#to each their own i gues.....

[vampyrluver]

Im into vkei casually in the sense i listen to it but idk wht these bands r doing behind the scenes so imagine my surprise upon realizing tht vkei bands r notorious for having tbe worst ppl alive in their bands

[hymnoire]

𝐋𝐈𝐌 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐙𝐀 & 𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐌

       @stillresolved asked for an incorrect quote

[gojoest]

curiosity — gojo satoru

MDNI, f! reader, childhood friends to lovers, satoru is painfully aware of his own feelings while reader is not, mention of past girlfriends (and how they all looked like you), handjob (m! receiving), cumming in pants (and in your hand), not proofread, wc: 2k, dividers by @/cafekitsune

synopsis: gojo satoru is your childhood best friend. you’ve been inseparable ever since you were little. spending day and night together, you’d often have sleepovers together — a tradition you both carried on throughout your college years. at least once a week you’d drop by his dorm room and stay the night, or vice versa. but compared to your childhood days, you no longer share one bed. that is, until . . .

part 2

a/n: this is a further (and very lousy) elaboration on this post of mine but hey, HAPPY BDAY TO MY ONE AND ONLY

“i think we should try sleeping together”, you suggest one night.

“wah—“, satoru gasps, a teasing glint in his eyes. “didn’t know you felt that way about me”, he smirks.

“just sleeping”, you quickly clarify. “whatever obscene thing you just thought of — it’s not that”, you add, giving him a roll of your eyes.

“you should pick your words more wisely”, he scoffs. “if you go around telling people you want to sleep with them, they will misunderstand”

“ugh”, you huff, “i obviously didn’t mean it like that, and you know it”

“yeah, i do”, he lets out a soft chuckle. he knew exactly what you meant, but still he disguised his wishful thinking behind a teasing remark. “why though? all of a sudden?”

“dunno”, you shrug. “just feeling bad that you always take the floor”

“if that’s the case we can just swap”

“no — i cherish my comfort. come on, we used to do this all the time”, you pout.

indeed you did. but you were kids back then, things were different.

his heartbeat would race and his face would get all hot and red, the heat would fester through his entire body. but when the lights were off it was easy to hide it, the signs that he liked you. after making sure you were fast asleep, he would hold your hand and childishly smile to himself, he would peck it softly, secretly. one time you woke up in the middle of the night and almost caught him but he, startled, kicked you off the bed. yelling at you, lying, how you pushed your finger in his nostril in your sleep… he was so embarrassed, but also relieved you believed what he said was true. his secret was safe.

but now?

when you stand too close to him his body starts acting up in more mature ways. while he is better at controlling his facial expressions now and hiding his nervous heartbeat behind a nonchalant attitude, he struggles with keeping his urges at bay. he’s no longer the boy that blushes while secretly holding your hand; he is a man who craves you.

even when he’s laid on the futon beside the bed you occupy, the sound of your breathing alone gets him hard. you lie there, sleeping innocently, unaware of how much of a pain in the crotch you are being to him. when you leave in the mornings, he climbs onto the bed that is soaked with your scent and shamelessly jerks off. he stands on his knees and sprays his load on the bedsheets. eyes shut close, he pictures you beneath him.

he sighs in defeat. “fine”

“the right side is mine — it’s only natural, because i am always right”, you snicker and quickly pad over to the bed, plopping your body down on the mattress. “sure”, he chuckles and follows after you, sinking himself right next to you.

it is a bit awkward, you must admit. you are laid on your sides facing each other, in silence.

it’s cramped indeed, your knees are brushing against his and the space in the middle separating your bodies from one another is very scarce. but that was to be expected, the beds in the dorm rooms were designed for one person after all.

“so”, you break the silence. “how’s your girlfriend doing?”

“she’s not my girlfriend, anymore”, he states dryly.

“but it’s been barely two weeks since you started dating”

“well, things didn’t work out i guess”

the girls he dated, all of them looked a bit like you. same height, same hair color and length. similar facial features… he never lasted long with any of them though. all of them, visibly bothered by your presence in his life, would too soon ask him to make a choice — either them or you. neither of them aware that he chose to be with them in the first place only because they reminded him of you, and that it was never the question itself that drove him away from them. it was bound to happen, sooner or later. they could never be you.

you hum. “i see”

as you shift to make yourself more comfortable, you feel the shirt he gave you to wear to bed roll up ever so slightly, revealing the bare of your belly. a bit self-conscious now that he’s next to you, you are immediately urged to cover yourself. you slide a hand under the blanket, rummaging around to get a hold of the hem, but oh...

…the back of your hand brushes against something stiff. the friction incurring a low pant from the man, your best friend, next to you.

“fuck”, satoru hisses. his hand clasps around your wrist, pushing it away, but along with the movement his knuckles graze the flesh of your stomach. “fuck”, he curses again.

“satoru”, you say his name, voice hushed and timid but there is a note of underlying curiosity he is way too familiar with.

this is exactly why he was avoiding the one bed scenario — his boners were too hard to hide at this age and this size of him.

“satoru”, you repeat. “are you hard?”

“i wish you didn’t ask the obvious”, he mumbles, embarrassed. warmth washing over his face uncontrollably, just like in the past. but there was a bigger problem now — down in his pants, and the fact he got caught.

“is it because of me?”

“no”, he clicks his tongue, his grip still tight around your wrist, keeping your hand at bay. “it’s because i didn’t jerk off tonight, you know — it’s a natural thing for us men to randomly pop a boner throughout the day”

…which was true. but it was not the case right now.

“can i play with it a little?”, you ask, sneakily twisting your wrist in an attempt to free your hand.

“oi!”, he yelps. “did you hit you head or what?”

“i am curious”, you blurt out. “just a little?”

“stop”, he warns. “it’s weird”

his resolve is hanging by a thread right now, you’re too cunning to tempt him like this. he knows things will get awfully messy between you if he lets you cross this line. but still, he can’t flat out deny you. deep down he wants you to persist, a little bit more… if you ask him one more time, maybe he’ll crumble. surely, he will.

“it’s not”, you reassure. “i won’t jerk you off, i’ll just touch it”, you explain. “please? just a little?”

well. fuck it.

“this is a bad idea”, he says, but loosens his grip around your wrist. “fine”, he mumbles. “but just a little”

you nod, pulling your hand away only to slide it down his body.

you’re not really sure why you were so happy to hear the news about his break-up, but you always felt more at ease when he belonged just to you. your best friend, and not someone else’s boyfriend. you don’t know why you were doing this right now, or why your heart was racing. maybe because it really was weird? or maybe you were just horny?

finding his cock wasn’t difficult, it sure stood out from the rest of his body.

“you really are hard”, you gasp, running your fingers across the bulge in his shorts, dragging out a throaty groan out of him.

“yeah”, he mumbles. “like i said, stop stating the obvious”

“it’s a bit wet here”, ignoring his words, you thumb the spot where his tip is, making him squirm. his body slightly jerks as you press your palm against it. cupping it inside your hand you squeezing it gently. “it’s warm too”, you keep exploring further. “it has a pulse”

satoru lets out a helpless whine. “you sound so dirty right now, it’s weird”

he’s longed for this type of intimacy with you for years. but in his head, he pictured it differently. it was him who was supposed to do things to you, not the other way around. he was supposed to be the confident one, delving into your layers, making you squirm and fall apart under his touch. not the other way around… but this was good too. too good for him to oppose it. you were his weakness, after all. you always have been. no matter how much he teased and picked on you, in the end he always let you do as you pleased. this was not an exception.

you giggle to yourself. “yeah? you like that new side of me, don’t you?”

“…maybe”

sneaking your hand through the front of his shorts and boxers, you feel the flesh of his cock directly. it was twitching, his tip slick with precum. you put the tip of your index finger on his slit and rub circles around it to smear the pre oozing out of it, getting another soft whimper out of him. the head of his cock all slippery now, urging you to rub it all over the rest of his length.

your fingers wrap around his cock as you start to move your hand up and down, slowly, smearing his own slick onto his own flesh.

he tries to swallow the moan stuck in his throat. “you said you were not going to jerk me off, but what now? you’re playing a bit too much, don’t you think?”

satoru can last long. under normal circumstances, that is. but having you — not just his hand, but you, his first ever love, his only love — touch him like that, he could barely hold back. the urge to bust has been there since the moment you put your hand on his cock.

“why? you gonna cum?”, you slip your hand lower, down to the base of his shaft — where his balls are. you caress them tenderly, incurring yet another soft groan from him, before you go back to stroking him again. with each drag you pick up the pace. the room is filled with the squelching sounds caused by your hand, at this point, confidently fisting his slick covered cock, and his heavy breathing. 

“hey”, he puts his hand on your cheek, softly pinching on it with his fingertips. an attempt to make you snap out of it, but alas — you don’t back away. “don’t regret this”, he whispers, almost beggingly. but his voice comes out too shallow for your ears to pick up on.

“are you close?”, you peek at him, watching his face with rapt fascination, grateful that you left the night lamp on.

never have you ever seen him like this. his cheeks so hot and flushed that his pale skin was lit completely red, up to his ears and his neck. beads of sweat across his forehead with strands of his hair stuck on it. mouth agape — huffing and puffing. his brows knitted, desperately. pleadingly. his mouth telling you to stop, yet his face told a different story. so did the part of him inside your palm. it made you throb, down there, and squeeze your thighs together. your own wetness spurting out from your slit, drenching the inside of your underwear”

“fuck—", he growls. “i am— c-close”, he stutters, struggling to control his breathing and the moans that roll out of his mouth.

you feel his cock twitch in your hand, differently. the pulse on it beating faster and more brashly, like it almost made his skin stretch and push against the flesh of your palm. and then, there was a delay. a few, very short seconds in which his cock stood still before violently exploding, pumping out a thick shot of cum. then some more, and more, and more — until the pouring turned into a light dribble toward the end.

“ugh”, he throatily groans, his body relaxing after oozing all the tension out. although slower now, you keep stroking him, running your fingers across his softening cock.

“oh wow”, you gasp, his cum sticky on your skin, drenching the space between your fingers. “what a mess”, you giggle.

“you’re trouble”, he sighs. “is your curiosity satisfied now?”

you nod.

“if you get curious about other things”, he pauses, scratching the back of his head, “come to me. don’t go to other men”

“i’ll think about it”, you smirk.

after that night, you stayed over for an entire week.

this little play time turned into routine, and you were no longer the only one playing.

[sometimesanalice]

Dream a Little Dream

Summary: After a long week away in Lemoore, all Bradley wants to do is come home to you. The only thing is, you’re just not where he expects to find you.

Pairing: Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Female Reader

Length: 4.5K

Warnings: so much fluff and a truly smitten Bradley Bradshaw (mdni)

(author's note: this is a fic is set in the 'Like I Can' universe, however it can be read on it's own!)

Bradley throws his head back and lets out low groan as he hits another red light.

Nothing in the past week he’d spent up in Lemoore had felt as long as this drive home from base.

Not the stuffy dinner with the higher ups that had Mav and him exchanging looks from across the table, both of them clearly wishing to be anywhere else than done up in their Dress Whites. Not the long nights sharing a room with Hangman, who snored louder than the multiple phone alarms that he’d kept snoozing instead of turning off, as if the scratchy Navy provided sheets weren’t bad enough on their own. Not the drills or the lectures or the reviewing of the new procedural guidelines or equipment requirements with the crew stationed up there.

He'd felt the all the tension that had been building up over the week melt off of him the moment he’d turned the key in the ignition- the engine to the Bronco rumbling to life after a week of sitting on a parking lot on North Island- knowing that he was finally on his way home.

Technically, he was on his way to your apartment. But it was the same difference to him.

Wherever you were was where he wanted to be.

That was home. You were home.

Minus the fact that the San Diego traffic controllers seemed to have it out for him.

He thought for a moment he’d make it to your place in record time considering that there weren’t many people on the road a 2am. He hadn’t even bothered to turn the radio on, but even 105.3 THE ROCK where hits go to die would be preferable to the way he was agitatedly drumming his thumb on the steering wheel. But he was stubborn and now he left it off out of spite when his drive became a game of ‘How Many Times Will Rooster Hit The Red’.

It had been more stop than go at this point.

“Finally,” Bradley mumbles to himself when the light turns green and shifts out of neutral into first.

When Jake had dropped him off at base after their five-hour road trip back to San Diego, he’d decided to suck it up and stick around to get some of the paperwork that he’d been putting off out of the way so that he could enjoy the days off he had lined up after the trip. He might have lost track of time and caught a second wind filling out flight logs with only the whir of the overhead fluorescents to keep him company, working until he reached the point where he felt like he couldn’t keep his eyes opened anymore. His eyelids getting heavier and heavier with each passing minute he stayed seated at the desk he’d commandeered to work at.

It had been a week of sleeping like shit. And not just because of the creaky, lumpy mattress or Hangman’s snoring. But because he’d gotten used to your soft, warm body pressed against his and the sound of your gentle breathing to lull him to sleep. He’d had a taste of what true luxury was like and now it was hard to go back to the bare minimum he’d known before.

He’d known even before he’d left the building that he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep unless you were tucked against him. He’d barely slept 300 miles away from you, but it would have been even worse to go back to his condo knowing you were closer than ever and yet still so far.

Being in the same city wasn’t enough for him. He needed to be under the same roof, under the same covers.

Four red lights later, he’s turning onto your block. By some kind of miracle there’s an open spot big enough for the Bronco near the main entry without him having to maneuver into it with too much effort. It’s another reason why he’s dying to have you move in with him, the parking at your apartment complex is trash. And there are never enough guest spots, even with the parking pass he kept in his glove box.

Bradley lets himself in to your apartment as quietly as he can, opening the door slowly as to not wake you. The spare key you’d given him when you’d first moved here had lived on his own set of keys for the last couple of years, along with the fighter jet keychain you’d picked up for him when the two of you were teens during a family trip to Pensacola as thanks for looking after your hermit crabs. Even if one of them did lose a claw on his watch, which he’d felt guilty about for days, until you told him it would most likely grow back.

He’d never had a lot to be sentimental about, but that keychain with the charm whose silver finish had long been worn off around the edges was one of the few things that had been everywhere with him, so it wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

He gingerly sets the key on the console table you had near the front door, trying to keep them from clattering together. Carefully, he toes his boots off and sets his bag down next to them, making sure to keep it off the runner you had in the entryway. He knew you wouldn’t care if he tracked in some dirt on it, but he did.

One of the things he’s always liked about your apartment is how lived in it was.

Even in the dark, Bradley could make out the ruffly curtains you’d hung up over the door to your balcony. And the impressive gallery wall that framed your TV, one that was a mix of your own photos and art that you’ve accumulated along the way. There were more pillows than he thought was necessary on your couch, but made for one of his favorite afternoon nap spots. You usually had fresh flowers on your coffee table, the ones there now from what he could tell looked a little wilted, so he made a note to pick you up something from the shop next to the grocery store when he goes out to restock his fridge.

He lightly treads past your kitchen- and the two different types of coffee makers you had lined up on the countertop- towards your bedroom.

Bradley could already see it in his mind’s eye. The curve of the dip of your waist as you slept under your white comforter with the light blue piping along the edges. Always with a foot kicked out. The framed picture of the two of you on your nightstand. The chair in the corner where your pile of folded-and-to-be-put-away-later clean clothes sat. Your dresser topped with some leafy green thing and your tray of jewelry, where you’d cleared out not one but three drawers - which was a whole half of wooden unit he’d helped you build when you first moved in- for him to use for his things. Not to mention space in your closest too and room on the shoe rack you kept in there.

It was more than what he needed, but that was you. You’d always been the type to go above and beyond for the people you cared about. But now it meant more because you weren’t just sharing your space with him, you were sharing your life with him.

The blinds aren’t pulled closed, so your room is illumined with more city light than he was expecting. And he can see with clarity that everything is in its place.

The picture of him kissing your cheek- your nose scrunched up in that way he knows so well- in the grassy park where you’d surprised him with a showing of one of his favorite movies on one of your first dates together. The white linen covered chair with your clothes had an old sweatshirt of his tossed over the back of it that he knows if he were to pick it up would smell more like you than him. The plant in the white ceramic vase on your dresser was one you’d bought at the farmer’s market almost two years ago now to commemorate your big move there, you’d proudly carried it around for the rest of the morning while he’d carried your ever-growing collection of bags.

Everything right where it should be, except for you.

Your bed is perfectly made up. Well, the side he usually sleeps on is. The are corners still tucked in with the same crisp precision you use to wrap presents. The right side, however, looks like the comforter and sheets were hastily thrown back, a rumpled pile of fabric in the spot where he thought you’d be sleeping.

There’s only one other place where you would be.

Bradley doesn’t even try to quiet his steps as he struts back towards the door with a new destination in mind. He shoves his feet back into his boots, not bothering to retie his laces, as he scoops his keys out of the little bowl he’d just put them in barely even five minutes ago. Only slowing down long enough to make sure he’s properly locked the door behind him before he’s back in the Bronco for the second time that night.

This time the drive feels like nothing. Especially since he hits green lights all the way there.

His lips turn up in an automatic smile when he sees your all-too-practical white Honda Civic parked in the drive way of his condo. He doesn’t think he could find the words to describe the feeling that wells up in his chest at the sight of it.

It just felt right.

Bradley lets himself in, using his own key this time.  

His condo had always felt more like a place to land, rather than a home. Over the last few months though that feeling has changed for him.

For Bradley’s whole life things have felt temporary. The people he met. The things he owned. The bases he lived on. You made him crave permanence in a way he’d never experienced before. The two of you had a couple decades worth of history, but he knew he couldn’t be truly content until his ring was on your finger and you shared his last name.

He can see your fingerprints in this space from the knit blanket draped on his couch to the framed print on the wall over the breakfast nook. He can see the promise of a future together in the fancier-than-he’s-used-to coffee maker on the kitchen counter.

It’s quiet, but not the empty kind.

The light above the stove is turned on illuminating the kitchen.

That was usually his final task of the night before going to bed. Flicking off the brighter overheads in exchange for the softer one that gave him just enough light to avoid crashing into things in the darkness if he woke up in the middle of the night and was on the hunt for something to eat or drink while still half-asleep.

Although it hits him now that he can’t remember the last time he’s turned it on himself.

It was something he’d noticed that you didn’t do at your own apartment when the two of you had first started sleeping together. But now if he thinks back on it, every glass of cool water out of the filtering pitcher you kept in the fridge and every bowl of late-night cereal he’s had that little light has been on to guide him into the kitchen while you slept peacefully in bed.

It’s a realization that lands squarely behind his ribcage.

Bradley kicks his boots off next to your sandals by the door and turns the lock back into place behind him. Normally, he’d take them up to be put away in their proper place, but for now he’s got other more important things on his mind.

He takes the stairs two at a time as soundlessly as he can, avoiding the step that sometimes pops. The first door on the left has been left slightly ajar, just wide enough for him to slip into.

there you are, his heart registers before his eyes do.

Tucked under the green comforter- with that one foot kicked out- on the wooden canopy bed he’d recently purchased is you.

He couldn’t fight back the smile on his face that the sight of you curled up there on his side of the bed, with your face pressed into his pillow, even if he wanted to.

Bradley still doesn’t know how he got to be so lucky that he gets to be the one to see you like this, at complete ease as you sleep, as relaxed in his bed as you are in your own. He’s grateful for every morning he gets to wake up with you and every night he gets to fall asleep with you in his arms.

It’s never been like this for him, not before you. It’s a good thing he’s already told you he loved you, otherwise he doesn’t think he could have been able to hold himself back from waking you up right here and now to tell you.

Quietly, he steps up the side of the bed, taking a moment to admire you looking soft and warm and like everything he could ever want. The few FaceTime calls the two of you had had over the course of the week couldn’t even begin to capture just how beautiful you were. Bradley leans down to brush a featherlight kiss against your temple and straightens back up. You let out a contented hmm, and he hopes you’re dreaming of him.

He’s never needed anything more than to be under those covers with you.

Bradley undresses quickly in the walk-in closet and strips down to his boxer briefs, leaving his khakis to decorate the floor until sometime later when the sun was back up in the sky. Realizing as he takes off his watch that in his rush to get here that he’d left his bag with all his other laundry by the door at your apartment. A grunt of exasperation escapes him, and he’s glad that you’re a deep sleeper and the fact he keeps his baseball bat in the garage. Especially since he’s the one that taught you how to power swing.

The only sound in the room is of your even breaths and his carpet-muffled footsteps as he pads across the room. He lifts up the covers on your side of them bed and slides into the cool sheets, the stiffness in his joints loosening at the contact, and scoots in closer until he can feel your warmth.

He’d been in San Diego for the better part of four hours now, but he hadn’t been truly home until about thirty seconds ago.

Bradley debates for a split-second whether or not to let you sleep or if he should wake you up so you’re not startled to find a 6’ 1” aviator back in bed with you. But he knows you well enough to make an educated guess. He murmurs your name, rubbing a hand gently up and down along your back, and presses his lips together when you let out a soft, sleepy sigh.

You jolt a little as you ease back into consciousness. “B-bradley?”

“It’s just me,” he hums in confirmation as he squeezes your hip, all sleep-warmed skin under his palm. He doesn’t miss the way you relax instantly against him at the sound of his voice, settling further back into him.

“You’re home early.” You reach back for him, your hand finding the base of his head, lightly scratching at his scalp as you weave your fingers through his hair.

“Mav either pulled some strings or took one for the team by staying another day, but we all jumped at the chance to get out of Le-snore early.” You let out a little snort at that.

“’re you hungry?” you offer sleepily, the words a bit slurred and strung together. “Do you want me to make you something?” Bradley is equal parts amused and endeared that you’re not even half way awake yet and wanting to look after him.

His sweet girl.

He presses an affectionate kiss on the back of your neck and wonders if you can feel his soft smile, the one that’s reserved for only you.

“Nah, I’m good,” he says, resting his chin on your shoulder, “I promise.”

He’d snagged a couple protein bars from the mess on base and had scarfed them down as he filled out his overdue flight logs. But also, there was no way he was getting out of this bed now that he was in it. Not for anything in the world.  

Bradley leans in close, letting his lips skim against your ear, “You know this could count as breaking and entering, kid. Always knew that good girl thing was just an act.”

You lightly tug on his hair. “I don’t think that would hold up in court of law seeing as you gave me a key and all,” you retort, you voice still low and raspy from sleep.

“I’m pretty sure I gave my best friend a key,” he drawls, teasingly, “Don’t remember giving my girlfriend one though.” He drops a kiss to your soft-cotton covered shoulder. The shirt you were wearing was one he’d completely forgotten about until you sent him that picture of you in bed sometime past 2am in the early days of when you’d started dating, before the two of you had sex for the first time. His name was printed on the back- right at the very top- along with all the other players on the Washington High Cardinals baseball team from the year they’d won the championship. “Think ‘m going to have to fix that.”

You shake your head amused into his pillow before looking at him from over your shoulder and turning to lean back into his chest. When your eyes meet, there’s nothing but fondness reflected in them. Yours is a face he’s known most of his life, he could read you as easily as any book, and it’s even more apparent just a few inches away from his just how happy you are to see him.

He slides a hand around the side of your neck, his thumb caressing your cheek as he drinks you in. His eyes travel over your forehead, and along the curve of your cheekbones, and down the bridge of your nose, and lands on the dimples framing your smile.

thereyouarethereyouare

Bradley dips down to kiss you for the first time in a week. Your lips part easily, like you’ve been waiting for this too. There’s no rush. Your kiss is slow like honey off a spoon. Just as sweet as it’s meant to be savored. And there’s no doubt in his mind that this was always how it was supposed to be.

You and him.

Him and you.

Together.

“Hi, sweet girl,” he says, warmly.

“Hi, Bradley.” You tilt your head up for another kiss, one he has no intention withholding from you. “I missed you.”

It’s a new feeling for him, knowing he has someone to miss him when he is away. And having someone to miss in return. It’s been a long time since he’s had that in any real way that truly mattered. Bradley knows he’s due for a deployment soon, one that’ll take him from you- from this bed- for months. He’s already found the perfect thing to give you for when he leaves, something to show you how he’ll be thinking of you. But he doesn’t want to dwell on that inevitable reality.

For now, he just wants to share your warmth and focus on the feel of you pressed against him. Enjoying the luxury of getting to have this with you.

He just lets himself hold you the way you deserve to be held. He lets himself kiss you the way you deserve to be kissed. He’ll love you the way you deserve to be loved for as long as you’ll have him.

“I missed you too.” Whispering your name because he likes feel of it in his mouth.

“I think I was having a dream about you,” you murmur against his lips.

Bradley grins. “Yeah? Was it dirty?” You laugh in response, it’s his favorite sound. Happy. You make him so damn happy. He buries his face in the nook where your neck meets your shoulder and breathes you in. Lavender and cedar. Your favorite lotion to put on before bed, and something of his that he can’t put his finger on. “Mm, you smell good.”

“I took a shower before bed, used your body wash,” you tell him, running your hand along his arm. He senses you smile before he hears it. “And you smell like Jake.”

He groans and rubs the coarse hairs of his mustache against the soft skin of your neck. You giggle and try to squirm away from his prickly retaliation, but he’s got you basically pinned to the bed now. All your perfect curves against his firm angles.

“I can’t believe he’s still using a black ice tree air freshener like a damn sixteen-year-old,” Bradley grumbles. As if him and Seresin hadn’t spent enough quality time together over the week, now he was basically in bed with him and his girlfriend.

“At least you’ll know what to get him for his birthday,” you offer less than helpfully, playfully nudging his foot with yours.

Bradley chuckles and props himself up on an arm to gaze at you. He can feel the need for sleep settling over him, the long day and the longer week catching up with him that now he’s home and here with you. He can tell you’re drowsy too from the dewy way you’re blinking at him, and appreciative that you’re indulging him in this bit of pillow talk. In the quiet of his bedroom, he admits, “I went to your apartment first.”

You look almost bashful when you say, “I like these sheets better.” Both of you know that’s not your real answer for why you’re in his bed instead of yours.

He lifts an eye brow, meaningfully. “You have the same ones at your place.” Bradley knows because he made sure to check and buy the same kind for his own bed.

“Semantics,” you reply, breezily. Although he catches a hint of a pleased smile before you lean into trail a few kisses along the underside of his jaw. “Do you want your side of the bed back?” you ask.

“It’s our bed, sweet girl. You can sleep wherever you want,” Bradley says, “I’m good just as long as I can hold my girl.”

You thumb at the dimple of his chin, gazing up at him, “Have you gotten much sleep this week?”

Bradley just hums in response.

The softest of looks coast over your face. Understanding, sympathy, tenderness. It’s all there painted on your face from the little furrow between your eyebrows to the thoughtful search in your eyes as you read his face in return. He didn’t even say a word and you’ve got him figured out.

You tug on his arm and turn back over, taking him with you. Snuggling in so that your body is cradled closer to his, his chest all but pressed against your back. He slides his arm under your pillow and finds your other hand, threading his larger fingers between your own.

He situates your pillow beneath his head, sighing as he gets comfortable on the supportive mattress. He runs his palm over the familiar dip of your waist as you stretch and burrow in further, getting ready to go back to sleep. His fingertips find the edge of your cotton underwear and he follows it over your hip and along the side of your stomach, slipping one under the band to stroke at the soft skin near your hipbone.

It's the same spot where he’d find you butterflies if the two of you weren’t reversed from the way you usually fall asleep facing the other direction. Their location was a pinpoint in his mind, memorized from the moment he’d seen them that very first night together. He liked imagining he could feel the delicate lines of them under his fingertips as he drifted to sleep.

He hears the almost inaudible catch of your breath at his touch. “In the morning,” he promises.

You make a half-hearted noise of dissatisfaction, already well on your way to falling back asleep. He feels more than a little self-satisfied that he’s the one getting these reactions from you, that you want his touch just as much as he wants yours.

“Tease.” You nestle in closer, your ass brushing against his cock in a way that leaves no question it had been done on purpose.

“Menace,” he chuckles, lightly.

You hum, a pleased sound and reach for his wrist, removing temptation for the both of you and slide his hand beneath your shirt right to the very spot above your bellybutton where he normal finds its drifted to during the night on the mornings he wakes up with you in his arms.

The two of you fit together better than he ever could have possibly imagined.

“Hey, kid, what’re you doing tomorrow? I wanted to take you to breakfast.”

“To the place with the banana pancakes?”

Kisses the crown of your head, and he thinks he hears you sigh. “Wherever you want.”

“I could get away with a little hooky,” you yawn, “Maybe we could go to the beach too. Wanna spend the day with you.”

Bradley pulls you in closer, and closes his eyes. “Sounds like a plan.”

“I can’t wait.” It’s more of a sleepy mumble than anything else, but he’s already looking forward to waking up.

He listens as your breathing slowly evens out, knowing when you’ve fully drifted off. It didn’t take you long, the way it never seems to when he’s in bed beside you.

Maybe one day soon he’ll get to have you here with him every night. But until then, this is more than enough, he’s happy to fall asleep with his dream girl tucked on his arm.

Bradley lets himself imagine the day where you come and stay and it’s for good this time, because all of your clothes are in the closet and your mail gets delivered along with his.

And it won’t be just his favorite dream, it’ll be his reality.

I will never not be down bad for a smitten Bradley Bradshaw! Thank you to @yourlocalcringydaydreamer for sending the ask that inspired this soft fic!

Thank you for reading!

You can read more about these two or check out all of my stories here!

taglist:

@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted  @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @startrekfangirl2233 @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @shanimallina87 @angelbabyange 

[kermdoeswriting]

Bruce Wayne's a Foster Parent. Also he avoids death a lot so a dead person can usually tell if a humans meant to have died but didn't.

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

"Bruce you know I wouldn't ask this of you if I didn't have to but-"

Bruce just sighed from his side of the phone, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Nobody ever really expects to get a phone call nearing 3 am but exceptions had to be made when you were a legal foster parent and also a part-time secret super hero. If it wasn't one thing calling for him it was the other.

On the other side of the phone, Bruce heard the caseworker, Roni, chuckle.

"It's just for 3 nights and half of the day after, but I need you to be prepared for something before I can pass them off to you."

Bruce sat upright now on his bed, attentively listening to her words. Usually the kids didn't really come with any pre-warnings from the Caseworker themselves, letting anything about each Foster kid be said inside of their personal files that got sent along with them.

But when she gave out this information it was usually important. The last time Bruce had gotten a warning like this it was for Jason which was ages ago it feels at this point.

"What is it?"

"The kids are-" Her voice trailed off, like as if she was still searching for the right words to say. "They've been through what I can honestly only describe as the equivalent to a meta-kid trafficking lab"

Bruce shifted as he heard the driving continue on the other side of the phone.

"They're very guarded because of what they went through and they might display.. unusual behavior. More unusual then a meta-kids behavior after such a situation would be, but don't let it fool you! The kids are really sweet beyond being afraid."

Bruce frowns at the descriptions before replying to her, mentally trying to prepare himself for the idea of these kids and what they might have went through.

"I'll make a note of it then. Thank you, Roni"

"No, thank you, Bruce. I really appreciate this last minute placement. We'll be by really soon"

He was left with a click as he removed himself off his bed and threw the covers to the side of him. Alfred would want to know that they would have 2 new guests in the manor, at the very least to greet them and have rooms prepared even if they didn't need to have them prepared further then what they already were.

It was less then 5 minutes later that Bruce found himself, with Alfred, greeting the temporary fosters at the front door. Roni looked tiredly at them as she pushed the kids front and center.

Bruce could relate heavily.

"Hello Danny, Ellie. It's nice to meet you both, I'm Bruce Wayne."

Danny just stared at the mans outstretched hand for a second before he turned to look up at him, a pinched look on his face. Ellie matched his expression, although being a bit more subtle about it as she looked over Bruce as a whole.

Eerily, Bruce felt like his very soul was being judge the longer the kids stared at him. He also felt a sense of familiarity with these two kids the longer this continued.

They seemed detached rather than afraid like their caseworker had explained earlier, more so viewing the world as if they were outside of it rather then in it in any way.

Danny was quick to glare at him after another moment, "You're a fruit-loop, aren't you?"

Ellie broke from her own scanning almost immediately when she heard Danny's comment, cackling beside him before shoving him off with her arm. The action made Bruce smile as he took his arm back and placed it by his side.

Alfred also looked amused between the pair of siblings before turning attention to the task at hand again. Bruce just smiled at his pseudo-fathers usual fondness over children, knowing he was being reminded of his own grandchildren.

"This is Alfred. He's going to be the one to show you over to your rooms for the next few nights." Alfred greeted the kids in the same polite way he usually greeted all guests before he leaned down and extended his hands towards their belongings. He didn't grab their belongings just remained leaning over them before questioning the kids if they would like help to take their stuff to their rooms.

Bruce only really saw it faintly and if it were any other moment he might have ignored it as a sleepless hallucination, but for some reason he noticed the change immediately. The twins eyes go from a darker blue to a flashing bright green.

As if alarmed by the sudden movement towards their belongings.

Danny was quick to catch his own staring as well, eyes flashing back to blue for only a second before reverting back to green. Almost as if to give off some kind of warning.

Ellie noticed his staring immediately and shoved Danny again, this time more forceful for his attention before turning to whisper something to him when she had him back.

Bruce felt his skin crawl before turning away to face their caseworker, not really understanding anything they were saying beyond hearing a few words and feeling their eyes look between each other and his back.

Death Touched was an especially new description, and one that stuck in his head the second he heard it.

Bruce waited until the kids were guided away by Alfred before talking to their caseworker officially and waking her up from her half delirious tired drop-off.

"Hey Roni? Is there any chance we can extend the Fenton kids stay?"

There was something going on here with these kids and he was going to get to the bottom of it. One way or another.

[hello-from-nrc-infirmary]

Vern's Hometown: Centennial Celebration

Book 5: Finale

Chapter 3: Sunset

Formal is irrelevant. The firelight gains prominence as daylight fades. More logs are added, allowing smoke to fill the air. The younger children slowly leave for their beds. Others stay, laughing with friends. Their joyful cacophony is almost drowned out by the rambunctious music.

Smoke and ash wisp into shadows. The kaleidoscope of prancing images twirl around them. An illusion of flowers dance underfoot. If any attempted to touch them, they would vanish.

Soot is kicked up with every step. Vern's stained skirts flare out on another spin. It's strange and comforting to have a partner. A familiar dance he can do in the deepest of sleeps now flutters anew with every beat. A few steps bring them back.

Sweat shimmers across their foreheads. The minutes and hours bleed together. One melody into another. An iridescent fish ballet weaves around the dancers. A bubbling laughter spills from Vern. Steel smiles, his own airy laugh joins in.

"What's... so funny?"

The sprite meets his gaze breathlessly, "I'm... really happy."

"Eh?"

Joined hands lift above to spin around. The area around them is barely a blurr. Focus returning to Steel, the sprite tries to calm himself. "I-is he still umm..."

"Yeah, on my six."

"... let's um... not think about him," Vern tries. His head feels light, a mild dizziness buzzes down from it.

".. okay."

He welcomes night's breath cooling his skin like autumn rain. Vern can tell when some musicians would take a break and join back in. A simple rotation, yet easy to get lost in. Forgetting the world is hard, yet indulging in a moment is effortless.

For this bubble in time, emotion vibrates the air. Colorful shapes morph to each beat. It has been too long since his muscles felt like a newborn foal finding it's footing. Who is keeping who from collapsing is unclear. The firm earth underfoot is the only certainty.

A gasp from the onlookers is nearly drowned by the rhythm. A string pulls at his mind. His eyes want to follow, yet a turn blocks his view. His brow creases as he attempts to see behind Steel. "Ver.."

Pink dusts the sprites cheeks. It's only one word, a fraction of his name. The syllables spoken softly warms him. Tearing his focus back to his friend, he tries to stay on his toes.

"Almost," Steel winks, "we have to finish this one."

"Y-yeah," Vern manages a dizzy nod. His amber eyes sting, but not from the smoke. A soothing wave rolls through his veins, easing his tension. He almost misses a familiar, icy crack.

Chapter 4: Dusk

A tight spin jostles his focus. Flashes of magic collide. The music falters as smoke billows through the remaining crowd. Vern squeezes his eyes shut against it. Tucking himself against Steel, he waits for the air to settle. He flinches, as a drop hits his cheek.

"Er.. sorry."

The sprite swears the liquid away. Checking his bandages, he finds an inky substance he's well acquainted with.

"It's alright, I um..." he pauses, ducking as Steel casts another counter spell, "don't mind."

Sparkling green mist flares from Vern's hands. Vines burst from the ground to restrain Victor. "Enough!"

Snowflakes drift around them. Citizens that stayed murmur in uneasy awe. The spring sprite trembles slightly, his muscles begging for rest. "Do you forfeit the challenge?"

There's a rumble underfoot. Stumbling, Vern's spell loosens as spikes of ice shoot out of the dirt. He's tackled. Air is knocked from his lungs despite the cushioned fall.

"You alright? Any injuries?"

Vern slowly blinks up at Steel, gasping while registering the questions. "U-umm... I'm fine... I think..."

"Why," Victor's voice rings out above the chaos, icicles forming in the air around him. "Why do you reject everything I do for you?!"

Ooc// Welcome to the final boss fight.

Tag List: @nrcbookclub @castaway-achlys @nightonthemountain

Songs for the dance:

There's Nothing Holding Me Back by Shawn Mendes

A Bar Song (Tipsy) by Shaboozey

I Don't Wanna Wait by David Guetta & OneRepublic

Roundtable Rival by Lindsey Stirling

Élan by Nightwish

Songs for Everyone vs. Victor:

It Ends Tonight by All-American Rejects

Liar by Jelly Roll

Ready For This by All Good Things

Trophy Hunter by Within Temptation

[moonstruckme]

heya!! i was wondering if you could write a poly!marauders x reader where r stopped smoking..? i’m 6 months clean from smoking nicotine and i haven’t told anyone (you’re the first!! lmao) just incase i break from a stressful day and so i don’t disappoint!! could you maybe write that into the drabble or whatever you do..? tysm if you do, and if you don’t then no worries!!

i love you mae and make sure to take care of yourself and keep being you!!!!

thanks for requesting gorgeous, i really hope you're doing well!! proud of you <3

cw: smoking, reader deals with addiction

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 936 words

Remus smells like cigarettes. He’s stopped smoking anywhere near you, but you’re sure if you look out the front door you’ll see the telltale smear of ash smashed into the sidewalk from where he’d stamped one out on the way in. The aroma brings longing and self-loathing, the former more potent than the latter, and you find yourself breathing in the fibers of his sweater for a whiff of it. 

Remus doesn’t catch onto the true motivation for your proximity. He takes it for cuddling, adjusting his hold on his book so he can read with one hand while the other wraps around your shoulders, encouraging you closer to his side. Underneath the heady smell of lingering smoke he smells like himself, like cinnamon and oranges, and you try to focus on that as your better sense fogs over and your fingers start itching for a cig. 

“Aha!” Sirius slaps his last card down on the table. 

James blows out a flabbergasted breath, leaning back on his hands on the floor. They’re playing some kids’ card game Remus learned in primary school and unwisely taught them. At first you’d all gotten into it, but after Sirius nearly took your head off for forgetting the rules and playing with two hands (“Sorry, gorgeous, you know I don’t mean anything I say when I’m trying to win…and I could have won, couldn’t I? No, I’m just saying, it’s about the principle—”) you and Remus had bowed out. James and Sirius have retained their obsession for days, each keeping a scoreboard in their own heads that seems to hold them in favor. 

“Angel?” 

You look up, meeting James’ knowing gaze. “Hm?” 

“He asked if you’re getting hungry for dinner,” Remus clues you in, toying with the ends of your hair. 

“Oh, sorry. Um…” You think hard. One of the more irritating things about quitting smoking is that now your appetite never seems to fully die down. You’re ready for your next meal all day long, and so you actually have to think about whether it makes sense for you to have it. “I had some carrots just after I got home, so I could eat whenever you want to.” 

“Alright…” 

You take another deep inhale, telling yourself it’s because Remus smells nice and losing your grasp on self-control all the while. 

“Are you tired?” Remus asks, and you don’t know how you didn’t notice it before, that extra bit of roughness that his voice takes on after he’s been smoking. You’re so envious you could die. “You seem distracted.” 

“I’m good,” you murmur. Though perhaps it’d be better if you did take a nap or something. You’re beginning to feel twitchy. You take in a breath through your nose like you’ve been practicing, letting it out through your mouth. 

“Ah.” Sirius scoots closer to you, laying his cheek on the couch cushion. “You want to have a piece of your gum, sweet thing?” 

You look at him guiltily. Remus makes a soft sound of realization. 

“You’re picking your nails,” Sirius explains, and you look down to see that you are. “I imagine that means you’re craving one.” 

It’s simultaneously sweet and irksome that none of your boyfriends will even say the word cigarette around you anymore. They’re trying to be considerate, you know, but it feels like they think your self-control is so tenuous that just one word could shatter it. You don’t have the heart to tell them. 

“Sorry,” you mumble, getting the pack of gum out of your pocket. Just the act of unwrapping a stick makes you feel instantly better. “I guess I was thinking I wouldn’t need it anymore.” 

“Don’t be sorry,” James says lightly. “I don’t imagine it’s easy, sweetheart, you shouldn’t feel bad about using something to cope. It’s not like having gum hurts anything.” 

You hum, then turn to Remus sheepishly. “I’m really sorry, do you think you might be able to change?” He looks confused. “Your sweater smells like cigarettes,” you explain. 

James gasps as though scandalized and Remus swears, grabbing the neckline of his sweater and tugging it off. He tosses it into the hall. 

“M’sorry, dove.” He takes your head between his hands, mushing a kiss into your hair. He’s now bare-chested, and you laugh at the dramatics, totally unexpected from him. “I didn’t realize. Is it better now?” 

“Yeah, thanks.” 

He drops another kiss on your head, remorseful. “Alright, I’ll go grab something else to wear,” he says, starting to stand. Both Sirius and James protest loudly. 

“I think what you’re wearing now looks great,” says James. 

“Yeah,” Sirius seconds, “stay in that.” 

Remus looks down at his shirtless torso, raising an eyebrow at the other boys. You can see the amusement dancing in his eyes. 

“Really?” he asks. 

“Come on, it’s not like the fucking Pope’s coming over,” Sirius says, looking well below your boyfriend’s eyes with unabashed enthusiasm. “Tell him, gorgeous.” 

Remus turns his gaze on you. You curl in on yourself slightly, shrugging your shoulders. “This is the best distraction I’ve had all day,” you say quietly, and James’ laughter booms off the walls. 

“Fair enough.” Remus rolls his eyes, grinning as he sits back down on the couch beside you. You get comfy like you were against his side, now smelling only him. He drapes his arm across your back, settling a hand on your hip. “The lows I stoop to for you, hm?” 

“If you’re not up to the task,” Sirius says, “just say the word. I’d be happy to take her off your hands.” 

“Fuck off,” Remus says, and tugs you closer.

[assexpansion]

You asked me to write a story about a girl falling asleep in a special hot-tub at a spa, so how about I ask you this:

A petite girl who's spending some time at her new private pool in her new home, where something occurs, of course granting her breasts, belly and butt of tremendous proportions? I'll leave the details to you, you're a writing genius after all <3

Off The Deep End (18+/Incest/Hyper)

After 8 years of education, 2 diplomas, and a successfully defended thesis, a well-deserved summer break awaited Ariana at her parents' new home. They welcomed their short but high-achieving daughter with welcome arms and began the tour of the small mansion. Their daughter was enchanted by the luxury abode, especially its pool...

Ariana was feeling burnt-out by the last push of studying, so the family's mansion, where she'd be fed and could relax, was like a dream oasis. Then, she noticed the back of her older step-brother Benji's head under the backyard gazebo. Her dream cracked. Her parents encouraged her to chat and catch up with him, noting that he was in charge of preparing the new pool, before returning inside to cook a 'Welcome Home' dinner for their favorite child.

She approached Benji, who was faced away and on his phone with earbuds in. Typical. He never made any effort to be nice to her. So why should she? While Ariana was off making their family proud, Benji had taken the low road of slacking and wasting away his life. The last thing she wanted to do was make small talk with him. It was bad enough that they were related.

"Hey, gues what? Im back! They really went all out with this place, huh?" Ariana said as friendly as possible.

Her eyes flicked to the small screen her brother was looking at.

"Benji... are you... watching porn?"

The distinct figure of a huge-titted, big-bellied, fat-assed blonde woman struggling to sit up from her seat was there, plain as day. Ariana paused in surprise and disgust as she saw the ridiculously proprotioned pornstar from behind Benji's shoulder. The side of his face was expressionless and slightly slackjawed as he watched. Ariana could hear faint, feminine groans from his earbuds with each lurch of her huge body.

"Umm, what the fuck are you watching?" Ariana snapped. "Benji! Im right behind you!" She cried out, stomping her foot down to get his attention.

But Benji made no sign that he had heard her, immersed in the video. He was totally enamored with the triple-extra-large woman on the screen. She was perfect, he thought. Who needed money or school when a clear purpose in life; to serve, worship, and feed a happy, fattened woman was right there? His own daydream was shattered as Ariana ripped the cords out of his head and began yelling in his ear.

"What the hell do you think you're doing watching that out here?!"

Benji's face flushed in embrassment. He raised his hand in admittance, still holding his cellphone with the video playing out loud as he spoke.

"Okay, okay. It's off!"

"God, I'm just so heavy!" It played.

"I didn't think anyone was around!" Benji snapped.

"My stupid fat ass can't even get up!"

"I guess.. welcome back, Ariana." He mumbled.

"I'm such a big, brainless butterball!"

Ariana snatched the device and paused the video. She held the phone to her brother's throat like a knife.

"I've only been here for five minutes and you've already found a way to ruin it." She growled. "Don't let me catch you watching this again."

Benji nodded and gingerly took the device out of her hands.

"Now, how about you get the pool ready so I can start my vacation?" She asked, more of a demand than a question.

The siblings split apart with Ariana resting in a different outdoor seat under the gazebo while Benji gathered the pool conditioners. His earlier cowardice festered into a black anger as he thought about how she had treated him. Ariana was perfect, and he was nothing. It was all he had heard throughout his life. The nerve of that stuck-up little brat. I'll show her, he thought.

Ariana watched as her lumpy step-brother poured a half gallon of pool-aid into the calm water. Unbeknownst to her it was mixed with a large scoop of a secret powder he'd stored away for a special occasion. The pink grains in the white solution slowly mixed into the aquamarine water. Whatever, she deserves it, especially after sneaking up on him. He tested the water with a strip and deemed it safe. Benji hid his knowing smirk, putting on a solemn face as he approached Ariana.

"Hey, so... I'm sorry about that. You're right. That was gross and not cool of me." He said with a sincere tone. "I know we fight, but Mom and Dad just want us to be on good terms with each other. I think they want a little bit of you to rub off on me." He said calmly.

It was easy to lie when you know you've already won, Benji thought. "Anyways, I was going to have the first dip in the new pool, but... would you like to have the honor?"

Ariana was slightly shocked by this more compassionate side of her brother. Maybe he was turning over a new leaf. Wow! And all it took was catching him watching fat fetish videos. Who knew?

"What I saw is going to burned into my mind, but... sure. Thanks, Benji." Ariana said, only gritting her teeth a little.

She swiftly changed into a two-piece swimsuit that showed off her trim body and cautiously stepped down the pool's ladder. Benji sat on the seat nearby, fiddling on his phone as she dove headfirst into the spiked mixture.

"How's the water?" He asked as Ariana surfaced.

"Not bad. Cooler than I thought." She answered, glancing towards him. "Are you looking at more of those videos?"

Benji rolled his eyes. "No."

"I mean, I guess it's okay that you do. It's weird, but everyone's got different tastes. Just keep it to your bedroom, okay?"

"Got it, loud and clear." He said in monotone, trying to go along with whatever she said to act casual.

It was easy to take the high road when he knew that she'd have her just deserts. Ariana treaded water in the shallow end, not quite tall enough to touch the bottom. Unbeknownst to her, Benji's dissolved powder had begun absorbing into her skin the moment she had entered the pool. As it did, the tiny clumping grains collected throughout her small body, stimulating and reforming Ariana from the inside.

"I don't mean to re-open that can of worms, but can I ask why? Like, why do you like those... types of women?." She called out across the quiet backyard.

The flushed Benji had to consider that. However, it was difficult to when his step-sisters' breasts were beginning to fill her swimsuit. The green cheetah pattern was clearly warping, even through the ripples of her twirling arms. His focus dulled as he stared at the B-cup breasts that she had never had before. Mouth slightly agape, he shook to his senses and tried to remember the question.

"Well, umm... I guess it's a, uh... primal thing. You know, like if a woman is big and happy, then that means she's cared for... and can bare children." He said off the fly.

Ariana held the edge of the pool to breathe and considered his answer. Below her elegant nose and dark lips, the tops of two bulges began to rise out of the water. Her C-cups swelled to D-cups in a matter of seconds as the osmotic powder filled the growing woman up. Benji watched her breasts inflate and settle, dropping into fat tits that began to poke out from the sides of her swimsuit as she pushed off and resumed treading water. With each rotation of her limbs, they looked thicker and thicker. Benji needed to talk or do something to stop himself from ogling her.

"Maybe that's where it stems from, but there's more to it. Like, individual preferences." He continued, trying to keep her attention from drifting.

"Fair." She said, nodding with an agreeing raise of her eyebrows. "But, it's, like, so extreme. That woman was what? Four thousand pounds?"

He looked beneath her blossoming breasts to the totally out of character potbelly that was pushing out from Ariana's midsection, making her look a few months pregnant.

"That's right." Benji said. "And I bet that woman in the video makes more than you and me both ever will."

"At the cost of her body, though." Ariana finished wistfully. "But, after six years in school, the thought of cashing out and going brain-dead isn't half bad now that I think about it."

A nagging righteous voice told Benji that enough was enough. His step-sister had already changed more than it would need to totally affect her life. It's already done then, another voice countered. Benji knew their parents had bought this mansion and it's pool on a whim while she was completing her second degree, sure that even if their finances fell apart, the brilliant Ariana would find a high-paying job to support them. Benji rolled his eyes back and saved the thought of her extreme proportions in a business suit. Her chances of being taken seriously with huge H-cups were slim, Benji selfishly thought. Maybe she'd be better at something else.

"Would you ever consider it?" Benji asked, wincing as she slowly swam her much rounder body towards the pool ladder.

"Only if I was desperate" Ariana answered promisingly.

She kicked fattening thighs that wouldn't look out of place on her mom, he thought. In just a minute or less, the powder had turned Ariana into a stacked, plump sex goddess.

"Well, this might be easier than I imagined then." Benji said with a grin as he stood up.

As she reached the ladder and began to pull herself up, Ariana noticed her body felt four times heavier than it was before. Benji walked toward the ladder where his step-sister was realizing just how big she was. Followed by him were their parents carrying the 'Welcome Home' dinner. Ariana flashed him a dead eyed sideways look of cold rage as she looked up from her changed body.

"Oh, you are so dead." She breathed before all of hell broke loose.

[chiaraswritings]

Gossip and Galas

Disclaimer: I do not own DC or their settings. This is certainly not canon.

Warnings & Topics: Alcohol, derogatory language, crowds, sexual references, comfort. 18+.

Word Count: 1.9K words

Summary: Shortly after her engagement to Bruce Wayne, fem!reader is met with the gossip that comes with it at one of his charity galas.

Author's Note: Finally made a masterlist, so go ahead and check that out for more fluffy stories like this. Comforting fics like this are just what I like for winter weather. I hope all of you are having a wonderful holiday season, and I hope you enjoy.

Listen on Spotify while you read…

My bracelets clinked against each other on my wrist, sliding down my arm as I lifted my hand to brush back my hair, my focus never leaving the man whose arm I was grasping. He stood tall, the suit looking almost small on his frame, smiling politely while he escorted me into the ballroom. This year’s charity gala was quite full, very few people had sent their regrets. The champagne gown that hung over my body glittered, matching the diamond jewelry framing my face.

One diamond I kept hidden in my fiance's arm, dodging the prying eyes full of curiosity. Everyone wanted to see the size of the rock he had placed on my finger, desperate to be the first to share the flaming news. He had only proposed a week before, and it had hit the news almost overnight. Now, it was a free-for-all to see who could get the inside scoop first.

Breaking through my thoughts, he tilted his head downwards to hum, “Did I tell you that you look stunning tonight?” 

His comment pulled a smile out of my peach-tinted lips. “You’ve said that six times.”

“Then let me say it a seventh time, you look absolutely stunning.” With the gentlest touch, he placed his hand over my arm in a comforting gesture. The affection made me forget everything for a moment, before the inevitable began. 

Guests from all directions began to approach us, important names from all over Gotham, curious voices disguised with polite words. His smile opened ten different conversations at once, and I contented myself with the image of a silent trophy wife. Naturally, I had plenty to say, many words I wanted to make heard, but this was neither the time nor the place. 

As I moved my left hand away from Bruce’s arm to brush away a strand of hair from my face, someone caught it in a tight grip. 

“What a beautiful ring this is! What a size! Your finger is going to get tired of wearing that…” My hand was immediately surrounded by a group of five or six women, all peering down at the newly acquired engagement ring. My natural reaction was to jerk my hand back, but as I did, I was met with disapproving and disheartening looks from the curious viewers. I slowly let my hand slide back into place, allowing them to inspect with judgemental astonishment. 

I turned my head back to Bruce in a silent plea for rescue, but he was occupied with a champagne glass in his hand and several well-dressed gentlemen holding his attention. Now a small crowd was gathered around my hand, many pairs of eyes leering. Using my sweetest smile, I was slowly able to pry free from the spectators and rejoin my fiance in the moment. The moment didn’t last very long. 

As more and more people moved past, my lips became a straighter and straighter line. When Bruce noticed that my grip on his arm was becoming a little too tight for comfort, he turned to me with a whisper. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, can we… start walking?” I turned my head in the direction of the bar. 

“Of course.” He gently guided me in the alluring direction of sparkling wine glasses, leaving a small trail of party-goers behind us. 

Several exchanged words later between the bartender, and he placed a glass of wine in my hand, which I began to sip instantly. “Sorry I’m getting so uptight, I always think I’m going to handle parties better than I do.” 

“It’s okay. Don’t think twice about it.” He placed a kiss on my cheek before eyeing another group of guests walking towards us with conversation topics written all over their faces. “Do you mind?”

“No, no, of course not. Go on, have fun.” My smile was fake, but my love was real. I watched him move off into the crowd, entertaining the many who were trying to catch his eye. He was going to have a good time, socialize, and later tonight I’d get all his attention.

I moved into a corner, next to a large, decorative ivory pillar where I could ease my tension and finish my glass of wine. I watched another party of women moving past me, their stares nearly piercing my left hand. Quickly, I shifted my glass into my right hand and put my left behind my back. Not only did I feel judged, I felt ridiculous. Tonight I was supposed to be the princess on the arm of my prince, ravishing in the glory of the spotlight.

It didn’t feel like glory, and I didn’t feel glorious. I didn’t want to be on his arm right now. As exciting as it was to be nearly royal for a night, after all the comments, whispers, and questions, I felt used, almost dirty. Tonight I’d been called many things in overheard conversation. So far I could mark gold-digger, leech, and other appealing titles off the list.

As I took a rather embarrassing gulp of my wine, I could hear feminine voices moving closer on the other side of the pillar. I turned my head, ready to move to a more secluded spot, before I caught a snippet of their conversation. When I heard my name, I sucked in my stomach, trying to disappear behind the stone to eavesdrop. 

“Did you see how vain she looked on his arm? I can’t believe how proud she is.”

“Especially after he probably pulled her out of the gutter. Who knows how many rich, brainless guys she’s played around with.” 

“You know she’s just waiting to sink her teeth into that divorce settlement.”

“Can you believe he’s so dense that he’d buy her such a huge ring? Somebody’s gotta tell him before she runs away with the next moneybag that smiles at her.”

“He’ll definitely be single in a few months. Don’t worry, Liv, you’ll get your shot with him.”

“Where’d she even come from?”

“Streets, no doubt.”

“You know, that’s probably why he’s with her! He hired her and then…”

“He fell for her the first time she gave him head.”

“Girls like her…”

“I know. What a slut.”

Gold-digger I could handle. Leech hurt, but it was fine. Slut was a cut I couldn’t manage right now. Maybe if my social energy wasn't gone, I might’ve appeared from behind the pillar looking like a goddess and given them a smart remark that would leave their glossed mouths gaping and their confidence rattled.

But that wasn’t where I was at right now. 

Instead I was back at the bar, fleeing their snickers and giggles, asking the bartender to hand over another bottle of Cabernet and to not ask questions. With the bottle tucked safely under my arm and the stem of a wine glass between my fingers, I fled to the safety of the private quarters of the manor. Before I ascended the first flight of stairs, I kicked off my heels, letting them lay where they landed on the floor. My feet immediately felt relief even while climbing flight after flight of stairs till I reached the master bedroom Bruce and I had come to share. 

Realizing I had no corkscrew with me, I glared down at the bottle, calculating the quickest way to open it. I don’t need all my teeth, I thought to myself. Before I could get a chance to pry out the cork, the bedroom door opened behind me, startling me. I whipped around, my heart racing, feeling guilty for abandoning the gala and running away to drink alcohol.

“Thought you might need this.” Bruce stood in the doorway with a corkscrew, his face riddled with concern and a bit of amusement. 

“Don’t you dare laugh at me,” I ordered, marching to him and taking it from his hand. “And don’t act like you don’t have a thousand people downstairs asking for you. Duty calls.” I tried to shoo him away with my hand before he caught my wrist and pressed a kiss to my palm.

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily. I saw your face when you left.”

“Go away, I have a date with a wine glass. I’ll tell you later.”

“(Y/N).” He calmly ushered me away from the door and sat me on the foot of the bed.

“I heard some… people… saying… things… about me.” I managed to get out. 

“Which people? I’ll have them removed right now. What did they say?” His fingers brushed away loose hair that hung in front of my face.

“Nothing. I don’t want to think about it. Let me just…” I looked at him and then at the waiting bottle of Cabernet. 

“Absolutely, want some company?”

Yes. “No, it’s okay. You need to get back.”

“No, I don’t.” 

“Yes, you do! The gala has two more hours to run!” 

“It doesn’t matter, I’ll go next year.”

“Right. I’m serious, you’re going to be missed.”

“I’d rather be missed by them than by you.” His eyes glared into mine with stubborn insistence. I sighed.

“I’m not getting rid of you, am I?” 

“Not at all.”

“...Okay.”

Bruce grinned triumphantly before making his way to the cabinet in the corner of the room and retrieving another wine glass. When he returned, his arm automatically wrapped around my waist. “Tell me what they said about you.”

“It’s not worth it,” I replied, finally managing to open the bottle of wine.

“Allow me,” Bruce took the bottle from my hand to pour both our glasses and pressed a kiss behind my ear. “You’re going to tell me after you finish this glass anyway, might as well tell me now.” 

My glare wasn’t enough to deter him from his quest for an answer. “They said you pulled me from the streets, and that I was a slut, and I was going to divorce you and run away with somebody else…” 

“But that’s not true, is it?” He caught my chin with his fingers and tilted it upwards, forcing me to look into his eyes. “I didn’t find you on the streets, I found you doing what you’re best at, working hard and making a career for yourself. I can’t think of a more admirable thing you could be doing.” 

I smiled at the flashback to when we had crossed paths in a business meeting. “Mhm.”

“If anything, I don’t deserve you. Not only are you beautiful, you complete me. You make me better.” 

My eyes closed as he pressed a very passionate, loving kiss to my lips. His hand rested on my waist, stroking with his thumb, sending tingles up my spine. When my eyes opened again, he was smiling. I couldn’t help but do the same. “Okay. Thank you for… all of this. Leaving the party for me.”

“You will always come first. What else did they say?”

“They said you fell in love with me the first time I gave you head.” 

He tilted his head, pretending to ponder the statement. “Well…”

Laughing, I gently shoved his shoulder. “Bruce!” 

“Okay, okay.” 

Below, the party-goers searched for us, but we didn’t return. The feeling was transforming, suddenly I felt like the most important and beautiful woman in the world. His world. There, with him, I started to feel myself not care what they said about me or what names they came up with. Here, I was just his. And that was enough.

✧ Masterlist

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[burningcheese-merchant]

So how do Goldie and Burns handle giving their kids

“THE TALK”

If they're Cookies, then they probably just explain that they took pieces each other's dough and mixed them together in some cookie batter before baking them in a Witch Oven (this is true btw, it was stated in an official artbook! That's how Cookies bake other Cookies)

If they're humans (which I actually do typically imagine them as, the only reason I don't draw them as such is because idk how to yet lol), then uh. That's awkward lol. Off the top of my head, I gues it would prob go like this

Pepper Jack is really good at telling when someone is lying to him, so you have to be careful with how you phrase things to him if you want to hide something. Burning Spice warded him off the first time he asked where he came from (he was like 8 or something) by saying "I baked you in your mother's oven", which is technically true without revealing anything inappropriate (Golden Cheese still smacked him when PJ wasn't looking tho)

There was no second time, PJ found out the truth in a book lol. He likes to read and haunts the library in the Golden Cheese Kingdom often. He found a book on anatomy and reproduction and the like and was horrified by it lol. Ran to Smoked Cheese (who is his mentor), SC felt forced to explain that the book is true. A little later, when BS sat him down to try to give him The Talk, PJ just snapped at him that he already knows everything and to go away bc he doesn't want to talk about that with his father it's gross lol (BS was relieved tbh he wasn't really looking forward to this day)

When Matar Paneer was a bit older, GC told Mozzarella that she wasn't super sure how to approach that subject w/ MP effectively. Being MP's teacher, Mozz ended up taking the initiative and just giving little sex ed lesson to MP herself lol (in an age-appropriate and educational manner, ofc. Like it was biology class). MP was horrified, went to her mom asking if she knew any of this and if it's real, she unfortunately confirmed that it is. GC was kind of huffy at Mozz for doing this, but she argued that the point was for MP to learn from a trustworthy and well-informed adult within an informative context, which was accomplished, so what's really the problem? GC can explain things better and on her own terms later if she wants, Mozz just laid some groundwork to help out

They were both about 12 or 13 when these things happened. Their childhood was ruined by their teachers and some medical textbooks lol

Neither could look their parents in the eye for a week or two just because they were so embarrassed knowing The Truth Of Their Existence

BS and GC still made them sit down and endure The Talk at a later date anyway, just to be sure they understood. They were not happy campers those days lol

[mr-laveau]

LaVeau-gue

Hello folks! Do you wanna have a design of your listener from a particular Audio RP series but have no idea how to draw or even design a listener who may appeal to your aesthetic sensibilities? Do you wanna change that?

I introduce you to LaVeau-gue! A thing that I, Laveau, have decided to do off of my own whims and personal curiosity!

How does the LaVeau-gue work?

Simple! Below you'll find a list of questions regarding your listener's personality, backstory, aesthetic, what audio RP fandom they're from, etc. You'll fill these out in a public ask and send them to me, Laveau, who will work on a design each week/based on my available time!

For those who may have not come across my art, lemme show you some examples of what you'd be getting:

If you're interested, here are the questions you need to fill out in regards to your listener design and send in your ask to me:

What's your listener's name and nickname?

What's their backstory?

What's the desired aesthetic of your listener character (punk, greaser, bimbo, scene kid, schoolgirl)?

What's your listener's gender presentation like?

What's your listener's ethnicity?

What's your listener's age?

What's your listener's body type/build?

What's your listener's star sign?

What are your listener's most important relationships and who are they connected to?

What's your listener's hobbies/interests?

If your listener was a deity from a known mythology, what deity would they be?

What Audio RP series are they from?

What kind of lover are they to their partner/what kind of friend are they?

What is something/are some things that your listener values?

Pick a song that you think represents your listener.

What's the inspiration behind your listener's design?

Could you give me a vague concept of what your listener's visual vibe is?

What are some extra tidbits you wanna tell me about your listener?

Those are the questions! I look forward to what you've gotta tell me about your listener!

[naishite]

TWITCHING

KINKTOBER

DAY 10: PRAISE

Zhongli

NSFW UNDER THE CUT

————————————

How did you end up in a comprimising position with filthy promises being said? Who knows, but who even cares — you can’t even pinpoint the origin of this all with him fucking you dimb into the sheets.

You’re face is shoved within the plush tear-stained pillow as your ass is in the air; desire is intoxicating the room as the atmosphere gets thicker with every breath.

As for your lover, Zhongli, you can feel and hear his heavy breath fanning against your shoulder, making you shudder and writhe. His chest against the back feels so warm like both your skins could burn from just the feeling.

“So good for me…” he murmers. You quiver in arousal from the praise; he seems to have taken notice of this as he relentlessly bucks his hips into you.

With each drag of his cock inside you, you are further quelled into pleasure. He presses his hand against your belly, pushing it slightly — making you feel the buldge of his cock within you. You tremble and mewl, feeling his cock throb in you.

“Do you feel that? How well you’re taking me? You’re so sweetly filthy.”

You slam your hips into him and he groans, placing both if his hands onto your waist, “I take it back…”. You’re getting reeled into ectasy and he chuckles at your carnal-like actions.

He captures your lips into a kiss, your wet to gues clashing against each other with his eyes parted to see your whorish expression.

You break the kiss, your parted lips mewling his name through the sounds of sloppy and wet thrusts, “Zhongli…”.

“Feels good hm?”

“ ‘ts too much…! I don’t ‘hink I can keep going… Please!”, your fingers wander and dance around the sheets looking for comfort. He grasps your hands with his own and presses both hands against the bed sheets.

“You know we’re not done yet, love. Just keep being good for me”

—————————————

“WHY SO LATE INTO KINKTOBER??”

sorry loll i’m making up for the days I missed dont worry :3

GUYS ALSO PLEASEE SEND REQS OR IM GONNA DIEEEE PLEASE.

[swagmagussupreme]

@whiterose-fans-blog White Rose in Bloom, Day 4: Dragon AU

(I, uh... got a little carried away again. I honestly wanted to do Ruby as the dragon but I just didn't. by the time i remembered i wanted to do that i already had a flow, so... c'est la vie.)

Not any content warnings I can think of. Suggestive if you find the vague, unelaborated presence of nakedness suggestive. Not edited because I wrote way too much so fuck it we're doing it live.

Words: 6388

Of all times for Ruby Rose to twist her ankle, this was probably the least opportune. 

She tumbled over like a stack of bricks, spilling a decade's worth of knowledge as her satchel burst its contents over the floor. Her journals, her charcoals, her bottled paints— even her ink pot shattered loudly, splattering black against stone. Ruby's chest seized as if her ribcage were trying to throttle it, but she held herself completely still. A loud, waking breath rattled the darkness.

“Oh, an in-trud-er,” the thing within mused, its syllables breaking like each one was its own word, a tongue unused to speaking. “Or a… gue-ssssss-t. Gue-ss-ss-sstuh.” The tongue clicked impatiently. “Gue-sst. Closssse e-nough.”

Ruby hunkered low, as low as she physically could, and tried to ignore the throbbing pain in her ankle. She held her breath.

“Be sssssssss-till thy bea-ting heaaaaaar-tuh.” The voice was closer now. Ruby could see a glimmer in the dark, a pearlescent reflection of nonexistent light. “I can heeeeeear the ter-ror in your chesssss-tuh.”

Ruby willed her heart to stop. It did not.

“Ugh, you peo-ple real-ly sssssss-peak like thi-sssssss-suh?”

The glimmer was brighter. A white-blue glow swayed in the darkness— one, then two, then three pairs of eyes making themselves known. Ruby felt them.

“I can sssss-see you, you know.”

Ruby shot up and waved her hands out, thrusting a light spell from her palms to blind the dark-dwelling beast, just long enough that—

A wire-thin beam of ice-colored light struck her palm directly. Ruby's spell vanished into impotence. 

“Casssssss-ting in my lair?” it rumbled. “How… un-couuuuuut-tuh.”

Ruby jumped at the opportunity. “Uncouth! Th-uh! With your tongue against your top teeth, passing the air between them!”

The cavern was suddenly bathed in cold light, and Ruby could finally see it. A dragon. A real, honest-to-Oum dragon. Not a drake, not a wyrm, not some other dumb lizard she'd been pointlessly tracking for weeks— a real, genuine, intelligent dragon. Pearlescent, slender-bodied, four-legged, with two major wings like giant, smooth sails and two minor wings situated closer to the posterior. Its pale scales were shaped like heater shields and shone like mother-of-pearl. Its claws were white, blue-tipped. Its tail was long and ended with a flare of its cyan crest, which ran up its spine before ending just above the major wings. Its head was long and triangular, serpentine, and menaced down at Ruby with six incredible, glacial eyes. It licked its dual rows of teeth with a forked turquoise tongue.

And now it couldn't even kill her! Ha! “Hahaha!” Ruby laughed despite herself. “Now you can't kill me! I've imparted value through knowledge! I'm protected!”

The dragon bent its huge neck down, each eye focusing on a different object that Ruby had spilled. Its throat rumbled pensively, unbothered. One of its eyes glowed, lifting Ruby's journal to with a magic the researcher had never witnessed. It flipped through pages and hummed. “A… ssssss-scribe, you are. Quite pro-liss-ic.”

“Prolific?”

Five of its eyes locked onto her at once, its other eye still reading through her recordings. “You are bol-duh.” It waved a claw to a wall, indicating a crumpled old skeleton in timeworn clothes from a whole other period. “He was, too.”

“But I am protected!” Ruby claimed, confidently puffing her chest and raising her chin.

The dragon snorted. “As a part of my hoard, yes,” the head bent even closer, now focusing on Ruby with all six eyes. “Or did you not know?”

Ruby reached out and touched its smooth, cool snout. It smelled like a blizzard. It was real, it was here, her life's work— she could touch it! Ruby smiled. “That's perfect,” she said truthfully. “It's perfect! I came to study you anyways!”

The dragon reeled. “What?”

Ruby smirked at it. “Don't be coy, you saw my research. I've been looking for you my whole life! A dragon! God!”

Its eyes flickered curiously. Five picked up her other books and rapidly flicked through, leaving one icy eye to keep locked onto her. “You are sssss-some… sssss-ser-pent ssss-cho-lar?”

The serpent scholar nodded fervently. “Yes! And you are my dream come true!”

The dragon’s body pitched back onto its haunches, then it laid down flat on its stomach. It kept one eye on her, gradually getting more to lock onto the human as it finished reading her works. “I own you now, you real-li-zzzzzzz-zuh. 

Ruby extended a hand towards it. “Then introductions are in order! I'm—”

“Rrrrru-by Roooooo-suh,” the dragon interrupted. “I did just read your book-ssssssuh.”

Unperturbed, the scholar kept her hand out. “And yourself?”

The dragon's craw twitched, a hum arising— a display of amusement, Ruby decided, which she would take note of when she had a chance. “I am the ssssss-soul of the win-ter. I am the crack of the fro-zen lake ‘neath your feet. I am the drift of sssss-snow upon sssss-snow. I am the ruin of your crop, the frosssss-st upon your ssssss-skin, the fin-al bursssss-st of flame be-fore you die in. The. Cold.”

Ruby blinked. “Is… that a name?”

The dragon huffed. “Your feeble tongue cannot grassssss-sp my title.”

“Oh. Could I hear it anyways?”

The dragon stared at her for a long time, its freezing eyes impaling her, but Ruby did not buckle. She seemed perfectly content. “You are mine, now,” the dragon mused. “Ssssso, you will need the ca-pa-ci-ty to… un-der-sssssss-stand.”

Ruby cocked her head. “Uh, do I? You're not just going to stare at me all day? I'm pretty.”

A rough chuckle shook the walls of the dragon’s grand, cavernous lair. “You are my sssssss-scribe, now. You will pen my glo-ry, and I will ssssss-suf-fer thissssss aw-ful ton-gue no more.” One huge hand slowly moved towards Ruby. “Ssssss-stay sssssss-still.”

Ruby held herself rigid, calcifying her resolve with the knowledge that this creature was compelled not to kill her. The claws reached her face, went down, and traced the skin of her throat. They were sharper than something so large should be, opening more than one shallow nick that had Ruby hissing, but true panic set in when they pinched around her trachea. With barely a twitch, with a sneeze, this dragon could sever her windpipe. 

The claws pinched up and down, feeling the area until they stopped at her larynx. “There it isssssss-suh.”

A piercing chill lanced through Ruby’s throat, freezing her insides, the frost traveling down her spine, then back up her tailbone and up to her brain, wracking her with the worst brain-freeze she had ever experienced. She couldn't stop herself from rocking back, whining. “Ow! You—”

Ruby stiffened, her hands stilling on her temples, her pain fading into glorious epiphany.

“You! You, you, you!” she cheered, feeling her tongue and her mouth and her teeth, rejoicing as her throat dipped and bobbed in ways it never had. She wasn't speaking the language she'd been born with, but it felt like she'd been speaking this way her whole life— with clicks of her tongue and her teeth, with hisses and groans, with throaty enunciations that rumbled her bones— dragon-tongue! She was speaking dragon-tongue!

“How have you done this!” she asked stupidly. “Magic, obviously, but none I've ever seen! None I've ever even read, and I'm pretty well-read for a scribe of snakes and drakes!”

The dragon’s six eyes became smug crescents. “I’m three thousand years old, Ruby. What the stones have forgotten, I remember.”

Ruby snorted. “Well, stones can be older than that.”

“Sure, but they have terrible memories.”

“Was that a joke?”

The dragon hummed, which was a sound that Ruby now heard in tones she'd never heard before, extracting more meaning from the simple vocalization. Amusement, obviously, but also… pleasure. Satisfaction— no, relief. Almost a… a wholeness. A bitter memory of the solemn, silent dark. How could a single sound communicate such a myriad? 

She had so much to learn.

--

The dragon's name was Weiss. It had been stubborn in providing that much for a fair few hours before Ruby had whittled down its resolve— it said she wouldn't comprehend its name, that her brain was too molded to human-speak to form the syllables, but she proved it embarrassingly wrong when she laughed, repeating it with ease in either language. 

Weiss had been keeping her in the cavernous chamber with the rest of its hoard. The room was a giant sanctum of towering walls, each one carved with deep trenches and brimming with tomes, scrolls, and loose parchment. The walls were taller than Ruby could ever hope to reach— she'd exhaust herself trying to climb them— unless Weiss opted to give her a ride. The dragon hadn't reacted too keenly to that notion.

The dragon was polite enough to leave motes of light hanging along the walls and ceiling, leaving lit the modest pile of standard dragon-treasure at the room’s far end. Silver and platinum in coins, bars, goblets, and most other forms of such riches. It wasn't the towering pile of gold that Ruby had read and seen depicted in legends, but it was just large enough to be stacked taller than she was. Ruby looked around.

“Weiss!” she called, her voice echoing across the sanctum’s clawed stone walls. “Weiss, come here! I need something!”

“You do not need to yell,” Weiss responded, its voice somewhere deep in the lair. “What could you possibly need?”

“For you to come here!” Ruby demanded, stomping her foot.

“You are my thing, Roseling. Make no demands of me.”

“I am demanding you to get over here whether you like it or not!”

There was a palpable pause. Weiss’ slender head rounded into the sanctum shortly thereafter. The dragon stared, its six eyes gleaming under the magical lights. It said nothing.

Ruby marched to it sternly and turned up her nose. As much as she could, at least, which had very little effect because she had to crane her neck up at Weiss anyways. “I'm a human, Weiss,” she claimed. “I have needs.”

Weiss blinked two of its eyes and let out a suffersome sigh. “You have food.”

“No, I don't.”

Weiss pointed to the back of the room, towards the hoard of precious metal. “Yes, you do.”

Ruby followed its claw, then turned back to Weiss, stupefied. “I— wha— you eat silver?”

“Silver is food, yes,” the dragon replied obviously. “What, your first feeding? Mortals…”

“I can't eat silver!”

Weiss reeled genuinely. “You… yes you can,” it claimed. “Who doesn't?”

Ruby raised her arms in a broad gesture. “Everyone! Nobody eats metal! We eat things like meat and vegetables! Dragons actually  eat their hoard?”

Weiss blinked again, this time with the four eyes it hadn't blinked before. “What? I cannot eat knowledge.”

“The coins aren't part of your hoard?”

Weiss shook its head. “Why would they be? Your petty human riches mean nothing to me. True wealth is knowing.”

Ruby gave the dragon an impressed frown, and added that to the list of things she needed to take note of. “I can agree with that. Why’re the riches in here, then?”

Weiss shook her head like a wet-but-lazy dog, which Ruby understood as something shrug-adjacent. “I like to have a snack while I read.”

A smile shot over Ruby’s lips. “Oh, me too! Can't feed the brain without feeding the body!”

The dragon nodded at her sage wisdom, but seemed to catch itself halfway through agreeing with a mortal. “Hmph. Well, how can we get you food?”

“You can't just…” Ruby wiggled her hands in the air. “Magick some up?”

The dragon rolled all six of its eyes, which was apparently a universal gesture. “No, Roseling. I cannot just ‘magick up’ something nutritious from nothing, unless you would find meat-shaped rocks palatable.” It let out a long, disappointed sigh. “Oh well, I suppose you'll starve, then.”

 Weiss started to turn, but Ruby sprinted to grab at its swaying tail on the way out, hoping to stop the dragon. That didn't work, and only ended with Ruby flailing around on the end of that long, articulate limb, screaming herself senseless while Weiss dutifully ignored her.

“Weiss!” she cried. “Weiss, feed me! Please! You're compelled not to kill me, I'll die if I don't eat!”

“Not killing you and letting you die are two very different things, Roseling.”

“Stop calling me that! Also, feed me!”

“No.”

“Please!”

The dragon stopped, nearly throwing Ruby from its tail as its momentum was arrested. Its long neck craned around, showing a hungry grin as it brought its head to Ruby. “What was that?”

The scholar gulped. “Feed me.”

The dragon stared expectantly, its incandescent eyes wide.

“Please.”

Weiss’ lips rose smugly, its tongue lashing the backs of its teeth like it was about to verbally flay and/or devour Ruby Rose, but it set the scholar down without doing either. “Good,” it rumbled. “You're humbled, as you should be. For your humility, I will hear out whatever proposal you have for getting you fed, however stupid it will be. You appreciate my magnanimity, I'm sure.”

Ruby scowled. “I can't hunt.”

“Surely not.”

“Does anything grow here?”

The dragon shifted its jaw in thought. “Mushrooms and lichen, sometimes— if I haven't scoured it in a long while. The books would moulder if not for the stasis enchantment I placed on that room.”

“Stasis?”

“Anti-decay. Perpetuation,” Weiss explained casually, as if it weren't making Ruby's mind explode. “That sort of thing.”

“You can stop things from rotting?” Ruby asked excitedly. “That's incredible! Weiss, that kind of magic could change the world, that could save villages, cities, nations!”

Weiss shook its head dismissively again. “Of course it could. I made it, after all.”

“You crafted the spell?” Ruby squeaked. “That's— that's incredible! You're incredible! Weiss, that is insane!”

The dragon bared its teeth in smug amusement. “I am incredible. You can finally see that.”

“I— I've been seeing that this whole time! You're a dragon!”

Weiss chortled. “Are you not hungry anymore?”

Ruby froze. “I— of course I am! Take me to town! Please.”

The dragon leaned closer and took a deep breath, sucking enough air into its nostrils to pull at Ruby's robes. “To town? You want me to take you to town?” The dragon let out an avalanche of laughter. “Sure, Roseling. I will fly you there on my back. We’ll be greeted with open arms, certainly.”

“Obviously not,” Ruby complained with a snort, as if she were in on the dragon’s joke and about to add to it. “Just teleport us there and turn into a human.”

Weiss laughed again, uproariously, loud enough to shake the walls and make Ruby cover her ears. “Aha! Hahaha! You, my Roseling, are the third funniest thing in my entire hoard.”

Ruby blushed at being addressed like that, for some indiscernible reason. “Third?”

“Behind the last good human joke-book and the personal diary of Salem Luminarius.”

Ruby laughed. “What would be so funny about a lich’s diary?”

“Her glyphwork. Her runes are scrawled like a blind child did them, they're hilariously awful. They'd barely hold a charge of anything— that's why her phylactery died a couple centuries ago. It just leaked her entire soul into the aether!” Weiss giggled in a way unbecoming of itself. “Embarrassing!”

Weiss was actually taken fully by that wave of mirth, closing all of its eyes tight as it laughed and laughed. When they opened again, they found Ruby, sickly pale and looking very close to vomiting. 

Ruby’s pink lips flapped. “You… you actually… you have her phylactery?”

Weiss nodded. “And her journal.”

“You… how…”

Weiss opened its mouth.

“N-no!’ Ruby denied, deflating with a look of distant horror. “No. I don't want to know. Just teleport us to town.”

“That is not funny the second time.”

“Huh?”

“You heard me,” the dragon stated. “If you are insistent on telling jokes, refer to my joke-book first. It is the funniest thing your people will ever produce.”

Ruby, surprising herself, was not at all shocked to hear the joke-book was apparently real, too. “I'm not joking. Weiss, you can teleport, right?”

Weiss threw its head aside petulantly. “I certainly could, if it were possible. I am too large for a teleportation circle.”

Ruby blinked hard, reeling, her head shaking with confusion. “T— teleportation circle?” She barked a laugh. “What is this, the Age of Fae? Nobody uses a circle anymore. Do you really not—”

Weiss suddenly threw its head forwards, flinging Ruby back to the ground with a huff. “Have respect for your owner, Roseling. Of course I know what you're talking about, I just… am cursed not to travel that way.”

Ankle still smarting, Ruby winced and got back to her feet. “Curses can't bind you like that.”

The dragon huffed. “This one does.”

“I can show you, you know.”

Weiss’ whole, massive head snapped towards Ruby like a cracking whip, displacing enough air to blow her charcoal robes back. “You will.”

Ruby felt her chest heave towards the dragon, her thoughts lurching in tandem, her whole being desperate to follow Weiss’ compulsion. With tangible effort and a burning pain in her chest, Ruby bit down on that feeling. “Not unless you promise to come with,” she defied through gritted teeth. “In human form.”

“I don't have a human form,” Weiss hissed.

Ruby seethed, resisting herself. “Then figure it out!”

Weiss growled. It snarled, and it was an awful sound, one that awoke goose-pimples along Ruby’s skin and had her shivering instinctively, but she held her ground. Weiss kept snarling, closing the distance, opening her maw to break the unruly scholar with fear. 

Ruby remained resolute.

Weiss, physically unable to kill the human, huffed. “Fine. I don't care. Show me the magic.”

Ruby's silver eyes glimmered with resolve. “Change first, that way I can trust you.”

Surprising Ruby, the massive dragon flinched before her. “You… do not trust me?”

It sounded genuinely hurt, which made Ruby cock her head. “No? Why would I? I don't know you that well. You're an incredible thing, yes, but humans don't really trust like that.”

Weiss flinched again. “I am not a thing. I am a dragon. We do not have such… human predilections towards trickery.”

“And what about the thing about teleportation, huh?” Ruby probed. “You lied about your ability, you have no idea how to do it.”

The dragon squirmed. “I… did not lie, I… I was confident in… in…” A word bubbled in its throat, an ugly one, one which looked like it physically hurt on the way out. “My ignorance.”

Ruby watched the dragon slump with defeat. Her own heart fell, and she was pretty sure that was on her own accord, not some emotional compulsion for sympathy. She limped to the dragon and laid a hand on its heel. The scales were cool to the touch. “Uh… sorry, Weiss. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings.”

“I am a dragon! A petty human like you could never hurt my feelings!” Weiss whined, its pitch and wavering tone displaying obvious hurt, self-pity, and shame. “Be silent!”

“I didn't—”

“Silence!”

Ruby went silent. She kept her hand on the dragon. It was either too big to feel her or it didn't care.

When Weiss spoke up again, its voice was hoarse with defeat. “I… give me a moment. And stay still, Roseling. I need an impression of your form if I'm to construct my own.”

Ruby remained silent, and did not move. She kept her hand where it was until the dragon moved, turning wholly around to lie back down in front of her. Weiss’ head bent low, all six eyes affixed to her scholar.

“I… own you, human,” it said unsurely, as if trying to convince itself rather than Ruby. The scholar bowed politely, pitying the dragon.

“Of course. Thank you.”

“Don't speak.”

“Of course.”

Weiss growled.

Ruby giggled. “Sorry, sorry. I’ll be quiet.”

The dragon harrumphed, and waited for its scholar’s giggles to properly subside before it moved. It dragged its great front claws towards her, both hands cupping into a halo around Ruby’s body. All six eyes glowed blue, flashed white, then closed. A warbling blueness overcame the scholar. Her body rang like a tuning fork.

“An impressive lineage, Roseling,” the dragon mused lowly, its eyes still closed. “Yet your own aptitude is… middling, at best.”

Ruby shifted, laughing awkwardly. “Uh… y-yeah, uh…”

“Be silent.”

Ruby buttoned her lips. 

The dragon’s lids twitched, and Ruby’s chest became a void. “Oh. I see.”

The claws separated, freeing Ruby from their encirclement. Weiss’ eyes opened, glaring down at the human, spears of gleaming ice that hooked into her ribs.

“And when exactly did you plan on telling me that you had that… thing in your chest?”

Weiss’ words were slow and careful, but edged to the point of danger. Ruby winced. 

“Did you think you could sneak into my lair and snip a piece from my claw? Did you hope to make a wish on it? Did you think you could siphon my blood without me noticing, that you could concoct some cure?”

“No!” Ruby answered frantically, splaying her hands out wide. “I never believed any of that stuff, I just…”

Ruby's arms sagged to her sides. Weiss watched, waited, its six eyes unblinking.

“I've always loved dragons. I've heard so much— everyone said they were extinct— but I knew I could find one. You. All the signs were there, but nobody knew to look for them, nobody could remember your… intelligence. All the legends were just ‘big, scary lizard, breathes fire, eats people—’”

“Eugh, as if I’d eat one of you—”

“But I knew!” Ruby declared, suddenly loud, thumping her chest and wincing every time. Her mouth stayed open for something louder, something definitive, but it died in her throat, and it's weight dragged her down with it. “Nobody really believed me. Nobody cared about my study. I've got…” she laughed mirthlessly, cruelly. “I've got two books just on… geckos. It's useless. It's embarrassing.”

Weiss opened its mouth, but Ruby raised her hand to interrupt. Surprisingly, it obliged.

“But I knew. I just wanted to see if I was right, before I…” Ruby rolled her shoulders uncomfortably, then scratched at her chest. “I don't have much time left. I can feel it.”

Weiss rumbled low. Doleful. Angry. Possessive. “Show me the construct.”

Ruby flushed red and backed away in a panic, hands clutching her robes tightly over her chest. “I— I can't do that! That's—”

The dragon huffed. “Show me before I compel you to show me.”

Ruby stuck up her chin, defiant. “I resisted it once.”

“You will not manage again.”

The scholar stared those six eyes down, summoning all her human courage to stand tall against the beast. She willed herself to resist. She willed herself to be strong.

Weiss gave her a slow, unimpressed blink, and compelled her scholar.

Ruby undid the pins of her robes and folded open the front, scowling as she bent obediently to the dragon's will. Her blush traveled down her collar, splotching red over her neck, then visibly over her chest as she exposed the construct.

Ruby Rose's heart was in a tube of brass. Ruby Rose’s heart was a golem core, a multicolored gemstone buzzing and whirring with silvery wisps of arcane energy. Ruby Rose's heart was covered in cracks. 

Crimson energy seeped from every rift in the core, brightly illuminating each split in the gemstone. Ruby turned away, unable to cover herself again. Weiss craned closer.

“Blood of Oum,” the dragon cursed, it's eyes fixed solely on the construct. “You made this?”

Ruby grit her teeth. “We're not as predisposed to trickery as you think.”

“Evidently. And how much of your heart remained by the time you finished the work?”

The scholar grimaced so hard she feared her cheeks would rip. “Half.”

Weiss stared for a moment longer before dropping the compulsion. Ruby immediately pinned her robes back in place, her face the color of her namesake. “On your deathbed— no, halfway in your grave.”

“Stop talking about it.”

“Stop talking about it?” the dragon parroted, aghast. “How could I ever! Ruby, you are a font! You are a singular talent! This thing you've done— and with the noose of the heavens already around your neck— it is incomparable! I would trade you for half— more than half of my hoard! And now—”

“I'm already in your hoard, Weiss.”

The dragon jolted back and shook its head, blinking hard. Its eyes narrowed. Its nostrils twitched. 

Ruby watched as Weiss brought its claws up again, blue-white energy snapping between each one for only a moment before they clapped together, creating a blinding, deafening flash that sent the scholar to the floor. She belatedly threw a hand over her face and scrubbed at her eyes, blinking the colorful spots from her sight. Her ears rang.

Ruby’s vision cleared after a moment. Weiss was before her. A human, skinny and short, with skin the same shining, pearly whiteness as the waist-length hair. Weiss’ eyes were still blue on black sclera, now with two major eyes and two pairs of tiny ones clustered at the outside corners of their larger twins. She was also naked. She was also a ‘she’.

Ruby, coming from such an emotional lowpoint to this, floundered. “You're a girl!”

Weiss looked down at herself, her slender hands feeling up her own sides. “I thought I was a human.”

“A female human!” Ruby shrieked, hiding her eyes behind her hands, then spreading her finger so she could look anyways. “A girl!”

“Is that what this is?” Weiss started feeling at her own face, pulling her ears, tweaking her nose, tugging her lips. “Why are you humans so… flappy.”

“You have six eyes!”

Weiss blinked at her obviously.

“Still!”

“Of course I do,” she stated, her human voice high and pitchy— noble, some would probably say. “These aren't natural, you know. I added them, and they're not as malleable as the rest of me.”

“But— but you're a girl!”

The human that was now Weiss pointed accusingly at her scholar. “Don't act so perturbed, I got it from you!” In a very human gesture, she crossed her arms and turned away, chin held imperiously high. “And I happen to like it.”

“Well, you need clothes!” Ruby whined. “Cover yourself, it's rude!”

“Why would I cover this?” Weiss asked, gesturing over herself confidently. “I am a perfect specimen of humanity. Your people will be delighted to see me.”

Ruby, unfortunately, agreed with that notion. That people would like to see her, that is. Creepy people. Not Ruby. She did not like seeing Weiss, which was why she had her hand over her face. She was only peeping through her fingers to make sure nothing was wrong. “Some will, then they'll throw you out for indecency! Or arrest you! Then execute you!”

Weiss snorted. “I'd like to see them try.”

“Just put on some damn clothes! Please!”

The now-human dragon waved her off. “Fine, fine,” she muttered, her hands flashing together again, much less blindingly this time. “Better?”

Ruby observed the human Weiss before her, taking in the outfit. She wore almost an exact copy of Ruby's robes— pinned close to the torso, but loose around the arms and waist— only her collar was pinned scandalously open, exposing the milky skin of her neckline and the shading of her pronounced collarbone. In addition, the whole thing seemed to be made of silk rather than Ruby's linen, which baffled the scholar. “Where'd you get that?”

“I made it,” Weiss answered casually. “Vellum and parchment transmute easily to silk. From there I just made what you have, only better.”

Ruby sniffed at ‘better’, but said nothing to oppose it. “Well… it’s good. Cover your chest, though.”

Weiss puffed her chest out in petulant riposte, which made Ruby turn away. “I will not, what I have is plenty.” She approached the scholar aggressively, stomping hard with her shoulders set in a way that didn’t match the easy expression on her face— consequences of going from dragon to human, Ruby supposed. “Now show me your teleportation.”

--

Showing Weiss the trick to teleportation without a circle mostly consisted of Ruby explaining, then having the experience of watching Weiss’ face cascade into a series of ‘it was so obvious, how did you idiots find that out’ expressions. It was very fun to watch until Ruby realized she was openly staring at Weiss’ face.

Thankfully, the dragon in human skin hadn’t noticed (or hadn’t cared), and teleported them both before Ruby even finished her explanation, dropping the both of them in the central square of the closest city: Vale.

Bustling crowds stopped, looked at them for half a second, then went about their day.

“W-Weiss!” Ruby panicked, grabbing the other girl and hiding her face with her robe’s sleeve. “Hide your eyes, people will freak out!”

Weiss smirked up at her. “Oh please,” she said in Ruby’s mother-tongue. “My magical eyes wouldn’t be nearly as strange as you openly speaking Draconic.” She frowned at herself. “Ugh, Dra-co-nic? That’s really what you people call it? So unimaginative.”

Ruby had to consciously search for her own language, speaking like a dragon just felt so natural now, as if she’d been speaking it for years. “Shut up,” she managed, emboldened by the fact Weiss was no longer several storeys taller than her. “People will notice.”

Weiss pushed the scholar’s arm down and motioned to the people around them, none of whom even turned. “Nobody cares, Ruby. And if they do, what I have isn’t any stranger than what you have.”

That was delivered with a bitterness that made Ruby recoil— not directed at her, but somewhere close enough that it still hurt. Nonetheless, she protested, “Well I don’t go around flaunting my chest, unlike some people!”

“Nobody is looking! Nobody cares!” Weiss darted to the nearest stall— a fruit stand— and leaned over the display to jeer at the man inside. “Hello! Hello, human! Look at my chest! My flesh is bared in this specific region! ARE YOU TANTALIZED?” 

Ruby yanked her away by the collar of her robes, dragging her fully out of the square while Weiss held a smug, satisfied grin. Ruby, on the other hand, was burning crimson. “Weiss! Act normal! I’m human, I’ve been living as one my whole life, so please have some tact and listen!”

Weiss opened her mouth, but clapped it shut at the authority the scholar wielded through her raised brows. When it was clear she would defer to her, Ruby sighed in relief.

“Thank you. Now, all we have to do is grab some food and some other essentials you can’t transmute— I would assume you can turn the trees surrounding your lair into wooden furniture, right?”

Weiss cocked her head. Ruby pointed to a nearby bench.

“Furniture. Chairs, beds, things like that. For my accommodations.”

“Accommodations? Who said I was accommodating you? You’re my property.”

Ruby rolled her lambent grey eyes. “Because you’re nice and a magnanimous master of your hoard,” she said, deadpan and blatantly sarcastic. “And because I’m dying. Let my last slumber be on a bed.”

Weiss’ whole body went rigid, her eyes locking to Ruby’s. She visibly bit the insides of her cheeks. “Right,” she mumbled through her teeth. “We will get you some food.”

The scholar nodded. With a plan made, Weiss reluctantly followed Ruby along the disorganized streets of Vale, scowling with disgust but nonetheless paying rapt attention whenever they passed someone in the middle of a human bodily function. At one point, Weiss had the opportunity to witness a back-alley robbery, but Ruby stopped her by wrapping their hands together to keep pulling her along.

Weiss stared at the hand in hers, and was shocked by how warm it was. It made her realize how cold she was. She could feel her own temperature wherever Ruby touched. The red-hot fingers were like a light in the dark, shone directly into the eyes of someone who’d never seen light before, blinding, but impossible to turn away from. Without scales, she could feel them in a way she’d never felt anything before— softly. Skin-on-skin, hot against cold. Curious, Weiss clasped her own fingers around Ruby’s, squeezing them tightly. There was a little give before she could feel the bone structure. The flesh was warm. The palms were soft in some places, rough in others, which Weiss felt at by rubbing her thumb between their interlocked hands.

Ruby stopped after a while. Weiss noted the rush of red beneath her face. The scholar slipped her hand out of Weiss’ with a conflicted look that was unrecognizable. She had found a cart with an oven on it, and spoke to the fellow manning it. When she turned back to Weiss and spoke, the once-dragon jumped.

“S-sorry, what?” Weiss said, shaking her head hard at her own apology. “I mean, what do you want?”

That strange look passed over Ruby’s face again, this time with an edge of something that Weiss assumed to be guilt. “I, uh, don’t have money,” the scholar admitted.

Weiss raised her hands uncomprehendingly. “Okay?”

Ruby led her with a nod of her head. “You don’t have any?”

“Did you see me conjure any with this robe?” Weiss mocked, wiggling her large, drooping sleeve. “No? Well, there’s your answer. Dolt.”

Ruby’s voice became hot and hushed. “I already ordered, we have to pay somehow!”

“We? The food is yours! It’s your responsibility!”

“And I’m your property, so the real responsibility lies on you!”

Weiss growled. “I. Don’t. Have. Any!”

“Summon some!”

“That’s not how anything works!”

“Figure something—”

“Pies’re done!” the oven-cart man announced, pulling a pair of steaming round things out of the mobile furnace. “Ladies! And if ya don’t mind me askin’, what sort’a strange speak’re you two doin’?”

Weiss and Ruby looked at the man, then at each other, both equally unaware of how their languages had switched. Ruby looked into her eyes and, as seemed to be her wont of late, went red. Weiss felt her own face warm.

With a flick of one dainty wrist, Weiss beamed the food-man right between the eyes with a ice-colored ray of magic. “F-free,” she commanded, stuttering a little for some reason. “They’re free. For us. Thank you. Rubytakethem.”

Ruby, with only a brief look of horror towards the dragon who was now a human, dashed over to the food-man and took the pies. She yelped the moment she scooped them up, but managed to drop them onto a nearby public table before she developed burns. Ruby sighed.

“Sit down,” she told Weiss, nodding to the seat across from her.

Weiss took the seat beside her instead. Ruby gulped and focused on her own steaming food thing. “What is that?” Weiss asked, leaning close to her scholar.

Ruby stiffened again. “Meat pie. Pie crust, pie stuff,” she claimed, motioning to the bread-colored parts of the ‘meat pie’. “The meat’s inside.”

Weiss bent further down to smell Ruby’s pie, doing so in a way that got as much of her body to touch Ruby’s as possible. The girl was warm, and she was cold. “It smells nice.”

Ruby turned away and coughed, pushing her other pie to Weiss. “Eat it,” she said quickly, as if saying it slower would make her stutter.

“Huh? No. That sounds… ew.”

Ruby kept her face turned away, but glared at Weiss with one eye. “You’ll make me spend one of my last meals alone? Here I thought dragons had honor.”

Weiss instantly soured. “Stop saying that.”

“Why?”

Weiss stared down at her meat pie. After a moment of deliberation, she started shoveling chunks of it into her mouth with her hands. Ruby made a noise of horror, but she ignored the scholar. She ate. The food tasted like taste. She’d never tasted before.

She’d also never been a human before. She’d never had a reason to be one, cramming her glorious body into this form would only make her library more difficult to fully access, and she’d have to deal with being a human. She’d have human hands that burned when she shoved them into a meat pie, though it wasn’t the same kind of burn she got from Ruby’s hands. Ruby’s hands burned in a new way. Did the construct make her hotter? Or was it just Weiss?

She’d never had one human heart beating in her chest. Always four, easier to pump blood with, but this singular thing was… odd. More vulnerable. If one of her own hearts got destroyed, she still had three left; that’d give her enough time to reconstruct the fourth.

But having just one was awful. She felt small with it. She felt like someone would come up behind her and stab it, and the three thousand years of Weiss would splatter all over her meat pie. The idea made her chest tight. She ate burning food so she wouldn’t notice. It didn’t help much.

Ruby had zero hearts, and yet her body wasn’t coiled in the way Weiss’ was. Sure, she was throwing herself at the now-human in an attempt to stop her from shoving more meat pie in her face, but she didn’t have an inherent tightness. She seemed free. Loose. Like she’d done the one thing she wanted, which, Weiss realized, was probably accurate. Meeting her. She’d only wanted to catch a glimpse to die happy, and she was dying. Weiss had seen that much with her own eyes, with her own magic. Sure, she didn’t seem bad now, but such was the nature of golem cores. Ruby Rose would operate as-normal until the moment it ran out, then she would die all at once. The girl who had built a heart, outpacing her own dying one, would lose to that beating death-knell in the end. Weiss would have her books, but the world would forget Ruby’s knowledge. 

The one heart was doing something to Weiss. Something bad. It beat its tha-thump, tha-thump tempo one note at a time, which made it all the more strange when Ruby’s warmth sped it up. The one thing in her chest twisted. It wrenched. It was afraid. It was angry.

Like anything else in her hoard, Ruby was hers. Nothing would take that away. Not if Weiss could help it.

[seriousbrat]

im asking this because you made a james one but can you make a jily meta if you have time🙈🙈

Anon I'm sorry for the delay in replying, I was thinking it through!! But it's nice to have something positive to talk about haha.

The loves of my life tbh. I really really like jily even though I think my snapeishness means I'm not as involved in mainstream jily fandom. I mean enemies to lovers always has its appeal and to me james and lily are a realistic, imperfect- but all the more compelling for it- appealing dynamic.

Obviously we don't get to see a lot of their actual relationship in canon, but I think that's why it's so fun to fill in the blanks. Personally I think it's pretty normal that they were drawn to each other and ended up in a relationship from what we know- they're both pretty big personalities, intelligent and charming and brave, they have similar goals and beliefs about the world, there was attraction early on (obviously in james's case, more or less confirmed by jkr in lily's- and b4 anyone starts in on lily for being attracted to him that's not something one can control, and she probs wasn't aware anyway).

Lily basically hated his guts, with good reason, so to go from that to dating there had to be a pretty big shift in both james and in their relationship (and likely lily too, or that's my belief). Honestly what I think is that in their final years at Hogwarts, the encroaching war brought on this new seriousness, and as lines were more clearly drawn in the sand it became obvious that lily and the marauders were on the same side of it. Things like sports, popularity, rivalries cease to matter in the face of a life-or-death conflict, you're forced to grow up and deal with it, and while for Severus this brought out the worst in him, for James it brought out the best.

People talk about James changing but I think a post SWM-lily was also changing. She set a very clear boundary with Sev and I think that was an important character development moment for her. Again, the war was on the horizon, their priorities were becoming clear, and I see Lily as becoming more sure of herself and her beliefs, less tolerant of bullshit from those around her. James was becoming more circumspect, more open-minded, more responsible, so when lily and the marauders were thrown together in natural alliance the two of them were just at a point where they were compatible.

I don't think their relationship was perfect and idyllic and all that, that would be less interesting anyway. It was probably hard sometimes. One thing I love when fics explore is the class differences between James and Lily; not only is he pureblood while she's muggleborn, but he comes from wealth where she comes from a humble little working-class family in the mids. There was probably a lot of stuff James didn't understand about her life; I feel like he probably tried his best anyway. Lily probably felt intimidated or defensive about her own background at times.

I don't doubt that they argued; in fact they got off on it probably enjoyed arguing with each other, given their personalities. Both of them were intelligent, opinionated, had an arguing kink, fiery people. Like I don't think it was this exaggerated screaming match sort of thing but I'm sure they loved a healthy spirited debate which maybe got a little out of hand sometimes.

I have touched on this previously but I see James as deep down pretty insecure (who isnt in this world apart from sirius black) and I think initially he was probably pretty insecure about Lily too. I do see him regretting his previous behaviour and thinking he isn't good enough for her and that he's incredibly lucky to be with her. which is true and he should suffer. but I have an upcoming scene (lily's first time at the potters') where james is like "i feel like i'm not good enough for you" and lily's like "shut up i'm the one who's not good enough for you" and they're like "great. i guess we're not good enough for each other. sorted i guess." My point being James actively tried to be a better man, Lily saw that and admired it. because she's good and wonderful like that.

Idk I guess I see it kind of as a realistic, flawed, but ultimately loving relationship. I'm sure there was a lot of stuff they had to work on over the few years they got :( but I'm also sure they had a lot of fun together because to me they just seem really compatible in so many ways as humans.

My belief is that they got married quickly because of the war (I also believe this about frank and alice, even though i see them as older) but it's likely they would have ended up married anyway, or at least in a long term, healthy, happy relationship.

Also the pottermore entry about Vernon and Petunia is my absolute fave for many reasons (love the vertunia of it all ofc) but also the little snippet about jily is golden. The double date between vertunia and jily is perhaps one of my favourite scenes I've ever written haha it's just such a good moment, basically the only canon info we do get about while they were dating.

[venusorbits]

DOUBLE TAKE | CHAPTER ONE

pairing ; cho gue sung ( 조규성 ) x female! supermodel! british-asian! reader

summary ; You have been invited once again to the Korean TV programme 'I Live Alone' alongside the World Cup Heartthrob, Cho Gue Sung ( 조규성 ). Simple guests, who had to take double takes from each other, who could have seen it coming? No one was. Certainly, neither were the both of you.

genre ; romance, fluff, established relationship ( by second chapter cause i hate writing slow burn, i like reading them though ), angst.

masterlist

❝if you've got a girlfriend, i'm jealous of her. but if you're single that's honestly worse 'cause you're gorgeous it actually hurts.❞

You began your stardom career at the mere age of 17 years after an agent saw your photos posted through social media. The said photo was the cause of the tumbling domino effect, igniting and bursting into bold bright orange flames, into dipping your toes into the window of opportunity and universe of high fashion, colourful red carpets and long hallways of runways.

You were on your own. You were no kid, anymore. You’re moving onto big girl things like moving to the big city; flashing lights, fast-paced times, overwhelming anxiety-filled environment, big mysteries and savouring new moments. Tom Ford, catapulted your career further way beyond the horizon.

Chest squeezing. Heart thumping. Bright lights. Everyone’s attention turned to you— the clicks of their cameras. Gaze is fixed on the end of the runway. Conscious of your steps. God, you felt awkward. With the slight rock and sway of your hips, this movement didn’t come naturally as the other models did. You felt tiny. How were you supposed to showcase the intricately designed clothing when they might be snickering about how you walk?

A fellow model reassured you, ‘There was no such thing as perfection when you’ve only begun..’

Fake it till you make it they say. Well, years have passed at the age of 22, and you are now one of the most recognisable faces in the industry. You’ve walked for many runways on endless fashion weeks, been on the cover of Vogue, Elle, Harpers Bazaar, the face of Versace, representative of Swarovski and many more. Some even dare say, up and coming It Girl. You’ve accomplished a lot, all on your own.

Though, one unexpected thing came into your life, living in Seoul, South Korea. The thought never crossed your mind once. But you came to South Korea for a photo shoot with Vogue Korea back in 2019. Needless to say, you fell in love with the culture, the country’s generous and kind residents, the language, the atmosphere and — Well, obviously, the city itself. You have dedicated learning the language and culture in order to live smoothly and in harmony.

It was difficult having to fly out to New York thousands of miles away, the epicentre of jobs and Fashion Week. But, what can you say? You were used to it. Hopping onto planes needing to be somewhere by Friday? Oh, London Fashion week ends on this day but, Paris starts that day. No worries. It was painfully exhausting but that’s the life of a Supermodel.

Your life in Seoul didn’t change much. Though this time you’re receiving twice the jobs than you did before, many Korean designers have reached out to you to model for the clothing they have designed such as Rok Hwang, Eudon Choi, the duo Byungmun Seo and Jina Um and finally, Youngae Lee and Happly for their project ‘Hanbok Wave’. Not only were you attracting attention in the fashion industry but it extended to the entertainment industry, you’ve been invited to many varieties of shows to be featured in.

As your schedule began to fizzle down, you found the time to film for the TV programme you were featured in ‘I live Alone’. Dressed all chic and feminine, opting for the chunky loafers with a pair of long white socks instead of your Versace heels. Your hair is all done so beautifully. Smiling so brightly at all the familiar faces and jogging up to them for a quick embrace. A light chatter followed along with it, ‘how are you?’, ‘I’ve been doing well’, ‘It’s nice to see you again’. Strings of compliments flowed through.

“안녕하세요. I’m (First name).” You greet the man. Undeniably gorgeous, you couldn’t even focus much on what he was saying as he reaches in for a handshake, he introduces himself as— 

“안녕하세요, 조규성.” The beautiful angel marks dotted all over his face like starry stars across the wide peaceful sky. But, goddamn, he’s so bright like the sun and his beauty is also so blinding it hurts. His beautiful carved nose and the sharp angles of his jaw, high prominent cheekbones. Everything about him was a piece of art. He’s a delicate and classic painting deserving to be in a museum.

Heartbeat was skipping across the street. 

Filming starts at any second now and you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him. The soft fluffy brush glides across your face for the final touch-ups. Unbeknownst to you, Gue Sung also had to take a double take also stealing sweet glimpses, you had an addicting kind of beauty. It was much more than a drug. The kind of one that makes Aphrodite green as envy and red as rage. Eyes trail to every detail of your face. The way your eyes brighten as you joke lightly with your makeup artist.

“Please everyone get ready! Filming will start in 10!”

That was months ago. Time flies quickly; your home became littered with traces of him. He was everywhere you looked, in every corner, you breathed him. Gue Sung has now integrated well and was a part of your being. You have made space in your extensive closet just for him, he has his very own mug for his coffee in the morning, framed photo of you together on your bedside table, his own toothbrush and his very own corner for all the things he leaves.

Those months spent together have nothing been but elated, fondness and love. You have never been this happy, your whole entire life, you have never expected for him to come into your life at such an unexpected time. But, you thank God every day.

The sound of the familiar beeps and the sound of the front door opening echoed in your small apartment. 

“자기야, I’m home!”

Immediately, you tossed your phone aside, jumped off the sofa and came barreling. Gue Sung was kicking off his shoes as he slips his face mask off, he puts his bag down and his arm stretched out wide open. No hesitation, you crashed right into his warm loving embrace.

“Hi.” You mumbled nuzzling your face into the side of his neck and inhaling his scent. He awkwardly shuffles with you still practically glued onto him and clung onto him like a koala bear, Gue Sung peppers your temples and hairline with kisses. Running his hands up and down your back. You only snuggled further onto his neck tightening your grip around his large frame.

“Did you miss me?” He whispers softly voice dripping in honey, you pull away enough so, you could stare deeply into his eyes, and you rest your head on his shoulder. Gue Sung couldn’t resist but placed a quick kiss on your lips.

“Not even a little bit.” You tease, poking your tongue out at him playfully.

“Oh? I know you did. You can’t even think about not having me by your side that’s why you asked for my number when we first met.” Not exactly a lie but, not exactly the complete truth either. You gasped dramatically,

“I don’t appreciate you lying about my name like that.”

Gue Sung hums. 

“Did you eat yet?” You asked.

“No. I knew you were waiting for me.” It tendered your heart.

“Let’s go eat then. I’m sure you’re starving.” However, Gue Sung didn’t want to let go, his grip on you only tightened squeezing you against his torso. No matter how many times, you brush his arms away it would always ends up back circling around your waist.

“What? I can’t set the table if we’re like this.” You laugh light-heartedly,

“Have you always been this pretty?” Gue Sung almost coos, “우리이쁜자기 ( My pretty baby ).”

“Go take a shower! You stink.” You ushered him away towards the bathroom. Your ear pick up the sound of water splashing, you move around the kitchen, hands everywhere all at once to get the food reheated, plated and on the table before Gue Sung gets out of the shower. 

It has been a long day for him, you’re sure. You take upong yourself to sit while you await for your beloved, occupied by your mobile phone. Food all laid out on the table; all simple and quick whipped up meal, thankfully your boyfriend was no picky eater. He enjoyed a variety of dishes and scarfed everything down with gusto… Except meat. He’s particular about how it should be done. Not long after, he emerges from the shower.

You held out your hand for him to hand the towel. It’s a unspoken ritual at this point; he sits down and you dry off his hair. There was something weirdly intimate about it. Running the soft towel through his damp hair. Once his hair is relatively dry, you carded your fingers through his hair brushing it off his forehead, slicking it back. He lets out a sigh of relief and softens under your tender touch. 

You were so deeply lost in your task, you fail to notice Gue Sung’s blatant fond, affectionate and loving stare. He admires everything that you are from your head and down to your toe. He likes everything that you do to him.

“What?” You ask with a stupid smile on your face leaning to his level.

“Nothing.” Gue Sung shook his head.

He cups your face peppered kisses. From your forehead. Eyes. Nose. Cheeks. Finally on your lips.

One love, one house.

[asttrogirl]

𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧︱𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮

﹙❀﹚PAIRING; gojo satoru x f!reader

﹙❀﹚WC; 0,8k

﹙❀﹚SUMMARY; satoru knew better than to abuse power but he loved it when you begged for help.

The summer night breeze gently fluttered your hair as you stood in the dark and desolate abandoned building. The lights of Tokyo city flickered in the distance, creating a mysterious and dangerous atmosphere. The silence was occasionally interrupted by the howling wind through the empty corridors, and the shadows lengthened, adding a touch of tension to the air.

You silently lamented accepting this solo mission, unaware that you would face a curse of greater magnitude than expected. The worn-out walls and broken windows allowed the faint moonlight to seep in, casting sinister shadows in the surroundings. You felt trapped in a labyrinth of darkness, without a clear way out.

"Satoru, listen. Tell the professor I need help," you urgently exclaimed through the communication device as you moved stealthily, trying to dodge the twisted tendrils of the Grade 2 curse that writhed threateningly before you.

From the comfort of his bed, Satoru smirked. "And what if I refuse?"

"Satoru, this is not a game," you responded with frustration, feeling the pressure mounting around you.

The building, once bustling with human activity, now seemed to whisper with an air of abandonment and despair. Inaudible murmurs mixed with the creaking of rotten floorboards under your feet, creating an oppressive atmosphere. You knew that saving civilians was no longer one of your immediate concerns; your own survival had become the top priority.

"I'm just telling you that I can't bother Yaga. Besides, I'm about to take a nap," Satoru taunted shamelessly, oblivious to the gravity of the situation.

"Satoru, just do it already!" you demanded, feeling adrenaline coursing through your veins as you confronted the looming threat.

"Say the magic words," Satoru challenged, relishing the tension and risk from the comfort of his position.

Frustrated and with no time to lose, you ended the call before continuing to ascend the abandoned building. Every step was a struggle against the shadows and the terror that seemed to lurk from every corner. The darkness seemed to want to swallow you whole.

You could feel the curse nipping at your heels, its twisted tendrils seeking to ensnare you. But before you could react, an enigmatic and familiar figure materialized in front of you. A bright, white halo formed a few meters away, illuminating the surroundings with its supernatural glow.

"Hey, that's mine," Satoru said, with a popsicle in his mouth and dark glasses hanging on his nose. Despite his carefree attitude, his eyes reflected determination and bravery.

The curse seemed to completely ignore Satoru's presence, as if acknowledging his power and being overpowered. Gojo's attention focused on you as he approached, filling the air with his overpowering presence. His penetrating gaze challenged you.

"You didn't say the magic words," he stated with a calm yet authoritative voice.

"Screw you," you replied, a mix of courage and defiance.

His smile widened, as if he enjoyed your defiant spirit. You could feel your own fear, but you also knew that deep down, Satoru found your strength and determination attractive. Despite your differences and constant clashes, there was something that mutually drew you to each other.

He didn't complain because deep down, he was delighted to leave everything behind and come to your rescue time and time again.

After exchanging glances filled with conflicting emotions, a tense silence took hold of the atmosphere. Satoru broke the silence with a playful smile.

"Don't you have something to say to me?" he asked mischievously, expecting you to acknowledge his help.

You initially refused, feeling stubborn pride burning within you. However, deep down, you knew that Satoru had once again come to your rescue. With a resigned sigh, you finally muttered the words begrudgingly.

"Thanks, I guess," you admitted, unwilling to fully show your gratitude.

Satoru's smile softened, and he looked at you with a warm gleam in his eyes. "Don't cry. Stand up and let's go. We both need rest," he said in his soft and reassuring voice.

You quickly wiped away the tears that had escaped without permission and nodded silently. Though you sometimes seemed like enemies, there was a special bond between you, a connection that transcended fights and disagreements. Together, you walked towards the exit of the abandoned building, leaving behind the darkness and danger.

That night, Satoru made the decision to stay in your room. They cuddled together in the comforting warmth of your bed, setting aside tensions and differences until the next morning. Silence filled the room, calm and serene, as they drifted off into a restful sleep.

Satoru was aware that day by day, he managed to soften your defenses and melt your heart, just as you did with him. Before surrendering to sleep, he sighed and placed a gentle kiss on your forehead, embracing you with the same intensity as you embraced him.

Yep, tomorrow would definitely be another day.

©asttrogirl│don't copy or translate