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slattlicker · 2 days ago

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╭﹐✦˚₊· 𖤐 * K I S S I T B E T T E R ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ ╮

a jschlatt x female!reader NSFW multi-chapter fic !! MDNI (18+)

↳ 4.5k words · age gap · bf's dad au

╰﹒♡₊˚๑ *✧﹒✦ ࣪ ˖ ┊

⟡ C H A P T E R · O N E ⇢ C O N T I N U E ?

✦ written with a female!reader in mind ✦

(but anyone is welcome ♡)

you weren’t planning to fall apart in his kitchen.

he wasn’t planning to catch you.

but when he does—it’s with both hands.

✧ ⊹ · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · ⊹ ✧

╭˚₊‧͙⁺˚₊‧͙✧　❛ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ❜　✧‧͙˚₊⁺‧͙˚₊╮

✧ age gap (reader is 21, schlatt is 40s)

✧ hurt/comfort, emotional vulnerability, implied neglect

✧ dom-adjacent vibes, tension, power dynamic

╰˚₊‧͙⁺˚₊‧͙✧　❛ 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐄 ❜　✧‧͙˚₊⁺‧͙˚₊╯

✧ ⊹ · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · ⊹ ✧

a/n + disclaimer: i would just like to state that i do NOT justify, agree with, participate in, nor am trying to promote ANY of the behavior or toxic thinking in this series !!

please read this knowing it is a fictional story and made for the purposes of exploring a fantasy that would and should never take place.

૮₍ ´• ˕ •` ₎ა enjoy!

you open the door slow. quietly. like maybe you’re the one intruding.

you’ve done this a dozen times—come over unannounced, let yourself in when things felt tense, hoping to patch it all up with some soft apology and a hoodie that still smelled like him.

but tonight feels… different.

the house is warm. warmer than usual. the entryway light is on, casting a soft yellow glow down the hall, and you can hear music coming from the living room. something gentle. old-school. like a vinyl playing from a speaker on low.

you smile, almost against your will.

maybe he’s in a good mood tonight.

maybe he knew you were coming.

maybe this is the moment it turns around.

your fingers tighten on the strap of your bag. you step out of your shoes and walk toward the sound.

you’re already rehearsing what you’ll say. nothing dramatic. just “hey… can we talk?” and if he looks at you like he used to—like you’re something warm and wanted—you’ll know it’s okay.

the hallway smells like pinewood and something sweet. maybe brown sugar. or cinnamon. you don’t remember him ever lighting a candle for you.

your heart stutters.

and then—just before you turn the corner—you hear it.

a laugh. his laugh. low and soft and genuine. the kind he used to reserve for late nights in your lap, when the world felt too far away to matter.

“stay still, babe, i’ll mess it up—”

another laugh. higher-pitched. girlish. something thumps against the couch.

“you’re the one who wanted to try eyeliner. stop squirming.”

your breath catches.

you step forward.

slow. cautious.

and there he is.

in a hoodie—your hoodie, technically—kneeling on the rug in front of the couch. a girl sits above him, grinning wide, a hand on his shoulder to steady herself as he carefully draws something across her eyelid with a black pencil.

she’s wearing his sweatpants. her feet are tucked under his thigh. there’s a half-eaten takeout box on the coffee table, and your favorite blanket—his favorite blanket, when it was yours—is wrapped around her shoulders like she belongs in it.

he leans back a little to admire his work, then brushes a thumb across her cheek.

“you look hot.”

she giggles. “you’re terrible at this.”

“whatever. i’m an artist.”

“you’re a menace.”

he grins. wide. relaxed. “and yet you let me ruin your face.”

he’s never done anything like this with you.

you asked once. about painting each other’s nails. he said it was dumb. you tried again a few weeks later, playfully offered to braid his hair. he told you to “quit it with the rom-com shit.”

but here he is. doing the rom-com shit. for her.

and you’re standing in the doorway, still clinging to hope like it won’t break your heart.

you clear your throat.

both heads turn.

he blinks. his smile fades.

“…oh,” jace says. “shit. i didn’t know you were coming.”

your name doesn’t leave his mouth.

he doesn’t stand up.

doesn’t move toward you.

just sits there, eyeliner in hand, like you caught him doing something only vaguely embarrassing—like doodling in the margins of a notebook. not like you walked in on him being someone else entirely.

you offer a thin, shaky smile. polite. automatic.

“i… i was hoping we could talk.”

his brows lift. barely. he sets the pencil down on the table like he’s not in a rush.

“about what?”

“about us,” you say, quieter now. “about what’s been going on.”

he exhales. like this is exhausting.

“not really a good time.”

your eyes flick to the girl.

she’s gone still. the smile dropped. her posture’s tighter now—shoulders slightly hunched, like she’s trying to disappear under the blanket that’s not hers.

you look back at him.

“you’ve been ignoring me.”

“i’ve been busy.”

“you’ve been gone.”

“so have you,” he says. casual. like that meant anything.

you blink. your face is burning. you force your voice to stay level.

“i didn’t realize there was someone else.”

he doesn’t deny it.

doesn’t apologize.

he just stands, stretches his legs like he’s been kneeling too long, and rolls his shoulders with a pop.

you watch him. you wait for him to explain. you’re still waiting for him to say your name.

“we haven’t been working for a while,” he says, already reaching for his keys.

you stare. “so that’s it?”

he shrugs.

“you knew it was coming.”

you shake your head. “i didn’t. i really didn’t.”

his eyes finally meet yours, and something behind them flickers—but it’s not regret. it’s not guilt. it’s not even anger.

it’s boredom.

he glances at the girl—at her—then reaches out to tug the blanket from her shoulders.

“you ready, mel?”

mel.

it lands like a slap. you don’t even know her and she already has more of him than you were ever allowed to touch.

melanie shifts uncomfortably. she gives you a look—wide-eyed, hesitant. not cruel. just startled.

“jace—maybe we should—”

“we’re going,” he says, firm. not to her. to you.

like he’s already decided.

like he’s already gone from your life.

you step aside as they pass, but you don’t remember moving. you barely breathe.

melanie glances back. just once.

your throat tightens.

you’re still standing in the doorway when the front door closes. still holding your bag. still stuck on the word babe.

the silence after they leave is loud. it echoes. it presses in on your ribs.

you let your body crumple to the floor.

slowly. carefully. like you’re afraid it might make a sound.

you tuck your head into your knees. you don’t cry.

not yet.

you just sit there.

in a house that still smells like cinnamon. in a hoodie that doesn’t feel like yours anymore.

✧✧✧

you’re not sure what time it is when you make your way back into the kitchen, only that the light outside has dipped low enough to stain the counters blue. the house is quiet in that heavy way that only happens when everyone’s gone but their presence still lingers—like it’s holding its breath. like it hasn’t quite accepted that you’re the last one left.

the bottle’s still sitting where you left it. you pour yourself another splash—barely an inch—and sip it. it burns a little less this time. or maybe you’re just used to it.

you leave the lights off. everything feels too sharp with them on. instead, you open a cabinet on instinct—looking for something, anything—and find the stack of CDs he used to keep in your car, now below the TV. thin plastic cases with sharpie-scrawled titles, old mixes and burned copies. a few of them are ones you picked out together. one of them—slow burns & side streets—was yours, entirely.

you slip it into the little player on the counter. there’s a second where you think it won’t work, and then the static hum of the track catches, and it plays.

you know the opening riff like you know the sound of his laugh. soft, easy, easy to miss if you weren’t paying attention.

you take another sip and push the sleeves of your hoodie up. the room feels warm. too warm. when the second track comes on, you start to sway.

you don’t mean to dance. you just sort of... drift.

the whiskey loosens something in your limbs—not enough to make you stumble, just enough to keep you from caring how it looks. the floor is smooth under your feet. your hands lift, fingers twitching in time with the music, and you let your body follow the beat like it’s going to take you somewhere better than here.

you remember when he slow-danced you around this kitchen—awkward, half-hearted, buzzed off cheap beer and a bad apology. you’d been crying that night too. something about forgetting your birthday plans. he’d turned on this same CD, skipped to the fourth track, and mumbled something about making it up to you.

it wasn’t perfect. but it mattered, then.

you twirl, once. your socks slide under your toes and you nearly lose your balance, but you laugh instead of catching yourself. the sound is small, sharp, a little wild.

you spin again, arms up this time. stretch them like you might touch the ceiling, like maybe if you just reach far enough, you can pull the night back into place.

the third track is a slow one. a deep voice and an aching guitar. something you forgot you loved.

you hum the chorus under your breath, breath hitching on the last note.

you’re not crying.

not really.

your cheeks are hot and your eyes sting, but you’re still moving. still chasing the echo of something that felt like love, or something like it.

you don’t hear the door open over the music. don’t hear the boots or the shuffle of keys.

you just keep dancing—drifting past the counter, spinning gently near the sink, one hand outstretched like you’re waiting for someone to catch it.

and then, suddenly, the music cuts.

your body turns with the momentum, hair brushing your cheek as you slow to a stop. your arms fall.

and that’s when you see him.

he’s standing in the kitchen doorway, half-shadowed by the light from the hall. tall. rumpled. eyes fixed on you like you’re something fragile he wasn’t expecting to find here.

you freeze. blink at him, heart stuttering in your chest.

“sorry,” you say, voice hoarse and a little slurred. not from the alcohol—just from the weight of everything that's happened.

“i didn’t mean to be here this long. i was gonna leave. i just—i got caught up. i thought maybe... i thought i’d feel different...than i do.”

your fingers twitch by your sides.

“i thought it was him,” you add, quieter now. “when the door opened.”

he doesn’t say anything. just watches you.

your throat tightens. you take one slow, uncertain step forward. your foot nudges the leg of a chair and it scrapes lightly against the floor.

“do you dance?” you ask him suddenly, too soft. too sad.

he doesn’t answer.

you laugh once—dry, shaky. your hand lifts like you’re going to twirl again, but it drops halfway.

“he only danced with me when he felt bad,” you murmur. “and even then, it was barely anything. like a favor.”

you turn to reach for the CD player, maybe to start the song again, but your hand misses the button and your wrist knocks against the counter.

the clatter echoes. you flinch. your breath catches.

“fuck,” you mutter.

the glass thuds against the counter—no break, no spill—but it echoes too loud in the quiet kitchen.

you don’t mean to cry.

but your throat clamps up, your eyes sting, and your whole body lurches like it’s had enough.

your knees give out.

you don’t even realize you’re moving until you’re in his arms.

he catches you without a word.

it’s not elegant. not some movie moment. your shoulder knocks his chest hard. your hands scrabble against his front like you’re trying to find balance and can’t. you grip a fistful of his shirt, press your forehead against him, and breathe in sharp and fast.

he smells clean. like soap and laundry, with a trace of sweat under the collar. warm skin. cotton. the kind of smell that doesn’t lie.

you stay there. pressed against him. not thinking.

he doesn’t speak.

his arms hover for a second, unsure—then settle around you. solid. one hand on your back. the other still half-lifted, like he’s figuring out where he fits in this.

you’re shaking.

he can feel it.

his brow furrows, not angry—just trying to piece it together. who you are. why you’re here. what the hell happened before he got home.

he doesn’t know your name. not officially.

but he’s heard it. enough to guess.

you’re the girl jace kept vague about. mentioned when he needed a ride. or a favor. or to complain.

never like this.

“…hey,” schlatt says quietly. “easy.”

your breath hitches.

he shifts a little—just enough to guide you toward one of the kitchen stools. he keeps one arm around your back, steadying you, like you’ll drop if he lets go.

you sit down heavy. your hands shake. one’s still clinging to his sleeve.

you smell like cinnamon and perfume and whatever was left in the glass. your face is blotchy. your hoodie—jace’s hoodie—hangs off you like it wants to slide to the floor.

he glances at the counter. cd player still lit. the soft whirr of a disc spinning, waiting to start again.

his voice stays low. “you alone here?”

you nod. you don’t look up. he grabs a dish towel. hands it to you.

“alright. c’mon, breathe for me.”

you wipe your face. grip the towel like it’ll hold you together.

he sits across from you. not asking who you are. not asking why you're crying in his kitchen. just waiting.

you breathe. shallow. then deeper. your voice cracks when you finally speak.

“…he left with another girl.”

schlatt’s jaw flexes. he leans back a little. runs a hand down his face.

“jesus christ.”

you laugh—sharp. bitter. wipe your nose with your sleeve.

“he didn’t even look at me. just… left.”

you’re shaking again. not crying this time. just buzzing. wrung out.

he nods once. like that tells him what he needs.

“you eat anything?”

you blink. “what?”

“food,” he says. “did you eat?”

you shake your head.

he stands. opens the fridge. the hum of it fills the silence. he pulls out a tupperware of pasta, sets it on the counter, starts digging for a pan.

you watch him like you don’t understand what’s happening.

“you don’t have to—”

“yeah, i do,” he says. calm. steady. “you’re in my kitchen, kid. not feeding you would make me a real asshole.”

he grabs a second glass. fills it from the tap. pushes it toward you.

“drink.”

you do. he doesn’t say another word until the stove clicks on and the leftovers starts to sizzle.

he moves like this is normal. like this isn’t the first time he’s had to take care of someone falling apart in his house.

you stay quiet. let the smell of garlic fill the air. let the water ease the burn in your throat. and for the first time in hours, maybe longer—you start to feel like you’re back inside your body.

✧✧✧

you’re still sitting on the stool, glass in hand, knees drawn up close like you’re trying to fold into yourself. the kitchen lights hum above you. finally, your voice breaks the quiet. still rough. still small.

“you probably want me to go.”

he snorts—just a little. doesn’t look up.

“not really.”

you frown. “i shouldn’t be here.”

he shrugs. “but you are.”

the pan hisses again as he stirs.

you shift in your seat. the hoodie feels too warm now, or maybe too heavy. it doesn’t feel like yours. hasn’t for a while.

“…i didn’t know you’d be home tonight,” you say.

“yeah,” he mutters. “me neither.”

you blink. “you live here, though.”

he sets the spatula down, finally turns to look at you.

“you think that means anything?” he asks. not harsh. just matter-of-fact. “i’m here, what—three days out of the month? jace and his brother have more drawers in this place than i do.”

you chew on the inside of your cheek.

he watches you. eyes a little softer now.

“you’re the one he was seeing,” he says. “right?”

you nod, slow.

he exhales. “figured. never brought anyone around long enough for a real introduction.”

you stare at the countertop. “he didn’t bring me around. i just… showed up. tried to keep showing up.”

he nods, like he understands that more than you want him to.

you glance up at him. “do you… do you think i was stupid? staying as long as i did?”

he takes a moment before answering. turns the burner off. plates the pasta. puts the pan in the sink.

then walks back over and sets the dish in front of you.

“nah,” he says, resting his hands on the counter. “you’re just young.”

you look up. that one stings more than you expected.

he sees it.

“not an insult,” he adds. “just means you’re still figuring out what’s worth holding onto. and what’s just gonna cut your hands open.”

you pick at the edge of the plate. you’re not that hungry, but the smell makes your stomach twist.

“he made it feel like i was crazy all the time.”

“then he’s a dick.”

you huff a quiet laugh. “you’re not supposed to say that.”

“sure i am,” schlatt says. “he’s my kid. not my client. if he’s being a dick, i can say so.”

you glance over at him. he’s leaning against the sink now, arms crossed. the kind of posture that says he’s not going anywhere.

you look back down at the pasta.

“i think i knew,” you admit. “for a while. that he didn’t care like i did. i just kept thinking, maybe if i was patient, or cooler, or a little less clingy, he’d show up.”

your voice goes quiet.

“he didn’t.”

he’s silent for a second. then says, real calm:

“he’s gonna regret that. maybe not now. maybe not even soon. but one day, he’ll remember someone gave a shit. and he threw it out.”

you look at him. really look at him.

he’s older than jace by enough that it feels stupid even comparing them. he doesn’t talk like someone who plays games. doesn’t act like he needs to prove anything.

you blink.

“how old are you?” you ask, before you can stop yourself.

his lip twitches. “how old are you?”

you don’t answer.

he smirks. “exactly.”

you take a bite of the pasta. it’s better than it has any right to be.

"...what's your name, then?"

he raises an eyebrow. you blink at him.

“i mean—i know it. obviously. just…”

you trail off. he watches you for a second, arms still crossed over his chest.

“schlatt,” he says finally. “but you knew that.”

“i did,” you admit. “just didn’t feel right calling you that without… you know. actually meeting you.”

his mouth lifts slightly at one corner. “guess this counts, then.”

you nod. glance back down at your plate. your hands look small against the ceramic.

his voice is quiet. “you can call me whatever you want. long as it’s not sir. or mr. jace's dad.”

you almost choke. “i wasn’t gonna.”

he grins wider. “just makin’ sure.”

you take another bite to hide your face. he’s watching you now. not in a weird way. just... steady. curious.

his gaze drops to your hands. your wrists. the way the hoodie sleeves bunch around them like they don’t fit. because they don't.

and it hits you again—how big everything here is. the house. the kitchen. the chair you’re sitting in. the hoodie you’re wearing.

him.

you steal a glance while he’s reaching for a paper towel. he’s broad. bigger than jace, not just taller but heavier-set. thicker shoulders, thicker arms. even the way he moves—slow and solid—makes the room feel smaller.

you look away fast. your throat feels tight again.

“you alright?”

"yeah. yeah, sorry. i just...this house belongs to jace, in my head. but now, that you're here...it really does feel much more like your house."

"even if i'm never here?"

you nod. “yeah. i mean… you walked in and everything sort of...changed. reset.”

he lets out a quiet breath, more through his nose than anything. the kind of laugh people do when they’re not actually amused, just... accepting.

“guess that’s what happens when you pay the mortgage. and chose all the furniture.”

you huff a quiet laugh. “guess so.”

he tosses the paper towel in the sink. leans back against the counter again, arms crossed. and you glance over at him, just for a second. he looks tired—like he just got off a flight. dark circles, five o’clock shadow, sleeves pushed up to the elbows. big watch on his wrist. wedding ring long gone.

he’s not cleaned up the way jace always tries to be. there’s no showiness to him. but he owns the room without trying. that’s what makes the difference. the way he stands there—like he belongs, even if he’s barely around.

“do you hate it?” you ask suddenly. “being gone all the time?”

his brow twitches. not annoyed—just surprised.

“nah. not really. used to it.”

you pick at the edge of your plate. “still seems lonely.”

he watches you carefully. “you say that like you’d know.”

you shrug. “i’ve spent enough nights in this house alone.”

he doesn’t say anything at first. just pushes off the counter and walks to the sink, rinses his hands. his shoulders roll slightly—like he’s shaking something off—and when he turns back, there’s something quieter in his eyes.

“you really liked him, huh?”

you nod. “i was stupid about it.”

“no, you weren’t.”

you glance up. he grabs a clean dish towel, tosses it to you.

“wipe your face. you keep apologizing to me...when it should be him apologizing to you.”

you catch it. dab under your eyes. “habit.”

“break it.”

you snort, but it’s softer now. the weight’s still there in your chest, but it’s not crushing anymore.

he nods toward the living room. “guest room’s clean if you don’t feel like driving.”

you hesitate. “are you sure?”

“you need sleep. not another night of walking out into the cold.”

you look toward the hallway. part of you wants to argue. to prove you’re fine. but you’re not. and the idea of curling up in a bed that isn’t soaked in memories feels... like relief.

you stand slowly. “okay. thank you.”

he just nods. and as you pass him—close enough that your shoulder brushes his arm—you’re hit with it again. how much taller he is. how much broader. how easy it would be to just lean into him again.

but you don’t. you step into the hallway. let the sound of your bare feet on tile fill the space between you.

his voice follows you just before you turn the corner:

“i’m home for a couple days, by the way. if you need anything.”

you pause. look back at him. he’s watching. calm. unreadable.

you nod once. “okay. thanks, schlatt.”

and then you disappear down the hall, leaving the kitchen lights still on.

✧✧✧

you wake up too fast.

heart pounding, shirt sticking to your back, mouth dry. the dream slips away before you can hold onto it—just flashes of water, shouting, jace’s voice cutting sharp and careless. a hallway that stretched too long. a door that wouldn’t open.

your throat’s tight. your hands feel wrong in your lap. and even though you know exactly where you are—guest room, second door on the right, soft sheets, ceiling fan humming—you still feel... unsafe.

you sit there for a while. try to breathe through it. try to lay back down.

you can’t.

your legs swing off the bed before you even decide to move. the floor’s cold. the hallway’s darker than you expected. but you remember where his room is��diagonal across from the guest room. bigger door. heavier frame.

you stand outside it for a second, toes curled against the tile. you almost turn around.

but then your hand’s knocking—just once. soft. like maybe you won’t even wake him.

you do.

the door creaks open a few inches, a sliver of warm light spilling across the hall. he’s not in bed. he’s sitting on the edge of it, barefoot, rubbing the back of his neck. his voice is rough, thick with sleep.

“you okay?”

you blink, caught. now that you’re here, you don’t know what to say. it feels stupid.

“i, um.” you look down at your hands. “sorry. i had a nightmare. i—just. i didn’t know where else to go.”

he exhales—short, more amused than anything. a rough, sleepy sound in his throat.

you glance up, startled. “sorry, i know that’s—”

“no, no,” he says, rubbing a hand over his face. “it’s not that. just… never had to do this before.”

you blink. “do what?”

he gestures vaguely, tired. “this. nightmares. knocking on doors. all of it. my boys didn’t really… come to me for that kind of thing.”

you frown. “why not?”

he shrugs, like it’s nothing, but the words land heavy. “they weren’t around. not when they were small.”

he stands, stretches—broad shoulders rolling under his t-shirt—then steps forward, resting one hand against the doorframe. the other rubs absently at his jaw.

“they stayed with their mom most of the time,” he adds. “didn’t wanna live with me until i started making more money. getting the house. the cars. shit like that.”

you nod faintly, still standing in the hallway like a kid waiting to be invited in.

he notices. his hand drops from the doorframe. he steps aside.

“you wanna come in?” he asks. voice low. steady. “you can sit. just for a bit.”

you hesitate, then nod.

his room’s darker than the hall. softer. warmer. it smells like clean laundry and something deeper—cologne, maybe, but worn down to the skin.

he watches you walk in, watches you perch on the edge of the bed, legs tucked close.

you glance over. “you think that’s why they’re here now?”

he doesn’t answer right away. just lowers himself back onto the mattress, elbows on his knees.

“sometimes,” he says eventually. “sometimes it feels like i bought my way into being their father.”

you go quiet. he doesn’t seem bitter. just tired. like he’s made peace with it, but it still hangs around his shoulders.

“you don’t seem like a bad dad,” you say.

he huffs again—not quite a laugh. “appreciate it. but you don’t know me.”

you glance over. “you’re up at 3 a.m. talking me down from a nightmare. that counts for something.”

his eyes meet yours. still a little bleary, but sharp under it. for a second, he looks almost caught off guard. like it’s been a while since anyone’s said something nice without expecting anything in return.

“…you wanna lay down?” he asks after a moment. “you don’t have to go back to the guest room. if you just need a minute.”

your stomach knots. not in a bad way—just… caught between gratitude and uncertainty. not because it’s weird. but because it isn’t.

or maybe you’re just trying to convince yourself of that.

you nod. he shifts back, pulls down the blankets on one side with one arm, nodding toward the space.

you slide in slowly, careful not to rustle too much. like if you’re too loud, the comfort might vanish. the sheets are warm. they smell like him. like cotton and something grounded—clean, lived-in.

you curl onto your side, facing the far wall. he climbs back onto the bed beside you, staying on top of the covers. sits back against the headboard. doesn’t speak.

you close your eyes.

you don’t expect to sleep.

but next thing you know, the room is quiet. his breathing is steady.

and the worst of the night has already passed.

✧ ⊹ · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · ⊹ ✧

╭﹐✦˚₊· 𖤐 * E N D O F C H A P T E R O N E ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ ╮

he let her sleep in his bed. it's been a long time since either of them haven't slept in a cold bed alone.

╰﹒♡₊˚๑ *✧﹒✦ ࣪ ˖ ┊

⋆.ೃ࿔:･ chapter two coming very soon ⋆.ೃ࿔:･

#vuewrites #jschlatt #schlatt #jschlatt x reader #schlatt x reader #jschlatt headcanons #schlatt headcanons #jschlatt imagines #schlatt imagines #jschlatt x you #schlatt x you #kiss it better fic

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dark-frosted-heart · 2 days ago

Text

He Turned into a Cute Beast - Clavis Lelouch

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this

One day, I woke up to see that my beloved had turned into a beast.

Clavis: I'm back, Emma.

Emma: Thank goodness you're back, Clavis...Where did you go while looking like this?

Clavis: Well I heard that leopards were stealthy, so I went to test it out by observing the town. If there was anyone else in the same state as me, then we could exchange information.

Emma: I see. How did it go?

Clavis: Unfortunately, no one else in the country's been turned into an animal. Moreover, I caused quite a stir when I wound up on a main street.

Emma: You weren't even trying to be stealthy, were you?

Clavis: I was just curious, you know? It was like a fun festival with how everyone screamed in surprise.

(...Everyone, I'm so sorry for taking my eyes off Clavis for a moment)

Clavis: By the way, my lovely fiancee, shall we change locations?

Emma: Meaning you want to go somewhere else?

Clavis: Yes, I'd like to go on a walk with you. Will you follow me?

Emma: Okay.

(Where are we going? Hopefully we won't scare everyone again...)

(—There's no one here. That's good)

Emma: I never imagined climbing a tree.

Clavis: Despite saying that, you climbed with me. That's what I love about you.

(Because I don't want to leave Clavis alone if I can help it)

(I had help getting up, but I don't think I can get down by myself...)

Emma: So, why on a tree?

Clavis: Ah, I've heard that leopards live on trees to protect themselves. Now I instinctively feel relaxed here. It's even better with you here with me.

(I see, you weren't feeling comfortable on the ground or indoors)

Emma: That makes sense then.

Clavis: Haha, you adapt well. Unlike me, you're still human, but you're pretty brave.

Emma: Because you're with me. You chose a tree that's easy to sit on, so it's no uncomfortable at all.

Clavis: I see, that's good to hear...Is this love?

Emma: ...Possibly

Clavis: Haha, you're so tsun.

Emma: A-anyway, do you have any leads on how to turn back into a human?

Clavis: No, unfortunately I don't know anything. Since I'm in this form, why don't I take this chance to share some leopard trivia?

Emma: Since it's your own crest, you must know a lot. Please do tell.

Clavis: Does this distinct pattern remind you of anything?

Emma: Huh...?

Clavis: Hint: It's something you like.

Emma: Oh, you mean roses?

Clavis: That's right. It's why leopard spots are called rosettes.

Emma: I didn't know that...! What a lovely name for it.

Clavis: Ah, that's a nice reaction. I knew you'd be impressed. I have the leopard's crest and I love roses, so I'm the perfect partner... It's like fate, isn't it?

Emma: Hehe, it does feel like it.

(Of course, most people in Rhodolite love roses, but I'm happy to have this special bond with Clavis)

Emma: It really is a lovely pattern.

Clavis: Well, my lovely fiancee...You're pretty passionate today, aren't you? You're looking at and even stroking my body so lovingly.

Emma: Can you not make me sound like a pervert?!

Clavis: What? There's nothing to be embarrassed about. It's fine being a pervert. ...Anyway, here's another bit of trivia. The only thing a leopard will bring up into its tree is its prey.

Emma: Huh, what do you—Eek! D-don't just suddenly lick my leg!

(His tongue's rougher than usual and oddly ticklish)

Clavis: Haha, you left yourself open in a place where you can't escape. You're lacking a sense of danger.

I felt a sense of danger when the leopard approached me atop the tree, my heart pounding as I looked into the golden eyes filled with amusement.

#ikepri #ikemen prince #ikepri jp #ikepri translations

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poison-doll · 2 days ago

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well to begin with we have to take as a given that spiderman is transmasculine like fundamentally. i don't think we need to discuss that any further it's plainly apparent on its face. the trans men in my life tend to say that he is the most transmasculine comic book character; i disagree but don't feel like it's my place as a trans woman to position myself as having any kind of epistemic authority in that conversation. i don't, as the saying goes, have a dog in that fight.¹

next we have to figure out why i defined cyborgs as technologically mediated humans except we don't have to do that because donna haraway already did, 40 years before i said the thing that i said.

so let's consider our three spidermen: tobey maguire, andrew garfield, and tom holland. we have got to stop letting the brits be spiderman.

maguire is interesting bc he's the first spiderman of all the spidermen whose various goos and powers are entirely organic. that is, none of the things that maguire's spiderman does in his three movies are the result of inventions, gadgets, devices, contraptions, &c. they are the result of the spider-delivered HRT regimen all spidersmen are exposed to, and this is a necessary but not sufficient quality for a man to be a transsexual spiderman in the classic peter parkarian tradition. also, the villains of his first two films are explicitly cyborgs! perhaps raimi's spiderman movies are the most transphobic. i would never say this in public, but i have just now. as maguire is not just not a cyborg but also anti-cyborg, he is disqualified from being the most transsexual spiderman. everyone who ever called me a transmedicalist was right because i am gatekeeping transsexuality from spiderman of spiderman (2002) fame on account of his wrist semen.

so this leaves us garfield and holland. both these spidermen are more in line with the spidermen of comic books, who possess powers and abilities that are the result of both genetic mutation after having being bitten by a spider (which we can read as the administration of exogenous hormone therapy—a process that likewise changes a set of "internal" biosocial markers. hormonal profile is one data point in the data cloud society uses to assess one's gender, chromosomal sex &or chromosomal spiderfication being another) and also powers and abilities that are the result of technological intervention—garfield's webshooters, hollands webshooters and also fucked up stealth suit and maybe he's got robot arms or something (these devices are analogous, if the spider is the hormone, to mechanical dysphoria alleviating/euphoria inducing devices and procedures such as the binder or the phalloplasty. i assume phalloplasty also permits you to cling very tightly to walls but again i do not feel, as a trans woman, like it's my place to insert myself into that conversation) i stopped watching the mcus because they sucked but probably he got more contraptions.

so, as garfield and holland's spiderhood are both informed by biological/mechanical internal/external processes, both are cyborgs, and both are transsexuals, yes? wrong, wrong and dumb, clay for brain. holland's spiderman is a transmasculinized subject, but his is the most befouled by the looming specter of the medicalindustrial complex ( tony stark ) impressing upon him externally imposed markers of transition ( into a spider ). stark does not literally force parker into the fancy government sanctioned spider suit (assimilationist cisgender representations of maleness) but he does make it clear that spiderman's role in the avengers ( manhood ) is contingent upon getting in the fucking suit, shinji ( upholding patriachy ) ultimately holland does join the avengers, along with thor, the hulk, and vriska ( vriska )

garfield's contraptions are wholly his own. in every sense his transition is his own, free from insistence that he must conform to any version of spidermanness that he has not freely chosen himself. he is not only a cyborg, but a self-made-spider-borg, which is why he is the best and most noble of transsexual spidermen. i think i had another thing about garfield but i can't find my notes from when i went to that lecture on spidermasculinities and i said "the transsexual body is fundamentally a cyborg body" and the room full of cissexual ppl glared at me and the one (☝️) trans man who was there with me gave me a high five afterwards.

¹if you're asking me, though—following the footnote that lead you here or reading to the end of the post is considered a binding legal agreement between dizzy poisondoll fromtumblr industries and you ( "you" ) that you will not get mad at me for saying who i think the most transmasculine comic characters are because you implicitly are asking my opinion, and also you will be considered to be in violation of these terms of footnote if you try to take me to court or call me mean names without first going through a very boring arbitration process in which i explain at length why the bendis/maleev daredevil run is the best thing marvel comics has ever produced—the most transmasculine marvel superhero imo is wolverine although mr. sensitive is way up there. the most transmasculine dc superhero is guy gardner by a country mile, and the most transfeminine marvel character is a tie between venus dee milo and every other female character i think is cool. maybe it's a three way tie spiral seems very transgender.

#god i don't even know what to fucking tag this #guess i can stop mailing dead cats to brian michael bendis #turns out comics are kind of good sometimes?#the gends #spidermasculinity

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yvilonion · 1 day ago

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tattoo artist zayne x florist sylus

what do you think queen

u just triggered an artistic light burst in my mind

i shared this to a bunch of oomfs now theyre all cooking nefariously thank u anon

crazy thing is i was alrdy planning a nerd zayne x tattoo artist sylus. thank god sem break just started so we can do both

**note im nawttttt a writer. this is just to visualize what i have in mind bc drawing takes time gang💔**

tattoo artist zayne would have sleeves to cover his scars, geometrical patterns of snowflakes, lines so clean ppl wouldnt believe it was done free-hand. but thats who zayne is. steady, focused, always systematic. hes pretty well known in the area, like if u got a tattoo from him, people would immediately recognize his work.

then sylus opens a flower shop right across his parlor. sylus on the other hand has no system whatsoever. the flowers displayed at front ranges from local to foreign types, some were darker colored set next to bright ones. the arrangement looks more like a bird nest made out of petals than a shop really.

which was funny, bc when the lot was still under renovation, zayne thought it was gonna be some gothic clothes store with how black and red leaning the color palette was. and the owner? my god, are u sure he's a florist? man's 6'3, face albeit handsome, looks like hed punch you for a dollar. his huge build doesnt help either. and his fashion sense.. youd think he was some kind of gangster or ceo of an illegal organization. but here he is, pruning his daturas (they seem to be his favorite, zayne made a mental note.)

sylus does a mini grand opening. a lot of people came, to congratulate, to welcome him to the neighborhood, to gawk at the hubba hubba florist, and to genuinely admire his flowers. zayne being one of them ofc. and they meet, sylus treating him to a small bouquet of jasmines bc he thinks it suits him, no reason yk, a small gesture. yeah ok sure sy's shop never looks the same. everything keeps moving around, today the flowers would be arranged by color, tomorrow by size, tomorrow tomorrow by whatever he feels like. the pots dont match, another new poster on the wall, the miniature crow turned into a kitten. and zayne being an artist, felt inspired. he sat out on the small bench of his parlor that faced sy's, watching the flowers sway. he flipped his sketchbook and started sketching one of the jasmines, the same ones sy gave. then zayne realized, he actually doesnt know how to do this. he's drawn flowers before, A LOT actually, but they were all abstracted from the original. his flowers were always depicted in perfect geometric shapes, clean and symmetrical as if it was a dissected map. perfect and flawless. but the jasmine, sy's jasmine had flaws. some petals were crooked, curling inwards. 2 petals overlapped each other while the rest had space in between. they weren't geometrical, they were organic. zayne had never drawn anything organic.

zayne started drawing back in the military, as a way to cope, let his mind be somewhere else than the battlefield. just simple lines, across and diagonals, occasional curves that were always consistent, until it forms some sort of shape. caleb was the one who suggested him to become a tattoo artist. put his steady hands to good use. he couldnt bare being a doctor anymore, not after the military.

the flower was there, alive and in action. the sketch wasnt. it was frozen, kept steady. not swaying, no signs of age. geometric, not organic. zayne tries again. man this is harder than he thought. to break all his rules and step outside his perfectly square shaped box. to tell himself "its okay if it looks weird, its okay if the line was illogical." but why? why is there a random stick poking out from the leaves? why is the petal stretched out further than the rest? for the first time in a long long while, zayne felt a slight tremble in his fingers. and it was from holding a damn pencil. too immersed in his sketchbook, he didnt realize sy was right there, a cold brew in hand, watching him struggle. zayne jumped, a bit embarrassed cuz why u catching me in my time of distress like that. sy thought it was funny. an artist struggling to draw a flower, ironic. (artist to sy here: shut the fuq up boi!) sy takes his sketchbook, and does a visual breakdown, explaining the origin of the flower, how it typically looks like and work. the sketch was ugly. shamelessly ugly. and sy had the gall to say "here's a new tattoo design for you. youre welcome." zayne snorted, but he appreciated it.

ok here's ur homework for the day kids. cook up the rest while i try and draw this i still have uni and vamp au can u tell i love snowcrow

#snowcrow #sylus x zayne #love and deepspace

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jaessworld · 11 hours ago

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Hi gorgeous can we get another part too don't go yet where Billie immediately tries winning reader back and she does but we become more closed off less attentive and barely putting into the relationship and she sees how we changed and her heart breaks doing the most to get a reaction out of us (also sorry if this seems like a lot you don't have to do this if you don't want to have a good day/night ml🫶🥰)

of course i can sweetheart!

"𝘿𝙊𝙉'𝙏 𝙂𝙊 𝙔𝙀𝙏" 𝙋𝘼𝙍𝙏 2

ʙɪʟʟɪᴇ ᴇɪʟɪsʜ x ғᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

𝙋𝘼𝙍𝙏 1

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: ᴀɴɢsᴛ, ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ᴀʀɢᴜᴍᴇɴᴛ, sᴀᴅ ᴇɴᴅɪɴɢ

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ʙɪʟʟɪᴇ ᴡᴏɴ ʏ/ɴ ʙᴀᴄᴋ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀᴍᴀɢᴇ ᴡᴀs ᴀʟʀᴇᴀᴅʏ ᴅᴏɴᴇ — ɴᴏᴡ ɪᴛ’s ʏ/ɴ ᴡʜᴏ’s ᴅɪsᴛᴀɴᴛ, ɢᴜᴀʀᴅᴇᴅ, ᴀɴᴅ ʙᴀʀᴇʟʏ ʜᴏʟᴅɪɴɢ ᴏɴ. ᴀs ʙɪʟʟɪᴇ ʀᴇᴀʟɪᴢᴇs ʜᴏᴡ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ᴛʜᴇʏ’ᴠᴇ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇᴅ, sʜᴇ ғɪɴᴅs ʜᴇʀsᴇʟғ ғɪɢʜᴛɪɴɢ ғᴏʀ ᴀ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɴᴏ ʟᴏɴɢᴇʀ ғᴇᴇʟs ᴛʜᴇ sᴀᴍᴇ.

She showed up the next morning.

Puffy eyes. Rain-soaked hoodie. No cameras. No team.

Just her, and a mouthful of apologies.

“i can change,” she whispered. “i swear, just… please don’t leave me.”

You didn’t say anything. You were too tired. Too empty. But you let her in even when you knew you shouldnt.

And that was enough.

For her.

Weeks passed.

She started trying again. Dates. Flowers. Late-night talks. The effort was real this time but something in you had already withered.

You stopped reminding her about little things.

Stopped calling her just to hear her voice.

You smiled less. Pulled away more.

You weren’t cold. You weren’t cruel. Just… distant. Quiet.

Like you were protecting whatever pieces of yourself hadn’t already been worn down.

One night, Billie sat beside you on the couch, trying to hold your hand. You didn’t pull away but you didn’t grip back either.

She watched you with a softness you didn’t return.

“you used to look at me like I was everything,” she said quietly almost whispering. Like she didn’t truely want you to hear.

You didn’t answer.

Because she used to treat you like you were nothing.

She started doing too much then, bringing you coffee in the mornings, surprising you with little notes, overcompensating in every way. She’d cry sometimes when she thought you were asleep, whispering things like:

“i miss you even when you’re right next to me.”

“i don’t know how to fix what I broke.”

And still, you stayed distant.

Because something about the pain she once handed you. The nights she left you alone, the missed moments she never showed up for had changed you too deeply to go back.

One night, after yet another failed conversation, Billie finally snapped.

“do you even want this anymore?” she asked. Her voice cracked, her eyes filling with tears. “because I’m standing here, bleeding out trying to love you, and you just sit there like I’m nothing.”

You stared at her. Not out of spite.

Just numbness.

“i did want it,” you whispered. “but it’s hard to give your heart to someone who dropped it the first time.”

Billie broke then. you could hear her sobs through her hands that were covering her face, becoming wet from tears.

And for the first time, you watched her fall apart.

But you didn’t comfort her, you didn’t even try.

Because this, this is what it felt like.

And maybe she needed to understand it, too. Understand how you felt.

stop this is so sad 💔

also again not proof read cuz im 2 lazy

hopefully this is what u wanted! 😭

we can leave it at here unless yall want a part 3??

#billie eilish #billie eilish x y/n #billie eilish x fem!reader #billie eilish x female reader #billie eilish x you #billie eilish x reader #billie x you #billie x reader #billie fanfiction #eilish

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undermine-the-instinct · 2 days ago

Text

BUT OH, HOW YOU BREAK ME

Prison!Vi x reader

CHAPTER TWO: HELLO SUNSHINE

Masterlist..... Read on AO3..... wc: 2K

Tags: Fem coded reader, foul language, weird uncle vibes from an Adult, Vi calls reader a bitch

“Rule One- Don’t touch my shit. Don’t touch dont look dont even breathe in the same direction of my shit. Got it?”

You peek a look to the toilet, with its murky, rank waters.

“Um….”

“Two–I don't need your help, or your company. Stay out of my way.”

“I-”

“Three-I don't like small talk. Don't talk to me even if you're dying. I dont fucking care.” She throws her towel-one of her few possessions, to her bunk after her sentence, huffing as she pulls herself up by the thin rails. Fancy.

“I'm taking top bunk. Tough luck princess.”

“I have a name,” you say. You lift your chin and your nostrils flare a bit.

"And I dont fucking care."

You make an affronted sound, a word underneath your breath, and Vi sits up to bear down at you.

"Got something to say princess?"

"Yeah. Thats not my fucking name," brave, and stupid, you dont back down.

"So cut it out with that bullshit right there." Vi fully sits up, swings her legs in front of you, where you barely dodge. She folds her hands in her lap, loosens her shoulders.

"It's either princess, bitch, or your number, so your choice, newbie."

There's a shake in your eyes, a gleam as you persist. "My name is--"

“Doesn't matter. Not here. You might get a nickname in this place, but you'll always just be a number here."

"I'm more than that."

"No, you're not. You're stuck down here with all the rest of us now. So remember your number, because that's all people’ll ever see you as.” She turns to lay back down, and looks over her shoulder to give you a glance.

“You better hope it stays that way. A pretty face can get busted up quick here.”

"Yeah? And you would know, huh?"

She has to pause, before a low laugh pulls out her teeth like a wince. A hiss. "What? Are you saying I'm pretty?"

"I'm saying you looked fucked up," You cross your arms, and it looks like a barrier put up between the two of you.

"And shouldn't there be gendered sectors here? Why is this a co-ed prison?"

"If we start making divisions starting with gender, next you'll have age and then species divisions, and then gangs, and then people start fighting, and everyone starts thinking their special," she laughs without humor. "Better to keep it as is."

"There's just...so many kids here. All ages. It's, it's crazy." And she feels her back tense again.

"That's the way it is here. So mind your business, and keep your head down. You're Benny's kid, one way or another, so don't give the old man any grief, alright?"

"So you know Uncle Benny?" You pull up till she can feel the breath of your words a second after they leave your mouth.

"Did you know him before this?"

This. This. What is this anyway.

Vi just snags her head into a tighter crook of her elbow.

“...Rule number three, princess,” she says, just as the guards shout “Lights out,” and the world goes dark.

Almost instantly, when the lights go out, so too does sound. She ignores you as you continue to stand there, before you sigh in defeat. She hears the sounds of you slipping into a hard mattress, tissue thin sheets.

It's a while later, and Vi is sure she isn't supposed to hear it, but she does. Tiny, aborted gasps, the kind where you're trying to be quiet, but you can't breathe.

Vi blinks in the quiet. It doesn't matter if her eyes are open or not, it's always been dark. But even the underground was never this suffocating.

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

The tomfoolery doesn't stop though, because before she can barge out of her cell in the morning, a burly guard blocks her way.

“Hold on. You're forgetting something.” She tips her head to you, wide eyed, fixing your sheets like an overly polite guest in a hotel.

“What?”

“You gotta escort her. Warden's orders. Show her the layout, the ins and outs…keep her in one piece.” She grins at the hard set of her jaw.

“Take it up to the Warden if you have a problem.”

“Or maybe I should just shoot the messenger, here and now?” You raise your voice when the guard's grin drops.

“It's fine. I don't need an escort.”

“Didn't look that way yesterday princess.”

“Not my name. And that doesn't count because that's family-”

“You're family with Widows?” Oh, you dumb, stupid bitch. Why did you have to open your mouth? Common sense says that you keep your mouth shut, and eyes straight.

You seem to catch your mistake, the way the guard and Vi are looking at you.

“....You know I'm Zaun. No fucking clue they're family.”

“...Huh. A Piltie calling herself a Zaun. Alright.” Dumbass. The guard steps aside, and not too soon before Vi was going to push her out and catch another case.

“Remember your orders five-sixteen.”

“Leave me the fuck alone,” she mutters under her breath.

“...Are you coming or what?” Stupid, stupid, stupid. Because you stare at her dumbfounded, before finishing folding the towel you used for an extra blanket. You follow her with a hasty nod.

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

“Here, you, take your problem.” She waits until Benny looks up, before she turns on her heel and storms off.

“Hey, hey hey! Don't go?” He yells after her with a hint of audacity, and she ignores him, and whatever he says to you that has you running after her.

“Hey, um, you? Unc-” Vi whirls on her heel so fast she sees the words die in your mouth with a grimace.

"Damn, I forgot, my ba-"

“Rule number four, princess-keep your mouth shut. This isn't a work office this isn't some random street or fancy theater. Connections here can kill you just as easily as they keep you alive.”

You take a step back, a frown pulling your face down.

“Benny's calling you.”

“Don't care. I don't answer to Benny.”

“Aren't you guys like, colleagues? Coworkers? I think it's worth hearing him out.”

Vi’s already turning in her heel and walking away. “No.”

“You know, you're rather bristly.”

Huh? She stops. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“Just what I said. Bristly. Like an alley cat. It'd be cute if you didn't get tired of it quick.”

“What are you getting at?” She turns and presses into your space, nose to nose. “Don't play with me.”

You don't back away, but you do shy. Vi follows. “I'm not. I'm just reciprocating a tiny bit of the energy you're giving me."

She pulls in closer, eye to eye. Your eyes flicker between her pair, before you settle and stare her down. You're actually taller than her, with more weight on your frame. Three square meals a day for years probably did you some good.

"You're a smart mouthed princess, aren't ya?"

"Better than a feral animal running around like its tail is on fire."

"The fuck? You-"

“And how are we doing today my flowers?” A booming voice, well, booms off the walls and Vi feels herself go ramrod straight.

The Warden's steps make the ground tremble, and when he walks with that fatass body of his, he takes up most of the hallway, trusty weapon always in hand. His grin is never friendly, it's sharp.

“Well? I asked a question.” He stops in front of them, and peers down at the both of them.

You wilt. “Um…Flowers?"

Oh, he laughs. HAHAHA so funny. "Well, pretty thing you are, I think yours is pretty self-explanatory. Five-sixteen here-"

"Warden--"

"Is named Violet," He continues on despite her angry protests. "Odd for such a prickly girl, right. So? How are we doing."

You look between her and the Warden, but she refuses to look at you.

"We're- doing as well as can be, sir.”

“Is that right? Well, we don't want you having a good time here, this is a prison after all,” he leans down and winks like he's telling a joke, and your face twists like you're not sure whether you think so to.

“And, you are here for a reason.” He straightens with a sigh.

“How is our resident five-sixteen treating you? You looked like you were arguing, though you don't look much worse for wear.”

“I-”

“What were you expecting sir?” Vi lifts her eyes, bright.

“Broken bones? A bloodbath?”

“Certainly a little more blood,” he peers down. “You're not known for your love of Pilties, flower. Or Zaun goons. Or anyone except that Powder you keep–”

“Sir.” She grins, tries to forewarn with her eyes but he just laughs.

“I'm still surprised you dont join the Vapers, but you are more solo than anyone else here.” He pays her head, none too gently, and she tastes blood on her tongue.

“Still, I need you to be on your best behavior for our newest member, alright flower? Pilties are fragile, so go easy on the young thing, won't ya?”

“I'm not Piltie,” you frown. And something about the way your eyes shine, like something pretty and adamant and pitiful.

"But you're a halfie."

"But I don't claim Piltover. I'm Zaun."

The Warden, he sees this too, because he laughs, again. He reaches out and pinches your cheek, shaking you side to side like a rowdy puppy. You whine in protest like one too and it sounds fucking annoyingly pathetic.

“Ha! Adorable! Really, try not to rough this one up! We'd hate to lose such a pretty one.” He lets you go, leaving your cheek red and smarting.

"I havent had to check up on you for a while, so the beds and blankets were a courtesy gift. Don't mess this one up, Five-sixteen. You might earn back some privileges again." And he turns, and he walks away.

Vi stands there, waiting and watching until his figure disappears around a corner and the world stops going blurry at the edges.

She breathes, and exhales in a sharp burst. Once, twice, until the blood stops ruching in her ears. You're still there when she opens her eyes.

"...Flower?"

Red. Red red red. “I swear to fucking--"

"Ay, he called me that too, okay? I'm just questioning." You sigh, putting your hands palm first to your forehead.

“You know what? I'm hungry. You want to eat?”

Vi stares at you. “...Breakfast is over. They don't let latecomers in.”

“They'll let me in.”

“What? Why?”

“So show me the way to the kitchens,” you nod, ignoring. “Come on. I'll get you something too.”

…What the hell are you talking about? “Listen, I don't know if you know this, but this isn't a fucking playground. Did you hear what the Warden said? Do you know what he means?"

Its irking her, how your expression barely changes besides a few muscles movements.

"I'm not stupid, or naive, I know Vi."

"So whats not fucking clicking?!" She jabs a finger to her temple with each word.

"You cant act like a fucking princess, act like things are supposed be one way or the other because you expect them to be. You don't act a certain way without people expecting something from you."

"I know that."

"So you're okay with that then, with this?!" She looks around the drab walls. "All of you Pilties think shits so sweet, when-"

"I'm not dealing with this, or with you. You seem to be going through something, so I'm out."

"Huh?"

And just like that, you turn on your heel and you're making your way over to a random person. She watches you in bafflement as you stop in front of this man, tatted in blue ink. “Hey. I'm new around here. Do you mind showing me the way into the kitchen?”

“What the fuck are you–” Vi and him speak at the same time, but you reach into your pocket and stick your fist out. “Here. I'll get you something more if you take me.” He looks down at Vi, then you suspiciously, before placing his huge hand under yours. You open your hand.

She has to hold back the small gasp when you hand what was in your fist–sugar packets. Sheer fucking gold in this place. Not some cheap syrup or the glop in the kitchens, actual, fucking, sugar.

The man's eyes widen too, and he looks again between you and Vi before shoving his pay into his pocket. He nods his head, and starts to walk. You take one look back at Vi, before you turn too, and follow him.

He is going in the way of the kitchens, but he could be leading you to an empty corner to run your pockets. Stupid girl.

Vi turns and goes the other way.

Taglist: @sevikas-whore @autisticratbagtm

#arcane #arcane league of legends #arcane vi #arcane violet #arcane au #vi x reader #violet x reader #reader insert #my stuff #my writing #ciciwrites

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nesemy · 2 days ago

Text

Things we never said

Part 2🧡 Here is Part 1 if you want to catch up.

Annndddd🥁 part 2! Hope you love it😽 (dual pov this time)

If yall have any requests or ideas please tell me,I would appreciate it.

Summary: The Weasley twins have a history full of pranks and laughter with y/n, whose past also holds unrequited love for George. But this year at Hogwarts she tries to overcome these feelings …with more or less success.

Maybe the boy who caused them can’t help but want his girl’s attention back.

English is not my first language. I read through it often to avoid any mistakes in my grammar, but if a couple stayed, SORRY🧡

———————————————————-

George’s pov

“Can you believe this?” I say to Fred while he’s packing out all the potions and sheets with ideas and recipes we already tried. “Cormac? He is literally the most arrogant kid. Does he even have a personality?” I say in disbelief walking from one corner to the other in the little shed we meet usually.

Me and Fred found this place a while ago. It’s in a little corner of the castle that no one uses. It had a desk and a couple of chairs when we first stumbled upon it.

Now, it feels lived in, many of our worst ideas came to life here.

We keep different sweets and machines hidden in here, a couple posters on the walls and cozy pillows with blankets for brainstorming, or incase we have to spend a night here. It was all y/n’s idea.

“You should’ve seen it” I plop down on one of the chairs, looking up at the ceiling.

“All lovey-dovey” I let out a snicker as my eyes drift to the corner with all the pillows and blankets my mom knitted. Thats’s where y/n fell asleep that one night-mid spellstorming, thinking of all the possible solutions to fix one of our products.

Fred had gone to bed hours before, but I stayed. Not even to finish the sweets. Just to be near her.

I told myself it was because she might wake up with another idea. But deep down, I think I just liked the quiet. The way her head tilted slightly toward my shoulder, like she was supposed to be there.

Fred hums “ Sounds like someone’s a little jealous”

I shoot him a glare, but he’s already grinning like he knows something better than me.

“I am not jealous” I mutter, defensively. “I have no reason to be. Where is she anyway?” I add quickly, desperate to change the subject before it starts to leave a bad taste in my mouth.

From the corner of my eyes I notice Fred grinning again. “What now?” I ask.

He shrugs. “Nothing. Just wondering how long you’re gonna sulk in that chair pretending you don’t care.”

“I don’t care” I snap. “It’s Cormac bloody McLaggen. If y/n’s into boys who confuse arrogance for charm, then…good luck to her”

But even as I say it, my stomach twists.

Because what if she is?…

Me and Fred worked for hours now. The sun was going down, and it looked like a storm was on its way — thunder rumbling somewhere in the distance.

She didn’t show up.

I tell myself she probably got caught up in something. After the trip to Hogsmade she had to finish her homework. Some meeting in the common room capt her up. Not Cormac… Definitely not him!

Fred started to pack up already, but I stay where I am. “We know y/n George. She wouldn’t want to harm you in anyway. But let’s be honest here I…”

“Say it Fred, I dare you.”

“You want her to know how you feel? Try saying something other than ‘pass the Dungbombs.’”

I scoff and toss a piece of parchment at his head. “Right, I keep that in mind” I say as I follow him out the door.

Y/n’s pov

I should’ve gone

I lost track of time. We were visiting shops and eating sweets. Our last stop was the Three Broomsticks, it was just supposed to be a butterbeer with Cormac, nothing special. A distraction. A way to remind myself — George is not the only one.

But the storm came — rain pouring, the cold wind blowing the shutters. Our only option was to wait it out.

We ordered an another round of butterbeer, and by the end my cheeks stung from all the compliments Cormac showered me with. We walked slowly back to the castle, when we stopped at a bridge. He said something about himself, and I listened. His mouth constantly moving while we got closer to each other.

“Had a good time?” he asks, stepping beside me.

I nod. “Yeah. It was nice.”

He watches me for a second, then shifts a little closer. “You’re hard to read, you know that?”

“I get that a lot,” I say, eyes still on the horizon.

And then he leans in.

It’s not a bad kiss. It’s gentle, warm, like he’s been waiting for the right moment.

But my heart doesn’t jump. My skin doesn’t tingle.

I let it happen anyway.

I had this boy — who could choose from hundreds of witches, go on a date with ME! But here I am. In my bed, hugging a pillow to myself, stomach twisting with guilt.

George makes me feel things I don’t know what to do with. He gets under my skin. One second we’re joking and throwing sweets at each other, and the next… it’s like I can’t breathe when he looks at me.

Like I mean something.

But if I did mean something, wouldn’t he say it? If only one of us would have the courage…but it’s really scary. If something would go wrong — The Burrow, the pranks, the shred, the others. They would become memories, not my present or future.

And my heart… I fear there would be no way to fix it.

Cormac on the other hand— it’s simple with him. I don’t have to overthink or search for answers in his eyes.

He tells me how beautiful I look and I don’t have this huge fear of; “what if it’s get complicated”.

I have nothing to lose…

Taglist: @lilians17

#george weasley x reader #george weasley #x yn #hogwarts fanfiction #fanfic #harry potter #hogsmeade #soulmates #story #part 2 #i love him #fred weasley #griffindor #hufflepuff #heartbreak #writing #writers on tumblr #dual pov #pov

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ihopesocomic · 13 hours ago

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Super long ask? incoming oh GOD—

Maybe growing up is re-reading IHS 5 times and then realizing I’ve been living with a human Vicious for 18 years.

The things Vicious does to Hope really were some things I experienced myself; “discipline” that crosses the line and pummels your self esteem to the ground, invalidation of your feelings, struggles, boundaries and your body, claiming that I’m her possession, babyfication just to get followed by another beating session of self-worth and the occasional physical punishment that “you deserved”!! Yay!!! I literally can ramble more but I digress.

I’ve been wondering why Vicious’s dialogue sounded so familiar to me, then the line where she lambasts Hopeful saying “Why are you crying?” just after she mauls her verbally gave me a Vietnam flashback and I was like. oh. And the fact that I can see where it all came from both in the comic and my real life experience makes it all the more realistic.

It’s actually really confusing and also clarifying to kinda realize my parent was an abuser but also to have a large part of you think that I’m the problem. Maybe it was all actually from love and was an attempt to fix me and I’m just wallowing in self-pity, or maybe my thoughts are also a result of abuse and gaslighting. I still have no idea. It’s also bittersweet and a bit heartwarming to get to know that having sweet and good memories that you cherish with your abuser, and even still loving them, is possible, and that it’s normal to feel even worse just because of it. Like damn, do this comic and community make me feel a little bit validated.

I used to believe it wasn’t worth to do anything against what I experienced because it was just going to make things worse. A big part of me still does. But now I do think, at least a little bit, that I can actually do something to make things better for me, especially when I still do love my mom. Maybe I can talk about all of it to her again. If that doesn’t work, I could talk to my own Clevers and Storms and Adamants. Maybe cutting ties like Hopeful did could turn out to be the only way. But whatever happens, I just hope I can be more kind and brave like Hopeful is.

In short: thanks for my revelations if you could call it that, and for Vicious too. Even if she’s a really, really bad mom who gave me a couple of PTSD moments. Seriously, y’all are gonna go somewhere, I swear.

and you have to give hope a big warm mug of cocoa with a blanket and her friends to cuddle with

cat, rj, this is a threat

A lot of us in this community have bad relationships with our parents. I never feels good to hear about, and I'm truly sorry. If its any consolation, people have figured out that their relationship with their parent is/was abusive, and I feel like that's an important discovery to make, especially early on. Sometimes we don't figure it out till we're 30+ years old. But ultimately, we want you to do what keeps yourself safe. And if you have a support system, definitely use it.

If its any consolation, my parents and I get along better now than we ever have. It took a long time for them to come around and many years of resentment, thinking everything I did was specifically to hurt them, religious zealotry, the babyfication, and other things I won't get into. But they got there. It might've taken me leaving for them to start waking up to it. I never forgave them, but they /did/ get better. While I'm hopeful for parents in general, sometimes they just don't come around at all and maintain they've always been correct. It's important to consider.

This is why we can't get behind every single abusive parent plotline being one that insinuates "forgive your parents no matter what because they're your parents" or "well they feel bad for abusing you, so that makes it okay" or even "they died trying to save you, so this cancels out their abuse". Because it's gross for a load of reasons firstly, but importantly, presenting abusive parents allows people, especially young people, to recognize a threat. And sometimes constructive ways on how to deal with one. I think about people who have seen a piece of media, like MP, and messaged us saying "This is why I didn't realize I was being abused until later." So I can't put enough stress on the importance of diverse experiences in media. It's more important now than ever. - Cat

#ask #ask us stuff #cat answers #golden grove #Vicious #very much cemented my status as being the antisocial work colleague

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shelbazoidz · 21 hours ago

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The fun part of characters with vague family history is that you can do anything you want with it. I'm absolutely giving Madeline siblings in this next fic. It'll still mainly just be her and Helen but family nonsense is so fun to write. The concept of Madeline being the middle child and having two brothers just seems like her absolute hell lmaooooo. Going with the idea that her mom only wanted names that start with M so ya got, Matthew, Madeline and Maxwell......Madeline does not get along well with the youngest as we can see in this snippet. She and Helen are spending time with her brothers and her oldest brother's kids. She goes to get Helen more wine (the only person she'd ever do such a thing for), antics ensue.

“So uh, you know if Hel is dating anyone?” Max asks, coming up next to her in the kitchen. Madeline's fingers grip the two refilled glasses she's holding a little too tight. She sets Helen's back on the counter before she spills any of the white wine Helen likes so much.

“She's not interested in dating right now.” Madeline says trying to be casual as she takes a sip from her own glass. Just like her mother, her brother has a knack for sniffing out her insecurities like a fucking truffle pig. She is not going to take the bait today. “And don't call her Hel.” Okay maybe she might fall for it a little but him calling her that is just wrong.

Relax. She has to relax, he is just trying to get under her skin. There are only 48 more hours of this visit that she needs to survive. Although on one hand, making it through this means leaving Helen again to go back to LA. Her heart aches at the thought. On the other hand, she wouldn't have to keep looking at her brother's stupid face anymore.

“She didn't seem to mind earlier when I called her that and how would you know she's not interested?” Max gives her that cocky smirk like he knows something she doesn't while he leans against the table across from her.

Madeline scoffs, flipping her hair over one shoulder. “Because I'm her best friend, we know everything about each other.” She says matter of fact.

“But you didn't know she wanted kids.” He picks some nonexistent lint off his shirt, perfectly causal as well. Even as he ignores the daggers being shot his way.

“She said sometimes she thinks about it, not that she wants them. There's a difference, dumbass.” Another sip of wine. The irritation in that last part is a crack in her armor that he locks in on.

“Still, you didn't know the sometimes part so maybe you don't know the dating part.” He shrugs. His blue eyes look at her with a teasing glint and she tries not to throw the glass of wine in his face.

“I'm positive she's not dating right now.” Is all she coolly replies. She'll strangle him if he tries any shit with Helen. She will.

“And I'm free to double check. You know the nerdy girls are always into going for a ride…on my bike I mean.” He takes his bottle of beer off the table and finishes it off in a few quick sips, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “You know unless you have a problem with me taking her out for a ride but why would you? You guys are just friends right?” He goads.

Madeline's wine glass clatters to the counter and she crosses the kitchen looking deadly serious. “Leave her alone, Maxwell. I mean it.” Her words and the fury in her eyes make his brows shoot up. She never uses his full name. Oh this is good. His smirk grows.

“What are you gonna fight me, Maddie?” He laughs, actually laughs at her.

“Keep talking and find out.” She could throw a punch, even with the new set of nails she just got. It would be worth chipping one for that.

“I don't know why this is bothering you so much. If she's not interested in me then she's not, if she is then…I guess it's good I just got a new mattress, huh?”

Madeline acts before she even thinks about it.

Back in the living room Helen is still sitting cross legged on the floor, getting a little too into coloring. She can't believe she's enjoying it this much. Kids and her never ever get along. It's probably because Madeline's niece is quiet like herself. She's mostly content to just sit next to Helen and color too.

“Can I see the blue?” Olivia asks, working away on her unicorn.

“Can I see the pink?” Helen asks, still shading her dragon.

“Trade?”

“Trade.” Helen nods and they swap colored pencils, both continuing their coloring in peaceful silence. Matt sits in a recliner watching the tv with his youngest napping in his lap until there's a loud crash from the kitchen.

Helen's head snaps in the direction when she hears more clattering followed by Madeline’s voice hissing out, "You motherfucker!"

Helen and Matthew look at one another unamused. She's known Madeline for a long long time and is not a stranger to her and her brother's fighting. At this point she's used to it with how often she would stay over when they were younger. It scared the hell out of her the first time it happened. She thought something was seriously wrong until she learned the fight was because Max stole Madeline’s last slice of pizza. The attempt to break them up ended up with Helen accidentally getting punched. She doesn't even know which one of those idiots hit her. All she remembers is sitting on the couch with a bag of peas on her swelling eye while Matthew cursed his siblings out. From that point on when they fought, she sat back with the oldest Ashton sibling and would let it play out until he dealt with it. More banging comes from the kitchen. She is not getting in between whatever is happening in there this time.

“You gonna check on that or…?” Helen doesn't look up from where she's coloring.

“She's your friend.” Matt's words are followed by what sounds like a plate smashing to the ground.

“And they're both your siblings.” She does look up at him then, something else clatters in the kitchen.

“I don't feel like dealing with their–”

“OW! My arm! You fucking bitch!” Max's yelp of pain from the other room cuts off his sentence.

“Your mother is going to kill all four of us if they break something important.” Helen lifts up a brow at him as the commotion continues.

“Alright, fine fine. I'm going.” He sighs, gently laying the toddler down on the couch.

“Have fun.” She waves him off as he trudges down the hall before feeling a tiny hand poke at her arm.

“What's a motherfucker?” Olivia asks, looking up at her with innocent eyes and Helen wants to walk right out the door before even attempting to answer that question.

Down the hall, Matthew takes quick steps towards the commotion in the kitchen. When he rounds the corner he pauses, seeing his dumbass siblings mid scuffle. It feels like he's been transported back to when he was in high school and their mom was out working late, leaving him in charge. They would always get into a fight any chance they got. Maxwell currently has a fistful of Madeline’s hair trying to yank her off because….she's biting his forearm. Right, okay that's enough.

“Hey!” Matt tries but Madeline is too busy trying to take a chunk out of their brother to pay him any attention. What the fuck did he say to her this time?

“Let go, you psycho!” Max yanks his arm, tugging at her hair harder.

“Are you two fucking serious right now?” Matthew truly can't believe he is pushing forty still breaking up fights between these two idiots. He grabs the sprayer from the sink, turning the water to cold and sprays them like a couple of feral cats. It works instantly, the pair sputtering and releasing one another to glare at him.

“What the fuck?” They say in unison.

“You two are acting like children! What if mom would have come home while you guys were acting like this, huh? You know hates it when you fight and she's already dealing with a lot right now. She doesn't need this bullshit too.” He bites out and they at least have the decency to look a little ashamed. Matthew sighs, rubbing his temple until he figures out what to do.

“You.” He points at Max and then gestures to the mess around the kitchen. “Clean this shit up. ”

“Aw come o–”

“Don't fucking start.” Oh no, not the dad voice. Max holds his unwavering gaze before accepting defeat. With a sigh he grabs the broom and trudges over to the glass on the floor from the smashed plate.

“You, come with me.” He looks at Madeline and she rolls her eyes but also doesn't put up a fight as she follows him out the back door. Yup she feels like a teenager again as she sits at the table in the sun room with her arms crossed. She's found herself in this chair the many times Matthew has had to break up a fight and give her a lecture. In the glass she sees her reflection and attempts to smooth down her now messy hair.

“Bastard.” She grumbles, raking her hands through the tangled locks.

“What happened in there this time?” Matt leans back in the chair, crossing his arms.

“You don't have to talk to me like you're my fucking dad.” She shouldn't take this out on him, it's not fair but she's pissed and doesn't really care right now.

“Then stop making me act like it.” He doesn't react to the attitude, seeing past the anger. Madeline is a little harder to read but it's always her fidgeting that gives her away. She taps her nails when she's anxious. They tap over the table as she looks out the window, not meeting his eyes. “Come on, just talk to me.”

“He's fucking asshole who never shuts up.” Madeline mutters.

“So are you, what's new? Just tell me what happened?”

“Nothing happened, he just…sucks.” She looks back out the window avoiding his gaze. Matthew sighs deeply, putting pieces of comments from earlier together.

“Is this about Helen?” He asks gently and Madeline turns her head back with a scowl.

“Why does everyone think everything is about Helen today!?” One arm tosses up, the other hand still tapping away on the table.

“Because you get like this when people mention her.” He gestures at her and Madeline tenses, biting her lip.

#death becomes her musical #death becomes her #madeline ashton #helen sharp #madhel

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razorblade180-heated · 3 days ago

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Trapped ch2

[smut! Look away!]

Whoever said lightning doesn’t strike the same place twice is in fact a liar. Blake Belladonna found herself opening her eyes from her old Beacon bed once again. She was unclear how long it has been since her first appearance in this pseudo familiar world, but memories came flooding back.

“Oh, this again.” She was quick on the uptake. Not only was she back in her pajamas, but felt strangely more comfortable than the last time. Whatever happened last time didn’t cause any problems after her and Jaune left. That was a plus in her book.

Speaking of Jaune, Blake looked around to see if the boy had returned like she did. She found no knight waiting this time. Instead, a reaper sat on her bed in pajamas while double fisting two sandwiches.

“Ruby?” Blake blinked twice, genuinely surprised to see her leader.

“Hey, sleepy head…” Ruby said slowly, dragging out each word. “So uh, this place is weird. Kinda reminds me of Jinn.”

“Oh yeah. Never really thought of that. How long have you been hanging around?”

“Not long. Maybe five minutes. Tried to wake you but it wasn’t happening. Now I’m eating.”

Blake could see the girl’s hands trembling from where she sat. “Were you freaking out in those five minutes?”

“That may have happened.” She inhaled the sandwich in her left hand. “There’s an interesting sign on the door.”

Blake turned her head and once again read it aloud. “Requirements unfulfilled. Achieve Ruby’s satisfaction and calmness.” How interesting. The objective had nothing to do with Blake specifically this time.

“Weird sign, right?” Ruby chuckled awkwardly. “Hehe, it's almost like this place is like those spaces found in naughty manga.”

“That’s exactly what this is.”

Blake watched her leader go nonverbal as her nostrils flared from a deep breath. Ruby slowly inhaled the second sandwich. It was clear to Blake the girl was stress eating from refusing what she knew to be the truth.

“Cool.” Ruby finally said after a couple minutes. “Why not? The rest of my life should make this feel normal.”

“So I can see you still need a second.”

“How are you so calm about this!?” Ruby blurted out. “I get you’re cool, but this cool!?”

“It’s my second time here.”

“You’re what!!? Who was here last time!?”

“I…don’t think that’s my business to tell.” No need to make the rabbit hole deeper than it was getting. “From what I can tell, you lose your memories after leaving, but gain it all back if you return. You definitely would’ve known about this place otherwise.”

“Because I would’ve remembered, or because you would’ve told me?”

“Yes and probably. I don’t see it staying a secret.” Jaune definitely would’ve acted off and frankly, Blake knew she wouldn’t be better. “And before you ask, there’s no other way out.”

“Yeah, I know.” Ruby jumped down to the floor.” I was kicking and yanking the door like a psycho. You’re a very heavy sleeper.”

“Or the room thought you should get that all out of your system in private? I wouldn’t be surprised. What kind of sandwich were those?”

“I don’t know. A mix of beef and turkey I think? The cheese was definitely cheddar.”

“I didn’t eat one last time but I definitely smelled tuna before.”

“So what? We want for nothing here? Ya know, except for escaping?” Ruby tapped her foot anxiously.

Blake was starting to sense a pattern. “First Jaune, and now Ruby. It could’ve been any combination of our group, but I’m here again for another first time experience. If this room considers who’s in it, am I the best choice to help them get used to this?”

Thinking about it, Blake couldn’t see anyone else taking this well enough while handling two of the most anxious people in the group. Anyone else might come off too strong or out of their depth.

“Ruby, it’s okay. We’re gonna get through this. I promise. Take a breath, then take a seat right next to me.

The silver eyed warrior does exactly that. After a slow and measured breath that raises her shoulder, Ruby exhales like a deflating balloon before taking a seat to Blake’s right.

“Sorry.”

“It’s alright. You’re nervous. I take it Yang’s never really talked to you about this stuff, has she?”

“Nope. Not that she wouldn’t. It uhh, always felt embarrassing for me. I’ve read some intriguing books.” Ruby blushed deeply. “I’ve even done some self exploration whenever I could find the time. Not as much as I would’ve liked though.”

“Yeah, finding privacy isn’t the easiest. You could’ve told me. I will cover for you.”

“R-Really?”

Blake smiled and gave a nod. “Of course! Everyone needs to take the edge off from time to time. Trust me, you wouldn’t be the only one. So, I take it you like girls if I’m here?”

“To be honest, I’m a little surprised to see you.”

“Oh?” Blake’s head tilted.

“Not that you aren’t beautiful or anything! You definitely are! I actually really don’t care, all things considered. It’s more about a vibe for me. If that makes any sort of sense.”

“Hahaha! Ruby, that makes total sense.” Blake wished they were having this conversation outside of this place. “You have yourself figured out more than you know. That’s good.”

“Ya think so?” Hearing that took a little weight off Ruby's shoulders. “Thanks. It never stressed me out but I definitely haven’t put in the time to sort it all out. Maybe that’s why I’m so anxious? Feels like I'm going in the deep end.”

Her hands were still fidgeting. The warm and soft feeling of Blake’s hand rested on top of her knuckles, gently rubbing them for comfort.

“Don’t worry. We aren’t going as deep as you might fear. Can you get fully on the bed for me?”

Ruby nodded, scooting backwards until her legs and feet were completely on the mattress. Blake moved behind her and put one leg on each side of the girl’s body. Both arms hugged Ruby’s waist while Blake rested her chin on Ruby’s shoulder. Findings cautiously pulled up the cute night shirt on the reaper to feel her stomach directly, earning a jolt.

“Ticklish?” Blake whispered.

“A little.” Ruby squeaked. She turned her head to see her teammate looking calm and caringly into her eyes. “Can I…kiss you?” Why was her heart racing already!?

Blake leaned in and pressed her lips against Ruby’s. A certain tension must’ve subsided, because Ruby’s body trembled a little less than before. The leader had the courage to kiss Blake back. The Faunus kept her own intensity well within reason. Ruby was always an ambitious person, much like Jaune. The difference being Ruby often did find herself in the deeper end of things before realizing. It was what made her the leader after all. Her boldness was always inspiring and a guiding light, but it had its drawbacks. Not this time. Not if Blake could help it.

She pressed her tongue lightly against Ruby’s lips, seeking an initiation inside. Ruby welcomed it by opening her mouth more and greeting it with her own. She didn’t try to take the lead and instead mimicked the way Blake traced the tip of her tongue, sliding it side to side as if to inspect the area. Ruby found it interesting; pleasant even. Her body sunk more into Blake’s embrace and once again she found the courage to kiss deeper.

“Mmmm.” She moaned softly, happy when Blake matched the same effort. Like smacking happens each time their lips briefly separated before reuniting. Kissing must’ve been a spell. Ruby found herself in a light trance, slipping more and more into the state of mind. A warmth trailed up her ribs and cuffed her left breast. One squeeze was all it took to make the girl quiver and take a breath. “Aaa~”

Blake’s eyes widened. Ruby’s face was so flushed already. A pretty strong reaction from the start. “You okay?”

“Y-Yeah.” Her voice cracked. “My… nipples are really sensitive. They’ve always kinda been that way.”

Understatement of the century. Blake watched Ruby fidget, going as far to rub her thighs together after another gentle squeeze. “How have you survived wearing bras? I’ve never seen you like this.”

“Sports bras.” Ruby sighed with pleasure. “The fabric isn’t so bad. Depending on the corset, I can get away with no bra or just use pasties.”

“Huh, the more you know.” Blake placed two of her fingers between Ruby’s nipples and closed them gently. Blake was rewarded with another moan and the sight of Ruby’s back arching slowly.

“Blake~” Ruby whimpered, her hands reaching up to hold the girl behind her.

Now Blake couldn’t help but blush. She wasn’t expecting such strong reactions. Her hands gave Ruby a quick break as they left to pull up the girl’s shirt. Ruby’s boobs weren’t only soft, but perfect for her body. Looks like she is somewhere in the C range. The nipples that caused so much pleasure were pale pink in color. Not to mention stiff as of now. Blake traced Ruby’s areolas to see the response. More whimpers dribbled out from quivering lips as Ruby did her best to keep still.

“You said you’ve done some self exploring before?”

“Y-Yes.” Even talking was challenging. “This didn’t feel as crazy with my own hands though.”

“Is that right? So, you’ve never had an orgasm from doing this?” Blake’s question was meant with loud silence and red ears. All the confirmation she needed. Without a second thought, she held Ruby’s boobs fully in her hands to massage. The reaction was immediate.

The red haired girl acted like someone quickly tased her. Fingers left an impression against her skin as they pressed and separated her chest. Her legs clenched again as Blake lightly pinched both nipples. Not only that, but her mouth became infatuated with the crook of Ruby’s neck.

“Blake!” Ruby whined. The feeling of a wet and meticulous tongue running across her skin made her swoon. Blake wasn’t afraid to add a little pressure either with small bites as her nails dared to flick her nipples. “Ghaah!”

She didn’t let out. Blake kept this pace and watched Ruby melt. Each flick brought a yelp while a squeeze caused restless fidgeting. The hold Ruby had around her neck grew tighter with each passing second as Blake left marks on the girl’s pale neck. The idea came to pull on Ruby’s nipples just enough for them to bounce when Blake let go. Again and again, she pulled, watching the poor girl’s toes curl up. Blake whispered in her ears again.

“Are you close~” Blake teased.

“Y-Yes.” Ruby had never felt this hot before. “I’m really close, Blake.”

“Close to what?”

“Cumming.” Even the word brought its own pleasure. “I’m gonna cum.” Her voice was cracking again.

Blake kissed Ruby’s ear. “That’s good. I wanna see that. Let it aaallll out.”

She twisted Ruby’s nipples suddenly. The reaper’s nails dug into Blake’s clothes while her body became stunned with pleasure. Ruby could feel something in her squeeze tightly like never before, trapping her legs together and actively ruining her cotton panties. How long has she been trembling? Better yet, when would it stop? Ruby’s head couldn’t find these answers. She only knew that eventually her voice came back in the form of heavy breathing as her body rested against Blake who gently rubbed one of Ruby’s cheeks.

“Good job. You did wonderfully.”

The praise felt good, but it was third compared to the tingling between her thighs and buzzing sensation from her nipples. Ruby bit her lip. “Are we done?” She asked hesitantly.

Her body was probably laid down on Blake’s bed while the girl in question stood up to reach under her bed and pull out a box. Ruby’s eyes turned to the size of dinner plates as she saw various dildos. Some blue, others pink. One looked rather smooth and generic while another had deep grooves in a spiraling shape.

“Has that always been there?”

“I took a gamble. Looks like this place knew what I was hiding. Plus a few extra. I told you we all need to take the edge off. Don’t worry though. I meant it when I say we aren’t diving off the deep end”

Blake found what she was looking for. A small dark purple toy no longer than her own hand, and some lube for it.

“What’s that do?” Ruby asked, gaining an immediate answer when Black pressed the button of the base. The entire thing let out a low buzz as it vibrated. “Oh…”

“It’s on the lowest setting. No different than one of those cheap massage devices for shoulders. Now then, are you up for trying this? It’s okay to say no.”

A real funny thing to say while already holding a vibrating toy. She could tell Blake was being genuine though. She didn’t even seem like she wanted to use it personally.

“We’ve gone this far. I trust you. Plus… I am still pretty in the mood.” Ruby blushed.

With that said, Blake returned to bed. Only now she was at the end of it. Ruby watched bashfully as her friend removed her robe before focusing on Ruby’s pants. Her hips raised to help Blake, who had no problems removing them and slipping up pink, damp underwear. Ruby chose to ignore the smirk on Blake’s face.

“Gotta admit, I’m jealous. Wish my nipples were that sensitive.”

“I promise you don’t.” Ruby deadpanned. She watched as Blake lathered up the toy in lube. “Umm, please don’t go too deep. I’ve never actually…”

“I promise.” Blake finished. “Wasn’t planning on it. Okay, I need you to spread your legs for me; also bend your right knee.”

Despite her embarrassment, Ruby silently did what was asked of her, revealing herself completely. Flushed pink lips leaked of Ruby’s arousal. Blake also spotted just how swollen the girl’s clit had become. Her body was more than ready. A small patch or red hair rested on top of her mound. Looks like Ruby actually kept herself well groomed. Blake just noticed there wasn’t even hair on Ruby’s legs. Maybe it was genetics? As someone with a hairy father, Blake really hoped it wasn’t Ruby’s genetics. Sensitive nipples and less shaving would be so unfair.

“Umm, you’re staring a lot.” Ruby chirped.

“Hmm? Oh, my bad.” Blake smiled sheepishly. She refocused her attention.

Ruby couldn’t see Blake’s movements perfectly, but she could watch a hand move closer. Vibrations on the bed grew closer and closer until the toy pressed against her slit. Another gasp faintly left Ruby’s lips. Slowly, the toy slid up and along her, barely touching her clit but making its presence known before hanging around the entrance of her body. No more than an inch was put in to let Ruby feel its power; the constant movement that alerted her senses and caused her eyes to flicker. The focus on Blake’s face was captivating. Their eyes locked as Blake laid down with her head between Ruby’s thighs. Not a word was spoken. Blake’s left arm snuck under Ruby’s bent knee before her hand held a hip for leverage. That same tongue that asked for an invitation and caused a red mark on Ruby’s neck, now took the pleasure in exploring another new area as Blake kissed another pair of lips.

Ruby’s jaw went slack. Only gasps flew out as she felt her clit become captured in bliss. The toy pushed in a little again before leaving, maintaining its position right at the entrance as it drew out more desire for Blake to taste. Fingers held onto the sheets for dear life. Ruby couldn’t look away from the alluring sight of Blake’s eyes staring back as she dined. The pleasure would’ve made Ruby’s hips pull away, but they are trapped in place now, leaving Ruby to endure every tongue lash of the girl who made sure to slurp up every drop.

“Bl-ake. This is…wow.” Her chest was rising high and falling low.

She felt her clit get sucked harder, making her teeth sink into her bottom lip. Ruby had to close her eyes for her own sanity, but that made the experience feel so much more intense. Where would Blake strike next? Ruby was always wrong, and she was happy about it every time “Aaa~ Aaaaagnh!”

Blake knew she could hold this position well past Ruby’s breaking point, but that wouldn’t be fun. The toy was nice and she genuinely believed Ruby could handle an extra inch; yet that didn’t interest Blake much. What did draw her in was Ruby herself. The taste her leader had might as well be nectar. Not only was there a subtle sweetness thanks to her natural scent, but also a creaminess that coated Blake’s tongue and felt right when it went down her throat. A little self indulgence is fine, right? Ruby didn’t seem to mind going with the flow.

Succumbing to her own ideas, Blake pulled the dildo out of Ruby. Now that her right hand gained its freedom again, it mimicked the left in bending Ruby’s left leg before slipping under the girl’s knee and grabbing her waist.

Ruby couldn’t form a thought quick enough as she felt her waist get lifted off the bed slightly. The vibrations she had been powering through was replaced by the ravenous tongue she was quickly becoming fond of. It dared to borrow deeper than the toy and be twice as unruly.

“AAAAAAAHHHHH!”

Yeah, Ruby didn’t mind at all. Blake happily indulged in the stronger, more addictive taste. She didn’t care at all how tightly the walls around her squeezed. She wasn’t giving up this flavor until it was spilling out. Dripping down her chin wasn’t enough.

“So much for impulse control.” Blake chastised herself. Not enough to feel bad about it though. She turned her gaze upward to check on Ruby. Poor girl was redder than her favorite cloak and had her eyes shut tightly. One hand remained an anchor of stability by clutching the sheets while the other gave into stimulation by playing with her left tit. “Hehehe~”

Blake let her mind wander off. No Bneed to change positions anymore. She wanted Ruby cumming just like this; deep in the throes of pleasure and excitement. It wasn’t gonna take long at all.

Ruby panted as if she was Ty on the final stretch of a marathon. The pressure underneath her navel grew more intensely while inside became so hot she could feel the warmth spread. It was impossible not to know exactly where Blake’s tongue was. Its motions became frustratingly slow and more dramatic. It pushed up on the roof before dragging itself in a dreadfully long circle around its surroundings. Tears began welling up in Ruby’s eyes as the tip returned to the starting point, pushing up again as it took its time curling its way out; maintaining the pressure all the way until it found a nice, evil little spot where it could disturb her clit from the inside. Just like that, Ruby found and lost her voice all at once.

“BLAKE!!” She howled. The tongue finally left, flicking her clit abruptly on the way out.

The older woman watched Ruby’s spoiled flower convulse, its nectar squirting out onto the sheets and Blake’s body while the girl shook like she was possessed. She couldn’t hide her personal satisfaction in watching her work bear fruit. It might be vain to think, but in her opinion, she couldn’t think of a time Ruby looked prettier than right now. Blake got on all fours right over Ruby and gently kissed her flushed face all over while she went through the waves of the orgasm. Ruby tried to hide her face but it was no use.

“You okay?” Blake hummed

“Th- ungh.” She stammered repeatedly. “I- that was….crazy. Really crazy.” Ruby finally said after finding her voice again. Her body was still trembling uncontrollably.

“If I didn’t know any better, I would think you're freezing.”

“Shut uuuup!” Ruby groaned, attempting to hide a smile from Blake’s smug face. “I didn’t know orgasms could get that intense!”

“I did give you plenty of foreplay. Not to mention you were sensitive already. Let’s not forget, lots of new experiences for you today.”

“Trying to downplay your achievements now?”

“Nope. Giving you notes is all.” Blake was riding a wonderful high right now. Something about giving that kind of pleasure was deeply gratifying.

“It’s not like I’m taking that advice out of here. Although- wait, nah. I don’t wanna think about what could happen if I show up here again!”

Neither said it, but the likelihood of returning felt very real. Blake wasn’t going to worry about that right now though. She turned her attention to the exit. Blake would be lying if she said she wasn’t expecting a bright green light. To her surprise, once again, it was only half green!

“What the-” Her head turned back to her still recovering leader. Flushed skin, damp thighs, and ruined sheets. How was this not calm and satisfied!? The requirements said nothing about her personality, so what was going on!?

“Ruby? Would you say you’re pretty calm and satisfied right about now?”

“I am pretty sure I have experienced three moments of immense clarity here, yes.”

“Well I need you to keep that clarity as I tell you the door isn’t unlocked.”

“Why would it be?” Ruby said lazily. “You have had a single orgasm this entire time.”

“I know, but the requirements didn’t say anything about me.”

Finding the willpower, Ruby sat up and looked her dumbfounded friend in the face. “Blake, I like to think we know each other incredibly well.”

“I…do too?” Blake said. She could feel the judgment coming from Ruby.

“Okay, so do I look like the type of person who would walk out of here without you feeling good?”

In hindsight, this was Blake’s fault. She had forgotten who she was dealing with. Deep end or not, Ruby was always going to try her best in all aspects. Blake was almost speechless.

“The love of your life is gonna be one lucky person.” Blake said with utter amazement.

“Huh? Not exactly the response I was expecting. Thank you though!” Ruby grinned. “Soooo, I’ll follow your lead. What are you up for?”

“Frankly I didn’t think this far in advance.” Blake admitted. As willing as Ruby was, it was easy to see the exhaustion her body had. No way her legs were moving any time soon. “Lay down. I have an idea.”

“Roger that!” Ruby flopped back down on the pillow.

“Hehe, we can take a break.”

“Nah, I’m good. I really can’t believe you didn’t want a turn. You even took off your clothes.”

“It’s not like I didn't. It just wasn’t at the forefront of my mind. I opened my eyes to you freaking out. I know my priorities.” She slipped off her underwear.

“Okay, fair enough.” Ruby had mildly forgotten about her stress eating earlier. “I’m better now! This has been fun. I might not be as good as you but I’d like to try and-”

Her view of the bed above them became blocked by toned abs and boobs that might as well be mountains from this perspective. Blake’s knees rested on each side of Ruby’s head, and if the reaper dared to let her eyes drift down, she’d be faced with lush pink lips surrounded by short silky black hair. Slender fingers ran through Ruby’s hair, tugging gently to pull her head back to see Blake staring down at her. To say Blake looked gorgeous from this angle would be an understatement. Ruby was in awe.

“I don’t think it’s said enough how pretty you are.” Ruby said, blushing wildly again.

Blake let out a soft giggle. Honestly, sometimes Ruby was so adorable without even trying. “Thanks. Now then, tap my leg three times if you need air. Got it?”

“Yeah, sure thing.” Her words drifted. Ruby already brought her hands up to hold Blake’s hips, eagerly pulling the woman down until she properly sat down.

Blake’s cat ears twitched. She didn’t expect Ruby to immediately get work. Her tongue was ambitious yet careful. Blake felt it trace the outline of her folds before slithering down the middle. She used her grip on Ruby’s hair to hold both of them steady as Blake began to ride her leader’s face properly to help. Blake was making sure to be extra careful but Ruby seemed to have other plans. Cat ears twitched again thanks to Ruby pulling Blake’s body further down, really allowing Ruby’s tongue to bury itself.

Even Blake couldn’t help but sigh blissfully. She could tell the girl was trying to imitate a few moves. Ruby wasn’t half bad. Blake continued rocking her hips.

“I can’t help but feel like you’re trying to get a little revenge on me.” Blake teased. Her body was slowly but surely getting into it. “Go counter clockwise. I like that.”

Ruby did as she was told, switching directions and paying close attention to how the walls around her flinched. There were brief moments Blake’s grip on her hair tightened, or thighs tensed. Ruby recalled silly little tips about spelling letters with your tongue could help find weak spots. Might as well give it a shot. A pity victory from Blake was out of the question.

“A, B, C, D, E, F, G-”

“Nngh~” Blake hunched forward.

“And we have a winner!” Ruby repeats the letter slowly, feeling Blake’s body respond with a stronger taste to drink. She wasn’t kidding about going counter clockwise. Ruby reaffirmed her grip on Blake’s hips. Good thing too. Blake started being active in her riding. “Looks like she likes it. That’s a relief.”

Blake braced herself with her right hand pressing against the wall as she leaned forward to ride faster. Fingers dragged down her hips and moved to hold her ass tightly. This was so much better than that toy she grabbed earlier. With the way Ruby’s tongue nearly slips out before sliding back in with each arch of Blake’s back, Blake might as well have been riding a dick. She allowed herself to shut her eyes and just enjoy the feeling of getting eaten so eagerly. Ruby wasn’t tapping out, so Blake wasn’t going to think twice about this ride.

“You’re doing such a good job.” She panted, grinding Ruby’s tongue in a specific spot until the girl actively played with it. “Uunngh, yeah. Right there, Ruby~”

It was so strange hearing her name with such desire. Ruby never thought too hard about her future love life, but between this and Blake’s comment earlier, it was hard not to think about it! There were a few people that came to mind, and the idea that they might moan her name like this was a danger to her own heart.

“Maybe I do want to come back here?”

Her internal conflict continued, but it never distracted her enough to leave Blake unsatisfied. Probably because she was doing part of the work by moving her own hips. Ruby wasn’t sure how long she’s been underneath Blake, but she really didn’t care. She found time to breathe through her nose each time she licked upwards, and the weight on her felt calming. The taste of the Belladonna freedom fighter was rather subtle and not that different from filtered water going down Ruby’s throat. In truth, if Blake wanted to sit here for a while, Ruby couldn’t find a reason to complain yet. Her tongue might get tired, but that’s a pretty fair trade off for this stunning view.

“Ruby, just a little longer. Okay?” Blake’s heads up was responded with hands pulling her down again. “Haha, oh you’re so cute~”

The sultriness in Blake’s voice might as well be honey for the ears. Ruby continued using her winning strategy. Each G that was carved with her tongue brought Blake’s ass sitting with a little more pressure after every buck of her hips until it remained planted, now squirming side to side. A twinge of pain came from Ruby’s scalp as Blake’s grip on her hair started matching the intensity of her walls, but it was okay. Ruby focused on her friend’s pleasure all the way until thighs squished the sides of her head and her mouth finally had Blake dripping down the corners of it.

“Fuck! Ruby~” Blake gasped, feeling her orgasm take her at least. “Ruby!!!!”

Yeah, she would definitely be interested in hearing her name like this a few more times. Ruby watched Blake’s climax closely. Her stomach was tensing up a lot along with her triceps. She didn’t look nearly as wrecked as when Ruby felt her own orgasm. As expected, and probably for the best. While it would be awesome to be a natural at this, Ruby feared her head would be in jeopardy if she pulled off that miracle. Blake still had the strength to remove herself, giving Ruby back the ability to breathe normally. Never has fresh air felt so good yet so disappointing. She didn’t even realize how heavy her own breathing was at first. Ruby looked over to see Blake’s flushed, glowing face as she let her body recover.

“S-So…a passing grade?” Ruby asked genuinely. Blake only rolled her eyes and smiled before bending down and giving a kiss that wasn’t shy at all about getting a taste of itself. As if Ruby didn’t have more reasons to blush.

Blake sat back up, poking the girl in the forehead. “Solid B+ with an A for effort.”

“Hell yeah. Honor Roll.” Ruby let her body go limp in satisfaction.

“Haha! Ruby, never change.” Blake looked over to see a fully green sign, then joined Ruby in laying down. “Final lesson, after care. I have a feeling you’ll be great at it.”

Ruby didn’t even get to ask what Blake meant before an arm was placed over her body to pull her in to cuddle. Ruby grinned at the resting face on her shoulder before closing her own eyes. Blake was absolutely correct. She was a pro at this part! Tried and true!

#rwby #ruby rose #blake belladonna #rwby ladybug

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