#I hope we get to see him go all pure FURY one day

[candyheartedchy]

Imo, this is THE BEST I’ve seen Scratch in chairman mode. I love those long, cryptic fingers, his big, long and gaping mouth, and that tongue that looks like a vine. 🧡🧡🧡

Each time he goes in that scary mode he just looks better and better! ❤️

[safely-in-vhagars-belly]

Chains of Bones: DARK!GODAEMOND X READER PART TWO (YES ITS HERE)

Tags: DARK AEMOND, GREEK MYTHOLOGY INSPIRED AU

🔷Summary: You are a servant working for the goddess Rhaenyra and the God Daemon. You are tasked with protecting the flowers and one day, you find yourself captured by rhaenyra's greatest enemy: Aemond.

🔷Author's note: Dark af.

WARNINGS: Misogny, (no kidding) emotional manpulation, dubcon, body betrayl, vaginal sex (f recv) oral sex (f recev) rough sex, mentions of loss of virginty, emotional gaslighting and gore, blood, and a lot of...BONES. (Blood licking for this chapter)

This is a dead dove

Do not eat it.

(a+ warning)

wordcount:8265 (such a chonky)

Daemon's pov

It truly is set to be a special day. He could tell by the gathering dark clouds, the thunder that lightened the dark fields outside of the palace and the way how the moon was hidden behind the clouds. Darkness had certainly been fed, in more ways than one. He can’t help but think of Aemond whenever he looks at the night sky. How close they once were, and how far they’ve fallen apart. And for what? A crown, a wife, daughters? Who started this fight and who is truly in the wrong? Daemon? Aemond? Or is this all part of some greater scheme? Fate, destiny, however you like to call it? Daemon pours himself a drink.

‘’Did you let her go?’’ A voice booms out behind him. He is startled by the appearance of his wife, the goddess of light. Rhaenyra stands before him, wearing a red, scarlet gown with long sleeves and golden details, matching her golden ever shining crown. Her hands are uneasily folded in front of her, and he can tell she is upset. He doesn’t understand it yet. But somehow his instincts tell him that it’s all Aemond’s doing. Somehow.

His wife is pale of pure terror and yet still red of fury. ‘’I can’t believe this, Daemon! How could you be so stupid?!’’ She shouts, revealing her perfect teeth. Daemon is shocked by the words she uses. ‘’Do you know who she was?’’ Aside from a hungry orphan they took in one day to attend the gardens…No. He has no clue. He doesn't care. As long as she keeps Aemond happy he could not care about her happiness at all.

He knows Aemond. He treats his lovers well and already sounded smitten beyond words. That orphan will be shocked once he showers her with gold and love, when she is getting a happier life than forever here cutting flowers and watering them. ‘’Aemond’s soulmate? His Queen? He will treat the girl well in the Underworld. He plans to marry her, make her his wife and the mother of his children. This is a good thing, Rhaenyra.’’ He grabs her gloved hands, feeling where her scar hides beneath silk and lace. ‘’Aemond promised he’d invite us to the wedding. We can be reunited, as a family. The way my brother, your father, wanted it.’’

The thought of breaking bread with Aemond Targaryen makes her blood boil. He was not meant for any of his gifts. He was not meant to be the God of death. Nothing of this was meant to happen. ‘’Do not drag my father into this. There is a reason why Aemond missed out on his godhood by choice. My father never meant for him to be a god of anything, let alone death itself! And the girl you gave to him? Did it ever occur to you that Aemond had another, darker motive to kidnap her?’’ 

He sighs but he should have expected such a rude answer. Rhaenyra is a sweet woman who doesn't understand that men sometimes are over taken by their desires. Aemond as the embodiment of death most of all. ‘’Men have desires-”

She snorts. She had hoped he would believe her and trust her word.  ‘’I used to think you were clever. Your love for your nephew has blinded you. He is the one missing an eye, but you are the blind one here. You can’t see how he’s using you, sucking you dry and ruining our lives. What do you think will happen now that Aemond founds his soulmate?’’ 

Daemon rolls his eyes. Why should he care? The girl will be wedded and bedded and married off and sooner rather than later carry Aemonds children inside her belly. Why should he be concerned with any of that? ‘’I assume he’s planning a wedding.’’

She plays with her rings, firing a question at Daemon that breaks his shield and finally shows him how dreadful this situation truly is. Rhaenyra knows Aemond did not take the girl because he was overcome with lust or love. He took her as part of a strategy. She never has been close to her half brother but she knows he won't ever behave as a smitten boy. That part of him died long ago. And it wont come back. ‘’Do you think he’ll let her die?’’ Daemon freezes. He didn't think about that. He was so happy for Aemond and for a way to weaken his powers…That he didn't think of one very crucial detail. This girl needs to be kept alive. She needs to become immortal for Aemond's desires. And that means….

She watches Daemon slow and painful battle inside his own head. She can see the disappointment in his eyes. He is disappointed in himself. And so is she. 

‘’Do you think he’ll make another mistake like that?’’ she asks as a follow up question. They both know the answer. No. No he wouldn't. Aemond would never make the same mistake twice. Daemon knows that better than anyone.

‘’Aemond will be looking into making her immortal, Daemon!’’ Rhaenyra shouts. Daemon doesn't respond at first but smashes a vase in frustration. ‘’You endangered everyone we love and hold dear! Rhaena, Baela, Jace, Joffrey, even Aegon and Viserys! He will be out with knives lurking on us all until we make the tiniest slip up so his whore can become a Goddess!” She tries to storm out of the room but he stops her by appearing right in front of her, putting his arms around her body. The light in her hands shimmers as the room darkens.

All that can be heard is the promise leaving Daemon’s lips. ‘’I will make this right.’’ He has to save his children and his wife. He will protect his family. Even if it means hurting or even killing Aemond.

Rhaenyra steps out of his reach, denying him his comfort. Her eyes are tear stained and in the corner of her eyes are silver shines. ‘’How could you? Aemond outwitted us. He won this battle. I hope for the sake of everyone that he won’t win the war.’’ 

Daemon feels panic take hold of him, the way a puppet is pulled on a string. He cannot let Aemond win. He shouts the words one more time, willing himself to believe it. ‘’I will make this right.’’

His wife doesn't respond, she touches the silver with gold entrusted crown on her blonde locks. ‘’Good luck. We have another problem. The real reason why Aemond likely kidnapped her. It has nothing to do with love. But with his plan to get his hands on the crown.’’

She sits down on her throne. ‘’He lied to you, Daemon. He doesn’t love this poor girl. He is only interested in making the girl immortal so the sacrifice can be bigger. He doesn't plan on marrying her. He plans on murdering her.”

—---

You sit in the throne room helpless and completely alone. You still can't believe all that has happened. The King of the underworld has taken you home with him, claiming that he and you have this connection as he calls it. He then captured you and made love to you when holding you prisoner in the gardens. 

Something terrifying happened in the gardens. Despite your fears and better judgment, you ended up enjoying yourself when he took you. You enjoyed his cold fingers that somehow set your skin on fire and enjoyed his mouth sucking on your skin and the way he kept taking and taking…

And that is terrifying. Because maybe that's proof of what Aemond also believes. That you somehow are meant for one another. That you are his soulmate, that your bond conquerors somehow all. That is terrifying. 

You sit on the floor, trying one last time to break the necklace Aemond put around your throat. You give it a final good yank, almost choking yourself in the process. But it's no use. The stubborn bones only become stronger and you become weaker. So that won't be your way out. Time to see what will.

You aren't sure where Aemond ran off too. You don't want to know. You eye the big iron with blue sapphires decorated throne that stands all the way back in the room. You notice banners hanging with gems and black lace, and eternal fire keeps the room well lit with torches. 

The throne looks uncomfortable and unpleasant. You wouldn't want to sit it for sure. Opposite of the throne, all the way back to the beginning of the room are two huge closed doors with dragon heads as handles. You understand that is your only way out.

You run over the lush dark red carpet that is spread before the throne, careful to not hurt yourself by tripping over your own feet or the carpet. The carpet seems to only grow and grow and the room to extend beyond its original size. You are convinced Aemond is playing a game with you at some point.

Until the carpet finally stops growing, and you stumble head first into the doors. You curse, rubbing your head as you stare at the doors. There is magic at work here. Dark magic. You try to recall all that Rhaenyra taught you about dark magic.

But aside from “Never ever use it” Rhaenyra didn't teach you anything about it. It's not her fault. She didn't know you would need it now. Neither did you. 

You push the dragon head handle all the way down and the door opens with an annoying hard screech, close to the cry of a creature. Startled, you look around before entering the hallway, worried that the noise lured Aemond out of his hiding.

But in the hallway awaits no one but tall walls with glass windows, where dark shadows hide behind. You see nothing but the lush carpet that is rolled out over the ancient stones and only hear the flames dancing in the chandeliers and the wind howling outside. 

And yet you know.

You are not alone here.

Someone is watching you.

Aemond, that is likely.

You resist the urge to scream at the halls, cursing his name and yell at him for kidnapping you. You bravely continue your exploration. Mostly because you don't want to sit around until Aemond decides to give you attention again. You don't want to give him that satisfaction. You gave him enough already. Too much.

So you go on.

Step by step and breath by breath as you explore the big castle. It is older than the castle that Daemon and Rhaenyra have. You don't know how you know that. But something inside you tells you that you are entering grounds that are older than you could even imagine. You feel like a trespasser which is ridiculous. Aemond kidnapped you. He took you here. You didn't want to come along.

Finally you end up on a fork in the road where four different halls lead to bigger hallways with more doors and more secrets no doubt. You need to make a choice. Truth be told you are afraid. You don't want to get stuck in a cursed room or worse find a lost soul. You want to find the way out. 

You eventually decide to go left. You could always walk back if you changed your mind. You walk and when you turn around..

The castle hallway has vanished and you are surrounded by darkness. Suddenly, the throne room seems much more pleasing and inviting. You step forward, chasing the light with small steps.

When you reach it, your eyes are blinded and the world fades for a brief moment. You open your eyes and see that you are in a room. It has tall walls but no windows. There are various childrens toys laying around. Toys that seem old and stitched up. Bears with missing eyes and bunnies with missing ears. There are also cradles and bassinets. The whole room appears to be a nursery.

Why would Aemond need a nursery?

You feel your throat cut off as your stomach grumbles. Your heart begins to beat louder as the worst fears come to mind. You need to calm yourself down and tell yourself that you are simply hungry. In truth, you are worried. Terrified. He thinks you are his soulmate, he is definitely interested in having children with you. You won’t let that happen, however.

But first you need to get away from Aemond. You turn around…

“Would you like a pie, Milady?” A voice whispers near your ear. You scream, turning around to face whoever asked that question. 

You are met with a skeleton of a woman. She has long brown hair that is tucked away in a veil. Her bones are clearly visible and have damage here and there. You can tell she is an old soul. The woman smiles, patting the chairs next to two bears. “I make the best pies. The secret is fresh ingredients.”  That’s not a secret at all, you want to snap at her. You don’t. 

You don't trust her.

She begins to cackle. “You are as wary as your husband. I simply wanted to offer you a welcome gift. A pledge of loyalty.” You don’t like it when she calls Aemond your ‘’husband’’. You didn’t marry him nor consent to come here. He is not your husband and you are not his wife, no matter what that bone-wearing creature thinks.

You scoff. “I don't intend to stay here.” You will make that very clear. You will find a way out and you won't become Aemonds wife or the mother of his children. You don’t want pie, you don’t want food, or anything. No. You are filled with rage and all you want is to leave this place or hit Aemond on his nose. Option one seems impossible, but option two results in certain death so you which option you’d prefer.

She seems to soften at those words. She pities you, clearly. And who wouldnt? A girl, dragged into the underworld for Aemond’s dark desires and plots. She knows him better than you do. He pretends around you, he plays and preforms. He’s her captor. He is honest with this woman.  She seems to know a truth that you do not know just yet but will learn soon enough: That Aemond always gets what he wants. “You should get something in your belly. You can't think on an empty belly.” You consider her words and sit down. “Smart lass. I make dozens of pies for your husband.” Maybe she can slip in something to make him sleep. So you can escape. 

“He is not my husband.” You hiss between your teeth. She chuckles amused.

And that's when you look at the small oven in the corner of the room. You notice more bears standing there as if guarding the oven. “What is this place?” You ask.

“This is my eternal punishment. The King mistook me for another woman and locked me here. To suffer for all eternity.” You don't understand how he is making her suffer. The room seems wellkept and there is clearly food. 

She smiles but it doesn't reach her eyes. “You should eat the pie. I made it for you.” She says. You look at the pie she presents you. You don’t have any skills aside from gardening and watering plants. But there is another skill, a hidden talent from a life before all this. You are very good at reading people, especially when they are lying to you. And this woman, whatever reason she has for you to eat that cake, it is not good.  You stand up, shaking your head trying to be polite. 

“I am not hungry. Sorry for disturbing you.” it feels as if you broke something. As if glass shatters. A barrier breaks. And the woman smashes the plate to the ground.  You watch as worms come crawling out of the pie, the one bigger than the other. She rips off her veil, revealing a big stitch around her neck. Her head is close to falling from her shoulders. 

You back away, terrified, as her head dangles. “Don't look so afraid. King Aemond stitched my head back himself.” She chuckles. “He likes it when I lose my head over and over and over and over-” You don’t let her finish, running away. She shrieks before grabbing your arm, dragging her nails into your skin as her eyes rot in her head, worms crawling over her skin and the smell of rot fills your nose. 

A shiver runs over your back as more darkness briefly kills the light in the nursery room. A magic trick. A trick that reminds you of how Aemond first introduced himself to you. There were romantic roses, to avoid scaring you. You see it now. Because he can also choose to appear in a cloud of thunder and darkness, hell and doom.

He doesn't speak a word to you and instantly addresses the woman. “What are you doing with the Queen? Didn't I warn you to stay in the cellar, where you belong?” He lifts his head. You don’t speak, aware you didn’t had his permission to enter this room and he won’t like it when he finds out you were almost murdered or tried to escape.

The woman sighs, stomping her feet in frustration but understands the fight is a lost one now. She won’t harm you. But it was never about you to begin with. It was about him. She wanted to kill you, to hurt Aemond. And you realize that many others will do the same after this woman.  “I wanted to offer her pie. She is an orphan, Aemond. You didn't tell me she is an orphan. You know what I think of orphans.” You feel uneasy. How does she even know that? 

She turns to you when you back away, eying a frying pan near the table. She has one chance. “I ran an orphanage in my old life. Aemond hated how many souls I saved so he killed me and took me with him. But I saved dozens of little children from suffering, the way I did.” she proclaims. You feel conflicted.

Aemond nods, smiling very unconvincingly  before lifting her into the air and smashing her against the table before she can even reach her weapon. Plates and bears fall to the ground as you gawk. Aemond twists his fingers and blood comes pouring out of her eyes, as well her mouth as he creates holes by cutting open vines in her face. Blood comes pouring out. “You. Hurt. Her.” he hisses, his pupil tells you all you need to know. He's obsessed, driven by revenge and out of control.  Consumed by something bigger than you, bigger than him, even. It's something ancient, something that is always just lurking around, waiting for its turn…

Darkness.

Pure utter darkness.

“You think you touch what belongs to me? Kill what is mine by right? I didn't spend years looking for her to have her stolen from me. Not by you, not by Daemon nor by Rhaenyra!” he screams at her, spit ending up on the poor woman's face. You need to stop him. 

But you are frozen all the same. No one, no one ever cared if you were hurt. No one defended you like that. You shake your head, trying to focus on saving the woman for now. No matter how nice his defence feels he's wrong for hurting her. “Your Grace-” You tell him, tugging his cloak. You even called him his grace, expecting to sooth his ego.

He doesn't hear you and if he does he does not care. “She is trembling like a leaf.” He cuts off the air of the woman by choking her. “You don't get to scare her. You will suffer for your sins.” He hisses. “I will decorate the throne hall with your blood. How dare you upset her?! Your bones will decorate her head!”

You run out of options. “Aemond!” You scream as the remaining skin of the servant flesh begins to burn away, revealing deep holes with rotten bones below. You grab his arm, putting a stop to it.

You are pushed back by a force, ending up on the floor. Aemond stops immediately what he is doing, regret and worry written across his face as he kneels down besides you. He grabs your hands, rubbing the skin with his fingers as he looks into your eyes. “Petal, my dear. Speak to me.” He pleads. You sit back up, without his help.

“Never do that again.” He bites out, the moment he knows you are fine. “You could have been hurt.” He adds. He turns to the woman. He notices the worms on the floor. His cold expression becomes even colder. The woman trembles as Aemond crushes a worm under the heel of his boots. “To the fire with you. I will decide your fate later. But prepare for torture like you never had before.” Aemond vows before making the woman vanish.

You catch your breath. You can't believe he did that. Without any intentions he did that. He could've killed you. Easily. You need to be careful. This man might be your soulmate according to him but that doesn't make you a goddess. It makes you mortal and vulnerable. It makes you weak.

You decide to ask the truth. “You were hurting that woman.” He tilts his head as if confused before he breaks into a soulless grin. He gestures around the room, before bending and picking up a teddy bear with two missing eyes.

“You don't know who she is, do you?” You don't care who she is, she is to be treated with respect. Rhaenyra taught you that. Souls who come by her are treated gently before they are prepared to move on. And here they are treated unlike any being deserves. You don't think knowing her name is going to change that fact.

She tried to kill you, yes. But who wouldn’t in this situation? Clearly the woman is desperate or mad. Or both.  “Does it matter? No one deserves to be treated that way.” But once you have said it out loud, somewhere begins to creep this feeling that something isn't adding up to the woman's words.

“My kind, sweet, innocent Petal.” He murmurs, his good eye shimmering with adoration and love. He meant it as a compliment, you are certain of that but by the way the words leave his lips and how he looks at you, you feel mocked and ridiculed. 

He chuckles as you reveal your teeth snarling in anger. “Come now. I don't wish for us to fight. So I'll be honest about something. I can't drag souls with me to the Underworld. Everyone you see has come here by the design of the system. It has been this way since the last King.” So she earned It. That is his cryptic answer. 

“Except you.” He adds, when you open your mouth to protest. “Daemon had to give me permission before I could take you.” He makes his voice soft and gentle as if trying to smooth your nerves. As if he's romanticizing your kidnapping already. “Not that it would have mattered. If he didn't give you to me, I would have taken you another way.” He chuckles and you want to hit him when he caresses your face, booping your nose.

He sighs, putting the bear back on the chair, turning his fleeting attention back to the room.

“The woman you defended, deserves her punishment. She ran an orphanage.” so she told you.

You make a scoffing noise. Of course, that would upset him. She stole souls from him. What a bastard. “What a great criminal genius.” The sarcasm is dripping from your words. “Imagine her punishment if she taught them how to read as well.” You say, with a eye roll.

Aemond does not respond, and he doesn't smack you against the table either. His hand keeps rubbing the belly of the teddy bear he held moments ago, lost in thought. “She killed them, Petal.” You freeze. You wanted to ask who. You aren't sure why. You know who they are. You know who killed them. She did. She killed orphans. Innocent defenseless children who had no one to look out for them. You could easily be one of them. 

Aemond continues, his voice cold. “There were so many children's skulls, that I myself lost count. She would force them to do labor for her and if they died she chopped them into pieces, and put them into her pies. She gave the pies to starving people.  Except the eyes. She kept the eyes and put them into her teddy bears.” 

You feel as if smacked in your face.

You feel sick and horrified. You stare at the teddybears who all miss eyes. Those poor children. You don't have words for it. You are sick to your stomach. “She was worshipping you, wasn't she? That is why she kept their eyes.” You say, rubbing your stomach as it makes an unsettling noise. You remember some people who worship Rhaenyra leaving candles for her or shiny stones.

For Aemond, they likely leave eyes.

How horrible and twisted.

Aemond nods confirming your accusation. You expect him to laugh about it or make a joke. His voice sounds as if a nail hitting a casket. Repeatedly. He is furious. “....Yes. And that only makes my fury bigger. She deserves all the punishments I give her. Unlike what you were maybe taught, I don't enjoy senseless murder. I care a great deal about justice. Which is exactly why that woman should be locked up in the basement.”

You can hear some dark chuckle coming from his throat which sounds very sudden. Aemond's smile becomes a little broader and a little darker. You feel shivers run down your spine as he begins to approach you smirking. “But we haven't had time to discuss the most important question of all: What are you doing here, Petal?”

You know you got yourself almost killed. So does he. You can feel the fury radiating from him and the disappointment. He is upset you even tried to run. “I, what happened to the children?” You ask, trying to spin the conversation. “Did you save-” Your voice is cut off the moment Aemond calmly raises his hand silencing you.

He leans in closer, grabbing you tightly. You battle but don't last long. He is stronger. “Do not change the subject. You will answer me.” He whispers in your ear. When you don't answer, He grabs your arms, pinning you over the table and begins to kiss your neck. He moans against your throat.

“I am your Queen!” You cry out helplessly as he begins to kiss you again. You try to find it hateful and disgusting what he's doing with you. He needs to understand that while you enjoy his touch, you don't enjoy being treated as an object. You hope that reminding him of your title and position makes him see how terrible he is treating you.

But this time, his seemingly gentle and slightly terrifying side that seems to care so much about your wellbeing, is nowhere to be found. The monster is all that remains. 

“My queen, my wife!” he bites out between the painful kisses. “You know what happens when Kings are displeased with their Queens? They'll get punished. And that just happens to be something I'm quite good at.” He whispers. You begin to silently cry regretting you even set a foot outside today. You pray to Rhaenyra wishing for her to come save you.

You cry, tugging the necklace desperate to break it. Aemond scoffs as you nearly choke yourself. “You should know that the necklace cannot be broken or destroyed. You made it part of your own body and soul  when you touched my crown. Your own life is fueling the chain. You should also know that the bones chain you to me. You can't leave my side ever. Or you'll die.” He reveals. “And stop praying to her. She can't come down here. Not without my approval.” He grins, smirking as you continue to cry. 

He kisses your salty cheeks, feeling the way you tremble and you can tell by the way his pupils grow that it only arouses him more. “No one is coming to save you. No one can save you. You are where you belong.” He lets out another much deeper moan as he begins to lick your neck, stealing hungry glances at your breasts.

You hold back a soft moan as Aemond kisses your lips, spreading your legs. You hear his laughs and his dark chuckles. You shove his arms away, angry and upset.  “Why deny yourself pleasure, my darling? Don't you know I can hear every dirty thought echoing in your mind? How you want me to rip your dress open and for me to have my way with you?” You do and you do not. You have two people living inside of you, it seems. Your sensible experienced personality, who knows what Aemond does is wrong. And something primal, ancient and out of this world strange who just wants to let him do what he wants. 

Aemond smiles as your inner battle continues. He tries to convince you once more. “It felt good, didn't it, Petal? You enjoyed feeling full. You enjoyed getting fucked and being stuffed. You enjoyed it all and you have the audacity to lie to me that you don't feel our bond.” It's true what he says. There is something between you two, something big and it's real. It's terrifying you. It makes you want to run far far away from.

He sees you tense up. He tries to lower your walls again. “I felt it too. The way how tight you wrapped around me. It was as if inserting a key in a very special, stubborn lock. There was no need for me to twist or to be rough. The chest just…opened.” he shudders at the delightful memory recalling how he fucked you sore and bloody in the garden.

You want to protest and argue. Fight and resist. But you can't. “You rise so quickly, my little Petal. Delicate and fast. That's good. I have needs and desires and I am sure to have needs for you.” You shiver as he runs a finger over the chain you wear, stimulating your spine. You wonder if he's going to touch you now. You are longing for it, you discover. Aching. Wanting. No.

Needing.

Aemond smirks, coming closer to your body. He leans in as if to kiss you, his lips inches from your own. He lifts your skirts, feeling you between your legs. “Such a shame, though, that I am punishing you.” He says before removing his fingers taunting you with a soft little pet almost a brushstroke. “I want you to understand that you are my Queen. But you are to be my wife too. The wife's duty in marriage is to provide for her husband's needs and his desires. It's to have his children one day.” 

That little confession is enough to break the magical spell and to make you understand how terribly messed up your situation truly is. “What?” you whisper, horrified at his confession. “I didn't sign up for that!” You take a shaky breath. Aemond seems to be confused as he stares at you, his grip loosening. He stares at you but he isn't there. He stops kissing you. He caresses your face, muttering words but doesn't speak them. 

“Petal…?” He mutters. You are terrified and confused. His silence and empty eyes betray that somehow you weren't talking to Aemond at all moments ago. You were talking to whatever possessed him. He can't seem to control it. You are aware of that. You are stuck with arguably the most powerful God of all, and he can’t seem to control his own darkness and powers. You are in great danger.

“Please let me go.” you whisper. “I can't make you happy. I can't make anyone happy. You'll be miserable around me.” You don’t even lie. You make for terrible company.

He only grabs you tighter, upset that you are even resisting him to begin with. “You are a stubborn little thing. In time, you see this is something good! You can't be stolen from me, my love. You'll be at my side, where you belong. You'll be my Queen and my love. The mother of-” You freeze at that last word. You never had a mother. You don't know how to be a mother. You don't want to be one. You can't be one.

You pick up the pan closeby your hand and smack Aemond across his face. The King is injured but heals instantly scowling in a way that reveals you didn't do much damage. You made things only much worse. “You mean your whore! You don't allow me any freedom! If I am a Queen, why am I treated as a prisoner? Why do you say you want to punish me and hurt me? Why do you-” You tear up, sobbing as he begins to kiss you, bearing your neck naked so he can kiss you properly and bite you painfully to punish you.

“Because I don't trust you yet.” He says.

You scoff. You know he is right. But it all sounds like he’s making excuses. “I've given you my all. My virginity, my pride.” He laughs, darkly as he throws his head back into his neck. He scoffs at your tears.

“You didn't give me anything. I took it from you. You were aroused and wanting but you also were afraid and insecure. So I had to take the first steps.” He pushes the crown on his head  a bit further as you avoid his eye. He lifts your chin gently and wipes away your tears.

His glare becomes a playful sly glance as he begins to touch. “The first time is known to hurt. You did well. You obeyed and even joined in on the fun. I want to bet that once you see how I am, you and I will spend so many happy years together.” His mood swings confuse you. He also seems to really really believe that his personal happiness depends on you.

“What makes you say that?” You wonder why Aemond Thinks you are his one true love. You want to know what the liar told him and squeeze their eyeballs out.

He smiles, already forgotten how he pinned you down and bit you. “You're like me. A kindred spirit. We seek the limits. We break them and change them. That's how we are. We are unlimited and endless.” He makes you sound so powerful. So fearful. So …immortal.

You stare into his eye, caressing his face gently. You sit back up on the table. You lean in and as day and night circling each other your lips find his own. You burn yourself hissing as you stop the kiss. He brings his little finger to your burned lips, healing you with a single simple touch. He kisses you again and again as you slowly become infused with toxic wants and desires that you shouldn't have for him just yet.

Aemond was so keen on playing with your feelings earlier, denying you your pleasure. You will pay him back for that. You wait until Aemond has the increased and much darker pupils again, understanding all too well you mess with something you shouldn’t mess with. His grip is tighter and small burns appear soon on your wrists as he undresses you and himself, sloppily and full of groans. He spreads you, before slamming himself inside of you, grunting in your neck. You feel your own skin burn under his, and worry this could kill you. “This is where you belong. On your back, taking my seed and cock. You think you can escape but from the moment I laid eyes on you, you were meant to be mine.” 

He begins to trust his hips, keeping eye contact with you as he thoroughly seems to feel every inch of you, trusting himself inside of you, painful and slow. He takes his time discovering you, watching your reactions closely as he begins to experiment on your body.

He goes for your breasts first, greedily sucking on your tits. Your arousal grows and your body likes it, but the pain that follows isn’t pleasant at all. When Aemond’s mouth leaves your tits, you notice small burns on your breasts. You are shocked.

“You hurt…” You mutter, trying to push him off you.

Aemond rolls his eye, quickly kissing you to get you quiet and pushes you back on the table, taking you deeper and rougher. “You'll be healed. I promise. I know you want this too, Petal. Your arousal has not gone unnoticed. And you do deserve a punishment for disobeying me.” He whispers when taking you. You try to be strong and stoic and cold. He is hurting and pleasuring you at the same time. Does he even realize that your skin can’t handle whatever is going on with his lips?

You wait until Aemond is distracted, slipping away for a moment, turning your back to his front. It doesn’t take long before you are back on the same table, his hands on your butt while you hear the loudest smack you ever heard and feel a stinging burning pain. You scowl. “What in the world?! Did you just hit me?!” You will kill that man.

He grins, shrugging. He doesn’t even seem to care. He takes the cheeks he spanked so painfully and begins to rub and feel your flesh. “I spanked you. That's a bit different. My intention isn't to cause you pain. It's to make you embrace your destiny.’ A lie, clearly. You can tell. You study his face, the way his eye is glued to your belly tells you he doesn’t want to talk about it. His pupil has become fully black, even the usual white part. Just one endless, black and terrifying eye staring at you. He grabs you by your hips, entering you from behind, grunting in your ear as he takes you. You pleasure builds as you try to find enjoyment in this. It isn’t difficult. He seems to know your body somehow better than you know it yourself. You just wish the burns wouldn’t hurt so much. “If only I could just stay inside of you forever. But I know you are hurting. The burns and bruises..” Aemond groans as you playfully twist his own nipple, giving him a taste of his own medicine. He grins, grabbing you by your hair and pulls you playfully closer, taking you again. ‘’That tickled.’’ You don’t doubt it for a moment. You aren’t weak and can pack quite the punch. Aemond just happens to be an immortal God. Pain works differently for him. He heals faster too. You saw it with the pan. There’s not even a scar. A human being would’ve been knocked out. 

You like it so far. But you want more. You think of the best way to play him, to get what you want. You push his hands off you. Within seconds they are on the table, almost glued to the top. He bites your earlobe, feeling your parts as you feel pleasure burn through your skin, your veins and your very soul. ‘’Do not resist it. You won’t get far anyway. I know this place better than you do. You’ll only end up in troublesome situations.’’ He chuckles, the bastard. You are tempted to kick him for his little condensing note at the end but instead you fake a submissive little sigh and allow him to fuck you again. He stops, studying your face. ‘’You think you can outsmart me, don’t you, Petal? You think I don’t notice? I do, my little human Queen. You get to do all the messed up dark dirty things with me when we are in bed. I don’t mind an uncouth partner. I quite like being kept on my toes.’’ You mutter in your head that he yaps too much. Too much yapping, more fucking. Aemond as if reading your mind gives a rough, almost shattering trust to your core, causing you to cry out loudly for release. He holds you down, smirking. ‘’Just don’t be offended, if I pay you back for it. Yes?’’ He waits for you to answer but slams inside of you, bringing you to the edge and forcing you to fall. You are hit with many emotions of pain and bliss as you come as he takes you, crying out for mercy. He grabs you tight, and you hear him grunt your name as he finishes inside of you, bending your head down and giving you one last rough fucking. You pant, turning around and facing him, blood dripping down your face. Aemond tilts his head, studying your naked, bruised and slightly burned body. He brings his fingers to your forehead, scooping up blood that comes out of your forehead. You watch speechless as he licks it, tasting it.  ‘’Mhm. Don’t get frightened. It’ll heal.’’ He says. You move, setting your feet down on the floor. The floor changes colour under your feet, and when you lift your head you are in a lavish bedroom.

The walls are gold with scarlet. Golden chandeliers shimmer on the ceiling, dangling peacefully. Diamonds and gemstones decorate the walls, together with paintings of animals. You are now sitting on a huge bed, suited for more than two people. You sink in the pillows, wearing a new appropriate red silk gown, definitely the most expensive thing your fingers have ever touched. You look around the room, closer. You notice a vanity with a hairbrush and a matching stool, a room where you can see one or two dresses hanging in, and when you look at the flowers on the golden gilded nightstand, you see there are no real flowers there. Just dark purple amethyst shaped into flowers. You are absolutely blown away. There were days you starved, days you stole and robbed to eat pathetic little crumbs. And now? You could buy a carriage with this. Or a horse. Or both.

Aemond stands before the bed, giving you a wink, clearly happy you like your new bedroom. You don’t want to like it. You feel as if you don’t deserve it. “Sleep well, love. I will be back. Try to not miss me so much.” You glare. He waves, chuckling before almost skipping out of the room, completely in his own world. You stare at the ceiling, and notice paintings of dragons and flowers. You close your eyes instead, trying to block out the wealth. 

You lift your head, staring at the vanity. When you see your reflection looking back, you see that from your head, two small pale, claw-like things have come crawling outside of your neck, outside of your skin. Your bone necklace, the necklace Aemond told you was unbreakable, has grown into your skin. You don’t know what that means, as Aemond didn’t explain it to you. But it can’t be good.

-

Flames dance in the chandeliers as four people sit around one marble table. Queen Rhaenyra plays with her rings, unintentionally causing the room to be hidden in darkness from time to time. Her consort and husband, King Daemon sits next to her, his eyes always wandering to the door, afraid that Aemond shows up at this council.

His daughter, Baela catches his glance. ‘’You can stop looking. Aemond has better things to do than spy on us. He thinks he can’t be stopped anyway.’’ Daemon stops, embarrassed his own daughter had to point this out. Baela sighs, not even bothering to apologize. It’s been years, but she still remembers what Aemond did. And what he took from her.

Rhaenyra speaks. ‘’Does anyone have any idea to stop Aemond?’’

Jace, god of Charm and Rhaenyra’s heir, speaks up.

‘’We can kill her.’’ He suggests. A stupid plan. It would not make a difference. It would only make Aemond angry and vengeful. It won’t strip him of his powers. And that is what needs to happen.

The Goddess of Momento laughs, scoffing at his naive little plots and plans. She always is reminded of Jace’s godhood being mere…well, social. Not very mental. Hers, on the other hand… ‘’Yes, because that went so well the last time.’’ Her twin sister, Baela rings out dryly. Baela plays with an orange that switches between the stages of rot and freshness, as her clear time magic is being put to use. ‘’I haven’t forgotten what happened to Lucerys because of Aemond. He’s the reason I am without a husband, and Rhaenyra with one son.’’

The Queen of Realms and light, bows her head in gratitude, thanking Rhaena for the defense. Jacaerys scoffs, insulted that his rule is undermined. He finds it stupid that the two dragon girls are even invited here, at this council. The last time they were involved, they caused Aemond to kill Lucerys. It is their fault. Aemond threw the blade, but they armed him. They are guilty, same as him.

Rhaenyra hisses as the crown briefly slips from her head, falling on the table. She quickly puts it back on her head, casting a magic spell to see if she can track the girl’s thoughts. But nothing appears. Silence. Deadly silence.  ‘’It’s going faster than I thought. I can’t track her anymore.’’ She announces. 

The three others glance at each other, uneasily. Is she already killed?  ‘’What did he do?’’ Rhaena wonders out loud, not questioning anyone. Dark magic has always fascinated her.

Queen Rhaenyra throws her hands on the table, frustration getting the better of her as the chandelier dangles dangerously, the light in them flickering. ‘’Likely something! I don’t know. I don’t know dark magic. My father intended for my son to follow the path of death, my boy, my sweet boy who was the good itself. Not this, dark individual corrupted by power!’’ Daemon tries to comfort her, but she only pushes him away. Daemon still is blamed for her son’s death. No matter how much he tries to redeem himself. She will never forgive him.

Rhaena brings the attention back to her. ‘’I’ve seen some things. The girl isn’t happy that Aemond kidnapped her. If we can get to her, we can destroy him. Using his own love against him.’’ A wild plan. A foolish plan. A genius plan.

‘’You think this girl will betray Aemond?’’ Jace asks, scoffing. He finds it a dumb plan. 

But Rhaena is very sure of her case. She spent time watching Aemond, yes. She knows him well. But she spent more time watching this girl. Aemond wasn’t the only one who knew of her existence. Rhaena knows her better than he ever could. ‘’I think this girl is more keen on surviving than anything. We don’t have to keep her alive, of course.’’ Her eyes briefly go to Rhaenyra, who nods. She folds her hands on her lap.

The Queen nods. ‘’It’s for the best that after Aemond is defeated and the crown is back where it belongs, that we murder the girl. She has seen too much. It would be a mercy to grant her a quick death after enduring Aemond’s torture.’’

‘’Agreed.’’ Jace mutters. ‘’I can get into the Underworld. I don’t need much, just one conversation and I’m sure with Rhaena’s help I can convince her to turn on Aemond.’’ 

Daemon, who hadn’t been listening at all to what anyone was saying, looked up at long last. ‘’How do you plan on getting into the Underworld, exactly? You think Aemond is going to roll out the carpet for you and make you his best man?’’

Jace smirks, enjoying the way everyone listens to what he has to say. ‘’I am quite charming, when I want to be. But my in isn’t at Aemond’s mercy. It’s at his girl’s. Once she’ll know how to summon me, she’ll do so, and tada, out of the upper world, into the hellfire.’’

Daemon remains unconvinced. Jace will get himself killed. ‘’How will Aemond not kill you when he sees you around his girl?’’ Aemond is known to be protective and violent around men who mess with his girls in the past.

His laugh is starting to annoy Daemon, so Jace quickly stops it. ‘’I don’t know this girl, but I assume she wouldn’t like it if Aemond showed his true, murdery side to her. I think he’ll behave and lie to get her approval.’’

Rhaenyra shakes her head. They need someone Aemond would trust blindly, and give his life for. Someone who can make him open the portal, someone who would now come back into his life, with his wedding and his newfound love. Someone who can awaken that cold dead heart of his. Someone like…Rhaenyra slams with her hands on the table, smirking. ‘’It is too risky. We must appeal to her. We must turn to the Goddess of Justice. The Queen of Right and Wrong.’’

Baela shakes her head, disliking where this is going. ‘’You can’t mean…?’’

Rhaenyra nods. ‘’But I do.’’ Her eyes are burning with determination. ‘’We must ask Alicent Hightower for help.’’ The Goddess of Justice, the Goddess of right......

and Aemond's own blood.

His mother.

A/N

Such a chonker chapter holy cheeseballs.

I hope you all enjoy this chapter.

I love you

God Aemond loves you too (he boops your nose haha)

[dreamsofbroflovski]

Leopold "Butters" Stotch x Reader - sweet escape

Also available on ao3!

Summary: When you and your darling boyfriend break up, Eric Cartman's inner cupid decides to make sure you two get back together... By fucking your way right out of that argument.

Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content (EVERYONE INVOLVED IS ABOVE THE AGE OF CONSENT), Explicit Language, Cisgender female Reader, Aphrodisiacs, Nipple Play, Nipple Orgasm, Penis In Vagina Sex, Bathroom Sex, Creampie

A/N: I've had this in my Docs for almost 2 months now, and never got to properly finish it. Then yesterday I went berserk and stayed until 4am writing and cleaning up the draft so I could have it up by today.

We have an utter drought of Butters x Reader smut in this fandom, so I hope I did our sweet guy justice.

Obligatory "English is not my first language, if anything sounds like total nonsense it probably is so please let me know" This is also my first fic after whole years without writing anything creative and my first smut work in general and IDK how to feel about it

It was your average Monday morning in Park County. People from all walks of life had frowns on their faces as they made their way to school or work, missing the protection of their warm blankets and the peacefulness of a deep sleep. In your high school, most of the students hung about in the hallways as they waited for classes to start, and the cliques standing around together provided some warmth for its members, both emotionally and physically.

At the end of one of the corridors, in one of the staircases, hung out a particular group of young men, lazing around and chatting about their weekend like everyone else. Some of them stood, leaning on the wall or the handrail, while others sat on the steps, basically creating a barricade against anyone who wanted to go up or down the stairs - not that many people tried, anyway; over the course of their high school days all the way to the current senior year, the South Park boys had kind of made that particular part of the stairs their hangout spot, and the other students really just preferred to take any necessary detours than have to deal with the certified biggest assholes in the whole school.

As they began to engage in yet another heated debate over some useless topic, almost none of them saw a certain blonde man arrive. This was not abnormal - most people were never paying attention to Butters, unless they needed him for a favor. What was abnormal, however, was the expression he carried. Butters was a normally friendly and peaceful person, always with a smile on his face even in the most inhospitable of days; to see him like he was now, walking with heavy steps like a soldier, his face down and gaze fixed on his own feet, it didn’t take much from anyone to see that he was not doing well. 

“Hey there, fellas.” He spoke in an unusually low voice, not looking up for even a second to acknowledge his peers. Almost all the other boys responded with a quiet Hey or a quick movement of the head, but he didn’t acknowledge either of those greetings, too engulfed in his own feelings.

“Oh, hey, Butters, there you are.” Cartman said, looking briefly at his direction but almost seeing past him, clearly not realizing what was amiss - Eric couldn’t care about someone else’s feelings to save his life. “Thank God you’re here, I have to talk to you about something later and it’s really important, if you didn’t show up it would’ve really fucked me over. You’re really gonna have to make up to me later for that. We’ll go over what you can do during lunch, so tell your bitch to - hey, where’s your bitch, anyway?”

“I DON’T KNOW, I DON’T CARE, AND IF ANY OF YOU DO THEN YOU CAN GO FUCK YOURSELVES!” was Butters’ immediate answer, in such a thundering angry tone that it made the whole group flinch in fear. This was the first moment he actually looked at his so-called friends that Monday, and his face was one of pure fury. “And if YOU-” he turned in his heels to face Cartman, pointing a finger at his face, “-think I’m going to be a part of whatever fucking evil deeds you have planned right now, then you better sit that fat ass of yours down, because I ain’t helping you anymore, got it?” He turned again to glare at the rest of the guys, who all had wide eyes. “Or any of you bitches either! I’m done with you jerks! DONE!”

“Dude, dude, calm down, it’s okay-” Kyle was the one to first try and appease the situation, seeing as everyone else was too afraid to make a movement. He tried to reach an arm out to Butters, but it was promptly slapped out of his reach by the latter.

“IT’S NOT FUCKING OKAY! Everyone hates you, y’all fucking hate each other, and then you sit around here and pretend to be best friends! Oh, but y’all won’t say anything because if you do y’all gon’ have to hang around with fucking Kip Drordy ‘till graduation! And I’ll tell you what else-”

He eventually became engulfed by his own rage, breathing rapidly as he looked around for anything else he could say his truth about.

“Easy there, buddy. Look, I haven���t had breakfast yet, how about you and I go pick up a snack in one of the vending machines?” Kenny tapped on Butters’ shoulder, gesturing in the direction of the canteen.

“I don’t want no goddamn snack!” Butters yelled right in Kenny’s ear, but the latter didn’t even acknowledge the rudeness, being used to worse back at his house.

“Yes, you do. Now let’s go.”

The whole staircase group watched in silence as Kenny dragged Butters far away, and then all faces turned to Cartman.

“Great job there, fatass.” Kyle snarled, rolling his eyes.

“Fuck you, Kyle! What the hell did I do now?” Cartman raised his voice, pointing a finger in Kyle’s face, then signaling with his other hand towards the corridor through which Butters had just left. “He’s the one that started acting like a chick on her period! That’s got nothing to do with me!”

“You provoked him, dude! You know he’s sensitive about that shit these days!”

“Butters is always sensitive, dude! What is his problem NOW?”

The other boys looked at each other, unsure if Cartman’s behavior was legitimate. “You really don’t know what you did?” Kyle asked, almost a surprised tone in his voice, his eyebrows arched.

“No! If I’m going to be blamed for shit, at least tell me what it is!” Eric huffed, tired of the back-and-forth.

Kyle took a deep breath. “Butters and (Y/N) broke up this weekend.”

The news had Cartman legitimately shocked. “Really? Why didn’t he tell me?”

“But he did. He told all of us.” Stan picked up his phone and turned the screen towards Cartman, with the messages app open, and started scrolling up quickly with his free hand, which made it impossible for the other to be even able to read anything. “It’s all over the group chat, dude.”

“Oh, right. I didn’t read that shit, I was rushing the battle pass for the new Fortnite season.” Cartman waved his hand in dismissal and Stan put his phone back in his pocket.

“Then you can’t complain about not being informed of stuff as soon as it happens.”

“Alright, alright, my bad. But man, hope they get back together.”

Eric wasn’t really feeling bad about causing Butters to snap or worried about your romance out of care for his friend. More so, like everything else in his life, the fatass wanted you to sort your issues because that would bring him personal benefit. He needed your lover for something in the coming days, a very important plan he had been cooking, and that breakup could very well ruin it all.

When you and Butters first got together, Cartman thought this was the death of his most useful pawn, maybe he’d even have to spy on your relationship to make sure you wouldn’t be too much of an inconvenience. To his surprise, the opposite turned out to be true - the already affable young man became even more docile, if that was even possible. He was also willing to do damn near anything if it meant your happiness, so the only thing Cartman ever had to do to get his help was make up some bullshit story about how that scheme was actually going to be great for your relationship and how you’d be so glad if Butters just assisted him with this one thing (despite said thing having nothing to do with you at all, and you normally not being aware of the stuff until it happened). Since the blonde was mad at you, that meant the usual strategies wouldn’t stick.

Whatever it was that was creating this rift between you two, it had to end fast.

“But why the hell did they break up, anyway?” Eric continued, hoping to gather more information that he could use to reverse the situation.

“You’d know if you read the group chat!”, three or four of the guys answered in unison.

“Hell, I don’t read the group chat either and even I know what happened”, said Craig. He wasn’t usually one to engage in his colleagues’ dumb fighting, so, since the most aloof person on Earth had an opinion on the subject, Cartman knew he’d been missing out.

“You don’t read the group chat?!” Tweek yelped, looking at Craig with a panicked expression on his face - even more panicked than the one he had at any given time. “ACK!- You gotta read it, babe! What if one of us gets injured, dies, and you never find out because you didn’t read the group chat? What if EVERYONE dies and our last wishes are all in the group chat? UGH!”

He then seemingly got really scared of this hypothetical situation he himself created, proceeding to hyperventilate and tremble on the spot.

“I don’t read them because you do, babe. Then you tell me everything. Your texts are the only ones I ever need to read.” 

Craig patted Tweek’s hair a few times and kissed him on the forehead after speaking, which seemed to calm down the anxious male, who let out a contented sigh as his lungs seemed to finally allow him to breathe properly again. Everyone else around rolled their eyes at this, and Jimmy, out of the couple’s line of sight, stuck his tongue out and made a gesture pointing down his throat as if going to vomit.

“What do you guys do when the girls are mad at you, though?” Kyle asked, looking across the group, focusing on no one in particular - Kyle was the only one there who never managed to be in a long-term relationship (his surreal bad luck with women was extremely good content for jokes around those parts), and wouldn’t have an answer to that particular question.

“I just fuck mine ‘till she’s stupid”, Clyde answered immediately, with a hint of pride in his voice.

“Jesus, Clyde!” Tolkien gawped at the man next to him. Even if they were used to that type of vulgar speech, hearing it early in the morning on a Monday was a less than ideal setup. “Didn’t your mom teach you some manners or something?”

“As a matter of fact, no. She couldn’t.” Clyde looked sad for a moment. “But it’s real, you guys. Whenever Bebe starts bitching my ear off about some nonsense, I just take her somewhere private and give it to her good. By the time we’re done, she can’t even remember what it was she wanted, so it’s a win.”

“She probably just drops the issue because she knows you’re too stupid to hold any kind of deep conversation with”, stated Craig, earning a chuckle from most of the guys.

“Hey! It’s not like you’re any kind of master communicator either, Mr. Don’t-Read-The-Group-Chat!” Clyde retorted, hitting Craig - and Tweek, by association - right where it hurted.

By then, Cartman had tuned out the voices of all the other guys, the gears in his mind turning furiously. Clyde, however much of an idiot he could be, had unironically given him the solution to his most pressing problem. 

༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩♡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚

Later on, at night, the only lights on in a particular suburban street were those in the kitchen of the Cartman household.

Eric had an old cookbook open in the counter in front of him, alongside an assortment of ingredients and kitchen utensils. The food laid out seemed like your average components for making cupcakes - sugar, eggs, flour, the works -, but, hidden in the middle of it all, camouflaging itself nicely with the vanilla extract in a way that one would really need to pay attention to realize, was a bottle containing an edible aphrodisiac concentrate - the wonders of same-day delivery allowed it to be dropped off at Cartman’s doorstep right that afternoon when he bought it in the morning. 

After being done with all the other ingredients in the bowl, following the instructions in the book to a tee - Cartman could fool around with many things, but food was not one of them -, Eric grabbed the tray with the liners he had set and transferred the mixture to them. After that, he picked up that one particular bottle, turning his attention to two specific tins closest to him in the tray, lined with red cases. The bottle had instructions in the back of it - thorough information about its content, advice about the amount that was to be used and general warnings -, but the cook was having none of that, instead dumping the liquid in the two tins until he felt satisfied. In his mind, the more effect it made, the easier for him.

When that was done, he carefully put the tray into the oven and moved on to other parts of the recipe.

༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩♡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚

The next day, Eric Cartman was on a mission. Along with the usual backpack, he carried with him to school a small box that smelled faintly of vanilla. The cupcakes had turned out really dang nice, if he could say so himself, and now it was time to pacify a certain pair of lovebirds.

After going to the usual staircase, he was surprised to find that his target, the only one of those assholes he cared to see today, was not around - but it wasn’t without reason; ever since his outburst yesterday, most of the other guys had decided to leave Butters alone with his anger until the issue was resolved, so he got warned to take his sulking elsewhere because it was bringing everyone down. As soon as he found that out, Eric turned on his heels and continued through the hallways, leaving his other colleagues very confused.

Making his way to Butters’ locker, he found the blonde male unaccompanied, mumbling some nonsense as he picked up everything he needed for the upcoming classes.

“Butters! Hey, buddy.” Cartman approached him with a smile.

“Fuck off, Eric!” Butters slammed the door to his locker, startling everyone who dared to be around him.

“Woah, calm down dude, I just wanted to give you this.” Cartman opened the box in his hands and carefully picked one of the cupcakes that had the red liner, handing it to his infuriated friend. “Might make you feel a little better.”

“Oh- huh- Really? Thanks.” Butters seemed genuinely surprised that someone, no matter who, was being nice to him. He picked up the cupcake, taking a bite out of it right away and getting some of the whipped cream on the side of his mouth. “That’s awfully nice of ya. You’re a good person, ya know, Eric. UNLIKE SOMEONE I KNOW!” He said that last part too loud, facing the corridor, as if he expected you to be around so you could hear all about how much he hated you right now. Unfortunately, you were nowhere to be found - instead, he yelled that stuff right while a group of young freshman girls happened to be passing through, laughing about something. They jumped in fear, looking at him like he was a maniac, and quickened their steps to leave as soon as possible while whispering to each other.

“Yeah, yeah, Butters, I know, I’m amazing” Eric replied, absent-mindedly, setting his sights on the end of the corridor, planning his escape route. “Look, man, I gotta go, see you in class or whatever.” Not even saying a word more than the absolutely necessary, he left Butters’ side as well, this time looking for his next objective.

Luckily, he didn’t take too long to find it as well. Right as he turned the corner, you stood next to another set of lockers, next to Red and Wendy. As they talked eagerly about something, though, you kept to your silence, also dwelling on your fight with your ex-boyfriend. You just weren’t trying to make your anger everyone else’s problem was all, but the other girls knew better than to talk about it near you or ask you questions, lest a wrong word also have you snapping.

Cartman beelined to your group, and as you all saw him coming up, the happy chatter immediately turned into silence. “Hello, ladies”, he spoke, earning a raised eyebrow from you and a questionable stare from the two other girls. “Might I interest you in some cupcakes?”

Before anyone could answer, he opened the box in his hands again, carefully picking a cupcake and handing it to every member in your trio, making sure to give you the one with the red wrap. He had made sure to bring extra cupcakes just in case anyone else in the class might see him with them or ask about it, since just giving sweet treats to you and Butters and no one else would look extremely suspicious. The red liners were to separate the laced cupcakes from the others, so he wouldn’t give them to anyone else unknowingly, and among the colorful liners in the others, no one could see you and your ex getting the same color as nothing but a funny coincidence.

As he closed the box, though, you didn’t make a single movement, still staring at him with the baked good in your hands. “No need to thank me, you know. Aren’t you going to eat it?” He asked, tilting his head to the side slightly.

Your eyes narrowed at him. “You put your dick in this thing, didn’t you?” was the question that came out of your mouth. Red let out an “Ewwwww”.

“NO! Why would you think that?” He gasped, his eyes widening in surprise, like it was an absurd thing to even think about - even though it was definitely something he was capable of doing and everyone knew that. “Who do you think I am, some kind of psychopath?”

“Yes.” Your eyes went from him to the cupcake, turning it around in your hand, analyzing it for any obvious signs of tampering. “Farted on it? Put cum on the whipped cream? Is my mom dead on the filling?”

“No, no and NO! Christ, you do something once and all of a sudden it’s all people ever talk about.” He didn’t actually expect you to start asking so many questions - who questions free food? -, so he hadn’t taken the time to build up an actual excuse. “I just had too much batter and made a few extra to bring to class, can’t a guy just be nice anymore?”

 You waited a little bit more to see if he’d say anything, if he’d give away any evil plans. Unable to figure out anything, you took the leap of faith, getting the cupcake near your mouth and slowly taking a bite of it. The taste that your tongue could pick up - plain vanilla, whipped cream, a little bit of chocolate from the sprinkles on top - was good, but nothing out of the ordinary. Well, you weren’t expecting Cartman to be some kind of superb baker, and there wasn’t anything that struck you as odd, so you continued eating. Seeing this, the girls around you followed suit with eating theirs, since if you couldn’t find anything wrong with it they probably wouldn’t either.

“See? Pretty good, isn’t it? Anyway, I’m gonna go and give the rest away, bye.” He left before you could interrogate him any further.

“What a weirdo”, stated Red. Before you could dwell on the subject more, Wendy warned both of you about the time, and your trio started making your way to class.

༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩♡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚

For the next couple of hours, Butters felt like he was about to die.

His whole body felt hot, to the point where he was building up a slight sweat. During this time of the year and up in the mountains, this concept felt absurd, so when he asked the classmates around him to see if anyone else felt the same way, he was met with confused stares and Kenny putting the back of his hand on Butters’ forehead to check his temperature. He was warm alright, but he could tell this wasn’t a fever because this particular warmth felt more intense in the lower part of his belly, irradiating through his body.

The worst part that came with it, though, was the hard-on. It had popped up about an hour into classes, throbbing like crazy, refusing to go down and urging him to take action. He thought about asking for the hall pass to go to the bathroom and masturbate, but decided against it - because that would mean getting up in front of the whole class and standing there where everyone could see him. At this point, after so long, it all started to feel really painful, so he resorted to just curling onto himself on the chair as best as he could, waiting for the bell to ring so he could leave without drawing too much attention.

All the way across the class, you weren’t faring too well, either - just way better at hiding it. Some strands of your hair were glued to your forehead from the sweat, and you fanned yourself with an old crumbled assignment you found in the bottom of your bag. Under your table where no one could see, you pressed your thighs against each other, rubbing them together as silently as possible to create even the tiniest bit of friction to relieve yourself. As much as you did, it wasn’t nearly enough.

During this whole ordeal, you and Butters would look across the room towards each other regularly - even though you were mad at each other, you were the only person he could think about at a time like this, and vice versa. Every once in a while, your gazes would cross, both with completely panicked stares. Oh what you’d give to know what he was thinking at those times. But then, either you or him would realize the other was staring, and you’d immediately turn to the blackboard and pretend you were staring at it the whole time.

The bell ringing to announce lunchtime couldn’t have come soon enough.

“Alright class, off to lunch, we’ll-” The teacher started her usual speech to send all of you off, but before she could finish, Butters got up from his desk and bolted out of the door in extreme hurry, the speed with which he left being so intense that it knocked his whole desk back as he left and all his belongings scattered to the ground. “- Oh, I guess someone’s really into Taco Tuesday.”

As everyone got up to leave for the canteen, you thought about making a quick detour to the bathroom, maybe you could sneak in a little DJing session in one of the stalls, if you kept your quiet, just enough to get yourself through the rest of the day. Before you could make your way there, however, your girl friends made a whole group around your desk, and you had yourself cornered. If you wanted to leave anywhere, they were absolutely going to follow, so you begrudgingly walked to lunch alongside them, still trying to keep your legs as close to each other as possible. You weren’t sure if you’d even survive the rest of the day at this rate.

You hoped that lunch time and the interactions that came with it could make you distracted unlike the quiet classroom, but you were deprived of that as well. No matter how much you tried to pay attention to the conversations the girls were having around you at the table, the heat in your lower abdomen was too strong to ignore, and your thoughts always went straight back to poundtown at any given chance. More than once you had hands waved and fingers snapped near your face because someone asked you a question and you didn’t realize it. 

Also, having scanned around the room with your eyes more than a couple of times like a turret looking for a target, you couldn’t find Butters anywhere in the canteen. You wanted anything from him, even his angry looks at this point were enough to get you going - your mind got busy drawing up all those detailed scenarios where he pinned you to the table, choked you, slapped your ass, pulled your hair, all that while pounding into you violently and calling you filthy names that you never thought you’d hear from his mouth, but that made sense in your anger. 

But he wasn’t there, and you had honestly started to worry. The way he left class earlier had you wondering, who was he hanging out with that made him leave in such a hurry? Was he with some other girl? You usually trusted Butters a lot, he worshipped the ground you walked on and never gave you any reason to doubt his loyalty, but now that you had broken up, God knows what kind of shenanigans he could be up to. You certainly didn’t want to imagine the worst; not only because of the implication of betrayal on his end and the idea that he could already be loving someone else so soon, but also because it would mean he was getting a bunch of action while you couldn’t even masturbate.

“Earth to (Y/N)!” You were once again thrown out of your train of thought by Wendy Testaburger, snapping her fingers close to your ear to draw your attention once more. 

“Wait, what was it again?”, you answered, looking around with your eyes focused on the peers closest to you. All the other girls at the table were staring back, some with anger in their eyes, some with concern.

“Ugh, nevermind. I’ll text you later, since you’re too good to listen to us today.” She made a dismissing motion with her hand. “The bell’s about to ring. Let’s head back.”

As your whole group got up to leave, you looked around the considerably less crowded cafeteria one more time, hoping to catch your ex lingering around, maybe he just came late for lunch? But unfortunately, he was God knows where still. You were expecting to catch some sights of him in class again, but that was unideal - the setting there was one of silence and concentration, two things that you had no intention of keeping up with.

You didn’t have to wait until then to see him, though. As soon as your group opened the cafeteria doors, he was waiting right on the other side of it, just waiting for you to leave for the hall. Coming up from your side, he pulled on the sleeve of your blouse to draw your attention. “Canitalktoyouplease?” was the sentence that left his mouth, almost too quick and slurred for you to catch.

“Huh?”

You turned to face him and the sight was almost absurd. Butters was usually well kept, his parents weren’t going to let him get out of the house looking less than presentable, but right now he was a whole mess. His hair was all shagged up and he was panting like he had just ran a marathon. The hairs closest to his forehead were wet and some droplets of transparent liquid were around it - could be sweat, the same problem you had, or he might’ve thrown some water on his face to cool himself down (which was also a great idea). He also had his jacket tied to his waist, which was weird considering it wasn’t hot this time of the year and he had been wearing it earlier. Did he spend the whole lunch period running track?

“Can- Can I talk to you, please?” He repeated more slowly this time, gripping your arm tight and making you wince from pain. He wasn’t aware of his own strength right now. Seeing the look on your face, he quickly removed his hand from your arm, but stayed still waiting for your answer.

“She doesn’t wanna talk right now, asshole!” Before you could even say anything, Red yelled out, moving right next to you and locking her arm on yours, to show him that you weren’t alone. “And it’s almost time for class anyway. Fuck off.” 

You loved Red McArthur, you really did. That was one of your best friends right there. You didn’t regret at all having told her everything about your fight with Butters, were extremely grateful for the support she had shown you throughout, and you’d surely be glad for her intervention in any other situation. However, she was the one that should be thankful right now - thankful that the knives in the school cafeteria were dull, otherwise you’d have picked up one and stabbed her on the spot. You and your ex were still in a rift, sure, but he was the person you wanted to talk to the most right now and she was denying you that. Even if unknowingly, she was currently being the ultimate cockblocker, or pussy-blocker?

You took a deep breath, something that the other girls probably took as an attempt to dial down your anger at Butters, but that was in reality so you wouldn’t yell at your best friend in front of everyone else. “It’s alright, Red. Go on without me, we won’t take long.” You spoke as calmly as you could, waving them away with your hand and taking your arm away from hers.

As soon as you did so, Butters took you by the wrist and started to power walk in a completely different direction from everyone else, and you had a hard time matching his footsteps while trying not to bump into the groups of students everywhere. You wondered where the hell he was even taking you in such a hurry. For a while, he also seemed confused - he looked towards every door as you went, as if searching for something himself -, but then he made a decision, taking you up two sets of stairs to the third floor of the school building, where he surprised you again by pulling you inside the handicapped restroom.

Unlike the other toilets in the school, the ones reserved for handicapped people were single-user, and since there weren’t many disabled students that were willing to go all the way to the third floor to pee, this one was actually always seen to be in great condition. It was quite spacious to make it easy to maneuver wheelchairs, and also away from many of the actual occupied classrooms. Whatever it was that Butters wanted to discuss with you, he clearly didn’t want anyone else listening.

While he turned to lock the door, you took a few small steps towards the other side of the restroom, standing in the middle of it. You crossed your arms and straightened your posture, trying to look as stiff and unsympathetic as possible. Maybe it was overkill, you had agreed to be here so that already sent the message that you were at least willing to listen, but you didn’t want him to think for a second that he still had your heart on a chokehold like he did.

He took a deep breath as he turned to face you, as if trying to collect his thoughts. “Look, I know you’re mad at me and I’m mad at you and you prolly don’t wanna see me none, but I have no one else to turn to! I need your help!” He blurted out, his arms in front of him like he was ready to push you back if you were to become aggressive.

You frowned. “YOU need MY help? With what?” 

“I… I can’t say it, okay?” He was fighting with his thoughts now, knowing that he’d need to speak up, but couldn’t bring himself to. “It’s a heck of a thing and I can’t really explain it and I don’t even know if it can be explained-”

“Stop with the rambling!” You stomped your foot on the ground to alert him. “Either you tell me what this is about or I’m leaving!”

At this moment, he averted his eyes to the ground, avoiding your gaze as if that would conceal his feelings of absolute shame. His hands moved to his waist, untying his jacket and letting it fall to the floor, and the reason why he wasn’t wearing it immediately became clear - he had a noticeable tent in the front of his pants, which the sleeves of the jacket previously hung in front of, covering the view. 

As soon as you saw, it took you every little bit of restraint you had not to immediately drop to your knees, free his dick of its confinements and take it in your mouth to suck him dry. You felt your saliva building up, ready to make it as sloppy as possible too. But it would mean a complete lack of self-respect on your part to give in without at least him properly asking for it (you could faintly hear the voice of Red in your head scolding you for that), and you also needed to negotiate your own release, so you just swallowed it all back and waited as he built up the courage to continue talking.

“I tried jacking off in the stalls, watching porn on my phone, heck, even meditating to make it go away… It’s not enough. Nothing is. I NEED YOU.” He grabbed both your wrists with his hands and stared deep into your eyes as he pleaded. “I’ll do anything you want if you help me. If you never wanna see me again, I’ll leave! Forever! Just please help me! I can’t stand this anymore!”

You were far from wanting him to leave forever, not when he begged like this, looking like a hungry lost puppy. The poor man was so overwhelmed by his own arousal that he couldn’t notice the fact that you had taken a few steps towards him to close the distance between you instead of widening it. “Anything?” You murmured, to which he nodded vigorously. 

You wriggled your wrists out of his hold and took his hand in yours, guiding it towards your crotch. Your other hand quickly opened the buttons and zipper in your pants, and you pulled it down just a little, just barely halfway down your butt. The wetness between your legs had created a damp spot in your panties, and when you guided Butters’ hand to feel it, the mere brush of his hand over your extremely sensitive area was enough to make your breath hitch even through the fabric. He noticed it immediately, and you saw his eyes widen. “I believe we can help each other.”

He needed no more explanation, maybe due to fear that talking any longer would make you change your mind. So he quickly clashed his mouth onto yours, needy and desperate, wrapping both his arms around you with unusual strength - whatever it is that was driving him mad was also making him act differently than what you’re used to, but you were here for it. As you kissed him back, you felt his usually soft lips to be slightly raw - he had probably been biting them in his anxiety earlier. You didn’t have a second to dwell on it, though, because his tongue swiftly started to brush over yours, an invitation for a dance that you gladly accepted.

Still completely glued to your mouth, Butters started to take small steps, which made you walk backwards, all the way to the other side of the restroom. As your back touched the wall, you felt one of the horizontal metal grab rails under you. You shifted so more of your ass was on top of it, not completely seated (the bar was too narrow for it), but just giving you the extra support in case you needed it. The current position had you firm on your right foot, while the other hovered slightly above ground. Your legs being more open also allowed for Butters to get even closer with his hips, his erection so close to your pussy, separated only by the clothes you both wore.

In one swift motion, Butters hiked up both your blouse and your bra, not even caring about the back clasps, taking everything off and exposing your breasts to the slightly cold air of the restroom as well as to his hungry gaze. The latter wasn’t true for much long, though - he closed his eyes and dove immediately with his mouth to your left nipple, sucking on it and flicking the hardened bud with the tip of his tongue, while his right hand took care of the other breast, massaging it softly. Your nipples were already sensitive by nature, but right now they felt connected to all other nerves in your body, and the stimulation had you whimpering in pleasure.

Your lover started to alternate between one breast and the other with his mouth, giving both the same amount of love and attention - wherever his mouth wasn’t, one of his hands was sure to be, kneading the soft flesh and flicking your peaks slightly. The other hand would then be running around your chest, arms and belly, feeling your soft skin and making up for lost time. 

On your end, one of your hands grabbed hard on the metal rail below you, even if that wouldn’t do you much to make you stable. The other ran through Butters’ hair, caressing it - a type of caring behavior that almost felt out of place considering the borderline sinful thoughts you had all day and the situation you found yourself in right now, but that was doing wonders for him, since it made him even more eager to keep loving on your tits.

You could also feel his hips rutting towards plain air near you, as he tried to satiate his throbbing dick even a little bit. Not wanting to deny him any part of this experience when he was treating you so right, you moved one of your legs closer to him, putting your knee between his legs and allowing him to grind on your thigh. He took the offer immediately and responded by growling against your breast and sending some more shivers through your body with the vibrations.

The new stimulus had Butters going wild. He was getting more feral with his treatment of your body - taking your nipples between his fingers, tugging at them and twisting slightly. He started to graze your bud with his teeth, which soon turned into full-on love bites all across your nipples and breasts, the red patches not looking so jarring now that your whole skin was so flushed, but they’d certainly be a nice keepsake later.

When you started to feel that familiar tension in your muscles, the pleasure in your nipples spreading like a flame under your skin, it came as a surprise. You hadn’t ever climaxed from just him working your nipples before - hell, was that even possible? -, and it had sneaked up on you, first feeling like if lightning was gentle, an electric tingle all over your body that sparked like fireworks. Then there was no denying the well-known wave of pleasure that hit you like a tsunami, crashing your whole world around you and making your knees buckle. 

Sensing your loss of balance in front of him, Butters quickly let go of your breasts and wrapped his arms around your waist. You wouldn’t have fallen either way, catching yourself in the metal bar behind you with a firm grip, but the consideration was appreciated. As he looked at you with a worried expression and breathing through his mouth anxiously, you felt the walls of your pussy spasming again and more slick dripping in your panties. 

“You okay?” His eyes ran through your body, looking for anything that might be wrong, and coming up short. You were absolutely perfect as always.

“More than.” You purred with a smile, giving him a brief kiss. When your mouths parted ways, he tilted his head closer to yours ever so slightly, almost as if chasing your lips with his. Savoring his yearning, you pucker up your lips and make a kissing sound, before tugging at his shirt. “You’re gonna kill me like this though. Just let me feel you already.”

It was his time to smile. “Okay, honey”, he hummed, fixing his posture - and you closed your eyes happily, not having noted how much you missed him calling you pet names until now. He locked mouths with you again and his hands drifted down between you two, pulling further down the hem of your jeans and tracing your slit through the soaked panties, earning from you a sharp moan.

His mouth left yours so he could focus on ridding you of the rest of your outfit, and you held down on the grab rail with your other hand as he lifted your legs – first one, then the other so you could keep stability - to remove your shoes, pants and undergarments completely. You would’ve helped him to make the job quicker, but he seemed to be enjoying the ride now that he had you back in his embrace. Once he had fully taken everything off, he planted a quick kiss on the inside of your lifted thigh, making you shudder.

Slowly and carefully letting go of your leg, Butters took another look at your full body as you stood there naked for him. He wanted to kiss every inch of you, show you as much of his love as possible, but there was also this overpowering lust. Not wanting to spend another second more not touching you, he made quick work of his own pants and boxers while you grabbed onto his shirt and pulled it over his head, throwing it somewhere and allowing his bare chest to touch yours. You were both drenched in sweat at this point, and your naked bodies basically glued together like that, but in the haze none of that mattered.

Butters lifted your left leg up again and held your thigh firmly against his hip with his right arm, while his other hand stroked his shaft slowly as he moved to position it against your entrance. You felt your cunt clench tight as the head of his cock breached your folds, and you were sure he could feel it too, as his breath hitched and his eyes fluttered when you tried to look at them. “Need me that bad, huh?”, he murmured, giving you a kiss on the cheek. “I need you too, honey. Can’t be without you no more.”

With that, he thrusted into you in one swift motion - your surreal wetness making it easy for him to bottom out several inches deep inside of you, the familiar sting you felt as he stretched you being eased by how aroused you already were. The both of you moaned almost in unison at this very welcomed sensation, and in a moment of pseudo-clarity you remembered that you couldn’t be loud like this, a realization that did not seem to grace Butters as he started to push out and back into you with more fully open-mouthed moans. You quickly put one of your hands in the back of his head and push it towards the crook of your neck, where he starts to place quick but strong suckles and bites, not caring for - actually downright wanting - the marks they’d leave.

“Shh, honey” You whispered with the softest of voices, not wanting him to get discouraged, but still needing to give him a reminder. “Can’t get loud in here or they’ll catch us. Just do this for me, okay?” 

It was hard for you to heed your own warning, though - with each quick and hard slam of his hips, plus his assault on your neck, you wanted nothing more than to have him hear just how good he was doing. You settle for biting your own lip and keeping your moans in your mouth, which to him seemed to sound even hotter - as he sped up the pace of his thrusts with newfound energy, getting high on the sound of your muffled whimpers and the wet sound of his dick plunging inside your weeping cunt.

The force with which his hips struck your body had you sliding up and down against the wall, your tits bouncing with the movement. His hot breath on your neck made the fine hairs on your whole body stand up, and your back arched, which made him hit that sweet spot inside of you even more perfectly now. Needing to be closer, closer, you let your hands go from the grab rails where they had settled before and wrap your arms around Butters’ neck, relying on him like your last connection to the Earth now. You were glad he had enough strength to hold you with just the lower half of your body pinned to the cold bathroom tiles while still jackhammering into you.

As Butters raised his head from your neck to take a brief look at you through his half-lidded eyes, he used a lot of self-restraint to not cum on the spot. You were a whole mess: disheveled hair, face moist with sweat, a soft reddish tint spread through your whole body, but more prominent on your cheeks, nose, and breasts. You weren’t staring back at him, eyes tight shut as the feeling of his cock inside of you distracted you from using any of your other senses. He wanted to kiss your rosy puffy lips again, but wouldn’t risk disturbing the pretty noises that came out of your throat as you tried so hard to not let out the loud moans you wanted to. “Yeah, that’s it, baby... You’re so… good to me...” He laid his head back on the crook of your neck, but didn’t go back to biting - instead, he inhaled deeply, taking all of your scent in, your faint perfume that he loved mixed with your sweat and… a hint of vanilla? “Lemme make you… feel even better…” 

His last sentence slurred into nonsense, but in the blur you barely registered it. You also didn’t even notice how he sneaked his left hand between your bodies, coating his thumb with the splattered juices around your cunt before moving it up and rubbing quick circles in your clit, increasing your pleasure in an almost overwhelming way. You felt a sharp sting in your lip and a metallic taste - in your efforts to not make any noise, you had bitten your lip so hard it broke skin. The pain, however, was quickly overshadowed by Butters’ ministrations, and you slapped one of your hands over your mouth to silence yourself, leaning with your back against the wall again.

It wasn’t like any past fuck you ever had. Everything was heightened; You heard every slap of his skin against yours and all the little sharp breaths both of you took as you tried to avoid being too loud in your pleasure, you could feel every single vein in his cock squeezing through your tight walls, and you saw whole galaxies even through your closed eyes. 

As that coil inside of your belly was getting tighter and tighter, so were your walls against Butters’ cock - and you knew that had to be catching up to him, as he started to lose the pace on his thrusts, and the muscle in his arms and legs seemed to become even more tense. “‘m- I- can’t hold much longer like this, sweets!” It seemed almost impossible for him to get the words out, having to say them through quick breaths as he got close to his release himself. “You’re just… too good…”

Then there was no warning as he let out a loud growl and his hips hit your body with one final deep slam, and you felt his dick pulsating as he filled the deepest part of you with his hot seed. The thumb in his left hand, however, still flicked your clit viciously, and so it didn’t take much longer for you to come undone, your cunt gripping his throbbing dick as the pleasure washed over your body for a second time.

As both of you dissolved into each other’s bodies, you found it in yourself to take his face in your shaky hands and press his lips to yours once more. Unlike your previous kisses of today, though, this moment was much more kind and full of tenderness, feeling exactly like the ones you shared throughout your relationship with him. You both felt loved and cared for, and while that rough fuck session took care of the needs of your physical bodies, the kiss took care of your souls.

You only dared part your mouths this time when it became necessary to breathe, and both of you sported soft smiles after you did, tired, but happy. You started using one of your hands to brush back through your fingers the multiple small strands of hair glued to his forehead, while the other caressed his cheek. He leaned into your touch, resting his hands on your waist. His dick was softening, but he didn’t feel keen on pulling out just yet, relishing the closeness of your bodies like this.

“I love you, Leo.” You finally broke the ice after a couple of minutes like this, giving him a peck on the forehead, to draw his attention back to Earth.

“Geez, by now I sure hope so!” You couldn’t help but giggle at his ever present sincerity. “I love you too, (Y/N).”

As you smiled and took note of your actual environment for the first time in a while, an idea came to mind. “Wanna get away from here?” You already knew what his answer would be to this offer, but you wanted to make your intentions clear nonetheless. “We can find someplace else where we can make some real noise.”

༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩♡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚

You and Butters didn’t come back for the rest of classes, and nobody in school had an answer to where you were, either. All texts sent to you or him went unanswered for that day, and your friends had no idea what happened.

What they could certainly say they saw, though, was the pair of you arriving at school together the next morning with a pep in both your steps, chatting away and smiling as you held hands. Everyone was left speechless, and some even questioned if the last few days had even been real. 

The only person who didn’t seem confused was Eric Cartman, his nonchalant behavior earning him plenty of questioning from the other dudes the following days, but he refused to admit to anything. And why would he, anyway? You and his friend were back together, happy as could be, the sun was up in the sky, everything was right. And, if it ever stopped being that way, he had a certain tiny bottle in the back of his wardrobe to sort things out again.

Dividers by @cafekitsune

[featheredclover]

September Rain

Chapter Twelve

Read from the beginning

Also on Wattpad

Chapter Eleven>> <<Chapter Thirteen

Tapping her foot impatiently, Khushi leaned against the pillar. The line did not seem to be moving any faster. She had the strongest urge to scream her frustration. But mornings made her groggy, so she decided to just tap her foot a mile a minute.

“Morning Gupta”

She turned around, squinting as she saw Dhruv all fresh and ready to start the day. A bright smile rivalling the sun was plastered across his face. But today, Khushi couldn’t bring herself to be her usual polite self.

“Morning Iyer”, she grumbled.

He let out an amused chuckle. 

“Why so charming today?”

“You would understand , had you been waiting in line for thirty minutes”

She ran her hand through her hair,in an exaggerated expression of exhaustion.

“Is that so?” He caught her by her elbow.

“What are you doing?”

He shrugged, “Showing you the perks of being a sub captain”

Khushi gasped, as Dhruv marched up to the front of the line with her in tow.

She felt all her morning blues disappear as she flushed under the gaze of at least twenty other students.

“Good morning, Clara ma’am”

“Good morning, Dhruv”, the matronly lady smiled fondly.

“Me and my friend are in a bit of a hurry today, so I was hoping you could cut us some slack”, with a tilt of his head, he gestured towards the ever increasing line.

“Of course!”

And with that Khushi found herself sitting with Dhruv eating her toast and eggs on the best table in the Green house mess.

“I am impressed”, she smiled as she took a sip of her milk.

“How little it takes to impress you” Dhruv said with a sardonic smile.

She felt stumped for a moment. Shaking her head, she pressed on.

“I have been a subject of many cool glares this morning”

“Oh please”, he waved a careless hand.

“With the amount of work I put into being elected, it would be a crime to not let my friends enjoy the perks”

She smiled her thanks, and went right back into attacking her toast.

“I’ll be throwing an after party on Saturday. I have already invited your friends.”

“After party?”, she frowned.

“The match? Green vs Red? I am hurt that you forgot”

Dhruv leaned back on his chair, his eyes seemingly scrutinising her every move.

“Oh. That’s nice” 

“You clearly have something more to say Khushi. Go on”, he urged.

“It’s a little…..a little premature to declare an after party before winning, isn’t it?”

To her surprise, Dhruv burst out laughing. 

Shaking his head, “Oh, Khushi! Such little faith in your own team. Or is it that you have too much faith in the other team?”

“I was just…”

“All I want from you is to wear something green and cheer us on. We know how to win”

Khushi pressed her lips together in a thin line.

“I wasn’t doubting our team, Dhruv. I am just used to the after party being planned after the win”

“There’s no need to do that in this match. They are not in form. Hell, their best player can’t match up to our substitutes!”

She froze, tension bunching up in her shoulders.

“You know that don’t you? Raizada, the so-called ‘Flash’ is no match to us. Let’s see if he is able to lose with dignity”

Khushi clutched her fork so tight, her fingers had paled. She felt pure fury at the way Dhruv spoke about Arnav. The confidence she had so admired in him, had morphed into the worst arrogance overnight.

“-and don’t get me started on Mathur! My ten year old cousin can beat him to a goal!”

“They are my friends Dhruv”, her voice rigid with disappointment.

“You are not really being the sportsman you have always been”

“Khushi”, he shook his head with a smile, “Being a sportsman is one thing, but understanding how weak your opponent is, is just as-“

“I care for my house, that’s why I am telling you this”, she cut him off.

“You shouldn’t underestimate your opponents, neither should you insult them”

She picked up her bag and stood up, “I’ll see you on Saturday”

—————

“Shut up!” Mona stood akimbo.

 

They sat under the banyan tree, tucked away in a cosy corner of their campus. Khushi had dragged them here as soon as the bell for recess rang, ignoring all their annoyance. She had to get it out of her chest today, and so she did!

“I am so happy for you Khushi!” Preeto hugged her tight for a moment before dropping her back on the rock.

“I can’t believe he kissed you after you fought! And that too on the terrace!”

She blushed, looking around helplessly.

“It happened, okay? We didn’t plan it”

Mona scoffed, “Knowing Raizada, I know you didn’t plan it. But I can’t believe you were jealous of Lavanya just a few days ago”

“Hey! Yes, I was jealous. But who wouldn’t be?”

Preeto smiled, “I have no complaints about your jealousy! After all, that’s what gave you the courage to lash out at him”

“And gave him an excuse to kiss you”, Mona said with a smirk.

“Can you stop focusing on the goddamn kiss?”

“Uh-uh! Give us details. Come on, rate Raizada on scale of ten”

Preeto giggled, “ If you don’t stop right now, I think she will combust in flames! Anyway, Khush…we are really happy for you two. Childhood sweethearts….I can already imagine the bridesmaid speech I’ll give”

“Jane Austen was right! A lady’s imagination is very rapid;it jumps from admiration to love, from love to matrimony in a moment”, Khushi rolled her eyes.

“I don’t know this Austen lady, but I agree. Get out of your dreamland Preeto! These idiots are only fifteen”

“You are such a cynic, Mona. I spy a wedding in ten years!”

“I spy you not getting invited to the said wedding!”, Khushi teased and was rewarded with a hit on her head.

———

Loud footsteps flooded their ears, before the door swung open.

“You are back early”, Mona commented, not bothering to look up from her books.

“Why are you so breathless Preets?” Khushi asked, a concerned frown blooming between her brows.

“I got kissed! And Arnav is planning to scale the walls tonight!”

“WHAT?!” 

“NK finally came to his senses!” Mona jumped.

“No no no! Okay, I am positively out of breath now”

“Sit down”, Khushi handed her a glass of water, exchanging a quick look of shock with Mona.

“I was in the stables, with the horses. I was actually cleaning the saddles. And Farhan arrived. Out of nowhere!”

Khushi sat down, her mouth agape.

“We talked. He talked about the game. Then he said he felt he scored the last goal because he saw me in the audience. He said something about me being a lucky charm. Then he… he pulled me towards him and he…he…”

“Stuck a tongue down your throat?” Mona supplied helpfully.

Preeto sat wide eyed, not commenting on Mona’s atrocious choice of words. That’s when the two knew their friend was a goner.

“Do you like him, Preeto?”

“I think I do? I mean I have known NK since forever, so I didn’t even look at anyone. But Farhan is..he is.. so nice. Yes. Yes,I like him”

Mona smiled, clutching her hands.

“Then what are you thinking about? Farhan is a great guy! Whatever one side crush you had on NK was over long before. You just had to meet the right guy”

“He asked me to be his girlfriend! I am so confused” 

Preeto paced around. The fan and evening breeze doing nothing to cool her nerves.

“How was the kiss?” Khushi asked cheekily.

Preetika bit her lip, “I guess I’ll be his girlfriend then”

Mona whooshed out a heart “Yes!”, as Khushi hugged her friend. 

“Wait, what were you saying about Arnav scaling the wall tonight?!”

“Oh ya! He wants to talk to you. So he is going to come in through the balcony facing the gardens. The wardens never go there-“

“What?! Why can’t he ask me to meet normally like a normal person?”

“I guess that’s because he is not normal, Juliet”, Mona laughed.

“How typical of Arnav! Is he going to bring a guitar to serenade you? Ooh! Or is he going to ask you to let down your hair just like Rapunzel?”

“This isn’t funny, Mona”, she rolled her eyes, “What if he gets caught?”

“Live a little Khush” Preeto said, her eyes faraway with a dreamy look in them.

“Oh god! How will I live with two love struck heroines?” Mona said, before dodging the twin pillows launched at her.

————

The clock struck twelve, as Khushi tiptoed out of the dorm and into the balcony. It was quite an old, rusty place. Maybe that’s why ,left unsupervised. She didn’t even know how Arnav knew about it! 

A whistle!

She peered down to see him,dressed in a white tee shirt and black jeans. Her heart thudded violently, as she saw him grasp at bricks and climb up. She felt cold all over, as he finally grasped the balcony railing and leaped up.

Letting out a breath, he whispered, “Easier that it looks!”

Grabbing his collar, in a move which surprised not just him, she angrily whispered,

“How dare you put yourself at risk for this Arnav? How dare you? Why couldn’t we meet at the stairs or anywhere else!”

“Khush”, his hands settled over her own, his eyes widening as he realised she was in shivers.

“I am sorry. I am really sorry, Khushi. But Bakshi declared that till Saturday, we were going to be only on the football ground, I knew I had to come tonight. We even got a special permission to miss classes”

“Two days!”, she hit him lightly on his shoulder, “You couldn’t wait two days before meeting me?”

He scoffed, “No! I couldn’t!”

She stood, her arms crossed staring at him. God was being really unfair! How could she resist him, when he stood there under the full moon.

Taking the two steps to reach him, Khushi stepped into his arms.

Sighing as he engulfed her further into him, she mumbled, “Mona was right. We are idiots”

“That we are”, he said with a hint of a smile in his voice.

Pulling back,Arnav  pushed her hair away from her face.

“I have big day on Saturday”

“I know” she whispered back, her eyes feasting on his lips.

“Khush…” he moaned before tilting her head back.

She was set ablaze, the cold air nipping at her skin, even as Arnav took her lips in a hard kiss.

He closed his eyes, almost painfully.

“I want to ask something of you”

“Go on” she smiled, ready to give him the moon.

“Support me. On Saturday”

She stilled, her hands crumbling his shirt beneath them.

“Arnav, it’s my house. I can’t just”

“Please…I know you can’t….but can you do something..something “

“Arnav”, her heart broke at the desperation in his eyes, “What is this about? You have played so many matches before. Why-“

“It’s important for me to win this time, Khush. And if you..you show me you are with me”, he sighed.

“Sorry”, he looked away, “ I am mad right now. I just wanted to…”

“Arnav”, she pulled him back to her.

He still wouldn’t meet her eyes.

“It’s late, Khushi. I have kept you out long enough. Go back to sleep” 

With a kiss on her forehead, he left, fading away in the darkness.

She stood in two minds. She couldn’t betray her house and yet she couldn’t not give Arnav what he had asked of her. Her dilemma didn’t seem to settle even as dawn broke into Nainital.

Tagging: @hand-picked-star @phuljari @msbhagirathi @thenainitaldisaster @thedupattaknowswhatsup @jalebi-weds-bluetooth @barshifan @andli @shiyaravi @chutkiandchotte @laad-governess @minpdnim @bigfatreader @arshiradio @simplycurlz @scorpio-smiles @bengudill @exosexosekai @0218fm @atomicmentalitytruimph

————

Next chapter>>

Let me know if you want to be added or removed from the tag list!

[newkatzkafe2023]

@lara-legomonkiekid

What if Y/N was like bugs bunny.

Oh boy We're going to drive them nuts😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

(Lmk Wukong) He can only admire you for standing on your own. He remember getting on your bad side once and god that was pure hell. He was pretty arrogant back in the day. When you guys met first you were all like what's up peaches. And then he was like i'm going on a journey With my master. And you said oh can I come. And he was like and why should you? We don't need somebody like you on the journey. You normally try to avoid confrontation but then you said to yourself. I hope you know That this means war. And Boy, did he suffer a montage of confusion and humiliation? That's when he learned not to effort you like that. But over the years you 2 learn to put aside. Your differences and soon became friends and later on. You started a relationship and later even that later on you all got married. All he wishes was that no one would ever Know the truth of your first meeting but I think is too late for that.

(MK Reborn) You make him wanna pull his fur right out of his skin. You drive him insane. When you're not taunting him tricking him into doing what you want. You're sometimes flirt with him and he is him because You have a crush on him. His face would be red with pure fury and he is sick Of your tricks and disguises. But one One day somebody provoked you and You said I hope you know that this means war. And because of that you haven't been paying attention to him whatsoever. No no he hated that The only one who can mess with you Is him. So after laying waste To the demon that messed with you. We grabbed you by your arms and snarled at your face. Saying that you belong to him and that he is the only one You can mess with all you want and That you are his. You were cool with that you this was your plan all along anyway.

(NR Wukong) This guy was zany and that's what you like. All your tricks on him and disguis is and humiliation tactics. We're all steps performing a bond with him. He's another You caused to go mildly insane. But I think that guy is crazy already so you guys match. He loves to flirt with you on the daily. Whenever you guys meet and you have an old problem flirting with him back. He just wishes that you don't cause him to get shot a lot. Considering you always go with the whole rabbit season monkey season bit. Overall you guys are a lovely pair of crackheads.

(HIB Wukong) You drive him crazy as well. He tried everything to get rid of you. But you just keep coming back like a boomerang. He's pretty sure you're more Clingy then Liuer. You cause them so much stress with your antics. And you're hey what's up peaches and finally your unusual affection you have towards him. You literally popped out of Liuer's Basket just To lend a kiss on him. He's still wondering how the hell you did that to this day. But overall you soon grew on the grumpy monkey and he actually starts to expect to see you at least once today. It's not like his life was normal in the first place, but this is getting ridiculous.

(Netflix Wukong) Man he is easy to mess with. Especially with how condescending he was to you when your first met. You didn't want to go out on a full war. But you still needed to give him a bit of a reality check. So after a few disguises, some tricks and finally. Make shift bomb you made from him. He was finally forced to admit defeat to you and that's how He became your daffy. Of popping by just to see what he's doing And maybe mess with him a little And tease him. But despite all that you two were really close And you actually hate how other people treat him when he's just trying to fit in and stuff. And you can see why he's so obsessed with being a hero to his village and whatever. You often give your own kind of revenge for those that mess with your daffy monkey boy. So when When he gets released from his mountain imagine the first person he sees is you. What's up peaches???

FEEL FREE TO REBLOG

[sleepyfan-blog]

Ruin

Author’s Note: Deimos part three! I hope you enjoy :D first. Previous

Tagged: @egrets-not-regrets @kit-williams @bleedingichorhearts @the-pure-angel@whorety-k 

Warnings: threatening, blackmail, Alpha Legion Shenanigans

Summary: Deimos speaks to one of the human representatives during the negotiations. He gets what he wants. 

Deimos had been watching the negotiations between some of the leaders of the most powerful Astartes pods speaking with representatives of the human countries of Terra for the past several days. At the end of each day. Deimos would send coded information as to how things had been going to his handler, and waiting to see if his instructions would change based on the information that he had gathered.

He also spent time pretend-obliviously making one of the human representatives squirm and sweat each time they saw the face or heard the voice of the Blood Angel Sergeant he was pretending to be, as Representative Pearson was part of a least two different human organizations who had successfully captured different Astartes in order to dissect and experiment upon them… And because the sergeant he was pretending to be had recently been captured by one of Pearson’s groups using information that the human had himself given them. 

The Alpha Legion had been content to let their cousins flounder in confusion as to what was happening to some of their legions/chapters. If they weren’t aware enough of the dangers that baseline humanity could be to them, that wasn’t their problem… That had been until one of these groups had captured a hybrid hydra pup, the first Alpha legionnaire born on Ancient Terra to a converted human mate and stolen a week ago.

That was the last mistake any of these groups would make, not that those who were outside of those facilities were aware of the storm that had swallowed most of their resources in righteous fury. All captive astartes were being tended to by Alpha Legion Apothecaries and would be released after the conclusion of these negotiations. Deimos glided gracefully after Representative Pearson, who had finally worked up the courage to ask for a private meeting between himself and the baseline human.

“What is it that you wanted to speak with me about?” Deimos asked, using the lilting tones of the Blood Angel he was pretending to be, amused at the way that the baseline human froze, blinking off the siren-like qualities a moment later.

“You are an imposter. You should leave quietly, or I will escalate the matter to security.” Pearson accused, pointing his finger dramatically at Deimos.

The Alpha Legionnaire almost broke character and started to cackle. If this was the way that Pearson wanted to play things, Deimos was happy to indulge him. “And just why do you think I am an imposter? What proof could you possibly have?”

“Because I received a report earlier this week about a mer matching  your precise description being badly injured and brought to a medical facility for treatment. I have heard of the incredible healing factors you astartes possess, but the injuries that Astartes had suffered could not have healed as fully as you appear to be in such short period of time. Which means you are an imposter and should leave these negotiations.” Pearson explained, radiating smug satisfaction.

Deimos’ couldn’t help the small, fanged grin that appeared on his face as he purred “And?”

“And if you do not leave immediately I will alert security as to you being here under false circumstances and -” The baseline human blustered.

Deimos interrupted Pearson’s rant with a laugh “What makes you think that I have no right to be here? Especially since you were the one to leak the battle brother’s whose face I am borrowing’s location to the butchers and kidnappers who tormented him… Ah, but he is no longer in their grasp. None of the astartes that the little groups you work with are still captive. My brothers have rescued them all. Your little groups of maniacs fear that we astartes will try and take dominance of this world from you. Because of our strength and our abilities. But you're wrong. If we wanted dominion over this world we would have it already and none of the weapons nor all your military might would be enough to stop us.”

“I.. You accuse me of-” Pearson started, huffing up in indignation and distilled terror.

The Alpha legionnaire interrupted the baseline human again as he pulled out a series of pictures proving that Person was knowingly and willingly involved several of the Astartes kidnapping groups, setting them down on the table between them as he spoke “Drop the pretenses. I have more evidence of your crimes and wrongdoing on me, and there are copies in case you attempt to destroy this evidence.” Deimos was one piece of the Hydra. His legion worked in the shadows and gathered information. They knew all and saw all. “Step down from your position now, and publicly resign in front of the press at this event and explain your crimes and your true loyalties… If you refuse I’ll tell the World Eater and Black Templar representatives who you truly work with.”

“... If you do that, those blood-thirsty monster swill try-” The human protested.

“Will kill you for your crimes. Of course. That would be a mercy. Some of the pods represented here would make your death a long and agonizing spectacle. World Eaters and Black Templars both tend to make their kills swift.” Deimos rumbled, cutting off the human yet again and smirking down at him.

“How dare you threaten and attempt to blackmail me like this? Photos like this can be altered to seem incriminating!” Pearson blustered, fear and fury radiating off of him in waves.

“There are ways to check for tampering. Besides, these photos are the least of the proof I have for your crimes. Do as I say, or you will die by the end of this day. This is not a threat but a promise. Besides, you won’t be the only wretched mortal to die for your crimes today if you refuse to step down.” Deimos hummed, pulling out a small laptop, opening the video conference software and calling out “Alpharius, I have the human representative with me.”

“Well done Alpharius.” His captain praised, swimming into frame with two of the other leaders of the organizations being dragged into frame with him. Behind the older Alpha Legionnaire were dozens of gagged and bound hand to foot humans, all members of the kidnapping organizations in the room the captain was in. “You see, we have many of those involved in the kidnappings who still yet live. You have a simple choice, Representative Pearson. Confess your crime sin front of the cameras and our fellow astartes, and submit yourself for judgment…. Or you and all of the humans here will die.”

“I… You… How… How have you done this?” Pearson asks, helpless rage and terror wafting off of him in waves.

“We are Alpharius. We are the Hydra at the heart of everything. No detail is too small to escape our grasp. Our eyes see all, as our ears hear all. If we wanted to control this world, we’d have it already. So,  representative, what is your choice?” The captain purred, smirking.

“I… I’ll…” Pearson swallows, staring at the other humans bound and at the mercy of astartes. He hangs his head and growls out “I’ll do as you’ve demanded of me, you bastards. Damn you all to hell!”

“Been there. Got bored. Came back.” Deimos cooed, smirking. “No time like the present, let’s go. Be seeing you, captain Alpharius.” with that he shut the laptop and placed it in a pouch before scruffing the unhappy human by the collar and dragging him bodily out of the chair, swimming out of the room and over to where the press were gathered. He knew that the other Astartes would be able to hear Pearson’s confession… This was going to be fun.

~

Five minutes later found Pearson standing on his own two feet, Deimos staying just close enough to encourage the human to speak without tipping off the press of just what the human was going to confess to.

“I… have… I have a confession to make. I have been working with a secret group of scientists, doctors and hunters to capture and study Astartes. I am well aware of the fact that these kidnappings have made Human-Astartes relations worse the world over… The organization’s goals were to assess the threat posed by Astartes, as well as to try and figure out the keys to their longevity and high healing factor. To be able to synthesize either of those abilities for humanity to use. We also hoped to be able to take apart Astartes’ technology and reverse engineer it for profit.” Pearson confessed, having hid his hands behind his back, to hide the way they trembled “I have realized now that this was wrong, and am stepping down from my position as representative, and submit myself to the justice system of my home country.”

Deimos had expected that Pearson would try to pull something like that. It was almost cute that he thought he was living past this next hour as a free person, and that he would be allowed to be tried by one of the human legal systems. Already the Alpha legionnaire could hear furious shouting from loyalists, chaos and renegade astartes. He could smell their rapid approach to this conference room, the scent of their fury and determination heavy in the air as they barrelled into the room.

All of them stopped dead, seeing Deimos in the guise of a Blood Angel as he stood directly behind the violently shaking and terrified human. Before any of them could try and demand something he said on external vox “As Pearson has wronged the Astartes more, his request for being tried by humanity is rejected. I will be taking him to where he will be tried and punished for his crimes.”

The assembled humans burst into dozens and dozens of loud statements and noises, each desperately trying to get his or the other astartes attention. Not that Deimos was actively listening to what they were saying, just making sure that they weren’t trying to get close enough to grab Pearson and attempt to get away from him.

He waited a beat before broadcasting his voice to the voxes of his fellow astartes alone, his eyes deliberately flashing teal as he purred “Hydra Dominatus.” Before he scooped up Pearson and swum off at his top speed, cackling to himself as the human in his arms whimpered and shook.

[bella-rose29]

Arranged Marriages - Epilogue

As promised :)

Also two parts in one day? Look at me go

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: swearing, a very tiny mention of death (Dominik), but other than that this is pure fluff and love (although I'm realising as I write it that the beginning does not give that impression lol)

Tag list: @kentucky-criedfricken, @hauntedenthusiasttragedy, @kateswone, @simbaaas-stuff, @polli05927, @historianthesecond, @ell0ra-br3kk3r

(Look at how pretty he is I love him)

"NIKOLAI LANTSOV, WHERE ARE YOU?"

He was hiding in a cupboard, trying not to give away his location.

Genya was mad at him, and he was fearing for his life right now. Although it was hardly his fault, since he and Y/N had both made the decision to wait to share the news, but the Tailor wasn't mad at his wife, which Nikolai thought was incredibly unfair. Bright light suddenly appeared, forcing him to shut his eyes, squinting against the sun now streaming in through the open door.

Shit.

"Found you, you little fucker," she grinned, although her smile was more reminiscent of a shark than anything else. David stood awkwardly behind her, and Nikolai guessed that he'd been dragged around by his wife in her quest for vengeance.

"How, in the name of all the Saints, could you not tell me that Y/N is pregnant?! Do you have any idea how long I'm going to need to plan the events?! To decide on every detail?! By the time I'm ready for a baby shower, your child will be thirty years old!" With each emphasised word, she whacked him in the chest, and when she was done Nikolai pressed a hand to the spot, rubbing over where he was sure a bruise would form.

"We decided we would wait until we were sure! Figured it would be worse if we got everybody's hopes up only for it to end up not happening! Please stop hitting me!" Genya sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Fine! Fine, but I'm expecting to be in charge of everything, alright? And I want my name in there somehow."

"What if it's a boy?"

"Then use David's name." At the mention of his name, he looked up, bewildered look on his face. Seeing Genya's expression, he nodded in agreement (although Nikolai suspected that the man had very little idea what he was agreeing to).

"Of course, my love."

The doors to the room banged open as Zoya swept in, fury on her face.

Here we go again, he thought tiredly.

"She's pregnant?! Why did neither of you tell me?! I'm her best friend and your most trusted General! So why am I finding out from some random healer that you're expecting a baby?!"

"Would everybody please stop hitting me!" Zoya had been doing the same as Genya, and had managed to pinpoint the exact same spot when she smacked him. He sighed. "Look. We're both very sorry that we didn't tell you sooner, but as I said to Genya, we didn't want to get anybody's hopes up. We wanted to be sure about it first, and then tell people. Besides, we also wanted a little time just to ourselves; you know what people are like here, once they find something like this out, the baby isn't really ours, it's Ravka's."

The women paused, sharing a glance.

"Ugh, fine," Zoya said. "Where is she then, I want to go congratulate her and wish her luck on having two children to deal with."

"But she's only going to have one?"

When Zoya gave him a pointed look, he realised what she meant.

"You mean me, don't you? I'm... I'm the other child. Great, thank you for that, Zoya. Don't you have an army to run instead of making fun of me?"

"Don't you have a country to lead, instead of hiding in a cupboard?"

"She's in the gardens, and I'm not hiding in a cupboard. I am inspecting the interior to see how it was made. I'm planning on trying to make one for myself."

She snorted, turning on her heel and exiting the room. "Whatever you say, Lantsov."

"Well I need to start preparations immediately, and if you don't have a busy schedule - which I know you don't, I checked it before I came to find you - you're going to join me," Genya said, and Nikolai groaned.

"Do I have to?"

"Yes." The was no room for argument in her tone, and quite frankly Nikolai was scared of her right now.

"Alright... lead the way."

She squealed, taking his arm and dragging him out of the cupboard and into the corridor, her grip so tight he thought he might end up one limb fewer. They stopped in Genya's living room, and she forced him down onto a seat while she moved around, collecting various items and bits of paperwork. David perched on a stool next to him, and they shared a knowing look.

"Congratulations, Nikolai," he said in a quiet voice, small smile on his face.

"Thank you, David." They sat in comfortable silence, watching as Genya rushed around, arms full to such an extent Nikolai wasn't sure how she wasn't dropping anything. Dumping it all on the table in front of them, she started organising, and Nikolai realised with a start that Genya had already made mood boards and drawn up ideas for a royal baby, complete with names of specialist Fabrikators (David's name was at the top of the list, circled with love hearts in red ink) for any essentials, fabric samples for clothes and bedsheets, and a colour scheme for every baby related event one could think of.

Nikolai settled in for a long discussion.

He was right that it would take them all day, and the next, and then the following week, since Genya insisted on going over every detail at least three times ("I just want to be certain, this is the first royal baby Ravka's had for years!"), and it was difficult finding a time when both the King and Queen were free. Zoya was getting very involved in the process too, which surprised Nikolai. He'd always assumed that the general would prefer to be as far away from children as possible, but when he saw how attentive she was being to Y/N, he realised that she was concerned for her friend. The two of them were like sisters, having been practically raised together, so it made sense that Zoya wanted to be there for Y/N.

The night before the first of many events that Genya had planned, he and his wife were curled up in bed, lights dimmed ready for them to go to sleep. He was stroking a hand through her hair, fingers untangling knots as he went.

"I love you, Nik," she whispered from her position against his chest.

"I love you too, Y/N."

They were quiet for a while, revelling in the peace.

"Do you think that Genya's gone a bit mad with the whole royal baby thing?" He laughed softly, nodding his head.

"It's entirely possible. Although I have to say, I think two events a week until the baby arrives is far too few, it should be one every night."

"Shhh! She'll hear you!" He laughed again, more loudly this time, and she joined in, giggling.

"Kolya?"

"Hmm?" His eyes were closed, a smile still playing on his lips.

"What should we name it?"

"You decide, my love. You are the one growing our baby," he said. "Although if I think it's a truly awful name, I might have to step in."

She was silent, fingertips tracing patterns on his stomach.

"For a girl... actually, I've got a feeling it'll be a boy."

"What if it is a girl though?"

"Nope. Boy. Saints help me though, I hope he's not too much like you."

"Why do people keep saying that?! I'm perfectly mature and not at all childlike!"

"Says the man that got excited when he saw a ship the other day."

"That wasn't just a ship, alright? It was an original design brigantine from when Ravka first started making ships, and- oh. Oh hang on, I see what you're doing. You're trying to prove your point, aren't you?"

"Not just trying, Kolya, I succeeded," she replied with glee, tapping his nose with a wide smile on her face.

"I see how it is." He narrowed his eyes playfully, then reached out to tickle her sides, making her laugh until tears were falling down her cheeks.

"Stop it!" she wheezed out between laughs.

"Do you forfeit?"

"Never! I will never for-" she broke off with another peal of laughter, even though he was barely touching her sides anymore. He'd sat up to get a better advantage, but now he took her in, laughing and happy, and his heart swelled with love for her and the family they were going to build.

"Alright, fine," he threw his hands up. "I surrender, you were right."

"Ha ha!" she pointed a triumphant finger at him. "I knew you'd come to your senses at some point." He took her accusatory finger in his hand, kissing the palm. She blushed a faint pink, and he loved how easily he could make it happen, even after almost two years of marriage.

"I think I lose my senses when I'm around you, darling."

They kissed, soft and gentle, and stayed wrapped up in each other for a while.

"Dominik." She whispered later, when the lights had gone out.

"What?" At the sound of his friend's name, Nikolai froze, and unbidden memories of their times together came back, accompanied by the unfortunate reminder that his best friend was dead.

"If... for the baby. Dominik for a boy."

He blinked back the tears, wiping away the stray ones that escaped and letting out a shaky breath.

"Kolya? Is... is it okay?"

Another breath.

"It's perfect."

[deadgirlwalking91]

what would have happened if Lucifer met Adam and Lute down in hell??

a lil fic of how i imagine it, hope u like it! it’s my first so ya…

"for fuck's sake" Adam muttered quite pissed off.

no matter how much they were scolded, punished or how many extra exercises Lute gave them, it wasn't the first time it happened and it wouldn't be the last,

most exorcists always left their damn weapons down in hell. And then it was the commander and lieutenant's job to deal with them the next day, as if they hadn't participated in the extermination and weren't already exhausted from their own.

Adam positioned the set of weapons he had managed to recover and then threw them inside a portal that led to the warehouse, turning to observe the situation, he sees Lute doing the same and goes back continuing his own.

despite this, he felt that something was wrong, it was like a gut feeling, and he didn't have time to react that he heard a light poof behind him, his eyes widened the moment he realized who it was

he turned facing the figure before him, frowning and squinting

"I see you're busy" said lucifer, looking at adam with an impassive gaze, but seeing the agitation of the angel before him he looked at him with genuine confusion

"What the fuck are you doing here?. I'm pretty sure we said the meeting will be in a week, fuckhead"

he looked him straight in the eyes, as if daring him to look away, and this made Lucifer even more suspicious

“oh yea, about that i-“

"is everything alright, sir ?"

Lucifer was surprised when he turned around to find a female figure in front of him, an impassive hatred could be perceived looking into those golden eyes of hers. she was a tall girl, well taller than him for sure, with beautiful short white/silver hair.

The fallen angel found himself even more confused when he figured out that she was one of the exorcists angels

"and you are..?" Lucifer offered, curious of the angel before his eyes

"Lute, lieutenant of the angelic army and Adam's right hand, we finally meet your highness."

those last syllables were said with pure hatred and disapproval

Lucifer disappeared in another cloud of smoke, then appeared before Lute, jst some inches away from the angel, studying her, Lute stood in place, staring at him with daring eyes

glancing back ad Adam, he could see his mask glitching.

"yea- no” Adam flew to land in front of Lute, separating her from the devil. He spread his wings behind his back in an intimidating manner, blocking Lute from view.

“Lute leave it to me , go back to heaven"

"But sir!-“ Lute challenged Adam with determination, Adam didn’t let Lute finish her sentence.

“did i stutter, Lieutenant? i don’t like repeating myself. Leave it to me. it’s an order”

Lute stared at him, but obeyed. she had to obey. Disagreeing with her boss happened plenty times, yea, but not in front of him.

As much as she wanted to, she had to obey "yes sir, sorry, sir”

she took one last look at lucifer before entering a portal.

___

“Lute huh? I see we're still sentimental with memories of eden aren’t we?”

he teased

“yea not your fuckin business. bitch.”

“yk. I didn't expect someone like her could be your type of woman..so demanding”

“oh for fuck’s sake. get the fuck out of here-“

“how come i’ve never met her? afraid of little me, Adam?”

He saw his mask glitch again in fury , that was going to be a long talk

Hey Anon!

You did great! <3

I love! Lucifer is such a little shit haha.

I can definitely see Adam wanting to keep Lute from him at all costs...

[fallen-in-dreams]

CHAPTER ELEVEN on AO3.

Chapters on Tumblr: One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten.

Pairing: Gaara/Sakura.

Summary: Her descent into madness came after her friends were all dead and before she was sold off like livestock. To him. He knew a thing or two about madness. And there was peace to be found in the violence of that madness. Even if only for a time. Canon divergence AU.

Rated: Mature.

Chapter word count: 11,885.

Status: Ongoing.

Reminder: the tags/warnings are important.

Warnings: dark themes. Arranged marriage (not what you think). Eventual smut (level and degree of that warning being necessary is subjective). Death. Suicide talk. Self-harm. PTSD – expect some well-known symptoms and some not well-known ones. Please don’t read if you’re triggered by psychological &/or emotional-related trauma and effects.

.

Hiya. Hope you're all doing well. :) So, I'm back. And this story is almost done. But I won't be updating every week - it'll be more like 1 or 2 weeks. The reason:

Sometimes chapters just want to get longer and longer and we really have no choice in the matter.

Unlike the last time I wrote out a fic in draft form then posted each chapter a week apart as I edited them, this story is trying to drive me crazy. 4k chapters turned into 6-9k and now THIS chapter is 11k. My editing process is squeezing that number count for all it's worth and it became so much of a chore. I really needed that New Year's break. So yeah, I'm going to slow it down a LITTLE bit. So I don't let it annoy me too much.

And I hope each and every one of you will join me for the rest of the ride. I can't wait to see what you guys think about what's coming. Cheers. :)

Enjoy. ^_^

Tumblr version:

… Chapter Eleven: To Kiss or Not to Kiss. ...

.:.

Oh love, believe me, Nothing ever comes to us easy, The river's never run up to meet me, Gotta find your own way down

-- Oh Love, by Phildel

.:.

How am I supposed to face her now?

Gaara stopped trying to figure women out a long time ago.

His argument with Sakura Haruno that morning weighed heavily on him all day. Whenever Gaara found a quiet moment or his mind would wander, images of pure fury and betrayal hounded him. Her pretty face screwed up in indignation and misery. He couldn’t get over the fact that Sakura had truly thought he was wilfully keeping her from her friends. It was just for a few moments but the level of pain that vibrated through her body still scared him.

Hours later.

Like so much about her already does.

So, he stewed in self-doubt all day, moving on autopilot as he went from council meetings to the lonely hours stuck working through tedious mission reports and high-level security reviews. Councillor Tōjūrō wanted this. Councillor Sajō insisted on that. And Councillor Ebizō inquired about their mutual concerns, via the not-so-silent Anbu they both trusted.

Gaara was beyond relieved when the working day ended, and he was able to leave. Most days, he stayed until late, and other times he simply took his work home. It had not escaped his notice that he worked too much. But what else was there? All he had outside of work were his siblings, and they had their own lives to deal with. So, most of the time, he had no-one.

And now her.

“Sakura!” Temari’s voice interrupted his thoughts as she called up to their house guest. “Dinner’s ready!”

Gaara clasped his hands together to hide the trembling of his fingers when Sakura finally descended the internal staircase for dinner. He forced himself to blink heavily to keep his vision from zoning out. Nerves and anticipation like he’d never felt before plagued him. It took all his willpower to keep from groaning in frustration at the strange feelings.

He watched pensively as Sakura sat down delicately. Swallowing heavily.

Sakura Haruno.

Gaara couldn’t keep his eyes to himself.

“Date her, talk to her, and try to figure out how we can help her in the meantime.”

Ideas began to swirl in his mind. Possibilities.

As the culinary genius of the family, Kankuro had cooked another magnificent meal. He was still in the kitchen, putting on the final touches as Temari started talking about how her own day had been. Since her decision to stay in the village she’d taken over the management of the guards and patrols of the village. Gaara didn’t know if she was trying to improve it or just scare them into line. Regardless, she wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon, so he gave her free reign to do (almost) whatever she wanted to them.

Temari stood to help Kankuro lay the food on the table. Sakura was staring at a spot close to the internal staircase, her fingers drumming softly on the table.

“Go get that date organised.”

Planning outings was not his thing. He’d never asked anyone on a date before. Expectation hung in the air.

“Let’s eat!” Kankuro yelled.

Dinner had always been a stiff but amicable affair. Every night, they’d sit around the main dining table to partake in one of Kankuro’s chef-level delights, talk would be minimal because they’d be enjoying the food too much to ruin the moment. But inevitably, someone would say something pointedly, and a casual, intermittent conversation would take place. Before Temari’s return, conversation would be carried by Kankuro’s attempts to make Sakura feel welcomed, strained as they were. Gaara would interject when he felt it necessary, with the occasional input from Sakura when addressed directly.

Since Temari’s return, his sister had not just driven the conversation, but wrenched it sideways and taken complete control of the reins. He wondered if was solely because of Sakura’s presence or a familiarity due to her connections to Temari’s former lover. Which begged the question of how much the pinkette knew about his fate.

Gaara gave a deep sigh that did not go unnoticed by the room at large. It all came down to lovers and friends and family, in the end. They were what truly mattered. Sakura coughed lightly and he glanced at her. Conversation would normally pick up at this point, but the air was unusually tense. He blamed himself.

Gaara hadn’t meant to hurt her by keeping the knowledge of her former allies from her. It hadn’t been vindictive. He just did not know where they were. He had his theories, of course, but nothing solid enough to act on. And this bothered him more than he could admit.

They ate in silence for a few minutes. Or rather, Temari and Kankuro did, though they both paused a few times to glance at each other, like they were planning something. Temari had shifted to the edge of the seat, an eager look on her face. Sakura was pushing her food around on the plate, not eating. Like himself. Gaara had only taken a few bites before realising he wasn’t even hungry. And Kankuro was digging in, with gusto.

When Temari broke the silence, Gaara was grateful. For all of five seconds. Then he conjured a mental image of his hands strangling her.

“So…” She looked between Gaara and Sakura as she spoke. “It turns out one of the council members is a traitor, likely in cahoots with Danzo.”

Gaara glared at her. You did that on purpose.

She shrugged her shoulders with an air of indifference that he didn’t buy for a second. She’d been trying to convince him to let Sakura in on his ultimate plans for the Leaf Resistance, the future of Suna, and this Cold War. His sister wanted too much. He told her so. He’d been telling her so. But now, the decision was out of his hands. Sakura wasn’t going to let this opportunity pass. Kankuro put his cutlery down and leaned back, watching quietly. Amusement and curiosity danced in his eyes. Gaara could almost hear him thinking, well this should be interesting.

Sakura stopped playing with her food and looked up at Temari after side eyeing Gaara. He braced himself.

“How do you know there’s a traitor?”

“Through Lord Ebizō,” Temari said without hesitation. “Apparently, he’s been working with Gaara here.” She pointed her thumb at him as he scowled back at her. “They’ve found–”

“Temari.”

Kankuro made a soft sound the was halfway between a scoffed and snicker. Nobody paid him any mind.

Gaara glared at his sister. “She doesn’t need to know.”

She won’t be able to handle it, went unsaid.

He was aware of the insult to her person, but he couldn’t help himself. Kazekage or not, Sakura was under his care. She wasn’t one of his ninja. She was in no way his subordinate. Or professional equal. And as such, she was not to be privy to sensitive village information. He could not take responsibility for that. It was enough that he’d given Temari and Kankuro the highest security clearance legally possible for them simply because they were family. And the fact that they could handle it was beside the point.

This wasn’t a matter of trust. Sakura just wasn’t like them. Not anymore.

The pinkette scowled at him. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

Gaara sat up straighter. He matched her glare with one of his own. It was to be a battle of the wills, then.

.:.

Sakura did not pull her eyes from Gaara while Temari continued as though she hadn’t been interrupted.

“As you would know, communications between different Kage are always done in code or with a Kage-only sealing jutsu.”

Sakura nodded still staring at the Kazekage. She’d seen Tsunade pen letters to other Kage numerous times in both ways. Shizune had been a pro at transcribing the Hokage’s frustrated and eye-twitching candour to something more diplomatic. Sakura had never quite mastered that skill. Where Shizune excelled, Sakura fell behind. Where Sakura shined, Shizune’s skills were lacking. In that way, they’d complimented each other as Tsunade’s most trusted aides.

“Well,” Kankuro added, breaking his own silence. “Lord Ebizō came to Gaara with copies of transcribed missives that had deletion points in them.”

Sakura nodded again. A deletion point was exactly as it sounded. Information that was sent to Danzo must have been deleted at Suna’s end but not Konoha’s. It was off the record information. The only legitimate reason to delete parts of a message on the official, final copy, was for Kage level reasons. And this was clearly a deletion that Gaara had been unaware of.

What it even meant, she couldn’t say. But there was another problem.

“How…” she started softly, fighting to keep her staring match with the redhead. “How did he find it?”

It was a dangerous thing to do, but also difficult to detect. One might say damn near impossible, considering they shouldn’t have a reason for even looking for it. And whomever discovered the deletion point would have to be exceptionally skilled at Cryptanalysis. At the very least. Had it been Ebizō himself?

Temari answered her unasked question. “A new jounin found it. He wasn’t supposed to be there, apparently. Was just covering a shift for a friend. He’s listed primarily as a sensor ninja but apparently started his prior chunin career as a Cryptanalysis specialist.”

Sakura nodded again, finally understanding. “Lucky.”

“Yes. But unfortunately, he couldn’t tell who made the deletions.”

Of course. Sakura would be surprised if he had. So, this jounin had gone to Ebizō instead of the Kazekage? Maybe because it had been a Kage level security issue, he’d instead gone to the only person whose reputation was both impeccable as well as unquestionable.

“But how does that mean a council member did it?” Was she missing something?

It was Kankuro’s turn to answer. “Nobody in this room but Gaara could do it and we know he didn’t. The next line of suspects are the senior members of the council. Councillors Sajō, Ryūsa, and Tōjūrō are the senior advisors who legally have access to Kage level information. Officially, anyway.”

Because of course the Kazekage reserves the right to not inform them of anything if he doesn’t want to.

“How senior is Ebizō?”

“He leads the council.”

Sakura blinked heavily. So, it could’ve been Ebizō but wasn’t, because he brought it to Gaara’s attention. So, he was the only one they could trust. Almost as though this whole thing was a test that Gaara had set up to suss out the reliability of his subordinates. Except that he couldn’t have predicted this jounin’s inclusion. It would’ve been a piss poor test if nobody found it.

Sakura tapped her chin staring back into Gaara’s seafoam eyes with something akin to calmness. Almost like she was a real person having a legitimate conversation.

Well, look at me, acting like a normal, functioning person. What would my mirror image hallucination think about that?

“Councillors Sajō, Ryūsa, and Tōjūrō.”

She didn’t know anything about Ryūsa beyond some murmuring that he might lead the council one day. Tōjūrō was a complete mystery. But Sajō? Oh, Councillor Sajō she knew. That was a face she’d never forget, the arrogant, pompous, prick. She had fantasies about strangling him with his own intestines on a daily basis. If she could, she would.

Her eyes drifted as Sakura imagined, once again, the choking sounds of the older man as she throttled him. It took a few more seconds and a clearing of Gaara’s throat before she scowled, realising what had just happened. In her distraction, she’d accidentally broke eye contact with him. When she looked back at him, the Kazekage was looking smug.

Shit.

.:.

Gaara couldn’t contain his smirk as Sakura broke their staring contest. Something clunking around in her brain had distracted her.

Good.

“Councillors Sajō, Ryūsa, and Tōjūrō.” Sakura mumbled to herself once more, angling her body away from Gaara and his gaze. He kept watching, his face falling into a frown as she ignored him.

“It has to be Sajō,” she said.

“Why?” Temari asked.

Sakura pulled a face. “I’ve had the unfortunate displeasure of being hounded by him. He’s an arsehole.”

“His personality is not evidence,” Gaara intervened, and she glared at him before turning away again.

Sakura pursed her lips. “I know it’s him.”

“Okay.” His brother was driving Gaara crazy. Temari added to the frustration by echoing his words.

He couldn’t sit here and allow this anymore. “No,” he said.

Sakura clenched her fists, her eyes darting over to the corner of the room; she’d jumped slightly, but there was nothing there to startle her. Sometimes, Gaara wondered about that. Hallucinations.

“This isn’t up for discussion,” he said.

It was a wonder his sanity was still intact, dealing with her. She slammed her fists down on the table, dislodging silverware and making his siblings jump out of their skins, but not so hard as to damage the structural integrity of the furniture.

“You promised,” she said scathingly, glaring openly at him, and he was reminded of their argument that morning. “You said you would tell me–”

“I said that we’ll talk later,” he corrected her.

“About the Leaf Resistance!” She yelled and Temari and Kankuro’s heads whipped towards Gaara. He could feel their confusion and surprise but ignored them. “About what you’re doing! You said we should talk. We need to talk. So, let’s talk damn it!”

“This cipher talk isn’t about the Resistance,” he growled. “Nor is the traitor councillor.”

“Do you know that for sure?” She snapped. “Or are you just presuming? What if it’s all connected, Gaara? What if none of it is a coincidence?” She was on a roll now, taking a deep breath before charging into her new hypothesis with gusto. “Danzo doesn’t want a strong alliance with Suna, and we all know it. I’m not actually here to marry you! What if my mission is part of a larger plan? Sending a Root member with me when those tiny little fucking bastards are not actually trained in diplomacy? You have to admit that’s suspicious! So, what if his connection with this traitor has something to do with the Resistance? Or to undermine Suna because he already has a highly connected ally within your walls! What if it’s all connected? Did you ever stop to think about that?”

Gaara blinked heavily at her. Her deduction was quite the stretch. But crazier things had happened and he couldn’t think of a valid counter point, so he would be remiss to completely rule it out. He sighed. But this wasn’t the place to discuss this.

“I can help,” she said, her voice suddenly soft. He didn’t respond. “He won’t expect anything from me.”

“We don’t even know it’s him,” Gaara said. He was fighting with himself as much as her. He didn’t want to push her out of this, but it was political. And she wasn’t a Suna native. It wouldn’t be treason, but it would be dangerous. For both of them.

Maybe I’m overreacting.

He had no clue. Sakura’s face scrunched up as though she was in pain and her head dipped. She closed her eyes and he imagined she was struggling to calm herself. Was she having a panic attack? Gaara felt a similar spasm grasp his chest at the thought of having done this to her.

I can’t do anything right, with her.

She stood up abruptly, not looking at anyone. Her hands were balled into fists and Gaara’s stomach clenched painfully. Guilt. He felt the urge to say something, anything, to keep her from leaving this room angry. But nothing came to mind. He sat there, with his mouth slightly agape, unable to say the things she needed to hear.

Why?

There was a war in Gaara’s heart. The urge to protect her. The urge to respect her desire to participate. The urge to keep her far from the machinations of the evil of this world. He felt like he was being torn in too many different directions. But he knew that above all, he was being incredibly selfish.

With no regard for her uneaten dinner, Sakura stormed out.

He couldn’t release the groan that threatened to bubble up his throat. Gaara remembered he still had an audience and turned his head minutely to glance at them. Temari was frowning at him, her fingers tapping the table soundlessly. Kankuro was shaking his head, his lips twisted in barely controlled irritation. Gaara let that effervescent groan escape his mouth. He was an arsehole. He knew it. Because his siblings had never looked at him with so much disappointment before. Even when he let a demon out to play havoc on their village as a blood thirsty child.

.:.

When will I ever learn?

She was too emotional. Always had been. Weak. Pathetic. Emotional little girl. Expected too much of others. Presumed too much of herself. Stupid.

Sakura stormed up the internal staircase and slammed her bedroom door closed. She didn’t stop there, grabbing the cactus Matsuri and Yukata had given her (what else did she have?) and throwing it against the wall. Not the back of the door. No, not the chronicle of her timeline in Suna.

Soil spilled onto the floor, but the succulent remained firmly in the pot. The hardy bastard.

She let out a long-winded, slightly high-pitched groan. One minute Gaara was open and treating her like a human being and the next, looking down on her and breaking his promises. She felt so childish, but Sakura didn’t care. She wanted to rage and yell and pound some faces into the ground. She let her anger broil and seethe as she turned and threw herself at the bed. Head in the middle and feet dangling over the edge, she screamed into the blanket for all she was worth.

Which isn’t much, let’s be honest.

It was best to muffle her more violent urges. Noisy. Yes. The last thing she wanted was for someone to hear her screaming and to come running. If they would even. She scoffed. Sakura groaned, then rolled onto her back, grabbed the pillow, and attempted to suffocate herself. It wouldn’t be the first attempt since her arrival at Suna.

Who am I kidding?

She wasn’t trying to do anything to herself.

Sakura gripped the pillow harder, closed her eyes tightly and then screamed again. The muffled sound only made her ears pop. She sighed and sat up wearily. She needed to stop doing this to herself. After so long alone, Sakura had started to think she was a part of something. Maybe something special. Probably just something not toxic. Not dangerous. Kankuro was personable. Temari seemed genuinely happy to see her. But Gaara… fuck, she had to stop wanting more from him.

She shook herself and stood up as the mirage floated into the room, through that blasted window. Sakura’s heart raced and she shivered. Had the temperature dropped suddenly or was she just feeling the aftereffects of her panic attack? She watched as the mirage as it turned on the spot and seemed to only just notice her, glowering now.

“I hate you,” she said with conviction. I really do.

“You brought this on yourself,” it replied.

“Shut up.”

Its smile was cruel. Sakura closed her eyes and sat back down on the bed; hands fisted on her thighs.

“He doesn’t care about you.”

“Go away.”

“You’re useless to him.”

She wanted to cry. A choked sob escaped her before she could stop it. No. She was in control of this. Sakura threw her pillow at the mirage. And of course it sailed right through that smug, broken, and bloodied face. It was happy and angry at the same time. How could something that wasn’t even real hold any emotions at all?

“Are you even trying to escape this stupid hell hole?”

No, apparently Sakura had completely forgotten she wanted out of Suna. How long had it been? She paused in her internal debate to glance at the back of her bedroom door.

Twenty-five days so far.

“Ugh.”

Between wanting in on Gaara’s schemes and her ink creatures, Sakura still had no idea what she was doing. Her creations had scouted the village outskirts and even memorised the guard positions and patrol routes. There was no predictability to times, but the places were all the same. It was something to work with, at least. But it was getting her nowhere.

Twenty-five days and all she’d accomplished was making a fool of herself in front of everyone.

Gaara didn’t want her help. Her creatures had probably escaped this hell hole, leaving her behind. There was nothing to do. Nothing but sit in her room like a good girl and wait out whatever plan Gaara and his siblings had. Once the traitor had been identified and proven they could then tackle the political mess Danzo had Suna entrenched in. And Sakura would be free.

And this time I’ll run.

She’d kill the Root shadow and run. Sakura grasped at her chest, grinning despite the hole in her heart. She didn’t notice the single tear at first. It contained all her hopes for being human again. She wiped at it, not sure what to think of it. But she was spared that particular, repetitive self-flagellation at the abrupt sound of a hiss. She started, spinning around quickly. Her kunai was still in the hole in the windowsill. Conveniently between her and the source of the disturbance.

I really need a better hiding place.

Or multiple kunai dipped in poison. Yes, that would be better. More kunai, more targets. She smiled ruefully at that, her focus snapping to the window. She breathed a sigh of relief when there was no attack but rather the shadows of familiar shapes.

They’re finally back.

The ink creatures. The vulture-like bird and viper shaped snake. They slid into the room through the open window, moving in tandem. Between the two of them they had a death grip on something. Something distinctly snake-shaped and presumably dead. A wide grin spread over her face, and they halted their movements.

“Yes,” she hissed. She inched toward them as the ink bird hopped impatiently, releasing its own grip. When she touched the real snake softly, the ink snake twisted its body, tightening its hold on the carcass. The snake was indeed dead. She sighed, relieved. That would make this much easier. The chemical make-up of venom did not change after the snake died. So, theoretically, she should be able to extract the venom and use it, no problem.

Sakura vividly remembered a description of the milking process from a snake husbandry book during her genin days in Konoha.

Press down on the back of the snake’s head after it bites the container. The fangs will drip out venom for at least fifteen to twenty seconds.

Those instructions had been for a live snake. She cocked her head at the dead one as it was still being half-heartedly strangled by living ink, at her feet. Well, hopefully its deceased status wouldn’t make a difference other than ease of access. Hopefully.

Do I do this now?

Normally, she’d wait for the other occupants of the household to go to bed before doing something she didn’t want to be walked in on doing. Right now, standing, staring, and contemplating her sanity carried a high risk of interruption.

Sakura glanced up at the clock. She’d only been back in the room for almost two minutes. It felt far longer. She sighed, resigned, and shooed her hand at the ink creatures. Trying to corral cats would be easier. They just sat and stared at her. Or rather, the snake remained motionless except for the occasional tightening of its possessive grip and the bird cocked its head at her. Much like she’d done a moment ago. Not that it made a difference if they suddenly started towards the bathroom or something, to keep out of sight. And this whole thing would be far safer if she waited, anyway. She’d already been waiting two days for their return to begin, what was a few more hours?

Still feels like I’ve been pacing impatiently for far longer.

She sat on the edge of her bed and closed her eyes. Her emotions had settled. She felt so drained. But not exhausted. There was an old meditation technique that Lady Tsunade had taught her, and she was just scooting back further onto the bed to try it when Sakura paused, startled by the sudden rush of chakra.

Gaara’s chakra.

Gaara’s knock on her door.

“Is he here to apologise?” She’d forgotten about the mirage. Its singsong, mocking voice floated over to her. “I don’t think so.”

She inhaled deeply, unable to stop the sudden hiccupping sob that sounded from her mouth. All the anger and fear and feelings of resentment and abandonment that had just disappeared, all the tension in her body, suddenly returned with a vengeance. How could one person, so innately collected and calm, invoke such a raging storm inside her? She hated it. And right now, she hated him.

“Stop lying.”

Go away.

He wasn’t going away.

Fuck the mirage. She wanted Gaara to leave her alone. But she also wanted him to persist. To show her she was worth the effort. That he cared. Sakura wiped at her tears and attempted to make her face look presentable. Maybe he would give up. In that case the only person who would see her tears was herself.

He knocked again.

“Sakura?” That deep, soft voice. Gods.

What is he doing to me?

.:.

Moonlight filtered in through her window as Sakura stared at the door. The ink creatures twittered and hissed, respectively, nearby and she wasn’t ready for Gaara to see them.

“Think he’ll actually call you crazy this time?”

Maybe. The mirage grinned at her thought.

“Sakura?”

Right, he was still outside her room. She fought the urge to flee. It had been her default state since arriving in Suna and it was beyond exhausting.

And embarrassing.

She glanced at the snake and bird before slowly opening the door half a foot and holding tightly to the frame to keep him from pushing it open. If he had such a notion. Sakura forced herself to look him in the eye.

The shame. His face was full of it.

“Hi.”

He nodded but before Gaara could respond, Sakura moved forward, placing a trembling hand on his chest, keeping her eyes on his. Pale green irises widened but he didn’t complain. Feeling more confident, Sakura pushed him gently and closed the door behind herself. In the hallway. Alone. Together. Her other hand found its way to his chest and Sakura felt his heart beat a little faster under her fingertips.

“It’s a nice night,” she said, her voice low and strong. Maybe. She had no idea. It just had to be strong enough to project confidence. Conviction she missed about her past herself. She was trying, really. “Let’s go to the roof.”

His eyes searched hers wordlessly, clearly trying to figure out what her plan was. What she was thinking. Why she was thinking it. Maybe even if she was trying to trick him. He’d deserve it, after that display during dinner, but Sakura tried for her most saccharine smile.

Seemingly convinced, he slipped his right arm around her waist and pulled her gently toward him, flush against his body. Sand whipped up around them and she couldn’t stop the light gasp for the life of her. Steeling herself, Sakura gripped harder to him as they disappeared from the hallway outside her bedroom and her centre of gravity shifted and they reappeared on the roof of the Kazekage mansion.

The cold night air hit her first. She shivered but didn’t complain. She expected Gaara to pull away immediately but his hold on her remained firm. Almost like it was his apology. Or he was working up to one. Sakura waited. And glanced around, remembering that the Root shadow would be able to see them from the outside, on the roof, even if he couldn’t hear them.

She could imagine that freak’s reaction if he was watching right now. Sakura remembered, one of the few times the masked man hadn’t berated her on their three-day journey to Suna he’d gone over her expectations on this mission. He’d expected her to lull Gaara into a false sense of security. To take advantage of him. To play the part of a girl being sold off.

Use your assets, he’d said, leering at her. It’s not like you haven’t done this before.

Danzo had not ordered her to sleep with, let alone woo Gaara, specifically. But it was in every look he’d given her before sending her off. It was in between every line in the official papers for this mission. Of course, she’d ignored it. Sakura hadn’t planned to be here this long. But here she was, with Gaara’s arm around her, and all Sakura could think of was that, technically, this was supposed to be a seduction mission. She hadn’t foreseen viewing Gaara as a sexual being. It had snuck up on her, now painfully obvious. Sakura knew it before but a part of her had also denied it, but it was true. There was no going back now. She wanted him.

Desperately.

But she was done hoping he would start anything. Gaara wasn’t like that.

Sakura started as his left arm came around to embrace her. His chin resting on top of her head, and he let out a soft sigh. It made her body tremble in response, and she wondered what he was trying to do if not turn her on. This was out of character for him. As far as she could tell. She inhaled deeply. And he needed to stop smelling so good too.

Because it’s hot as fuck.

She wanted to dominate him. The feeling wasn’t new to her but the chance to be the one in control, was. All she’d ever done is exude a fake version of confidence. Sex was methodical. A tool. To her, at least. And here was Gaara, making her want something else. Something more.

But how am I supposed to get that?

She had no idea how to instigate this. Reluctantly, Sakura released her hold on Gaara and after a few moments of what seemed like internal contemplation, he uncoiled his arms, removing them from her hips gently. Always the gentleman. Never the paramour. She cleared her throat and took a step backwards.

He wouldn’t want me that way, anyway.

She needed to get this under control. This level of intensity wasn’t natural for her. It had to be a side effect of either the prazosin drug she was taking or her anxiety. Post Traumatic Distress Disorder. She wasn’t so stupid as to presume she’d survived the last few years with her sanity intact. And it would explain so much.

“I’m sorry.”

Sakura’s jaw dropped at Gaara’s words. He was sorry. She blinked stupidly at him.

“For everything,” he said.

She nodded slowly, licking her lips absentmindedly. Yes, he’d been an arse. She could accept this. She stared at him for a moment, contemplating how to go about the discussion she wanted to have with him. He kept eye contact, obviously content with waiting for her input. She tried to smile but her lips quivered.

Sakura sighed.

“Councillor Sajō. He came to a few of the wedding planning sessions,” she said, deciding on a change of topic. “He was abrupt but otherwise respectful to the other ladies. But he kept glancing at me.” She shuddered at the memory. “He didn’t like what he saw. And he hates me. I know it’s not a lot to go on,” she added. “I’m sorry I was so pushy and defensive about it.”

“It’s not your fault.”

Sakura didn’t think he had anything to base that on. Sometimes she thought he had a secret file that occasionally leaked information about her to him, in minute amounts; just enough for him to get glimpses into her psyche, but not enough for a deep dive. Enough for his pity to sting her. To burn. And enough for him to think her some kind of helpless victim.

She stood straighter, shoulders pushed back, and chin raised. Sakura had never been good at hiding her feelings, even after the Root commanded that had trained her in the early days of Danzo’s reign got tired of her lack of control. The man had very little patience for emotional outbursts. He could teach her all manner of underhanded jutsu and Root-based tactics but mental conditioning to suppress her emotions? She was never going to master that. Not to his satisfaction, anyway. There was no seal on her tongue. Danzo didn’t stick needles in her eyes and brainwash her. No, he just had his subordinates torture her. Poke her full of holes. Heal her. Fry her. Rinse and repeat. She was fun to play with, apparently. Even more so than some others because an unwilling servant could scream the loudest.

“The council has always been difficult,” Gaara interrupted her thoughts, running a hand through his hair distractedly. He looked past her, as though someone had appeared suddenly, and she had to refrain from turning to look. But there had to be nobody there because his demeanour didn’t change. “They do like to make up their own rules sometimes.”

“I can believe that. Especially after that councillor started having me followed.”

Sakura was adamant that Sajō had. The Root shadow never seemed bothered by it. He’d even laughed a few times when she’d stopped on her way back to the Kazekage’s mansion, sensing the darkening presence behind her. Escorted by Matsuri and Yukata, she was shielded by their presence. Their limited protection. But the moment she strayed again; Sakura knew all bets would be off.

And who knows what Sajō is actually willing to throw down?

Would he have her cornered and interrogated? Would he stoop to physically attacking her? Maybe an attack like that would-be-assassin? He was making sure she stayed in line. After their run-in at the council building, she showed herself to be a loose cannon. And if Sajō was in league with Danzo, then it was likely the Root shadow would help him.

She explained all of this to Gaara, leaving out how her contemplation on how far Sajō would go intrigued her. If the old man gave her a reason to fight back, she would. Gaara frowned, concern marring his features.

“It has to be him,” she said.

“It’s at least a place to start,” he agreed.

Sakura smiled widely at him, warmth spreading over her face. Was she blushing? But hope had burgeoned in her chest, and she didn’t care, either way. His eyes softened as he stared back at her, and she had to push down the sudden urge to throw her arms around him.

“I can help,” she said. It wasn’t meant as a reprimand, but Gaara’s face shifted into stony seriousness.

“I know,” he said, his voice low and ashamed. “I’m sorry I snapped at you. I shouldn’t have done that.”

She nodded. “You know… I can handle myself.”

“I know–”

“I just…”

Sakura glanced around the rooftop, remembering another night when he’d followed her up here and she’d killed a masked assassin. It felt like years had passed since then. Being here for the first time since then brought it all back. The blood on her hands. The rain gently trying, and failing, to wash it away. Her mind spasming in ecstasy at the opportunity to finally get to kill something. When she eventually turned back to Gaara she found him looking around in a similar manner, a faraway, contemplative expression on his face.

Does he think of that night often, too?

“We never talked about that night,” she said, and suddenly had his full attention again. “I killed a man–”

“Who was trying to kill you,” he interrupted, but she kept going, unimpeded.

“–right here. I tore into him. And I know you know I took pleasure in it.” She inhaled deeply, her breath shaky, and ignoring the way he looked pensive. “And I know you know… that I’m not…” She struggled to find the right way to explain how she’d lost the plot without sounding dramatic. But it wouldn’t come. Instead, she tried another angle. “Sometimes it comes in flashes. I’ll be okay one moment and then… I’ll just want to dig my kunai into something. Or even my bare hands. That ache. That desire.” She sighs. “I know you understand.”

Because you used to be out of control too went unsaid.

“And I see things…” She cut herself off quickly, not wanting to go further down that rabbit hole.

Gaara’s eyes had widened slightly at that admission, but he didn’t say anything. She was grateful for that.

Anyway…

“I’m not all there, I know. But I’m not so far gone that–”

“You’re not crazy, Sakura. You’re not worthless or useless or unworthy.” Gaara narrowed his eyes at her. His hands twitched, like he too was fighting the urge for them to embrace. She longed for that warmth again, shifting the weight between her feet nervously.

He stared at her intensely and she swallowed heavily in a vain attempt to stop the flow of tears. They stuck in the corner of her eyes in warning, and she tried so hard to keep them from falling, clenching her fists, digging her nails into her hands. Whatever she needed to do. Sakura nodded her head in agreement even as she refused to accept his sweet words.

But her gratitude towards this man was so strong that she couldn’t restrain the single sob from ripping out of her mouth. Now, she couldn’t stop the light tears now gathering along her eyelashes, threatening to obscure her vision. Sakura hugged herself as Gaara reached out to wipe the tears away. He was so tender and considerate. She felt like she was going to break from his kindness. It was good. But it was also torture.

Even after his outbursts and stubbornness to keep her in the dark, she couldn’t begrudge him forgiveness.

Sakura sniffed and leaned into his touch lightly, even as she was unable to bring herself to look at him. He cupped her cheek for a few moments, just holding his hand still against her before slowly wiping at her eyes again. When he removed his hand completely, it wasn’t done hastily or roughly. She didn’t feel rejected. She felt calmer. More in control.

“Sakura… I…”

What could he say? She didn’t know.

“Let’s go on that date.”

But apparently, he does.

She started, looking up at him in surprise. That came out of nowhere. But to be fair, it was something they’d already talked about. Once she got over the initial shock, Sakura found herself smiling her way through the mild panic at the thought of officially dating him.

“Now?”

He nodded.

“It’s a bit late.”

Gaara smiled wryly. “I don’t sleep much, and you don’t… have to go to the wedding planner tomorrow.”

That was true. It was officially her day off. She’d planned to spend it in the training grounds and also use some of that time to hone her ink crafting skills again. Sakura no longer felt the compulsion to escape Suna, though a deep seeded feeling of unease from merely being in Suna still ate at her. Everything she did now was just to pass the time, out of habit, or necessity. But this… yeah, she wanted to change things up a bit.

“O-okay.” She cleared her throat. “Yes. Let’s… uh,” she blushed, “go on that date.”

Gaara must have been thinking about this more than she realised. He rattled off a few ideas, all of which she could picture being interrupted and annoyed by the ever-present Root shadow in her wake. But several of the ideas sounded like they might just be in a no-go zone for her stalker.

Only one way to find out.

And it was a shame her mirage couldn’t be kept out of things as easily.

Sakura realised, as Gaara tentatively explained how this place and that place were in high security areas and had amazing views of the village, that of course the Shadow wasn’t allowed in all areas of Suna. She could’ve slapped herself for not thinking of it earlier. It was even likely he wasn’t allowed anywhere near Suna’s shinobi academy. All of this must have been covered back when they’d arrived and Baki had run down official rules to them both. She hadn’t been paying attention back then.

So many places I could’ve lost him in. Buried him, more like.

“Something casual,” Gaara was saying, bringing Sakura’s attention back to their impending date. Were they just going somewhere casual? Or was he talking about their relationship? Or maybe what they were going to wear? Well, there wasn’t anything casual about being engaged. It was still a farce, but it no longer felt trivial to her.

Okay, she could do this. She cleared her throat. “Yes, casual.”

Was that a smirk?

“We’ll need somewhere with food,” she added, ignoring the flush that his smirk had invoked along her body. They were both acutely aware neither of them had eaten their dinner. But Sakura didn’t want some homemade food for this. “Or money to buy some.”

“There are a number of acceptable vendors open this time of night.”

“Right.”

“I asked you out,” he said, his face tinging pink. “I will pay any and all fees.”

She wasn’t going to argue with that, since she was flat broke. It wasn’t like Danzo cared to pay her for any of her missions. She inwardly scoffed at the notion. The only things she owned were from before his takeover or what she’d managed to steal over the years. She would have to go through the clothes in the wardrobe in her bedroom. Again. At least there more options to choose from now, since both Matsuri and Yukata had made a point of restocking that threadbare closet.

“And I’ll change into something less... I mean more comfortable.” She spluttered. “I mean something casual.” She bit her lip in embarrassment. They were a pair of tomatoes. “Meet you back here in fifteen?”

Gaara nodded, his smile infectious as she returned it before turning on the spot and leaving him alone on the roof. She hadn’t even thought to ask him to use his sand, perhaps because she was still subconsciously remembering the ink creatures. They needed to be dealt with first, before she went anywhere.

Gaara will wait.

She knew he would.

.:.

The night was alive with the sounds and lights that made up the heart of Suna.

And the hounding footsteps of her eternal stalker. The closer they moved towards the lights and sounds, the further the Root retreated into the shadows. It faded into the background but refused to disappear completely. She would not turn her head to give it the attention it craved.

Instead, Sakura took in the sights and sounds, feeling like a proper tourist for the first time in her life. Gaara took her down a small path that led from the Kazekage mansion to the larger maze of interconnected paths to the thoroughfare of the village. From this narrow road, all other paths diverged. And his chosen path opened up into a lively and festival area.

There was no official looking celebration or staged performance, but the atmosphere had a similar ambience to them both. And the people were in merriment as though there really was a carnival going on. Sakura wondered if this was a new thing, because of the tensions of the Cold War and people just wanting to forget for a time, or if Suna had always occasionally held large-scaled revelries. Civilians behind the walls of any village, hidden and safer than most, couldn’t understand what it was really like out there, surely.

Enough of the doom and gloom.

The Root shadow followed as they moved deeper into the edge of the festivities, where the crowd was thinnest, keeping away from the louder groups. Far away. Some people turned to look at them; they recognised Gaara, despite his casual long styled jinbei, but Sakura’s casual shirt and trousers would not have screamed her identity more than her shocking pink hair. Even drab, it stood out. Fortunately, the crowd was sparse, having died down from the dinner rush, which meant the menu selections were limited but that suited them just fine.

Sakura tried not to notice how many people there really were. Nor the concerned look on Gaara’s face when he clearly noticed her anxiety. A few vendors sat on the outskirts of this rabble and Gaara steered them towards the first of the street food merchants, his hand on the small of her back. Sakura eyed the yakisoba but ultimately decided on yakitori. Gaara chose the same.

“I cannot take your money, Lord Kazekage,” the flustered merchant waved his hands frantically, when Gaara went to pay for it. “A treat for your lady friend. On the house.”

Sakura inhaled deeply, not wanting to speak for fear of setting off her anxiety. There were enough eyes on her. And the Shadow was ever present, even in the background. She took a deep breath and followed Gaara as he led her to an open dining area that was mostly empty. They sat on the tableless chairs and ate, just enjoying the distantly happy atmosphere and their silent company. It was oddly comfortable.

There was a tradition in Suna, or so Gaara had told her on the walk down the paths to this district. He’d learned about it from his brother. Like bar hopping in Konoha, this was called stall hopping – on dates or festival nights, going from one vendor to the next, buying a single, small portion of food, then moving onto the next vendor to repeat the process. It sounded interesting. Having finished their seasoned chicken, they now had their meat. Their animal protein.

The next stall had to be different. That was the tradition.

With Gaara’s arm pressed lightly and confidently against Sakura’s lower back, they continued to the next stall, which specialised in rice and seaweed as their main ingredients. Here, the vendor owner also refused Gaara’s money and ladled their plates with a serving of Onigiri and a shrimp tempura roll and ushered them to some seats nearby.

Sakura supposed it was good for business too, having the Kazekage seen at their stall.

“No, no, Lord Kazekage! I will not have it!” The third vendor followed the example of the previous ones, refusing Gaara’s money as well.

He was flushed at the intensity of their refusals and Sakura had to hide a smile behind her hand.

“Looks like they like you too much,” she whispered.

“Your lady friend will eat for free too.”

Gaara had clearly never actually done anything like this before. The novelty was something to behold. They both ordered a small bowl of miso soup, and this time chose to sit closer to the stall as they consumed their food. Sakura took the opportunity to study him as he delicately sipped at his miso, not bothering with the seaweed within the soup.

His sharp features made her feel nostalgia for the days when a pretty face would have her bumbling over her words or blushing just thinking about some boy’s eyes on her. She closed her eyes as images of Sasuke glaring at her popped into her mind. Her innocent, naïve days were over.

“They like you too,” Gaara whispered softly, and she looked over to see that he’d finished already. He wasn’t looking at her, but she took comfort from the gentle smile on his lips as he looked out over the scant crowd.

Her heart was hammering in her chest, but she tried to ignore it. She’d never been on a date before but had gossiped in her early years of puberty about all the different ways to go about it and how the boy in question would dote on her. However, none of them had involved stall hopping for a street vendor mixed with Kaiseki styled meals for an on the move dinner.

If only we could have done this without a stalker watching our every move.

She pointedly ignored the mostly invisible monster. When they were done, Sakura wanted the next stall to be a dessert one. Gaara pulled a face at the sweets before him, and Sakura laughed at the way he fake-coughed like it would get him out of helping her choose something.

Gaara turned his nose up at the dumplings and imagawayaki that Sakura had pointed out, making her giggle more like she was a real girl on a date this time. He really didn’t like sweets. There was no fried ice-cream, which she assumed he’d like better, but she convinced him to try some savory senbei. He didn’t flinch at the taste, and she grinned at him like she’d won a prize. His skin flushed a light pink, but he said nothing.

This merchant also refused his money and Sakura found herself comforting Gaara’s obvious unease by rubbing her hand along his lower back. The move surprised them both but except for a moment’s hesitation, she didn’t let it stop her from continuing. Until their food came and she focused on the task of consuming her dumplings without choking from embarrassment.

Their final vendor was a tea stand. This owner was just as impressed by the appearance of the Kazekage and finally, Gaara didn’t bother feeling too awkward about their insistence regarding payment. They took their green tea and decided to stroll out of the district, side by side, arms down, hands brushing against each other every now and then. And like naïve teenagers who’d never done anything romantic before, they wore identical looks of shyness and happiness. It was a great feeling. An unfamiliar feeling, for them both.

“I’m proud of you, Gaara.”

He blinked at her. “I should say the same.”

She smiled as they moved away, the food stalls gave way to a larger area. The food here came in restaurant size, but they bypassed it, keeping to the edge. But all good things do come to an end.

Because I’m a freak.

There was a commotion. Not a violent one by the sounds of it, but it seemed that some people were making a fuss in a crowd nearby. Yelling. Whooping. Drunken noises. Sounds that mimicked festivities that had gotten out of hand. The crowd was larger than Sakura was used to, and she hesitated on the threshold. She closed her eyes for a second to control her breathing, taking a small, unconscious step away from it. Her heart was racing again, her palms sweaty. Gaara stood silently and patiently beside her. He touched her arm softly when it was clear she wasn’t going anywhere.

“Are you okay?”

She couldn’t nod or speak, just trying to focus on her breathing. Her ears were ringing but it came and went quickly. Sakura grasped Gaara’s hand that had touched her, startling him. He took the hint and led her away from it. There were more commotions, but not as loud or out of control this time. The people were just having fun. Sakura didn’t know what had drawn their attention as she was not focusing on anything other than moving her feet and how warm Gaara’s hand felt against her skin.

And as they came to the edge of these newer sounds, she didn’t hesitate. “Let’s have a look.”

“Are you sure?”

He clearly was worried she wouldn’t be able to handle it, and he had reason to. She wasn’t exactly exuding confidence. But Sakura wanted to go down there and just check it out, at least. To find out what had drawn the attention of so many if not the usual things attributed to festivities, like games or fireworks. They didn’t have to stay for long. Just long enough to satisfy her curiosity.

Sakura reached out and entwined their hands before she could stop herself out of embarrassment. “I’ll squeeze your hand when I want to leave.”

He nodded, swallowing heavily and gently squeezing her hand in affirmation.

Okay, then.

Sakura took a deep breath. I can do this.

She’d already endured the inquisitive stares of the scattered people at the street stalls; this was just another step in the right direction. And if she could do all that under the eye of the Root, then she could do anything. It was just another challenge to overcome. And she so desperately wanted to overcome it.

They were recognised of course, and more than one set of eyes drifted to their entwined hands. Her skin felt clammy all of a sudden and a light squeeze from Gaara both set her heart aflutter and calmed her nerves. They only stayed for a few minutes. The lights were bright and the people, laughing and swaying, were loud and friendly. But she’d finally had enough.

Masks.

It was a mask gathering, themed not unlike the Matsuri festival back in Konoha. Not everyone was wearing a mask but there were small groups of impromptu dancers and some scattered musicians. They had the appearance of entertainers who had just come off some kind of travelling troupe but didn’t look out of place. Not like her. Sakura felt underdressed all of a sudden but pushed that anxiety down.

She gently squeezed Gaara’s hand, and he immediately steered them to a path that would lead away from the festivities. Like the interconnected paths she imagined it also led to the thoroughfare. But they didn’t get a chance to use it. There was a cry of something that sounded like frustration and excitement to her right and Sakura stiffened as a clearly very drunk civilian came stumbling as quickly as he could towards them. He made flailing motions with his arms, his face twisted in a grin and nonsensical words on his slurred and unintelligible tongue.

Ugly, rotten teeth. Polished and dangerous.

That peel of laughter wasn’t coming from the drunkard. It was seeping out of the shadows.

Sakura reeled, almost falling over. Gaara held her and she gripped his hand so hard she would’ve broken his sand armour if he’d bothered to wear it. The lights and sounds of the festivities brightened and blinded her. Hazy and screaming. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t ask Gaara for help. She couldn’t do a damn thing.

But true to his promise, Gaara was pulling her to him, flush against his chest. Sand whipped up around them, scaring off the drunkard. Sakura closed her eyes as the Kazekage teleported them away. When her feet hit the ground, she let her head fall forward onto Gaara’s chest. She felt the warmth of his hand on her back as he attempted to soothe her. Face pressed against his chest. Ascending numbers flashing through her mind’s eye. Breathing. Leaning into his embrace. Her body sagged. But she was calming down.

The Shadow is gone.

Sakura lost count of those ascending numbers, not knowing how long it really took for her to come back to herself. But she did. And Gaara moved with her as she pulled away, peering at her. Assessing her. Like he cared. She was learning to love those pale green eyes of his.

Fuck it. Why are you so good to me?

“Why…”

Gaara hushed her as she lost that train of thought. She looked around, realising she did not recognise the area he’d teleported them to. Sakura’s head swivelled around several times as she tried to take in the view. They were in what looked like a forest sanctuary. Or rather the kind of forest that Suna could provide with limited resources. The colour green was everywhere. Gardens. Stone pathways. And a dome nearby that screamed, “there’s a greenhouse inside me!”.

“Where are we?”

“The west gardens,” Gaara said. “This area is out of bounds. Only select individuals are allowed here, and only with my permission.”

More places the Shadow can’t reach.

She felt special. And she loved the place on sight. The foreboding pressure had released, and Sakura suddenly felt lighter than air. “Okay, give me a tour,” she said, not having to force her face to smile.

Gaara nodded, gently taking her hand once more. She soaked it all in as they walked along the path and he explained what she was seeing, in that simple but intelligent way of his. On paper, his words would sound clipped, but they came out so serene and husky that Sakura found herself hypnotised by them.

His voice.

She sighed. They found a bench and she let go of his hand before lowering herself onto it. She felt very nervous as Gaara sat beside her. Inches apart. She couldn’t decide which was worse: the way her libido occasionally went into overdrive around him or her current uncomfortable feeling like she was some virginal teenager who didn’t know how to behave in her own skin.

A shock of light and sound. Sakura whipped her head to the side in time to see an explosion of fireworks. She jumped to her feet quickly and scanned the horizon. Gaara stood and mimicked her pose.

“I forgot about that,” he said slowly, and she understood. This was a rare occurrence. Which meant she didn’t want to miss it.

Sakura took his hand and pulled him along as she raced towards it. Still in the gardens, they found the edge of the gardens that overlooked a significant portion of the village and she let herself fall backwards onto the grass. Gaara chuckled as he lay next to her. They had a great view of the fireworks erupting above the village.

They lay next to each other silently, just watching, leaning back on their elbows, and just enjoying the company. Eventually, the fireworks began to die down and, even though there was no hint of it on the horizon, Sakura was sure the sun wouldn’t be far away.

“Thank-you,” she said softly.

“You’re welcome.”

The stars twinkled. The blackness unable to mask their delight. She smiled at that observation. Sakura wanted to just lay here forever. Forget the Root shadow. Forget Danzo. Forget the council and Sajō and whomever it was that was colluding with the usurper Hokage. She just wanted to lie next to Gaara and forget the world. Or maybe she was more worried about getting too comfortable. The night was very, very late. She suppressed a yawn and had to physically stop herself from just flopping onto her back, in fear she’d fall asleep here and never wake up. Gaara, on the other hand, looked well rested. Or just not tired. Whichever.

She turned her gaze back to the stars. The blinking contrast between sparkles and darkness reminded her suddenly of her ink creatures. The light against the black ink sky. The way they seemed to fight each other for dominance. Yet nothing changed.

For almost a month, Sakura had been trying to find her way. Either a way out of the village or a way out of her own head. A path forward, made of the same stones as the ones in these gardens. And definitely not populated by the noisy nighttime carousers. But now, lying next to Gaara and wondering what this night would mean for their non-relationship, Sakura knew suddenly what to do. It was so very clear now.

She sat up straight and turned to face her fake fiancé turned real date, surprising him. He mirrored her movements, openly curious.

“Gaara,” she said. “I made ink creatures.”

Curiosity turned to confusion on his face. “Creatures?”

“Yes, chakra infused creatures made of ink.”

He quirked an eyebrow at her but remained silent.

“They’re hiding in my bathroom right now,” she added, knowing how weird that sounded.

“Why?”

“Why did I make them or why are they hiding?”

“Both.”

Sakura sighed. “I don’t think it’s a surprise that I didn’t choose to come here. Not under my own volition, anyway.” He nodded. “I… have wanted to leave the moment I arrived.” He didn’t look surprised. “The past few years all I could think of was getting away from Danzo. Especially the last six months, with him sending me on suicide runs.”

Gaara’s eyes widened. “He–”

“Let me get this out, please?”

He nodded again.

She cleared her throat. “I’m an idiot though. Every chance I got to get away, I squandered. Every moment in which I could slip away unseen, I freeze like my life depends on it. On my last mission I almost did leave. I saw the Konoha gate come up as I approached… it was so achingly familiar but alien at the same time. Everything about the Leaf is so… wrong, now. I wanted to get away from it. But I didn’t. Couldn’t bring myself to.” She sighed. “I guess I’m just as useless–”

“Stop.” Gaara scowled at her. “Don’t say that.”

Sakura hadn’t answered his question yet, but he suddenly didn’t seem to care. He rose to his knees and took her hands in his. They were warm and safe and not what she would’ve thought possible. Not for her.

“Sakura…” he trailed off for a moment. “it’s called self-sabotage. People do it to themselves, for years at a time even. It doesn’t make them useless. Or stupid. Or any other thing you’re thinking about yourself right now. None of that is true. I… spoke with a civilian therapist,” he said quickly, and she realised her surprise must’ve registered on her face.

A civilian therapist?

“I know what you’re talking about,” she said. “Its clinical term is Behavioural Dysregulation.”

It was a conscious (or unconscious) habit of doing things that were bad for oneself. It didn’t take a degree in clinical psychology to have heard of it, she supposed. Sakura had done quite a lot of reading on that subject, and similar, before everything went to shit. Lady Tsunade had wanted to begin incorporating mind healing into Konoha’s medical training facility.

Sakura gave a sad smile at that memory.

“Do you think…” Gaara cleared his throat. “You’d talk to one too? About… everything.”

Sakura pulled a face. “I don’t think a civilian would understand.”

The one Tsunade had proposed would’ve included both civilian and ninja therapists, though.

“Right.”

She watched Gaara closely as he released her hands and turned his head away. What he was looking at, she couldn’t tell. But his silence had an air of disappointment and contemplativeness to it.

Well, this sucks.

“I created them to scout out the village.”

He looked at her sharply.

At least he’s looking at me now.

“So, I could see the weakness in the guard patrols and escape.”

“Have you?”

She shook her head. There was no relief on his face, only contemplation. And… was he curious about them?

She decided to presume he was. “You want to see them?”

“I’m curious.”

Sakura flushed. “O-okay.”

They stood quickly and awkwardly. For a moment, neither of them moved, but then the warmth of his hand enveloped hers; his free arm snaking around her waist and holding her tightly. Gaara teleported them directly into her bedroom. Sakura trembled lightly as her feet hit the floor, but whether from nerves or the return of her libido she wasn’t sure. Her skin tingled, so maybe it was excitement. She pulled out of his grip quickly.

“Wait here,” she said and Gaara obeyed. She rushed into the bathroom and low and behold, the bird and snake were still holding onto the carcass.

Snake, she thought. I’ll call the ink snake ‘snake’ and the real, dead one ‘serpent’.

But the question that she needed to answer, and quickly before Gaara grew impatient, was whether or not to bring both. Sakura still wanted to keep secrets from him. She liked him. She trusted him. But she also didn’t trust her faith in him. Some things she just didn’t want to share.

But I told him I made creatures. As in, plural.

She sighed. She could always make more, anyway.

“Let go of the carcass,” she said softly, hoping Gaara didn’t have superhuman hearing. The ink bird released its hold while the snake curled its body for a moment, tightening the hold like a child refusing to behave. Then it was releasing it, dropping the carcass carelessly.

As she stood up, Sakura caught the reflection of herself in the bathroom mirror. It was very different to the underfed and ghastly image she’d seen the last time. She paused then smiled and turned away.

“Come on,” she told them, and the bird hopped along the floor after her. The snake seemed hesitant, and Sakura wondered if maybe she’d done something wrong.

She reached down to grab it, and it quickly wrapped its body around her arm gently as she left the bathroom. The bird twittered as it followed and then screeched at the sight of Gaara. He raised an eyebrow at it. Sakura had no idea it could do that. It didn’t have a syrinx, or any kind of noise making membranes, in its windpipe or otherwise. She wondered if it was just because of her. Sai had never mentioned anything about his creations having the ability to make noise, let alone having personalities.

I’m cracked so they are too.

It made no sense, but she supposed it didn’t matter.

It’s probably all just in my head.

Gaara watched them curiously. Sakura watched him nervously. He made no reaction to the noises the bird was making so she decided it was just all in her head. Even if he did twitch slightly when it went to peck him. Fake birds were not faster than a Kazekage. She decided to give him a rundown of her intentions with the creatures. He listened with rapt attention and Sakura found herself becoming more and more excited that someone was hearing this. Finally. She was rambling but it was kind of fun to have someone else to share this with.

“You used them to scout the village perimeter?” He asked when her rambling finally came to an end.

Sakura nodded, unable to stop the flush from heating up her neck. Was it okay that she’d done that? Probably not. But he didn’t seem put out. Maybe he was thinking about how it could help with that councillor? Or the entire council. Or maybe it was just her wishful thinking.

“What will you do with them now?”

So much for him thinking of this strategically.

“I want to help you.”

Gaara stood and walked over to her. He stopped inches in front of her. The movement could be confused with an attempt to intimidate her, but she knew he wouldn’t do that. Instead of trying to stare her down or talk her out of it, he reached out and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. The small part of her that still responded to romantic and kind gestures was weak at the knees right now. Not the rest of her. Just the girlish side. She swallowed heavily, overwhelmed with gratitude.

“Okay,” he said finally.

“Okay?”

He smiled. “Okay.”

Sakura laughed. “Okay.”

The way he was looking at her… she desperately wanted to kiss him. Or for him to kiss her. But she knew he wouldn’t. Gaara would not presume such a forward action. He was poised. He was a gentleman. But gods did she want him to toss that aside and just fucking snog her. Maybe get in a few gropes and pelvis grinding.

Sakura forced herself to relax, realising she’d tensed up the more she contemplated the idea of Gaara pressing her against the wall. He didn’t look fazed by her weird demeanour. The snake tightened itself around her arm for a moment, but she ignored it. It wasn’t important. Trying to figure out whether or not to grab the Kazekage and pull his face down to meet her in a soul-searing kiss was important.

She cleared her throat.

“It’s late,” he said suddenly. “I should go.”

There was a flush on his face she’d overlooked in her internal musing. She was proud of herself for that. But her stomach clenched at the thought of letting him leave right now. She nodded though. It was very late. They were both going to be sleeping in a little longer in the morning.

All that does is make me wonder what he looks like first thing in the morning. Fuck.

What were the protocols here? Kiss him on the cheek? On the mouth? Make-out heavily then act like it was no big deal? Pepper him with kisses along his jawline, down to his neck and… fuck.

Focus.

Gods. Her libido again. She wanted to give into it so bad. But Gaara wasn’t moving, and she had to make a decision. She decided to just go with a peck on the cheek. It could be excused away much easier. Sakura stood higher to peck his cheek softly but couldn’t bring herself to pull away once her lips touched him. The warmth of his skin, the bright tinging of his ears; he was as excited as she was. That’s what she told herself. Why else would her lips against him make him blush?

Maybe I could…

She took a chance and turned her face towards his. They were closer than they’d ever been, now breathing in each other’s air. Sakura remained on her tiptoes. Gaara lowered his head slightly, but not far enough.

Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it.

When he licked his lips, she knew. Sakura tilted her chin up, angled her head to keep from knocking their noses together and pressed her lips to his softly. Their eyes closed at the same time. She parted her lips to envelop his then tugged on his bottom lip gently before pulling away completely. At the last moment, he’d opened his mouth slightly in a gasp.

No tongues were used in the making of this fucking perfect first kiss.

It was a chaste way to the end the night and despite her body wanting, no demanding more, she maintained their newfound distance, pressing a hand against his chest as they both recovered from it. Gaara had responded to her kiss, albeit in a small way. That was enough. She would continue this with him later, now that she knew he wanted her as much as she wanted him. It was late and she was suddenly very, very tired.

After a few moments, he hastily repeated his goodbyes in that cool but cute bumbling way she’d learned to love and left.

She smiled widely. For the first time for a long time, Sakura could say she was profoundly happy.

.:.

[shmorp-mcdurgen]

Two boys.

Two little boys were staring up at Seth, one in anger and the other pure fear.

They looked young, really young, but still older than Sarah was. The maybe blond boy started to growl and bare his teeth when Seth took a step closer, causing the man to freeze. Okay, a feral child. Good to know.

The feral kid was covered in dirt, dried blood, and freckles, piercing blue eyes glaring from behind his matted locks of hair. Scratches and scars were spread all across his body, barely concealed by the scraps of clothes he was wearing.

Behind him was a bigger boy, with tan skin and black dyed silver hair, who was shaking in unadulterated terror, eye wide and fearful. The kid’s right side was covered in what looked to be burn scars, taking his eye and leaving a hole in his cheek so you could see his gums and clenching teeth.

The sight made Seth’s heart crack a little. Seeing kids be put through shit like this… it fucking sucked.

Weighing his options as he raised his hands in a non threatening gesture, the man stopped making eye contact with either boys to try and soothe their fear and fury.

The horde was still coming closer, him seeing the first of the bunch just before spotting these two. They weren’t going to survive something like that on their own, young as they seemed to be. Plus, he had to be back with Sarah by five. He’d promised.

Seth decided to offer the boys sanctuary while the horde passed, it probably wouldn’t take more than a few days to disperse, and he’d be able to pick off the stragglers.

“...Hey there, kiddos…” The feral boy growled again, a small whimper coming from the scared boy in tandem. Softening his voice the best he could, Seth kept talking.

“I’m not gonna hurt you two, okay? My name’s Seth, I live a bit away from here with a little girl called Sarah. Now, you don’t have to say yes, but I was wondering if you wanted to join us for a bit, at least till the horde that’s headed this way passes us by.”

Continuing to snarl, feral boy took a step forward before scared boy stopped him, whispering something Seth couldn’t make out. It seemed to calm him down though, judging from how his growls turned into just a ferocious glare.

Standing straighter, scared boy nodded very minutely, saying something in a shaky and quiet voice. “...’m Jo-Jonah… that’s Adam… he-he’s my broth-rother…”

“Jonah and Adam.. nice names you two.. We should probably go on our way before it starts getting dark.” Getting an idea, Seth took off his backpack and moved the things out of the main zipper to the other pockets. “Here, I can carry the both of you in here pretty easily. I won’t close it, I promise.”

Jonah visibly hesitated before taking Adam’s hand and going a step closer, relaxing when a rumble came from Adam’s throat and Seth smiled reassuringly. The scared boy stepped into the bag, his brother sniffing at the fabric before climbing in with him, continuing to glare at Seth as he sat curled on Jonah’s lap. 

Huffing in amusement, Seth put the backpack on, careful not to jostle the precious cargo too much. “Aaaannnnnd we’re off.”

The man moved into a jog of sorts while he calculated the quickest route back, one that would hopefully take less than thirty minutes. 

A practically clawed hand suddenly pulled at Seth’s bun, a grunt of pain escaping his throat from the action as Jonah began to whisper shout. “..Adam n-no..!”

Life was definitely going to get interesting. Seth hopes Sarah won’t mind the very likely chaos.

[two brothers, one an anxious mess, the other a feral creature. seth will def have his hands full]

Feral child-

Good think Seth has good patience-

[teeelsie-posts]

I'm late to the party but so many exciting WIPs! Any in that list about our favorite archer?

Almost all of them!

Against the Wall (I answered this, here)

Crack (of the Bat):  This came from a prompt on the AvengersKink (I really miss that) that said:  SHIELD participates in an annual baseball tournament against the CIA, NSA, FBI, etc. The competition is heated, with major grudges between the different organizations and honor on the line. After the discovery of SHIELDRA, the other agencies obviously think SHIELD's out of the competition, but the loyal members of SHIELD show up . . . and so do members of SHIELDRA. Some of them have been on the baseball team for a decade or more! They're not going to give up now! SHIELD and SHIELDRA have to act as one team if they want to win, but they can't leave their grudges off the field.

What I have drafted is pure silliness, and the “Crack” in the title is a double entendre for sure.  Every year in October I open it up and poke at it a bit, but it’s never gone very far and as we get father away from CA:tWS I feel like it’s less relatable so, it’s unlikely to see the light of day.  But here’s a snippet that makes me giggle:

“Strike ONE!”

“What are you, blind!” he yells as he swings around to come face to face with an eye patch.  “Uh…”

“You have something to say, son?”

He clears his throat.  “With all due respect, sir, I don’t think that was a strike and you, uh… you only have one eye?” The last couple of words peter out into a squeak.

“Do you know who that is on the pitcher’s mound?” Fury gestures with his chin, but keeps his eye riveted on the batter.

He glances toward the mound where the pitcher is wearing a shit-eating grin.  “He doesn’t look familiar, no.”

“Aw, man!  Really?”

“Can it, Hawkeye!”

“Hawkeye?  You mean, the guy with the bow?”

Barton waggles his eyebrows.

The batter sighs.  “Yeah, okay, strike one.”

Falling Timestamps—Flinch:  This is what it sounds like…a timestamp for my fic Falling Off the Face of the Earth, where Clint and Bucky are working on Clint’s farmhouse and Bucky accidently moves quickly and causes Clint to flinch, which resultes in double angst.

msraven remix:  This is a fic inspired by msraven’s fic: Nothing I Wouldn’t Do, where Phil asks Clint (who secretly loves Phil) to have sex with him to practice because he’s going to go out with recently resurrected Steve. That fic is Phil POV, and I asked msraven for permission to remix it from Clint’s POV because the ANGST, omg!  I never got very far with it though…

safeword: This is a winterhawk fic where Bucky is into BDSM but Clint isn’t but Clint goes along with it because he is into Bucky and what’s a little pain?  He’s had worse, he can handle it. I could never make this work with Bucky’s background, and then once I started writing over in DC, I ended up writing this fic as Jay/Dick which I think worked much better (it’s here, if anyone is interested).

Sins (part 2) – Someone commented on my fic Sins of the Father that a second chapter with another conversation between Clint and Tony pre-Endgame battle—now that Tony is a father—would be interesting. I was immediately inspired and I actually have it largely drafted and if I just clean it up, maybe I’ll post it someday.

spinning wheels: This is a post Raft-breakout fic where Clint and Steve start a friends with benefits thing in Wakanda and then catch feelings.

unhealthy coping mechanisms: I think this is the first Avengers fic that ever came to me and I’ve poked at it for years but its long and complicated.  Post-Avengers, Clint is self-punishing and because reasons, he finds that outlet via a BDSM relationship with Tony, Clint hates every minute of it, which is exactly what he wants. Tony, being Tony eventually figures out what Clint is doing.  Lots of angst and feels and eventually Phil comes back and…hopeful ending.

WQ (part 2) (already answered, here)

Not sure which if any of these will see the light of day. *shrugs*. Thanks for the ask @jinxquickfoot 😘

[hildegardladyofbones]

favorite movies / shows ? (:

sorry for the late response, but i took this too seriously and started going through notes and diaries to find lists

Movies:

Idioot (2011) by Rainer Sarnet. It's an adaptation of dostoyevsky's "the idiot" and it's one of the few movies i can actually call underground, because i've yet to met anyone besides my mom whose actually seen it. I don't like it because of that though, i like it because all of it is shot in a church (even the outdoor scenes) and the ending has gay undertones. it's arthouse, what else do you expect?

Amelie (2001) is one of the few romance movies i like because it's super sweet and has very interesting visuals. and also i saw it before i knew i was aroace so i didn't care about whether or not i like romance.

Knives out (2019) has super cool visuals and also very cool foreshadowing. definitely a movie i watched an explanation of later. not THAT deep though, like you get the message before even finishing it.

Tank Girl (1995) is a fucking comedy and apocalypse masterpiece and no one will convince me otherwise. I do not care about if it's accurate to the comics at all. it's just pure, unfiltered, 90s action. with implied lesbians.

In tandem with the last movie comes Bad Girls (1994), even though this one is a bit less goofy (it does not have kangaroo-man hybrids)

Kill your darlings (2013). i don't even care about the gayness, they went ham with the poetry references. like they explain a technique in poetry and then do that same thing in the movie? fucking beautiful. the soundtrack is also so unique. i could go on about this movie forever.

Birds of Prey, or the fantabulous emancipation of Harley Quinn (2020) is like all of those other superhero action movies, but this time it's For Girls (tm) and i LOVE it because of that. idec about action movies in general, that one just Gets It. Margot Robbie OWNS Harley Quinn for me

speaking of feminist action movies, Mad Max Fury Road (2015) is amazing. it has one of the most unique colour palettes i've seen, because of how much contrast there is. Surprisingly condensed, the action is not spread out at all, gets straight to the point. Also it has like no romance at all.

Shows:

Hannibal (2013-2015) is my number 1, no competition. It's a rom com, it's a thriller, it's horror, it's whatever you want it to be. not gonna say too much, becuase i want you to experience its glory first hand.

pushing daisies (2007-2009) is whimsical, light hearted, fairy-tale like, fluffy, etc. basically the opposite of hannibal, even though both of them are made by Brian Fuller. fun fact: it has the only straight romance i actively root for. they're also asexual because i said so.

I am not okay with this (2020) is another one of those movies you only see in those lists of shows that netflix ended too soon, because it did. it's like netflix said "wait it has LESBIANS? we can't have THAT" which is a shame, because it's a masterfully crafted allegory for grief and depression. and as if THAT wasn't enough, it parodies while ´imitating an 80s high school movie, which gives it this cool aesthetic of the modern day mixed with the 80s.

Over the garden wall (2016). Wirt is a very accurately written teen who i want to be friends with SO BAD, and Greg is somehow even more accurately written because my sister is roughly the same age as him and they are basically the same people. It goes pretty hard with the historical influences, the soundtrack fits it so well and the story is very sweet. i recommend it 👍

Hope i didn't burden you with my ramblings too much, i don't even have an excuse. thanks for the ask tho, i had fun

[ambient-anemoia]

Sleep has been hard to come by lately.

The first sign that things are getting bad is when my sleep schedule flips on its head. I sleep all day and stay awake all night, only seeing the sun for maybe an hour or two at most. My daily life is carried out in darkness.

Over the last few days I seem to have ascended from this into some new unholy dimension of insomnia. I sleep for a couple of hours, stay awake for a few more, then sleep again and so on. Whether it's day or night is completely irrelevant. It's like the Pomodoro technique (we were taught that in school, though I suppose you never went to school so you wouldn't know about it- work for an hour, take a break for 15 minutes, work, break, work, break, work, break... you get the idea). I can fall asleep maybe 4 to 6 times in a single day.

Of course I'm not actually getting any rest by sleeping this way. Even when I crashed and slept for six hours instead of the planned two, I still felt like I had just been hit by a train when I woke up. The nightmares didn't help (I don't remember them too clearly, something about being burnt and having no way to treat the wounds).

We have been fighting a lot more lately (though not physically, which is surprising given my track record). You told me I should get rid of you, that I'm only staying in Outer Space because I'm terrified of making a change and I might as well go back to the Inner World since I obviously prefer it there. I didn't really know how to argue back. I'm confused because I know I don't really care about you (how could I, you're not me) but the thought of getting rid of you troubles me. Is it just a fear of change? Is it because I know damn well I'll never find another victim who puts up with the abuse as well as you do? Is it because I stayed here for so long that I became an entity of Outer Space myself? I belong in the Inner World as much as you do now.

I don't know. I thought for a brief moment last week that we could be happy together, even in this monochrome hell. That was before I went to see him, though. It's not his fault (he's a victim too, he never wanted any of this) but I lose a little bit more of my humanity every time I go near him. My obsession is like a pit of black tar that I'm slowly drowning in. I can feel the black, viscous liquid squeezing its way into every orifice of my body, filling up my internal organs, blocking out the light above me. I'm terrified to lose him, but even more terrified of myself knowing full well what I'd do to keep him.

What should I do? Persist, or run away? Staying here will only destroy you and drive me even more insane, but I'm running out of places to run to.

I miss your predecessor. Buried deep in the eye of the swirling storm of violence and hatred and desperation that batters the inside of my skull, he was the one thing in my life that was genuinely good. He was kindness incarnate, Hope at the bottom of Pandora's infinite pitch black box, pure and perfect and so gentle it was painful. He would have known what to say, what to do, how to soothe me, how to save you.

But he was devoured by the horrors and now there's nothing here but sorrow and anguish and fury and horror and despair and terror and regret and jealousy and suffering and paranoia and brutality and pain and pain and pain and pain and pain and pain and pain and pain and pain inflicted and received it never ends it never ends the violence never ends the violence never ends the violence never never NEVER NEVER NEVER NEVER NEVER ENDS

I need to sleep.

[celestialmancer]

Mm.

Therapy has been. Interesting.

Bit more of a sensitive discussion so def tbd but yeah ;; (‘s not meant to be negative but like. Considering content well)

Been ruminating a bit, I guess, on something that we talked about, & its in particular this whole… element of just…

I guess at some point my therapist was talking to me about what I would do if I were to ever cross paths with M again, because I did acknowledge openly to her that I do in some way always have that sort of fear in the back of my head of his return—which, yeah, it is irrational considering its been 11+ years now since all that shit went down but… I mean, its part of why every now & then I admittedly will look back on the fucking twitter accounts that he used to have that are now. Well, dead & everything that was on em (which wasn’t much to begin with aside from… things I don’t wanna say on this blog) being wiped. Save for one indirect rt that was meant to be in ref to me that still makes my skin crawl to see, ig.

…& Well… I p much just told her straight up that I wouldn’t even let him talk to me. & Even if I did, the only thing that would happen is pure vitriol, pure unrestrained violence, I guess. Verbal I suppose since no way we’d cross paths irl, & hope to the heavens above it forever remains that way that there’s no way of reaching me irl… unlike how he almost did all those years ago? Yeah. I guess there’s an acknowledgment that beneath all the hurt there’s this INTENSE fury, anger, & I guess wish I could have fought back better or something. I don’t know.

Granted, there’s another sort of reaction i feel i would have if i crossed paths w him again but like—its. More. Morbid.

…& We also. Got into talk about the possibility of me potentially going out of my way to get ig some sort of assistance legally or w/e, to see if by any chance, he ever did happen to… post… things that I don’t wanna really say bc tw content (though, if you catch on to what i might be avoiding directly stating, well… ) but, yeah. & i’ve just been I guess mulling on that, dwelling on it.

…But realistically I think I’m better off not knowing. What he did with what he had of me before I got away. I’d rather not. Know. What corner of the internet that stuff was posted, I don’t think I’d be able to be fine if I ever did find out. Sure, it eats at me tot hink that that’s out there, because I know he’s the type to have gone forward with it & just it being without my awareness once I severed that line… but what can you do right?

Idk. Probably strange to say but i guess i find more closure in just… accepting that it probs is out there, not looking for it, & instead moving forward & healing what I can after all that. ‘S what I’ve tried doing & still am doing to this day, now that I excavated those memories & have to work through them after a literal decade of running from it all, but… I guess, at least, its getting easier in a way to talk about despite the hurt? Idk.

We still have more sessions to go surrounding the topic of M, & more graphic stuff to cover bc we still are only scratching the surface of the… more disgusting details of all that, & I know none of these upcoming sessions are going to be easy. It’s been really taxing mentally & ik im still kinda outta it from yesterday’s session esp bc at the start of it it was hard to tap into that headspace of revisiting all that, but—gotta keep it pushing I suppose.

We’ll… get through this.

& I guess amidst this, working on stuff certain characters in writing (esp a certain one whose based in my own trauma in a way) has also been a means of ig finding catharsis. Having em meet their own downfalls or w/e or having ppl rally against em or so on while also them liking my writing/expressing support w my writing & such has helped? With sort of revisiting this all… Which honestly holds a lot of personal weight to me that ive been met w that rather than being shunned over the exploration of this shit so, yeah…

[hospitalterrorizer]

diary60

11/10-11/2023

friday - saturday

a worrisome day.

today began okay. i don't remember my dream. no, i do, another one about vacation, this time, in the desert, on the way to some kind of theme park, in an ugly little town, an ugly little rollercoaster, a sideshow attraction, it turned out to be where we were headed, and in a family restaurant stuck to the attraction, we sat, plastic from 1991, graphics from 1991, it reminded me of all the old mcdonald's playplaces, it made me feel dirty. the car felt impossible and fast, we were a bullet along the desert, it used to be an ocean floor, i thought about that, the coaster had an aquatic theme. fast like crashing waves, maybe something about tsunamis. orange-red letters fly across a wave, the graphic that advertised it. i was there, an amalgam of a family, all the one's i've had, my gf's mom, my father, my extended family in all circles met in a center i don't ever want to see materialize, and i felt trapped all over again. i really have been traumatized by travel i think. it's good for your soul, but i go to these ugly places, my dreams absorb new terrain, but it all makes me sad. all i can say is oh well, tonight's only made me sad, i say oh well, i hope by the end of everything i will be there laughing, like my friend was tonight, after sobbing, in fury i think, about a man she's served at work came in and kept asking about her breasts. she couldn't say anything, her coworkers didn't do anything. i was wishing the whole time i was hearing that i heard, and that if i heard, i would do something. but what if i didn't, i could be a coward, apparently everybody's a coward, it's 90% of the world. that makes me want to kill myself. i don't want to be a coward, and i never want to have to prove i'm not, because i don't want the world to be bad, but the world is bad. we are on a cursed star. i don't think it's possible to say otherwise.

first tonight, was the breast themed birthday party. it was sad, the woman turned 26, she got very drunk, natural i guess, a 35 year old alcoholic in denial because she only gets wasted socially and every day is social and every day is a party and begging for shots is just fun and not a suicidal urge making itself a joke like everyone's trained themselves to do, kept asking everyone to take shots. she entered the room, and said: shots, i think it's time for shots. it was like a cartoon. she does this all the time. the woman who was being celebrated, she had a shambolic casual sex situation she was trying to handle, the man saying he can't anymore, while still showing up to the party, showing some kind of interest still. maybe he just really wants to be friends, and wants things to be pure between them. i hope that's the case, i don't want more men to be evil. at the same party, a 35 year old man who had been evil to a 26 year old woman, not the same one celebrating, another, were both there, and he alone and she with friends, all hating him silently. we don't know how he was evil. it just makes me sick knowing, distantly, that it was something unforgivable. all the people kept partying, i got upset at my girlfriend as she got very drunk, and got handsy, and wouldn't listen to me, i asked her to not scream my name during the part of the night where they judged breasts and she screamed my name for the nip slip award or whatever (the award being tiny and plastic and useless). she says no one cares, i saw people staring but less than that, i asked her not to, but she did, that still upsets me, even after this pretty long night, it still sticks under the skin. i wish she didn't, how hard is it to respect me even a little. i know she does, so i'm just being dramatic. everything just makes me sick now. i got to see our couple friends, they were very nice, and happy to be with us, we chatted shit about the people there. i said loudly, to one: these people don't care about me. and i said loudly, at the room: these poet-artists don't care about me, or anyone, i am invisible and i could be crushed like an insect, i am here to be crushed, no one cares, no one hears or sees. no one heard or saw. i know outbursts like that only make people uncomfortable. something is wrong with me and i kept doing it tonight. maybe i'll remember more to say about the party tomorrow. the celebrator touched my arm weird, in pulses, sadly i think. people said i was pretty, because i think they thought i didn't want to go up out of shame, and not because i just know i didn't want to. anyway, maybe more on this tomorrow.

we went to a rave. the music upset me, until a certain point. all the same, all minimal techno and hard to the point of being a grey 90 degree angle, and the same forever, until a song came on everyone recognized, and they posed a little and whatever. there was a dog, there was a baby. they are important. the dog was ugly but beautiful, the baby was sad. we met my other friend there, he made a joke about wanting to kick the bassist out of his band, but i wanted it to not be a joke. it's so much to put in writing. i am so tired. i will try and journey fully, for nobody, myself only. i couldn't hear that well, i put earplugs in, the music doesn't matter, only the people matter, so i hovered around them as much as possible, just talking, everything was important but i like those secrets. at one point, i ran off, around the corner, i stood on the corner watching some cars, i think i must have looked like a lady of the night, a car stopped on the corner, a stop sign, for so long, i can't fathom why other than to hope maybe i would come over or something. obviously i didn't. a guy on his bike did a double take at me, i think to figure out whether or not i have a cock. my gf and my friend's gf but also our friend and her friend and you know, came around the corner, i ran off again and triggered this thing to go off, like, an alert, a woman's automated voice rang into the night that we were being monitored in a restricted area.

when we came back, we lingered outside, and i was leaning against this shutter door thing. a woman in a crop top came out, super low rise jeans too, and was flirting with a man, her friend with her flirting with another. crop top produced a bag of drugs, did a keybump. i kept saying, oh my god she has drugs, she did drugs off a key, oh my god, god and jesus and her dad and mom and the cops and earth saw and knows forever. over and over again. i don't know why. it was funny. later on, we got to a long discussion about the bass player, my friend wasn't there, only the other friend who is his lover and my gf and myself. saying basically: he is a guy only in a band to get laid, he wants to be the face of the band, he doesn't even want to play bass anymore really, his ego is huge. just all kinds of shit. then we left, with our friend. we talked to him about it in the car, we talked to him about it in the restaurant. basically, he doesn't know what to do, he doesn't know the bassist well even, he doesn't understand him fully, other people feel how we feel even, and my friend is also totally disengaged with the band, he's become bored with it, and he feels like after this, he'll never do another one again. i hope that's not true, i want him to just be happy again though, with music, and if maybe giving up on band stuff would help him, then whatever. but he is a very good musician, he should be listened to, but isn't, because his bandmates want to stick themselves to an ugly trend rn, of becoming a band that's like deftones kind of. before that though, my gf and our friend went off to this front room, the rave still happening, but this was a warehouse attached to an apartment almost, basically, and the baby was there, and the dog, and what my friend and i saw as we walked to our gfs, was his holding the baby, consoling it while it shrieked, and my gf, weeping, saying this baby is going to have a worse life than she did, and that this is like trainspotting, and weeping. and neither of us knew what to do. the dog was alone with the baby before, protecting it. the mother came eventually, someone who owned the business i suppose, or related to that end of things. it made me want to cry too, i didn't. i felt bad for everything. we saw a white claw in the drink holder part of the baby carriage. the world is very bad.

now i'm home. we ate at a restaurant, talked about things with my friend, he is just very depressed right now, and it's almost like there's not much pulling him out, other than being around people. it's sad that music isn't doing it for him. he is very angry right now too it feels like, i understand, he is like stuck and it's because of others in part, and shedding that weight would be selfish, but maybe that would be best. everyone feels impotent tonight, i feel bad for everyone, i can't help him, or his gf, with simply suffering for being born and being attractive to men, being treated as a place to stuff desire.

i am glad i saw them though, i love my friends. i guess at least something feels nice about knowing we can handle bad times together.

these circumstances could not make anyone happy.

byebye!!!!!

[wonderb0n]

You ask, I deliver. (english is not my first language I’m sorry if there’s any mistakes I hope it’s readable enough)

This rant is something like a copy and paste of a presentation I did once for a ppt night with my friends. The sources are both myths of Eros and Psyche, Hades and Persephone, and all my knowledge of Greek mythology.

So basically, trust me.

Or not, idc it's not that serious anyway.

I will compare both myths according to the topics that I have seen tend to be modified in Hades and Persephone in each rewriting or adaptation that are already existing features of Eros and Psyche.

1.- Female and male protagonists:

Psyche is the third princess of whatever kingdom. Her most notable features in addition to her spectacular beauty are her insatiable curiosity and stubbornly capricious nature. These two are extremely important because they lead Psyche to, first, discover who Eros is and initiate the conflict, and second, fight against all odds, gods and mortals alike to remain by his side. My girl was a stubborn queen and I don't blame her for anything. If my parents left me in the mountains because I knew my value and did not want to marry any mid man fascinated by my beauty, I would also create an initial wall of distrust with this stranger who claims to love me but only comes when it is so dark that I cannot see him.

And this is something that many do not understand about Psyche, she was abandoned by her family for defending her ideals, of course she was going to fall into the manipulations of her wicked sisters, she had deep distrust issues. But then again, this same determination that once condemned her was what not only saved her life and that of her lover, it also earned her the merit of becoming a goddess. It's a complete arc of character development.

Then on the other hand we have Persephone, goddess of spring, daughter of Demeter and Zeus. Now I will emphasize the obvious: Hades is her uncle. We already know that incest was a daily occurrence in greek mythology and that gods do not relate to each other like mortals do but it still bothers me and this is my ted talk so I get to complain about whatever I want.

Persephone was an innocent, benevolent, and delicate young woman who lived comfortably and happily under her mother's eaves, preparing to one day take her place. Now hear me out, I'm not saying she was dumb or weak, nothing of that sort, but she did not have what it takes to defy heaven and earth. Even in her divinity, her whole thing was being soft and gentle. Which is not wrong, it is just different. Furthermore, their circumstances were very dissimilar, there was no reason for Persephone to develop different skills so far-fetched from what her image represented, gods are images after all. She lived comfortably, she was happy, and she had everything she wanted and needed.

I know what many of you are thinking, "that's not true because her mother kept her trapped", "she forced her to be chaste and pure", no she did not, read some real books. The relationship with his mother Demeter will be mentioned in the next point, but for now, I will tell you that this gracious lady was never the manipulative monster they make her out to be. She was ready to fight with teeth and claws for his daughter's wellbeing.

Conclusion: "I want a Persephone who stands her ground, who fights for what she believes in, to achieve her goals and get her man." You want Psyque.

Now the men, this speaks almost for itself. Eros was the god of love and sex, son of Aphrodite, recognized for being one of the most handsome and passionate. His greatest crime was, kind of literally, lying to his mum. Aphrodite felt threatened by Psyche's beauty and wanted her dead, so naturally, he sent his son to kill her. Eros fell in love with Psyche, did not kill her, and returned saying he did to save her from her mother's fury, recognized for being one of the worst among the gods.

When Eros found out that the oracle had told Psyche's parents to banish her to the mountains, he built her a castle there where she would be taken. His initial plan was to give her the palace and remain as he had done until then, observing her in secret. But Psyche, curious, wanted to know who the young man was to whom she owed such a favor. And then, only then, Eros appeared before her. Of course, the only condition was that they would see each other exclusively at night. We all know how that went.

Aphrodite found out everything and imprisoned Eros instead of going for Psyque's head. I will also elaborate more on this mother-and-son relationship in the next point. From now on, the god of love becomes a damsel in distress waiting for the noble knight to come to his rescue.

Hades was the god of the dead and, as such, he was described as a gloomy and unhappy guy, who did not interact with the other gods. Your standard emo boy. Thanks mainly to Disney, we have a very funny and friendly image of Hades (whoa is my hair out and that sort of thing) But the truth is that it wasn't like that at all. He interacted so little with the outside world that even details of his person are unknown (despite being an OC).

There are many variations of this that I will comment on because they are mostly hypotheses, this myth has been so manipulated that it is very difficult to know how to differentiate between the original story and what has been added to it over time unless maybe you are a student of the subject, which is not my case, this is just another of my hyper-fixations.

It is said that Hades saw Persephone walking with some nymphs. He was so fascinated by her beauty and purity that he simply took her with him to the underworld. It is also said, a little more far-fetched, that in greek mythology the same pattern always repeated itself through history. The father is dethroned by his son after he has taken over a fertility goddess (fertility goddesses were those associated with sex, pregnancy, childbirth, and/or crops.) Cronus defeated Uranus, Zeus defeated Cronus, and Apollo must have defeated Zeus. Cronus defeated Uranus, Zeus defeated Cronus and Apollo would have done so with Zeus had it not been for the fact that he acted faster and gave his brother (Hades) the goddess (Persephone) that his son (Apollo) had his eye on.

No matter which story we choose to believe, Hades is still the same selfish god who claims Persephone as his own without any right, taking her from her home, snatching her from her mother's loving arms, and sentencing her (initially) to a life in darkness. It's like taking a flower from a meadow just to plant it in a narrow pot, replacing natural sunlight with the reflection of a kitchen glass.

Conclusion: "I want a Hades so devoted to Persephone that he is willing to go against his family's convictions to be with her, freeing her from her imposed destiny." You want Eros.

2.- Villains, enemies, force of evil, whatever you like to call it:

In this area, both myths have a lot in common, the main villains or enemies of the protagonists are their families, who impose a fatal destiny on them. The difference is in how this topic is covered.

In Eros and Psyche, both are governed by the decisions of their parents and are expected to live up to their expectations. Psyche is expected to marry, and Eros is expected to obey his mother's orders. Since none of them comply with what is established, they suffer the consequences.

Here, more than Psyche's family, the real villain is Aphrodite. Because she is the one who, from the beginning, makes the wheel of history roll by sending his son to murder a mortal. Her selfishness is so immense that she imprisons Eros and sends Psyche to survive the three most difficult tests her mind can conjure, only in the hope that she will die along the way. She is not interested in her son's well-being, nor what he wants, nor does she feel compassion for the love that Psyche professes for Eros. It is the god of love's rebellion against Aphrodite when Psyche dies (actually she simply falls asleep) that finally breaks the spell. Because their love is stronger than all the adversities they have been put through.

Sounds familiar? That's because these same villainous characteristics have been mistakenly given to Demeter in modern adaptations.

In the myth of Hades and Persephone, it is indeed the family that condemns them, since it is Zeus who gives his niece to his brother without the consent of Persephone herself.

Demeter is a passionate mother, who suffered the violence of Zeus when he got her pregnant, taking away the virginity that she protected. For this reason, they try to show her as a manipulative lady who projects her frustrated dreams onto her daughter.

Demeter is a passionate mother, who suffered the violence of Zeus when he got her pregnant, taking away the virginity that she protected. Therefore, they try to show her as a manipulative lady who projects her frustrated dreams onto her daughter. This, however, is not so, Demeter loves Persephone madly, and when she discovers what they have done to her she does not mind condemning the mortal world to starve without crops to recover her. Her fury reaches such an extreme that Zeus must ask Hades to return the other goddess (here is another confusing point, in some versions Hades himself returns Persephone), and that is when the famous pomegranate scene occurs.

No. Persephone does not eat the pomegranate herself. Hades offers it to her for the way back, she does not know the consequences of eating food from the underworld, she is tricked and forced to return !!!! The deal they reach between the gods, of spending six months here and six months there, is to tame Demeter's fury and calm Persephone's anguish. Demeter and Persephone are the equivalent (in their own myth) of Eros and Psyche. Only in their case, they only partially succeed.

Conclusion: "I want Hades and Persephone to fight against all adversity for their love and find in each other their true family" You want Eros and Psyche.

3.- Identity search:

This section is quite short because I have already said a large part of the strong arguments that support these ideas. In all stories, the protagonists' search for identity is important; a character cannot end their great adventure in the same way they began it. The same thing happens with myths, except that due to the same development of the plot, Psyche evolves while Persephone stagnates.

Psyche begins submissively, resigned to the death to which her parents have led her until she decides to take charge and create her own path. Unfortunately, it is another of the aspects that have been given to Persephone under the idea that having grown up under the overprotective mantle of her mother, she has not had the opportunity to know herself or explore her possible divine abilities.

That's not true. Persephone was a powerful goddess and she knew it, she lived unrestrained in the meadow, she was friends with the nymphs, and SHE WAS HAPPY PLEASE UNDERSTAND. Unfortunately, her very strengths were her weaknesses, and her enormous kindheartedness did not allow her to doubt Hades' intentions when he gave her the pomegranate.

Conclusion: "I want a Persephone who discovers herself beyond the limits imposed on her by the world" You want Psyche.

4.- Romantic relationship:

One would think that with everything previously mentioned this would be clear but oh well, here we go again.

I cannot make any comparison here, it is as simple as that Eros and Psyche are the only true couple between both myths. Hades and Persephone never fall in love, it is not a romantic story, the title of the myth is literally "The Abduction of Persephone", in which its protagonist is deceived and mistreated to such an extent that the lesser evil is to stay with her perpetrator. They say that over time she came to like Hades, but at first, her suffering was so immense that with her tears she created the Cyan River. Persephone is sadly a victim, and if you read the myth, you will realize she has no real impact on her own story.

5.- Purpose of the myth:

Hades and Persephone refer to the creation of the seasons, the existence of winter and spring. While Eros and Psyche are, as is, the union between love and soul.

The reason your chest warms, the reason your smile reaches your eyes, the reason bubbles float in your stomach, the reason you give gifts, the reason you seek the comfort of a hug, the reason why you blush, the reason why we mortals can experience the divine joy of loving in our brief time on earth, are Eros and Psyche. There is no other better love story because this is the story of love.

I understand then why they seek to adapt or modify other myths, this one already has everything, there is nothing to change. And truly, it's not bad to want to give Persephone a good ending, at least in these small universes that are our creations. But we must not forget that that is what they are, fiction, and therefore we should not base our entire conception of greek mythology on them.

sigh

the real culprit behind the current misinformation surrounding greek mythology is the mass consumption of altered or adapted content.

our main example being the obsessive fascination with giving to the myth of Hades and Persephone characteristics already existing in the great unfortunately forgotten myth of Eros and Psyche. in this essay I will-