefore I think Gojo kept Geto all to himself. Maybe thinking Geto would only want HIM to touch his body.

It was his exclusive right. And that was mutually shared... because Geto wasn’t really pleased with Gojo getting satisfaction from elsewhere (lol, you know, the “jealous” 妬けるね that got the fandom in a frenzy).

I’ve mentioned it in another post... link: https://www.tumblr.com/lxmelle/758015943938113536/i-love-the-idea-of-mutuality-that-is-deeply-rooted I really do like the idea of Gojo and Geto just teaching each other things. Like selfishness and love. Binding each other to the other. Selfishness and selflessness as part of being human.

Was this an act out of the side of Gojo that was “a little selfish, a little inhuman but a little too human”, and he wanted to keep Geto all to himself? Despite not giving his best friend a proper burial?

When I think about how he normally did what Geto approved of (you can dispute this if you wish) and I think back to how he might’ve really given Geto’s body back to his family- but what we saw in the manga seemed like they didn’t have much involvement either. Surely they’d have wanted Geto cremated?

So it leaves me with the idea that it was Gojo acting out his secret feelings.

Just Gege and how he shields Gojo’s privacy. Secret words. Secret thoughts. You know. Gege being Gege letting Gojo do Gojo things.

I think we might need to accept that Gojo and Geto just have this exclusive thing we aren’t privy to.

That’s all for now. Abrupt ending 🫡

Thanks for reading my rambling if you made it this far 🫶

Feel free to share your thoughts/comments/criticisms 😄

[kikyo-writes]

Can we get a scenario for Shigaraki with a healer girlfriend that always fusses over him when he gets injured?? And he tries to play it off like it's no big deal but he secretly loves being spoiled by her

The moment Shigaraki gets back to the hideout, he is greeted by your wide-eyed, panicked expression.  

“Tomura!” you cry out, rushing over to him. “What... what happened? You’re hurt!”  

Granted, you’re not wrong. Part of his clothing has been torn up, and there are noticeable gashes on his skin peeking through the frayed fabric. He's taken enough damage that he's even walking with a bit of a limp, and he has to admit that it’s a pain in the ass.  

Despite all that, Shigaraki just shrugs in response.  

“I’m fine,” he dismisses. “Just let my guard down for a bit. Don’t worry. The other guys are dead, so in comparison, they barely did anything to me.”  

You puff out your cheeks, and even though he knows you’re worried, you’re so goddamn cute that it’s kind of hard to take you seriously.  

“Just because you’re strong doesn’t mean you don’t need to take care of yourself,” you chastise him.  

Shigaraki shrugs again. “It’s no big deal. I barely even feel anything.”

That’s a total lie, but he does his best to act tough around you. Besides, it wouldn’t reflect well on him if the leader of the League of Villains was whining over a few little injuries, right?  

Instead of responding, you just roll your eyes, grab him by the wrist, then pull him into one of the rooms.  

“Even if it’s not a big deal to you, it is to me,” you remind him. You lightly push on his shoulders and force him to sit down. “Now, stay there. I’m not letting you leave until you’re good as new.”  

Apart from his mentor, All for One, Shigaraki is the most dangerous villain to date. There’s practically no one who doesn’t cower in fear when they hear his name. He’s powerful enough to reduce anything to dust, and he watches in delight as no-good heroes die from his bare hands.  

That’s the kind of person he is, and yet, you still worry about him.  

Shigaraki isn’t sure how it happened, but he must have plucked an angel from the sky. Well, a corrupted angel who willingly supports a murderer, but an angel all the same.  

You lean forward, knitting your brows together, and slowly but surely, your palms begin to glow with bright, warm light.  

Even Shigaraki, as determined as he is to act unbothered, can’t help but sigh in relief as you press your gentle, glowing fingers against his injuries. He can feel the pain ebb away, gradually at first, and then all at once.  

Seriously, he struck the goldmine. Not only does his party have a healer now, but she’s also his super-hot girlfriend. Lately, he has to admit that life is pretty damn good.  

“How does that feel?” you ask, making sure not to apply too much pressure.  

Shigaraki nods sleepily. There’s something about your Quirk that makes him let his guard down and feel especially at ease. Although that can be said about being around you in general.  

You run your fingers over every single wound, even the ones that are small enough not to warrant any attention. His body is back to being in near-perfect shape, but he knows that using your Quirk comes at the cost of your own energy, and you let out a heavy sigh, slumping down onto his lap.  

“That’s why I said you didn’t need to do this,” Shigaraki frowns. “Look. You’re exhausted now.”  

You shake your head, mustering up a smile. “No. It’s fine. A bit of fatigue is nothing if I know that you’re safe. I just always want you to be safe. Okay, Tomura?”  

Before he can even respond, you cradle his cheek and lead his lips towards yours, meeting him in a soft, featherlight kiss. His face instinctively flushes, and he wraps his arms around you as quickly as possible, hoping to prolong the moment.  

“I know you only worry because you care,” he acknowledges. His lips trace yours for a moment, and when he kisses you again, it’s deeper and more urgent than before. “I... love you,” he mumbles. As usual, it’s hard for him to say the words. He always thought that someone like him didn’t deserve love, wasn’t even capable of it. But meeting you changed that, and now, he knows better.  

“I love you too, Tomura.”  

You smile back at him again. Perhaps he’s biased because you’re his girlfriend, but he really thinks you’re the most gorgeous human being on the entire planet. You make him feel warm and comfortable. He’s strong enough to kill anyone who dares to fuck with him, that much is true, but even so, it’s nice having someone who puts his wellbeing first. 

Shigaraki squeezes you tight, and he watches in adoration as your eyelids slowly fall shut, the strain of your Quirk finally catching up with you. If you happen to fall asleep on his lap, he knows he won’t be moving for the next couple of hours. But it’s fine.  

You took care of him, and now it’s his turn to take care of you.  

[johnwickb1tsch]

bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 39 all chapters

WARNING: NSFW, SEXUAL CONTENT, VIOLENCE, YANDERE SH!T. Plz take care. I luv u all. 😘

39. pool time  

You float in the pool, cooling off after a day of training. Not so much your body, as your head. 

John yelled at you earlier for not clearing a chamber jam fast enough for his liking–and you are tired of all of this. 

Mariko continues to kick the shit out of you every other day–but you are learning a lot, so you take it. Just when you think you might be earning her begrudging respect–she finds some new way to put you in your place–and on your face.

John drills you at the range and on the speed course, and you didn’t think you were doing too bad, until about an hour ago. But the slide stuck and the spring was tight and the checkered metal hurt your sore fingers and the guns are heavy…you’re over it.

You don’t even want to go to Argentina anymore. You just want to go home. 

The only one in the pool, you swim back and forth aimlessly, underwater and above, changing your strokes every few passes then floating again. 

This situation is wearing on John too. If they don’t show soon…you don’t know what he’s going to do. Something that will probably mean leaving you here, in safety, while he goes off to do what he does. 

Which according to Winston, is starting fires in the Underworld he doesn’t quite know how to put out, without killing everyone. 

The thought of him going on another rampage terrifies you. 

You sense the shadow of someone standing over you at the side of the pool. Expecting John, you right yourself in the water, looking up.

“I did not know the New York Continental boasted its own mermaid.”

So. Not. John.

You immediately sink again in the water, peering up at the newcomer with narrowed eyes. You’re not sure which clue put you on edge immediately: the wolfish way he looks down at you, his elegant yet flashy manner of dress–or his Italian accent. 

You say nothing in return, your heart in your throat. Somehow, you just know. 

“Allow me to introduce myself. Dante D’Antonio.” He squats down at the side of the pool, paying you a cruel little smile. A lock of his dark, curly hair falls down over his forehead; he’s handsome, but there is something missing in his hazel-green eyes as he stares you down. You’ll admit it. He scares the shit out of you. 

“Your fiancé killed my mother.” 

“Prepare to die?”

“What?”

“Sorry, I thought we were quoting The Princess Bride here.”

“What?” 

“It’s good that you’ve come, signor D’Antonio,” you say more carefully, kicking yourself for being a smartass in this world where everyone spoke carefully and in metaphor, because crossing the wrong person could literally mean losing your head. “My fiancé has been getting impatient.” 

“It was never his strong suit, so I’ve heard.” 

“And yet, you harass him. There are a lot of dead people who would tell you that’s not a smart move.” 

He waves you off with a flourish of his wrist. You are so tempted to splash him. “John Wick is an old man whose time has passed. It is a shame, he would involve a pretty little innocent like you in the crossfire.”

You glare at this man, sinking up to your nose in the water. What is he doing here, talking to you?

“D’Antonio.” 

John’s low voice draws you like a beacon. He stands at the other end of the pool, a dark pillar of death. The air positively crackles with tension, and then it dawns on you that this is d’Antonio’s purpose. Rile John Wick to the point of doing violence on Continental grounds, and make him sign his own death warrant.

Again.

You might have missed it once, but now you can see the bulge under John’s expertly tailored suit jacket. You know he’s wearing a loaded Glock on his hip, and that he could end this troublesome young man in about 1.5 seconds.

That would just be the beginning of your troubles. 

You remember what Winston cautioned you, about what John might do to a perceived threat of you. Fuck. 

“John…” you caution, swimming quickly for the ladder that is conveniently situated between the two men, intending to put yourself between them. Dread floods your system, as you fear you’ll be too late.  “Save it for the parlay,” you beg between strokes. 

If Dante d’Antonio was here, surely the others were on their way? It would be madness, otherwise, for the boy to show his face to John Wick?

“Yes, John. Don’t do anything rash,” taunts Dante with a smarmy grin, one hand stuffed casually in his waistcoat pocket.  

It all happens so fast. 

John rushes the kid, closing the distance between them in the blink of an eye. 

Dante balks, clearly not having thought through his life choices, facing down the John Wick with no bodyguards and no weapon to his name. 

You don’t think John actually touches the young man, but Dante manages to stumble over his own Gucci-clad feet in his panic–into the pool, in that beautiful silk suit. 

You watch this transpire open mouthed, half-hoisted up on the ladder. 

John’s iron grip on your arm pulls you out the rest of the way from the pool, snatching your towel from a chair as the two of you power-walk out, draping your dripping form with the soft terry cloth as Dante d’Antonio hurls angry Italian expletives after your retreating forms. 

“Are you going to get into trouble for that?” you hiss, your teeth chattering from the temperature change and the adrenaline. 

“I didn’t even touch him,” defends John, bundling you into the elevator. “What a little bitch.”

You snort at that. You are weightless for a moment, as the elevator rises. 

“Go to the room,” John orders you at the fifth floor. 

“Where are you going?” You try not to sound like a scared little girl, certain you fail. You’re not mad anymore. Just anxious, and you realize, a bit excited. Finally, something is happening.

“To talk to Winston.” 

Of course. 

“Hurry back to me?” 

He presses his lips to yours, then gently nudges you towards the hall. “Always.”

[i-guess-im-into-this-now]

The Apothecary Diaries

S1E24 First Watch

Here's where I watch The Apothecary Diaries for the first time and give my thoughts, analysis, predictions, and occasionally I stumble into a joke.

If you want to start at the beginning:

Episode 1

My character/locations cheat sheet:

Master Shishou - Lady Loulan's father

Suirei: court lady who tried to assassinate Jinshi

Final episode of season one let's go!

Lakan: Fengxian. I wanted to be with the daughter we (she)* left behind. That was my only wish.

*There is a mismatch of the words being spoken in English dub and the English subtitles.

Oh does he think Fengxian is dead? Shit. Do I need to retract some of the mean shit I said about him last time?

We see Lakan sitting in the brothel staring at the dried rose that Maomao left for him, and the severed fingers that he treasures. He's thinking of seeing Maomao as a child

Lakan: It's natural for her to hate me, but I still wanted her close by.

So he did try to come and claim Maomao at some point. And why couldn't he? Did the ladies at Verdigris House prevent him from taking her? Did Luomen? Did Lakan ultimately decide he couldn't raise this little girl for some other reason?

Lakan: But that despicable man. I'll never forgive him for placing his hand on my daughter's shoulder three times during our match.

First of all, we are still seeing these creepy game-piece-headed nightmares in this episode. When will it end?

Second of all, I didn't notice that Jinshi was touching Maomao in the last episode. I'm fairly certain it was not shown, which to me indicates that it happened but Maomao didn't take notice of it. Is casual touch so commonplace that it doesn't warrant notice, or was she so focused on the game that it was irrelevant.

Lastly, WTH Lakan? Wasn't he the one cracking jokes about Jinshi and Maomao last episode? And, can no one in this show read the fricking room? Obviously, there is something happening between these two. I suppose Lakan has an excuse with his face blindness, but honestly I expected better from him.

Lakan: The question is how do I exact my revenge?

Well Lakan, I think you'll have to choose between your two goals of having Maomao close by and exacting revenge on Jinshi, because those two goals are in opposition. If Lakan ever wants to have a relationship with Maomao, he will have to leave Jinshi alone, because Maomao is not going to tolerate Lakan screwing with her man employer.

Granny comes to talk to Lakan about picking a courtesan. I had this all wrong apparently. I thought Maomao was intending for him to take care of her mother. It seems he can pick any courtesan that he wants.

Lakan approaches Meimei, who says she would be glad to accept, though her body language says otherwise. She opens the doors to the courtyard where Fengxian can be heard singing. Granny is not happy, but Lakan takes off running towards the sound.

Lakan: A withered flower still retains it's beauty. If that was suppose to be a message... it can't be!

So he didn't know Fengxian was alive then? Which means I can't blame him for not stepping forward to care for her in the past.

Lakan runs, frantic, to where the singing is coming from. He enters Fengxian's room. She's turned away looking out the window, but she's singing a song that Lakan can't forget. And he's stunned. Like seeing a ghost. He's staring at a woman he thought was dead. A single tear falls down his face.

Ah shit. That's some good drama right there.

Lakan picks Fengxian. He'll pay any amount. Granny can't believe this. She's not happy. It doesn't make sense. Did she forget about the history between these two?

And what was granny's role in all of this anyway? Did she give Lakan the impression that Fengxian was dead? Why would she do that? Couldn't granny have taken advantage of Lakan's interest in Fengxian and sold off the otherwise worthless Fengxian? My guess is that Fengxian hated Lakan so much at that point, that Granny thought she needed to protect her from going to him. She's not as avaricious as she would make herself seem.

Fengxian is spacing out. To get her attention, Lakan places some Go pieces in her hand. When she finally turns to him, he asks her to play a game with him, then full on ugly cries.

It's a beautiful moment. After all the problems that kept these two apart, they are finally reunited.

They play on the bed, without a board, but it seems that at least this part of Fengxian's mind remains, because she's making cleaver moves. Lakan reminisces about how they used to play and credits Fengxian for Maomao's strengths. Does she deserve that credit...

Meimei is overwhelmed. She cries. She blames Granny for keeping these two apart.

Lakan says he will buy Fengxian's contract, and when he sees her he sees her as she was in her prime. Beautiful, without the bandages or the disease, or the any of the changes that time has wrought. Does he see her this way because of his love for her, or because of his face blindness?

I wonder how much of Fengxian's mind remains. How much does she understand about what is happening? How much, if at all can she consent to this? Perhaps that is Granny's concern as well. For someone so out of their mind, and at the end of their life, I can't see what Lakan's presence can do to benefit Fengxian. Perhaps he improves her legacy, by giving her tale a nicer ending, but as far as her experience of it goes... he's too late.

This is all for Lakan's benefit. He is reunited with the woman he loved, he get's to finally buy out her contract like he wanted to so many years ago. He gets to erase some of his regrets, correct some of his miscalculations. It's a redemption for him, though a selfish one since he is the only one who benefits from it. Arguably, Verdigris House benefits as well, but he sure as hell ain't doing this for them. I could listen to an argument that he is doing this in part because he believe Maomao wants him to, but primarily, I think this is all for himself.

(I'm sorry Lakan fans. I will try harder on the rewatch to unearth some love for your dude)

Maomao is returning from the Verdigris House with ray-of-sunshine, Basan! They oversee Lady Loulan and her father conversing, and Basan calls the two of them snakes. Maomao, rightly, thinks that's a pretty dangerous thing to say. She doesn't want to lose her head just because Basan can't keep his nasty opinions to himself. And though Maomao always avoids gossip, I very much want to know what Basan knows about Lady Loulan and Master Shishou.

Maomao is dead tired, she has been working her ass off for the last month to grow those roses for the Garden Party, and now she just wants to sleep, but Basan informs her that Jinshi wants to see her first.

Jinshi: You must be tired. Maomao: Not really.

Why lie about this? My guess is that Maomao doesn't want anyone to fuss over her. Her wellbeing isn't important anyway, so why mention how she feels?

But Suiren does worry over Maomao, mentioning how much weight she's lost since the last time she saw her. Good. I'm glad to see this more obvious show of care for Maomao. I really just want everyone to love on this girl and take care of her.

Oh and she's "Xiaomao" to Suiren now too. ❤️She gets a nice big meal and is told to eat up.

Jinshi wants to know what the deal is with Maomao and her dad. Maomao explains that she doesn't hate Lakan.

Maomao: Afterall, I would not even be here if he weren't able to land his shot so to say. ... No courtesan bears a child if she doesn't want one.

And that makes a lot of sense actually. Maomao explains how women can prevent pregnancy, abort unwanted pregnancies, predict their fertility... it all points to the conclusion that Fengxian wanted to use Lakan to get pregnant.

Last episode we saw how Fengxian's plan all came crashing down by unforeseen circumstances. In her rage she cut off both her own finger as well as that of her infant.

Maomao explains to Jinshi about Lakan's face blindness. Jinshi, who has no issues with empathy, thinks that's unfortunate. Luomen was the one who told Maomao about Lakan's condition, and he also thinks the condition is quite sad. I wonder if Maomao knows that Luomen is Lakan's uncle? Maomao thinks that Lakan's obsession with her comes from the fact that she is one of the very few people whom Lakan can recognize.

Jinshi has kept a large vase of the blue roses that Maomao grew for him, because he's in love with her they were just going to be thrown out otherwise, and Maomao reflects while looking at them. She wonders if her meaning was clear enough when she sent the withered rose to Lakan.

She claims again that she doesn't hate Lakan. She's grateful to have been born and have been raised by Luomen. Jinshi pushes back, recalling her intense reaction when Lakan's name came up before.

Maomao: No offense, but you've got a lot to learn Master Jinshi.

You don't know me. Yet.

Maomao is also grateful that Lakan helped her interrupt the ceremony that would have killed Jinshi.

Maomao: It's like he had a feeling something bad was going to happen too.

Gee, almost like he knew somethin about it, or had figured it out already?

Maomao explains that Lakan doesn't need evidence to form his conclusions. He can pick up on subtleties that aren't even conscious, to use gut feelings that are rarely wrong. Maomao regrets that Lakan can't be depended on to actually act on these feelings. She believes she could have stopped Suirei from escaping if Lakan had gotten involved earlier and she would now have the secret resurrection drug that Suirei hinted at.

Maomao is jealous of Lakan. Luomen praises Lakan without caveats, something she can only wish for. Friends. I know you all think I'm too hard on Luomen, and it's probably true. And I feel compelled to say that I don't hate him or even dislike him. I know Maomao loves Luomen and he's done all he can for her. But she's still hurt by his lack of praise. It's had an effect on her emotional and psychological development.

Maomao warns Jinshi not to underestimate Lakan.

Gaoshun adds that no father wants to be disliked by their children. Okay Gaoshun, are you projecting here? Some dads are dicks, and absolutely deserve to be disliked whether they like it or not. Does Gaoshun worry that his children don't like him? Is it because Basan is his son? He really shouldn't take Basan's pissy attitude personally, he's like that with everyone!

Meimei sends a package with a beautiful shawl and news from the brothel. She hopes that Maomao will dance for her when she is bought out. Maomao actually picks up the shawl and spins around with a soft sigh. Does Maomao enjoy dancing? Something she picked up at the brothel perhaps?

Maomao seems inspired by the gift. She sits down in front of her makeup and a beautiful outfit that is on a rack in her room.

Cut to Jinshi watching the sunset. Is the sunset just a transition to a night scene or is it symbolic of closure in the story? We are coming to the end of not just this episode but this entire season, so a sunset is certainly appropriate.

Maomao stands atop the wall of the palace, dressed in her finery, looking out to the bright city beyond. We get a glimpse of Maomao's yet unhealed leg, her freckles, her lovely courtesan's dress, her beauty. An amalgamation of all the different parts that make up Maomao. She is here to dance, as Meimei suggested. Here on the same wall where two other women have stood earlier in the season with drastically different results.

The show revisits a recurring theme from throughout the season: for women who live in a cage there are only two ways out, freedom or death.

First we had seen the concubine who danced atop the wall as she waited for her lover to return and secure her release. Freedom.

Later we saw the servant girl who plunged into the moat to end her life. Death.

And now Maomao, who often walks the line between the two. Over the course of this season we've seen her struggle with both. When the servant girl died, we heard suicidal ideation from Maomao. We've also seen her ingest deadly poison. Always flirting with death, not sure if she should welcome it or fight against it.

And freedom. We've seen her at the crossroads of her life, with decisions ahead of her. Particularly, with whether she should remain in the Pleasure District or return to the Rear Palace. And Maomao struggled with freedom, caught by indecision.

In this moment, under the stars, she doesn't have to think. She's feeling. A deviation from her usual modus operandi. Perhaps with Meimei's letter she can let go of some of the turmoil from her past. Fengxian is with Lakan now, that knot that has finally been undone. Her sisters in Verdigris House are safe and happy for the moment, with hope for each of their futures. Maomao is in the Rear Palace to watch over Lady Gyokuyou and the ladies of the Jade Pavilion. And Jinshi is safe, after both an attempt on his life by Suirei and an attempt on his reputation from Lakan. So for the moment the people Maomao loves are safe, and she can stand on top of a wall and dance under the stars and just feel.

Of course the practical reason behind it is that she's practicing to make sure she remembers the steps. Meimei asked her to dance for her after all.

And Jinshi is here. It's the end of the final episode. I'd be disappointed if he didn't show up.

She's so surprised to see him, she nearly falls off the roof. Maomao... I know you are an anime girl but isn't that a little cliché...

No matter, it offers Jinshi a chance to catch her. He always will.

Jinshi: I got a report about another weird woman who was climbing up the outer wall.

It's a recurring problem in this palace.

Jinshi: You're always causing me trouble.

And you fricking love it. Shut up.

Maomao was recognized by the guard that saw her go up the wall, and the guard was wise enough to go directly to Jinshi. Of course Jinshi came himself.

Maomao explains that in the Pleasure District, that when a courtesan is bought out that it is customary for the others to dance in her honor. Ahh, so she's dancing for her mother then.

That Lakan has bought a courtesan is big news in the Pleasure District, and even in the palace. The number of lamps on the street, as well as the number of banquet days, indicate that a courtesan of the highest status was bought out, though the public never sees her. We get a glimpse of Fengxian in red. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I believe red is the color of wedding garments. I'm not sure if that's intentional here or not. But in any case, no one, not even me, can mistake Lakan's grand romantic gesture in treating Fengxian with so much respect.

Jinshi questions who Lakan may have bought out at the Verdigris House, and Maomao plays dumb, which is not fooling Jinshi.

Jinshi: Just who did the strategist buy out any way? Maomao: What? As if I should know. Jinshi: Yes. Without a doubt. Maomao: No matter how beautiful she is, she would never be a match for you. Jinshi: That didn't answer my question.

She doesn't want to say. And he's not going to push her. She tries to deflect, and he lets her. He once again is asking her to open up to him, and she is still saying not yet. But Jinshi never gives up on Maomao. He will simply let her have her secrets for now. But he's so steadfast in his pursuit of Maomao that the audience can have no doubt that he will continue to try.

Fengxian won't last long. She's in the end stages of her disease. Maomao reflects on how her birth affected the reputation of Verdigris House. No one spoke to Maomao about who her mother was, because Grams tried to protect that information, but Maomao discovered it anyway. Prideful Fengxian couldn't recover from the shame of her failed plans, her loss of reputation, and she always chased Maomao away. Maomao claims that none of it matters to her. She's just happy being Luomen's daughter. I don't believe she's so unaffected, but that's an issue for a future season!

Maomao's macabre fun facts are not in fact fun for Jinshi, as she explains that you can cut off the tip of your finger and that it will grow back. I'm glad she didn't lose this part of her that was taken by one parent to curse the other. Instead it grew back. She may be scarred from the experience but she is whole. A metaphor.

When Maomao collapses, Jinshi demands to know what's wrong to which Maomao rambles off a list of horrifying truths. Maomao's leg wound won't heal. It has opened up again. She didn't notice it because she has a high pain tolerance. Probably due to all the drugs she's taken. No problem, she can just plop down and stitch it right back up.

NO. That's not happening. Jinshi has fucking had it with this girl. He then picks her up and leaps. off. the. wall. It was a little hot. I'm so used to Jinshi simping and being generally uncool, that I get caught off guard when he's actually being hot. Maomao does too. Especially since he switches to a princess carry.

Maomao gets deadly serious for a moment. She stares Jinshi in the eyes, touches his face and leans in. Jinshi is thinking this is it. It's finally happening. Only for Maomao to ask if she can now have the ox bezoar. Is she trying to provoke him? She gets headbutted for that one. I'm typically against physical violence, but I have to say, this seems justified. Maomao is happy about it too, because now she knows she's dealing with the real Jinshi.

Lady Gyokuyou pays for premium so she gets front row access to her favorite romcom. Jinshi has come to see Maomao. This final interaction is just basically this whole show in a nutshell. The ladies of the Jade Pavilion are teasing Maomao, because they love her, and they know her boyfriend totally platonic employer is watching. Jinshi says something interesting has come up and he thought of Maomao, which of course peaks her curiosity. We don't get to hear what Jinshi wanted to ask of Maomao, but we get the impression that things will carry on much as they have been until we can see these beloved characters again.

The storytellers promise us a second season. So yay!

Thanks to the like 10 people who enjoyed this blog. It was very fun for me to write. Your comments, likes and reblogs gave me life.

I loved getting to know these characters and trying to get inside their heads. The characters are so well written, and the plot is so big and juicy. There seems to be no end to the layers of the story. It's truly fantastic.

The Apothecary Diaries is a new favorite of mine now, and since I've made it to the end of this season, I'm looking forward to not having to scroll past JinMao content on my feed to avoid spoilers!

I haven't decided if I should hold out for more of the show and continue to watch it with fresh eyes like I did for this blog, or if I should just jump into the light novels or manga. Does anyone know, are both of those things complete with a good English translation?

This won't be my last content for The Apothecary Diaries. I'm known to compulsively shit post in the fandoms I follow, so I'm sure I won't be able to resist doing that. But, perhaps once I've had some time to think on this I will have some more meta analysis to offer. I do plan to rewatch the entire season. Though I won't reblog to this degree, I may jump back in the comments on some of these blogs and add some new insights.

If you like this kind of thing and want me to do it for another one of your favorites let me know! My recommendations box is ever open. I love any kind of engaging story, in any format, and am happy (unable to stop myself) to post about it on the internet! Just tell me what you love and where to start.

Until then I guess I'm into this now.

To start at the beginning:

Episode 1

[cherrycocaineee]

35. Joker - Safe With Me

*Warning: I’ve incorporated characters from both Gotham and Suicide Squad. Mention of Violence. Abuse. Legal Age Gap. Whatever else is considered a warning.*

Synopsis: After one of the most intense beatings she’s ever experienced by her father, Paisley runs away; only taking a pre-packed backup with her and ditching her cell. Not wanting to go to the Joker, afraid of what he’d do to her father if she did, she goes to an abandoned building instead. But being the property of the Joker means that he knows where she’s at at all times.

* Paisley’s p.o.v *

It was the worst it had ever been before; and even though it had been two hours since I had just experienced the most gruesome beating in my life, the pain was still fresh. The bruises formed almost immediately, and there were popped blood vessels in my eye coloring the white part red. My face was sticky with old tears, new ones adding to the mess as I looked at the mirror in my room. I hadn’t done anything wrong that warranted this type of outburst, in fact, it had nothing to do with me at all. Apparently, dad was going through some things at work that had him considering leaving Gotham; which I found out meant that he might lose his job if he stayed. He was so stressed out that he drank too much before coming home to take his drunken frustration out on me to make himself feel better.

   I moved some of my blonde hair out of my face; dry blood had crusted into my hair from the cut that it hid. My other hand reached up and touched my busted lip, wincing as I felt the sting of how fresh it was. I tried not to look at the thousands of bruises littering my body or the sharp pain in my ribs that might indicate a broken bone. The only thing I could think of the entire time I cried and looked at my wounds was that I couldn’t do this anymore, and that I deserved better than what I was getting. So I quietly opened my closet door, listening intently to the television downstairs, then grabbed my pre-packed bag out from underneath a few extra quilts and blankets. I was never worried about dad going through my belongings, I was worried about Freddy going through my things and finding stuff that I didn’t want to have to explain to him or my dad.

I didn’t plan on taking my cell phone with me, so I made sure to block the Joker’s number and hope that when I did see him again, he’d understand. I even deleted our messages so no one could go through them when they realized I was gone. I opened my underwear drawer and pulled out a wad of cash that I had been saving up from allowances. Once I had everything that I needed, I opened my window and crawled onto the extended tree limb that normally helped me sneak back in after my nights with Mister J. As soon as my feet touched the ground, I took off down the streets as quietly and quickly as I could. I didn’t want to catch anyone’s attention. All I wanted to do was get away from this man who was no longer my father.

    There really wasn’t anywhere I could go where someone didn’t recognize me; the whole city practically knew who my dad was, even the criminals knew. I’d go to the Joker later but right now, I was afraid of what he’d do once he saw me in this state. In the meantime, I dodged anyone I thought could recognize me and call home to inform my dad that I was wandering the streets of Gotham late at night. After some time, I had managed to walk my way into some abandoned building that I’d never noticed before. Glass covered every inch of the ground, mixing with the gray sand and dead grass, all of the windows were boarded up and I wondered if maybe the windows were broken on purpose when they closed down. It also could have been teenagers breaking in, similar to what I was doing. I could read the sign that was painted on the moldy bricks because it was too faded.

  “God,” I mumbled, “This is definitely how people die.”

  But even that was a better fate than being alive and beaten.

Taking a large breath, I made my way into the building. There were no lights on but the small cracks in the foundation allowed a few slips of moonlight to give me direction. In the distance, I could hear a small bubbling sound coming from a room. A green, illuminated light peeped underneath the door that contained it. Swallowing hard, I shuffled to the door and pushed it open; an eerie creek echoed off the empty, damp walls. Leading through the room was a high pavement of metal that looked wet like everything else in the building, however, surprisingly it wasn’t rusted. I placed my foot on the metal carefully and listened for anything that would indicate I’d fall to my doom. When I was reassured that it was safe, I started walking further into the room. Underneath the walkway were enormous vats of green, steaming liquid that I recognized easily; the only reason I knew what it was was because of the lesson we did in chemistry class. It was acid. I was quickly reminded of Harley’s beginning, how it all started for her here. Part of me always wondered if the Joker kept me around to fill in the hole Harley left, if he really cared about me at all or was he doing it all to help him then toss me to the side. I was afraid to tell him that, to see what his reaction would be. Would he hit me like my father did when he was angry? Would he just leave me? Would I ruin something that I considered perfect in its own way?

    I eventually made it to the edge of the path and peered down at the rolling acid beneath me. I remembered telling Mister J that I didn’t want to end up diving into a pit of acid and becoming the new Harley, and he had been okay with it but I still wondered if that were the case. Sighing gently, I sat down and let my feet dangle over the edge. The drop looked further than it probably was, like if I was peering down at the mess beneath me from a tower. More tears slid down my cheeks and I buried my head into my hands as I started to sob uncontrollably like I had at home.

Time seemed to speed by while I sat alone, crying and wallowing in my own self pity. When I was officially cried out, I wiped all of the tears away as well as the small amount of snot bubbling at the end of my nose. I was so preoccupied that I didn’t notice the door opening or feet approaching me until I had a feeling someone was standing behind me. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, sending a rush of fear rolling through my body. I was afraid that my dad had found me here and that I would receive more than what I’d gotten earlier. But that fear was tossed out the window when I heard the Joker’s voice.

   “What do you think you’re doing?” He hissed, angry by the fact that I had blocked his number.

 “I just needed some time to think,” I whispered, never making eye contact with him so he couldn’t see my face.

  “You blocked my number,” his breathing was huffier, angrier, “Is that your way of telling me you’re done with me?”

  That time, I couldn’t even form the words to explain myself. All of the emotions resurfaced as I began to choke on sobs again, covering my mouth to quiet them to no avail. Mister J kneeled beside me, gripping my shoulders hard and forcing me to look at him. His eyes were cold and hard, dangerous and calculating; probably all of the ways to kill me. Then they softened and relaxed when he saw the condition I was in.

  “I had to leave,” I cried, “It was so much worse than…than before. And I had to block your number so he wouldn’t see I’d been speaking to you, in case he found me.”

 “Why didn’t you come to me, Paisley?”

 “Because I don’t want you to kill him! He’s my fa-father!”

I buried my head into the silk of his shirt, gripping the leather of his jacket while more sobs escaped. Drool started gathering onto his shirt creating a wet stain but he didn’t say anything. Instead, Mister J wrapped his strong, thick arms around me in comfort while brushing my hair with his fingers. When his fingers found the blood tangled in my hair, he froze but still kept whatever was brewing in his head to himself. Once again, I felt cried out so I pulled away, wiping away the drool and tears from my face as well as his shirt, at least the best I could.

  “I sh-shouldn’t have blocked you,” I croaked, “but I didn’t know what else to…to do. I’m so tired. Drained.”

  Mister J sat beside me, keeping his arm around me firmly.

 “Luckily,” Mister J muttered, his voice still rough with anger, “I know exactly how to find someone when I need to.”

 “How did you find me?” I asked, sniffling.

 “Someone I work close to saw you walking down the street with a frightened face. I figured it was because you were scared of me finding you but now that I’m looking at you, I know that wasn’t the case.”

  Mister J pulled his cell phone out of his jacket pocket and clicked around before putting the phone to his ear. I stared up at him, wondering who he was calling right now.

 “Frost,” he said, answering my unspoken question, “Go to Paisley’s home and collect the rest of her things to bring back home. And take her dad too.”

My eyes widened and I tried to tell him no or anything else that would get him to leave my dad alone. When he hung up on Frost, I pushed him off of me angrily.

“I told you I didn’t want you to kill him!” I snapped.

  Mister J stared at me with a large grin on his face. His silver teeth glowing in the moonlight and the green, illuminating acid. I shook my head; it felt like he wasn’t taking any of this seriously. I climbed to my feet and grabbed my pre-packed runaway kit then started to leave. Mister J was quick to his own feet and grabbed my arm to keep me from leaving.

 “He hurt you and he continues to hurt you. He wants to take you away from me too, and I can’t allow that. I won’t allow that. As long as you and I are together, Paisley, you belong to me, and I won’t allow anything to happen to you like with Harley. Especially when I could have put an end to it. I listened, I didn’t go near him and I didn’t kill him like you asked but enough's enough.”

  My bag slipped off my shoulder, hitting the metal with a loud thud.

 “But I…what will I do?” I whispered.

 “You’ll come stay with me like we’ve talked about.”

 “People will come looking for me.”

 “We’ll fake your own death. They’ll think you and your dad died.”

 “What if I want to go out and get coffee or just for a walk or to pick something up?”

 “Then you’ll go with the guards so they can watch and protect you, otherwise, you’ll be with me. You’ll be safe, Paisley.”

I wiped away the remaining tears and looked up at his icy blue eyes with my own. He was watching me, reading everything he could off my face to see if I’d agree or not. How could I say no? He’d always taken care of me before, he listened and didn’t act when he discovered my dad was beating me or that he wanted to take me out of Gotham. Mister J had never given me a reason to distrust him, even his anger and the way he acted sometimes didn’t scare me because he didn’t take his anger out on me. In fact, he treated me like a princess all the time.

  I reached out and took the hand that wasn’t grabbing onto me. It was covered in tattoos and thick calluses. I led him back to where we had been sitting and pulled him down beside me. I rested my head against his shoulder and sighed. Our outer thighs touched and I kept our hands entwined with one another.

   “Okay,” I said, “I’ll come stay with you. But I swear to God, if you ever lay your hands on me the way he did…”

  No more words left my mouth as Mister J burst into laughter, the sound stretching across the room creating an echo.

  “I’m serious,” I protested.

 “I know,” he laughed, “that’s what makes it hilarious because you think I’d stoop so low as to hit someone as pretty as you.”

  “You’re so unlike yourself when you’re around me.” A giggle left my own lips.

 “Is that so?” He hummed.

I nodded.

And it was true too. Everyone knew how the Joker really was to people; he was a ruthless killer who had no problem manipulating his way out of any situation so he could get what he wanted. But that had never been the case with me; he had approached me, he asked me to be with him, and he continued to see me afterwards without asking for anything besides my loyalty. I didn’t even have to get him out of Arkham when he wound up in there, I just had to promise to come see him on the days I visited my mom and had to be with him once he got out. It was like our relationship was purely based on a need for someone to love him because he didn’t have that anymore. How he ended up falling in love with me was still a mystery but I knew how I fell in love with him. And I didn’t regret being in love with him. If Mister J swore he was going to take care of me and treat me the way I deserved to be treated, then I didn’t mind the darker side of him.

   “Paisley,” Mister J called out.

  I looked up at him and hummed in acknowledgment.

   “I love you.”

  It was the first time he had ever said that to me before. I smiled, nibbling on my bottom lip as I felt happiness erupt inside me.

  “I love you too, Mister J.”

  He climbed to his feet and held out his hand. I didn’t hesitate to take it and he easily pulled me off the metal platform. Not another word was spoken between the two of us as we left the abandoned building. And for the first time in a long time, I knew I was going to be able to sleep peacefully without the fear of being woken in the middle of the night to be punished.

 It was refreshing.

Taglist: @w4nt-h1s-d1ck @leaveitbythewave @ellatitanium @gaymistakeboi @erika-solic @weepingwitchofthewest

[scoobydoodean]

ok lol officially most annoying anon in the world (“mischaracterization” anon who just said they were abdicating from the convo 4 being high as balls which. is real and i should stop cuz atp im p sure the whole point of what ur getting at is going over my head lmfao) BUT in terms of what u said u were getting at in ur poll (like if the writers were cognizant of it or if it’s more a display of their own internal biases? again im stupid and high sorry if im once again missing the point by a mile)… BUT

I don’t have any strong inclinations either way but if I had to choose I’d have to say it’s more their own internal/personal bias’s coming out rather than something they were expecting the audience to pick up on and maybe think about. And the only reason I say this is because the identities/status of the people she killed were never really explicitly stated (at least from what i can immediately recall of the episodes) or brought up again.

like it’s notttt rlly brought up throughout the episode aside from just learning that those people are dead and she killed them? like idk nothing about it rlly inclines me to believe it was anything more than subconscious or latent beliefs in the writers because I do think we were supposed to empathize with her so it does make sense in that sort of lens that the writers chose “criminals” or whatever to kinda “soften the blow”, if u will, of her having killed people?

idk. i wanna know what what u think tho!!! like in terms of the poll u posted what would ur answer be?

I have mixed feelings about it, because I think the previous associations the writers have made with Sam and class (as well as Dean and class—for example—in 2.20 "What Is And What Should Never Be") make it very possible it's intentional. Sam justifies Amy's actions partly based on class, and Dean condemns her actions partly for the same reason—that she doesn't get to kill people and get away with it just because they're beneath her on the social ladder. It seems so obvious that one wants to assume it's very intentionally and purposefully done.

At the same time, you are right that the presentation of the story—told through the mouth of a cop and a few newspaper clippings—is heavily biased against the victims. The cop says the third victim deserved it because he had been in and out of jail for petty offenses, and Sam calls him a "low life". You have to work very hard to capture the story of the second victim in the newspaper article. You really can't capture the story on those pages without really sitting down to read, paused on the correct frames. A prominent part of the article is focusing on the victim being a heroin addict who had relapsed and was high when he went to the park. He was vulnerable and "in the wrong place at the wrong time". What gets me the most though is the prominent headline for the first victim: "Body found in park, victim known to police". What a gross way to poison the well. The barely visible subheading reads: "Man had been arrested multiple times, had outstanding warrant". (Again—these multiple arrests indicate petty offenses rather than felonies—probably another addict). When Amy makes an attempt on another victim in the park (only to be stopped by Sam), the target is drunk and fumbling with his keys, trying to get into his locked car. So in every case, the presentation not just from Amy and Sam and the cop but the episode as a whole attempts to bias the audience against the victims, trying to paint them as people who shouldn't be missed, who deserved what they got, and/or whose vulnerability was to blame for what happened to them.

Amy seems to target people who are high or drunk in the park at night because they're vulnerable and alone. I think some fans jump to frame her choice of targets as vigilantism that helps assuage her guilt, but none of those people deserved to die—and it really isn't vigilantism—she's simply following her own mother's shrewd M.O.—you target people who are alone and whose situational awareness is impeded by substances and whose deaths the cops won't put much effort into investigating because they don't see them as victims.

I also think this episode tries very hard to paint Dean in a negative light even prior to him killing Amy. Bobby insists Dean's concern over Sam's well-being isn't warranted when it is perfectly warranted. (We've seen Bobby brush off Dean's reasonable concerns before in 6.06). Then Sam pops off, cutting Dean off to throw a bunch of nonsense in his mouth, and conflating himself with Amy in an absolutely ridiculous way. Dean's voice is suppressed (which is also imo—a prominent feature of the Dabb era in general later in the series). On top of that, this certainly isn't the only episode where Dabb and Loflin's most overt messages try to bias the audience against Dean.

[sylusjinwoon]

{ 89 }

OK overture.

denji x fem.reader

10 stages of love

{ but i'm not dead yet, so i guess i'll be alright. }

1. first sight

you weren't expecting your life as a university student to be so damn difficult or boring. barely twenty years old, you had high hopes of experiencing the exciting kind of life, filled with parties and study dates with friends, maybe even meet a cute guy or two.

yet sadly for you, you experienced none of those things. instead, your university days were filled with stressful deadlines, abhorrent exams, and late nights spent studying while consuming unhealthy amounts of caffeine pills just to get by.

there was an emptiness felt within the depths of your heart, one that you weren't sure what you could even do to fill it. you truly weren't expecting your life to be so bland, and that more than anything else was what put such a damper on your mood.

unable to take the sight of your plain apartment much longer, you dress in your favorite pair of sweatpants and don a hoodie for warmth, deciding that a trip to the café would cheer you up. perhaps you could buy something warm while filling your stomach with all the pastries you can afford?

just thinking about it all was enough to make your stomach begin to growl, prompting you to quicken your pace. however, there was one tiny little detail you forgot, a devastating trait to have while living in a time where cellphones hadn't become quite as advanced as they were today-

you were hopeless when it came to directions, more often than not, you spent your days getting lost in the midst of the city. hell, if it wasn't for the fact that you took the same train every morning to get to your classes, you'd probably never make it to school, either.

when you thought you recalled where the café was located, you ended up being completely wrong. the constant twists and turns you took leads you to so many dead ends. you were now questioning yourself, really wondering if you could find this damn café after all.

as your wandering takes you to yet another dead-end, this time within the depths of a dark alley, fate seemed cruel enough to play a joke on you. before you could leave, there was a strange sound heard coming from behind you. the sound was wet, being reminiscent of a snail or a slug trailing its slime against the wet pavement while in the rain.

but...no snail or slug could be that big, right? the lighting in the alleyway was dim, with the single overhead light constantly blinking on and off. as you strained your eyes to see what that figure was, you tricked your mind into thinking that it was a dripping wet dog, whimpering because it had accidentally fallen into a river or some puddle.

filled with both a curiosity and a desire to help the mutt, you step closer to the hulking figure. "hey buddy, it's going to be okay. are you-"

you trail off, becoming frozen on the spot when the sudden stench hits you, like rotting flesh and decay. instinctively, you cover your mouth with both hands, but the memory of such a powerful stench was enough to make you gag. it was at that exact moment the figure reveals itself, finally coming into the light as you could merely see a blob the color of mud. its eyes and mouth kept sliding off its face, further fueling your anxieties as you were positive witnessing something so horrifying would forever taint your very memories.

you had come into contact with a devil-

and truly, what shitty luck did you have to warrant such a meeting?

completely frozen on the spot, you felt your body take slow steps away from the nightmarish creature. but unfortunately for you, your flight or fight response was delayed. the moment you took back control of your body, ready to run away when the creature reaches out to you, engulfing you within its foul scent as you struggled to breathe.

"devour, need to devour such a sweet morsel." its voice was guttural, sending shivers down your spine as your body slowly sunk inside a beast, like a body sinking in quicksand.

your scream reverberates across the alleyway, with tears dotting your vision as you reached out your hand as far as you could manage, begging for something, anything to come and save you. the thick and toxic mud ends up overtaking your senses, and before you could lose consciousness while ceasing your breaths-

you felt a hand forcefully pull you out from the devil's grip, its disgusting mud staining at your clothes as you felt globs of it sliding down your body. the slick sensation of the disgusting slime surrounding you makes you feel nauseous as you gag almost immediately, unable to get rid of the scent since it had now completely drenched you.

struggling to get to your feet, you pinch your nose shut to see the sight of your savior standing in front of you. immediately, you felt panicked. this guy was just too lanky, and you could only see his bare back as it faced you. unruly strands of blond hair decorate his head, and you were concerned with how his lanky form stood without fear in front of the poisonous devil. despite how the beast roared at him in anger, the strange man retained his almost nonchalant stance-

that is, until he turns back to face you with a wink and a smirk, "wanna watch me do something cool?"

you weren't given the chance to answer him. all you could see was how he pulled at an odd string settled on the middle of his chest before a chainsaw rips his head in half. letting out a blood curdling scream, you swore you felt as though you were going to faint, your heart caught within the confines of your throat when the man finally reveals himself.

gone were his messy blond locks. all that covered his face was a metal mask with a deadly chainsaw sticking out of it. not only had his head turned into a chainsaw, but the entirety of his arms as well, the deadly blades acting as a shield as he shredded the devil into tiny bits and pieces.

you weren't sure how you were supposed to feel. the more rational part of you knew that you had to feel afraid of this man who clearly had a devil half-

but the stronger part felt more intrigue for him than anything else.

in just mere seconds, the chainsaw man comes out victorious, with his dirty converses standing in the puddle left over from the devil's destruction. once he was sure it was over, the chainsaw man steps closer to you. unsure of why you didn't want to move or run away, you end up standing completely still, allowing him to reach out and touch at your cheek gently with the tip of his chainsaw.

"you're lucky you're so damn cute."

that was all he said in that strange voice of his before jumping away from you, disappearing against one of the rooftops as you felt your legs give away, unable to hold your weight any longer.

with your heart pounding within your chest, not with fear but with excitement, you knew that your first meeting ever with the chainsaw man would forever be imprinted within your memories.

2. introduction

ever since that fateful night when you were saved by chainsaw man himself, you became a tad bit obsessed with him. he was just so cool, so powerful and fearless when he had saved your life. that strange half devil hybrid was the spark you needed in your life, and it was thanks to him that you finally felt so alive- hell, it was because of him that you were still alive.

unfortunately, such a cool meeting came with a heavy price, mainly in the form of how the stench of the toxic devil still remained attached to your body regardless of the sheer number of showers you took whilst lathering copious amounts of body wash on your form. during those first few weeks, you had to cover your scent with a variety of perfumes in hopes of masking the stench of decay left over from that night.

despite the number of complaints your peers told you, telling you that your perfume was overwhelming and headache inducing, you knew that it was better to give them a migraine than make them feel nauseous whenever you were around.

but you digress-

roughly two months had passed, and you were still searching for any signs of the chainsaw man. when you asked around your university questions pertaining to who it might be, no one had a clue what you were talking about. and all the books you read within your university's library spoke little of a human/devil hybrid.

with a sigh, you figured that it was completely hopeless to try and find out anything about your savior. you were quickly becoming dejected now, with no signs of the man with the dirty blond hair anywhere in sight.

not wanting to wallow in your despair for too long, you decide to visit the udon stand settled within close proximity of your university. the owner and cook, recognizing you almost immediately, welcomes you with open arms as he let out a hearty laugh whilst saying your name. "the usual for you?"

"absolutely." taking your spot on the stand, you wait eagerly for your favorite bowl of udon. you kick your legs back and forth with your hands clasped against the table.

you paid no attention to the person that suddenly sat next to you, their proximity completely noticeable when you could feel the right side of your arm touching them. with your faced scrunched up in dismay, you were about to move seats had it not been for the fact that your beef udon had already arrived.

"here ya go, miss! and as always, enjoy!"

"wah! that looks amazing! 'scuse me, sir, but i will definitely have what she's having!"

cue a rich chuckle coming from the owner himself. "absolutely, young man. one beef udon comin' right up!"

you couldn't help but feel slighly annoyed at this man's childish behavior, ready to scold him as the words hung heavy against the tip of your tongue-

but upon seeing him for the first time, you felt them die against your throat. with messy locks of blond hair and eyes the color of smooth, hot chocolate. he was dressed in a jacket and a pair of jeans, but those worn converses were undeniable.

he was the chainsaw man; the same man you had dedicated your time trying to find.

the young man appears nervous from being scrutinized with your wide-eyed gaze, letting out a cough before saying, "uhm, long time no see?"

yet all you could manage was a shaky whisper of this single phrase: "chainsaw-"

but that was all you could say when he immediately places a hand over your mouth, looking panicked while darting his eyes around the area, "please, just call me denji."

3. interaction

"denji?" you test the sound of his name against your lips, repeating it a few times as the boy settled next to you slowly begins to turn pink in response.

"i like it." returning your attention back to the steaming bowl of udon, you grab your chopsticks and clasp your hands together, "thank you for this meal!"

you dig into your bowl of noodles, suddenly not minding denji's close proximity when he receives his own bowl of noodles just minutes later. he repeats your actions before slurping up his own noodles.

you ate in a comfortable silence, neither one of you speaking as you each simply enjoyed the bowl of udon. "you know, you're being kind of rude." denji wasn't facing you when he said that strange phrase.

"oh? and what makes me so rude?" you take casual sips of the broth, looking at the blond expectantly as a sheepish expression paints his features.

"well, you didn't tell me your name yet, and that's kinda what i wanted to know."

"hmm." you lick your lips, the sight of your actions not going unnoticed by denji as his eyes suddenly hones in on your lips. thinking that it was only fair that he know your name as well, you tell it to him and listen when he does the same thing you did with his name.

he repeats the syllables that make up your name a few times before grinning widely at you, "i think i like the sound of it."

you cheeks felt heated, and you continue to eat your bowl of udon, but this time, you could barely taste the deliciousness of the broth and how well it tied the noodles and the beef together. instead, your stomach kept twisting each time you felt denji purposely lean into you whilst enjoying his bowl.

within seconds, he finishes his meal entirely, leaving behind an empty bowl. digging into the pocket of his jeans, he places a few bills against the table, paying for your portion of the meal as well before beckoning you to follow him.

"come on, let's take a walk."

it was as though he put a spell on you, for that was all the urging from denji you needed to follow him wherever he went.

4. attraction

denji was by no means the cute and handsome boy of your dreams. he appeared disheveled, as if that were his fashion statement as he walked with a natural slumped posture. he keeps his hands hidden, buried deep within the confines of his jeans while keeping his gaze focused on the pavement in front of him.

"so you gonna ask me 'bout that night or what?"

his blunt words make you wince in response. "do you actually remember me?"

denji takes a look at you from the corner of his eyes. "hell yeah i do. can't ever forget a cute face like yours." he seems smug then, rubbing at the tip of his nose with the back of his hand all while smirking.

"heh, okay smartass." you purposely run your hip against his, making the smug expression falter as you continued to walk closely beside him.

"how long have you had such powers?"

"uh, since i was seventeen?"

"and how old are you now?"

"twenty."

you giggle, facing him with a smile on your face. "cool, so the chainsaw man is my age."

you continue to walk in silence, and from your periphery, you could see the way denji was turning red with a blush. even the tip of his ears was pink now, and it was truly such an adorable sight.

"so do you go around saving people from devils like a vigilante or something?"

"heh, nope! i only go around saving cute girls like yourself." he gives you another toothy grin, showing you its sharpness while running a hand through his unruly locks of hair. "the goal of it is to have the girl become so in love with me that she takes me back to her place, where she can show her thanks for me by spreading her legs as i lose myself in her."

you could feel your cheeks burn with the audacity of his wishes, trying to hold back your laughter as a snort ends up escaping from your lips. "and how's that working out for you?"

"ugh, terribly. here i am, in my twenties, and i'm still not getting any."

now, you couldn't hold back your laughter any longer as ugly snorts and giggles came out of you. denji was so refreshing to you, with his honesty and bluntness that delighted you in so many ways. you kept on laughing, with your stomach twisting in pain as denji simply stood there, watching you with an unreadable expression on his face.

you didn't know how long you just stood there, laughing like an idiot while in front of denji. finally calming down, you wipe the stray tears from your eyes and give him an apologetic smile. "sorry about that, denji. you're just so funny, so honest with your desires that i couldn't help but laugh at what a total guy you are."

but instead of joining you in your laughter, denji gently reaches out to you, allowing the back of his hand to brush against your cheek when he tells you in a breathless whisper,

"you're so fucking adorable. please, go on a date with me."

5. date

denji is so not your type.

he's definitely not your dream come true.

and to top it all off, he seems so shameless-

so what the hell prompted you to accept his invitation to a date saturday night?

was it due to the fact that he was the chainsaw man you had been searching for? was your intrigue with him due to the fact that he had literally saved your life?

you couldn't say for sure why denji fascinated you, but all you knew was that you were eager to get to know him better. something about him just drew you into him, and more than anything else, denji seemed to be drowning in his own loneliness.

something must have happened in his past, but you didn't dare bring up anything so personal when you've only met him a handful of times.

but you were willing to stick around and try.

with you dressed comfortably for your date with denji, you stand outside of your train station, waiting for him to appear. your eyes kept looking around for any signs of him, and the moment you had your gaze off of the streets was when you felt someone press themselves against your back.

you stiffen, about to scream had it not been for the teasing whisper of your name against your ear, "hey cutie, were you waiting for me?"

"d-denji!" he lets go of you then with a teasing smile on his face. dressed in a shirt and another pair of jeans along with his converses (his signature style, you suppose), he holds up his hands in mock surrender. "my bad my bad, didn't mean to scare ya. let's just get going, okay?"

placing a hand behind your back, he leads you inside the station, finally starting your date you had been anticipating.

6. holding hands

your date with denji ends up being the most fun you've had. he takes you to one of his favorite arcades located in the city, where you spent hours beating each other with the various games. whilst in the arcade, you shared an extra-large pepperoni pizza, laughing at all the funny faces he made and terrible jokes he tells you.

when you had your fill of the arcade, denji takes a hold of all the tickets you had won in combination with his, going up to the gift counter to exchange the tickets for a cute little teddy bear. he shows you the adorable plush, holding on to what looked like a sunflower within its brown paws. your smile couldn't be any wider, accepting the cute plush while giving it several kisses.

meanwhile, denji kept looking at you embracing the teddy bear tightly against your chest. he tries to convince himself that no, he was not getting jealous of some stupid teddy bear-

but ends up failing miserably.

"come on, it looks really nice out tonight. let's go out and admire the stars or something."

taking a hold of one of your hands, he interlocks them together with his fingertips. unconsciously, denji ends up shivering at the contact, swearing that he's never felt a hand so soft before while taking you away from the arcade.

7. first kiss

the teddy bear that denji had gotten for you was still settled safely on your lap as you sat with denji on the water fountain. the gentle gurgle of water was all that was heard as denji kept his gaze at the stars scattered above him.

you were feeling awkward now, pulling at your teddy bear's ears as you tried to find the right words to say to him. with your legs drawn up close to your chest, you sigh and decided that it was best to be honest with him.

"denji?"

"yeah?"

"i ah...i really had a great time with our date. it's been so long since i've been to an arcade, and i loved it."

"hm, that's good."

you shift uncomfortably beside him. "why are you acting like i'm such a nuisance now? didn't you have a good time as well?"

"you bet your cute ass i did."

you ignore his use of profanity at that moment, feeling your frustrations about to reach a boiling point. "then why aren't you acting like you're having a good time?!"

"because i'm consumed with thoughts of wanting to kiss you. but i don't wanna scare you off on our first date."

finally hearing his confession, you look at him to see him glaring at the sky, refusing to meet your gaze. his rough admission causes a surge of warmth to course through your veins, and you could feel yourself swallowing thickly as you tried to find the right words to say.

should i...? or should i not...?

with a sigh, you purposely slide closer to him, allowing your shoulders to meet with his as you rest your head against him. "then why don't you?"

your words causes denji to do a double take, whipping his head around so quickly that you were afraid he was going to break his neck. "w-what?"

"you heard me. i said why don't you kiss me already."

you figured denji would be filled with hot air now, puffing up his chest as he kissed you with confidence-

yet instead, you watch as denji becomes even redder in response. he hides his mouth from your curious gaze with his hand, eyes looking at anything but you.

"denji...?"

"j-just give me a damn minute, okay?! i-i never had a girl i wanted to kiss so badly actually let me kiss her before...!"

ah, so this boy was all bark and no bite after all.

with a smile on your face, you gently place a hand on his chin, forcing him to face you. his eyes appeared so hopeful, so needy for even an ounce of your affections. letting out a sigh of his name, you allow your lips to perfectly slant against his, giving him a kiss denji was sure to cherish for the rest of his life.

8. relationship

you couldn't quite put a label on whatever was going on between you and denji.

all you knew was that he made you happy. his presence measured up to that of the sun itself. despite his gruff language and perverted nature he tries to display, you found that he was so warm and kind. there were different aspects to denji's personality, and little by little, you were certain that you were slowly breaking down his walls.

tonight, denji had suddenly appeared at your apartment during the middle of the night. he looked half-asleep, with the way the dark circles seemed to darken beneath his eyes as his arms hung limply by his sides.

yet the moment he sees you, denji perks up immediately, taking you in his arms as he makes his way to your bedroom. when he lays down, settling you on top of him with your cheek pressed against his chest, you could feel the gentle beatings of his heart.

you felt so soft then, your affections for the man you had quickly grown so attached to-

but did he feel the same way?

you sigh, burying your face within his chest, tracing at the chainsaw cord that served as his means of turning into chainsaw man. denji immediately stops your hands from exploring any further, "no, don't. i don't want you to get hurt."

"what am i to you?" you whisper to him, feeling your insecurities take over as you played with the front of his shirt.

"hah?"

"have you been saving any other cute girls lately?" was the question you end up asking, refusing to meet his confused gaze as you kept the fabric of his shirt clutched tightly in your hand.

denji then takes a hold of your hands, freeing his shirt from their tight grip. you half expected him to leave you right then and there, feeling the tears begin to dot your vision as you fought to keep your breathing even.

you refused to cry, even when denji decides to leave you.

yet he blows all of your expectations out of the water when he clasps your hands together to press a kiss against the back of them. "nah, you're the only cute girl i wanna save."

taking your silence as proof that you had finally calmed down, he adjusts his hold on you so that you now lay within his arms, with his chest pressed against your back. you felt the way his body heat seemed to engulf you, trapping you in a safe cocoon as you smile in response.

"what am i to you?" you ask once more, this time with your voice ringing loud and clear from the confines of your room.

"isn't it obvious?" you feel the way denji lets out an exasperated breath against your hair. "you're my girlfriend, and i couldn't ask for anyone better than you."

9. love

life truly had a sense of humor.

never would you have ever expected to fall in love with someone like denji. when you first met him, he seemed so far away from what you considered your ideal type-

the one that was prim and proper, with an education that matches yours plus having great ambitions.

well, you suppose you could take back that last bit, since denji has shown you that he has plenty of ambition, even if they were a bit misplaced before he met you.

"i used to want to take over the world with my powers, you know? make all of japan bend to my will and get all the women and riches i desired."

he tells you of his dreams one night when you were both cuddling on the couch, watching some boring sitcom that you didn't bother to try and recall the title of. all of your focus was on denji and the way he softly smiled down at you.

"but now, that shit doesn't matter anymore. now that i got you in my arms, i feel as though every single one of my dreams have come true."

with a kiss filled with passion that you didn't even think denji was capable of, he holds you tightly within his arms while conveying all the emotions he held for you. the kiss was successful in taking your very breath away, eyes turning almost hazy with the sheer amount of love you had for the man that held you.

letting out a hoarse whisper of your name, denji rests his forehead against yours before confessing, "i fucking love you. you're everything a sad and pathetic man like me could ever ask for.

that's why, i'm gonna spend the rest of my fucking life protecting you and makin' you happy."

10. commitment

there was no way denji could sleep peacefully, not when he could spend the next hours watching you rest instead.

with a yawn, he carefully sits up from bed, allowing the blankets to slide off his body as he takes this chance to truly admire you. was his behavior a little strange? maybe, but truly, he didn't give a damn.

he finally found what he has always desired; the one thing he has craved for his entire life:

an unconditional love that he knew he would fight and die for. what started as him wanting to save a total babe from distress ends up leading him down the path he has always wanted- a dream come true.

with his right hand, he presses down against his chest where his heart still beat. he was comforted by the fact pochita would always be a part of him, protecting his heart while feeling each ounce of happiness whenever he was by your side.

"we finally did it, pochita. i finally reached my dreams."

when he finally decides to fall back asleep, he ends up bringing your body closer to him. with you now pressed against his bare chest, he could feel you smile in your sleep as you curled yourself even closer to him.

perhaps he should surprise you with that little, black velvet box currently hiding within his drawer in the morning after all.

a.n. - i have been listening to ajr's -ok overture- on repeat for days now, and the entirety of the song fits denji so well that i had to make this story for him 🥹 this is unedited, but i had such a blast writing it, and i hope you readers enjoyed it, too ♡

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

[darlingshane]

Violent Desires

Pairing: Frank Castle x F!Reader

Summary: Frank doesn't like being called 'daddy' but you do it anyway to rile him up and have him punish you.

Content/Warnings: 18+, Explicit, Smut, Rough Sex, Vaginal Sex, Dom/Sub Undertones, Overstimulation, Spanking, Light bondage, Mild Daddy Kink, Brat!Reader, Mention of Alcohol, Mention of canon-typical violence.

Word Count: 3k

A/N: This is loosely inspired by some events at the beginning of The Punisher’s season 2.

— You can read below or at AO3.

Spending the summer in a grimy motel with no AC in bumfuck nowhere with an asshole you met only a few weeks ago isn't exactly a dream vacation. But trouble always has led you to the strangest of places. And considering that you might be dead if you hadn't met Frank Castle that night, you can't really complain about your current status. You got yourself here, and you should be thankful for still having all your limbs and head attached to your body.

Still, it doesn’t make it easy to show gratitude to a prickling jerk with a fucking savior complex, when all he does is boss you and hustle you around however he desires.

You can’t help but wonder what’s in this for him. At first, you believed he just wanted a piece of ass, like every other bastard you’ve met, but no, Frank is not about that. At least he hasn’t shown any interest in you in that way.

This isn’t about money for him, either. You’ve offered, and he’s declined any of your offers.

Perhaps, it’s all about doing the right thing – being a hero, whatever that means. But you’re not a saint, or a damsel in distress, and he knows that. Messing with the wrong people by holding onto something that Greenway wanted, and never got, thanks to your unyielding knight in shining armor, is what got you into this mess in the first place.

Eventually, you figure out why and realize that this arrangement has nothing to do with you or being noble in the slightless.

It’s about the fight.

He lives for it. Welcomes it. Seeks it. Needs it like oxygen.

Violence fuels him to keep going. It courses through his veins, thicker than his own blood.

Every day, it becomes more obvious you’re merely a means to an end in the hands of The punisher. You figured who he was too when you found an old newspaper piece with his face taped on the back of an old van’s window, when you stopped for gas once.

Frank or Pete. Neither name means anything to you.

His life is a tragedy, there's no denying that. But that doesn't give him a pass to be that inconsiderate towards you.

You’re a stranger to him. He doesn’t owe you shit, and vice versa. But when he saw you in trouble, unlike the rest of the world, he didn't hesitate for a second to risk his own life by getting between you and the men that were chasing after you.

After getting out of that roadhouse, he drove you from town to town for the most part of the last month, killing any dumbass that dared to track you down, until they stopped following you.

Living closely together with him is no picnic. He watches you like a hawk, always alert, and acts as more of a captor rather than a protector sometimes.

At this point, you're not sure what comes next. Is he going to be your keeper forever? Cause you’re getting tired of this situation and you just wanna go back to your life, or whatever is left. The truth is, Greenway killed everyone you knew, so you don’t have much to return to. Maybe sticking by Frank’s side is the best option for you right now.

Warranted or not, this isn’t over yet. He took down some of Greenway’s most dangerous men, and more are on the way. You’re both sure that the big boss is still looking for the woman, you, who has the key to bring him down. It consists of a pesky pen drive that if were to fall into the right hands, it'd mean the end to his crime ring. That's the only insurance that’s keeping you from pushing daisies in an unmarked grave somewhere.

That and Frank.

It’s been a couple of weeks since you were last tracked to that motel in Wyoming. The mileage of Frank’s van has collected thousands of miles since, and tonight you’re up for an adventure. So, you sneak out past your guard the first chance you get to explore the new town. Temperatures are painfully hot, and you just take shelter in a bar with a good air conditioner. You play pool, have a drink or two, and dance with newfound friends for a couple of hours past Frank’s dinner time.

“Where the hell were you?” his voice grumbles, one hand reaching to pull the beaded string from the old-as-fuck lamp on the night table between the twin beds when you step into the room.

It’s past midnight, you said earlier you were going to get some snacks from the bending machine and that’s when you decided to go on a walk around town instead. Because you’re not a goddamn child, or a helpless girl who can’t keep herself safe. He acts like you're both. You’re neither.

You simply shrug indifferently at his question, toeing off your slip-on shoes by the foot of the bed.

“You got anything to say, huh?” he mutters, rising from his bed to tower over you.

“I'm sorry, daddy,” you turn your back to him, and start shedding clothes off.

“The fuck did you just say?” he snarls oh so gravely. Tone laced in anger. You can feel the rough texture of his voice on the surface of your back when you pull your shirt over your head.

“Said I was sorry, daddy,” you pout, slipping out of your pants and kneeling on your bed, stripped to your underwear.

“Are you drunk?”

“Just a lil buzzed, daddy.”

“Stop calling me that. For fuck's sake! What the hell is wrong with you today?”

“Isn't that what you are, though? You act like it. You sound like it. Always telling me what to do, what to eat, where to go… If you don't want me to call you that, then stop trying to control me.”

“You'd be dead in a ditch somewhere if I hadn’t done all that. Hate me all you want, sweetheart, but you and I both know that’s true.”

“So you keep saying, Oh Almighty Savior, but I was doing fine until I met you,” you stick out your pointer finger and poke his chest twice with malice.

“I doubt that,” he shoves your hand away. “And we still gotta find what kind of shit you bring to our door after your impromptu outing tonight.”

“Relax, if the punisher couldn't track me down, neither could they.”

“You better be right. Christ! You’re such a goddamn brat. You say you wanna stop running, but you’re being utterly careless,” he starts pacing the short length of the room, peeking out the window here and there.

“Why are you always so angry?” your lips turn into a half grin, as you shift on the bed, getting on all fours, showing your ass in his direction as he walks past your bed. “You wanna come take it out on me, daddy? I’m sure it’ll make you feel better.”

“So help me, God! Call me that one more time…” stopping in his tracks just for a beat, his teeth grit together, as the muscles of his jaw get all worked up.

“And what? What are you gonna do, daddy? Tape my mouth and handcuff me to the radiator again? You wanna know what I did tonight? C’mere and make me tell you.”

You’re not sure what’s gotten into you tonight, you’re not even that drunk. But you find it quite entertaining to rile him up like that.

For a moment, he stares at you like he wanted to rip you apart, like all those men you’ve seen perish in The Punisher’s wake.

You want him too.

You need him too.

Frank just stares and swallows anxiously, unable to decide what to do with you and your erratic behavior.

“Stop being a pussy and show me what the big bad punisher can do,” you keep provoking him, wiggling your ass in the air. “I know you’ve been sitting there all night, just itching like crazy to beat the hell out of someone. Or fuck someone’s brains out. I guess it’s just the same feeling.”

“Keep running your fucking mouth like that. See how far that gets you.”

You press your teeth on your bottom lip, glance at him over your shoulder before spelling the magic word, “do you wanna use my mouth, daddy?”

There's no doubt you're in big trouble when he abandons his pacing, and closes the window’s blinds in one harsh motion before standing behind you with such an imposing dark shadow it makes the hairs on your skin rise.

Silence takes over for three seconds and without a warning, that silence is broken by the sound of your panties being torn apart effortlessly with his fingers. It makes you ache in a whole different way when you look over your shoulder again to see his nose flaring and his eyes falling into the depths of lust as his fist clutches to your now-ruined underwear.

“Don't fucking look at me like that,” he mutters, lip curling into a snarl. And before you can say anything, he reaches with his free hand to hold your jaw while he shoves the shredded panties into your mouth. “You call me Frank or Sir, but I don't wanna hear you say that word again. Got that? Nod if you understand.”

The brat in you wants to say – yes, daddy – but you do as you're told. Dip your chin, and keep your head low.

His large warm palms roam the sides of your hips now. Gripping firmly to your skin as if he wanted to dig his fingertips past the delicate surface of your body to get his hands covered in your blood, and taste it; drown himself in it. That’s exactly how it feels.

It’s nothing but desperate. All this time without a companion has turned it into something he never was, at least not in bed. A bloodlust creature he’d sworn once he would never become. But you’re a different kind of breed, one that can take him places he’s never dared to visit, he recognizes. And right now all he wants to do is satisfy the monster sharpening its teeth under his skin, and feed him with your desire.

With one hand anchored to your hip, he sends the other to undo his belt. You hear the familiar unbuckling sound and the rustling of the fabric as he slides the fine leather off the jeans’ loops.

For a second, you think he’s going to strike you with it, but no. He instead slides the leather around your neck.

“Stay still,” it falls under a heavy breath between his lips.

A pitched sound echoes in your throat as he buckles it tight around your neck. It doesn't have a notch to hold on to up that high, so Frank curls the end around his fist to keep the leather snug around your neck.

“What? Isn’t this what you wanted, little brat?” he tugs on it a little.

The pace of your heart picks up, but you nod again in your makeshift leash. You trust him, nonetheless. He wouldn’t have gotten you this far if he was going to kill you.

“Use your words.”

“Yes, Sir,” you mumble around the fabric of your underwear.

Then, you feel the deft fingers of his opposite hand, gliding from your ass and up your back to unclasp your bra. He lets you slip one arm at a time or off the straps as he presses his bulge against your ass. It stirs at burning arousal in your core. Your walls soften and flutter deliciously in anticipation.

Enjoying himself, he presses his hips a little harder, making sure you can feel the hard outline of his cock swelling behind the denim fabric. It's substantially bigger than you thought. It's daunting and exciting to think about him defiling your pussy with it.

“Let's see what you're made of,” he tentatively moves one hand between your legs, shoving his twitchy finger in your folds to collect your slickness. “Christ, you're so fucking wet.”

In his power play, as he rubs circles around your clit, every time your face dips lower, he pulls the belt to keep your head straight up, facing the ugly headboard of the uncomfortable bed. You can only imagine what people do in places like this, and how many dirty secrets this bed and these four walls have seen. They're about to witness another when Frank releases the end of the belt, letting the leather lose its constriction around your neck.

You let out a shaky breath through your nose as he takes his other hand away from your sex. A second after, both his palms land on your chest and feast on your tits. He fills his eager hands, squeezing as hard as they did on your ass to mark his digits on them. Claiming them as if they existed only for his enjoyment.

Working himself up, he lets out a grunt, and pinches your nipples with vehemence just to hear you squeal again.

“Sh, sh, sh,” he soothes his palms softer on your puckered peaks and frees them at once to finally undo his fly and release his erection.

Frank glances down, spits on his palm, and spreads his saliva around the blunt tip of his cock before guiding himself into your pussy. You're already drenched, but your entrance welcomes the extra lubrication as he slowly sheathes himself inside you.

Your eyes flutter shut, feeling the breadth of his swelling stretching your opening in that first stroke.

“God, you’re so tight,” Frank's lips part as a shy, beautiful moan slides past his teeth at the fine pressure of your slicked walls. He pulls himself out fully, and repeats that motion again to capture how your entrance grips around his length when he breaches you.

Abandoning himself to the depths of your walls, his thrusts are nothing but experimental for a few strokes before unleashing the violent desires of his inner monster to let his hips slam against your ass at full force.

Claiming every inch of you, he keeps your body in submission with his hands clutching the curves of your ass, and you gladly surrender to his whims. His fingers sink in new places, stamping their prints and half moons when his nails press harder on your skin.

The room oozes of sweat and sex and the lewd sounds that come from his body colliding against yours over and over, and the creaking of the bed.

Yours fists ball the flowery bedspread for a long time before sending one of your hands between your legs to care for your clit.

“Did I say that you could touch yourself?” he spanks your ass twice to put a stop to your hand.

“Please… I need it,” you articulate with difficulty.

“Stop whining, and fucking take it,” his palm smacks your rear once more, harder.

Ignoring your pleading, the punishing rhythm of his cock, crawling up to the hilt, becomes more desperate as it brings you closer to ecstasy; thrust after thrust. Your body shudders in delight, and every time you cry out his name, curl your hips against his moves, or beg, you're gifted with a new smack.

As you reach the tipping point, his force turns sharper, meaner. It's at that moment that all your muscles seize up, and everything becomes blurry before letting the orgasm take over your body. You groan and pull yourself away from Frank's reach to lay face down on the mattress.

You might have had enough, but he's not satisfied yet and before the orgasm ebbs he grabs the curves of your ass, pulling them up to their former position, while you keep your head and shoulders pressed to the bed. He keeps you like that with one hand and uses the other to shove his cock back inside, capturing the relentless flutters and contractions of your walls from your orgasm.

“Did I tell you to come?” he breathes fire, using a harsh palm to chastise you once more.

Still up in your high, you can only hum in response.

“Answer me!” he demands, extending his fingers to your lips to pull the fabric out of your mouth.

“I… I’m sorry, Sir.”

The overstimulation barely lets you word that out, as he grows overjoyed, watching you struggle between battling your orgasm and the new strange entity that overcomes your body. It’s a different kind of beast, fueled by a great amount of stamina, that doesn’t waver when it comes to picking up the same wild rhythm as before. He sweats it out, works it out, growls it out like a fucking animal until all his seed is poured into your tenderness and the lust-hungry monster is finally sated.

As that creature goes back to its cave, Frank goes limp on your side.

You stretch your legs and lay on your stomach, as he rests on his back. He notices just now how his clothes are still on and how annoying they become as they cling to the layer of sweat trying to cool down his body.

Glancing to the side, you see his chest rising and falling at a fast rate, as your heart starts to settle.

“That was…” he starts, and you can see a glimpse of a tiny smile taking over one corner of his mouth.

“Yeah,” you let out a sigh, sliding the leather that was still partially hanging around your neck, letting it fall to the floor.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No, Frank. You didn’t.”

“I know you said that I could. But for a moment I thought– I don’t know what came over me… I never wanted to… didn’t mean to…”

“Frank,” you put a palm on his chest to stop that complicated thought. “We had sex. It was great. Don’t overthink it. I’d have hit you at any point if I felt threatened or unsafe. Trust me.”

“Bet you would’ve.”

Your lips curve up, observing his body completely relaxed for the first time in weeks.

[gerandor]

I am once again thinking about the absolutely complicated and devastating beauty that is lacho.

About how lalo never was a direct reason for nacho's suffering, but he was indirectly (and still, so acutely) why nacho was suffering.

About lalo's bad timing (why couldn't he have shown up sooner or never at all?). About his love for hector who nacho hated the most and who caused nacho's suffering in the first place.

About lalo having the time of his life around nacho while nacho was barely holding it all together.

About lalo being perfectly alright with his insomnia while nacho craved for some ever elusive shut-eye (he wasn't thinking about death when he said that, was he?)

About the fact that nacho died while thinking lalo was dead and lalo died while thinking nacho was alive. I wonder, when nacho was saying 'he was a soulless pig and I wish i'd killed him with my own hands' was he really talking about lalo or fring? After all, if that was what he truly wished, he could've done it on so many occasions.

Was nacho holding so much hate for lalo or was lalo just a manifestation of everything that was wrong with nacho's life? The cartel, the game, his father's disappointment, the fucking salamancas. And of course fring.

And i'm thinking about how nacho's actions, and even his 'betrayal', was motivated by his selfless desire to protect his father. And how every one of lalo's actions and decisions was motivated by self-interest.

I am thinking about how much nacho suffered physically, even right before his death. So that he could have a clean, beautiful death symbolized by rain and a desert flower. And how lalo's death was so messy and he got buried so carelessly with the body of a man he killed without a single thought.

I'm thinking about nacho so beautifully sinking under lalo's skin and yet suffering for every second of it. And lalo, enjoying every second of it, until he realized that beauty had been nothing but smoke and mirrors.

I'm thinking about lalo's obsession with fire. And how Ignacio means the fiery one. And how nacho's fire was the only one lalo couldn't control. How his fire burned the physical and metaphorical walls around lalo. And if lalo enjoyed getting burned by that fire. When he realized what nacho had done and he turned his head to look at the fire pit the two were sitting around just a few minutes ago, what was he thinking?

He didn't go after nacho. He let him go. Did nacho mean so little to him that his betrayal didn't warrant revenge? Or did he mean so much to him that he couldn't bring himself to hurt him? Or was he just resigned? After all, Igancio's fire was one he couldn't control and what else could he have been expecting but to get burned by it at the end of it all?

[mbakuetshurisprincess]

Love for Duty’s Sake Part 4

AN: Hello loves! With this part L4DS officially becomes my longest series which is kinda a cool little milestone to hit. I’ve come to fix the mess I made on Valentine's day LMAO (kinda). Also for absolutely no reason I did mention Okoye having a wife in this, that's just my personal hc IDK. This part is very Shuri-focused but its intentionally like that, next part will be more Y/N focused. As always, this series is dedicated to my baby @pinkwright. 

Summary: As the only daughter of Genelia, there were things you just had to do, and marrying the Queen of Wakanda was one of those things.

Pairing: Shuri x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Cussing, guns, mentions of death and grieving, that’s it I think.

Word count: 4,171

Part 1.  Part 2.  Part 3.  Masterlist.  Taglist.

Suggested listening: So My Darling (Acoustic) - Rachel Chinouriri 

“So my darling, so my darling, so my darling When our hairs are turning grey Won't even remember our younger days, so So my darling, so my darling Baby, my boo You are my best friend, you are my best friend Remember I'll always love you”

“My Queen, please we need you to at least sit-down.” The hand belonging to the voice that was pestering her came to rest on her shoulder, snapping Shuri out of her internal world.

“Sit down?” Shuri whipped around to face the medical attendant behind her. “How am I supposed to sit when my WIFE could be lying dead on the table right now? Tell me how!” She demanded.

“Assuming the worst and pacing outside of the operating room will not do anything but raise your blood pressure my queen, please.” The medical attendant urged Shuri again, taking Shuri’s hand in hers and attempting to guide her to a seat outside of the operating room. “We have the best doctors working on her majesty, now is the time for you to rest.”

That got Shuri’s blood boiling and she ripped her hand out of the woman's grasp. “The best doctor in Wakanda is right here! Yet you all have barred me, the queen, from entering the operating room and ensuring umfazi wam (my wife’s) safety!”

“You are too close to her my Queen-” The attendant explained but Shuri quickly cut her off.

“Was I not too close to my brother when I tried to save his life? Would you have stopped me from intervening and saving my mother's life because I was too close to her?” Shuri questioned taking a step forward into the woman's space.

“Of course not but you must understand-”

Before Shuri could cut the intendant off again, Aneka’s voice cut through, “My Queen, Okoye, and Ayo have news.” Only then did Shuri pull her piercing brown eyes off of the woman and over to the Dora.

“Is this news that seriously warrants me leaving Y/N’s side?” Aneka felt the seriousness of Shuri’s question, the queen was unwilling to leave your side unless it was truly worth it.

The simple “Yes.” however was a definitive enough answer to have Shuri agree to leave the hospital wing and venture down to her lab. Not before instructing the attendant to call her if anything went wrong or if surgery finished before she got back.

Entering the lab Shuri was greeted by all eyes on her. She could feel them scanning her body, all creating their own assumptions about her; which would no doubt fuel the palace gossip about what exactly had happened on this routine business trip.

To be fair though, Shuri was doing nothing to help quell the gossip herself. In her haste to get you into the operating room and refusal to leave your side, she hadn’t gotten the chance to change out of her bloodstained clothing. Now she walked up to Okoye’s awaiting hologram, body tight with nerves clad in a button-up covered in your blood.

“What is it Okoye?” Shuri demanded sternly, crossing her arms and taking a deep breath in.

Okoye faltered for half of a second, eyes taking in Shuri’s being and easily seeing through the collected facade the royal was trying to put on. The way crossing her arms over her chest Shuri was subconsciously protecting her most vulnerable parts and trying to ground herself. How she never really exhaled the deep breath she had just taken, rather letting it come out of her nostrils in a strained sense, as if even breathing was a task.

Ayo who stood next to Okoye didn’t notice the intricacies in Shuri’s demeanor or Okoye’s pause, and neither did Aneka who was behind the queen. But Shuri noticed, subconsciously straightening the way she stood.

“Ngangamsha, (your majesty,) we have in custody the man who tried to take Y/N’s life.” The sentence was brief but Okoye knew her next movements would explain it all. Stepping to the side she revealed a man sitting in a rolling chair, gagged.

To say sitting however would be the wrong word to describe the predicament your attacker found himself in. He was bound down to the chair with rope at every point the brain could think of. Wrists, forearms, elbows, shoulders, chest, thighs, knees, calves, hell even the man's feet had been tied down. This was no doubt the work of Ayo, Shuri could recognize the master rope work the older soldier had been teaching her over the years.

Shuris eyes took this time to really take in your attacker's features. He didn’t look like a killer. Someone like Klaue or Killmonger, those were killers and they looked like it too. People who would have had no problem orchestrating a dangerous move like this. No this man was different, he looked like someone Shuri could pass on the street in America and not think twice about. He looked utterly forgettable.

“His name is Liam Drockers, born and lives here in DC, occupation sales and data analyst for several companies and businesses, the ice cream shop included.” Okoye's introduction did nothing but cause more confusion. Who the hell was this guy? “I am requesting permission to begin a thorough questioning of the subject.”

“No.” Shuri’s answer was clear and confident, following not a breath after Okoye finished speaking. “He will be escorted to Wakanda and questioning will be run by me.”

“My queen,” It was now Aneka’s time to speak, her knowledge of international law coming in handy. “He cannot be removed from American soil unless we have an admission of guilt, he is an American citizen and thus retains their rights.”

The muscles in Shuri’s neck tensed as she took a breath, “Do we all agree that this is the man who carelessly tried to take my wife's life?” She spoke as if he wasn’t there.

A “Yes,” came from the three Dora’s present.

“Then what more would an admission of guilt do? He is guilty. He will be brought back to Wakanda, questioned, and tried by the highest court for his crime.” Shuri spoke the words with utter disgust as she looked at the man.

“Your majesty-” Ayo tried this time, hoping maybe a different voice would dissuade Shuri from her current plan of action.

“Konele. (Enough.) Liam Drockers will be brought to Wakanda under direct orders of the Queen. Uyaqonda? (Do you understand me?)”

Just as before, the three women responded “Yes,” in unison.

“Good. One final thing, ensure no media outlets find out about this. Wakandan or otherwise I do not want this news broken until Y/N decides to. She deserves her privacy”

For the first time that day, the three women agreed with her. Knowing that the last thing the two of you needed was to be hounded online by news outlets trying to get a scoop.

“Thank you, you all are dismissed.” At Shuri’s word Aneka and Ayo, both left their respective rooms. Ayo wheeling Liam out of the room, presumably to prepare him for departure. And Aneka going to return to guard your operating room, leaving Shuri and Okoye standing in front of their holographic screens.

“Ikumkani wam, (My queen)” Okoye tried switching to their mother tongue hoping it would reach Shuri.“I do not know what you are thinking right now but I am telling you that you need to slow down.”

“Okoye, do not do that.”

Still, the older woman continued, “You are under unimaginable stress Shuri, you need to take a step back and assess the situation impartially.”

“Impartially? You expect me to look at this situation impartially Okoye, seriously?” A rubber band inside of Shuri that had been winding itself up finally snapped. “How am I supposed to be impartial when MY wife is lying on the operating table fighting for her life? Do not lie to me and say that you wouldn’t do everything in your power to protect the ones you love. I am doing the same thing.”

Okoye ate Shuri’s words along with the anger underlying all of her sentences. What she said was true, Okoye knew if she found herself in this position she would stop at nothing to bring her wife’s assailant to justice. But Okoye was not Shuri, and she knew that.

The ramifications of Okoye’s action, if she were placed in the same situation, would have nowhere near the blowback as the queen’s. This was the fact that Okoye understood that Shuri just couldn’t seem to grasp. But the general was aware any attempts to explain this to Shuri right now would be futile. she was too fragile, too caught up in her own emotions.

“Sisi, (Sister,)” Okoye’s tone softened. She was not coming to Shuri as a general would come to her queen, instead, she chose to appeal to their personal connection hoping that she would at least hear what Okoye was saying. “Your mind will run much clearer after a shower and a quick nap. You have been through something traumatic, and you need to take a step back. ”

Okoye paused debating if continuing on was a good idea, ultimately after really looking at Shuri once again she decided to keep going. “She will need you when she wakes up, all of you, not just the parts you’re willing to show.”

Shuri tried to speak, her mouth opened and her lips moved as if to form words. She so badly wanted to tell Okoye just how scared she was at that moment. How it wasn’t fair how fast everything happened. How you two were just beginning to warm up to each other after all this time. How when you were wheeled into the medical wing she squeezed your hand so hard as she yelled out instructions, she was worried it might have been bruised.

All of these things ran through Shuri’s head as possible things she could say to Okoye at that moment. And she was sure the older woman would listen dutifully as she spoke and offer nothing if not the most rational responses.

But Shuri couldn’t bear to hear that right now, she had other things more important than her feelings to worry about in her eyes. So to waste time that she could be using to try and save your life, discussing her own feelings would be the ultimate careless act.

“Thank you, Okoye, that will be all.” Before Okoye could respond Shuri ended the call.

Now without Okoye’s holograph in front of her, the way her reflection looked back at her sent shivers down her spine. Your blood still caked into her clothing, curls falling every which way, she felt and looked like some strange amalgamation of her own physical form. Maybe Okoye was right.

Quickly she called Aneka who assured her that you were still in surgery and were not predicted to be finished for at least another hour and a half. A nap was one hundred percent out of the question, she couldn’t sleep until she knew for sure that you were okay and that your attacker had at minimum stepped foot on Wakandan soil. But a shower and a quick change of clothes could be arranged.

Standing in the shower she let the water run over her head and fall all down her back. As she stared down at her feet letting her mind go numb the color of the water changed. The once clear water that ran down the drain now held a reddish tint, it took her a moment to realize what exactly caused it.

It was your blood that had dried into her hands from when she applied pressure to your chest. Her mind suddenly switched on and to you. What would you wear or wake up to? The hospital garments that were provided were definitely nothing to scoff at but Shuri had picked up on how particular you were about your clothing and the fabrics you wore. She made a mental note to grab something out of your drawers so you could feel more comfortable as you recovered.

Your wife spent the rest of her time in the shower mulling over the possibilities of what your attacker's motives could have been.

While picking out an outfit she mentally compiled a list of every major disagreement with the United States she had been involved in since taking over.  

And by the time she was finished readying herself to be back at your side, truly she felt as if she hadn’t developed concrete enough theories to deduce what would cause a lowly date and sales analyst to attempt to take the life of a foreign head of state.

She’d gotten herself nowhere in all that thinking, and more importantly, she’d gotten you nowhere. When you awoke, Shuri wouldn’t be able to tell you that she’d fixed the whole situation and that you had nothing to worry about other than getting better. No, she’d have to tell you the truth. That yes, they’d gotten your attacker and he was in custody; but they were no further along than that.

She was failing you.

Shaking Shuri from her mind's inner turmoil she remembered to grab your clothes before heading back down to the operating room. Across from your bed stood the dark oak dresser your family had gifted you and Shuri as an engagement gift. She dug into the drawer just as she had seen you do a million times looking for a t-shirt for you to wear. After moving a few to the side, she was met with something hard yet pliable. Confused, the queen pulled it and her hand out of the drawer to inspect.

“A journal?” Shuri questioned out loud. There was no mistaking that's what she held in her hand at that exact moment, the whole thing was wrapped in a leather case with your monogram on the front. Something else got her attention though, sticking out of the bottom was a small receipt. She recognized the name of the restaurant Mafemi’s, a place you two used to frequent in the early days of your courtship.

“But that was so long ago,” Shuri thought to herself. “What were you still doing with a receipt from then?”

As much as she knew she shouldn't, Shuri opened your journal, promising that she would only read the page that the receipt had come from.

Date: May 15, 2022 Today Shuri and I went out to lunch at Mafemi’s. Mama says it's good for us to get out and be seen together. It’ll “help take the spotlight off of the reckless decisions I made during my single life.” Whatever the fuck that’s supposed to mean. But lunch, I don’t know. I just feel like Shuri doesn't feel the same way I do about her. Like when we go out to eat together, my eyes are on her. Her curly hair, her sharp ass jawline, and her bottom lip that always seems to be slightly poked out. Just all of HER. But what does Shuri do when we’re supposed to spend quality time together? Sit in my face and fiddle with her damn kimoyo beads! She can hardly pick her eyes up from it to at least feign interest in the conversations we’re having. The only time she acts remotely attracted interested in me is when the fucking cameras come out. “Oh Y/N act like I just said something funny so they can see you laughing with me.” Or “Oh Y/N let me feed you this bite of food so they can see us being romantic.” I get that this arrangement wasn’t her first choice, HELL it wasn’t mine either but shit. We could at least try and see if there was anything between us….

What the hell did Shuri just read? Never in her life had it crossed her mind that you harbored any feelings for her other than hatred. All of this time she just assumed you had never thought of her in any other light than contempt but to hear younger you talk so candidly about the way you felt had her thinking otherwise.

Had you always felt like this?

  Was the question that bounced around in Shuri’s head as she took a seat on the edge of your bed, the journal still in hand. And if so, how had she missed the signs that had been sitting in her face so obviously? She looked down at your journal, a few more pages couldn’t hurt, right?

As much as she wanted to continue, a message from Aneka on her kimoyo beads halted her progress.  

My queen, Y/N is out of surgery and is being moved to her room in the ICU recovery unit. 

Thanking Bast out loud, Shuri stood from the bed and tucked the journal back in its hiding place. She quickly found a sweatshirt and short set she knew you felt comfortable in and rushed out of the bedroom.

The sight of you lying unconscious in the hospital bed, hooked up to dozens of wires made Shuri’s stomach churn. The doctors had updated her before she entered the room. The surgery went as well as could be expected given the amount of blood you lost and how much time it took to fly back to Wakanda from the United States. 

Additionally, your case was further complicated by the fact that the bullet used to shoot you was designed to shatter on impact. Ruling out the possibility of forensic tracing and making the doctor's jobs harder due to the extensive internal damage. It all was a lot but you would be okay and that was all that Shuri needed to hear.

“I will give you your space.” Was all Aneka said before she slipped out of the room, going to stand guard outside. There was a formalness in the way Aneka spoke that she hadn’t used before keying the queen in that her outburst from earlier had some effects on their dynamic. A small twinge of guilt ate at her, she would need to apologize but right now was not the time.

Right now all of her focus was on you, carefully tucking one of your locs behind your ear as she stood over you. You looked beautiful even now. It reminded her of the times when she couldn’t fall back asleep in the middle of the night, so she would turn and watch you. In awe of the way your eyelids fluttered and your chest raised slowly with every breath. You were a work of art in her eyes, something that even the best painters couldn’t have created. You were the reason she knew Bast had to exist because she was sure you were too beautiful to have been created by a human.

Shuri opened her kimoyo beads and read your vitals one more time before deciding that waking up to her looming over you wasn’t the best idea. She took a seat in the recliner chair next to your bed, kicking her feet up onto the bed next to yours. Knowing it was just a matter of time before the anesthesia wore off the queen opened kimoyo beads and started reading through the information that had been gathered on Liam Drockers.  

Fifteen minutes later Shuri heard the first indicator that you were awake, a groan that you tried to form into words came out slowly. Shuri immediately set the journal down and jumped to your side.

“Hey hey hey sthandwa, have some water first hmm?” Tentatively Shuri brought the straw up to your lips. “You are probably dehydrated and your throats dry, take it easy.” Even though your eyes were trained on the cup of water that you greedily sucked down, you managed to bring them up to shoot Shuri a roll of your eyes.

When you finally finished Shuri pulled the straw out of your mouth and you leaned back into your pillows trying to catch your breath.

Who knew drinking water could be so tiresome? 

Shuri leaned your bed forward so you could sit up, worried that you would somehow choke on all the water you had just downed.

Once you caught your breath you opened your mouth to speak, “Are you okay?” It came out gravelly but still, Shuri could hear it nonetheless.

“Am I okay? Umfazi wam, (My wife,) I am not the one in the hospital bed right now. Are you okay?” The way Shuri posed the question back to you had you swallowing hard.

What was the answer? Did you feel the best? hell fucking no. Underneath the grogginess you felt was an unrelenting buzz of pain, not enough to cause you true discomfort, but enough to let you know that everything was not right within you. But you knew Shuri well enough to tell right now hearing that you were not okay wouldn’t do anything but further stress her out. Whatever had happened in the time between being shot and waking up clearly was taking a toll on her and the last thing you wanted to do was add more to that.

“I feel fine enough considering.” You assured with a small smile. That little smile sent a wave of calm washing over Shuri, it was a sight at one point she wondered if she’d ever see again.

“Do you need anything? I brought you down a change of clothes but I think we should wait until you’ve got some more of your strength back. Your hair oils here too, I figured before you go to bed I could oil your scalp for you. I’ve never done it before but I think I’ve watched you enough times to know.” Listening to Shuri babble on softly about the things she’d done for you only made your smile widen, she was so attentive to you. The care she displayed almost reminded you of how Yara was before she got sick.

Yara, Josiah, Genelia, your family, shit. 

One of the machines you were hooked up to started beeping faster indicating your heart rate was increasing. Shuri looked down at you, worried that maybe she had overwhelmed you with too much too early. “Or I don’t have to oil your scalp, I was just suggesting it. I-”

“No Shuri, that's not it. Have you,” How exactly does one ask a question like this?

Have you told the media that I was shot to garner support for our relationship and goals? No, definitely not right. Did you let the public know about an extremely vulnerable moment in my life to make them more empathetic to our relationship? Yeah, you were getting farther from what you were hoping for at this point.

Your worries surrounding asking made the question fall from your lips sheepishly. “Have you said anything about this,” You gestured down to your body, “Publicly? It's okay if you did, it’s just I wanna be able to let my family hear that I’m okay you know. My siblings and everything I wouldn’t want them to think I abandoned them, again.”

The nervous tone in your voice gave your wife pause, she hadn’t heard you falter like that before. Shuri sat down on the edge of the bed and took your hands in hers. “Of course not sthandwa. I gave clear orders that nothing comes out about this until you are ready, whenever that is. I didn’t say anything to your family in all honesty because I didn’t know if you wanted me to, I didn’t want to overstep any boundaries.”

You squeezed Shuri’s hands in yours, “Thank you.”

“Of course mtuwam. (my person.) Now how about the oil?” You nodded your head eagerly, grateful that you had been blessed with such an amazing person.

The next hour you spent in Shuri’s arms. After a lot of convincing, Shuri finally agreed to sit behind you in the hospital bed, so that your back was directly in front of her chest. Your wife hummed a song to herself as she guided the oil across your scalp, rubbing gently as she finished each section. When she finished she guided you back so that all of your weight lay on her chest, your head resting on her. At that moment the hum of pain running through your body stopped, the sound of her heartbeat steadied you and her soft breathing felt like a comforting breeze. You were home.

But home could never truly hide you from bad news could it? People always found a way to disturb your peace for their own gain, no matter how low the blow was. Thats why when Aneka came into the room with a stern look on her face you knew it was some form of bad news was about to fall from her lips.

“My queens, I hate to disturb you but I figured you should see this as soon as possible.” Launching a projection from her kimoyo beads, a photo of you and Shuri with the First Lady and President from your recent visit popped up with a tweet attached.

@FLOTUSMALLORY:

We are devastated to hear about the unfortunate shooting of Queen Y/N Y/L/N Udaku. Our prayers are with the Wakandan First Family and the entire country as they rake the time they need to recover.

Taglist: @shuriszn @sokkasbae25 @verachii @cuddl3s4shur1 @takeyaki @jinnie10101 @letitias-fav @sweetalittleselfish-honey @beautybyfire @6-noir @mocha-aya @yvxmpire @mysticalmarss @ziayamikaelson @youralphawolf72 @n7cje @inmyheadimobsessed @shurisjournal @shurisbigtoe @saintwrld @pinkwright @chatitajens @playhousedistee @motheroffae @injeolmiee @tchhairbandhere @._mrqs @msudaku​ @lppriceisright​

[factorydefaultlu]

Petty Theft

Pairing: Bro Strider/Dave Strider

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Dave thinks he can keep secrets from his Bro. He's dead wrong.

There's a lot of things Dave Strider does that he shouldn't. There's also a lot of things that happen to him that shouldn't. 

It's normal for a 13 year old to try alcohol, especially when they're sneaking it from their guardians. It doesn't mean they should do it, but it's nothing that warrants anything more than a stern talking to. 

This brings up the subject of things that happen to Dave that shouldn't. 

A large bottle of whiskey had sat atop the fridge since Dave could remember. Sometimes he'd see his Bro pour a shot or two of it every now and then. For the most part the thick glass bottle collects dust, Bro prefers beer and Fourloko anyway. 

This is why Dave always thought he was being sly when he'd climb the counter, take a sip and refill the bottle with the tiniest bit of water. 

He usually snuck little drinks after a particularly bad sparring. Bro was never easy on him, and the alcohol helped make the pain feel better. 

Dave had gotten away with his little habit for over a month until one night Bro yanked him out of bed by his hair. 

He was pulling glass shards out of his arm by morning, the whiskey stinging the fresh wounds and making his blood look like watercolors. 

Just like everything else in his life, Dave learned to adapt. His habit was already holding him like a grudge and now he had to be smart about sneaking his little sips. He'd wait in agony an hour or two longer after Bro went to bed or left the apartment. 

They always had sweet tea in the fridge. A southern delicacy after all and the Striders were textbook redneck. Dave could feel the light bulb in his head flash as he poured himself a cup one night. 

The tea looked like whiskey. It'd blend perfectly, the only problem was the taste. It'd be too sweet to just mix right in. That was how Dave learned to make tea, and now he keeps a bottle of unsweet tea under his bed. Stashed away just for nights when his body won't stop aching and his wounds won't stop throbbing. 

Months passed, and Bro didn't seem to notice a bit. Dave felt like he'd finally won against his brother. 

His little habit started getting out of hand. It became a nightly thing, he'd wait for Bro's bedroom door to shut then he'd count the minutes until he felt it was safe to leave his room. 

Dave was good at sneaking, he'd learned to be light on his feet even before he started to walk on them. He knew exactly which spots on the floor to step on to avoid making them creak. He knew exactly how to open his door so hinges wouldn't squeal. His steps were mute as he carefully walked across the dingy carpet. The water bottle of tea was gripped tightly in his fist, he kept it as steady as possible to keep it from sloshing. 

There was low light coming from the bare bulb lamp in the living room, it was never turned off. No cause for alarm, it always lit the way. 

Dave hoisted himself onto the counter and maneuvered to stand on his knees. The bottle was heavy as he picked it up, studying it carefully, remembering how full it was. He carefully wiggled the cork from the whiskey bottle, making sure it didn't pop. Dave's arms trembled as he lifted the lip to his mouth and sipped. 

Even after all this time it still burned and made his face scrunch up. His breaths came in soft yet quick bouts between sips. He finally couldn't take it anymore and filled the bottle up with tea, making sure to get it to the exact level it was before he indulged. 

He slowly slid off the counter, nimbly making his way back to his bedroom. Just like every other night. Everything had gone as planned. 

Dave felt so smug, he finally had one thing his brother didn't know about and what made it even better was that it was at Bro's expense. 

Warmth bloomed in Dave's stomach and he curled up on his mattress, ready to sleep like a baby. That warmth turned into a fever rather quickly though, and he soon heard his heartbeat roaring in his ears. 

He felt like he couldn't get enough air, and as he sat up he nearly keeled over. A low groan left his lips, the sound making him wince. Dave pulled himself up from bed, stumbling to the bedroom door. 

He'd never felt like this. Not after any beating he received, not after any amount of expired food he ate. 

Something was seriously wrong. 

Dave flicked the bathroom light on, the fluorescents blinding him. He felt his way to the sink and white knuckled the porcelain as he got a look at himself in the mirror. His irises were nowhere to be seen and he was sweating bullets. A sob caught in his throat as fear boiled inside him. 

Was he dying? 

“You think I'm stupid, boy?” 

Dave yelped as Bro's deep voice echoed off the tiles. The world spun as he whipped his head towards the door. Bro's presence was suffocating, a smug irritation radiated off of him. 

Bro took a step forward and Dave stumbled back as he tried to keep distance between them. A pathetic hum resounded from Dave, “No…” 

Bro lifted his right hand, and there clasped in his fist was the bottle of whiskey. Dave's eyes went wide and his heart dropped into his stomach. 

Steel blue eyes practically burned a hole into Dave's and he felt like an ant under a magnifying glass. 

“Really now?” Bro uncorked the bottle and held it out to Dave, “You take a sip of that then and tell me it's straight whiskey.” 

Dave shook his head, “I don't like whiskey.” As soon as he said the words he regretted it. 

The room shook as Bro let out a belt of laughter. He didn't sound amused though, not in a light hearted way at least. 

“So you do think I'm stupid. I'll keep that in mind.” He walked further into the bathroom. Dave preemptively cowered and cried out as he lost his footing. The bath mat slipped from under him and he landed on his ass. Whatever was in his system dulled the pain, more than regular whiskey. 

“This is expensive shit.” The amber liquid sloshed as Bro swished the bottle. “300 dollars. You got 300 dollars?” 

For a moment Dave nearly argued, there's no way that bottle was 300 dollars. Maybe it was. Or maybe Bro was fucking with him as usual. It wouldn't be out of the question. 

Dave's mind reeled and he finally found his words to speak, knowing if he didn't answer the situation would get worse. “No, sir.” He sounded pathetic, just how Bro likes it.

A wicked smirk played on Bro's lips, the kind of smirk that made Dave's stomach curdle. “Then it looks like you're gonna have to work to replace it.”

The blood froze in Dave's veins, a stark contrast to the heat radiating off his skin. He knew what that meant, and at this point he'd rather be dead than go through it. 

Bro moved towards him slowly, like a predator stalking its prey. The steps he took were deliberate, and Dave wished he could just melt into the tiles and cease to exist. 

He yelped as Bro gripped his hair, yanking his head back in the process. Dave winced but knew not to squirm, it would only make things worse. 

“You think you're a big boy, huh? If that's the case then I wanna see you drink the rest of this bottle.” Bro's voice was threatening, Dave didn't have a choice. 

Within seconds the lip of the bottle was being pressed to Dave's mouth and the burning liquid was choking him. He sputtered, whiskey dribbling down his chin. It soaked into his shirt and began coughing. The more alcohol that hit his stomach the worse he felt. 

The bottle was soon empty and Bro tossed it aside, the sound of the glass clattering on the tiles rattled Dave to his core. 

Bro shoved Dave back, “Get up, go to my room and strip while I get the camera ready.” 

Acrid vomit threatened to come up, and Dave wished now more than ever that he was dead. 

This was going to hurt.