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makeyoumine69 · 3 months

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Call Me Babydoll 5

PAIRING: DBF!Patrick Bateman x Innocent!Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: Patrick stays in your mind even after the disastrous Dorsia incident. Like a song you can't get out of your head, he continues to hum his sultry and sensual words and ways into your ears and heart. When he arrives unexpectedly with a surprise guest, he cannot deny that he is attracted to you. But is this even real?

CONTAINS: Angst, smut, masturbation (f), obsessive behavior, cursing and use of pet names, smoking, gaslighting & manipulation, humiliation & hyperfixation, Daddy kink, making out, marking, biting.

WORDS: 3.5k

A/N: Sorry to make you wait so long, I hope to get in shape soon and post more often!🥰

LINKS: [Ch.4]; [SERIES MASTERLIST]; [MASTERLIST]

Your mind was a complete mess, your heart nothing but glass dust. The echoes of your private conversation with Patrick on the outdoor terrace of Dorsia still lingered in your mind even after you returned home, though you couldn't remember how you made it since you had declined Bateman's offer to take you to your house.

The first thing you noticed when you crossed the threshold of your home was a strong, sweet scent of flowers. It was a familiar perfume that you already hated.

"Y/n? I thought you were already asleep in your room," and there she was - your father's girlfriend named Sophia, meeting you in the hall, smiling mischievously as she caught you doing something criminal. "Where have you been?"

Sophia was a middle-aged woman with Greek roots, she was really a nice person, always so kind and friendly to you, and most importantly - she never tried to replace your mother, for which you were very grateful.

"I had dinner," you replied tiredly as you took off your coat. "Not a good one."

"Ouch…" She gave you a sympathetic pat on the shoulder before continuing. "Don't be sad, honey. You're an incredible person and I'm sure that one day you'll meet the right person." Sophia cheered this, smiling as if her words were a prediction of the future. "With whom you will feel that everything is in the right place."

Sighing, you tried to master something close to a smile. "Thank you, Soph." As much as you wanted to share your worries with her, you couldn't because she could tell your father everything. "I'm so exhausted I could fall asleep right here."

"Go rest," she mused, watching you go upstairs. "Tomorrow your father and I are going to visit my family."

"Good luck with that." You replied before disappearing from her vision.

It was obvious that you wouldn't be able to sleep tonight, thanks to the endless thoughts that looped in your head like a broken record.

Why did you ever think that a man like Bateman could really take you seriously? You felt deceived, embarrassed and madly frustrated, because at the end of the day, Patrick was just playing with you like a toy, twisting you perfectly around his finger.

Fidgeting in your bed, you accidentally recalled the memories of the day he was here - you could still feel the remnants of his hypnotizing cologne as your sheets smelled of him. A lonely tear slid down your cheek, outlining the beautiful shape of your face - now so dull and dejected.

If only you could rewind time and not allow him to get close to you, not even for an inch. Sobbing, you curled up like a kitten, pressed your knees to your chest and tried to drift off, but every time you closed your eyes - his gorgeous face popped up in your mind, making you believe that he really had blessed you with a curse. A curse to be obsessed with the man who would never be yours.

It had been a week since you had seen Bateman, and somehow you had even managed to live through your depression and hide it from your father, although it was quite difficult due to his numerous questions about your sad face and bad mood. At work, some of your co-workers were also trying to figure out what was wrong with you, so you finally decided to take a few days off to relax and get your life back on track.

In the morning of one of those days, you suddenly found yourself writhing on the sheets, breathing heavily and drenched in sweat. With an irritated groan, you threw the blanket aside, accidentally touching your painfully hard nipples.

Oh shit, not again.

Closing your eyes, you didn't even notice that you were dreaming about him for the third fucking time in a row. You let out a muffled gasp as your trembling hand snaked down your belly between your half-opened legs to the center of your desire.

It was just impossible to resist.

"Aww, Daddy," you moaned softly, imagining it was his hand caressing your taut folds. "Please...I need more..."

Embarrassed but absolutely horny, you spread your legs wider, letting your own digits slide along your dripping pussy, and kept picturing his beautiful face as he praised you for being such a good girl for him.

A loud gasp echoed through your room at the memory of his velvety, deep voice, playing in your head as if Bateman was really here, next to you, his hand wrapped tightly around your trembling throat as he wanted nothing more than to bring you to your climax, to see you collapse right before his dark hazel eyes.

"Mmhm, Patrick..." you frowned and shivered, your ministrations growing more impatient as you rubbed circling motions into your throbbing clit while feeling the impending orgasm building in your core. "Patrick, Patrick, please!"

To muffle your obscene moans, you had to bite the pillow next to you as you reached your climax, never stopping to massage your feverish nub.

'You are so naughty, Babydoll. Look at the mess you have made.'

The echo of his sexy voice resounded in your clouded mind, prolonging your intense orgasm and you couldn't help but cradle your breast, only to pinch your hard little tip as you craved more.

But unfortunately, after the haze of ecstasy wore off and you were finally able to think clearly, the bitter realization that it was all an illusion washed over you like a tidal wave, leaving you completely broken. It felt as if you had put all your energy into getting that high, and now you could barely move, feeling satisfied yet devastated.

Over the next few hours, you showered several times and refused to leave your room, no matter how much your father and Sophia tried to convince you. Shame and despair were eating you alive from the inside out, draining all your positive emotions like parasites.

Whenever you tried to distract yourself by reading, you were annoyed by your mind tricks because every character's name starting with the letter P automatically became 'Patrick'.

You hated that man for infesting your mind, body, and soul. Before meeting Bateman, you even thought you were frigid, but now...now you were ready to climb on the walls from the consuming desire to be...possessed? Owned? Marked?

A loud knock at the door interrupted your train of thought and you barely stopped yourself from squeaking - all these days, since you started having nasty dreams with Patirck, you felt like you were doing something bad and someone from your household could catch you. Quickly you approached the door to your room and after unlocking it, you let your vision - which turned out to be your father - in.

"I thought you were taking a nap," he chuckled, but then his face changed when he saw your tired eyes. "Are you sure you're not sick, (y/n)?"

"I'm not sick, Dad," you rolled your eyes and crossed your hands over your chest, ready to be lectured again. "Did something happen? I was in the middle of proofreading."

Your father hummed, tilting his head to the side. "You took a few days off to work at home?"

Scowling with annoyance, you leaned against the door and mumbled: "It helps me relax and clear my head."

"Well, I just wanted to let you know that Patrick is here," you felt the ground disappear under your feet as he spoke. "He came to sign some papers and I thought you might like to join us in the living room. Soph made your favorite apple pie."

This information made your temples ache with tension, and you had to massage them to ease the stabbing pain. "Father, I... I'm not really in the mood for guests."

Especially when this guest was Patrick Bateman.

Your father just sighed and stepped back, which meant he wasn't going to try to convince you. Most of all, you hated to upset your family, even though you didn't want to see Bateman, not after the things that had happened to you during these long, crazy days.

"Okay, okay," you knew you would regret it, but now you didn't see any other option. "I'll be back soon."

With that, you closed the door, feeling the panic rising in your chest. It seemed that your father still thought that you were still on good terms with Patrick, since you had not told him anything about that damn dinner. Trying to pull yourself together, you quickly went to the mirror to freshen up a bit - the fact that you were worried about what Bateman would think of your appearance still bothered you, but there was nothing you could do about it.

Almost fifteen minutes later, you finally came downstairs, wearing a short black top and your favorite tight jeans, and no, you weren't trying to impress him - a little spice wouldn't hurt.

As you approached the living room, you began to hear a cacophony of different voices: your dad's, Sophia's, and another unfamiliar female voice that made you stop in confusion around the corner. Who was that?

"(Y/n), don't be shy, come here." Your father's comment made you frown and bite your lip in embarrassment as you felt like you were transferred back to your childhood.

Taking a deep breath, you stepped into the living room and immediately became the center of everyone's attention. Your eyes quickly found the owner of the unknown voice - a pretty blonde girl sitting next to Patrick with a small notebook in her elegant hands.

Another blonde, huh?

Putting on a friendly fake smile, you managed to hide your frustration and walked closer to the couch to take a seat next to your father, completely ignoring Bateman's intense gaze.

"Uh, this is Jean, Patrick's assistant," your father introduced the blonde girl to you, and she smiled shyly when you raised your eyes to her. "Jean, this is (y/n), my lovely daughter."

"Nice to meet you, (y/n)," Jean murmured and turned to look at Patrick, as if looking for his approval. When he said nothing, she continued. "Patrick has told me a lot about you."

"Really?" You replied skeptically, your hands already crossed over your chest as you desperately tried to keep your composure. "How nice."

Somehow your father managed to notice the growing tension between the two of you, and his little cough caught everyone's attention. "Sorry, my throat gets dry from time to time."

"No need to apologize, Mr. (y/l/n)," Bateman suddenly joined the conversation, causing you to almost jump in your seat. "How about your lovely daughter making us some drinks?" His white-toothed smile was blinding, but you did your best not to react to this provocation.

"Yeah, sure. I'll make them." You stood up quickly, seeing this as a great opportunity to escape.

"Let me help you!" Jean suddenly suggested.

"No no no, you don't have to!"

"Hey, let her help you," Patrick put forward and tapped Jean's knee several times, which you couldn't miss. "It's better not to refuse people's help, because we live in such a cruel world. You know what I mean, (y/n?)"

His smug wink at you made your hands clench into fists, but you decided not to argue with him and just stumbled out of the living room, hearing Jean's soft footsteps behind you.

In the kitchen, the two of you didn't try to strike up a conversation, feeling uncomfortable but not hostile. With casual confidence, you took out two glasses and three cups under the attentive gaze of Patrick's assistant.

"Whiskey for the boys and coffee for the girls," you hummed to yourself, finally glancing at Jean, who was standing shyly in the doorway. "Maybe you want something else?"

"No," she gasped when you asked her. "Coffee is fine."

"Good."

As the blonde woman watched you make the coffee, she came closer and looked around the kitchen. "'Your house is very cozy."

"Thank you," you gave her a warm smile and picked up a silver tray for the cups. "My mother used to love an atmosphere like this," your sudden confession made you stop everything for a moment and Jean noticed your tension. "She would be very touched by your compliment."

The sad undertone in your words made the woman pause and think about what to say next, and you used the moment to get additional things for the coffee, including sugar, cream and vanilla.

"I would only ask you to help me with this," you nodded at the nearly full tray. "And I'll take glasses and a bottle."

"Okay," Jean picked up some napkins before taking a deep breath. "Patrick was right when he said you were a lovely girl."

Frowning, you almost spilled the last cup of coffee when you heard those words. "Uh, I don't understand why you were talking about me at all."

"Well, we talked about you when I made the reservation for your dinner in Dorsia."

An awkward silence hung in the air for some time before you managed to pull yourself together and place all the cups on the shimmering tray. "Mmhm-yeah, that dinner was something, I have to admit," you let out a nervous chuckle, not wanting to remember the events of that evening. "Do you like him?"

"W-what?" Jean blushed almost instantly, her beautiful blue eyes averted from your curious gaze and she had to fix her stray lock of hair behind her ear. "He's my boss, and I like working with him."

"Is he a good boss?"

"Yes, he is."

Satisfied with her answer, you crossed your arms and grinned. "Glad to hear it, I mean seriously," you watched her bat her long eyelashes as you moved the tray over to her. "I think you two look great together."

Exhaling, Jean took the tray and giggled sheepishly. "What makes you think that anyway?"

"I just noticed the way he looks at you," you replied frankly, picking up the glasses. "Thanks for the help. Now I have to get a drink for the boys."

With that, you cast your most sincere smile before retreating from the kitchen, and once you were out in the hall, your face became blank and dull. The things you just said - were they just some kind of masochism? You kept asking yourself as you walked to your father's office, where he kept his favorite drinks that he only served to special guests.

Carefully, with cat-like grace, you touched a doorknob when you noticed that the door was half open. Concerned, you quickly turned around and when you saw no one, you quickly opened it and stepped inside, only to freeze in shock and it was a fucking miracle that you didn't let the glasses fall down on the floor.

Bateman was standing with his back to you, so at first you hoped he wouldn't notice, but as soon as you turned on your heels, the man spun around and the sight of you made him smile mischievously and absolutely charmingly.

"Wrong door?" Patrick chuckled and shifted his position so that you could now see him holding a bottle and a lit cigar in the other hand.

"You can't smoke in my house," you said in an irritated voice. "I'm serious."

"Oh, stop it," his mocking chuckle echoed in your ears, annoying you more and more. "Your father gave me permission. Besides, he told me he had a bottle of J&B, so I decided to take it myself, since you two were very slow."

Having said that, the man puffed on his cigar and blew several rings of smoke, causing you to cover your mouth as you started to cough. The sheer arrogance he radiated was poisonous and somehow suffocating, it was like a tight rope around your neck, no snuff could affect you like that.

"Why did you send Jean with me?"

"And why didn't you answer my calls?" Bateman interjected sternly, closing the distance between the two of you.

The sudden question made you lose your balance for a second. "Calls? What calls? I... I don't even understand what you're talking about."

With a cheeky grin, Patrick took a drag on his cigar and blew right into your face. "Hmmm, let me remember," he leaned against the door and cocked his head to the side. "The one right after dinner, and the one the next day, and the one two days after that."

It was strange, because all these days no one had ever told you about Patrick's calls, and you thought that if he had really made them, your father would definitely have told you, since he wanted you two to get along so much.

"All right, let's pretend that you really did call me, but I can't understand why?"

"You seemed very upset after dinner," the man strove to parry your provocative question, though his eyes glowed with the thrill of the challenge you were giving him. "I just wanted to check on you, since your old man is worried about you too much, and... I didn't need any trouble to close the deal."

Another disappointment.

"Business above all, huh?" No matter how hard you tried to hide the pain, your voice still sounded somber.

"Shhh," his sudden touch on your lower lip caused something heavy to fall in your stomach. "Don't be like that, Babydoll. I'm just doing my job."

"Even now?" You taunted him blatantly, though your panting could be clearly heard in the room.

The sexual tension between the two of you was palpable in the air, but you both remained still, even when Bateman approached your neck to inhale your sweet scent, mixing it with the sharp smell of snuff.

What the hell were you doing?

When Bateman pulled away to place the bottle on the nearby bookshelf, he grabbed the glasses you were holding so desperately that your fingers began to curl. Then the man squeezed the cigar between his white teeth and, with practiced ease, picked you up and carried you to your father's desk. As he set you down on the wooden tabletop, he didn't let you protest, pressing his large palm over your mouth.

"Now, now, little girl," he cooed, exhaling smoke before pulling you a little closer. "C'mere, I'm going to show you something."

Carefully but determinedly, Patrick grabbed your chin and drew you closer so that your mouths were barely an inch apart. Pressing his thumb along your lips, the man forced you to part them, and in the next moment, he blew some smoke into your mouth before sealing it with his own. Intoxicated by both the smoke and Patrick's sudden intrusion, your hands clutched desperately at his broad shoulders, cramping the expensive fabric of his pinstriped suit. After all these days of desperate need for his touch, this kiss was like a sip of water in the desert; it was vital and overwhelming. With every breath you took, Bateman's movements became bolder, less tentative and more demanding; his warm hand slipped under your short top to caress your shoulder blades with feathery strokes that almost drove you to moan against his lips, but you struggled to stop yourself.

"Patrick," you gasped after breaking the kiss. "What the hell are we doing?

"You tell me, Babydoll."

"No, because it was you who told me you didn't want to be a babysitter. Did you forget?"

When you tried to slide off the desk, he wouldn't let you, pressing you closer to his strong body and finally putting his cigar in the ashtray not far from where he was holding you. "I always remember my own words…" With that, he placed both his hands on either side of your knees before moving them slowly up along your hips and God, Bateman was doing it so damn slow on purpose, forcing you to jolt from the strange tension in your lower belly - the feeling that had become your personal drug. "Oh, don't pretend you don't like it. Your body speaks for itself."

You tried to pull away from him as you couldn't stand the way his hazel eyes were stripping you down, but the more you struggled, the more Patrick grew impatient, so he just yanked roughly by your hair, forcing you to tilt your head back and expose your delicate neck, which Patrick didn't miss the chance to mark, biting your tender flesh and then sucking the mark with a muffled groan.

There was something feral about him and that 'something' was making your body respond to his every touch, every little contact.

Nuzzling your cheek, Bateman lowered one of his hands to your bare stomach, drawing invisible lines along it before suddenly cupping your throbbing pussy through the tight material of your jeans, making you squeal and shake on the desk.

Just as Patrick was about to kiss you again, you both noticed a commotion coming from behind the door and then realized it was your father, you both didn't even have a chance to move as the door was quickly opened, revealing a very compromising picture.

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

#american psycho #patrick bateman x reader #patrick bateman imagine #patrick bateman #patrick bateman x female reader #patrick bateman x you #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #slasher x you #slasher smut #patrick bateman smut #patrick bateman headcanon #christian bale smut #christian bale x reader #patrick bateman reader #christian bale #patrick bateman imagines

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daydreaming-nerd · 2 months

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The Bonds That Break Us (Rhysand x Female! Reader) Part 3

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Final Part

Request: "Would you do a Rhysand x fem!reader series? Maybe fem!reader is Rhysand's mate and Tamlin's sister? So secret love?"

AN: thank you so much for all the feedback! I am loving hearing your guys thoughts and I'm having so much fun with this

Summary: It was almost as if the cauldron liked to play games, as if it had sensed years of boredom and predictability and begged to be entertained. Its method of absolving its melancholy? Mate the High Lord of the Night Court to the younger sister of the High Lord of Spring.

Warnings (so far): SMUT (consensual), oral (female receiving), mentions of SA.

Word count: 2730

(all photos are from pinterest)

The following day was another quiet day, and though Rhysand had stayed up with me all night like he promised, I didn’t hear from him in the morning. I avoided my brother at all costs and Lucien as well and spent the morning and afternoon getting ready for the ball at the Autumn Court that would be taking place tonight. I was sure to pick my dress carefully, opting for purple again.

I used to not care for balls, most of the time I would show up and not have anyone to see save for Viviane and Kallias who always had each other to dance with. This of course left me to dance with Lucien or not dance at all. I always left bored and feeling more lonely than I had been before I got there.

I knew tonight would be different not just because of Rhys, but because of Eris. My brother has made it very clear at breakfast that I was to dance and charm Eris all night. The thought made my stomach churn and my eyes water, but I knew better than to disobey.

From the second I walked into the ballroom I could feel Rhysand. The mass of people swirling and dancing around under the gargantuan chandelier made it near impossible for me to find him. I nearly reached out with the bond before my brother grabbed my arm harshly.

“Remember sister, you are to charm Eris whatever means necessary,” he growled in my ear so only I could hear.

“I will, now I’m going to find Viviane.” I glared and sauntered off to do just that.

The ballroom was impossibly packed but finding Viviane’s ice white hair among the crowd was easier than I thought it would be.

“Well you two look amazing,” I beam walking over to where her and Kallias are being wall flowers. Her dress looks like it was made entirely out of frost, and cascades down her body like it was made for her, knowing how Kallias likes to dote on her it probably was.

“Me? Look at you! Purple is your color,” she smiles.

“So, are there any eligible bachelors for me to romance tonight?” I laugh taking her arm and walking around the perimeter of the ballroom with her and Kallias.

“No one worthy of note, but you know how picky I am when selecting a suitable man for you,” she giggles.

“That’s true, you’re a worse critic than I am,” I smile. We promenade around the dancefloor until we run into one of Viviane’s friends and she stops to talk. I take it as my opportunity to glance around the room looking for a particular High Lord and finally I find him.

He’s at the edge of the room wearing black as usual, conversing easily with two Illyrians. Their wings take up most of the space around them. The one with longer hair is obviously drunk as he lets out a laugh that reverberates throughout the room, the one with the shorter hair, swathed in shadows, simply shakes his head and smiles. Rhysand has yet to see me and to draw his attention I give the bond a tug, the first time I’ve ever done it.

His head snaps up in my direction and I see the corner of his mouth curl.

By the cauldron, you are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, my mate.

“Why thank you my lord, I seemed to remember you had a certain affinity for the color violet,” I muse back to him and I swear from this distance I can see his eyes light up.

The Illyrians next to him turn their heads to look at me, the one with the long hair gives me a knowing smirk and I quickly turn my head back to the conversation Viviane is having.

I hear Rhys chuckle in my head, They don’t bite darling. Well Cassian might, but only if you ask him to. He muses over the bond.

“An interesting proposal, I’ll keep it in mind,” I say back trying to hide my smile.

You little minx.

Before I can say anything back I feel a hand on my back, I turn to find Eris there, a hopeful look in his eye. He takes my hand and kisses it in greeting.

“Y/n, what a pleasure it is to have you in our court.” he smiles.

“Of course, my brother and I were very honored to receive an invitation,” I say, trying to sound as chipper as possible.

“You were the first invite we sent, by now I’m sure your brother has told you of my feelings towards you,” he smirks.

“He has brought them to my attention, and I must say I’m flattered,” I smile.

“Might I have this dance?” he asks, my eyes flit to Rhysand for half a second, but it’s long enough that I can see the rage simmering in those violet eyes.

“Of course,” I say, taking Eris’ hand and allowing him to lead me to the dancefloor. His hand spreads over my waist almost obsessively as we waltz around the room.

“You really are quite the sight to behold y/n, I can see why your brother keeps you locked up in the Spring Court,” Eris praises me.

“I regret that he does so, if I had been allowed out more I would’ve found out much sooner how amazing of a dancer you are,” I smile flirtatiously.

“Among one of my many talents my dear, though you’ll find out soon enough about those,” he whispers in my ear.

We dance on and on swirling about the room to the music. From the corner of my eye I can see Tamilin and Beron watching the two of us and for the first time in a long time Tamlin almost looks happy. However it’s not long until I see his eyes catch on to a beautiful brunette that seems to grab all his attention. My skin starts to buzz again and it isn’t long until a large hand claps Eris on the shoulder.

“Mind if I cut in?” Rhysand asks Eris smoothly. His words say one thing but his eyes look at Eris like he would cut off his hands or other important body parts if he were to say no.

“Of course,” Eris says, passing me off to Rhysand and taking his leave.

“You’re going to get me in trouble,” I snap at him.

“I’m sorry, but I couldn’t stand to watch another minute of that,” he says cooly.

“Someones jealous,” I muse.

“Very,” Rhysand confesses with a small smile.

As we sweep across the dancefloor, the feeling of his hand on my waist is all too familiar and I can’t help but remember the last time it was there. I look to the side to find the two Illyrains standing at the edge of the ballroom watching us.

“Who did you bring with you tonight?” I ask Rhys.

“My most trusted friends and members of my court, Cassian and Azriel. Azriel is my spymaster and Cassian is the general of my armies.” he explains. “I grew up with them, they are like brothers to me.”

“Do they know?” I inquire further.

“That we’re mates? Yes. I think Cassain would start a war for you already,” he chuckles.

“Interesting, I would’ve thought they’d be upset,” I say, turning my head back towards Rhys.

“You are not my court’s enemy, your brother is. You aren’t damned by association, and besides they are my brothers, they want me to be happy.” Rhys explains further.

“It sounds like you have quite the amazing family,” I acknowledge and he picks up on the longing in my phrase right away. “I doubt I’ll be treated the same here in the Autumn Court.”

“Why would it matter how the Autumn Court treats you?” he questions.

“Because I’m marrying Eris,” I sigh, keeping my head down, unable to meet the sadness I know resides in his eyes now.

“What?” he growls and for the first time since I’ve known him I’m afraid of him.

“My brother has decided to marry me off to Eris for political gain,” I explain further.

Rhys takes my hand and drags me off the dancefloor, at this point people are so drunk they don’t even notice. He leads me to a room off the ballroom and closes the door. I take a moment to look around at the dimly lit study, filled with old books and mahogany furniture. I lean against the desk and look at Rhys.

“You’re not going to marry Eris,” he fumes.

“You say that like I have the option to say no,” I retort as he closes in further.

“If you marry Eris he will destroy you from the inside out, you will become nothing but a breeding vessel to give him sons.” he tells me.

“I’m going to be the same thing to any Lord my brother marries me to,” I sneer at him.

“That’s not true,” Rhysand shakes his head.

“Oh really?” I scoff.

“It wouldn’t be that way with me. You would be my wife, and my High Lady as well as my mate. You wouldn’t have to be sexually assaulted in your own home, or barricade yourself in your room to be safe! You would have rights and freedom and you would have Cassian and Azriel and a family that loves you!” he yells passionately, getting closer to me. “And you would have me, and I would love you too.” he confesses quieter.

A tear slips from my eye as I take in all that he’s said. He looks at me from just an arms length away, waiting for me to say something back.

“Rhysand I can’t-” I start to say.

“Don’t you dare say that you can’t,” he says, stepping forward and caging me into the desk, his mouth dangerously close to my own. “If you were mine there’s not a person in this world that would dare to touch you. You know that.”

I feel a hand go to my waist and he uses the other to wipe the tears from my eye. A different kind of tension fills the room as his breath fans my face leaving kisses where my tears once were.

“Rhys please,” I rasp out lightly pushing him away. His hands on my waist tighten.

“Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t want me to kiss you right now y/n,” he says tilting my chin up to meet his gaze. He’s right, I do want him to kiss me but I can’t even form the words to ask him that. “I thought so,” he says and then his lips are on mine.

I taste all of him and need all of him. He pulls me so close to him I think I might melt into his skin. I throw my hands around his neck like he might be ripped away from me at any given moment. I feel his hands leave my waist and fly to the desk behind me. The next thing I hear is the clattering of glass, books and paper. He lifts me up and places me on the desk positioning his frame between my legs.

“Rhys,” I moan as his lips find my neck.

“I love it when you say my name,” he groans into the kiss, using his body to press my back into the desk and anywhere that isn’t concealed by my dress gets goosebumps from the cold surface. “I need to taste you,” his hands travel down my body and he sinks to his kneels before me, never breaking eye contact.

“What are you doing?” I ask earnestly.

“Have you ever had a man touch you here?” he questions back, his hand ghosting over my clothed core, my breath hitches.

“N-no,” I squeak. He lifts up the many layers of my skirt and bunches them around my waist.

“And have you ever touched yourself here?” he further inquiries rubbing a hand over my undergarments.

I’m too embarrassed to speak, I just give him a shallow nod.

“Probably while you’re reading all those dirty books right y/n darling?” he smirks loving how the pink tints my cheeks. “And do you want me to touch you here?”

I give him another shallow nod.

“I’m gonna need to hear words darling,” he persists.

It’s almost embarrassing how quickly I spit out, “Yes.”

“Yes what?” he taunts me.

“Yes I want you to touch me there,” I whine.

He lets loose a feral grin before I feel him gently pull down my undergarments, taking his time to let his fingertips brush down the expanse of both my legs while he does it. He pulls then off over my heels and discards them. I watch him intently as he lowers his mouth to me and licks a long stripe clean up my pussy flicking my clit at the very top. My back arches off the desk and I let out a moan.

“Shhh darling, we can’t have other people knowing what sinful things you’re allowing me to do to you right now. Especially poor Eris, he’ll never get to hear you moan like this for as long as he lives,” Rhys smirks before disappearing under my dress again to feast on me.

My back arches again and my hand flies over my mouth to cover my own moan. I feel Rhysand bring one of his hands up to grasp my free one. A touch so simple, yet so intimate. His tongue swirls hungrily over my clit and it takes everything in me not to scream. I squeeze his hand tighter and he chuckles, sending a vibration through my pussy.

You taste amazing, like you were made for me. He says into my mind.

I squeeze his hand harder at his word. I had spent most of my life reading books about this, sex and romance. I assumed all the women writing them were exaggerating how good it could be. In the spring court it was always seen as a pleasure for the male, not the female. But the way Rhys is using his tongue on me right now, has me seeing stars which I know is no coincidence. His mouth closes around my clit suckling it.

“Rhys,” I breathe out.

Fuck darling. I lied, I like it when you say my name, I love it when you moan it.

“Rhys I’m gonna,” I cry trying to keep quiet.

Cum mate. I want you to cum all over my face. He growls into my mind.

It was almost as if he compelled me to. My back arches off the desk for the final time and I use my hand to stifle any sound that comes out of my mouth. He works me through my orgasm and when my body stops shaking he places one final kiss over my clit. His head pops up from under my skirts, his eyes shown with satisfaction as he licks the remnants of my arousal off his lips.

I was on him before he could even speak, pulling him by his neck and kissing him hard. I fumble for the strings on his pants and he grabs my wrist to stop me.

“No, not tonight,” he states. I immediately feel disappointment, the sedition I felt earlier had long left me the second that man licked his lips.

“Rhys please,” I whine.

“As much as it makes my cock twitch to hear you beg for me, I won’t let the first time I fuck you be on Beron Vanserra’s desk.” he chuckles, and leans in close to my ear. “Because when I’m inside you for the first time my mate I want to hear every strangled cry and moan I pull from your body. And when I cum inside you for the first time I want to hear you scream my name so loud all of Prythian knows just who’s mate you are. Is that clear?”

Butterflies hit my stomach and all I can do is nod slowly every coherent thought in my brain long gone. All I can think of is how badly I want him to make good on his promise.

“Good girl, now let's get your panties back on before a certain High Lord of Spring starts to miss you,” he smiles.

Taglist: Taglist: @heyyitsnat21 , @cheshire-salvatore-mikaelson , @randomperson1234sblog , @local-fangirl09 , @bleh-81 , @annaaaaa88 , @cauldronboilmetakemetovelaris

#rhysand #rhys acotar #rhysand x reader #rhysand fluff #rhysand angst #rhysand x reader smut #rhysand smut #rhysand x y/n #rhysand x you

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justporo · 4 months

Text

Tokens of Appreciation

Astarion likes to bring you little gifts and presenting them to you in his overly dramatic way and little bit of playful banter (that he totally didn't make all up on his way home to you).

MASTERLIST | AO3

Author's Note: Written for the "Gifts" prompt of the BG3 Winter Holiday challenge. I like the idea of just showering a loved one with random gifts and being like "this made me think of you" - and also I imagine Astarion could be pretty cute and loving in a genuine relationship with doing stuff like this (albeit insufferably sassy, lol)

Pairing: Astarion/GN!Tav (You) Warnings: none Wordcount: 1,1k ~~~

Throughout winter time Astarion brought you presents. Little trinkets or a sweet treats (accompanied by him saying “a treat for my sweet” and a wink while you act like you’re going to have to throw up from his cheesiness), a single blossom of a flower besting the ice and the snow or maybe a bottle of wine the two of you could share together. It almost had the musings of a cat bringing its owner “gifts” - but you were happy that yours were much more delightful than what a feline predator would have brought in. He didn’t tell you where he would get these small tokens of appreciation - and you didn’t ask. That was part of the magic of this little game. Though, you had the distinct feeling that many of these weren’t acquired under explicitly lawfully good circumstances. But to the hells with that, you were a former thief and he a rogue, what else was new?

It had become a habit for him that whenever he went into the city to run some errands that he would grab a little something for you as well. You had dared to become accustomed to the sweet little gestures and were excited anytime you knew he’d return with a little surprise for you.

The vampire meanwhile had found he enjoyed this way of showing you a bit of admiration: a sign of thinking of you, making the time to grab something and show you some love - all without him having to give anything of himself up. Rather, it even gave him something as well: whenever he saw how your face started to beam with love and admiration, your eyes lighting up, he felt how his own chest felt lighter, warmer and a telltale smile stole onto his lips.

A naive fool might’ve called that love. Astarion counted himself among such fools when it came to you - if exclusively so.

And then he made a show of it each time too. Like when he brought you a flower that was magically frozen in a sphere of ice.

Astarion came into the kitchen where you had been preparing some dinner for yourself still fully clothed from going out. The way he’d sauntered into the room had already told you that he had a little something planned and was infinitely proud of himself - he was terribly predictable sometimes.

When he cleared his throat to get your attention you had obediently put down the vegetables you’d been currently cutting and turned around to him, leaning casually against the counter. The vampire had been waiting with a smug grin, his arms still by his sides so the cloak was fully covering his form.

“My sweet darling, I have something for you,” he said and leaned a little closer in a playful sort of way.

You immediately joined his little back and forth that you already were well accustomed to. Placing your hand on your chest as if asking ‘for me?’ you made a delighted “Oh?” and smiled at him.

With a swift movement the vampire sent one side of his cloak flying, revealing his hand under it which held a shiny sphere. Dexterously, he let the perfect, transparent sphere roll over his wrist and down his arm. And just before the ball fell to the ground he let it smoothly wander onto his other arm. With a quick shrug of his shoulder he made the shiny thing roll up and with a flick of his wrist he elegantly caught it and then offered it to you with a little bow.

“May I present to you, my love, a magically frozen blossom. The height of its existence forever caught in magically eternal ice. Beautiful if ice cold - almost like you, my dear,” he presented the gift to you, still in his little bow before you. You could see the twitch of his eyebrows and the corners of his mouth. Must’ve taken him the whole way home to come up with all of this.

You took the shiny sphere from him - immediately intrigued by its beauty and shininess. It was almost as if your history as a thief had permanently altered your brain to be drawn to shiny, glittery things; as if you had become a little magpie.

The sphere was merely cool in your hands, the ice encasing a wonderfully bright red blossom that immediately made you think of summertime. You turned the beautiful trinket in your hands admiring its beauty when, finally, Astarion’s words registered with you.

You pursed your lips and crossed your arms over your chest, still holding onto the icy sphere. The vampire grinned smugly at you - he’d been waiting for this moment.

“Astarion, dear, I did not just hear you call me frigid, did I?,” you had asked indignantly. The vampire grinned broader in response, putting even his fangs on display.

“Maybe I just called you cool, love,” he replied, sauntering over to where you were still leaning against the kitchen counter.

“Or - maybe,” you countered as Astarion leaned to you, placing one of his arms on the counter, “you just called me chilly.”

The vampire clicked his tongue and pouted: “My heart, you think so negatively of me. I would never dare to call you cold to your face.” He tried to stay serious but a smug grin crept onto his lips, making one corner of his mouth twitch. Meanwhile he leaned in a little closer. Seemingly he was convinced he’d soon be the winner of your little banter and would receive a kiss for all his efforts.

You though weren’t done playing.

“I’d hope so, Astarion. I really hope so. Because that would be so rich coming from a walking and talking corpse whose body heat can’t rise above room temperature”, you replied tongue in cheek as you stayed unimpressed by Astarion craning his neck to reach for you for a kiss.

When the vampire took in your words, he was taken aback. He stopped moving in, his eyes widened while his mouth had fallen open. Then his expression immediately changed into an amused and proud grin.

“My gods, dear,” Astarion said with a little chuckle, still grinning proudly at you.

“Alright,” he then said after staring at you for a bit longer, “I guess this burn has just proven that you’re anything but cold.”

You lifted your chin up and grinned triumphantly at him and Astarion quickly stole a little peck on your lips before he went back to the hallway to take off his cloak.

“Good! But if you’re still not convinced I can show you some heat later on”, you shouted after your vampire and were gifted with a genuine laugh.

Tag list: @spacebarbarianweird @sunfire-ancunin @tragedybunny @dependsonthedream @tallymonster @magazzne @micropoe10 @aoirohi @my-bunny-prince @lumienyx @fayeriess @darlingxdragon

#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #astarion ancunin #fanfiction #astarion x tav #bg3 spoilers #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate #astarion x mc #astarion x oc #bg3holidayfluffle23 #astarion x you #astarion x reader #bg3

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calliesmemes · 1 month

Text

EVEN MORE ABSOLUTELY UNHINGED COMEDIC RELIEF

ASSORTED SENTENCE STARTERS FROM AROUND THE INTERNET, including quotes from Tumblr, Pinterest, TikTok, and X (formerly known as Twitter), for when a muse wants to lighten up the situation at hand.

CHANGE gendered words and in-universe phrases as needed.

SPECIFY muse for multimuses.

“ It’s sea shanty time once again my fellow bastards of the ocean! ”

“ Partner, I reckon that I ain’t been feeling very yeehaw lately. ”

“ I don’t study; I consult the lore. ”

“ Yeah, I understand women — they all want daggers and swords. It’s all quite simple, really. ”

“ Lord forgive me but I may have to make a nonessential purchase. ”

“ Those are bold words for someone in stabbing range. ”

“ Yes I’m a gatekeeper and a hater. I’m also God’s most favorite princess and the most interesting girl in the world. ”

“ My primary motivations are fear, spite, and aesthetic longing. ”

“ Man — if I had a sword, I wouldn’t be worried about shit. ”

“ It’s not blood that runs through these veins but glitter gel pen ink. ”

“ If I was in a Jane Austen novel, I would be the one sent to the seaside for my health. ”

“ Half of me is a hopeless romantic, and the other half of me is … well … an asshole. ”

“ I am the nicest, sweetest, most rage-filled person I know. ”

“ I hope I give off the vibe to all animals that I am their ally and their friend. ”

“ I see you’re paying attention to someone who is not me. Why is that? ”

“ Normalize letting me talk without making any sense. ”

“ Don’t care, didn’t ask, plus my psychic visions have predicted the outcome of this encounter. ”

“ I could be so much worse. For example, I could start acting like my father. ”

“ Sorry for acting so strange and irregular; It will happen again. ”

“ i love sitting in my room.....alone....a girl in her cave....scheming and plotting and drinking tea. ”

“ These man made horrors are beyond YOUR comprehension. I get it though. ”

“ I’m a goth girl on the inside. On the outside? A father figure. ”

“ I don’t need to face reality; I’m not just that type of girl. ”

“ DO I LOOK LIKE I GIVE A frickle-frackle? ”

“ I’m about to cha cha real smooth off a fucking cliff. ”

“ Sorry I told you about my trauma. Do you still think I’m hot? ”

“ My priorities aren’t straight and neither am I. ”

“ I have felt permanently guilty for no reason since I was like eight years old. ”

“ Of course I have a lot of pent up rage, you fool! I’ve been the same height since I was twelve years old! ”

“ I was born for shock value. ”

“ Good morning! God has let me live another day and I’m about to make it everyone’s problem. ”

“ Oh, I slept miserably because I was tormented by terrible visions all night. I hope none of them were prophetic! ”

“ Be the surreal nonsense that you want to see in the world. ”

“ Being smart has never stopped me from being a complete fucking idiot. ”

“ My hobbies include knowing things and being right. ”

“ This is good advice, but don’t tell me what to do. ”

“ I hate the idea of authority. What the fuck is someone being superior to me? Bitch I’m gonna take your kneecaps. ”

“ Stop forgiving my crimes! I worked so hard on those! ”

“ My hobbies? Uhhhh, symbolism mostly. Metaphors and implications and the like. ”

“ I may not have any braincells, but I make up for it by having many heart cells. ”

“ I can’t mansplain manipulate manwhore my way out of this one guys! ”

“ Not all your life decisions have to be smart. Some can be purely for cinematic value. ”

“ Sometimes I wish I looked more fragile and feminine like a dainty flower, but I do enjoy looking like I hate everyone. ”

“ Any dream can be a prophetic dream if you’re willing to do some really weird shit. ”

“ girl help there is not enough enrichment in my enclosure. ”

“ BRO, you NEED to stop SUMMONING DEMONS in the FRAT HOUSE. ”

“ I just gave your address to some spiders! ”

“ I disappoint my father as a hobby now. ”

“ I think that the dark circles under my eyes add to my aesthetic actually. ”

“ Good news! I’ve successfully replaced all of my emotions with jokes! ”

“ I have half a braincell left and I’m very scared to use it! ”

“ Listen, son — in this world, it’s either yeet or be yeeted. ”

“ I appreciate the advice, but I think that I’m old enough to make my own bad decisions. ”

“ I’m disappointed in me too. Y’all aren’t special. ”

“ Running from your demons is the best exercise! ”

“ Sorry; I can’t commit any crimes with you. My mom says that I have to study. ”

“ Time flies when you don’t know what the fuck is going on. ”

“ If I run out of tacos, I can no longer maintain my human form. ”

“ Bestie, I don’t think that I can girlboss under these conditions. ”

“ Yeah I’ve had combat training; I can do anxiety attacks! ”

“ Swag is earned, not learned. ”

“ Contrary to popular belief, violence solves a lot. ”

“ I CANNOT STAND YOU ALL so I will SIT DOWN. ”

“ Please God no … I don’t need any more character development right now! ”

“ If you can’t beat ‘em, yeet ‘em. ”

“ Do not put me in a situation. I’m at my limit and I am very tired. ”

“ I may be depressed, but at least I’m not basic. ”

“ It’s MY LIFE and I’ll sabotage it myself, thank you. ”

“ Think twice? Bold of you to assume that I think once. ”

“ At the next inconvenience, I will start biting people. ”

“ Oops I think that I just experienced an emotion. ”

“ Did you know that rats spelled backwards is star? ”

“ One day, I’ll be reincarnated as a pigeon, and I’ll shit on your head. ”

“ On the outside, I’m a baddie — but on the inside, I’m a saddie. ”

“ My grandma bullies me through the Ouija board. ”

“ I’m a cool person if you can just look past my personality. ”

“ Beetles don’t have to do taxes, and I think that is a beautiful way to live. ”

“ I hope that you get your character development arc soon. ”

“ Those are some nice kneecaps … It’d be a shame if someone stole them … ”

“ I’ve wanted to be a trophy wife ever since I was a little boy. ”

“ I’m done being baby; I want POWER ”

“ Wait, “Just Standing There Ominously” doesn’t count as socializing? ”

“ Yes I am smart, and yes, I am stupid. It’s called being flexible. ”

“ I am NOT delusional!!!!! I am OPTIMISTIC! ”

“ I deserve compensation for not being the menace to society that i could be, like i'm skipping out on a lot of fun here. ”

“ Do not ask me if you should or shouldn't do something !!! Before I am a friend I am an enabler !!! ”

“ i am the WORLDS PRETTYIST PINK PRINCESS and im gonna KILL YOU WITH MY HUGE FUCKING HAMMER ”

#askbox meme #askbox prompt #rp ask meme #ask box #roleplay sentence meme #sentence starters #roleplay prompts #roleplay sentence starters #* sentence meme #rpc help

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greatlydelirious · 2 years

Text

𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐂𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐄𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡

Billy Loomis x F!Reader

wordcount: 6k words

summary: Your boyfriend is another girl’s boyfriend. Safe to say you didn’t imagine your high school love story to go like this. Although it was all for the sake of revenge you couldn’t be more jealous.

warnings: smut, angst, mentions of violence, possessiveness, toxic dynamic, build-up

Today sucked. Correction, every day for the last year seemed to chip away at you. Just like how you were currently picking at the salt on the tiringly bland cracker in your hand. At least this time it wasn’t your skin. Light scars jumped and skipped across your body from all the times you accidentally dug your nails a little too deep trying to put a lid on your emotions.

Although the emotions plaguing you weren’t anxiousness. No; each pick and scratch were futile distractions from the dread and anger that boiled higher and higher as the days passed.

For most of the students enrolled at Woodsboro High School today was just as predictable and mundane as the previous. They lived each day like their last wasn’t looming around the corner.

That wasn’t the case for three students. The trio didn’t only feel the chaos that was about to ensue but anticipated it. Each had a cynicalness that melded with the thrill of danger. Just as every predator did; and you would rather be damned to hell than be the prey to that kind of maelstrom of desire.

Bright light and warmth encompassed the town of Woodsboro as morning gave way to evening. Students from Woodsboro High were out and about with their friends as it was currently lunch and few wanted to stay inside when the weather felt near perfect. Like a calm before a storm; although this one would run red rather than clear.

Jumbled chatter and laughs flowed throughout not only the school grounds but the nearby plaza. Each group had a certain spot they frequented; whether that be a bench, a patch of grass, or under a tree as they conversed and messed around with each other. Six friends in particular were perched on the elevated fountain in the center of it all.

Nothing around you was able to stop the thoughts plaguing your mind. Even though you were basking in the sun and the wind was giving you fleeting kisses across your skin; you were far from content.

Too much and too little were happening all at the same time. The intensity of everything was rushing through your blood like searing lava. Not quite an intense explosion, but a menacingly slow spread.

Adding insult to injury, you weren’t the type to play the long game. It only made you become a ticking timebomb personified by the constant bobbing of your leg.

Oddly enough, the root of your winded-up emotions didn’t lie in the sinister secret that you kept, but in the state of your love life.

Many girls swore that playing “hard to get” added to the appeal and many boys said “the chase” is what made finally getting someone in bed so thrilling. However, in those cases, the two people were only fleetingly entangled together. They never shared heated murmurings about what their life will be like in five years. At this point, those five years seemed long gone.

On multiple occasions, you tried to gaslight yourself into thinking it was all just pillow talk. As luck would have it though, your relationship was not that cut and dry. “Normal” boyfriends gave their girlfriends flowers when they wanted to express their love. Yours promised to drain the blood out of the woman who was coming between you both.

Something thudding against your arm finally pulls you from your musing. A half-bitten apple lamely bounces off and falls to the pavement below your feet. Looking up, you focus a pointed glare on the giggling culprit.

Randy Meeks sat at the end to your left and to your right sat Tatum Riley, Stu Macher, Sidney Prescott, then at the other end Billy Loomis.

“Welcome back to reality sweetheart! How was your trip?” You reach across Tatum to push Stu’s chest. “Real funny dickhead.” He puts a hand over his heart and fixes you with a pout; “You wound me so.”

Rolling your eyes at Stu’s usual dramatics, you try to focus on the conversation happening around you. You’re not surprised when you realize they’re debating over each other about horror movies.

Randy was currently on a rant about female slashers. Context clues you caught on to showed the gist of the discussion which consisted of who was the best one.

“Come on, Carrie and her telekinesis? Game over. One second, you’re joking about a girl’s wonky glasses, and the next you are a human shish kabob.”

“That’s why you have to watch out for what girls you mess with.” Sidney smiles while giving all the boys a pointed look. Randy purses his lips, “I’m a saint, it’s those two you have to worry about.”

The hidden truth didn’t drift past you. What was that phrase? “Hiding in plain sight?”

“How would I ever get a woman to hate me? I have nothing to worry about.” Stu feigns indifference while folding his arms behind his head.

If he gave you a couple of hours you could list the ways.

Tatum scoffs, “Um… Fatal Attraction, hello? You’re Mr. Playboy. Nothing is scarier than a scorned woman.”

“Or a cucked one,” Randy added with a quirk of his brow. While they chuckled, you had to suppress a cringe. That hit too close to home. At this point, the lines felt blurred on who truly was “the other woman”.

“Something about Alex Forrest does make her stand out from the others,” Stu says. Randy scratches his head in mock contemplation, “Let me guess… is it her tits?”

It was Tatum’s turn to throw food as she scoffed and pelted Randy with a grape. “That is so sexist.” Unphased, Randy catches the grape and tosses it in his mouth, “That is the industry baby.”

Satisfied with his heckling Randy nudges your shoulder with his own. “Thoughts and opinions?” Now all eyes were on you. Shrugging the answer came to you faster than accepted.

“I think Annie Wilkes from Misery could give anyone a run for their money.” Randy holds his chest with a gasp, “A girl after my own heart.” The rest of the group nods their head in agreement.

“If you want to talk about scorned woman, nothing is more dangerous than a woman who can’t have the man she loves.” At the end of your statement, your eyes drift to Billy. Of course, he said nothing while staring right back at you. Those unrelenting dark eyes that reminded you of a shark tried to convey something you weren’t in the mood to listen to.

“Hurts, doesn’t it? When the person you adore keeps dismissing you.” You ask him in your head. Not that he would admit that to you anyway. The reason you fell head over heels for Billy in the first place was because he opened up to you about his darkest secrets. Now he barely could get his feelings out without flying off the handle.

The vibe seemed to of turned a little somber by the end of the conversation. Everyone nibbled at the rest of their food while watching the wind rustle nearby greenery.

Sidney quietly pipes in, “Can we talk about something a little less dreary.” As if she just rubbed a genie lamp, her wish is granted.

“All right!” Randy claps his hands while standing up to face the group.

“Let’s cut the shit and remember what matters. Tonight. My place. We are partying it up like brokers on Wall Street. Booze, chicks, costumes, whatever gets you going; we are having a fucking blast.”

Whoops and cheers erupt from the gang at Randy’s proclamation. God knew you could use a good time.

“I can’t believe your parents are trusting you with the house while they’re away,” Sidney states laughing. Randy bats his eyelashes, “What would make you say such a thing? I’m the walking definition of purity.”

Stu turns his attention towards you. “Are you going to bring anybody this time?” The question was normal for the average person, but the twinkle in Stu’s eye meant he knew exactly what he was doing. Pushing your buttons was his specialty.

“Why don’t you bring that boy from math class?” Sidney offers innocently; interrupting the death stare you had trained on the tall idiot to your right.

Tatum nods in agreement. “If you told him to jump, he would ask how high.” Her eyes become soft while still maintaining her smile, “It’s about time you put yourself out there.” You can’t help the small amount of guilt that creeps into your heart at their genuine efforts.

Unbeknownst to them, except for Stu of course, you were already spoken for. To the girl’s dismay, you have been “single” since you transferred to Woodsboro High two years ago. Not that you haven’t been approached or caught a few signals from Randy. Each time you say you’re either “not looking for anything serious” or “very picky about whom you date”.

Before you start drowning yourself in your thoughts again, Randy slings his arm around your shoulder, “Ladies, please. All she needs to be happy is The Meeks, all right.”

Stu puffs out a snort, “In that case, she’s better off alone.” The two boys immediately start to playfully argue back and forth while the two girls giggle, but it gets drowned in the background once again.

There was one person who had yet to add a comment to the conversation. Instead, he opted to stare in your direction while you purposely didn’t spare him even a glance. There was only one person you wanted to be glued to at the party, but that spot was already taken.

Feeling a sudden swell of emotion, you decide to get up. “As much as I appreciate your attempts; I’m perfectly content without a plus one.”

“I mean how long are you going to do that for?”

“Stu-“ Tatum tries to stop him.

“No, it’s okay.” You cut her off quickly. “Some of us just prefer not to whore ourselves out.” A round of scathing “oohs” sounds off as you stare down Stu.

Now he wasn’t just pushing your buttons; he was ripping them off and throwing them in the fucking fountain itself.

“I’m more than content with waiting for the right person to decide they want to get their act together and be with me.” By the end of the sentence, your gaze made its way toward Billy again; which only made the impact of what you said more potent.

“I find that quite romantic actually.” Sidney backs you up. The irony almost made you fall into a fit of laughter. Thankfully, you were too angry to find the comedy in the situation. Your teeth clash together as you watch Sidney lean into Billy’s neck.

Lucky for you, Stu had to give you one final push, “Sure it is, but you can at least look happy about being a loner.” Letting out a deep sigh through your nose you offer Stu a wide mocking smile.

“Oh, I’m just the happiest fucking girl in Woodsboro.” Snatching your bookbag and the previously discarded apple you quickly get to your feet.

“C’mon sweetheart! I’m just joking around!” Turning around you chuck the apple with enough force to make Stu wheeze as you hit him square in the chest. Without wasting another second, you storm back towards the school.

Billy finally decides to pipe in while leaning towards Stu to flick him on the forehead, “Do you ever shut your mouth?”

Papers were strewn across your sheets as you sat on top of your bed trying to focus on something other than Billy Loomis. Of course, that was easier said than done. Not even the masterpiece that is Bram Stoker’s “Dracula” could keep you distracted for long enough.

Love was complicated. Even more so when the one you love is with another woman more than half of the time.

A pang of strange guilt ate away at your jealousy that seemed to sprout horns and a tail. It’s not like Billy wanted it to be this way, but it had to. If anything, you were making his life harder rather than the other way around. The second you came into his life you changed any plans he thought he had secured.

You met Billy after you transferred to Woodsboro High. It started as any cliché teen romance does. You shared some of the same classes, but when you walked through the door, he couldn’t take his eyes off you. The second you made eye contact a fire started to burn between the two of you. One so fierce that it couldn’t just be shrugged off as newfound attraction.

For a year you were simply friends. A title that betrayed the growing tension between the two of you. It was hard to even be in the same room as Billy. Your whole being practically screamed at you to be as close to him as you possibly could. Thankfully any closeness was disguised easily as the whole group was close to one another.

However, like any roaring fire, it was bound to get out of control. Everything came to a head when Billy was over at your house for some late-night studying. Usually, Stu or someone else from the group came with him during these rare sessions, but for the first time, you were both alone together.

The night was going suspiciously normal. That was until out of nowhere Billy grabbed your face to pull you into a searing kiss. Patience was a virtue, and Billy had neither.

In an instant, greedy hands explored foreign skin while two mouths savored each other’s taste. It didn’t take long for things to escalate further. Clothes were torn, moans were swapped, and any control that was holding the two of you back vanished.

You spent the rest of the night arched on your bed as a hungry mouth delved into you and even hungrier eyes never left your own.

For days after Billy contemplated over and over again about what he should do with you. In the end, he came to one conclusion; you were his. “End game” as you now liked to joke while twirling your pinkies together.

Not long after, Billy and Stu decided to let you on what they were planning.

Billy practically tore out his heart for you to hold. When he told you everything about his mother’s abandonment because of what happened with his father and Sidney’s mother; you were aghast. Soon enough his rage became your own.

Was it logical in any sense of the word? No; but love will make you do crazy things. Especially when your mind has already traveled to the darkest places. That’s why you and Billy were drawn together in the first place. Darkness recognizes other darkness and creates an inseparable bond. Even in death.

The sound of a knock coming from your window doesn’t startle you: but adds more fuel to your anger. It must be fun for him to run around Woodsboro doing whatever he wanted. Was that a petty way to think? Yes; but it was still the truth.

Book still in hand you decide to acknowledge the object of your desire and frustration. When you pull back the curtains a dark-haired boy is sitting on your windowsill like a gimmicky magic trick. Instead of pulling up the glass you just stare at him.

“Your mood is macabre.” Billy gives you a smirk as he gestures at your book. If he was trying to break the tension, it didn’t work.

Letting yourself indulge in your foolish heart you flip to the page with a red sticky note and read the quote below it. “I am longing to be with you, and by the sea, where we can talk together freely and build our castles in the air.” Billy gives you a frown in silent understanding. Bram Stoker could voice your anguish far better than you ever could.

“And just like Dracula, you would make Judas proud with your jaded ruthlessness.” A character flaw that got his beloved killed. You might share that fate with the way things were going.

Billy is noticeably clenching his jaw as he stares at you through the glass. When you make no move to unlock the window he yells from the other side, “I’m not in the mood to play your games!” The irony of that statement makes you impulsively unlatch the window and slam it open. “My games? Do you know how much I’m sacrificing for you, Billy? I’m willing to risk my life for you because I love you! The least you can do is show that you care.”

Before you know it a hard body shoves into yours. In the process, your book falls to the ground and you lose your footing. Strong hands grab your hips before you can fall. With the aid of his grip on you, Billy makes you sit on the edge of your bed.

You tried to push at his chest but a hard squeeze of your hips made you look up. The way Billy stared down at you was almost intimidating as his legs brushed against your knees. He quite literally put you in your place.

“Trust me; I know.” The words come out in a growl. “Are you choosing to forget everything I’m doing for us? Do you think I like following around that fucking brat?”

The metaphorical horns sprout from your head when you answer the rhetorical question, “Well the two of you look real cozy together.” You hiss when his nails start to dig into your flesh.

“Don’t pretend like you’re not playing your part too. Randy? That pathetic fucker in your math class? We both know your innocence is all an act.” Each word is filled with more venom than the last. He was fed up, but you have been for much longer.

Pure anger takes over as you spit back, “You know? You’re right! What if I went around kissing and getting cozy with them then? Anything for the plan remember?” Billy grabs your jaws and pulls you inches away from his lips, “You don’t want to know what I would do.”

His grip was harsh enough to leave bruises. A part of you wanted him to. It was like a souvenir; a physical reminder that you were the only one that could expose Billy’s most carnal nature.

The line between violent obsession and love was so blurred it practically didn’t exist. Wasn’t that the appeal though; the exhilarating high of not knowing if you would be an unrelenting duo or tear each other into pieces? At this point either option was tantalizing.

As if he was thinking about the same prospects, Billy starts to graze your jaw with his teeth. Rapid breaths fan your skin making goosebumps erupt as the anticipation started to build. He trails down your neck till he nips the thin skin at the juncture of your collarbone and shoulder.

“When will you understand you drive me fucking crazy?” His voice edged with a grave vulnerability.

“More than you already are?” Dark eyes come back up to stare into yours, “So much more.”

Before you can heave out a proper response a shrill ringing starts coming from your desk. It takes a little pushing before Billy begrudgingly lets you go.

Rubbing your temples, you pick up the phone. “Hello?”

“Hey! Tatum’s at my place helping me pick a costume for tonight and we need to consult you.”

As Sidney starts talking excitedly about what they are going to wear, you turn your attention back to Billy and nod your head toward your open window. He hesitates until you make the gesture again. Luckily for you, you were too preoccupied for him to get into another spat.

Unbeknownst to Billy, your heart clutches as you watch him leave from whence, he came. Just like usual, nothing was resolved after his surprise visit. Billy got to come and go as he pleased, while you greedily took whatever scraps of attention, he spared you.

Fuck. You were getting angry all over again.

“Did you hear me?”

Shaking your head to clear your mind for the hundredth time today you force a smile against the receiver. “Sorry, Sid. What did you say?”

Sighing Sidney thankfully doesn’t pry and repeats herself, “I think you should wear something red. Put yourself out there.”

“Nothing screams ‘I’m game’ more than red! Oh; and something short! Don’t skimp on that!” Tatum yells from what you surmise is Sidney’s closet.

Maybe they were on to something. “Okay, Billy,” You thought. “Let the real games begin.”

By the time you make it to Randy’s place, the party was already in full swing. Despite how Billy and Stu made fun of him, Randy was good at wrangling people together.

The vibration of the music coming from the house tickled your fingers as you knocked on the door.

Randy opens the door revealing a Hugh Hefner-Esque silken pajama set paired with loafers and a pipe hanging from his upturned lips. How not fitting and fitting at the same time.

“Where’re your bunnies?”

His smile grows, “If I had a pair of ears, you could make it work.”

It was true. Your outfit merely consisted of a red dress that fell above your mid-thigh with a black corset cinching the middle and a pair of black heeled boots with fishnets. The ironic red devil horns adorning your head made your outfit an actual costume. Safe to say you followed Tatum’s advice perfectly.

Randy widens the door to let you in. As you walk in you scan your surroundings. You recognized a couple of people from school and some not so familiar before you found whom you were looking for.

Stu and Tatum were dressed as Fred and Daphne, although you thought Shaggy would fit Stu’s personality better. (hehe) To your petty delight, Sidney and Billy were not in a couple’s costume. Sidney was dressed as a cute witch and Billy was in casual attire.

Spotting you at the same time, your friends excitedly wave at you. Sidney bumps Billy with her shoulder, “Doesn’t she look drop-dead gorgeous?”

“Consider me in mourning,” Billy mumbles into his beer.

Ignoring his muted response, Sidney and Tatum run up to you.

They immediately bombard you with squeals and compliments. Moments like these almost made you second guess what you were participating in. Almost.

“Listen, about Stu-“ Tatum starts.

“Stu is Stu. Don’t apologize on his behalf. On the bright side, I have a free pass to kick his balls in.” Tatum and Sidney giggle as you effectively calm any worries. All Stu was doing was making you feel less and less guilty about that stab to the side coming his way.

Regardless, you had bigger plans for tonight. Plans that included the unsuspecting Randy Meeks lounging on the leather sofa in the living room.

Booze was such a deliciously bad idea. Sure, it had the upside of making you become the life of the party, but the downside was that it made you a little too friendly. Only two beers in and you found yourself sitting on Randy’s lap with your arm secured around his neck as you both looked at the TV.

Everyone was dancing and chatting, but here you were watching a movie in the middle of a house party. The damsel in distress screams as the killer grabs her hair and makes her tumble down the stairs she just tried to run up. “This is exactly what I’ve been saying! Don’t run up the stairs if a psycho with a knife is chasing you!”

Randy’s movie buff passion mixed with the corny scene manages to make you genuinely laugh for the first time today. The sound caught the attention of whom you wanted hook, line, and sinker. Billy’s eyes were pure black as he watched you snuggle into Randy.

He knew exactly what you were trying to do based on your prior argument. To his increasing frustration, it was working.

As you glance toward Billy you try to figure out how to up the ante. After only a minute, a mischievous idea pops into your head, making you smile far too wide. The drunken haze you were in only increased your want to make Billy feel what you feel, consequences be damned.

Tracing your fingers along Randy’s jaw you look up at him through your lashes. “You’re always so passionate about this Randy. It’s so… adorable.” As you draw out your words you notice how his adam’s apple jumps.

Randy tries to laugh it off, “Dumb and Dumber would say that makes me a loser.” Sitting up you ghost your lips against his ear, “I’m not them though am I.” It takes everything in you not to burst into a fit of laughter when Randy’s eyes quickly flit to your cleavage pressed against his chest. “Certainly not.”

His empty beer bottle clunks to the ground in an almost comedic fashion. Swiftly you swipe up the bottle and stand. The second you do so Randy crosses his legs. It’s nice to know you still got it. “I’ll fetch us some more, don’t stray too far.”

You hear him mumble “I couldn’t even if I wanted to” under his breath which makes you snicker. Looking up you hope to feel the victory of seeing Billy’s rage, but the spot he was occupying next to Stu was empty. As you open your mouth to ask Stu where Billy is, he merely shakes his head with an expression you couldn’t read.

Sighing you make your way to the back of the house. Billy must have gone home. It wouldn’t be the first time he had to do that to avoid making a scene. Still, a win is a win.

Flipping the light switch you walk into the dim garage. The hum of the bulb melded with the muffled voices inside the house. You were thankful for the reprieve.

The small set of steps creaked under your boots. Even with the light on, the garage was still dark enough that you had to strain your eyes to find the fridge.

Opening the fridge, you sigh at the cold air that wisps across your hot skin. When you leaned forward to grab two beers a creak made you whip around.

No one was behind you. “Paranoid much?” You ask yourself letting out an exasperated chuckle. It didn’t help that you have been high-strung for the last couple of months. That’s only more reason why you need to get fucked up tonight.

Toasting the air, you chug down one of the beers. You place the empty bottle on the nearby workbench and grab a new one. Swaying slightly, you make it up the stairs again.

Blowing out a breath you scold yourself for your anxiety. How cliché was it to be scared of a dark room? Nothing would happen here of all places.

Unlike before, all the people near the door were gone. Just as you’re about to step out of the hallway a rough hand pulls your forearm. Before you can cry out another hand clamps around your mouth while you’re pulled into a room. The beers in your hand fall victim to the hard floor as they shatter.

The door slammed shut with a bang, but you’re positive no one was able to hear it over the bumping music and cacophony of voices. The breath is knocked out of you when the hard wall meets your back. A hand moves to squeeze your neck as harsh words are pressed into your ear, “I think it’s about time you learn a fucking lesson.”

The familiar voice makes your frantic heartbeat go even faster. When you try to talk back your attempt is muffled by the hand still secured over your mouth. Billy lets out a chuckle that is far from humorous. “You’re so beautiful when you’re quiet.”

The fingers around your neck move to tangle in your strands of hair. You groan at the sharp pain when he pulls your head back. Like the predator he was, he descended on his prey.

Sharp teeth tug and nip at your skin. Each burning sensation is followed by the coolness of his tongue as he sucks over each spot. The pain was synonymous with pleasure as Billy’s cruelty was synonymous with his love.

Desperate for more connection you try to grab at Billy’s shirt. Your attempt is quickly thwarted. Each wrist is caught in his much larger hand. Now that your mouth was free you sucked in much-needed air.

“Fuck you.” His grip turned into pure steel as you made futile efforts to get free. “Don’t worry baby; I plan to.” Rough lips slam onto yours. There was no finesse in the kiss, but you didn’t care. Unsatiated need made you both feral.

The lust mixed with alcohol drove you mad. In retaliation, you bite Billy’s lip. If he wasn’t going to play nice neither were you. You’re rewarded with a groan and a push of Billy’s hips. Now you were so flush together you could feel something hard press against you even through the layers of fabric.

Each grind made you slick to the point of discomfort. Looking down Billy notices the newfound wet spot on his jeans. In an instant, one of his fingers is stroking at your entrance. “This better all be for me.” Of course, it was, but you wanted a fight.

“Why do you care?” The sound of fabric tearing fills the room as your stockings and panties are destroyed. “What the fuck-“ Before you can get your anger out two thick fingers deftly fill you. Billy smiles when you clench around him. “Don’t think I didn’t see you staring at me the whole time. We both know the only man who can satisfy you is me.”

“Prove it then.” Those three words were all it took for everything to go into hyperdrive. Metal clanks as Billy made quick work of his jeans. You almost sigh in relief when his warm length falls against you. When Billy was inside you, you were an extra seven inches.

Instinctively you wrap your legs around Billy’s hips. He is deceptively sweet as he strokes your clit before proclaiming, “I’m going to treat you like the slut your acting like.” With that Billy sheaths himself in your depths. You cry out at the sudden fullness. It had been far too long since you’d been connected like this.

Without giving you time to adjust, he starts pummeling you. Your body feels overstimulated at the sudden flurry of sensation that was everywhere all at once. Billy was so close that every time he pushed into you his groin rubbed against your clit. Hands grabbed and glided over every inch of your body. It was like he was learning your body all over again.

Your moans quickly turned into uncoherent pleas that only made a sadistic smile pull at his lips. “This is what you fucking wanted, huh? For me to fuck you like the attention whore you are?” His words came out through clenched teeth. Each thrust of his hips was harder than the last. When you tried to respond all that came out were pathetic moans.

“Tell me!” Billy was always demanding, but your brain was too scrambled to make a snarky remark. You managed to stutter out a breathless, “Yes.” He buried his face in your neck. Hot breath further warmed hot skin. Your costume couldn’t have been more appropriate.

“I’m going to kill that fucker Randy just for the way he was looking at you.” And you did not doubt that. A part of you looked forward to it. By the way, a smile tickled your neck, Billy felt the way you clenched at his words. Was it love if you wouldn’t kill for each other?

As your bodies melded together you mewled out sweet words to atone for your past disputes. His thrust became deep and slow at your words. A tenderness that felt like whiplash compared to his previous roughness. The pressure deep in your core was building until you were certain it was going to explode any second.

You wanted to scream when Billy pulled out of you, but you were quickly silenced when he dropped to his knees. Your head falls against the wall when his mouth descends on your sex. His tongue lashes out to soothe the tender flash that was just subject to his sensual attack. While Billy’s mouth devoured you like you were his last supper, his fingers stroked your throbbing bud.

His actions sent a silent message, “See what you get when you obey me?”

In seconds you were gasping his name and pulling at his hair. By now the ongoing party outside melted away and all you could feel was Billy. With a cry of his name your orgasm hits like a crashing meteor; the resulting sparks make your vision spotty.

Amid your high Billy gets back up to push back inside you. He groans at the spasming of your inner walls while he chases his release. Grunts and growls spill from him like the animal he ways. All he craved was carnal desire and his blood lust.

After three deep thrusts that made you thud against the wall, Billy pulled you into a kiss unlike any you’d had before. Warmth floods your core as he gives you all the passion you yearned to feel for weeks. You moan out “I love you” like a prayer over his lips. Even the devil had those who worshipped him.

Billy moves so your eyes are inches apart. “You are mine got it? All fucking mine.” Instead of the words coming out harsh, they were nearly a whisper. Not a declaration, but a fact etched in stone. Although it wasn’t the coveted three-letter phrase, it meant just the same.

Billy’s dark eyes pierced straight into your soul in a way that turned you on while simultaneously scaring you. He didn’t just indulge in your body but consumed you. Billy was pure evil wrapped in sin and you were his fallen angel ripe for the taking.

Bonus:

Safe to say you stayed away from Randy for the rest of the night. Half because you more than learned your lesson and half because if you didn’t stay leaned against the wall your legs would collapse in on themselves.

Hanging out on the side, away from the majority of other students, you watch Billy chat with Sidney. He had that wide crooked grin plastered on his face and an arm slung around her. Jealousy should have burst back to the surface, but you knew who was the one that created that smile.

You were so distracted studying every last detail of your lover; you jumped when you felt a solo cup plop into your old one.

“You’re welcome.” You stare up dumbly at Stu as he sips his drink. “For what? Being a dickhead all day?”

“For being the wingman of the century. When the two of you haven’t shacked up in a while you both get all moody and agitating. I fastened the process.” You take a sip of your drink to take in what he just said. When the realization dawns, you dissolve into a fit of coughs.

“You busted my balls not to piss me off, but to help me… get off?”

Stu breaks out into a huge grin, “Bingo! As cute as the longing angst routine is, the stick it shoves up Billy’s ass isn’t so cute.” Stu was Billy’s honorary punching bag when he was in one of his infamous foul moods.

He winks and pushes himself off the wall to make his way toward Tatum. Before he makes it too far, he yells over his shoulder, “Love the new necklace by the way.”

Confused you look down. Your cheeks turn crimson red at the multiple dark bruises decorating your neck and collarbone. You curse and look at whose handiwork this was. Sensing your gaze, Billy scans you up and down. The further darkening of his eyes conveyed all you needed to know. There was more where that came from.

Any and all interactions are greatly appreciated.

#billy loomis x reader #billy loomis x you #billy loomis #scream #scream x reader #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #delirious masterlist

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sillybouquetsoul · 11 months

Text

Cloud Castles - Chapter 5

Chapter 5: i will follow you into the dark (ao3 link)

Rating: Teen

Word count: 4.8k

Pairing: Aisha/Sein

Story Summary: They dance just out of each other’s reach, but each time brings them closer together.

Aisha and Sein navigate through the dark fairy tale of their own making, one encounter at a time.

Chapter Summary: The Goddess of Rot descends to Hell.

[Continuation of Cloud Castles Chapter 3 - Hades and Persephone's Twin]

Just as she predicted, Anya flies into a fit of rage. Aida cries.

But even when faced with their distress, Aisha doesn’t change her mind.

Not long after Sein left, promising to return by the next full moon to personally escort her to the underworld, the stately garden and its colorful flowers and sweet fragrances lose their appeal. The rotten core inside her becomes harder to hold back by the day, yearning to be unleashed in its full glory, and her anticipation for the next full moon continues to climb.

It’s like the God of Death has cast an invisible enchantment over her heart, mind, and spirit. Anya argues as such, accusations spilling out in a wild frenzy as she fluctuates between spitting wrathful curses on Sein’s name and beseeching Aisha to not fall for this evil God’s tricks.

Perhaps her mother has a point, but does it really matter now? Once she makes a promise with one of the Big Three, it’s nigh impossible to take back her words. Her own home stifles her powers and expression, so a change in environment may prove beneficial for her wellbeing.

Sein did promise that she can return to Earth if she wants to. He offered her a choice.

Eventually, Anya’s anger gives out. She takes Aida with her, leaving Aisha alone in the gardens, presumably to give her space, presumably hoping that her younger daughter will indeed reconsider.

Aisha does no such thing. Instead, she muses on how her mother’s first instinct is to take Aida, not Aisha away. How it’s always Aida who should be protected and not herself. How as soon as she sees that Aida is crying inconsolably, she decides that the best course of action is to comfort Aida.

How even though Aisha was the one propositioned by another God—one of the Big Three at that—Aida is always the first priority.

Rather than suspecting that Sein enchanted her through illicit means, Aisha prefers to believe that their encounter has helped open her eyes just a little more, increasing her awareness of certain things that she never questioned since young.

Anya and Aida don’t return by the next full moon. Aisha doesn’t try to find them.

Sein appears on time. He doesn’t need to break through the five layers of rot to enter the garden; since Aida isn’t around, Aisha feels no need to set up her defenses.

“Good evening, Aisha.” He greets her with a smile.

She stares at the smile, waiting for the alarm bells in her head to sound. Nothing.

Sein raises an eyebrow at her silence. He maintains his distance, but he leans forward slightly, gaze intent and probing on her face.

“Do you still recall our agreement?” He asks lightly.

Aisha nods.

“Good. I must admit that I expected your mother to come after me,” seemingly satisfied that no one else is in the garden except them, Sein straightens. “I wonder how you managed to convince her to agree.”

“I couldn’t convince her.” Aisha looks down, her stomach churning—but not because of Sein. Mostly because she’s realizing that she won’t get to say goodbye to Aida before she goes with Sein. Anya didn’t give the twins a chance to talk to each other. “She’s with Aida at the temple, I think.”

“I see.” His whisper precedes a soft swishing sound, likely from his robes as he moves.

She doesn't hear his approach until she feels cold fingers slip under her chin, tilting her face upwards. The contact is startling, and she shivers.

Never allow other Gods to touch you, especially the powerful ones, the ones you don’t know, the ones who can set you on fire with a single glance. Break away now before it’s too late.

But it’s already too late. Her mother and sister have forsaken her. And what Sein says next, using that same soft voice like he’s coaxing a dying animal to cross over the other side, only throws her thoughts into further chaos.

“You don’t have to hold back now.”

The fingers on her chin spread out, and his thumb rests atop her hammering pulse. He can easily snap her neck in this position and have her soul in his grasp. He’s a primordial God, while she’s the decaying earth under his feet, a lesser God invisible and unknown to many.

But his eyes are fixed on hers, and his touch is gentle despite its possessiveness. He seems to see through her.

“Let it go. Let the rot fester.”

It’s permission; and even if it isn’t his to give, it induces the same end result.

The tight coil in her body, which contains years and years and years worth of pent up tension, of selfless consideration for her sister, of every flower she’s seen bloom in Aida’s hand and every subsequent urge to make it rot, shatters.

A shaky sigh leaves her. Along with it, the heady smell of carrion, dried blood, and dead leaves begins to permeate the clearing. The grass beneath them goes brown before shriveling into nothing. Waves of energy ripple outwards, reducing the flora and fauna down into black soil in seconds.

It happens so quickly, too quickly, that by the time she returns to her senses, the garden around them is barren.

What has she done?

Sein, for his part, looks extremely satisfied.

A lone cloud blots out the moon, temporarily sealing away what little illumination there is. But the hungry gleam in those eyes is visible and tangible all the same.

“Where we’re headed, you’ll never need to hide yourself.”

He holds her hand as the ruined garden melts away around them. There’s a strong chance that Anya will think it’s Sein’s doing, not Aisha’s. No one has ever seen the full extent of Aisha’s powers, except for the God of Death.

She lacks the energy to care about that.

The world reforms, and then they’re standing on wet but solid rock. Sein is still holding her hand.

“Probably best to not separate, otherwise you’ll get lost.”

“I can walk on my own.” Aisha retorts, tugging her hand away. Just because she agreed to follow him to the underworld didn’t mean that he owned her, and could touch her at will.

Why he chose her remains a mystery, but if the legends about male gods taught her anything useful, it was their endless appetite—for wealth, power, and women.

Sein sighs and says nothing else as he walks on. She trails a few steps behind, senses on high alert for strange things that might leap out from the dark. Based on the bare and rocky landscape, they’re likely walking to the gates of the underworld, which are said to be the final bastion between the world of the living and the dead.

It’s strange that he doesn’t take her straight to his lair. Perhaps he thinks he’s doing her a favor by taking the more scenic route. Perhaps he’s testing her.

Perhaps he’s plotting to kill her. The chances are slim, but possible nonetheless. He’d have killed her way before this if he wanted to.

“My offer still stands,” Sein says without preamble, slowing down to match his strides with Aisha. “You’re not a prisoner of the underworld, but coming in and out of it… is tricky.”

“How so?” She asks warily.

“The earth and the underworld are two separate entities. One shouldn’t cross into the other; or rather, the living should never interfere with the dead and vice versa. Obviously, I’m the exception to the rule. But the underworld was never meant to accommodate the living.”

Aisha pauses, staring at the uneven terrain uneasily. “I’m not dead.” She says, unsure whether it’s a reminder for herself or Sein. Both, probably.

“You’re not,” Sein agrees smoothly. “which is why I will allow you a single chance to choose. You chose to descend this time, but you’ll have another chance to decide whether to stay or leave. Just one.”

“Am I the only living god that’s descended?” Surely Carlo and Nemo have descended to see Sein before. She can’t imagine Sein turning them away without good reason. The gods of Olympus have lived in peace for millennia. She can’t recall the last time the Big Three have declared war upon one another.

“You are,” the firm conviction in his tone erases all doubts from her mind. “I don’t permit anyone to set foot inside my territory. If my presence at Olympus is required, I will ascend.”

“And yet, here I am.”

“Indeed. I can hardly believe it myself.”

They reach a black gate. As Sein reaches out, his skin looking inordinately pale under the watery lighting, she hears movement and heavy breathing from the shadows. Something that sounds bigger than her and Sein.

The subsequent rumbling growl echoes off the walls, turning her blood into ice. Sein faces the source.

“Arthur.”

The growling recedes in volume. Unperturbed, Sein clicks his tongue.

“Behave. I’d like you to meet a guest of mine.”

She knows what ‘Arthur’ is, having read and heard about the massive three-headed dog that guards the gates to the underworld. But her prior knowledge proves woefully inadequate in preparing her for the real thing.

‘Arthur’ stands at an impressive height, towering over her and Sein. When it steps forward, the ground seems to tremble beneath the weight of paws that are the size of dinner plates. All three heads bear identical snarls, three sets of teeth bared, drool frothing at the corners. From the size of its maw, she thinks that each head can devour her in one bite. With three sets of eyes on her, she doesn’t quite know where to look.

“Anyone who seeks to enter the underworld must pass through Arthur first.”

She watches in amazement as the three-headed dog bends down, sniffing around Sein’s hand. There’s a small, barely-there smile on the God of Death’s face, the most genuine smile out of any that she’s seen so far. And then it hits her.

The origin of all creatures of the underworld can be traced back to the God of Death; including this deadly amalgamation of dog and beast.

If its master has already approved of her… there’s no reason why Arthur wouldn’t. Not unless Sein suddenly changes his mind and decides that he wants her dead after all. But why would he? In the past few moons, he’s had plenty of opportunities to kill her, none of which he’s acted on.

So Aisha ignores the warning bells in her head, squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin high instead. She refuses to be afraid, even when faced with the tiniest possibility of death—and death is smiling next to her.

She approaches the gate. The growling escalates again as she reaches out, mirroring Sein’s earlier action. But she isn’t trying to touch the gate.

She reaches for Arthur’s closest head, hand hovering midair and waiting. She knows better than to touch an unfamiliar creature without warning. Perhaps Arthur can be reasoned with. Past the hackled fur and snarling visage, it must possess a degree of intelligence.

A pause. She hears nothing except for her quickened heartbeat. The telltale muted rumbling sound in Arthur’s throats. Seconds pass, and Arthur makes no attempt to attack. All three heads lower, noses twitching furiously. Aisha doesn’t move. She feels damp breath stirring her hair, and the softest brush of a wet nose against her head.

Then Arthur suddenly stands rigid. With a loud huff, it slinks back into its hiding place, melding seamlessly into the shadows and silence once more.

Aisha blinks the faint wetness away from her eyes. Her outstretched hand is trembling. Her knees are weak, and the only thing that keeps her standing is pure, unadulterated fear.

But that fear seems laughably insignificant compared to the proximity of death. For a moment, she saw her life flicker out like a snuffed candle flame when she reached out to Arthur.

Sein steps forward, wordlessly folding her trembling hand in his. Despite the strangely cold and clammy quality of his skin, akin to a corpse’s, Aisha doesn’t protest this time as she wills the shivers away.

He sounds almost kind. “I think you’ll fit right in.”

They slip past the gates without further fanfare. After Arthur, they don’t encounter anything else. All she hears are their footsteps echoing against the uneven ground, which eventually transitions into a cobblestone path.

Hell is dark and dreary, just as how she’s always imagined it. Under a ruby sky, the God of Death’s castle is a jagged, spiky structure that doesn’t look at all homely and welcoming. Black imposing gates surround the castle. Snarls of thorny vines are wrapped around the top of the gates, undoubtedly an added deterrent against intruders.

Is it really necessary?

Then again, it’s just how she’s always imagined.

After showing her to her quarters, and upon her prompting, the collection of dead libraries—fortunately, the libraries are located a few floors directly below her, which is great for accessibility—Sein doesn’t linger.

“I have some urgent matters to attend to. I’ll see you at dinner.”

Dinner is the last thing on Aisha’s mind the moment she sees the size of the libraries. Sein must have read her mind, because he gives her a knowing look.

“See you at dinner.” He repeats firmly.

“...see you.” She reluctantly concedes.

“Good,” Sein tilts his head to the side. “And remember what I said before?”

Aisha looks at him in confusion.

“You don’t need to hold yourself back here.”

That’s easier said than done. There’s a worn and rusted lock to the door that contains her power, and despite Sein’s express permission—no, encouragement, it’s hard to open that door.

To her, it still doesn’t seem real. It’s too good to be true. She might hurt someone or something. The image of the ruined garden resurfaces, followed by Aida’s face. Her heart twists.

“...thank you.”

Contrary to popular belief, plants do grow in Hell.

She doesn’t recognize any of them, except for the pomegranate trees. They’re small and perpetually bent over due to the amount of pomegranate fruits hanging from the branches.

On days when she wants to read outdoors, she goes to the Serpent’s Garden. The garden is filled with rows of pomegranate trees.

Pomegranates must be Sein’s favorite fruit, though she hasn’t seen him eat one yet. Eating pomegranates is normally a messy and wet affair, what with all the seeds. They stain your lips scarlet, just a few shades darker than human blood.

She knows what pomegranates signify in Hell. Once consumed—skin, flesh, seed, any part of a pomegranate really—you’re stuck here forever. An unbreakable tether forms between you and Hell, because you’ve consumed its forbidden fruit, and now you belong to the God of Death.

Sein doesn’t tell her any of this. Either he assumes that she already knew, or he intends for her to slip up and eat one. Aisha strongly suspects the latter.

Fortunately, she’s never liked pomegranates. All she’s interested in are the dead libraries, which have been a wonderful source of knowledge and entertainment so far. Other than attending dinner with Sein, she spends her waking hours poring over dead books.

Most of the dead books are in poor condition; singed pages, faded script, and missing covers across the board. But they can never be restored, because they no longer exist in reality. It’s a miracle that she even gets to access them now.

So why hasn’t Sein shown his true colors yet? There’s no conceivable reason for him to share his dead belongings without motive. He’d told her once that he wanted her to rule by his side, which presumably meant he wanted her as a wife or consort. The first out of many, Aisha imagines. And yet, except for the countless resident apparitions, his castle seems almost deserted. No other gods or goddesses roam the halls; at least, none that she’s encountered during her stay.

The notion of a celibate god is ridiculous. He must be skilled at keeping his secrets hidden.

No matter. She’s here for the books and only the books. It’s impossible to comb through all the libraries during her trial stay here, but keeping her options open seems the wiser decision. The last thing she wants is to be trapped here forever.

On Earth, Aida must be beside herself with worry. Despite the circumstances, she still misses her twin dearly.

However, the lack of floral scents is a refreshing change. Ever since Sein gave her permission to stop holding back, she lets the stench of rot and decay permeate through her personal space. The release gratifies her, though she can’t help but wonder how things would change when she returns to Earth. She won’t be able to exercise the same freedom there as she does in Hell.

Rot comes on the heels of death. Nobody ever wants to acknowledge it. The only person who acknowledges her power is Aida, and now Sein.

It’s why she relies on books. Reading books taught her that despite her unsavory image and how she would never be truly accepted among her peers, her power is still a necessary part of life. She sequesters herself away in Anya’s garden, hiding herself among the flowers and grass that barely conceals her scent.

A life spent hiding yourself away isn’t much of a life at all—she understands this better than anyone else.

Sein isn’t bothered by her rot. If anything, he seems to find pleasure in seeing her let go, little by little. Sometimes he even asks questions about the extent of her powers, seeming genuinely interested.

“I thought that the God of Death had other pastimes than spending time with me?” She says to him once, puzzled.

“You’re a guest. I’d be a terrible host if I neglected my guest, wouldn’t I?” Sein responds without missing a beat.

“Well, as you can already tell, I’m not lacking for entertainment,” Aisha gestures to the neverending shelves before returning to the current task of putting her book back. Sein can be terribly distracting sometimes (all the time).

“I promise you that I don’t feel neglected. Quite the opposite, in fact.”

She hears him sigh.

“Alright. Then what if I’m the one who feels neglected?”

“What do you mean?”

There’s the empty spot. As she nudges the books on either side farther apart to make room, Sein’s eyes appear between the gap, looking directly at her. She frowns, a little discomfited by the intent expression.

“I have no qualms with your reading. But I don’t think it’s too much to ask for a bit of your time,” He also reaches out, widening the gap between the books on his end. “Because I’d like us to get to know each other better.”

“We have dinner together every night.” She says, slotting the book in place. The shadows of the books shift. A dark, ink-like substance seeps through the base of the bookshelf, expanding upwards before reforming into his figure. He faces her, leaning a shoulder against the shelf, arms crossed.

“You read during dinner as well.” He reminds her.

This gives her pause, swiftly followed by guilt.

He’s right. It didn’t occur to her how inconsiderate she comes across, outright ignoring him in the only hour they’re in each other’s company. As Sein already made clear: he’s the host, and she’s his guest. He visits the libraries to check on her periodically, but she doesn’t reciprocate.

Even though she’s constantly wary and on guard, he hasn’t yet given her a compelling reason to question him. The rumors still live in the back of her mind, of course; but shutting him out may lead to more harm than good, and who knows how he’ll react when angered.

“I apologize,” she says as she turns to him, contrite. “I didn’t realize that it bothered you so.”

Sein waves a flippant hand. “I’m not bothered. Maybe a tad disappointed. Books are surely interesting, but not everyone gets to experience life in the underworld firsthand. I can say for certain that this—” he sweeps an arm around them. “—isn’t written down anywhere.”

He taps the spine of a book, those long, dark nails stark against the slate gray surface.

“I merely suggest splitting your time between different things; my libraries aren’t going anywhere, so get your nose out of books for a bit and live a little more. You have the entire underworld at your disposal; why not make the most out of it?”

She lifts her gaze to meet his. It took a few days before she discovered that his eyes aren’t black, as she was led to believe during their first meetings in the dark; instead, the color lands in between hazel and olive green—reminiscent of Earth’s gardens shaped by Anya and Aida’s hands.

“So I can ask about anything?”

He smirks, hearing the challenge in her tone.

“By all means.”

The next night, Aisha arrives at the dining room empty-handed. If ‘getting to know each other’ is what he wants, then it’s what he’ll get.

Except not in the way he may have expected. She intends to test his boundaries.

“I’ve been curious about something for a while.”

Sein looks pleased with her initiative. He folds both hands under his chin and leans forward in rapt attention. In that moment, she can almost believe that she holds more power than he does.

“Most gods keep regular company to warm their beds,” that’s a nicer way of saying most gods are lecherous bastards with zero self-control. “Where do you keep yours?”

The question doesn’t faze him. Instead, a smile breaks across his face. The silence drags on until she fidgets in her seat and looks away, a strange warmth flooding her cheeks.

Then, calmly, “In the library.”

(Suffice to say that her first attempt backfires. Sein eventually tells her that he doesn’t have anyone to warm his bed.)

“Why is this place called the Serpent’s Garden?” Aisha wonders aloud. They’re strolling through the garden, an activity that Sein suggested after dinner.

“Do you know about the story of Adam and Eve?”

“Yes.”

As most stories go, the story of the first humans ends on a bittersweet note. But Aisha always thought that although Eve was tempted to sin, the price she paid was worth the knowledge she and Adam gained in the end. Heaven, or Olympus, is ill-suited for humanity. They thrive well enough without the gods’ interference.

“This garden is the Serpent’s final resting place. He was sentenced to Hell, so he came to me.”

Most of the dead don’t get a garden named after them in Sein’s castle. They cross over to the underworld and are sent to the river of souls immediately, where they stay for eternity.

“He was a minor god. He didn’t immediately die from his wounds, even though they were very severe.” Sein’s lips twist, as though living through an unpleasant memory. “When he finally passed on, pomegranates grew from his grave. I didn’t have the heart to remove them, and this space eventually became a garden.”

Sensing that she shouldn’t continue this line of questioning—Sein isn’t enthused about the topic—Aisha touches a low-hanging pomegranate. Its skin is waxy and smooth to the touch, glistening jewel red.

“How do the pomegranates taste?”

In answer, Sein plucks the pomegranate. He makes quick work slicing the pomegranate apart with his nails, revealing the wet and juicy flesh interior. His fingers are stained crimson.

He doesn’t offer her the fruit.

“I imagine they taste like sin, but what do I know?”

She learns that Sein enjoys reading nearly as much as she does. But unlike her, he’s had lifetimes to read through his extensive collection.

He reads faster than her; each time he’s at the library, he puts down his book in a quarter of the time it takes for Aisha to finish hers. Upon finding out her favorite genres, he occasionally gives recommendations, stating that they would suit her taste.

(He hasn’t proved her wrong yet.)

“I wish I had my own library.”

“Does Anya not have one?”

“No.”

Neither Anya nor Aida enjoy reading. Some days they even try to dissuade her from reading, claiming that she should take a break from reading because what can you find in books that you can’t find in real life, Aisha?

Everything, Aisha thinks. Fiction provides escape into the fantastical lives of characters with different joys and woes. Some of them she loves and relates to, while some of them she despises with a fiery passion, but they all make her feel. Conversely, non-fiction educates her about life on Earth, humanity’s scientific principles, philosophies, and various belief systems. She learns how to discern facts based on data and research, a concept foreign to deities. If there’s one thing humans are good at, it’s picking things apart to understand them fully.

“No, my mother prefers Aida and I to focus on… on beautifying nature.” Not that she’s remotely capable of doing that.

Sein hums. “How dull.”

“Aida is wonderful at what she does. But since I couldn’t do that, I turned to books to pass time. Haven’t stopped reading since. My mother still doesn’t approve.”

“Your mother is a fool.”

The insult takes her by surprise, and she snorts. “She has her ways.”

Sein isn’t amused, though. He clicks his tongue and puts the book down. Like her, he’s fond of fairy tales.

(The tales without happy endings.)

“I knew I had my eye on the right goddess.”

“You know, you’ve never mentioned how you got to know me.”

“I didn’t? Must have slipped my mind,” his eyes drift upwards, losing focus. “It might have been a few years ago. Springtime.”

She sets her book down to listen.

“I’ve heard plenty about Aida. My brothers are obsessed with her, as they are with any young woman, goddess or not. I usually don’t engage in their games, least of all when women are involved. I barely tolerate their company, let alone their childish fights. It drains me.

“Then out of nowhere, Carlo mentions Aida’s twin. My older brother isn’t picky with women, so I expected him to say something along the lines of choosing you if Aida weren’t an option. Imagine my surprise when he spoke of you with disgust, complaining that you reeked of rot and decay, and that he couldn’t get close to Aisha without you standing in his way. Nemo wasn’t as vocal as Carlo, but I could tell he was wary of you as well.”

He stretches out, draping an arm over the back of the armchair, fingers scant inches away from her hair. She stays put.

“Naturally, my curiosity was piqued. So I went looking for you.”

Surprisingly, Carlo’s negative comments don’t bother her. Others have said worse, and their words wear out overtime. She understands why people hate her, even if it’s for something beyond her control.

“And?” She prompts.

“And what?”

“Has your opinion of me changed in any way since?”

Then she feels it: a gentle tug on her hair.

“It’s definitely changed for the better.”

The dead body in front of her looks nothing like the picture on the coffin.

“Have you seen this before?” Sein asks kindly.

“No.”

She has a vague idea of why he brought her to a mortuary. Every part of her body is buzzing, restless for action. What kind of action, she doesn’t know.

“What happens after a soul leaves its body?”

She squints at him, wondering if he’s fooling around.

“Please bear with me.” He says.

“The soul goes to the underworld, and the body rots.”

“What is your power?”

“I…” Realization dawns on her. “I create rot.”

“Yes. Do you remember what you did to your mother’s garden?”

(She consciously tries not to remember.)

“You can use your powers here, on this corpse and its coffin. You’re allowed to.”

She looks at her hands in disbelief, then back at him. Sein nods.

This, Aisha thinks as she touches the coffin, which instantly blackens and crumbles, a pungent smell wafting outwards—

This is what freedom feels like.

During dinner that night, she bites into a pomegranate in front of him.

He disappears from his seat, dark shadows streaking across the dining table to where she is, and reappears next to her. Cold and clammy hands cradle her face—like that full moon night from so long ago—and then he kisses her fiercely. The pomegranate seeds are drops of acidic nectar, sliding down her throat, some spilling past her parted lips, no doubt leaving a bloody trail in their wake, and she thinks,

This is what freedom tastes like.

#aisha manhua #aisha #sein #aisha x sein #aisha/sein #aisha and sein are immortals here #fanfiction #ongoing #cloud castles #chapter 5

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wingedblooms · 2 years

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Hidden depths

We know that flowers, and in particular roses, are associated with Elain. Sarah has referred to Elain as a rose bloom in a mud field, a blooming flower in an army camp, and a bloom of color and sunshine even in winter. She embodies light and beauty and color, and has been admired (and hated) for that trait, which her own mother encouraged and belittled:

Elain is pleasant to look at, her mother had once mused while Nesta sat beside her dressing table, a servant silently brushing her mother’s gold-brown hair, but she has no ambition. She does not dream beyond her garden and pretty clothes.

But roses have layers. And that is what makes the rose symbolism in ACOSF even more important compared to what we have previously seen: the carved rose and rose amulet have hidden depths. Secrets that need to be uncovered. Sarah uses both gifts to suggest that there is more to our hopeful seer than meets the eye.

The Carved Rose

After reviewing the chapters around each bonus scene, I realized the carved rose’s appearance actually mirrors Elain’s change over the course of solstice. This may be another hint for her connection to the goddess of fate in CC, whose image remains elusive because she takes too many forms to capture. It certainly seems no coincidence that those we have met with the power of sight, and those who work in intelligence, also take on different forms or change their appearance. I have speculated that Elain’s dogged inquiry of Amren’s ability to change her form might foreshadow her own ability to change form. @kimsnnn noticed that this scene parallels another with Amren and Nesta. In that scene, Nesta pointedly asked about Amren’s silver eyes before we see silver flames surface in her own gaze, and in response, Amren predicts Nesta’s magical eruption at the end of the blood rite. So, there’s a decent chance Elain can change her appearance. In response to her questions, Amren says there’s no going back to being human. But returning to her human life does not make sense at this point, so could there be a different meaning? Might Elain go back in a different way? To a time to when a clever, human warrior lived instead? That would fulfill my wildest seer dreams. Regardless of what happens, I believe the solstice sequence leading up to Azriel’s bonus chapter intentionally hints Elain’s (half-)hidden gifts:

In Chapter 55, Nesta returns to the cottage and finds the rose Papa Archeron carved for Elain on the mantel:

She plucked another figurine from the mantel: a rose carved from a dark sort of wood. She held it in her palm, its solid weight surprising, and traced a finger over one of the petals. “He made this one for Elain. Since it was winter and she missed the flowers.”

Then, in Chapter 56, Nesta draws our attention back to Elain’s rose when she faces the traumatic memory fire conjures of her father’s death. She describes its appearance, half-hidden in shadows and made of a dark wood, and proximity to a primal goddess, who Nesta suspects is the Mother.

It was a fire. Not her father’s neck. Her gaze shifted to the carved wooden rose she’d placed upon the mantel, half-hidden in the shadows beside a figurine of a supple-bodied female, her upraised arms clasping a full moon between them. Some sort of primal goddess—perhaps even the Mother herself. Nesta hadn’t let herself dwell on why she’d felt the need to set the rose there. Why she hadn’t just thrown it in a drawer. Another log cracked, and Nesta flinched. But she remained sitting there. Staring at that carved rose.

So how does this appearance and proximity apply to Elain? Let’s take a look at the next two chapters. In Chapter 57, Sarah first shows us what Elain’s dark side looks like when she wears black and is overshadowed by Nesta:

Elain in black was ridiculous. Yes, she was beautiful, but the color of her long-sleeved, modest gown leeched the brightness from her face. It wore her, rather than the other way around. And he knew the cruelty of the Hewn City troubled her. But she hadn’t hesitated to come. When Feyre had offered to let her remain home, Elain had squared her shoulders and declared that she was a part of this court—and would do whatever was needed. So Elain had let her golden-brown hair down tonight, and pinned it back with twin combs of pearl. He’d never once in the two years he’d known her found Elain to be plain, but wearing black, no matter how much she claimed to be part of this court … It sucked the life from her.

As @thesistersarcheron mentioned in her post, Elain’s dark appearance in the Court of Nightmares (CoN) seems purposefully plain and modest. It lacks the vibrancy we’ve come to associate with her immortal appearance. Is it the clothing, jewelry, lighting, or some magic she possesses? She was the one who admiringly recalled in detail how Nesta used clothing and jewelry to lure a wealthy man away from someone who snubbed her sister. Without that recounting, this entire strategy wouldn’t exist. It intentionally makes us wonder, as it is meant to, about her abrupt change in appearance. Is it possible she borrowed her own sister’s strategy? After all, what good is keen observation if you don’t learn from the behavior of others? And, most importantly, it works: Eris remarks on how Elain, renowned for being the most beautiful sister, is outshined by Nesta. Even the setting is perfect for this strategy since the CoN served as a dark and terrifying facade of the Night Court for centuries to hide the secret, lovely beauty of Velaris.

It’s also important to remember that Elain has experience using her appearance to influence, or mislead, others. She is not afraid of getting her hands dirty for a pretty result, as Rhysand mused in his bonus chapter earlier. In ACOWAR, for example, she also did what was necessary to protect and save humans: she insisted on being the one to convince Graysen to give them sanctuary, given their familiarity, and even proposed a human glamour to ensure he would still listen to and trust her. He loathes the fae, so this strategy made sense and may have worked had Jurian not blown her cover ahead of time. Why is this glamour significant? It dims her immortal glow and makes her appear drab, muted, and ordinary, much like her appearance in the CoN. In fact, Sarah even uses some of the same phrasing:

Gone was the faint glow of immortal health; the face that had become a bit sharper. Gone were the pointed ears, the grace. Muted. Drab—or in the way that someone as beautiful as Elain could be drab. Even her hair seemed to have lost its luster, the gold now brassy, the brown mousy. Elain studied her hands, turning them over. “I hadn’t realized … how ordinary it looked.”

In the very next chapter (58), Sarah draws our attention to Elain’s appearance again as she glows with her usual immortality on solstice in Velaris, home to the Court of Dreams:

“You came,” Elain said behind her, and Nesta started, not having heard her sister approach. She scanned Elain from head to toe, wondering if she’d been taking lessons in stealth either from Azriel or the two half-wraiths she called friends. Gone was the ill-suited black dress from the ball, replaced by a gown of amethyst velvet, her hair half-up and curling down to her waist. She glowed with good health.

Nesta is surprised by Elain’s sudden appearance (again) and scans her from head to toe, as though she can unearth her secrets. Could it be that she is taking lessons in stealth from Azriel or her friends? What has she been doing all this time, in the shadows?

Curiously, she isn’t the first sister to look at Elain in surprise and wonder. In ACOFAS, Feyre and Elain are shopping for solstice, and wisely sensing her sister’s discomfort, Elain helps reframe their task:

“It’s their tradition, though,” Elain countered, her face still flushed with the cold. “One that they fought and died to protect in the war. Perhaps that’s the better way to think of it, rather than feeling guilty. To remember that this day means something to them. All of them, regardless of who has more, who has less, and in celebrating the traditions, even through the presents, we honor those who fought for its very existence, for the peace this city now has.”

For a moment, I just stared at my sister, the wisdom she’d spoken. Not a whisper of those oracular abilities. Just clear eyes and an open expression.

Leveraging her keen observation and long memory, Elain offers timely insight to Feyre and helps her overcome the discomfort she feels about buying gifts when there isn’t a dire need to do so. Surprised by her sister’s wisdom, she looks at her closely. How did she know exactly what to say and when to say it? Did those oracular gifts still exist? There was no whisper of them. Through this exchange, we also learn that gifting means something to Elain. It’s not just about giving and getting more stuff. Her gifts are always useful and chosen just for the receiver, subtly revealing just how much she sees and cares. They spread beauty and joy and hope even in the bleakest of moments.

In the next book, we find out that her gifts from the Cauldron—whatever they are—remain intact, and we see Elain’s keen observation and vivid memory quietly help her other sister. She provides timely insight (again) to Rhysand and Cassian, which in turn brings Nesta joy and beauty and hope on solstice. Neither the CoN scene, where she dances to her heart’s content, nor the musical gift, which gives her endless music at her fingertips, would have happened without her sister’s insight. Our lovely seer sees and understands more than people realize.

I believe it is significant that this parallel of sisterly surprise occurs during the events of solstice both times. First, in a scene where Elain and Feyre learn about the threads of Void and Hope…

“I call it Void. It absorbs the light. Creates a complete lack of color.”

“You made it?” Elain asked, now staring over her shoulder toward the tapestry.

A solemn nod. “A newer experiment of mine. To see how darkness might be made, woven. To see if I could take it farther, deeper than any weaver has before.”

“The silver thread,” Elain asked. “What is that called?”

The weaver paused the loom again, the colorful strings vibrating. She held my sister’s gaze. No attempt at a smile this time. “I call it Hope.” The weaver explained to my sister, “I made it after I mastered Void.”

I stared and stared at the black fabric that was like peering into a pit of hell.

And then stared at the iridescent, living silver thread that cut through it, bright despite the darkness that devoured all other light and color.

…and then again in a solstice sequence where Elain reflects Void and Hope in her appearance, leeched of brightness in the Court of Nightmares and glowing with immortality in the Court of Dreams. Is it a coincidence that, unlike Elain, Nesta glows brightly in a court associated with nightmares? It’s possible that the silver thread embroidering Nesta’s dress is more than a mere thread. And wasn’t it Amren who suggested Nesta would create not a Dread Trove, but a Trove of Nightmares with her powers? On the other side of the coin, Elain is associated with a sleeping garden. Would her powers therefore create a Trove of Dreams? The Night Court, and the High Lord himself of course, embodies both nightmares and dreams.

My friends and I have talked about the Void and Hope scene often and @silverlinedeyes even wrote a post about Elain wearing or using Void in her story. After learning about these threads and what they symbolized, did she learn how to harness Void (darkness) and Hope (iridescent light) in her appearance? How far/deep can she take it? Is it connected to her murky realm, like I have theorized, which links her to the Cauldron and grants her access to Void? Will she use the Void to peer into Hel and create Hope by securing allies, like Aidas and others? I believe that’s exactly what she’s going to do and it’s interesting that there are potential hints (in blue above) for it in the Void and Hope scene.

When she glows on the darkest and longest night of the year, Elain is bright despite the darkness in color. She has developed a particular habit of wearing amethyst on solstice, so I did some investigating. Amethyst is a calming color that is associated with the gemstone. It can change color when exposed to the light (interesting), and appear warm (red) or cool (blue) as well as light or dark. The gemstone is believed to have protective and healing properties. Some even believe it can connect wearers to the divine and produce more soothing dreams, as well as lead to greater understanding and peace. A fitting color for a seer who is connected to gods, shifting, knowledge, and renewal in the Court of Dreams, no?

The Rose Amulet

The solstice sequence leads to Azriel’s bonus chapter, where he gives her a rose amulet (historically used for help/protection) that is strikingly similar to the carved rose and Void and Hope:

The golden necklace seemed ordinary—its chain unremarkable, the amulet tiny enough that it could be dismissed as an everyday charm. It was a small, flat rose fashioned of stained glass, designed so that when held to the light, the true depth of colors would become visible. A thing of secret, lovely beauty.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered, lifting it from the box. The golden faelight shone through the little glass facets, setting the charm glowing with hues of red and pink and white. Azriel let his shadows whisk away the box as she said softly, “Put it on me?”

Soft steps padded from under the stair archway, and there she was. The faelight gilded Elain’s unbound hair, making her glow like the sun at dawn.

Elain’s appearance and behavior parallels both the rose amulet and carved rose. As a gift, this rose sends a clear message: Azriel knows there is more to Elain than meets the eye. He knows she has hidden depths, and that acknowledgement may be one of the many reasons she embraces it so emphatically.

It is also no coincidence that, like her appearance, her behavior is mostly hidden in the book and bonus. She’s a mystery, or what you might call a secret, lovely beauty. But I think Nesta gives us a big hint, which is then mirrored in the bonus chapter: the carved rose is next to what she believes is the Mother. And it is the Mother that Azriel invokes when they are together. In fact, there is quite a bit of religious language in their encounter…

Letting his scarred fingers touch her immaculate skin.

He prayed she didn’t peer down. Prayed she didn’t understand the shift in his scent.

He’d beg on his knees for a chance to taste it.

Sacrilege for his fingers to touch her.

Just this taste in the dead of the longest night of the year, where only the Mother might witness them.

Offer and permission.

Sarah makes it clear that Azriel is desperate to worship Elain. Is this another hint for her link to the Mother? I speculate about this in a reblog on her murky realm and its connection to divinity and fate. Elain may have even experimented with these powers in ACOSF, starting off as a gentle voice and gradually building toward a luminescent (protective) hand.

Iridescent light began flowing from Nesta’s body. Into Feyre.

Tendrils of light drifted between the sisters. And one, delicate and loving, floated toward Mor. To the bundle in her arms, setting the silent babe within glowing bright as the sun.

The iridescence filled her, filled Feyre, filled the bundle in Mor’s arms, lighting his friend’s face so the shock on it was etched in stark relief.

A bargain. With the Cauldron itself. Yet Cassian could have sworn a luminescent, gentle hand prevented the light from leaving her body altogether.

The Mother. The only being who would see the sacrifice Nesta had made and give a little back. Perhaps it was she who had peered out at them through the Mask.

By the end of ACOSF, we see the pretty result of this influence:

Her father had died for her, with love in his heart, and Nesta held love in her own heart as she pulled the small, carved rose from her pocket and set it upon the gravestone. A permanent marker of the beauty and good he’d tried to bring into the world.

She found Feyre and Elain waiting halfway down the hill, Nyx now dozing peacefully in Elain’s arms. Her sisters beamed, beckoning her to join. And Nesta smiled back, her steps light as she hurried down the hill to meet them.

If Elain can use her seer (which seem to be a combination of oracular and mystic) abilities to help, will she continue to act quietly in the shadows? Or will we finally be able to see what our secretive seer is up to in the next book? I’m personally hoping that Sarah begins to shine a light on these mysterious activities in CC3.

#elain archeron #seer elain #acotar theory #elain theory

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gravityilluminated · 3 months

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SONG CHALLENGE

Share at least 5 10 songs that you associate with or remind you of your muse ! Repost , don’t reblog !

ARTHUR RIMBAUD !

1. FLOWERS FOR MOM — WE SKEEM

Wake up , 6 in the morning , Dad just left , Mama’s still snoring , go out in the garden despite the forewarning , pick yellow flowers to show I’m adoring . Mama says she loves them , puts them in the bag , I guess that’s a stern difference from when she’ll call her son a fag . Don’t mean to be a drag , I’d like to plant a different flag , but this tapestry you left for me is putting joy on dirty rags . Gather flowers for Mom , try to write a nice song , let the memories sway , here is where we began , let the memory stand & plant the dismay . Get the flowers for Mom go ahead play song with a cliché trope , so the story begins it won’t cover the sins that remove my hope .

The earliest memories that I think that I have , are of my mother screaming at me as I cry for my dad . See I never put this thing into a journal with ink , it’s just a memory that has always crept up when I think . Dad was beatin’ on Mama ; Mom protected my brothers , but when it came to me , my only shielding was the covers . A victim of my circumstance reminded her of Dad , I never really had a chance , to her my soul itself was bad . I don’t mean to complain , but once upon a loser , I started as a kid to who his family was an intruder . When labelled as an outcast by people who were strangers , I saw it as the usual & never sensed the danger . The truth flows in my veins , I’ll always be a loser , I thought myself insane to compensate for my abusers , & when the truth felt sour , I picked my mother flowers , I liked the quiet of alone & that way for hours .

2. MONOPHOBIA — ACE OF HEARTS

If you had to choose between being unhappy or alone would you know which to choose ? If you woke up the next morning & you didn’t have a past , did it mean that your wish came true ? Since I had to ask you if your words are still true , don’t you think I should just know ? Lapses in your breathing while my head is ringing , heard this voice & it asked me : “ Have you ever wanted to feel anything at all ? ”

I guess we ran out of time & then next is love . Counting on the clock , it’s true , feels like purgatory , ending of our story . I can still say “ I love you . ” I want to be happy & I’m sure you agree . Tell me why is it so hard ?

3. HOPE UR OKAY — OLIVIA RODRIGO

We don’t talk much , but I just gotta say , I miss you & I hope that you’re okay . Address the letters to the holes in my butterfly wings . Nothing’s forever , nothing’s as good as it seems ; & when the clouds won’t iron out , & the monsters creep into your house , & every door is hard to close . Well I hope you know how proud I am you were created , with the courage to unlearn all of their hatred . But , God , I hope you’re happier today . ‘Cause I love you & I hope that you’re okay .

4. HIT ME — WE SKEEM

Turns out everybody hates me , only ten & I reel in hazing , I would say this stuff don’t faze me , but I ain’t crazy ! Well , not yet , maybe ? Set the stage for a brand new drama , skinny boy with a vengeful momma , all the stuff they say at church , it kinda hurt , but my mom spews worse ! So go out & get scorned , then go home & get more , my true self looks deformed , I try my best but I can’t conform ! But here's a trick to deal with little pricks — a blow to the face only hurts a bit of you predict the hit , bitch I’m inviting it !

I ain’t making friends , I know how this ends , dealer gave me tens so HIT ME HIT ME HIT ME ! You say that I’ll break , boy this money’s fake , I’d rather give so take & hit me hit me hit me hit me ! Come on , come all to the main attraction , the little man made for your satisfaction ! Hit me once & feel the action , tear me down to patch your lacking . I'm not real , I pretend to be , nobody knows him , not even me . At ten years old trade identity for self-deprecating energy !

5. WHEN THE SUN LOVES THE MOON — REINAEIRY

When the sun loves the moon , even the ocean feels her pull . Oh , & the stars align every night , to spell out their love in tiny bright lights . Oh , when the sun loves the moon , never touching but never far . Oh , at the break of day , a summer’s ray . A moonlit night that casts away …

Their love remains , their love remains . Oh , oh , oh . Oh , oh , when the sun loves the moon … Her golden light , her silver hues . A beautiful song , oh , how they long , for dawn …

6. EVERYTHING’S ALRIGHT — LAURA SHIGIHARA

Short steps , deep breath , everything is alright . Chin up , I can’t … step into the spotlight . He said ‘ I’m sad ’ somehow without any words . I just stood there , searching for an answer . Why do my words always lose their meaning ? What I feel , what I say , there’s such a rift between them . He said , ‘ I can’t really seem to read you . ’ I just stood there , never know what I should do .

When this world is no more , the moon is all we’ll see . I’ll ask you to fly away with me . Until the stars all fall down , they empty from the sky . But I don’t mind , if you’re with me , then everything’s alright .

7. EVERY TIME THE RAIN COMES DOWN — ANNA BLUE

You’re fighting a demon , your heart keeps on bleeding , you’re feeling so close to the edge . Don’t jump . You’re losing your temper , you want to surrender , I’m talking you down from the ledge . Come take my hand . You won’t go lonely into this fight , or you just hold me , we will survive .

All your tears are in vain , & it drives you insane . 'Cause nobody cares if you cry , but I'll be there . Deep inside , there's a riot . I feel that you're tired . You don't wanna live a lie , I'm there for you . Every time the rain comes down , when the rain comes down . I’m the one who’ll be around , the one who’ll be around . I’ll become a part of you & share your pain .

8. ARTIFICIAL — WE SKEEM

Thinking back , everything felt right . No phone to check , just mask & morning light . Everything is looking wonderful & simplistic . Perhaps it’s just a memory but it seems so realistic . Throw on a CDR I mixed for when I’m driving far , ‘ Hello , Goodbye ’ & P.O.D. the tonal shifts don’t bother me . I’m a confused & sappy teen , an Emo kid or is it Scene ? I guess I’m somewhere in between . Depression & anxiety . There’s no time , no rust is showing . Feeling scared but never showing , so embarrassed just by knowing , we were kids we were kids before overflowing . Looking outward , it’s artificial , remember all the things that made us feel potential . Focus inward , it’s superficial , we’re never going to sleep , no , we took this dismissal .

But I’m still stuck inside this ever - rotting body , excuse me while I drown myself on my ever gaudy hobbies . Throw on some music I finished just an hour ago , play it on repeat ‘til the tape breaks in my stereo . I barely hear it now while fighting thoughts so cynical of all those pesky memories of trying to drown in swimming pools . Sometimes memories will tell you all was light or dark blue , neither one is true when your life’s always been the same way . You lie to get through your day , no matter how your mood sways . You’ll pretend you’re okay , every up or down phase , but the joy you’re longing for is lost in pockets of your mental age .

9. A SHOT IN THE DARK — WITHIN TEMPTATION

I've been left out alone like a damn criminal , I've been praying for help cause I can't take it all . I'm not done , it’s not over . Now I'm fighting this war since the day of the fall , & I'm desperately holding on to it all . But I'm lost . I'm so damn lost . Oh I wish it was over , & I wish you were here . Still I'm hoping that somehow …

Cause your soul is on fire . A shot in the dark . What did they aim for when they missed your heart ? I breathe underwater , it's all in my hands . What can I do ? Don't let it fall apart . A shot in the dark .

10. SMOKE SIGNALS — CAVETOWN

I know I’m a freak , ripped the Band - Aid , broke the peace , took the lock but lost the key . Guess I set you free . I hope you’ve found a place to sleep , I know you’re bound to think of me . You can come home to me when you’re ready , I left the gate unlocked for you . ‘Til then I’m sending out smoke signals , hoping I’ll see yours too .

When the dust has set , settled up & done our debts , nothing left to go collect . If you’re feeling spent , when it’s heavy on your chest , when you think there’s nothing left . You can come home to me when you’re ready , I left the gate unlocked for you . ‘Til then I’m sending out smoke signals , hoping I’ll see yours too . I miss you .

Tagged by: @effigist

Tagging: @prodigls @giftandguile @selfnss @barxlupin @corruptiongifted

#Hahaha…. I’m not okay 😭#{ DASH GAMES }#Suicide //#Implied Suicide //#Drowning //#Mental Illness //#Depression //#Child Abuse //#Domestic Violence //#Amnesia //#Memory Loss //#Disability //#Bullying //#slurs //#homophobia //

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ms0milk · 1 year

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i found this fic i wrote in 2014 (when i was 14) and i'm obsessed,, it's honestly not bad at all lmao pls enjoy my baby-kill la kill-throwback

(i literally just copypaste from my old email account so everything below this line is an untouched primary document 🤭)

Title: Dating for Dummies

Pairing: Gamagoori/Mako

Rating: T (<- what does this mean? -2022 pom)

Disclaimer: not beta’d and Gama is best dork

(based off of ^this^ end credit cap -2022 pom)

Gamagoori clutched the pink bouquet with shaking hands and mutely followed the other Devas through the streets. He hoped he didn’t vomit. Or faint. He wasn’t sure which was more likely; his entire body seemed to be fighting a war with itself. A war of nerves.

“We should have brought an extra change of clothes,” Nonon mused. “But Froggy had to wear a suit. Are you proposing or confessing?”

He stared at the bright pink flowers and chose to ignore her teasing. The snake would always lead with its fangs, after all. Even in the case of helping someone else. She was helping, and that was what mattered.

“They’ve stopped again,” Inumuta informed them, looking at his tablet. The tracking device in Satsuki’s purse allowed them to easily follow the trio.

Gamagoori somehow managed to look up from the flowers to focus on the little blinking light on the tablet screen. He swallowed. They were only a few blocks away now which indicated it was almost time. His eyes swung back to the flowers and he clenched them tighter. He couldn’t remember a time where he was more nervous. Standing up to the bullies, fighting Satsuki, waging war against the life fibers…no prior event had caused his insides to twist in such a way. He tried to calm himself by taking slow, even breaths, but his heart rate remained stubbornly elevated and he was still perspiring heavily.

Nonon, always one to sense any amount of weakness of will, stood before him with a scrutinizing look. “I gave up going shopping for you,” she informed him darkly. “You better not back out.”

Gamagoori nodded. “I know.”

He understood this was a matter of do or die. Soon it would be over with and he could relax again. Gamagoori tried to look forward to the future but found it was impossible to predict. If she wasn’t interested what would he feel? What would he do? The tiny, pink flowers had no answer for him, so instead he tried to work on what he wanted to say. Yes, no point in thinking that far ahead. For now he needed to practice what he would say to win Mako’s heart.

Gamagoori closed his eyes. Now, he thought. How should I put it?

He remained still, hunched against the wall as he meditated…until all at once his eyes bugged out. He’d been so worried about everything else he hadn’t even considered what to say. His mind was a complete blank. He couldn’t string any sort of meaningful love declarations, no poetic recitations, and certainly no sweet-nothings. At the moment, he could barely remember his own name.

Gamagoori’s breathing rate began to increase again as his panic rose. How could he have forgotten to come up with a good line? Something. Anything. He looked dumbly down at the flowers, which were starting to look both blurry and patronizing. A shocking feat for mere flowers.

“Here they come,” Inumuta warned.

He jumped to his feet without knowing why. They were coming and Gamagoori had nothing to say. He had flowers and nothing else. Just himself; a large, mute man who couldn’t even properly speak to the girl he liked. But he was going to try. No matter what, he was going to try.

Inumuta adjusted his glasses and looked up at him. “I took the liberty of placing note cards in your jacket pocket. In case you find yourself…without words.”

Gamagoori look down, surprised. “Y-yes. Alright.”

“You don’t need note cards,” Uzu voiced. “Just speak from the heart.”

He nodded again. “From the heart…” All he could truly muster was parroted responses. At a later point he would communicate his gratitude towards them for their help. For now it was all he could do to stay standing.

“There they are,” Nonon voiced, excited. “It’s time!” She waved a hand at him and said, “Good luck, Froggy.” Soon she was dashing out to intercept the girls, followed shortly by Inumuta and Uzu. They gave him a passing thumbs-up, and he was left alone with his flowers.

This is it.

He would not hide anymore. It was time for him to truly, truly go Nudist. With his heart, at least.

Gamagoori moved out from the cover the building provided, looking across the street where the group had met up. Nonon was directing Mako to a food stand down the way, and the girl had run off eagerly, her large bag of goods bouncing behind her. He headed in the same direction, planning to intercept her. His expression was one of determination with a tinge of nausea. Now that he was finally acting, his body at least seemed to be behaving correctly. Steely-gray eyes remained fixed on his target as he closed the distance between them.

Suddenly, a crowd of people spilled out of a bus, clogging the path with pedestrians. At the same time some moving-men began moving large furniture right in his path. It was as if the world had all at once conspired against him in the most non-humorous way possible. Briefly he took his eyes off of Mako as he picked his way past people and furniture, and when he looked back up he couldn’t see her amongst the crowd. Gamagoori stopped, eyes scanning for the engorged bag that Mako had been carrying. Even though he was larger than everyone, he didn’t immediately spot her.

“Mankanshoku…” he muttered, moving forward again. He needed to remain calm. She couldn’t have gotten far, and he knew where the food stand was located. The busy sidewalk was only a minor annoyance. He would find her.

When Gamagoori reached the stand, his heart sank. She wasn’t there, and he hadn’t seen her along the way. He looked at the store fronts, wondering if she made a side-stop in any of the buildings nearby. If he had to, he’d check them all. With another glance around the area he spotted a bulbous round bag. There she was.

He pushed through the people and called, “Mankanshoku!” Half-stumbling, he made it to the curb, eyes catching the sight of a large round bag…being thrown into the back of a garbage truck. Gamagoori’s shoulders slumped. It hadn’t been her at all. His panic was beginning to rise now. He didn’t know if he could bear facing Satsuki knowing that he had managed to lose Mako in the crowds. The hand that clutched the pink bouquet hung loosely at his side.

What should he do now?

“Oh! Is that you, Gamagoori-senpai?”

Gamagoori turned at the sound, wide-eyes falling on the very girl he had lost. “M-Mankanshoku…”

Mako was looking at him with a tilted head. “Wow you look all dressed up today,” she said. Then she jumped in surprise, pointing at the flowers. “F-flowers!? Oh gosh t-this…I know what this is!”

His brows snapped together. “Y-you…you do?” Inwardly he sighed in relief. Leave it to Mako to understand, yet again, what he was truly feeling. He should have never worried.

“Yes!” she confirmed. Her hands snapped up above her head and for a moment she appeared cloaked in a faint light (<- if you don't watch the show you don't understand what a hysterical addition to the fic this is -2022 pom). “The suit, the flowers, and all of the other things up until now. The entire atmosphere and even the Confession Moon! It was all leading up to the same thing.”

(it's genuinely alarming how accurate i got this characterization, pls god watch the show and read this again -2022 pom)

He tried to follow, but she was moving around very enthusiastically and making gestures that he couldn’t decipher. “Ah, y-yes. That’s what I-”

Mako held her hand up suddenly. “You don’t have to explain yourself! I understand.”

A warm, bubbly feeling spread through his chest at her words. His cheeks were red, but he looked at her with a tender expression. “Mankanshoku…”

She smiled, bright and cheery. He had feared for no reason. This person would not harm him, surely. She was kind and honest and brave. Why had he been afraid?

“We’re friends, senpai, so I’m going to help you! I’ll help make sure your confession goes perfectly!”

He blinked down at her with a dreamy expression before his expectations completely shattered. Gamagoori didn’t attempt to mask his horror as he stuttered, “N-no, M-Mankanshoku, you d-don’t-”

Mako made a sound of disappointment as she nimbly snagged the bouquet from his hand. “Aww, senpai, something happened to your flowers.” She waved the broken and droopy bouquet in front of him before tossing it over her shoulder. “If you’re going to confess you should buy some better flowers first. I’ll help you pick some out!”

Before he could muster a response, she took hold of his finger and dragged him along through the crowd. Those in their path wisely moved out of the way; Mako was too busy detailing all the reasons why he couldn’t possibly make a confession without nice flowers to notice anyone else. She pulled him to an outdoor market full of stands selling various wares.

“Mankanshoku, I have to-”

“Flowers!” she broke in, pointing. She tugged him forward again, ending up in front of a colorful flower stand. “Ooo! They’re all so bright and pretty!”

“Thank you,” the stand’s owner replied, her wrinkly face stretching in a smile.

“Hmm, what do you think would work best, senpai?” Mako asked, scrutinizing over the selection. “You probably have to think of their meaning.”

She grabbed a bouquet of yellow daisies and held it aloft saying, “These are saying ‘you are the sun in my sky’.” Then she exchanged those for some pink carnations. “And this is ‘my feelings are like a gentle blush’.” Her next pick became red roses. “These say ‘my blood is raging with passion for you’.” Mako’s face became serious as she advised, “These are only for the most serious intentions, senpai. Are you ready for that? You know. That.” He watched as Mako made a strange gesture which involved her pinky.

No, he certainly didn’t know that. He was starting to sweat more again at the very suggestion of…whatever that was. “Uh…” he uttered lamely, looking between the flowers and her intent expression. “What do you suggest, Mankanshoku? Surely you can advise me well.”

Mako blinked and then smiled wide. “I won’t let you down!” Gamagoori thought he could bask in such a smile endlessly. It warmed him to his core and chased away any apprehension that remained. He wanted to receive that smile from her again and again.

“I think this one!” Mako announced finally, choosing a multicolor bouquet. It was rather large but packed with a diverse number of flowers of different colors.

“Why this one?” he asked, honestly curious.

Mako stood triumphantly, hands on her hips as she explained, “Because it says ‘I want everything’! Gamagoori-senpai isn’t the type to hold back his emotions.” Mako punched the air in front of her. “You let them all out.”

Gamagoori quickly attempted to cover his blush. “That…that is a good answer, Mankanshoku.” He turned to pay the old woman while feeling light-headed. While Mako was not the most observant or attentive about certain things, in other ways she understood a lot more than one would expect. It was what made her so incomprehensible. That was simply her.

After he had paid he turned back to her and asked, “What else can I do, Mankanshoku?”

Mako took on a thoughtful expression. “It couldn’t hurt to give her some cute gifts! Girls like cute gifts.”

He nodded and picked up her large bag to carry it for her. “Alright.” Bashfully, he held out his hand and said, “Take my hand, Mankanshoku. So I don’t lose you.”

She placed her hand in his without hesitation and led the way. Gamagoori held her small hand gently as he allowed her to pull him to various stands. He felt content in a way he had never felt before. Never would he have expected such simple acts to feel so meaningful.

Whatever Mako suggested he was willing to accept. She looked overjoyed that she was being helpful to him. Chocolates, stuffed animals, matching cellphone charms. Mako pointed out things and advised him on why they would be perfect. She truly wanted to see him succeed and had no inkling that it was entirely about her in the first place.

Finally, when she was satisfied he had enough gifts and his arms were loaded with all the things she suggested he buy, Mako decided they should head back so Gamagoori could have his ‘shining moment’. The small girl bounced excitedly in front of him as she led the way, commenting on how she didn’t think anyone could say no to him. He smiled faintly at the encouragement before he looked ahead of them. The group was in sight now.

“Mankanshoku,” he voiced, stopping. “I have to tell you the truth.”

Mako stopped moving and turned to watch as he knelt, shifting all of the items and placing them before her. This time he was more careful with the flowers which he held out in the space between them.

For a moment, Mako simply stared. But then she clapped her hands together and said, “Oh yeah! Maybe you should practice what you want to say.” Mako ruffled her fingers through her hair and posed dramatically. “I’m ready. Steal my heart, if you can.”

Gamagoori swallowed. She had truly taken on a daunting form, but he wouldn’t let that stop him. “Mankanshoku!” he said loudly, his face steely determination. “I like you! Please accept my invitation to go on a date! The time and place is of your choosing!”

Finally he had said it. Gamagoori watched Mako’s face, waiting for her response. She appeared to be contemplating his words carefully. That was fine with him. He would rather her be completely certain than feel forced into something she didn’t want. The choice was now hers.

After a long pause, Mako broke her pose and clapped eagerly. “That was great, senpai.” She placed a hand on the back of her head, smiling bashfully. “I was so caught up in the moment I almost forgot it was for someone else. You probably should say the name of the girl when you practice. Ahh…she’s going to love it…” She was smiling dreamily with a far off look in her eyes.

Gamagoori revealed a small smile and said, “I did say her name.”

Mako’s mouth opened into an ‘o’ shape and she stared at him for many long moments. He remained where he was, waiting for her to come to her own conclusion. The moment broke with Mako jumping and exclaiming loudly, “What?! M-m-me?!”

“Yes. You.” He blushed deeply from where he knelt before her. “Forgive me, for taking so long.”

It was then that Mako was reduced to a babbling mess, gesturing and speaking too quickly for anyone to truly understand. Gamagoori finally felt calm; the release of his feelings had freed him from his fear. Gently he took hold of her hand and set the bouquet before her. She grasped it, settling down as she looked at the vibrant flowers.

“You are right. I want everything.”

She blushed, burying her face into the flowers. It appeared that now she was the one who could not speak. By then, the others were coming towards them. Most specifically, Ryuuko was. It seemed the diversion tactics had finally worn out.

“What the hell is going on?” Ryuuko asked, staring at Gamagoori kneeling and the pile of gifts in front of him. Mako turned, waddled on wobbly legs, and planted her red face into Ryuuko’s chest. “Wha…what’s wrong, Mako?!”

The response was muffled, but not enough to mask the meaning. “I’ve got a…d-date with Gamagoori-senpai!”

His heart soared.

rereading this i actually really love the concept and even 8 1/2 years later the characterization totally holds up! i'm also immediately rewatching kill la kill 🙈 14yo me deserves a nobel prize

#pom.chat #kill la kill #ira gamagoori #mako mankanshoku #sfw

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novaloo · 6 months

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Inevitable - part eight - The nightmares came true

He paced back and forth, smiling wider and wider, laughing louder and louder. At one point he stopped, still gesturing around. Until the frenzy of thoughts could not be kept inside any longer.

Dr Sunshine began musing, his voice melodic as usual, but with an unfamiliar touch.

"When did I become afraid of the dark?

Are my eyeballs just yet to adjust to seeing the light?

The room I'm in is still the same

The shadows have not rearranged it

No, the only thing that's changed is how I see at night

I fumble for the switch

And strap on infrareds and wish

For sunshine when the morning's somewhere else!..."

For just a line he lost that melodic note, but then it returned.

"But I can't change what time it is

Or dilate my irises

Only what I look at

And I'm looking at myself!...

I am not the sunshine

I am not the moon at night

Well, who else could I be

When I can hardly see?

I am not the sunshine

I am not the moon at night

I'm no one if I'm nowhere in between!"

Then Sunshine laughed to himself, a mad tone to it.

"When did I become afraid of the dark?

Was it when I left the cave and swore I'd never go back?

If we can't see each other, then there's no more use for hiding

I've decided I'll abide it

Why deny the color black?

I'm not a flower

Not a solar-powered calculator

Damn my eyes for seeing what's not there!..."

Once again, for a brief moment his nice tone ceased, before reappearing again. His eyes shined slightly in the faint light coming through the window, expression turning gentler, as if suddenly remembering something fond.

"I'll trade in vision for a practiced intuition!

'Til my fears come to fruition!

I'm not scared!~..."

But as fast as it came, as fast it was gone. The mad smile returned.

"I am not the sunshine

I am not the moon at night

Well, who else could I be

When I can hardly see?

I am not the sunshine

I am not the moon at night

I'm no one if I'm nowhere in between!"

He kept gesturing around. His voice was slowly turning into something of a scream.

"The future must know where you've been

The past predicts the state you're in...!

The present did and will not last!

Is, isn't, was, have, hasn't, has!..."

Suddenly his tone grew gentle as he motioned towards the mirror, expression almost pleading.

"All that I ask is, keep those empty frames

If nobody's in them, then no one is to blame...

For your self-portraits, sign another name

Well, who should I be then, if I'll never be the same?..."

The intonation suddenly changed once again, this time into the so very familiar, yet unfamiliar, melodic scream.

"I will be my sunshine!

I will be my moon at night!

Who else could I be

When I can't fucking see?!

I will be my sunshine!

I will be my moon at night!"

His voice cracked a little, and began quieting down.

"I'm nowhere now

There's no one now to... be﹏"

By now, Julie was very concerned. She wanted to check up on Dr Sunshine. But as she carefully opened the door and stepped through, he immediately dragged her to dance. Just as the last time, she did not oppose. Even if for just a while, he appeared like a sane man.

"And if dreams can come true

What does that say about nightmares...?"

Sunshine mused as he spinned along with Julie, eventually leaning extremely close to her. It was almost like a hug. And he finally whispered...

"I'll stay awake tonight..."

For a while they stayed motionless. Finally, they subtly pulled away from each other.

– Julie, my dear, I'd like to ask for your assistance with a certain matter... – Dr Sunshine said, a slightly ominous smirk on his lips.

– What should I do, doctor?

He grabbed a knife from a table, handed it to her and looked into her eyes. As he did so, a shiver ran down her spine. His gaze was absent. Wild. Unfamiliar.

– ...Kill me – Sunshine replied so casually. Like it was a normal thing.

Julie's eyes widened, and her heart started racing. What now?

– W... what...? – she stammered out, still not quite believing her senses.

– Kill me – he repeated.

– I... N-no, doctor, I... I can't...

– Yes, you can, Julie. Kill me.

– Doctor, I... N-no, it is wrong...

– It is not wrong. I asked for it myself. Kill me.

It carries on like this for a while. She keeps refusing, he keeps insisting, but by no means is he forcing her. She cannot handle this thought alone. She cannot bring herself to do it.

That is when Annica returned. The daughter of death appeared behind Julie's back, carrying an old axe, its silver blade stained with dry blood. Her eyes are feral.

She took a swing. With an unknown force, Julie's body moved. The knife was now in Dr Sunshine's chest.

He let out a laugh as he fell to his knees. He then looked up at Julie. His smile was still mad and unfamiliar, but that small spark of humanity shone through his eyes.

– Thank you... – the scientist muttered out before collapsing on the floor.

Julie's mind is screaming, thoughts running a mile a second. She can barely hear Annica laugh sinisterly.

Her legs gave up. She started sobbing as she sat there, right beside his dead body.

The sun began to rise.

***

Cotard entered the lobby, seeing Julie sitting at the small table there, her expression thoughtful and with a tinge of sadness.

– Hello, miss Julie – he greeted.

– Ah... Good day, Cotard... Are you looking for Dr Sunshine?

– Yes, I am. Is he available right now?

– I'm sorry... – she stood up from her seat and walked over to the side of the table, finally raising her gaze to look Cotard right in the face. – ...He's dead.

Cotard didn't even look all that surprised.

– Dr Sunshine is dead? What happened?

– I... – Julie looked down again, struggling to let the truth through her throat. – I killed him...

– Oh? But why? You liked him, didn't you?

She turned around, facing away from him, her eyes shiny with tears, sorrow twisting her lips.

– ...I loved him.

– Then why did you murder him? – Cotard asked, despite knowing the answer very well.

– He... – her voice was trembling slightly. – He asked me to... And then something helped me to fulfill his wish...

– Ah... I see. I shalln't be taking any more of your time then. Goodbye, miss Julie.

And without a word more, Cotard left, leaving the assistant alone as she began sobbing again.

***

Mr Capgras was standing in front of the secondhand vanity that he once gifted to Dr Sunshine, tracing his fingers along the mirror frame.

– And if dreams can come true... – he mused to himself. – What does that say about nightmares?

Capgras stared into his own eyes for a moment before a faint smile tugged at his lips.

– I'll stay awake tonight...

He then left the room, leaving it in complete darkness.

A reflection of shadow glistened inside the mirror.

#i write #inevitable #will wood #dr sunshine is dead #SELF-iSH #Dr Sunshine #Julie #Mr Capgras #Cotard #Cotard Calamitas #Annica #daughters of disaster #tw strong language #frens I fucking did it #ohhhh my god #there's only the epilogue left #it might take longer than a week tho I beg your patience

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