T.S.P.S. (The Sangria Painted Storm)

by LongLostLain

Summary:

Ryōshū and Ishmael are butting heads over a solution to a problem that requires an answer neither of them like: a compromise. There was a massive wave in a mirror dungeon, barely letting her and Ryōshū get through. Ishmael believes that they should retreat, claim the rewards they have gotten so far in the floors, and take some time off. But Ryōshū believes otherwise, stating that it would be beneficial to go further until their very last breath. Neither of them are giving Dante much time to decide what solution to go for, and it only gets worse from there.

Notes:

This is my first time posting anything here!! I've had this in my files for a while.. I'm gonna publish the first part for now, the second chapter will be fluff, third will be smut and forth will be aftercare!! hope you all enjoy <3

Chapter 1: ACT 1: Prelude of Violence

Act 1: 
The pair had made it. 
They barely held on after an excruciating wave in the 7th layer of the mirror dungeon. This encounter felt tailored and made to sew discontent in their team, but it seemed to come out in a way no one could have expected. 

“Dante.” Ishmael looked at the clock face with a tired, bloody face. “We barely made it through today.. I- We need a break to regroup to finish this floor.” She spoke with an extremely low voice, like that talking caused her pain. Dante could not blame her either, barely making it with her sanity and life, it would make even the strongest middle member she fought cower. Unfortunately… The other alive face had other ideas. “C.H. It is a waste of time to stop.” Ryōshū stepped out towards the two. She was the only one who was alive. Though, as the one sinner in the reserve, she had that liberty to herself for today. “The fact of walking away now puts shame on such a wonderful art I have started, unlike the rest.” She oozed confidence at her killing, that she was the main show of the stage, coming in and sweeping in what the others had struggled on. 

“Yeah, if we had more bodies to throw out there, Ryōshū.” Ishmael glare into Ryōshū’s eyes, clearly upset at the sinners suggestion of a suicide mission. “Dante, It is unwise to use all of us left as throwable bodies, even with your ability to turn us back.” She refused to listen to Ryōshūs' words, and stood on her own ground. To her, letting what's left of the sinners throw themselves at the next few layers was a waste, as she believed that most if not all of them did not synergize well with the composition she and the rest worked on. Bleed comps with ids that barely bleed is a bad idea, she knew to herself. Only ones like Heathcliff's kurokumo id would be able to do well enough. But with her state.. it would be impossible for her to support him. “S.H does not understand that we have just enough paint left at the end of this floor. Refusing it is S.I.C.K.” Ishmael hated that name, she knew Ryōshū meant her whenever she said ‘S.H’ but never bothered to ask what it meant, and honestly, figured it meant something about her being stupid. She grew agitated to hear what Dante said. She tried to remain composed, and looked back at Dante, shaking her leg impatiently. 
<I think this is a good time as any to pause, regroup and->

Dante ticked, but by the time they said pause, Ryōshū knew where it was going, and looked at Ishmael and said something faint enough so only she heard it. Whatever it was, Ishmael swung her shield in retaliation, weakly but with pure anger in her intent. Ryōshū held up the sheath of her blade, blocking the swing with a clatter. She quickly sliced a mark into Ishmael’s direction, scratching her face and collarbone. 
< Ryōshū! Ishmael! > 

Dante screamed, not that they could scream, but it was loud enough for them to hear. 
The two didn't listen, as Ishmael stumbled from the slice, she bashed her mace into Ryōshū’s legs, pushing past her blade and hitting her shin, as she bent over. “Unclean, S.H.” She barked, she felt the pain but refused to let Ishmael get the satisfaction of hearing her hurt. Fresh blood ached out from both their new wounds, and Ryōshū planned to make another, aiming to put her blade through Ishmael’s skull next, before Dante ran over and pushed Ryōshū over, making sure she did not add anything extra to Ishmaels current state.
< both of you listen! I know you both are upset and have your own opinions on this but if this is how you settle it, neither of you will get to continue.> 
Dante couldn’t have meant they would kill each other, they had other ideas.

<For the rest of this run, you two have to sit it out.>
Surely they were bluffing, trying to get the two to stop before the girls tore each other apart. But all doubts went out the window when Dante rewound the clock, healing the dead sinners, and opened the mirror dungeon door they had entered into. 
<Ryōshū and Ishmael, you are dismissed for the extent of the dungeon. I will have Rodya and Heathcliff cover for you.> 
The two were baffled, this was common for the sinners who were irreversibly injured in a battle like this but, over a scuffle? “Ch. don’t make me regret this, Clock face.” She walked ahead of the ishmael, as she was on the ground. Ishmael, tired and barely hearing what dante said, got up and looked at Dante, she wanted to say thanks for listening, but the way they dealt with it made her believe it was not her wisdom or intellect that got him to do this, rather, the act of violence she regretted using her energy and emotions for. She left quietly, looking behind as the door closed.

Chapter 2: ACT 2: Solemn Paintings of Sympathy

Summary:

So Ishmael takes the initiative and apologizes to Ryōshū. Ishmael just completely breaks down because she misses her wife queequeg. the knot she wore was the only thing that she had in memory, and Ryōshū insulted it. This reminds Ryōshū of a familiar feeling of pain for someone she loved...

Notes:

Hi! this chapter is fluff, the next two will be smut and aftercare.

this chapter also clarifies the significance of the two and how they end up falling for each other (typical wlw girlies)

It had been a couple hours or so since their fight. Ryōshū and Ishmael both remained quietly in their rooms, or… did Ishmael..?

A knock came from outside Ryōshū’s door. She knew it was Ishmael, she knew that Ishmael intended to apologize, and she would shrug it off. She felt like it happened a lot, yet this felt different.
Ryōshū opened the door, looking at Ishmael with an expression that could only be seen as “you disturbed me you stupid fish.” But it started to lessen when she looked closer at Ishmael, past the cigarette smoke that Ryōshū smoked to ease her stress against the world. Ishmael was crying. Her eyes ran clear tears, as her red face ached to almost just wish away her pain. 
She didn't say anything. As Ryōshū poked her red eyes through the door looking as Ishmael, her feeling of annoyance subsided with a feeling of that she felt… remorse. In a sense, she lost herself to the concept of her art in battle, and hurt someone who had still cared about her. Despite everything, Ishmael still came to her when she needed advice, and someone to talk to. Ishmael cared for her, which confused Ryōshū, since the ideal of someone who says little and focuses on her own thoughts and agrees to almost everything the manager says, asking someone so self absorbed and uncaring of others confused her. It didn't make sense.
Though now, she could only look back and see that Ishmael needed someone to be with. One who wasn’t constantly lovey towards her, one that wasn’t hyperactive like a happy puppy, and not someone who was quiet and happy with the present feeling, she wanted Ryōshū. 

Ryōshū opened the door, still processing the thoughts and feelings that invaded her like a foreign art, as Ishmael slowly looked at Ryōshū, her head held heavy. “Can I-“ Ryōshū placed her finger on the saddened sinner's lips, and held her shoulder tenderly as she let her in. 

Ryōshū brang Ishmael with her hands to the futon that sat in front of her assortment of candles, and her blade. It rested like a paintbrush drying out, as the wax candles made a beautiful melted assortment above it. She sat herself and Ishmael both down on the bedding. The room felt like it was the dead of night, even though it was not. It housed Ryōshū’s desires, and her desire always painted the sky at night.
She held onto Ishmael’s shoulders, looking into her as she expected the same ordinary apology. It came.. but..
“Ryōshū, I'm sorry dear. I just… I can't take the insult to my hair knot.”
She spoke of the insult that Ryōshū uttered, calling her knot above her crown “a selfish display of craftsmanship”. A phrase that originally started the situation that the two stood in now. 

“S.H. It is okay.” She uttered, something that did not sound like what she would say. She felt… fragile by the fact that Ishmael cried before her.. that she mustered herself to come standing at Ryōshū’s door, not begging for forgiveness but, trying to rationalize about this.

A lot of the issues the sinners encountered they would just leave behind them, forget and forgive… 

Yet…
Here lies these two women who hold onto each other in pain for their own actions, one begging for understanding, her eyes welling up in feeling she had hurt their friendship.. 
the other staring back, trying not to cry herself, let this feeling of fragility break her will, let in the pain and cry herself. 

The feeling Ryōshū felt.. it reminded her of something… familiar. So familiar.. that it was like Ryōshū was looking at one of her own works of art, displayed on a canvas.. that she had not painted herself. The Pain came from not the fact that she had something that felt like a replica, something almost as perfect as her art.. but.. 
that it had been there, and she had never seen it until this very moment.

And that’s what made these feelings come back.

Ishmael spoke again.
“I just… this is all I have to remember her by.” The senses came back like a wave for ishmael. She remembered her time on the Pequod, the feelings of love and adornment she had for Queequeg, the pain of losing her again.. it was a lot for her, something that Ryōshū had witnessed in her return to u corp.
she wished to let Ryōshū understand how painful that felt to her, not in a way to force pity, but..
like if Ryōshū were to paint her blood with a slowly healing wound, ripping the skin and opening the blood out again. Something that Ryōshū didn't even realize or cared to think she had caused.
Until Ishmael spoke her mind.

“It is a hard wound for me, thinking about Queequeg, its as how Heathcliff marked his bat for.. someone.” The memory escaped her of who Heathcliff fought on for, scraping his bat to ‘remember’ like the concept had been burnt across all time.. Ishmael continued speaking. 
“It was too soon, Ryōshū. I do not want to feel a constant grudge against you, waiting til you do it again from not knowing my pain, ripping the flesh out of the skin.”

Ishmael repeated the idea of metaphors that Ryōshū had taught her, and Ryōshū took notice and couldn’t stop herself from smiling in this tense moment. “It hurts, not in a way I can describe, for it is a feeling of emotion I alone carry. And it would benefit us both to still work side by side, painter and apprentice.” 

Ryōshū looked starstruck for a moment, her smile from the length of her explanation. Ishmael was prone to over-speaking when stressed but… this came out as more of a feeling of vulnerability.. one she did not know if Ryōshū was prepared to help her with. Ishmael looked at her briefly, thinking she had hurt Ryōshū more, and cried into her hands.

“Ishmael. Please.” She pushed away Ishmael’s hands so she could see Ryōshū, as Ryōshū smiled in a new unusual way that did not wish for her own selfish needs but… for Ishmael to be okay.
“I do not wish to see you cry in this way. Please.”

A desperate attempt to get Ishmael out of her feeling of pain, she had felt lost. Usually she could care less about others..

…but changed in her perception of Ishmael this very night.

Ryōshū did what she thought was best.

She kissed Ishmael. The lips of Ryōshū being held by her hands hugging Ishmael's chest. Ryōshū let her face be soaked by her tears.
She hugged her tightly, caressing her hair while her head lay next to Ishmael's ear. She whispered:

“Those tears you should not bear alone.”

All of this left Ishmael in shock… arms still at her side... 

…Until, eventually, Ishmael’s arms wrapped around Ryōshū’s body.

Notes:

ty for reading! next one is smut so!!! be prepared!

3-4 will be posted together since they are the most linked together of all the chapters.

Chapter 3: ACT 3: Apricot Colored Love

Summary:

Ishmael takes some time to reflect to herself, trying to grasp the new emotions as a familiar face comes to visit, and things start to fall into place..

Notes:

WATCH OUT! LESBIAN T4T FREAKY AHEAD!
I wanted to clarify also beforehand, I wrote Ryōshū as a trans woman who Is Post op. I wanted to make representation on my own, because both identities are valid and real to me <3

Ishmael did not remember much of what happened after that night… All she remembered was that she left Ryōshūs room with her shirt wet from not just her own tears… but Ryōshūs.
The whole ordeal perplexed her. something akin to a confusion hit Ishmael about it all.. that she still had some feelings left to say, some hunger left to be satiated, a pain she still had-

There was a single knock at her door. The sinners still remained in the mirror dungeon. Ishmael did not know if it was Dante, announcing they had finished the run, and the two could go back to their normal activities, or..

She got up, slipping on a pair of slippers she had crocheted, as that was a hobby she took up, per Faust's suggestion a while back. She opened the door. To her surprise, it was Ryōshū once again. Ryōshū was not one to visit, as it was usually Ishmaels job to come over to Ryōshū in her room. Ryōshū held a dying cigarette, it seemed like she was holding her smoke until Ishmael answered the door.

“Please leave the cigarette outside.” She said, looking at Ryōshū once again.
As Ryōshū put out the cigarette by flicking it to the ground and stepping on it, she saw the woman had put together her hair, and left her sword in her room. she always had it by her side. To her, It was just like a painter without her paintbrush. Almost like she had other ways for painting currently on her mind..
“I have other cigarettes in here, i planned to give you them since they don’t smell as bad..” Ishmael spoke, trying to not make Ryōshū upset for ruining her current smoke. But Ryōshū didn't seem to mind.
“S.H. It is okay. I will take a break for this visit.”
Ryōshū… not smoking? There was something very strange about that… like it was a part of her identity to ishmael. She planned to question the decision.. but Ryōshū had already entered into the bewildered Ishmaels room.

“Sunset. fits you well.”
Ryōshū was looking outside the window Ishmael had in her room. It was not a real window, obviously. but it peered into her hopes and ambitions, like the rest of the room. It felt very… homelike to Ishmael, it was filled with a pair of armchairs, a couch, a table, a bed, and a radio. She didn't listen to music on it but, it felt awfully like she was still in u corp; the feeling of being by the great lake.
“It's always a sunset in here.”
Ishmael walked over to Ryōshū who stood staring out into the orange and gold of the fake sea. Ishmael sat on her bed beside the window, looking out as well.

“Do you know what I mean by S.H.?”
This was, Sudden to ishmael. This is the first time Ryōshū was willing to clarify any sangria definition specifically to ishmael. Ishmael struggled with it a lot when she visited Ryōshū for advice. She presumed of late it was either Ryōshū being rude or trying to threaten violence, as it was how she spoke a lot.

 

“No.. I had ideas. but none of them made sense out loud.”
Ishmael said.
This reply had Ryōshū look over to her as she spoke. Ryōshū normally scoffs at her for saying that directly. But today... Ryōshū just sat down next to her, looking into Ishmael’s eyes.

“Sunset hair. It reminds me of the sunset.”

Ryōshū held Ishmael's hand as they sat, her mind and heart raced… Did she… know what that meant to her? Did she… understand?…

the feelings all came flooding in.. and out of all the sea waves of thoughts.. The biggest one begged to kiss her.

Now.. It was clear.

 

Ryōshū wanted Ishmael. Ishmael wanted Ryōshū. They both knew the feeling.. but now, their mind fogs lifted above their seas.

 

Ishmael held Ryōshūs hand back, the two waited for either of the others to pull themselves into an embrace. Seconds felt like hours. the sun laid still in the window, making everything go slowly.

Eventually Ishmael took her advance, a more quick and strong one than she had before. She pulled Ryōshū into a kiss, looking at her and looking into her face closely while Ryōshū’s eyes rested closed. Soon, Ishmael followed.

Ishmael was so absorbed in the feeling, she didn't even notice…
The loud moans she uttered from her body, clutching Ryōshū in the locking of their lips. Ryōshū pushed out, not from exhaustion, but..

“S.H. You moan loud enough to wake up dead whales.”
Oh, that’s what. Ishmaels whole body quaked from the pushback of Ryōshū telling her to quiet down.

“Oh, uhm. I did not realize.” She felt awkward. Did her body forsake her this much for the feeling of pleasure? “I couldn’t tell how loud i was-“

“D.O.N.T. Meaning: Don’t overthink now, tiger.”

Ryōshū spoke, interrupting Ishmael so she did not ramble on in her anxious thoughts. She kept a yearning expression while she spoke. “Save the sound for when I can hear you L.A.C.”
That one Ishmael knew, she understood ‘loud and clear’. She felt Ryōshūs hands move off her body, and went to unclip ishmaels bra.
“How… did you know my bra was on.. and a clipped one?” Ishmael said, flustered. Such a dumb question while in front of her new lover, a feeling she recognized from the night before.
They both had the same clothes from limbus company.
She knew this, the reality was Ishmael just wanted to hear anything from Ryōshū, in this moment while she had her body touched.

Her body ached for a deeper feeling..

“We both know, S.H.” Ishmael in her red hot face, blushed from her voice. “I might have to start using that for more than just ‘sunset hair’.” Ryōshū looked at her slyly, and left Ishmael to take off her own shirt.
“Only fair, now you know what it means.”

“Oh whatever, I'll just presume it means sunset hair, Ryōshū.”
Ishmael said, embarrassed by both her now naked top and her red eyed adoring fan, poking fun at her while she clearly looked straight into Ishmaels breasts like second pairs of eyes.
“Is it my turn to undress you?”

“Oho? What makes you think you're allowed to do that?” Ryōshū’s fun was not over, she wanted to make it a game for Ishmael to have the gratification.
“I will do it myself, and you will S.A.W.”

Ishmael wanted to object but.. Ryōshū already was undressing herself by the time she could think of any comeback. She did not have a bra underneath, almost like in anticipation for all this, which made Ishmael overthink for a moment if this was all an act to Ryōshū.

As she thought about the guise of this being staged, the now naked Ryōshū grabbed Ishmaels hand. Ryōshū placed it on her own Tender breast that now poked loose.
“Did you enjoy sitting and watching? Well, I'm not done yet, stay still.”

Ishmael did not have a chance to gawk, as Ryōshū pushed Ishmael’s hand she grasped down her stomach, until it grazed past her somewhat thin trail and bush and to her inner thigh. Ishmael could hear the concealed heavy breathing that Ryōshū suppressed. It felt like it was louder to her than any noise.. it spoke to her more than any word Ryōshū could say right now.

Her inner thigh was soaked. It felt like she had been waiting since the night before.. When they first kissed. Ishmael could not imagine that act of sexual abstinence for so long. but soon.. neither of them would have to imagine that anymore.

Ryōshū breathed heavier, hoping that Ishmael would lead herself now that her hand laid on Ryōshūs privates, allowing her to touch and do what she felt was right… but Ishmael didn't know what to do.. and in a guess so that she could still hear the sweet moans that Ryōshū made.. she teased and massaged her crotch.

Apparently that was the perfect solution. Ryōshū jolted from the touch, pushing herself back into the sheets from the feeling. She covered her mouth with one hand.. and that was enough for Ishmael to go further to hear what Ryōshū blocked. She curved her two fingers and let them do the work.
And it worked… Ryōshū moaned louder.. the sensation taking over her brain as her legs quaked from shock… yet her hand still muffled it.

Ishmael was still determined to hear it fully, and intended to. She pushed her hand out.. soaked from the wetness.. forgot to wipe it off and pulled off her pants and underwear, and pushed herself on top of Ryōshū quickly.
Her wet hand held the wrist of the one that Ryōshū covered her mouth with. Now that they were face to face.. Ryōshūs eyes smiled.. like she had planned this.. and this was how she got what she wanted.

Ishmael did not care about Ryōshū’s games. She wanted to fuck her, not play with her any longer. Her cock already leaked.. her legs were covered in sweat, glistening her scars.. and her freckles. She refused to stop herself now with the haste of it. She needed Ryōshū really moaning for her.

In the fit of the moment, like a feral beast, Ishmael pushed herself into Ryōshū, making sure to be quick as she pushed in for the first time.
This was what she needed, she did not think of it, like a beast obeying only its senses. But it got Ryōshū to really moan. As she felt the vibrations of her hand… she pulled it away from Ryōshūs mouth.. letting the full sound come out into her ears.

It cracked from surprise but.. it was otherworldly. To Ishmael, this must have been the closest to understanding what made Ryōshū keep fighting so inhumanely, letting the screams of her victims fill the push to continue. A whole different type of lust.. but the same feeling Ishmael felt now.

Ryōshū moaned for a solid couple seconds… it was like she could not help her mind from making it.. and couldn't cover it up. Ishmael held both her wrists. They were held firm and tight, like a sailor tying a knot to the bow of the ship... but her grasp, unlike a rope.. would not break.
Ryōshū was at her mercy…
And She liked it.

She hated the feeling of being powerless to someone but…
Ishmael did not want to harm her. Ryōshū realized she just wanted to hear her lover.

“Closer… please.” She tried to demand, as her body and voice quaked from the surprise and anticipation of it all. It came out more pathetic than she would have liked.. but. It got what she wanted.
Ishmael pushed herself closer to Ryōshū, their faces meeting. And Ishmael kissed her once again. lessening her grip on Ryōshū’s hands..
she thrusted in back and forth slowly as they kissed… letting the sound of their moans harmonize together. until Ishmael’s body could not hold herself up. and she rested her head on Ryōshūs shoulder. Pounding faster as the two continued with their harmony of love.

It felt like hours of the two just pushing in and out of each other.. but in reality they could not tell the time in the midst of passion. Ishmaels body sweated with tears of joy and ecstasy, while Ryōshū looked longingly into Ishmael's eyes. This felt more than just a one time, she couldn’t help but look at her orange hair as she pushed back and forth into her. It was like a sunsetted river, orange and flowing with the tide. But, due to Ishmael’s focus being on making love more than restraining Ryōshū, and since they both understood their needs in this moment, Ryōshū put her hand out brushing Ishmaels hair with her hand. It felt soft to her, her brushes felt like pauses between the whole pleasure of it all.. a pause in her sensation. It was more than just the lust for her at this moment. She felt pure joy. A yearning that had felt accomplished.. a feeling restored she had lost..

She learned that. It faded, but it was not lost..
as Ishmael moaned and breathed heavily as she continued. She got faster, the feeling of release closer and closer as she felt her whole body sweating and rubbing as she got closer to her climax… but she had to let Ryōshū know.
“Ryōshū.. im.. gonna..”

Ryōshū spoke before Ishmael could finish.
“Please… ishmael, finish for.. me, reach your peak…”
She spoke eloquently as the two embraced and came together… Ryōshū pulled Ishmael on her own, holding her arms around ishmael’s back. She combed through her soft hair slightly as the two climaxed.

Notes:

ok so i lied about chapter 3.5 being done,,, sorry chat 3
I promise past all my other creative works ill do that asap!!! have a full plate and all rn so... pray for me! please! actually you dont have to!! just!! ill get to it soon.

Notes:

so huh.. yeah! next part will be comfort... I'll post that soon.

i wanted to write out a post chapter for 4.. up to today's date writing this 3/4 are done, i want to publish these in the meantime though!!

i will post three and four together, so ill finish that today (hopefully)