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spxllcxstxr · 4 years ago

Text

Inked • S.B

(Gif not mine)

Request: Hi! Could I request a Soulmate AU with Sirius please? Marauders era with matching tattoos. No rush and thank you 🌹🖤 — @fific7

Summary: Mary is determined to find your soulmate and not even an oncoming storm will stop her. (Soulmate AU)

Warnings: some tattoo talk?, rain, thunder, I guess hints/implied bullying, Peter makes an appearance but like he’s not a key part and he’s not like bad or anything

Word Count: 2.3k

A.N: This is the kind of star I’m envisioning for your soulmark (just not yellow) I actually never specify the color, so you can imagine any color you want. This took me like a week to write for some reason. But I like how it turned out. Hopefully you guys do too! Love you all ❤️

****

No one ever told you that soulmarks tingled.

When the eight pointed star seared itself into the flesh of the inside of your left elbow at age sixteen, you thought that was it. You thought that it would just sit there innocently to the point where it wouldn’t cross your mind every second of every day, but Merlin were you wrong.

The prickling of the mark was constant, like pins and needles jabbing relentlessly into your arm. It wasn’t exactly painful, it was just an obnoxious and infuriating reminder that you still haven’t found your soulmate.

Hogwarts was practically the place for the vast majority of witches and wizards to find their soulmate, as it was basically the only topic discussed amongst the sixth and seventh years.

Honestly, you just wanted your mark to stop its incessant tingling to the point where you wouldn’t mind anyone being your soulmate. You’ve never heard any complaints from your friends who had already found their true loves, so you assume that the sensation stops eventually.

But you were tired of scratching at your arm making it look like you had some weird sort of flesh eating disease. It was unflattering and highly inconvenient.

Sure, you could run around like a headless hippogriff with your sleeve rolled up asking everyone you encounter if they’ve seen another person with that identical mark, but that’s not romantic. And you wanted romantic, Merlin damn it.

Plus, imagine the burn of embarrassment that would overtake your entire being if no one shared your soulmark. You shudder at the mere thought.

So, you learn to live with it.

You almost want to rip your arm off when it gets particularly bad while studying or trying to get the perfect measurement for your potion, but after a full year you’re almost used to it.

You’re used to how often your friends would gush about their own soulmates and their constant questions about why you’re still single as well.

Mary MacDonald, one of your best friends, had already found her soulmate, some boy from Beauxbatons that sent her too many Howlers during breakfast, but they loved each other, so who were you to complain?

But ever since she found hers, she’s been pretty determined to seek out yours. Even getting her boyfriend to ask around his own school. You can never show your face around Beauxbatons and that’s final.

She’ll make you sit around the courtyard, pretending to read a book, while she scans the arms of the many crowds in search of your star. Mary tries to walk in on top secret Quidditch practices to get a glimpse of any rolled up sleeves, but so far, no good.

That’s really the only reason she’s dragging you down to the Black Lake even though dark grey clouds are hanging heavy in the sky.

“Mary!” You huff as she drags you down the grassy hills, the smell of rain thick in the air. “I know what you’re doing, I’m not daft, y’know.”

Her hand tightens around yours as she starts to feel you resist.

“What I’m doing? (Y/n), it’s a nice day to just hang out at the lake!” Mary cries, the lie hidden well if she wasn’t your best friend.

“Mary it’s about to torrential downpour.” You scoff.

“I thought you liked the rain.” She shrugs innocently, the sound of weeds getting crushed beneath your school shoes loud in your ears.

“Mary, my soulmate might not even be at Hogwarts!” You exclaim, trying to get out of this whole situation. You could be curled up by the fire with a sugar quill, but no, why would Mary let you have some peace and quiet? “They might be older or younger than me—“

“Well we won’t know that, will we, until we check everyone in our year first.” She insists.

The deep murky water is in sight, a few people are lazily lounging around the water’s edge. Like they haven’t even noticed the rain clouds overhead.

“You’re obsessed.” You sigh, finally stopping your attempts to wriggle away from her.

“It’s because I love you.” She smiles sweetly at you, cheeks pushed high, obscuring her dark eyes.

You continue to rub the inside of your arm against the side of your abdomen, attempting to find some sort of relief. The scratchy fabric of your white button down against your grey vest is probably the most effective. The closer to the bank you get, the better you’re able to make out the figures.

The owner of the vibrant red hair was obviously Lily, one of Mary’s friends, and also the more sensible of the group considering her coat was tightly wrapped around her. She’s in a somewhat similar situation as you—she hasn’t shown her soulmark to anyone. However, if what Mary drunkenly told you one night is true, it matches James Potter’s to a tee. Poor her.

Peter was also there, kicking rocks around and chuckling at whatever story Lily was telling them. His Gryffindor jumper is a little short on him while his slacks are a little long, mud dirtying the hem of them. As far as you know, he doesn’t even have a soulmark. It’s not uncommon or something to be ashamed of, but ever since certain people found out, it’s been quite the issue. Sure the infamous Marauders took care of the situation the best they could, but the damage was already done.

The last person was obviously Sirius, you could tell by the way he has his wand situated in his bun. He was closer to the water, picking up flat stones to skip across. His bark like laugh echoing across the space. You and Mary weren’t too far from the group now, so you could tell that the top two buttons of his dress shirt were popped open. Sirius Black’s soulmark was another mystery. He seems like the type to brag about something as important as a soulmark, but as far as you know, only James, Remus, and Peter were privy to that sort of information.

“Hey guys!” Lily perks up, waving at the two of you.

You smile and wave at her, but as Mary stops and chat, you gravitate closer to Peter and Sirius.

“So where are the other two?” You ask, watching as his stone skips across the water, finally ending with a satisfying plunk!

Sirius turns to face you, a few loose strands framing his face, blowing slightly in the wind.

“Detention.” He remarks casually, lazily trying to tame his curls.

“And you two aren’t?”

Peter shakes his head enthusiastically, blond hair bobbing around. “Sirius and I managed to escape before Slughorn lost it.”

“Hey Pete!” You hear Mary call from behind you. “Don’t you wanna know what you missed in Muggle Studies?”

“Shit, yeah.” Peter bounds over to where Lily and Mary are sitting, leaving you and Sirius alone. Your feet shuffle at the predicament.

You slowly inch closer to Sirius, the large distance awkward without a third person. You’re forced to hold down a wince as your mark prickles almost painfully.

Sirius’ eyes are almost the same shade as the clouds in the sky as they pierce into yours.

“You know how to skip rocks?” He tosses you a smooth stone which you catch effortlessly.

You open your mouth to respond but before you’re able to, you’re cut off by a clap of thunder. The ripples of thunder makes you jump slightly.

“We should probably go inside—“ You start, shivering at the cold wind that begins to roll past you.

“Scared of a little thunder, (Y/n)?” Sirius teases, smirking at your shivering form.

“Don’t be a prick.” You snort. “Just throw your rock.”

You push the thought of the oncoming storm to the back of your mind as you position yourself on the bank.

The water laps at you shoes as you toe the edge, running your thumb over the smooth surface. You mirror Sirius’ position, slightly crouched at the knee, body angled towards the lake.

“One...two...three!”

You watch his body move fluidly through the positions, the stone releasing and skipping across the water delicately. Not only do you get distracted by Sirius, but the mark on your arm gives a sudden jolt, making your posture falter and your stone crash recklessly into the lake.

Sirius brings a ringed fist up to his mouth, trying and failing to stifle a laugh.

“It’s not that funny.” You grumble, embarrassed.

“I mean, it’s pretty fucking hilarious. I thought you said you knew how to skip rocks?” He crosses his arms over his chest, eyebrows raised, a chuckle still lightly escaping his amused smile.

“Technically, I didn’t tell you shit.” You remark. “The thunder cut me off.”

“Ah yes. The spooky thunder.” He drawls, wagging his painted fingers at you mockingly.

You bring your hand up to flick him off when you feel a cool dot of water drop onto your hand.

“Hey, did you just feel a—“

In the middle of talking, one raindrop becomes hundreds, the torrential downpour almost instantly soaking you to your bones. You hair plasters to your skin, clothes clinging onto you.

“—raindrop?” You utter weekly, a chill coming over you.

Your eyes widen as you look at Sirius, how his dark hair sticks wildly to his face, like curtains across his eyes.

Lily and Mary let out identical high pitched shrieks, and you hear the sound of mud squelching as the three run back towards the castle.

As Sirius tries to wipe the wet hair from his face, you grab onto his wrist, pulling him as your sprint back to the castle. You’re fumbling as you try not to slip in the mud but at the same time try get to the cover of the castle quickly.

“A little thunder, my arse, Sirius!” You huff out, his wrist still grasped tightly in your hand.

You hear him chuckle behind you, easily keeping up with your pace.

Cold water traces down your back and fills your shoes, your discomfort rapidly increasing with every step and every second you spend outdoors.

Your mind drifts off to Sirius, who was only in his white uniform button down. He must be freezing.

After sloshing through puddles and mucking up your shoes, you manage to get under the cover of the stone castle.

Your teeth are chattering and you body trembles, but at least the rain isn’t cutting into your skin anymore.

Lily, Mary, and Peter are nowhere to be found, though they’re probably making their way to the Gryffindor common room already.

Sirius is wringing out his drenched dark curls, his wand between his lips, but you’re too focused in the face that his shirt is now completely see through. Your eyes wander as you ogle his fit body, shamelessly trailing everywhere. You bite your bottom lip at your confidence.

However, something catches your eye as you admire his arms. A black splotch. Like a tattoo in the inside of his elbow. You somehow go colder than you already were.

“Admiring my beauty—Hey!”

You step forward and latch onto his arm, trying to get a better look at the spot on his arm. Initially, he struggles, but you jab your finger into his skin, your own mark tingling beneath your wet clothes.

“What’s your problem, (Y/n)?” He angrily grunts.

“What’s this, Sirius?” You demand, looking at him.

“Why?” Sirius rips his arm out of your grasp, trying his best to hide the mark from you.

“Because,” You explain, rolling up your own sleeve to expose the eight pointed star on your arm. “We might have something in common.”

Your entire body erupts into shivers both from the cold wind against your soaked skin and the way your soulmark buzzing.

The star stands out against your skin and you watch Sirius’ eyes widen, his jaw going slightly slack.

“Sirius.” You whisper. “I need to know if you’re my soulmate.”

The rain pounds against the castle, wind whistles, and thunder claps, and yet you don’t jump. You’re too focused on Sirius’ expression.

Silently, he brings his index finger to your mark and lightly traces the shape with his fingertip. His finger is cold, but you barely realize it because of the shock that runs through your body, originating from his touch. Goosebumps run wildly across your flesh.

He swallows harshly before pulling away and recklessly pushes his sleeve up the length of his arm. Your heart beats wildly in your chest in anticipation.

Sirius shoves his arm in front of you and you bring your gaze to focus on the inside of his elbow.

And there it is.

His soulmark.

Your soulmark.

The lines are clean and the points are sharp, the star is clear against his skin.

“Oh.”

“You’re my soulmate.” Sirius mutters. “Oh thank Merlin!” He’s laughing, a smile growing across his face.

His laughter is infectious and you find yourself joining him, practically jumping with glee.

Sirius latches onto you, pulling your wet bodies close. He brings his lips to your forehead, warmth spreading from the contact.

“We should celebrate.” Sirius remarks, pulling away just enough to see your entire form.

“Hold on.” You chuckle. “I think you’re forgetting to do something.”

His grey eyes flick down to your lips. “How could I ever forget the best part?” He smirks.

You lips are slow to connect, relishing in the sounds of the rain and how his his hands wrap around your elbows, thumb pressed into your mark.

When they finally join together, you feel whole. Like two puzzle pieces linked together. Eyes flutter shut as emotion run rampant through your body. Your mark tingles before fizzling out when you and Sirius disconnect.

You’re breathless as you cling onto him, as he clings onto you.

“We’ve got a party to throw,” Sirius grabs your hand. “soulmate.”

A stupid grin makes its way across your face.

“Lead the way, soulmate.”

•

Sirius Black Taglist: @quindolyn @fific7 @msmb @lunalovecroft

All Character Taglist: @aspiringsloth20 @amourtentiaa @cherie-draco

#Sirius black #sirius black x reader #Sirius black fluff #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black imagine #the marauders x reader

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candreloup · 3 years ago

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Hello! So, here's the surprise! I'm doing a collab with@villain-enthusiast! We decided to split an ask into two parts- I'm doing part one, and they'll do part 2. The ask is from an anon- but whoever you are, here's your ask! Also- to the people reading this, make sure to go check out part 2 on @villain-enthusiast's 's blog! I'll add the link when it's up. Anyways, on to the story!

(Also this ask is addressed to@villain-enthusiast, NOT me)

hi! i really love your writing, and i was wondering if you could write a snippet where an assassin is given a lucrative sum of money to kill a prince, but when she tries to, it turns out that the prince is like, /five/, and his parents really suck (like, really, really suck), so she ends up faking the prince's death and adopting (read: kidnapping)

"I need you to kill someone."

The bag thumped onto the table, clanking with the distinct sound of coins.

Assassin raised an eyebrow. "That little?"

The man at the end of the table scoffed. "There's more."

"How much more?"

"Enough."

Assassin snorted and spun in her chair, turning and getting up.

"50,000."

Assassin started walking.

"100,000."

She kept walking, strolling lazily along the plush carpet. The man behind her huffed in exasperation. "What more do you want?" Assassin laughed.

"You know the price- you tell me."

"...500,000."

Her back still turned, Assassin paused, calculating. 500,000. It was a ridiculous sum for an assassination- even she knew that. Half a million was enough to live off of for... well, for a while. On one hand- it was almost too good to be true. On the other hand, she knew full well it was going to be risky. No one in their right minds would give half a million for an easy kill. But money was money, and she'd done hard kills for less money. After a moment of hesitation, Assassin spun on her heel.

"Now that's what I'm talking about."

Assassin crouched on the roof, staring into the glowing windows of the castle. A prince. It had been a while since Assassin had killed a royal- the heavy defenses and high risk made it a task she'd only once accepted. The knowledge had made Assassin hesitate- but that hesitation vanished when the man raised the prices to 700,000 without blinking an eye. Jesus. How important was this prince, anyways? He was in line to inherit a small kingdom- beneath most others' notice and unlikely to pose any threat. Oh well. In this business, Assassin had learned not to pry. It never went well. The last time she'd gotten involved... well, it hadn't gone the best. For her or the target. Better to keep out of it and just do the job.

The curtain moved, focusing Assassin's attention on it. She was perched on one of the castle's roofs- one that was relatively far away from the guard but close enough for her to use binoculars to see what she assumed was the prince's room. It was a strangely childlike room, with a regal look and a huge vaulted ceiling-but with decorations that seemed more fit for a toddler than an adult. The curtain was pulled aside by a woman- the queen, a tall middle aged woman with crease lines on her forehead- and pinned to the walls. The door slid open and the queen stood there, breathing in the night air. She turned suddenly, something pulling on her dress. A child's hand. Whose- As the queen turned, it hit her. The prince is a child.

Shit. In the years she'd been killing, Assassin had never touched children. She had lines, boundaries she didn't cross. Killing the bedridden, senile, children- that she didn't do. Her morality wasn't shattered enough to stoop that low. She could make money other ways.

Shit. Assassin silently cursed her stupidity. Why hadn't she asked for more details? The man had been cagey, nervous- but it wasn't unusual for new clients to be more reserved. The thing that should have tipped her off was when he'd refused to give her more information than the prince's hair color and eye color. She'd assumed- god, she should've known- that the prince was a young adult- at least past his teenage years and soon to inherit the throne. But not a child. His parents were unusually old for the prince's age, too; they must have had a child early.

It was a good thing this was a reconnaissance mission. She'd just have to go back and-

A sudden burst of movement from the window caught Assassin's attention. The woman was upset, waving her arms and moving around the room agitatedly. The prince just sat on the bed, head hung and feet dangling. What the hell? Assassin decided not to get involved. That was the best thing to do.

Don't get involved. Ignore it.

And then the queen slapped the child. Hard. Across the face.

From what Assassin could see, the child wasn't crying- only sitting, still dangling his legs over the edge of the bed like a doll. The queen was clearly screaming, pointing to something with her mouth moving. She slammed her hand on a table, still screaming about something, and grabbed the boy's legs, stopping their dangling motion. He didn't seem to be saying anything- but the woman was getting angrier and angrier by the second. She was throwing things now, hurling papers and books off of desks and smashing objects on the floor. The prince did nothing. Finally, the woman stormed off, a trail of destruction following her. The door slammed, and the little boy sat on the bed, crying.

Assassin was pissed. She didn't know what the argument was about, or why the queen thought she could slap her child. The boy looked young- what, five? Too young to be hit like that. And the fact that he hadn't started crying until his mother left the room made Assassin very doubtful of their relationship.

It's not my business. Assassin could feel the anger building up, boiling white-hot. Not my business. She remembered screams from a different time, bruises and cuts in places that couldn't be seen.

Just keep out of it. Yelling and the crashing sounds of things shattering echoing down the hallway. Sobbing, and the sound of skin thrown violently against skin. The metallic smell of blood.

No.

Assassin stood up carefully and started to climb down the roof.

It's my business now.

The next few days were a blur of preparation. What to do, how to handle the parents, where to go- and how to safely take the prince. How to remove the bounty on his head. How to get away without the retaliation of the man who'd paid her to kill this child. She'd have to plant a fake body, make a possible story- preferably one that pinned the parents. They deserved the worst.

The first step was sneaking into the castle and observing the situation more carefully. Their private lives were a cesspool of violence and rage. From father to mother, mother to son and father to son. Throwing things, hitting things, hitting people- everything was a target. Close servants, mistresses, even the unfortunate people who happened to find the king in his drunken rages. Everything was, of course, kept under wraps. It wouldn't do to have the royal family exposed for domestic violence and abuse. No, instead they always appeared as a perfect family. Even when the king was drunk, he was always sober enough to leave marks where no one else could see them. The queen wore long sleeves. So did the prince.

Assassin couldn't stand to watch their family for more than an hour. Except for the prince. She was extremely interested in him. He was seven, but looked a lot smaller than he should have. Probably because... well, Assassin didn't want to think about that. He studied constantly. Partly because of his parents and partly because of his own volition- his parents left him alone when he was studying.

It only took a day or so for Assassin to figure out the best plan to get the prince out after she'd figured out their schedules. She had to plant a fake dead body in the prince's room, bring him out through the window. Night was the best time- everyone was sleeping and the guard's visibility was much lower. But she had to act fast. The rotation was tight, with barely any breaks in their watches. She'd only been able to observe them from a fairly far away tower using her best gear, and only because the palace had such large windows. But the guards were also only human, and she'd slipped past castle defenses before.

That night was dark, a kind of pitch blackness that covered even the stars' piercing lights. The perfect night for Assassin, with even the moon only a sliver in the sky. Tonight was the night. She'd known the minute the sun went down and she could barely see past the end of her street. It was perfect.

She slipped past the guards fairly easily- only a few close calls that set her heart racing. Everything else was a breeze past that, the climbing not difficult as long as she stayed low. The prince's room was near another roof, the window and balcony protruding from it easily accessible. It was going too well.

Assassin finally made it onto the balcony, silently sliding through the open window. The queen had left it slightly open after she left the room, slamming the door as usual. The window was a tall one, a typical French Window leading onto a huge balcony. She stood in the prince's room for a moment, looking around to make sure she was alone before she walked quietly to the boy's bed. He was sleeping soundly, chest rising and falling steadily.

Assassin reached out a hand to his head.

Something grabbed her wrist suddenly. Assassin jolted in shock, twisting her wrist away instinctively.

The prince was sitting up in bed, staring at her.

"What are you doing?"

#assassin #ask #collab #check other person out #child person #palace #prince #royalty #terrible adults

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lazarettta · 3 years ago

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Misthios IV

Characters (Spartan!Reader x Mother Miranda)

Rating (T)

Word Count (3.4k)

Warnings (none I don't think)

You're up roaming around the castle and run into Miranda and Alcina.

It's been an exhausting but thrilling six months since you've gained the eye of this region's reigning ruler. Their Queen was ruthless as she was beautiful and you were quickly learning that she had a particular taste for blood that you haven't seen since your days in Sparta. Creative and cunning as she was, especially when it came to acts of revenge, but she took care of her kingdom and her people so long as they were loyal to her and her alone.

It was that last rule that forced you to discover just how cruel and destructive the mountains of Norway could be because you were tasked with chasing down a group of runaway slaves—as a punishment. This was different from your 'normal' punishments.

There was nothing special about these fucking slaves, they were just stupid enough to think it wise to steal from their Queen and then dare escape. It angered you so much that she'd send you on this quest when a small squadron of low ranked knights would've done fine.

It had taken you a week and two villages to finally catch up with them into the mountains. The conditions were harsher than what you were prepared for and you had to abandon half your gear and continue on foot. The cold was too much for your horse to handle, but he was old and you were sure to put him out of his misery before continuing on your hunt.

You'd caught them asleep in a cave a few miles away from a village that was tucked away into the mountain side. You purchased food and another horse, costing you all the silver you carried but it made your hunt easier and quicker. You hadn't been looking for the cave but a small fire through the thick of the trees caught your attention. Tying your new mare a distance away, you crept towards them, sticking to the tall grass and the shadows.

They'd all been sleeping so peacefully, even their so-called 'watcher'. It was almost too easy to just go and kill them quietly one by one...but Miranda had specific instructions for you to follow if you wanted her forgiveness. She wanted to hear them scream while she slept and that was exactly what you intended to deliver. You unsheathed one of your twin blades and with practiced ease, you swung right as the watcher’s eyes snapped open.

You were startled awake by a scream that you weren't sure if it was from your dream or if it was a real one. You sat up half way in the bed of the guest room you were put up in, leaning on your elbow ready to spring from beneath the sheets but nothing ever came. After another full five minutes of sitting and waiting with no result, you let yourself fall back onto the soft pillows and threw an arm over your eyes as they began to leak tears.

Nothing of sadness or the sort, you were simply exhausted—you were still in your clothing with your parka not too far away just in case you had to use the window for a quick escape. You even kept your boots on, even though it was too warm for you but you'd deal with it as you've been through more uncomfortable situations that couldn't even compare to simply being hot. Of course if you take off a few layers you'd be fine, but paranoia hasn't exactly been very kind to you in the past years...with good reason too. You hadn't died in over ten years and you planned to keep that streak going.

But even as those thoughts comforted you a bit, sleep evaded you—no longer finding you worthy of its pleasures and you just laid there sprawled out and tangled within the soft white linen sheets that were probably now dirty thanks to you. You didn't care. They probably had more somewhere.

Resigned to the fact that you'd probably never be able to go back to sleep, at least not any time soon, so pushed aside the heavy duvet and slipped out of the bed quietly. You moved towards the window but the only thing you could see was the few trees below and a land covered in blankets of undisturbed snow. A little further beyond the tree line, you saw smoke coming from the chimneys of the factory before you turned away from the view and left your room. You looked left and right of the hallway but there wasn't a sign of life to be found, not even that little maiden Alcina practically made your shadow. It was probably later than it actually felt and she was probably asleep...everyone probably was.

Checking your watch— ah, right. Miranda even took that. She took everything you could use as a weapon and it tickled you more than it annoyed you. Unsupervised, you can now take your time to feel your way around. You didn't get a chance to get a good look at everything before but now you did, and it was an opportunity to get to know the Lady of the castle. You'd long dismissed the thought that anything in this village was normal, it had more secrets and shadows than a horror book you guessed.

Walking through the halls of the second floor felt like a trip down memory lane—no particular region as most all castles were the same. Large and filled with fancy portraits and trinkets that could house and feed five families at a time. Carpet so plush and soft that you could feel it through your boots with each step. It absorbed your weight like a welcome home hug. Clearly Lady Alcina was a woman of finer things in life and that extended far outside of her wardrobe and preferred wines.

It just unnerved you how quiet everything was, a castle thing large and prosperous had to have staff minding it twenty four seven. Nonetheless, you finally came to the door that you recognized during your brief tour as the 'wine room'. Like everything else you'd come across, the door was finely made from dark red oak with gold trimmings—just like Alcina's stagecoach.

Without a second thought about it, you opened the door—simply with the intent of getting a better look at the wine collection the maiden mentioned during your tour. But that thought was cut short because the room wasn't as empty as the silence in the hallway led you to believe as you'd walked into a full conversation by two people; one you were hoping to avoid for a few days and the other you thought was asleep...or well away from your location. You were wrong on both accounts.

“Heisenberg is a blundering fool leading a pack of fleabags, Miranda. He is going to fail again!”

“And we don't have time to stress other options, especially that one! We're out of time already and—”

“Exactly we're out of time so just ask her—” you pushed the door open a little more and it creaked quietly.

They both turned to you and you stood frozen in the doorway, unsure of what to make of the scene in front of you or what you just overheard. Miranda and Alcina were sitting at the small table, well Miranda was, Alcina was sitting in one of her custom chairs a little further away and both women had two glasses filled with dark red wine. Alcina wasn't in her white dress anymore, instead she'd changed into a pair of dark slacks and deep red turtle neck and she was barefoot. A far cry from the regal dress she wore earlier but she still carried herself in the same manner.

You did your best not to think about how good Miranda looked without that damn mask on her face...even in those robes she still wore, Miranda was beautiful. Beautiful as the day you first met. You forced yourself to keep your attention on Alcina and not Miranda, who was now staring a hole into the side of your face like she was trying to will you into looking at her.

“Oh. Shit, I didn't know this room was occupied.”

Alcina glanced at Miranda briefly from behind her wine glass, her expression unreadable when she settled her eyes on you again, “Of course not, dear. Is everything alright?”

You cleared your throat, fighting the urge to look at Miranda because you could feel her trying to will your eyes in her direction, “No, actually I—”

You were interrupted by an ear piercing scream and high pitched laughter right behind her, on the verge of being hysterical. Lady Dimitrescu sighed heavily behind you and finished her wine before setting her glass down and rising to her full height.

“Please excuse me, it seems that my daughters are teasing the poor maids again.”

You started to comment that it didn't sound like it was teasing but you kept your mouth shut, knowing better than to stick your nose in the wrong place too soon—it never really turned out very well for you the first time. It would never cease to amaze you how fast and quiet Alcina moved despite her size, but it still baffled you that she hasn't ever gotten the doors to her own castle fixed to fit for her . But those thoughts were pushed to the far corners of your mind when the door clicked shut—leaving you alone in the room with Miranda, forcing you to acknowledge her now. You shoved your hands in your pockets and sighed, you weren't expecting to see her again so soon.

You still hadn't had time to get your shit together after the last time you two spoke, or more like argued back and forth. Easily falling into a pattern as if you hadn't been centuries apart. You still weren't sure how you were supposed to feel about that.

“Take a seat, (Y/n). Would you like a glass of wine?” Miranda broke the silence but she didn't break eye contact with you once she caught you eye, holding you as if she physically had her hands on your face. “We don't have to talk if you don't want to, (Y/n).”

“Oh, so now we're suddenly interested in what I want to do?”

“Yes, of course. Wine?”

You scoffed, rolling her eyes at her typical answer and you wanted to say no, you opened your mouth to do so but instead you were getting closer to the table she was sitting at. She poured you a glass of wine, and handed it to you. You raised an eyebrow, she couldn't have set it down for you? She insisted on handing it to you and the way Miranda was holding the glass left you no choice to place your hands over hers to take it from her. Those gold claw rings were ice cold against your skin and the edge of one nicked your skin but not deep enough to draw blood.

You had no idea what you wanted to say to Miranda, you weren't ready to talk about what you two needed to talk about but you weren't sure if you could sit here and do small talk with her over wine. It was so easy for you to get up and leave, maybe go back to your guest room and lock the door. So what was stopping you? Why was it difficult?

Miranda, who had been watching you intently, interrupted your rapid thoughts, “You always were a loud thinker, (Y/n).”

“Nothing interesting, trust me.”

“Oh I beg to differ,” Miranda chuckled, shifting in her chair slightly to angle herself towards you a little more. You sort of hated yourself for thinking how well she was pulling off the priestess look, “I could always tell what you were thinking even from a mile away. You were always quite the unique distraction.”

“You never complained before.”

“No,” she agreed, her voice dropping an octave or two lower, “though I doubt I ever will.”

You looked up, she didn't look away and you didn't know what to think. And for once, even if it was just for a moment, you saw a hint of uncertainty in her eyes.

“Miranda, what do you want? Why are you keeping me here?”

“Because we need to talk, (Y/n), to...clear the air as they say, I guess.”

“Yeah, okay, I got that part earlier,” you licked your suddenly dry lips, your nerves starting to buzz a little, “But that's not a good enough reason anymore.”

Miranda scoffed, actually rolling her eyes at you, “Why not? Closure heals the past. Doesn't it?”

“But what do you expect after that?”

“What do you?” she threw the ball back in your court as she refilled her own wine glass from a different bottle than what she used for your own, the wine she was using was a little darker and thicker. It didn't surprise you that the question was thrown back at you, she always did that when she was trying to keep the upper hand or get it.

But it didn't mean that the question wasn't a good one because what did you want after this? Would it even matter after all of this time? Have you ever forgiven her, really and truly moved on? Did she even care back then, did she care for you...or what you could do for her?

Miranda was watching you the entire time become lost in your thoughts, a trait you still carried with you. She picked up her wine glass and took a sip, her clear eyes taking you in while you were distracted enough to not notice her doing it so blatantly. You still looked the same as the last time she saw you, minus the murderous rage that had twisted your beautiful features that evening.

The modern world has touched many parts of you but your eyes still hold so much more than they did centuries ago. Being a warrior was now outdated and something of an historical myth but you still carried yourself as one, and Miranda could see new scars on your brown skin on the exposed skin she saw earlier on your neck and arms.

She'd been watching you for days before finally making herself known to you after going back and forth with herself during those agonizing days. Being far more irritable than she normally was and Miranda was positive that Lords Heisenberg and Moreau were quite sore with her at the moment. Well, Karl certainly would be. Seeing you made her angry...at first. Angry for the grief you left her with, the shatters you left her to pick up on her own.

Years of pent up thoughts and plans of revenge she'd enact when she got her hands on you came down to a single moment when she finally did get her hands on you and she couldn't do it. Miranda eyed your neck, where you should've still been bruised. She had you right where she needed you with one hand wrapped around your neck because you were so unsuspecting. It would've been so easy but she couldn't...so she knocked you out and threw you in a cell where she could keep a better eye on you. And perhaps no longer be so distracted from her work.

“Look who's thinking loud now.” you mumbled around the edge of your wine glass, finally taking a sip of the damn thing. Miranda wouldn't hesitate to bet that you assumed it was somehow poisoned even though you watched her open the bottle. “Good thoughts, I hope.”

Miranda hummed softly, “Do you really wish to know?”

You chuckled, and Miranda's eyes were drawn to the way your jaw clenched and unclenched when the wine hit your taste buds again, “With the way you were staring at my neck...it's not that hard to guess, Miranda.”

“You're only half right, my dear.” At your raised eyebrows, Miranda's smirk only widened, “My hands were wrapped around that strong neck again, but breaking it is far from my mind now .”

Your snort turned into a chuckle that was clearly infectious as Miranda joined you. Nothing was remotely that funny, if it was funny at all, but you were tired and the situation brought forth too many emotions for you, either of you to really process, and all you could was just...laugh.

Miranda was the first to sober up a bit though the smile never completely left her features. “Ah, and well... you know, it wouldn't do to try and kill the only other person on this wretched rock who knows me. Will it?”

You're very well the only person in this wretched world that will ever know the real me and still love me for it. Quite a miserable thought, isn't it?

You jumped when the door opened behind you and Alcina stepped into the room—you'd almost forgot where you were for a moment. Almost. Alcina took one look at the two of you, curious to find you actually still in the room much less sitting at the table sharing a glass of wine with Miranda. Especially with what she overheard earlier and how much tension you two create together.

Alcina knew that she interrupted something, probably something she had no business to but that did not stop her from sitting back down in her chair in her goddamn castle. And whatever drama that was happening within her territory was now her drama and she was going to get a front row seat. Alcina lit up another one of her cigarillos and pulled heavy before she released it in your direction.

“Running a business is quite the headache when no one else understands your vision, I swear. Don't have kids, (Y/n). They're messy and nothing but trouble.”

“Noted.” you forced a chuckle, not taking her bait but now you were trying to finish your wine as quickly as possible without seeming like you were trying to run.

“Well, how about it then, (Y/n)? Tell us a story, you couldn't have been a mercenary your entire life. Or have you?” You glanced at Miranda and saw that she was glaring at Alcina but the taller woman wasn't paying her any mind. And really, the only reason Miranda hasn't verbally intervened is because she was interested in your answer as well. Even if Alcina was asking just to poke at the situation for her own amusement.

“I've put away my shield and sword a long time ago,” you didn't bother to mention that you did keep them both in pristine condition just in case, “I've been enjoying the little things life has to offer.” lame. And a lie.

“Oh come now,” Alcina scoffed, not accepting your answer—it wasn't a very good one anyway, “That's—”

“Actually,” When it was clear that Miranda wasn't going to save you from this woman's nosiness (why would she?) You quickly drank the rest of the wine, it was really too sour for you, and rose from the chair. “I think I'll try to get some more sleep. Thanks for the wine and...yeah.” Could you be any more awkward?

Alcina was howling by the time the door slammed shut behind you and she took another pull from her cigarette stick, still paying no heed to Miranda's heated glare. “Oh, you're going to have to tie that one down if you want her to talk to you.”

“I will have your head if you stick your nose in my business again, Dimitrescu.”

“Then don't store your business in my castle.” Alcina shot back, meeting Miranda's glare head on but immediately conceded when she felt Miranda's growling through the vibrations of her glass in her hand that was still resting on the table. “Alright, alright...but you're always welcome to use my dungeons. Use chains though those biceps of hers could probably break through the ropes.”

“Alcina, that is enough!”

The Lady of the castle just laughed lightly until it tapered off into a pleasant hum around her famous Sanguis Virginis wine while watching Miranda readjust her face mask. Her eyes brighter than they have been the last few hours., Alcina pushed for one more question—deciding to risk Miranda's wrath, “How'd you ever let such a handsome creature slip between your fingers?”

Miranda sighed heavily, no pause in her strut to the door, “Egos and misunderstandings.” she was gone before the lock clicked into place.

I'm so sorry for being hella lazy, lol, I'll add the other chapters of this story today 😭😭😭😭

#resident evil 8 #mother miranda x reader #mother miranda #resident evil #resident evil village #lady alcina x reader #lady alcina #alcina dimitrescu #dis tew much #assassin's creed odyssey #simpin for these bishes

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butteraway · 4 years ago

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when time runs out | iv

⋆ summary: A young girl has fallen deeply ill with an unknown disease in her, so with all her free time spent in an empty hospital room, she spends it online playing video games. That's until she meets her cousins friends, one spiking her interest with his extremely vulgare language.

pairing: bakugou katsuki x reader

word count: 2.5k

warnings: none

authors note: I wanna say im so sorry for lying to yall about that extra chapter KJDFFF😭😭 ALSO @chibiiichann I APOLOGIZE FOR SPAMMING YOU WHENEVER I REPLIED TO YOU💀 A DIFFERENT ACC WOULD POP UP BUT THE FIRST CHAPTER WAS AN INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER EXPLAINING THE OC'S CONDITION JFJDJD

"HAHA! I GOTCHU NOW LOSER!" Y/N smashed the buttons on her controller, basically on the edge of her bed. A grunt was heard through her headphones, then a loud bang with laughing in the background. Y/N felt her stomach turn at the sound of this, feeling a little left out, but smiled nonetheless.

"HOW'D YOU EVEN DO THAT?!! YOU’RE DOING SOME HACKING MY GUY!" Denki yelled through the laughing in the background, hands pulling at his hair. He seriously couldn't believe it!

"I'm not! I just wanted to show Sero I'm way better at this game than you are. And turns out I am!" Y/N let out a loud laugh, falling backwards onto her pillow. After finding out that 'Tape Dispenser' went to her cousin’s school by hearing his voice in the back of Denki's room, she got to learn more about this Sero dude. She already knew this after their last game a few nights ago, but he was so chill. It was still insane for her to find out that her cousin and online friend went to the same hero school. The coincidences in this world. Y/N thought as she grinned.

"It's okay Kaminari, you still lasted a long time! But you did get brutally beat by Y/N at the end though..." Sero said, trying to raise Denki's low spirits, but only succeeded in making him more miserable. Rustling was heard through Y/N's headphones, making it obvious that there was movement happening.

"You don't understand Sero! THIS IS THE ONLY GAME I COULD FULLY BEAT THIS GIRL IN!" Denki shook Sero by the shoulders, quickly doing the action. Cackling was heard through the speakers while the girl wiped a tear from her eye. Sero laughed along, as he was pushed to the ground by Denki. His arms were crossed as he looked away, upset that Y/N managed to finally beat him in every game they played.

"It's okay Denki, not everyone can be as good as me!" Y/N exclaimed, getting up from her bed to start taping specific parts of her room. Kaminari continued to complain about his defeat to Sero, who only chuckled in response. As she finished taping the bottom of the walls, Y/N sat back on her bed, sighing in content.

"So, how are you? I'm doing terribly after being utterly destroyed by you, by the way." Said Kaminari, opening his water bottle and taking large gulps from it. Y/N felt her face light up as she remembered to tell Kaminari of her future activity.

"Bro, you won't believe this! So, basically, they're actually letting me paint my room! All by myself! How fricking cool is that?!" The girl laughed out loud, jumping on her bed in excitement. Kaminari's eyes widen, in surprise and slight fear, sitting up and taking in the new information.

"Wait, really? But isn't that like extremely dangerous? Cuz of the chemicals and what not??" He tried his best to keep his voice leveled, not noticing Sero look at him weirdly. That guy had no idea what was happening.

"Well, they said that they were gonna do something to the paint so it won't hurt me or anything, I don't know what, but-" Y/N was cut off by an extremely confused Sero. "Wait wait wait, hold on. I don't understand what's happening. How can paint harm you? Besides like...eating it. And what do you mean by 'finally getting to paint your room?’ Silence was the only answer he got. Sero gulped in embarrassment, thinking he asked a really personal question.

"Um, it's nothing du-" A loud 'shhhhhhh' was heard from Y/N, who let out a shaky breath. She never really told anyone, it's not like she could either way, being confined in the hospital room for a long time. She pushed a loose strand of her away from her face, preparing herself to tell Sero.

"Well, the reason is because I basically live in a hospital. I can't go outside, or have 'unpurified' air, as the doctors like to say, meaning my interactions with people and the outside world are extremely limited. That means anything that's not cleared of dust and germs, I guess, can be extremely harmful for me? As pathetic as it sounds, it could actually kill me, haha." It was quiet as Sero took in the information, a large wave of emotions crashing on him. A person shouldn't have to be locked in a room for the rest of their life. Especially someone who is such a sweet person like Y/N.

"I-I'm so sorry to hear that Y/N. If you don't mind me asking, how...how long have you been in the hospital?" The young girl answered with a quick 'Two years', and that's when Sero felt his stomach twist uncomfortably. Kaminari abruptly got up and headed towards his door.

"I'm gonna get something to eat, you want something dude?" Kaminari's voice was low and trembling. It didn't take a genius to see that the blonde haired boy needed some time alone. "No thanks." Kaminari let out a hum, quickly exiting his room and closing the door shut. Sero heard the loud sniffs that slowly faded away, as he hung his head down.

"Hey, you good Sero? That was probably a lot to take in, sorry." Sero shook his head, letting a sad smile adorn his face. "It's fine, really. I actually feel honored that you're comfortable telling me. Feels like we're getting closer, to be honest." He smiled happily, meaning every word he said. And Y/N knew that. "Ha, we are though!" The air was tense, despite the two teenagers being in different rooms.

Y/N went to clear her throat, but was interrupted when a light knock echoed throughout her room. "Someone there?" Sero asked, noticing her silence and hearing the very faint knocking.

"Yeah, um Sero, I'll call you guys later, my doctor wants to talk." Y/N quickly replied, seeing Receen open the door and walk in with his thin suit on. Sero let out an ok and they hang up. Y/N finally took in how the doctor looked, noticeable eye bags under his blue-grey eyes, from lack of sleep. His dark hair slightly tousled, probably from putting on the protective helmet that came with the suit, and a small smile on his welcoming face. And a large container of paint in his left hand. Her eyes immediately lit up.

"What’s up doc? I see you have something in your hand, can I see it closer?" The small girl asked, getting up and making a grabbing motion with her hands. Receen chuckled, lifting up the paint for Y/N to see. Even if he were to hand her the container, she wouldn't be able to hold. She was just too weak. Said girl let out a high pitch 'OOOO ' in excitement.

"I'm not sure if you wanted more, but we managed to get you your favorite color! This should be enough to paint the room, you can even put a second layer if you want." Receen walked over to where Y/N put all the equipment, opening the container of paint. And with a low grunt from him, the lid was opened. Y/N watched with amazement as the doctor poured the soft looking paint into a tray. She picked up a roller near her, and drowned the roller in paint, the white fluff getting covered in color.

The two began painting, Y/N's hand shaking every now and then. After painting half the room, they sat in silence, resting for a while. Receen seemed to be tense, though Y/N didn't seem to notice since she was too happy to speak. Receen let out a breath, breaking the silence, causing Y/N to look towards him.

"I didn't get to ask you how you were, did I Y/N? How are you?" Said girl let a beaming smile spread on her face, causing Receen to slightly squint his eyes from the intensity of her smile. "Honestly, I haven't felt this happy in a very long time! I actually still can't believe you guys really let me do this! Thank you so much!"

Receen gave her a small smile while rubbing the back of his neck. "It's not a problem, you could’ve asked sooner and gotten this done a long time ago. You've been here for two years, so please don't be afraid of asking for things!" At the mention of her time spent in the hospital, Y/N lowered her head, causing Receen to wince. Well, might as well tell her. The doctor cleared his throat and began to talk.

"Y/N, as you are aware, I, along with many other doctors and scientists, have been working hard for you to be able to go outside again. To see your family, hug them, be a normal kid again." There was a pause and that alone caught Y/N's attention. She looked up at him. "There is a way for you to finally do that, Y/N."

Shock evident on the girl's face, she abruptly stood up and faced the doctor. There was absolutely no way anyone could have found a cure for someone like her. Someone who had an incurable sickness. Someone who was too sick, to even have medicine. He's lying. Y/N narrowed her eyes at the grown man sitting in front of her.

"With all due respect Doctor, I highly doubt that that's possible. Cuz, y'know? I basically have an incurable disease? I mean, like, even if you did manage to find a way for me to leave this place, how do you even know it's gonna work? I don't think you've tried this medicine since no one in recorded hospital documents in the past have had people like that checked in before-"

"How do you even know that?"

"-so how do you truly know it'll work?" Y/N quickly finished, completely ignoring his statement. Receen sighed, scratching his head. "We live in a world where quirks exist. Would you believe me if I told you centuries ago that the human race would evolve to have super powers? It's kind of like that, but not really." Y/N eyed him suspiciously. He's avoiding the question.

Receen looked straight at the girl standing in front of him. He felt slightly intimidated by her piercing gaze. He quickly looked away and got up, towering over Y/N's small frame. Then he smiled. "Y/N, you are a very sweet girl, no doubt about it. I know how much you want to get out of here, and I want to help you. My team has created this almost perfect pill, especially suited for your sickness. I know you're very cautious, just like your mother, but I can only reassure you, that these are your ticket out of here." He pulled out the bottle from his protective suit, shaking it in front of [Y/N].

Her eyes widened as she restrained herself from reaching out and snatching the bottle. Her eyes slightly narrowed as she pulled herself together. Crossing her arms and slightly tilting her upwards, she looked into the doctor's bright eyes. "There's always a catch when it comes to these kinds of things. What's the price if I take these? My lifespan shortens, I only have five hours to go outside, it drugs me or something?"

"I'm hurt you think I would just give you these without setting out the consequences." There was a slight glint in his eyes before it quickly disappeared. Y/N hummed, urging the doctor to continue.

"There are exactly 15 pills in here. And consuming just one of these bad boys right here, would allow you to go outside! Though, time is very important when taking these. You'd have 10 hours before the pills effects wear off. These would dull your hypersensitive senses, but not to a point where you can't feel, smell or do anything. No no, it'd just be like how you were before. You'd feel slightly dizzy and be a little itchy, but besides that, nothing too extreme. It just dulls all your body senses down." Receen gave Y/N a small smile. She looked a little weary, unsure if what he said was true. She looked at the bottle then back to Doctor Receen, fingers twitching every now and then. Breathing in and letting it out slowly, Y/N stared straight into the doctor's eyes.

If I take these, I can finally go out. I can hug mom and dad, I can be around Denki again. I can meet Sero face to face and feel the grass again! I can be... happy again. But if these don't actually work, I'd immediately die on the spot. I'd be able to go outside though. Aah, so much going outside, I can meet new people! I don't wanna spend the rest of my days slowly rotting away in here anyway.

"So Y/N, are you going to take them or let all our time go to waste?"

Sero looked at his hands solemnly, thinking about what Y/N had told him. He swallowed the lump forming in his throat, then lightly slapped his cheeks to stop the wave of emotions from spilling out.

"Yo, you good dude? It's not everyday I see someone willingly slapping themselves." Kaminari chuckled, walking in and closing the door with his foot as he carried a soda bottle and a bag of chips towards the boy sitting on his bed. Sero grinned, feeling the sadness of everything wash away.

"Yeah, I'm perfectly fine. But what about you though? After we had that conversation, you were, well, umm... kind of out of it." Kaminari froze, letting a dejected smile appear on his face. Dragging a hand down his face, he let out a sorrowful laugh.

"She's my best friend. My first real, true friend. She's basically my sister at this point. So when she collapsed that day, I felt my whole world crashing down. She is the sweetest, the most kindest, person I have ever met. She never let me degrade myself, alway cheered me up when people called me stupid." Kaminari rubbed his eyes, opening the bag of chips and plopping one of them into his mouth.

"It hasn't been the same ever since she left, her parents barely come over anymore, and they're always so sad whenever I see them. My own parents aren't the same either, they treated her like their own daughter. I can't even begin to imagine how Y/N feels about this all. She was the top in our grade, highest scores in our test. No one could compare to her. M-my heart breaks for her. She lost everything." Sero let that information sink in, thinking about how she was before. He smiled as he saw Kaminari's shoulders begin to shake. He cares so much for her.

He put his hand on his shoulder, watching Kaminari slowly lift his face towards him. "Come here you emotional ball of feelings." Being the friendly guy he is, Sero gave the sobbing boy a hug, cuz hugs fix everything.

"No homo though bro." And with that, they both laughed out loud, continuing their bro day.

#bakugou katsuki #bakugou #bakugou x reader #bakugou katuski x reader #mha #bnha #mha angst #bnha fluff #bnha x reader #fanfic

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lokigodofaces · 3 years ago

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Anti-Sex Bed

Characters: several Loki variant OCs, Mobius M Mobius Word Count: 2818 Description: Several Loki variants compete in their respective sports in the Tokyo 2020 Summer Olympics. And, naturally, they must destroy the cardboard anti-sex beds. Warnings: mentions of sex (there is no sex whatsoever here), crack fic My Fanfiction Wattpad, Quotev, Ao3

“The madmen really did it. They really built beds from cardboard. All to stop sex,” Basketball Loki says to his variant, Volleyball Loki. With another variant of themselves unleashing the multiverse, infinite Lokis came into existence. Some of the less well known variants are all gathered in Tokyo in 2021 for the Summer Olympics. It took some time, figuring out how to get them all together. It also took some convincing of the International Olympic Committee to allow some of the sports played in the group of variants to be part of the Olympics. But it is all worth it, for them all to compete in the Olympics together, even if they can’t compete showing their own faces.

“Why are they doing this again?” Volleyball Loki asks.

“To stop sex, I just said so.”

“I know that, but why? Why do they think the idea of a bed collapsing under people is going to stop anyone. You don’t need a bed to have sex, and I’m sure there’s at least one person that likes the idea of the bed breaking underneath them.”

“I like the idea of the bed breaking underneath me, only not in a sexual context,” Basketball Loki says, standing up on the bed. “How many jumps do you think it will take to break?”

“Three at the most. It’s cardboard, the most flimsy material they could’ve used. Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if some of the beds would break under the pressure of someone sleeping,” Volleyball Loki responds, watching as Basketball Loki starts to jump. One, two, three. “It’s still standing?”

“Clearly.”

“Does it feel damaged at all?”

“Not at all.” Basketball Loki jumps higher and higher, hoping to gain more force. “Want to join?”

Now intrigued, Volleyball Loki steps onto the bed and jumps along with Basketball Loki. “Nothing, really? Let’s time our jumps, land on the bed at the same time. One...two...three...jump!”

Nothing. The bed still stands, even after Basketball and Volleyball Lokis try several more times.

“What are you two doing?” Softball Loki asks as she walks into the room. “Or is there no difference between three and fifteen hundred?”

“You heard these are supposed to break during sex. They were apparently designed for very rough sex,” Basketball Loki answers. “Want to join?”

“If not, get some others of us to help, please. I am very interested in what we need to do to break this supposed fragile bed,” Volleyball Loki adds.

Softball Loki leaves the room to soon return with all the present Loki variants: Trampoline, Judo, Cycling, Skeet, Rifle, Pistol, Equestrian, Fencing, Kayak, Karate, Taekwondo, Archery, Gymnastics, Diving, Skateboarding, Climbing, and Surfing Lokis.

“I get the feeling someone should be fired if this is an anti-sex bed,” Pistol Loki says, seeing the unharmed bed and the two Lokis jumping on it.

“Anyone want to join us?” Volleyball Loki asks. Soon enough, as many Lokis as they can fit are on the bed, all jumping together. Jumping in time to try to create more force at once. They switch out Lokis every couple minutes so that everyone has a chance to break it.

The bed still stands.

“Someone definitely needs to be fired,” Pistol Loki repeats, now that the bed has proved even more durable.

“Everyone off, I want to try some things,” Trampoline Loki shouts. All the Lokis jump off and Trampoline Loki starts jumping a little on the bed. Then he starts doing his routine for the Olympics on the bed.

Nothing.

“I’ll get up with you,” Gymnastics Loki offers. They start doing their own routine alongside Trampoline Loki’s. Multiple flips and twirls and jumps are performed on the completely undamaged bed.

“What in Asgard is this made out of?” Trampoline Loki asks.

“Cardboard.”

“I’m beginning to doubt that, Gymnastics.”

“Anyone else have ideas?” Gymnastics Loki asks.

“Judo, Karate, shall we?” Taekwondo Loki asks in answer to Gymnastics Loki. He stands on the bed, joined by Judo and Karate Lokis.

“What exactly are you going to do?” Volleyball Loki wonders aloud.

“Well, we’ve been wondering which of us would win if we all stick to our respective sports,” Karate Loki admits. “May as well learn on top of a cardboard bed in the hopes that it will break underneath us.” The three get into their beginning stances and the fight begins. All three of them get hit a fair amount, and all fall onto the bed at least once before getting back up. In the end, Judo Loki wins.

But all three lose to the still standing bed.

“This is becoming ridiculous,” Fencing Loki states. “Get off, I’m going to weaken the structure with my sword, then when we jump on it it’ll break.” The martial arts Lokis jump off the bed and Fencing Loki goes to work. He repeatedly stabs the bed all over, easily slicing through cardboard. When he is finished, he jumps up onto the bed.

“It...it should be broken now.” He jumps harder. “Anyone want to help?” Basketball, Volleyball, Trampoline, Gymnastics, and Diving Lokis all jump onto the bed to help Fencing Loki.

The bed still stands.

“Keep jumping. Maybe I can help weaken the support,” Softball Loki says, pulling a softball out of her pocket dimension. As the other Lokis jump, she repeatedly pitches the ball at the legs of the bed, hoping to get at least that toppled over.

It’s as if the bed doesn’t even notice the high velocity ball being repeatedly thrown at it.

“Maybe it will help if the puncturing object is still in the bed,” Archery Loki suggests. Once everyone is off the bed, she starts firing arrows at the bed wherever she can get them to pierce. Satisfied, she jumps onto the bed to find no consequences. “Could you get back on?” The jumping team of Lokis assembles. They jump away, all in vain.

The bed still stands.

“Everyone off. Pistol, want to help?” Rifle Loki says as they summon their .22 rifle.

“Certainly,” Pistol Loki says as she summons her .22 pistol. The two stand a foot away from the bed and fire until the magazines are empty.

“Let’s try jumping again,” Rifle Loki tells the other Lokis, many of which getting on the bed and jumping to no avail.

“Higher caliber?” Pistol Loki suggests, pulling out a .44 magnum from her pocket dimension.

“Worth a try,” Rifle Loki agrees as they summon a .50 BMG. Once everyone is off the bed again, they begin firing. These firearms have larger magazines, allowing more ammunition to be fired. Additionally, they are much more powerful firearms. The other Lokis watch as cardboard goes flying, expecting this to be the end for the poor bed.

But the bed still stands, looking much better than they expected.

Once again, several Lokis pile onto the bed and jump, hoping the gunfire weakened it enough for them to break it by jumping. Their hope is misplaced.

“Skeet, your shotgun will distribute the force over a wider area,” Pistol says. “Maybe that’s what we need.”

Skeet nods and conjures his 12 gauge shotgun. “Step back behind me,” he demands.

“You aren’t going to fire next to the bed?” Kayak Loki asks.

“That’s not how shotguns work, Kayak,” Skeet Loki says as Pistol and Rifle Lokis roll their eyes. “Rifles and pistols fire bullets. Singular projectiles. Shotguns fire shot. Lots of tiny metal balls that disperse, tearing the target to shreds. But they won’t disperse enough if I’m practically touching the bed.” When he finishes explaining, Skeet begins firing.

“I don’t see a lot of ‘tearing the target to shreds,’” Kayak Loki says, pointing to the still intact bed.

“Can we step back and wonder how we got into this?” Skateboard Loki asks. “Someone decides that athletes can’t have sex, so they order carboard beds because surely they’d break. So that meant we had to try to break the bed, but obviously none of us wanted to use sex to do so. And here we are now, Skeet shooting the bed and nothing happens.”

“Do you have any ideas?” Equestrian Loki asks.

“Yes, but I am starting to have my doubts it’ll do anything. Anyone want to assist in carrying the bed?”

If there is one thing universal about Lokis, it’s that if there is random chaotic destruction with little consequence to be done, they will do their part. Skateboard Loki leads the others to a tall staircase, at least twenty feet tall. Once they see the railing, the Lokis all know what Skateboard Loki plans to do. Luckily, he shouldn’t be able to hurt himself too much. Skateboard Loki runs up to the top of the stares, conjuring his skateboard. In a moment, he is sliding down the railing, once again, a twenty feet drop. He lands on top of the bed. The wheels can’t roll on it, so he topples to the ground.

“Are you hurt?” Judo Loki asks, more out of politeness than concern, not being worried for Skateboard Loki’s Asgardian body.

“Only slightly more damaged than the bed, it seems,” Skateboard Loki answers as Archery Loki helps him up. “Any other ideas?”

“Move the skateboard. I doubt this will do anything, but I may as well contribute with my sport,” Cycling Loki shouts from the top of the stairs. Skeet Loki grabs the skateboard and hands it to Skateboard Loki when he gets to his feet. The Lokis watch as Cycling Loki runs back a ways, out of their sight. He comes back a second later, speeding along on his bike, flying into the air when he gets to the stairs. And then he lands very violently on the bed, him and the bike falling down.

As you can probably guess, the bed still stands.

“How is this bed not broken yet?” Cycling Loki asks as Skateboard Loki helps him and the bike up.

“Move the bed to that building over there,” Climbing Loki responds, pointing to a nearby building. “The bottom half is relatively climbable. I’ll climb up and let go.”

And soon enough, Climbing Loki is at the top of the climbable section of the building. The Lokis all know he’ll survive, likely without injury. The perks of being Asgardian. They all watch as Climbing Loki plummets onto the bed.

“This isn’t particularly good at cushioning your fall, if any of you were curious. But still very much intact.” Climbing Loki looks around at the Lokis in front of him. “Where is Diving Loki?”

“Get off the bed, Climbing!” Diving Loki shouts from the very top of the building.

“What in hel are you doing?!” Karate Loki shouts up at them.

“Dive two thousand feet onto that bed!” The Lokis all know Diving Loki is mad enough to do because they each are themselves. Once Climbing Loki gets off the bed, Diving Loki jumps. It takes noticeably longer for them to hit the bed than Climbing Loki did.

The bed doesn’t receive any noticeable damage.

“What in the name of the Norns is wrong with this bed!” Diving Loki shouts.

“Maybe the answer isn’t a Loki landing on the bed,” Equestrian Loki starts. “Did any of you ever hear the story Midgard tells about us and a horse?”

“Hel no!” Basketball Loki shouts. “We are not letting you do that!”

“Dear heavens, no, I’m not going to have sex with my horse!” Equestrian Loki responds immediately. “I am going to ride my horse and we’ll jump on the bed.”

“Then don’t allude to that myth!” all the Lokis shout, or slight variations of this phrase.

Regardless, the Lokis take the bed to the stable. Equestrian Loki gets onto his horse and rides around with him for a moment before riding towards the bed and urging the horse to jump on. (No, you cannot argue this is the closest the Lokis got to having sex on the bed. If you do, I’m sure Equestrian Loki will find a way to our universe to kill you. And you would deserve it).

And it seems that the anti-sex beds can hold the weight of an Asgardian and a horse at once without breaking.

“If the designer were trying to make an indestructible bed, they would have succeeded,” Gymnastics Loki starts. “But they well and truly failed at making a flimsy bed.”

“Maybe force isn’t going to be what breaks the bed. Which, yes, makes it a worthless anti-sex bed, but I’ve gone beyond that and want to just break it now. But what if we weakened the cardboard and then stood on it. It would surely break.” Kayak Loki reasons.

“What do you suggest?” Equestrian Loki asks, returning from leading his horse back to the stable.

“I believe it is time for Kayak and I to use our sports,” Surfing says.

“Shouldn’t we have Basketball and Volleyball do something before we soak the bed, if we’re insisting on using sports to break it?” Softball Loki asks.

“Hey, we were the ones that roped you in,” Volleyball retorts.

“Have you ever watched a basketball or volleyball game? Jumping is important, and we’ve been jumping on the bed after each of you attempt to do anything. Besides, if a shotgun does nothing, I doubt a basketball or volleyball will do anything,” Basketball adds.

“Fair enough,” Softball says. “I was hoping to put the bed under a hoop and watch you jump onto it to dunk a basketball.”

“Oh, I’m sure it will be a team building exercise sometime this week for us. You’re welcome to watch.”

The Lokis then go to the kayaking revenue. Kayak Loki conjures a paddle and pushes the bed into the river before jumping on and paddling away. “Surfing, how do you think this will go?” Rifle Loki asks.

“Well, the bed is slightly better than a bed made of paper. The cardboard will soak up the water and lose its durability. The bed could get destroyed underneath Kayak now. If not, it should break if someone stands on it,” Surfing Loki explains.

“Yes, it’s also supposed to break under the pressure of sex. I’m starting to think that’s not the case,” Trampoline responds.

“Only starting now?”

Kayak Loki paddles up to them and jumps onto shore. “Should be wet enough now.” He pulls the bed onto dry land and stands on it. Nothing happens. They start jumping. “Anyone that wants to join may.” Soon the bed is full of Lokis.

Despite the laws of physics, that bed still stands.

“Is it going to be any different if you surf on it?” Fencing Loki asks.

“The waves might be helpful. But I doubt it’ll do much.” Despite their doubts, the Lokis find themselves at the beach, Surfing Loki riding out on the bed towards the deeper ocean. When he gets to where the bigger waves are, he stands and surfs across the water on the wave. Which brings him back to the shore with a very much intact bed. Even after the Lokis take turns jumping, the only difference between now and when they first started is the wetness and holes from bullets, arrows, shot, and a sword.

“How about we all admit that none of our sports can destroy these beds,” Surfing Loki starts. “I have a friend, he’s a driver for NASCAR. I’m certain he’d love to assist us with his car.”

The next day, after all the Lokis are finished competing and training, they go to meet Surfing Loki’s friend. “How did you meet him?” Taekwondo Loki asks.

“He’s obsessed with jet skis. I see him all the time when I surf. Honestly, if jet ski sports were more common than they are, I am certain he would abandon car races and move to jet ski races,” Surfing Loki answers. “And here he is.”

A sleek race car rolls up to them and stops. “Loki, how am I not surprised that you called me to help you destroy something for the sake of destruction?”

“Well, Mobius, it’s not my fault someone decided we needed to sleep on ‘flimsy’ cardboard beds. They were practically begging for this to happen.”

“And yet you haven’t managed to break it? Or the rest of you Lokis?”

“No, we have not,” Diving Loki answers. “But running it over may do some damage.”

“Alright, let’s put it out over there, and I’ll speed over it.” Mobius responds.

“Fair warning, we have done everything from using it as a surfboard to putting a horse on it. Don’t be surprised if your car doesn’t break it,” Gymnastics Loki warns.

“If I can’t break it, then this bed is indestructible.” Mobius gets into his car and revs the engine. “KACHOW!” he shouts as the car goes zooming off to the bed. The car goes over the bed and decelerates to a stop. Mobius steps out of the car and looks behind him. “Less of an anti-sex bed, more of a sex-proof bed.”

#loki laufeyson #loki variants #mobius m mobius #asexual loki #genderfluid loki #my fanfiction #anti-sex bed

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sayonarasanity · 4 years ago

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windmill

this fic is based on the song Windmill by Lor (and I highly recommend you to listen to it while reading especially or later for it is an incredible song)

AO3

summary: Here is the thing about Levi, his heart is a windmill in the middle of a wilderness where there was no wind to make it twirl, there was no wind to make it beat, pound and feel. Just feel.

Until one day he got hit by a storm so wild, so rare and so incredibly terrifying but in the most beautiful and breath-taking way that it left him defenceless, vulnerable and weak. Like a tiny little flower which had long passed its day of blossoming in a fierce, winter dawn yet it stood erect with its fragile body, challenging against the merciless winds and the brutal frost.

He fell in love.

Windmill, are you still afraid of nothing?

Here is the thing about human life, it isn’t everlasting.

But what is? The world and each and everything within it are mundane. The day is doomed with the night, the sun is doomed with the moon, life is doomed with death, men are doomed with gravity. If something starts, then it is fated to end. It is a vicious circle, living that is. Waking up only to sleep again at night. Earning money only to spend it an hour later on a trouser which you thought was necessary but maybe it wasn’t. Cooking for hours and hours just so you can eat it in mere ten minutes because your body needs food so that you can keep on living, living and living.

Like a windmill, turning, turning and turning to the day when there is not even a breeze to swirl you and you are frozen, unspoken and rigid.

And here is the thing about Levi, his heart is a windmill in the middle of a wilderness where there was no wind to make it twirl, there was no wind to make it beat, pound and feel. Just feel.

He fell in love.

And he fell in love not like jumping to death from a high up building, piercing through the clouds. It wasn’t as quick as that. He fell in love as if he had jumped into a river. It was slow and it hurt during the process of acknowledging it. Like accepting the fact that you were dying. Yet, instead of fighting against it, he welcomed the embrace of the water like he welcomed his mother’s hold. He let the arms wrap around him firmly. Then gradually the snow cold changed to sunny warm and the heavy water he thought that choked him turned into fresh, light air.

And he fell in love rather quietly, but he fell in love deep. Then his heart started to move and twirl with the wind.

She was the whirlwind, and he was the windmill. She was wild, sturdy and destructive. When he waited motionless and steady for merely a breeze to touch his vane, she had brought him a storm.

And he got carried away with it.

“Why do you keep looking at that thing?” She asks one day when they are in his apartment and he stands in front of one of his shelves in the living room.

“It’s a windmill,” he explains, taking his eyes away from the scale model of it to focus them on her.

“I know that,” she says. The shelf is not that high, so she puts her hands on the edge of it and rests her chin on top of her hands. “I wonder if there is a specific meaning behind it.”

“Like what?”

She shrugs and blows, making the vanes of the windmill move slightly. “Like a memory or… a specific reason that only you know, but you don’t want anybody else to learn.”

He raises a brow. “Then why do you ask?”

“I am a curious one, you know,” she smirks. The afternoon sun highlights her eyes and plays with the colour of her short hair which ends just above her shoulders. Some strands of her brown hair shine a sweet red. It is tied slovenly behind with a little hairpin. “And I would like to learn about my boyfriend’s secrets.”

Right, boyfriend. Apparently, by some miracle or a dice tossed by luck or during a single second in which God or whoever had a tiny pity on him or because of a good-hearted, gentle and humane ancestor of his she had loved him back.

“There is no secret,” he looks back at the little maquette. There is really no secret behind it. He had made it himself about four or five years ago when he was still at college, studying architecture. It was just that with time it had gained a place more special and a meaning more solid and a presence heavier.

“Is that so?” she asks, raising her brows and smiling lips pressed, playfully. “Rest assured, I won’t get offended if it’s a gift from one of your earlier lovers.”

“I don’t have earlier lovers,” he deadpans, glaring at her sideways.

“What is it then?” She straightens and comes closer, dropping her chin on his shoulder. He spares a few seconds just staring at her inquisitive eyes, demanding answers. His heart beats calm, and he hears its pounds and feels its vibrations. Because of her…

Is the wind still your friend?

“I liken it to my heart,” he looks away, already regretting the words that left his mouth out of command.

There is a pause in the air and faint pink on his cheeks. “Oh,” she reacts at last.

He cannot move his eyes to her this time, as the silence stretches like a furry, tired cat and it nerves him with each tick-tock he hears from the watch that is hung on the wall. It lasts so long that in the end, he shifts uncomfortably, and Hanji lifts her chin from his shoulder, her eyes, clouded and thoughtful behind her glasses, are focused on the windmill.

“I see,” she says.

The next day she brings a propeller, almost the same size as the windmill and places it next to it. When she turns it on, the vanes of the scale model twirl slowly.

Then she looks at Levi who is standing still and astonished. The wind howls in his ears, and his heart beats unsteady because it faces the same storm again. Vicious, wild and free.

And she smiles because she knows.

Levi doesn’t exactly know or rather remember but they end up drunk as hell on one Saturday night.

They are outside, stumbling together towards the coast road where benches are lined up side by side. The air smells like early summer, with newly blossoming flowers and salt. There is a full moon above the sea, and it reflects argent on the surface of the dark, tranquil water. People walk by every now and then and there are stray dogs and cats around.

When they somehow manage to sit down on an empty bench, Hanji slips and puts her head on his lap facing the pitch-black sky. She giggles to herself as she watches the stars there are barely visible because of the city lights. “So pretty.”

“Hmm,” he approves, observing her relaxed features, coloured cheeks and the goofy grin on her face.

“Hey, Hanji,” he rolls out of her tongue. He doesn’t even think or plan on what to say. The following words just stumble their ways out of his mouth. “You are—did you know that I couldn’t drink tea without some honey in it?”

She moves her eyes to his and giggles again, covering her mouth with her hand. “Yes, I realized.”

“Oh,” he blinks as if it’s enough to scatter the clouds in his head. But— whatever. It doesn’t matter now. When he has the stars and moon above, the sea ahead and the girl he loves lying on his lap. “Don’t tell anyone. Nobody knows.”

She nods and draws an invisible zip on her mouth.

“You know why?” He pushes her glasses up her nose. “The reason why I can’t… drink it without honey?”

Hanji lifts her shoulders up. “Because it tastes like piss without it?”

“Yes.” He is a little surprised at her guessing it right.

“But Levi,” she laughs. “How do you know what piss tastes like?”

“I don’t—I just know.” He closes her mouth with his hand when her laughter keeps interrupting his sentences. “Shut up, idiot. You are ruining the moment.”

To his surprise, she wraps her fingers around his wrist and kisses his palm. He breathes and his stomach moves as if he was in a car and suddenly rode down a hill. She closes her eyes tightly once to indicate that she is listening.

“Okay,” he goes on. “So, I can’t drink tea without honey because it tastes like piss.” He inhales, despite his drunken haze. He probably won’t even remember—or will he? How drunk is he anyway? Oh, well. Doesn’t matter.

“That’s… how my life would be.” Miracles happen. While sober he would rather die than utter these words out loud. Maybe it’s a good thing that he is tanked up. Because she deserves to learn. “Without you.”

Her are eyes wide open, and Levi thinks there are galaxies hidden in them. He doesn’t know if there is anything that is infinite or a life that would last forever. Does forever even exist? Does the sky have an end or space a beginning? Humans are such incapable creatures. Cannot go back a day before or has no idea what will happen a second later. Hanji is a human being, flesh, bone, blood and a little too much brain, a little too many feelings, and sentiments. And she is not indefinite, at all. But somehow, she makes him feel like she is.

“Levi,” she says, pulling his hand away from her mouth. Her eyes are still big behind her glasses and her cheeks are even redder than before. “Does this mean you’re going to call me honey from now on?”

And somehow, she manages to annoy him with every goddamn chance she gets.

He frowns and pushes her shoulder, almost making her fall down the bench. She is bursting with laughter in seconds and wraps her arms around his waist to secure herself and buries her face in his abdomen.

“I’m breaking up with you,” he announces coldly.

“You cannot break up with me. We are drunk.”

“I can. I just did.”

“No,” she groans and presses her face deeper in his stomach.

“Let go, you ungrateful woman.”

“I caaan’t,” she whimpers. “Levi I—” The rest of her words are muffled; he cannot pick up their meaning and form a logical sentence in his mind.

“What?” He asks, bending his head down.

“I said, I loppffhhhppp…”

“I don’t understand what you are saying, Hanji.” He puts his hand on her shoulder to push her back. He is convinced at this point that she is not forming legible words, intentionally.

Unexpectedly, she withdraws and puts her hands on his shoulders to lift herself up. Then leans in to rest her head right beside his neck, nuzzling his skin. “We should go back,” she murmurs. “My place is closer.”

Levi has no idea what time it is when they miraculously manage to enter her house after a taxi drive which felt like years. They take unsteady and clumsy steps inside the house until Levi finds a door of which room, he is unaware of. He only looks for something to lay down on, then catches the sight of a couch with the limited light provided through the half-drawn curtains. He throws himself to it, without even bothering to take his jacket off. He only kicks his shoes out of his feet and tosses until he finds a comfortable position to sleep.

Hanji gets into the room a few seconds later. Levi watches her with half-lidded eyes and sees that she has a blanket in her hands. He frowns. How the hell had she had enough wits in her head to think of a blanket? But sleep weighs down on him incredibly heavy and so very unusually that he is almost scared to make it run away. He doesn’t have the strength the utter proper words at the moment anyway.

Hanji lies down on his chest, covering them with the blanket. He automatically wraps his arms around her as she presses her forehead on his neck. She whines. “I hope I don’t throw up during the night.”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” he mutters. The clean freak inside of him is alarmed and screams with worry and dismay. He has no voice though. Just a wide mouth open in a silent yell and eyes filled with apprehension.

“Would you break up with me if I did?” Hanji asks, and he feels her smile in her sleepy voice.

A moment of consideration. “No.”

She huffs out a drowsy chuckle. “Levi,” she murmurs and sighs. “I love, love, love you.”

Are you still afraid of something? Is it you who command?

“Idiot,” he says affectionately. The vanes of the windmill twirl ever so rapidly, and he considers how weird it is for his heart to beat, pound and feel for somebody else, for her only. “I love, love, love you too.”

The subway moves swift through the night and they are alone inside the compartment at this hour of the day. Levi watches their reflection on the window when Hanji takes a few photos with her phone. Grinning from ear to ear while Levi has a dead, worn-out look rooted deeply in his eyes. Travelling around the city to visit historical places, museums and parks within just one single day was the worst idea he had ever agreed to. He barely had the energy to merely sit.

“Gonna post these on Instagram,” she twitters happily, swinging left and right.

“Don’t forget to announce my funeral,” Levi murmurs.

Hanji snorts and locking her phone she puts it back in her pocket. Then she shifts and lies her head on his lap, staring up at him.

“Why do you always lie on my lap in public places?” He asks, looking down at her.

She shrugs. “I enjoy the view above.”

“Tch.” One corner of his lips quivers and he moves his gaze up, looking at the window across from him again. This time he realizes that there is heavy rain outside, the raindrops tap furiously against the glass. “Shit,” he swears tiredly. “It’s raining.”

She follows his gaze. There isn’t much before they reach their stop. They are going to soak to their goddamn underwears. It had been sunny the whole day. Curse his luck.

“Alas!” she sighs, but she doesn’t sound much concerned. “Levi,” she says then, and when their gazes are locked again, she beams at him. “Would you kiss me under the rain?”

He blinks down at her first, his heart stammering hard against his ribcage. His eyes examine her features carefully. “Would you like me to?”

“Yes,” she breaths. “I’ve never done it before.”

“Me neither.”

“How do you think it would be?”

“I don’t know,” he says. “I’ve never done it before.”

Her smile widens to display her straight, white teeth. “We should try it.”

“Maybe.” He watches her lips. They are a sweet shade of pink and they look maddeningly soft. And he wants to taste them so very desperately.

“Don’t worry. Nothing’s going to happen to your chastity.”

His gaze travels up to her eyes. “I am sure.”

It is still pouring rain when they leave the subway. Hanji leads them through the streets, with her fingers around his. He licks the rain on his lips and squints to get a better view of her. He smells wet asphalt and trees and earth. The odour of the pine trees is evident despite the rain. The splashing drops bounce on the ground like they are dancing up and down, but they slow down until they stop under a streetlamp.

“We should do it before the rain ends,” Hanji explains excitedly. As if what they were going to do wasn’t something basically everyone did but a life-changing, world-saving act of heroism.

Her lips taste like rain and they are warm against his own. When her hands cling to the collars of his jacket, he cups her cheeks and tilts his head. Much to their unfortunate luck, the rain almost ceases, turns into a drizzle that barely had any function of wetting anything. She smiles, but Levi doesn’t pull back for a little longer. Holds her gently, keeps her close.

Are you still afraid of the wind?

“Let’s dance,” she whispers against his lips. Her breath warm, her taste still on his tongue.

“There is no song.” And the rain stopped already.

She wraps an arm around his neck and holds one of his hands. He slides his other arm on her waist keeping up with her movements, while she rests her forehead on his temple. “We don’t need a song.”

They start to move slowly, following the notes of a song that doesn’t exist. The wind is blowing still, quietly. If he listens carefully, he can hear the pitter patters of the water dropping down from the rooftops, and the soft sounds of the wheels of the cars rolling on the wet ground, a plane taking off, a man coming back from work, his rapid footsteps. Tap, tap, tap. And his heart, content like he is lying down on the grass, with breezes caressing his face, ruffling his hair ever so slightly. Watching how quietly the vanes turn on top of a hill.

Oh, windmill.

You’re a place where I can cry.

You’re a place where I can lie.

You’re a place where I can die.

#levihan #levihanfic #fanfic #songfic #levi x hanji #levihan fanfiction

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twistedtummies2 · 4 years ago

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A Feline Valentine (Che’NyaXReader; Stuffing)

HUZZAH! It took me writing well into the night last night, but I was able to complete my Valentine’s Day Special after all! Hope you all enjoy! :D

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Six o’ clock. Tea Time. You really wondered (with a sigh) how Riddle got along so well with your boyfriend at times like this. Granted, you loved the fluffy-eared gremlin to bits, but if there was one thing he never seemed to care about… …Well…actually…he cared about very little. It was probably part of why Riddle didn’t dislike him for going to Royal Sword instead of Night Raven; the Cheshire Cat was by no means a hero…but he was also by no means a villain. And he was certainly by no means punctual. You paced around the table you had set up in the Tea Garden of Heartslabyul. In the light of the golden afternoon, you paused to look around. You had to admit, you’d always found Heartslabyul to be one of the most beautiful dorms; if the historic Rose Garden owned by the Queen of Hearts was even half as beautiful as the one Riddle Rosehearts and his pack maintained, it still would have been perfectly enchanting. It was an unseasonably warm afternoon, but with a light breeze that whistled through and cooled it pleasantly to a perfect temperature. The heart-shaped topiary sculptures and vibrant red roses that poked from the great green hedge rows were the perfect natural decoration for a day like today…only helped by the special scarlet paper lanterns that had been strung up, in place of the usual blue and yellow. The paper was patterned with images of hearts. Similarly, instead of the black, red, and white bunting that was usually set out, you had purposefully selected pink and purple flag streamers, which lightly fluttered and flapped in the delicate wind. You frowned as you looked back to the table; you were actually starting to feel a little worried. You’d taken a lot of time to prepare this occasion. Riddle had even allowed you to make use of his personal table; he claimed it was due to Rule 214, but he never explained WHAT Rule 214 was, so you didn’t know why that was. You checked your cell phone to see the time; it was now a couple minutes past six, you still found no sign of hide nor hair from him. You bit your lip as you stuffed your phone back in your pocket; had something happened to him? Even on a day like today, when everyone was spending time with their special someone (presuming they had one), Night Raven had plenty of troublemakers out and about…and while your beau was no pushover, especially for the “pompous, pampered little princes” who stayed in the Dorms of Royal Sword Academy, you didn’t want to risk he’d run into beasts somewhat fiercer than himself. He only had eight lives left, after all. “Come on, kitten,” you mumbled to yourself, tapping your foot with impatient nervousness. “Where are you…?” “Twaaaas brillig, and the slithy Toves did gyre and gimble in the waaabe. All mimzyyyy were the Borogoves, and the Mome Raths outgraaabe!”

You knew that strange, up-and-down, melodic voice, naturally. You knew that song, too, and therefore knew who was singing it. You glanced about curiously, but you saw nothing; this wasn’t surprising, however. Your boyfriend from Night Raven’s rival college had a habit of being non-corporeal. “Che’Nya?” you called out, then smirked. “You might as well show yourself, that ‘ghostly singing’ thing isn’t as impressive as you think it is.” A pouting meow was heard, from seemingly everywhere at all. “I thought you liked my singing. In fact, I thought you said it was The Cat’s Meow!” You blinked dully. “Those puns are going to get you in trouble, you know that, don’t you?” you droned. “I suppose it ‘hiss’ possible.” “That one,” you snapped out, lifting a finger in emphasis. “That one was ‘Meowsy.’” “Awwww, my little bunny is making cat puns now, too!” crooned the voice of the Cheshire neko. “I’m so proud!” You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I learned from the best,” you drawled, waving a hand dismissively. “Now come on out!” A pause. No response. “I’m waiting!” you called out, louder. Right on cue, you felt a tap on your right shoulder. You turned…and spotted nothing. Then came a tap on your left shoulder. You rolled your eyes, turned again…and once more spotted nothing. Then you started to turn around…and found yourself almost eyeball-to-eyeball with two large, glowing, golden eyes. “BOO!” “GYAH!” You yelped and jumped about six inches into the air, catching yourself on a nearby chair as you stared up at the disembodied head floating before you, a few feet above the surface of an empty table. The head giggled in a high-pitched, half-hysterical way; an unhinged but not necessarily dangerous sort of laugh, followed by a teasing grin filled with many large, sharp white teeth. “Gotcha! Nya!” sing-songed the fair-skinned face of your beau, his purple ears twitching where they sprouted from under his equally purple-haired head. A faint jingle came from the ears, courtesy of the little brass piercings shaped like signposts in each. You blinked…then frowned, blushing a bit at being caught off guard so easily. “Very funny,” you grumbled. “I thought it was!” chirruped the Cheshire Cat-Boy, his head spinning in place a full three-hundred-sixty degrees. You quivered. “How do you do that?” you muttered. “A good meow-gician never reveals his secrets!” “A GOOD magician,” you responded dryly, “Would be on time and not make such terrible jokes.” “Well, then it’s a good thing I’m not one of those!” “…Yet you won’t reveal your secrets anyway.” “Nya-ope!” “…Your jokes just get worse from here, don’t they?” Your boyfriend giggled and rolled his eyes, then his head swooped forward. You went stiff as he sniffed at your hair, and his head began to orbit around your own. It was an unsettling feeling, and you squirmed a bit, blushing as he meowed and leaned close, the lone head nuzzling your cheek as you heard the big kitty purr. “Awww…no need to be so mean, my little bun-bun,” he crooned…then licked your cheek and rumbled as he added in a whisper: “It makes you taste less sweet, you know.” You blushed bright red, and he giggled more. “Awww, bunny-bun is so cuuute when they’re flustered!” he mewed, and once again came around to your front. “Don’t worry, my little rabbit! This big kitty won’t gobble you up! Today, anyway.” “That’s a shame…” “Hm? Nya? What was that?” “Nothing, nothing,” you said, shaking your head, then tilted it as you added: “Can you make your whole self visible? It’s…weird chatting with a talking head.” You had a feeling your significant other shrugged, but since you couldn’t see his shoulders at that point, you weren’t sure. In any event, slowly but surely, the physical body of Alchemi Alchemivich Pinka – alias, Che’Nya the Cheshire Cat – finally began to fade into view. He looked the same as he always did: dressed in a white dress shirt that was several sizes two big, under which he wore a pink-and-purple-striped t-shirt. A ring with the image of a smiling cat’s head was on one of his fingers, each of which ended in short-but-sharp claws, painted the same shade of purple as his hair. A matching purple belt held up the blue jeans he wore; it bore a silver buckle, and the words “Can You Stand on Your Head?” stitched into it with silver thread. All over the legs of his blue jeans were various colored patches, resembling mushrooms, trees, and Mome Raths – strange creatures that inhabited the realm of the Queen of Hearts. Purple boots with black laces were on his feet; they were decorated in gold chains with pendants that spelled the phrases “This Way” and “That Way.” Your boyfriend smiled and blinked his huge yellow eyes. His two canine teeth stuck out from his mouth, and with his large eyes and the way he cocked his head, you couldn’t help but smile; he really did look so much like a big, curious kitten, bushy purple-and-pink-striped tail swishing behind him and all. “Can I ask you a question, Bunny?” he mewed, as he hopped down and sat the wrong way on a chair. “Sure,” you nodded. “Oh, good!” grinned Che’Nya. A pause. “…So?” “So what?” “What was it?” “What was what?” “The question!” “What question?” “The one you just asked!” “I asked a question?” “Yes, you asked if you could ask a question!” “Well, then I already asked you a question, didn’t I? In fact, I think I just asked…” He tilted his head and counted on his fingers. “…Six! A half dozen questions! Now, isn’t that great? OOH! That one makes lucky number seven!” “But…that…that doesn’t…!” Che’Nya grinned and placed his head in his hands, his chin against the back of the chair, eyes half-lidded. Try me, bunny, his smile seemed to say. Go ahead. You blinked…then grumbled and reached out, booping him on the nose. Che’Nya’s smile fell. He blinked…then sneezed, and pouted as he covered his nose. “Heeeey, no booping!” he meowed, childishly. “Then stop talking in circles.” “I don’t talk in circles,” he smirked. “I talk in squares, triangles, occasionally hexagons, and even a few parallelograms, but NEVER circles!” “You’re impossible.” “Hardly,” Che’Nya chuckled. “I do believe in Six Impossible Things before breakfast each morning, though…then I usually go out and eat them.” He winked and licked his lips as he added: “For instance…Thing Number Five this morning was believing I had the best little human in the world as my S-O. Now, doesn’t that seem impossible?” You blinked. “…I can’t tell if that was a compliment or not.” “Then I have done my job,” Che’Nya said. So saying, the Cheshire Cat got up from the chair and hugged you close. You froze up, not expecting the sudden show of affection…but when he started nuzzling your neck and purring, you smiled and returned the hug. “You may be impossible…but you’re MY kind of impossible,” you whispered. “Awww…bunnyyyyy, you’ll make me blush,” mumbled Che’Nya. “Then I’ll have done MY job,” you teased. Che’Nya giggled. “Touche! Nya!” he sang out, then pulled back and grinned at you excitedly, tail twitching as he clapped his hands. “Oh! Oh! I almost forgot! I wanna show you a trick! Can I, can I? Huh?” You chuckled and smiled; his exuberance never ceased to make you grin almost as widely as he could. Almost. Aside from maybe the Leech Twins, no one could smile as wide as the Cheshire Cat…and certainly no one could do so and NOT make it absolutely mortifying to behold. “Sure,” you said, and sat down on a chair, figuring the big event could wait till after he’d gotten it out of his system. “Go ahead, kitty.” Che’Nya let out a “squee” of delight, then made a show of clearing his throat. He then adopted a dramatic pose and waggled his fingers as he tugged on his baggy white sleeves. “Nothing up my sleeves!” he declared…then reached out with one hand. “But something back here…” You smirked and rolled your eyes as he reached behind your ear; this was an old trick, you knew how it- “Boop!” You let out a mousey squeak as suddenly something bopped your nose…then blinked as you realized, instead of a coin, he had pulled what appeared to be a golden pocket watch, tied to a matching gold chain, and had gently tapped your nose with it. Che’Nya grinned as he then lowered the watch into your waiting hands. You blinked as you looked at the gold watch; the outside was etched with your name, and when you flipped it open, the ticking watch hands inside were designed to look like Che’Nya himself (as the minute hand), with you as the hour hand…chasing him with a newspaper. You blinked…then looked up. The catboy’s eyes were very wide, and he was fidgeting anxiously. “Nya? Do you like it?” he meowed, sounding more nervous than you felt he wanted to show. “I…I do! It’s…it’s lovely!” you chuckled, and chastised yourself for using a word like “lovely,” before going on: “How did you get it? Did you…make it?” “Nope. But I have a friend who actually makes clocks and watches. He’s a bunny – actual bunny, not just cute-bunny-like-human, the way you are.” He took a moment to smirk at your blush before going on. “He gave me a discount, so I asked him to make that for me, custom. Oh! And there’s more!” Che’Nya added, and reached into the pocket of his jeans, sticking out his tongue as he focused on trying to fish something out. It took him several tries; he pulled out a yo-yo, a bag of jelly beans, a teacup, and a kitchen sink (you were NOT going to ask), before finally finding what he was looking for. “Aha! Purr-fect!” he exclaimed, and smiled as he handed over a large paper card. It looked like an oversized Ace of Hearts. Curious, you took the card, and realized it opened up; a greeting card. You looked at the words written inside; they were written over an image of a huge, cat-toothed smile. You read them aloud. “Keep Smiling, Bunny. Happy Valentine’s Day.” You looked up; Che’Nya’s eyes were very, very wide again, once again looking anxious and eager. You smiled and stood on tip-toe, kissing him on the nose. He mewed and you chuckled. “Thanks, kitty. I appreciate it a lot.” “Hey, it’s Valentine’s Day,” Che’Nya smiled back, swishing his tail happily as his ears twitched again, once again making the piercings tingle like little bells. “I would be a pretty meow-sy boyfriend if I didn’t get you a gift and a card.” “Now you’re just stealing MY puns, that’s plagiarism.” “I think you mean…” Che’Nya paused…then blinked…and tilted his head. He mouthed a few silent nothings to himself…then shrugged. “Never mind. I can’t think of a pun with that. There’s glory for you!” You crinkled your nose, and remarked, “I don’t know what you mean by glory.” “Of course you don’t, till I tell you,” Che’Nya sniffed, and explained: “When I said ‘glory,’ I meant ‘there’s a tough puzzle for you.’” “…Um…glory doesn’t mean ‘a tough puzzle’ though.” “When I choose a word,” Che’Nya responded, sagely, “It means precisely what I choose it to mean. Neither more nor less.” “Yeah, but the question is whether or not you can make a word mean-” You were stopped by Che’Nya placing a finger on your lips. His smile was indulgent, as if he were talking to a child. “The question,” he said, gently, “Is which is to be the Master. That’s all.” You were much too puzzled to respond to that properly…so you instead reached out and gave the mischievous kitten a tickling poke in the tummy. Che’Nya mewed and giggled backing up and placing his hands on his belly to protect it. “H-Hey! No! No tickling!” he meowed, blushing a bit. You smirked triumphantly…but your triumph was short lived, as the moment was broken by a deep, gurgling rumble from the belly you had just poked. GRRROOORRRLLLLBG… “Oooh,” murmured Che’Nya, wincing a bit and giving a more strained sort of smile as he scratched the back of his head with one hand, the other clutching his belly more tightly. “H-Heh…I think you woke up my tummy. I, um…I might have skipped lunch today…” “Awww, poor kitty,” you cooed, teasingly, then grinned back. “Well, thankfully, I asked you over here because I have my own Valentine’s Day gift for you.” Che’Nya’s ears perked up and he smiled wider, yellow eyes brightening. “Nya? You did? How purr-fectly wonderful of you, bunny-bun!” he sang, clapping his hands together in joy, and looking around. “Where is it? What is it? Show me, show me!” A twinkle was in your eye that might have made the Cheshire Cat proud as you stepped aside and gestured to the long table under a tree in the Tea Garden. Che’Nya stepped forward to inspect the table…then stopped in place, eyes widening all the more at what he saw. You chuckled as you looked to the fruits of your labors: with help from Trey, you’d gotten quite the little feast prepared. Half of it was store bought, the other half homemade. Given the spirit of Valentine’s Day, it was a feast that was sugar saturated: the only things not involving a great deal of saccharine sweetness were a basket of chicken tenders from Che’Nya’s favorite restaurant, and a Salmon Filet that you had gotten from the Mostro Lounge. Of course, Che’Nya’s love of tuna was renowned (right on par with Grim’s taste for it), so you had to have tuna at the table…but in the spirit of the holiday, you’d taken a different route than usual. Trey and yourself had looked up a recipe for CANDIED tuna: strips of the fish cured with salt, pepper, and maple sugar. From that point on, everything was sugary: a box of gourmet chocolates and a vase of chocolate roses were obvious must-haves for a Valentine’s meal. Vanilla cupcakes with purple hearts made in icing were also prepared, set beside a box of marshmallow bluebirds. A carton of Neopolitan ice cream was on the opposite side of the cupcakes…and last, but certainly not least, the favorite food of EVERYONE in Heartslabyul, and second only to fish and poultry for Che’Nya’s tastes: strawberry tarts, crisply cooked, and so fresh they were still steaming. You looked back to Che’Nya; his expression reminded you of a meme of a kitten looking at Christmas Tree lights for the first time, and you couldn’t keep the soft “d’awww” that escaped from you. “Like what you see?” you checked. Che’Nya blinked…then looked back at you. “You do know all that sugar is going to go to my hips, right?” “You say that as if it would discourage me.” Che’Nya smirked, and this time HE tapped YOUR nose. “Naughty-naughty, funny bunny,” he sing-songed. You blushed and grumbled to yourself as you brushed his hand away. Che’Nya sniggered, then made a show of cracking his knuckles and neck as he strutted towards the table, big bushy tail whisking about behind him. “Well…you know what they say: time to take the tiger by the horns.” You started to agree…then paused when you actually digested (no pun intended) that saying. “Wait…that’s not-” “ITADAKIMASU!” meowed Che’Nya, as he hopped into his seat at the table…and without so much as another word, grabbed hold of the cupcakes and began to eat. Ten cupcakes had been placed upon a plate, organized into a heart shape. The Cheshire Neko snatched up one of them and, without even the slightest ado (nor any sense of decorum) stuffed the entire cupcake into his mouth. NOMPH! You watched, wide-eyed and very still, as Che’Nya’s cheeks bulged with the cupcake inside his mouth; his eyes closed as he chewed slowly – GRUM, GRUM, GRUM – tail swishing, the look on his face like that of a very happy kitten as he purred softly at the flavor…then – GRULPH! – swallowed the cupcake whole. He licked some crumbs off his cheeks…then, his jaws opened wide again – wider than many would think should be physically possible – fangs parting as he began to shovel the remaining nine cupcakes into his mouth at record-breaking speed. CHOMPH-NOMPH-GROMPH-HROMPH…! You slowly began to approach the table, watching with something approaching awe as the half-cat tore through the pastries like famine was fast approaching. It wasn’t the first time you’d seen your kitty eat so much and so fast, and you knew it was only the beginning…but that never made it any less phenomenal. Between himself and some in Savanaclaw, you wondered if it was just a cat thing to be a living bottomless pit…though while some in that dorm preferred tons and tons of meat, Che’Nya was more well-known for his sweet tooth, when it came to his appetite. The cupcakes had soon been guzzled; Che’Nya next turned his attention to the chocolate roses, there were three in the vase. He plucked one free, and began to untie the wrapping around the chocolate bulb in thin strips… “Hmmm…my bunny loves me…he hates me not…he loves me…he hates me not…” You smiled as you pulled up a seat beside him and kissed the hand holding the rose playfully. “Either one works,” you shrugged cheerily. Che’Nya let out a giggle, and finished unwrapping the rose…before popping the chocolate into his mouth. He smirked around his closed mouth, winked…and then – SCHLUPK! – pulled the rose free. Only the plastic stem, wrapped in green paper, came out…he had managed to ingest the entire piece of chocolate. Che’Nya rumbled and moaned around a closed mouth; you watched as his right cheek bulged, and then his left, as he swirled the chocolate around, letting it melt in his mouth for a few moments…then, he swallowed faintly – GLURK – and you watched as his throat rippled every so slightly, Adam’s Apple rising and falling subtly, as he let the melted chocolate trickle down his throat. “Mmmmm,” he murmured, as he plucked a second rose up. “Roses are red, violets are blue, chocolate is tasty…” He paused…then you let out an “eep!” of surprise as he leaned forward and licked the very tip of your nose. “…And so are yooouuu,” he sang, with a big, teasing smile. You blushed and half-heartedly swiped at his ears. He cackled and dodged, then chomped down on the second rose. You heard his teeth saw through the chocolate before he swallowed, then treated the third and final rose in much the same manner. This was evidently enough sweetness for the catboy, at least for the start, because the next item he selected was the salmon filet. As he pulled it closer, you reached to helpfully grab a couple of plastic utensils from a box you’d provided… …Then stopped short as the cat tilted his head back, and lifted the entire filet up over his head. His jaws fell wide open, tongue rolling out like a red carpet…before he dropped the pinkish-red fish meat in and slurped it up noisily before swallowing it all in one bite. SCHLUGULP! You watched, eyes tracing the bulge the salmon made in the Cheshire Cat’s throat as it slithered down his esophagus, before dropping past his chest, and vanishing into the belly behind his shirt. The shirt fit very loosely, so you couldn’t tell what it was like behind the garment…which only made you feel a bit disappointed… …No matter. Very soon, that would be changing. “Ahhhhh…tasty fishy!” chirruped Che’Nya, and blinked his big yellow eyes at you, one ear flicking as he asked: “Did you get anything to drink?” You nodded and held up a finger in a “one moment” gesture, before reaching under the table; you pulled out three large bottles, each containing three liters of cherry soda. Che’Nya clapped his knuckles together his grin widening and eyes all but sparkling at the sight. “Oh, YAY! My favorite flavor! Thank you, bunny-bun!” “Don’t mention it,” you chuckled, and cracked open the bottle for him. The playful feline made grabby-hands at you as you offered him the bottle, which he wasted no time in placing to his lips as he began to chug down the bubbling, fizzing, dark red liquid within. GLUG, GLUG, GLUG… With every swallow Che’Nya took, his neck bobbed and pulsed, the super-sweet, tangy soda pop gushing down his gullet almost by the cup-full. You admitted it was slightly surprising that cherry was Che’Nya’s favorite soft drink; based on color, you would have presumed he’d prefer grape. But then again, the Cheshire Cat was nothing if not frequently surprising. As the soda sloshed down his throat, your eye fell towards the feline’s abdomen again; you could actually hear the fruity beverage dropping down, cascading like a waterfall into his burbling belly. Finally, you saw a sight that made your heart sing and brought pinkness to your cheeks once more: that baggy, ill-fitting white shirt began to became more taut and stretched around the middle of the Cheshire Cat’s lean, lithe midsection. It was finally starting to press out… …And it must have been by quite an amount, because as soon as he finished off the bottle, pulling it away with a somewhat dramatic “Pah!” and tossing it away (one of you would pick it up later; littering was against Rule Thirty-One), he grunted and reached down, adjusting his belt and loosening his waistband, sighing as his stomach no doubt sagged from the weight within… …If that knowledge didn’t make you blush enough, what happened next as the pressure was released slightly did. “BRRRRRUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRP!” the Cheshire catboy burped, surprisingly long and loud for such a slippery creature. He blinked, seemingly surprised at the volume and power of the eruption, one ear flicking…then laughed childishly. “Hoo hoo hoo! I think my tummy’s getting a little bit bubbly,” he cooed, then smirked at you and reached out, taking one of your wrists. “Hmmm…c’mere…feel.” Even if you had wanted to resist, the firm grasp on your wrist denied you that privilege. So, instead, you scooted closer…and blushed more than ever as Che’Nya managed to lift up the veritable blanket of his oversized white shirt…revealing to you the pale, silky skin of his normally concave belly, now swollen by a few solid inches till it looked like he had swallowed a small melon or some sort of ball. The Cheshire Cat meowed softly as he guided your hand to his belly…and then released your wrist as your fingertips, and then your palm, rested over the curve of his midsection. His belly was textured softer than velvet, warm as a heated pillow. When you pressed upon it, it gave ever so slightly under your pressure. Che’Nya hiccuped and then stifled another burp, catching it in his cheeks… “HIC-MMMRRRRRLLLLPH…phoosh.” …Before teasingly blowing the gas right in your face. You coughed and blushed, tears springing to your eyes as Che’Nya smirked lazily at you. “…C-Cat Breath,” you gasped out. “You know you love it,” cooed Che’Nya, licking his fangs and winking…then giggled as he lifted one arm. “Hey, check this out…” He waggled his fingers…and, before your very eyes, the hand that had been there wasn’t there any more. There was no flash of light, no puff of smoke; one second the hand was there, the next, it wasn’t. “Nothing up my sleeves again!” he sang out. You rolled your eyes…then yelped, momentarily allowing your hand to leave his belly (which you instantly regretted, perhaps more than you cared to admit aloud), as the hand reappeared, floating in mid-air, and holding the basket of chicken strips. You looked from the hand and the basket, and back up to Che’Nya…who, with his one remaining hand, gave you the biggest, widest “kitty eyes” he could…and then pointed into his mouth. “Feed me?” he meowed, innocently. …You couldn’t decide if that was cute, attractive, or both. You decided on both, and nodded with a wide smile, taking the basket from Che’Nya’s…disembodied…floating…hand (yeah, having the Cheshire Cat for a boyfriend was WEIRD sometimes), and placed it in your lap as you adjusted your chair. Che’Nya “recalled” his hand (it vanished from thin air and reappeared back in place at the end of his arm), and happily wiggled as he reclined slightly in the well-padded throne Riddle usually occupied. You dimly imagined Riddle complaining about cat shedding all over his cushions, and couldn’t help but snicker as you lifted one of the crispy, perfectly seasoned tenders from the basket. “Open wide,” you said. Che’Nya was only too happy to oblige, closing his eyes and letting his mouth fall open expectantly. You could have sworn a puff of steam came from his salivating jaws as he did so…you opted not to comment on it, for numerous reasons. You blushed as you had a very good look at the deep red, saliva-dripping interior of his maw, framed by pointed white fangs, including those two elongated canines that had a tendency to stick out in an (adorable) overbite…fangs that were primed to cut and rip into anything that got too close and tasted delicious… You quivered, suddenly imagining yourself being dangled over that wide maw like a mouse…and shook your head quickly to clear it before holding the chicken strip over his mouth. Your lips quirked as you saw his nose twitch in a decidedly catlike way, ears pricking up happily as he no doubt smelled the spices and seasonings used in the batter to bread the tenders. Without any further ceremony, you let the chicken tender drop…and Che’Nya quickly scarfed it up in three fast bites, like a cat snarfing down a very fat rodent. He rumbled pleasantly, sighing through his nose as he chewed, teeth piercing into the juicy white meat…before – GRULP! – swallowing it down in one bite. Your eyes followed the lump in Che’Nya’s throat as it vanished…and you let out a soft squeak as the cat let out a low, rumbling burp, once again right in your face. “Uuuuuuurrrrrrrrrrrrrrp…hoo-hoo, excuse me…more, please!” You didn’t have to be told twice. One by one, you fed the boy with the catlike ears all of the chicken tenders. There were eight in total; the first four, Che’Nya chewed up happily…but with the last rest, he didn’t seem to chew at all, wolfing them down (ironically for a big cat) and swallowing them whole. Hot, moist breath pelted your face, steadily smelling more and more strong as you added food to the organic cauldron deep within the catboy’s core. As you watched him scarf down the last chicken strip, and put away the empty basket, the purple-and-pink tail of the felid hybrid swirled out and swept up the heart-shaped box of gourmet chocolates you had chosen, and carefully desposited it into your hands. You smiled and opened the box. “Any you would like first?” you said, offering to show him the contents…but Che’Nya shook his head, looking quite excited. “Surprise me!” he meowed happily. You chuckled and looked into the box briefly, trying to decide…before plucking up the chocolate of choice: a simple mini-bar drizzled with a spiral of white chocolate. Che’Nya stuck out his tongue, and you blushed as you placed the chocolate onto the tongue directly…then yelped, barely having time to pull your fingers away before the tongue retracted and the sharp teeth snapped shut. Che’Nya chewed a few times and purred. “Mmmmm,” he murmured, and swallowed before commenting: “GULP…orange crème! Yummy! More, more!” You smiled wider, and, just as you had with the chicken strips, began to feed the big kitty one chocolate at a time. The orange crème was followed by one of raspberry crème, which was then followed up by caramel, then nougat, then a chocolate truffle… GLUPP-GLUPP-GLUPP… The purple-and-pink-haired catboy happily swallowed each chocolate, purring pleasantly as each morsel was placed inside his mouth and sent rolling down his neck and into his stomach, melting into cream and pooling in his tummy, which gurgled in a happy, high-pitched sort of way as the sugary, milky confections plopped half-solid into the pit. Every so often, his slippery, sloppy, somewhat sandpapery tongue would brush against your fingers, slurping over your hands…the first couple of times, this MIGHT have been accidental…but after the third slurp, you caught the hungry gleam in his golden eyes, and knew it wasn’t. There were two dozen chocolates in the box; two of each kind available. Ironically, the last chocolate you gave to Che’Nya turned out to be identical to the first: an orange crème-filled morsel drizzled with white chocolate in a spiral shape. You reached out to place it in his open maw… NOMPH! “YEH?!” You yelped in surprise and instinctively tried to pull back…and blushed when a playful growl and firm resistance met your efforts. You felt as if steam might be pouring from your cheeks, as Che’Nya had somehow managed to wrap his mouth around your entire hand. You felt his tongue slurp over your fingers as he suckled on you with a deep rumble; you barely even noticed the moment when the chocolate was flicked away and sent tumbling down his throat to join the rest in his guts. Finally, Che’Nya released you – after what was probably less than a minute, but felt like more than an hour – and you absent-mindedly wiped your hand clean with a napkin. Che’Nya licked and smacked his lips, before letting out a short, sharp sort of belch. “BRUPK! Mph…yum-meow!” he declared, snickering at his horrible pun. You blinked slowly. “…Are you referring to the chocolate, or me?” you asked, dryly. Che’Nya grinned and winked. “Yes.” God dang this teasing cat. You grumbled and tried to bap him on the nose…only to swat at thin air as his head disappeared from his shoulders. Just as you registered this anomaly, you nearly jumped a foot in the air as a loud, abrasive noise blasted like an airhorn in your ears from behind you. “BOOOOOOORRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAP!” “GAH! D-Don’t…don’t DO that!” You panted, startled and blushing all at once. The belly of the headless body of Che’Nya bounced as his disembodied head spun around in mid-air, laughing good-naturedly. “Sorry, sorry!” he chuckled out, and winked teasingly. “No need to LOSE YOUR HEAD about things.” You grumbled and huffed, trying to show him you were ABSOLUTELY mad at him, yes, totally. He blinked, and meowed…then his floating head nuzzled your shoulder. To anyone else, this would have been surreal and disturbing. To you…at this point, it was just Sunday. “Will you feed me those bluebirds if I say I’m sorry?” he mewed, glancing towards the marshmallow birds and giving you his most innocent eyes. You blinked at him…then smiled, and scratched him behind his ears. He purred happily, a cheery smile on his face at the attention. “Sure,” you said, in a warm, simple voice. There was a pause. “Well?” “Nya?” Che’Nya murmured opening his eyes as his head pulled away and floated just out of reach. “Well what?” “Say you’re sorry!” “I already did!” he grinned happily. Your mouth opened and closed a few times…but you finally just gave up, throwing your hands up and half-sighing, half-chuckling before reaching for the marshmallow birds. Che’Nya smirked triumphantly, and his head flipped clear over yours before landing back in its proper place atop his neck, fingers drumming over his already bloated tummy, which inched out further and further… You opened the box of candy bluebirds; there were only a half dozen of them in total. Feeling rather playful yourself now, you mouthed the word “Catch” to your half-cat boyfriend, and lifted one of the marshmallow treats, preparing to throw it. Che’Nya nodded, catching onto what you were thinking instantly, and opened his mouth. You thus tossed the six birds – once again, one by one – into his mouth.

Che’Nya did not close his mouth nor swallow till all six of the marshmallow goodies were dropped into his craw…then, and only then, did he shut his jaws tight. He chewed three times, grinding away at the squishy, spongy stuff…and then swallowed it all in one go. GLULP! A thick, round, distention formed in Che’Nya’s neck. He grunted and thumped his chest as it passed behind his ribcage…then sighed and patted his belly, which let out a deep “glort” as the food was dropped into place. “Oof…nya…I think I need to wash that one down,” he mumbled, and grabbed hold of the second bottle of cherry soda himself. He cracked it open, paused to allow the pressurized air to settle…then unscrewed the cap and rapidly began to swill down all three liters. His Adam’s Apple bobbed and bounced as if suspended in tumultuous water… GLUG, GLUG, GLUG…! You listened to the sound of the soda pouring down into the Cheshire hybrid’s belly. GLORSH, GLORSH, GLORSH…your mind began to wander, conjuring up a mental picture of what it must have been like inside that swollen stomach, as it continued to expand, creaking against the waistband of the cat’s trousers, the pulled-up shirt draped over its upper curve. Dark…swampy…slimy…smelly…the walls ever moving, always working to stir up the contents of the beast-man’s bowels…you imagined being squeezed in-between them, the soda pouring down over your head as the stomach growled hungrily in your ears… …The rumbling belch from your boyfriend snapped you out of it. “GWWWUUUUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRP! Ahhhh…you chose the BEST soda, bunny!” Alchemi smiled widely, tail flipping happily behind him as he grunted and once again adjusted his belt, groaning with relief as his gut was allowed more breathing room. “Ooof…I’m feeling kinda heavy now…mmmmrrrrroooowwwwl…” “I’m not surprised,” you mumbled, eying that engorged stomach, which was now bigger than a basketball, tightly compressed behind the waistband of the kitty-boy’s patched pants. Your fingers twitched and fidgeted, but you somehow restrained yourself, watching as Che’Nya rubbed over his belly himself, claws lightly brushing against his sensitive, supple skin… “Oooooh…soooo full already,” he half-moaned, half-purred. “I can feel it all getting sloshed and churned around in there…” He patted the side of his belly and hiccuped before sighing and going on. “HIC! Ohhhh…all that sugar’s making my tummy feel all hot and heavy, too…I might not have much money, but I’m gonna be a literal ‘fat cat’ when it’s all done, I know it…” “One can only hope.” “Nya?” “Nothing, nothing,” you said, shaking your head…then reached for the dish of candied tuna strips, holding it out with a hopeful smile. “Sure you don’t have room for more?” Che’Nya blinked; one of his ears flickered and he leaned close, innocently sniffing at the dish; his gut let out a powerful, NEEDY roar as the scent of maple and that wonderful fishy odor all cats seemed to like teased his tastebuds. He licked the very tips of his jagged teeth. “…Well…no, I don’t have any room,” he admitted. You turned your head down, a little disappointed…not only because you wanted to see your boyfriend even more stuffed than usual, but because you’d really been looking forward to him trying the tuna… …But your spirits were lifted when Che’Nya added, “But I think I can fit more in my belly. Always space for tasty fishies!” “But…you just said you don’t have any room.” “I don’t,” the Cat sniffed, somewhat snootily, and gestured about with his ring hand. “We are here in the great outdoors, and there are no rooms out here! MY room isn’t even at this CAMPUS, so therefore, I can’t have it. But that doesn’t mean there isn’t space…” He poked his belly with one finger; it wobbled. “…In. Here.” You squirmed a bit and let out a whimpery noise…which you immediately covered up with a cough. Che’Nya tilted his head, as if confused by your reaction…but you waved him off and simply offered the plate again. “Whatever…go ahead and dig in, you silly kitty.” “I can’t dig without a shovel; I’d get dirt under my claws!” pouted Che’Nya. You responded by giving his belly a light shove…which resulted in him grunting and burping crudely out the side of his mouth. “Mph…BWWWOOOORRRRRK! Heeey, not nice!” he huffed, brushing the burp aside. “Actually, that sounded VERY nice to me,” you muttered. Che’Nya’s face immediately became a smirk, and he playfully tousled your hair. You swatted at his hands with a half-hearted sneer, and he chuckled before finally beginning to eat the candied tuna, picking it up two strips at a time and dropping them into his wide open mouth. He growled, the caramelized coating on the fish creating a sweet-and-salty taste that ignited his tastebuds, making the feline’s golden eyes roll in his head as he crunched them up like pieces of bacon – MUNCH, MUNCH, MUNCH – before swallowing and chomping down on two more slices. There were eight pieces of candied tuna, just as there had been eight pieces of chicken. After four rounds, Che’Nya put the empty plate down on the table, and purred as he licked and sucked on the fingers of his other hand. “Mmmmm…sooooo tasty,” he crooned, and grinned widely at you. “One of the best things I’ve ever tasted! It’s purrrrrrr-fect! Can I have more of that? Pleeeaaase?” “Some other time,” you chuckled, smiling very wide at the exuberance of the kittenish imp, and pointed to the table. “There are still two more courses left.” Che’Nya nodded, and hummed thoughtfully, one hand scratching his chin, and the other scratching his “slorshing” belly as he tried to decide between the tarts and the carton of Neopolitan ice cream. “Hmmmm,” he murmured…then, seemingly out of nowhere, summoned a silver coin into his hand and looked to you. “Quick! Heads or tails?” “Uhhh…h-heads?” you exclaimed, taken off guard. Che’Nya flipped the coin and caught it again, checking it quickly. “Well?” He looked to you…smirked…and you blinked as his head AND his tail both disappeared. “That,” his disembodied voice answered, “Would be telling.” So saying, his tail suddenly reappeared, and tickled your nose. You sneezed and glared half-heartedly as his head returned with a laugh, and he reached for the ice cream, as well as a plastic spoon. He opened the carton, dropping the lid onto the table…then smirked at you as he scooped up a spoonful from the strawberry side of the carton. “Nya…THIS is ‘digging in,’ funny bunny,” he winked…and proceeded to shovel the ice cream at record-breaking speed into his mouth, arm practically a blur as he gobbled up the cool, creamy dessert dish… GLOMPH-GRULPH-NOMPH-MRULPH…! Globs of ice cream chased each other down the Cheshire Cat’s gullet as he guzzled it up as fast as he could; it was like his esophagus had become a cooled conveyor belt. Idly, you marveled at how he didn’t seem to get brain freeze from slurping it up so rapidly. Che’Nya alternated between the three flavors in a rhythmic pattern: strawberry, vanilla, chocolate, strawberry, vanilla, chocolate…he chowed down, lapping up the melted cream like a cat might lap up milk before continuing to virtually inhale the more solid stuff. He soon finished a quarter of the carton…then half…then two thirds… “Guh…oooof…fffaaahhhhaaaa…” Che’Nya panted, dropping the spoon into the empty carton, and then dropping that into the grass at his feet. He panted, clutching his belly with one hand as the ice cream sat heavily in his belly; his guts sounded like a processing vat at a factory, stirring and swirling the thick mush within, thickened by the sweet, cold cream he’d pumped down into the pit. “BLLLLUUUUUURRRRRRRLLLLLLLLUUUUUUUGLP!” he belted out, and sighed deeply. “Nyaaaaa…tummy’s sooooo – HIC-URP! – so gurgly…I feel – HIC! – so heavy…” You were red as a strawberry as you glanced between Che’Nya’s face and his belly. He seemed to know what you were thinking, as he looked to you with his widest, most innocent, most pleading “kitty eyes” and mewed sweetly. “Tummy rubs?” was all he said. That was all the invitation your twitching fingers needed, as you had to hold yourself back from lunging at his bloated gut. You reached towards his waistband; he rumbled curiously as you unfastened his belt, and then the button of his pants… ZZZRRRIIIP! BLORGSH! “NYYYYYYYYYYAAAAOOOOORRRRRRUUUUUUUUUEEEHHHUUURRRRRRRP! Ahhhhhh…sooooo GOOD…” Your eyes widened as Che’Nya’s belly poured out like a huge ball of dough into his lap, completely freed from restraints, surging forth from under the draped portion of his baggy white shirt. His navel was stretched into a tight ellipse, and you felt your heart pound faster in your chest as you looked upon the bloated mass of his middle. “…Eeee…eeeeeeeeeeeeee…” “Awwww…bunny liiiiikes?” Che’Nya breathed out, eyes half-lidded as he grinned at your expression and let out a giggle; his gut sloshed and jostled with his mirth. “C’mon, bunny-bunny…it’s nya-ot gonna rub itself…” Once again, you needed no further invitation. Your hands soon found their way to the warm, soft belly one of them had been pressed to earlier, and you began to tend to your boyfriend’s big, bulbous belly. Across the silken surface, your fingers caressed the softest, most tender portions of the belly of the beast-boy, and kneaded and massaged at the tenser areas. You let your hand wander to the side of the burgeoning belly, the size of a large medicine ball, and gave it a few hearty pats; each little slap made a satisfying thump, like smacking the sides of a ripened gourd. Che’Nya meowed and purred deeply; for several moments, he didn’t move or say a word, eyes closed as he just enjoyed the wonderful gut rubs you were giving him: a gift almost as good, if not better, than the bountiful, super-saccharine feast you had prepared. He lay limp and totally relaxed, crooning and meowing a few times as you scritched and scratched at the upper curve and the sides of his globular gut…being pampered was soooo good… …Then his nose twitched…and he opened one yellow eye. The glimmering golden iris smoldered like a dying candle as he eyed the last dish on the table. An arm draped over your shoulder, momentarily stopping you…and you watched as Che’Nya pointed with his other arm at the strawberry tarts. There were five of them arranged on the plate in a neat little array. He said nothing, but simply pointed into his open mouth, then poked his giant belly with one finger. You smiled, nodded, and paused to grab the plate. You placed it upon his gut…and with one hand gently rubbing back and forth over the center-part of his gastric globe, you used the other to feed him the tarts. The first tart was finished in just two bites…but after that, the cat ate more slowly. His teeth sank into the crispy, warm, buttery crust and pulled away the strawberry filling within with a growl as he chewed steadily before GULPing down huge mouthfuls…but the mouthfuls came with greater gaps between them. The feline breathed more heavily, even letting out little keening sounds as he went on: the second disappeared into his guts in another two bites, though more widely spaced out…but the third went down in three bites. The fourth went down in four…and, at last, the fifth and final tart was eaten in a number of bites that matched the pattern. Che’Nya licked his chops, lapping up some stray crumbs…then coughed and grimaced. “That…th-that last one was…a little dry,” he panted out, clearly finding it harder to breathe from the sheer weight in his bowels. You nodded and reached for the final bottle of soda, offering it to him. Che’Nya eyed it almost distrustfully, very much like a spoiled pet cat not sure what to make of a new brand of cat food…then shrugged and took the triple-liter, cracking it open and slugging it down as he had the two before. GLUG…GLUG…GLUG… The half-cat drank more slowly as he began to drain the final three-liter of strong-and-sweet cherry soda. You watched as it flooded down his gullet in waves. Unable to contain your flustered curiosity, you carefully lowered your head, and rested it upon the belly of the beast-man like it was your own pillow. The first thing that registered was the wonderful warmth of your kitty-cat’s body…then, you could hear the gurgles, louder than ever. The splashing noises as soda slushed down into bubbling mire, making it froth more than ever as the muscular contractions swished the fluid and sludge inside. You closed your eyes, and you could almost imagine those sounds surrounding you…the borborygmi a peculiar lullaby, making you feel as if you could melt away and forget your problems… …Not literally, of course. You were kinky, not suicidal. And besides, while Che’Nya may not have been the most heroic student of Royal Sword…the fact he chose that over Night Raven said something about his ethical viewpoints. With some, like Leona Kingscholar or Floyd Leech, you had no clue if their threats to devour and digest you were truly jokes or not. With Che’Nya, there was always that safety blanket: he really was just a big, fluffy kitten at heart. “Gruh!” grunted said fluffy kitten, as he polished off the last of the cherry soda…and you could actually hear the gases in his belly ROAR as it rumbled deeply before a HUGE eruption sounded off just above you. “BYYYUUUUUUUUHHHHHHUUUUUUUUAAAAAAAAAOOOOOOORRRRRRRRRRRLLLLLLLLPK!” Che’Nya sighed deeply and let out a long, moaning meow before speaking: “That…was…a GOOD meal..mmmmmmmaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh…” You smiled and gave his bloated tummy a chaste kiss. He mewled and wiggled a bit under you, gut sloshing and bobbling more as a result. “I’m glad you enjoyed it, kitty-cat,” you said, and nuzzled against his belly lovingly. “Mmmm…I think I’m enjoying my own way right now…heh heh…” Che’Nya gave a lazy, languid smirk…and rested a hand over your head. He didn’t press down, didn’t exert any force at all…he just let it rest there. That was fine. You were in no hurry to move your head away from his pillowy, plumpened gut. “So…how do you feel?” you asked, tracing circles around his belly button. “Satisied?” Che’Nya growled deeply; you swore you could hear his toes curl in his boots. “I feel – HUUUURRRRP! – ohhhhh…I feel like I ate away one of my eight remaining lives…” He slurped over his lips and added with a low, bubbling belch: “Worth it.” You chuckled and moved your hand down towards the underside of his gut; the softest, warmest, most sensitive part of his belly. He gasped sharply…then sighed, melting at your touch as you carefully moved your hand with a feather-light sensitivity over that region. “Nyaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhaaaaaaaa…so THAT’S why you’re my favorite human,” he mumbled out, slurringly. You sniggered and gave the underside the very softest of pats, biting your lip and pressing into it slightly, just to feel how very, very warm and tender it was. “I try,” you said, simply, and paused before adding: “It helps that you’re my favorite kitty.” “Well, I’m clever and adorable, so I better be.” You smirked, and responded by giving his gut a shake and saying: “Well, you’re not very humble.” “BUUUUURRRRRRP! Ahhhh…humble is not in a cat’s vocabulary,” Che’Nya responded with a shrug. “Or have you ever known a cat that didn’t show some level of vanity?” You felt this could not easily be denied, so you just decided to stick your finger in his navel and move it around in there to distract him. Che’Nya’s eyes fluttered closed and his tongue flopped from his jaws. He panted heavily, tail flopping limp as he relaxed all the more. “Ooooooooh…bunny? Have I ever told you you’re the Cat’s Meow?” “On many occasions,” you answered, choosing not to remind him he’d used that joke already, too. “Mmmm…well…telling you one more time won’t hurt,” Che’Nya murmured with another shrug, twining his fingers in your hair. You rolled your eyes with a loving smile. There was a pause. “…Thank you.” “Nya? For…mph…for what, my bunny?” “The pocket watch. And…and for just being you. Every greedy, confusing, fun, silly, wonderful thing that is you. I…sometimes feel like, since we’re from different schools, so I can’t see you as often as I like, you may not realize how much I-” The hand in your hair gently lifted your head…and the other hand placed a finger on your lips. Che’Nya smiled with a half-lidded, affectionate light in his eyes. “I realize, bunny. I realize,” he said, simply. Those were all the words you needed, and you gave him a peck on the cheek. He blushed and mewed before letting go of your hair and letting out a deep yawn. “Nya…I think I need a catnap…wake me up before it gets dark, so we can clean up. I don’t want Riddle to have a cow…or a horse…or any other farmyard animal. They’d make an awful mess…” You rolled your eyes, but said you would. “Rest easy, my kitty…and Happy Valentine’s Day.” Che’Nya smiled, but he didn’t say Happy Valentine’s Day back. His eyes had closed, and he had already fallen asleep…but the warmth in his smile, the way his arm tightened around you protectively and possessively, and the lustrous purr that thrummed through his core, said everything for him. You smiled just as warmly, then shook your head with amusement and closed your own eyes as you rested your head happily against his sugar-laden stomach once more. “Heh…asleep within seconds. I guess that’s a cat thing, too…”

The End

#disney #twisted wonderland #kink fic #stuffing #belly #belching #burping #implied vore #fanfic #valentine's day special #che'nya #alchemi alchemivich pinka #cheshire cat #alice in wonderland #royal sword #royal sword academy #we're all mad here

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alivefm · 3 years ago

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( megan fox / 35 / she/her ) – ( jolene ‘jo’ munroe ) has been spotted in ravenswood. they said to originally be from ( salem, oregon ) and used to work as ( coroner ). They’ve been in the compound for ( three months ), working as ( fisherwoman ) to earn their keep and since then, others have seen their ( irritable ) but seemingly ( meticulous ) nature.

GENERAL

FULL NAME. jolene bianca munroe.

NICKNAMES. jo.

AGE & BIRTHDATE. 35 years old ; june 5.

GENDER & PRONOUNS. cis female ; she/her.

ORIENTATION. lesbian.

MARITAL STATUS. single.

RELIGION. agnostic.

OCCUPATION. fisherwoman ( former coroner ).

PHYSICAL

HAIR COLOUR. dark brown.

EYE COLOUR. baby blue.

BUILD. athletic.

MARKS. faint dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose, a beauty mark on her right hip & left index finger.

TATTOOS. small black rose behind right ear, faded mc logo on right shoulder blade, dad’s year of birth & year of death written in roman numerals along left side of collarbone, skeleton ribcage intertwined with thorny roses on inner left forearm, zodiac sign on inner right wrist .

PIERCINGS. lobes ( x3 ), left helix, both nipples.

HEIGHT. 5'4".

FACECLAIM. megan fox.

PERSONALITY

ZODIAC. gemini.

ALIGNMENT. chaotic neutral.

HOGWARTS. ravenclaw or slytherin.

LABEL. the facade.

POSITIVE TRAITS. fervent, incisive, intuitive, meticulous, valiant.

NEGATIVE TRAITS. evasive, headstrong, inquisitive, irritable, uninhibited.

HOBBIES. fishing, pitching in her two cents worth with the medics (whether it’s asked for or not), more tba.

BACKGROUND

PLACE OF BIRTH. salem, oregon.

CURRENT RESIDENCE. ravenswood, washington.

NATIONALITY. american.

ETHNICITY. white.

PARENTS. randall ’randy’ munroe ( father ) ; was extremely close to her dad, one of the few people she completely trusted and idolized. biological mom unknown.

SIBLINGS. tucker munroe ( half brother ) ; same dad, different moms. indifferent to each other growing up, keith’s death brought them together & they shared a close bond. currently mia.

BIRTH ORDER. eldest.

CHILDREN. none.

LANGUAGES. english, broken spanish.

HISTORY

EARLY STAGES. she was born and raised in salem, oregon without knowing her mother ( who’d abandoned her and her father when jo was just a baby ). her dad, randy, and his family did their absolute best to raise jolene with what resources they had. the munroe’s were engaged in criminal activities, which she adamantly refused to participate in, wanting to separate herself from the stigma attached to the family name by studying and working hard. as family, though, jo felt an obligation to always be loyal, and as a coroner, she would cover up the real cause of death with a fabrication of her own if the truth ever directly linked to anyone in her family.

HELLISH OUTBREAK. the first interaction she had with the undead was while she was on the clock. a john doe had been brought in, no identification, and it was just her that night, other than the lone security guard. after finishing a routine autopsy and then hearing banging coming from the refrigerated storage, jo’s curiosity lead her into a scuffle with the formerly, entirely deceased. fortunately, the security guard broke it up and saved jo from a lethal mauling. unfortunately, said guard ended up receiving the same mauling he had pried her from. escaping out into the chaos that had been unfolding on the streets, she linked up with her brother and together they abandoned everything they knew in order to survive.

they would meet up with other survivors for short periods of time, usually just to help each other out if needed, before going their separate ways again. it was the two of them against the world, until it wasn’t. while scavenging for supplies in an abandoned town, a horde of the undead caught them off guard and they were forced to separate, evidently losing each other. jo tried for days to track him down, to find any sort of hint or clue to his whereabouts, but always came up with nothing.

it was while she was on the hunt that she stumbled across a damsel in distress ( @rubydelgado ), quick reflexes saving the other woman from a fate worse than death with a shot clean through the infected’s head. while jo had instinctively learned not to trust anyone other than her brother, she didn’t have the heart to abandon ruby, especially considering she was also on her own. with time, jo taught the other how to defend herself, and they stuck together through thick and thin, developing an unbreakable bound by the time they reached ravenswood.

COMPOUND LIFE. despite the hardships the new world has delivered, jo has softened a great deal, finally understanding that being able to trust good people is the key to strength in a community. she’s very much a team player, and wants whatever’s best for the people she’s grown attached to in ravenswood, but she still holds certain reservations, especially in regards to oversharing the specifics of her family.

while she has firsthand experience with the deceased, the former coroner doesn’t want anything to do with the animated version, unless she’s putting it to rest. so, instead of volunteering to hop into the medical branch of their community, jo settled on a different way to pitch in; fishing. it was something she learned and mastered as a means of survival since the initial outbreak, and the job itself was a lot less stressful in comparison to what some others were enlisted to do. but that doesn’t mean jo isn’t on standby - when the going gets tough, she’s always ready to jump into action.

CONNECTIONS

HALF BROTHER. this is definitely not needed, but it would def spice things up and rock jo’s carefully sculpted world. they were distant growing up, but linked up to mourn over their dad and had been close ever since. they were forced to split up and evidently lost each other while escaping a zombie horde, so for all jo knows, he could be dead. or ..... maybe he’s still alive.

FISHING BUDDY. two pals catching fish, shooting the shit; a wholesome bubble created to escape the insanity around them, if only for a couple hours. this should be a very carefree friendship, relaxed & silly at times. they probably reminisce over the old world and all the simple pleasures they took for granted, maybe they partake in a little harmless gossiping / ‘neighborhood watch’?? anything dumb to keep themselves entertained while waiting for a bite.

ENTANGLEMENT. a means of relieving high stress is always needed while surviving a zombie apocalypse, which is how this whole mess started. the idea was having something like a booty call, intimacy without the strings because it’s too wild of a life out here to build something solid. they’ve foolishly gotten attached overtime, though neither will admit it, so they’ve never had the “what are we” conversation and, so far, they’re content with that. obv more detail, etc. can be discussed.

FRICTION. obviously not everything is gonna be peaches and cream all the time, every single person isn’t going to see eye to eye with the next person, and jo isn’t exactly the easiest person to handle. so give me the Tension. whether it’s subtle jabs & 'if looks could kill’, or full blown arguments & destruction, or somewhere in between.

ANYTHING. literally anything. i blame my groggy state of mind on my lack of creativity rn so please, i’m beggin. if jolene can enrich your characters’ lives in any way, shape, or form, hit me up and we’ll hatch a plan.

#harvesthq:intro #yikes i'll add onto this later

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fancyfearful · 4 years ago

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(Happy International Women’s Day/Women’s History Month, y’all! Please enjoy some quality fun time with a true girlboss.)

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WARNING/DISCLAIMER: Mature/Explicit themes, and ‘potential simp behavior’ are in this fic. Celia is a queen, idc.

Word Count: 2,042

(Edit: I forgot to tag @gatobob , who owns this character, whoops!)

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You were scared at first.

After all, you had gone from being naked and terrified in a dimly lit showroom, to waking up several hours later in a rundown, abandoned office building located far away from your home. A pair of handcuffs kept your wrists bound behind your back, but whomever kidnapped you had been 'generous' enough to dress you in semi-casual office clothes, though they were a bit too loose on your body.

The only thing you knew was that the person responsible for bringing you here had the voice of a matured woman. However, the sound of sharp heels clicking against the ground warned you of their arrival, seconds before she entered the small breakroom where you were being kept.

Upon meeting the well-dressed, businesswoman for the first time, you learned a few things. Her name was Celia and she was noticeably taller than the average woman, even with her heels on. But if looks could kill, then the mocha-colored eyes that looked over your body would've ended your life in seconds. You weren't sure if she was tired, irritated or both but regardless, Celia staring at your body made you feel uncomfortable.

During her 'introduction', Celia informed you that your new purpose in life was to be her personal stress reliever, and that resistance of any kind was unacceptable, including trying to escape. She also pointed out something you had somehow missed earlier; an ankle bracelet attached to your leg. With a knowing smirk, Celia informed you that it came with a built in GPS to make sure that you wouldn't be able to leave without her knowledge. The brunette before you also mentioned something about several other 'secrets' that you'd find out about later, which did nothing to calm your nerves as she casually reached into the hidden pocket on her overshirt.

Celia pulled out a thin, bright red dog collar, dangling it between her fingers before making her way over to fasten it around your neck. She had made it a little too tight on purpose, and when she stepped back to see how it looked, the brunette couldn’t help but scoff.

“There, now you look like the dog you are. I hope for your sake you’ll be easier to train than the last one. It’d be a shame if I had to put down another pet…” Celia warned, dropping her voice to emphasize her point.

“Now, how about we teach you some new tricks?”

*****

The next few days had gone by faster than you expected, thanks to Celia’s rigorous training.

Most of your time was spent acting as living footrest or chair, while she took her sweet time reading through and answering important, work-related emails. If Celia had a good workday, you’d play games like fetch, where she’d reward you with cookies shaped like dog biscuits if you did well. But if you didn’t retrieve an item fast enough, your cruel captor would deliver punishment by whipping your back and torso with her chain flogger. And on bad workdays, you’d be subjected to a game of ‘cat and mouse’, where Celia gave you a few seconds to hide before hunting you down; if you were found in six minutes or less, she would beat you to the point of bruising with the nearest blunt object in the room. The stapler was quickly becoming one of her favourites items to carry around, and even a good workday couldn’t save you from whenever Celia felt the urge to watch you squirm. Her eyes practically lit up whenever she subjected you to several new piercings on your arms or legs, a high only the most forbidden of drugs could provide.

But today—or night, you couldn’t exactly tell what time of day it was down here—was different.

The familiar, yet haunting, sound of heels clacking along the ground was replaced by something that sounded firmer, and heavier in comparison. And for the first time since your arrival, you were worried that someone or something even worse than Celia would find you here.

However, seeing the familiar face of Celia suddenly appear in the doorway of the shabby office that had become your bedroom was bittersweet. But instead of her usual business attire, she donned a skin-tight, black body suit with thigh-high stockings, and her trademark red heels were replaced with thick, black wedges. Sure, you had noticed her figure from time to time, but the sudden style change made it even harder to look away. Instead, you tried to focus on the medium sized bag she was holding in her left hand.

“Ah, there’s my favourite dog. You look surprised to see me.” Celia says, making her way into the room before plopping herself down onto the desk nearby.

Her tone sounded lower than usual, and the end of her words were a bit slurred. If you had to guess, she had probably had a few drinks before coming here, something that wasn’t uncommon. Whenever it happened, Celia was a bit of a wildcard. She motioned for you to come closer, making you gulp nervously as she reached into her bag to retrieve a long chain with a clasp at the end. Sheepishly, you avoid eye contact while Celia attaches it to the collar around your neck, grinning proudly before she roughly tugs on your new leash.

“Now you’re really starting to look like a proper pet!” she comments, only to pat your head in a condescending manner. “And so well behaved too, isn’t that right?”

You nod slowly, feeling your cheeks burn in shame. This wasn’t right. Her backhanded compliments shouldn’t have affected you like this, but these moments with Celia were the only times you could interact with another living being. It was better than trying to keep a stray pill bug for company again, only for it to end up escaping.

“You should be grateful, you know. I turned you into something useful, something with value…” Celia adds, keeping one hand on your chain while the other tightly cupped your chin. “I saved you from being someone’s pathetic plaything. And yet I still have to tell you when to say ‘thank you’. How is that fair to me? Shouldn’t you know better by now?”

You nodded again, only to be struck across the face with a harsh slap. “Answer me!” Celia snarled, her face scrunched up in annoyance. She was losing her patience, and that was the last thing you wanted her to do.

“Y-Yes, miss Celia. I’m sorry for not knowing better.” You replied. “Thank you for giving me value.”

“Good! See, that’s what I like about you. You’re a quick learner, but there’s still something I’ve got to put to the test.” The brunette murmured, letting go of your chin before she pointed to the floor. “On your knees, pet. Let’s see if that face is as comfortable as it looks.”

You were visibly confused as you tried to process her request. Did she mean what you thought she meant, or--?

“Are you deaf? Because I’m pretty sure I just gave you a task to complete. And if you can’t do it, then I’ll replace you with someone who can...” Celia commanded, her voice booming and steady. It was the kind of tone that could melt you within seconds or break you without warning.

As quickly as you could, you dropped to your knees, trying to the ignore the dull ache that came with having them hit the floor too hard. Celia wound the excess length of your chain around her hand a few times, before yanking you towards the space between her parted legs. A muffled grunt escaped you as Celia’s legs wrapped around your neck and shoulders, keeping your face pinned against the smooth leather of her body suit while she kept an iron grip around your chain. The sweet scent of a strong smelling body spray invaded your nose, and although you wouldn’t admit it out loud, the fragrance was alluring.

“Well, pet? I’m waiting. Show me how grateful you are to be here.”

It was at that moment that you started to think she was right. Not because you didn’t miss your old life, or your freedom but because in a weird, twisted way, serving Celia gave you a purpose. And all things considered, your kidnapper could’ve been much worse; she kept you fed, clothed, and even though the building was falling apart, it still provided shelter from the elements.

And with this in mind, you started to kiss along her inner thighs, turning your face and neck as much as Celia’s grip would allow. She wiggled a little, smirking as she watched her current pet creep closer and closer towards one of her most sensitive areas, making the brunette smirk deviously.

With a shaky sigh, Celia pressed her hips forward, testing the waters of her new toy by lightly grinding her crotch against your face. The combination of your tightened collar, Celia’s thighs, and the added pressure of that damned leash was making it difficult to breathe, but Celia didn’t care about your declining oxygen supply. If anything, your struggling only made her legs clench even tighter, and you could barely make out the twisted pleasure on her face as she slowly tried to suffocate you, her eyes twinkling in delight while she leaned back a little.

Your tongue pressed itself up against the thin fabric covering over her body suit, earning an unexpected moan from your mistress before you closing any distance that remained between you two. Any other time, Celia would have punished you for touching her without permission, but in the heat of the moment, your hands wrapped themselves around her thighs, digging your nails into her stocking as your mouth worked to pleasure her as best as you could.

Paying attention to the sounds she made was paying off, making it a little easier to find her sweet spots, but you didn’t dare to move the dampened leather covering over her opening. Not without her say, at least.

But the loud moans and high pitched whines coming from your captor were enough to awaken something in you as well; a small part of Celia was at your mercy, and this was a chance you couldn’t pass up. And so, you doubled down on your efforts, licking, kissing, suckling, and nibbling on every ounce of flesh and fabric between Celia’s warm, plush thighs, using your tongue to express the gratitude that she craved.

Eventually, your efforts paid off in the form of a loud, breathy moan from Celia as she shuddered, clenching her legs around you so tight that your vision went black for a second or two. The bottom of her body suit was absolutely soaked with a mixture of her own juices, your saliva, and a bit of sweat between you both, yet the pleased chuckle Celia let out calmed your nerves. She only made that sound when something good happened.

“…Ooh…Haven’t done something like in ages…” she sighed as she relaxed her grip.

You were able to catch a glimpse of her face, her cheeks tinted bright red as she moved lose strands of hair away from her eyes. The firm, hardened expression typically worn by Celia had been temporarily replaced with a softer, more inviting expression. If it didn’t put you at risk to get kicked, you might even have kissed her. Nothing serious, as it just would have a quick peck on those plump, dark colored lips.

“Don’t look so lovestruck, dog. Just because I had a few drinks before showing up and felt like trying something new doesn’t mean that you’re walking out of here anytime soon. You’re mine for as long as I want you to be.” Celia huffed, yanking on the chain to remind you of your place. And with a sheepish smile, you nodded.

“Yes, miss Celia. Of course. Thank you.”

How you ended up in her possession was irrelevant. It didn't matter.

What did matter, was your value. Your worth. It was about what you could do for Celia, not the other way around. It was about acknowledging your rightful place under the command of a superior entity, and that entity was her.

#tpof #the price of flesh #gatobob #Celia Lede #celia tpof #Celia #Celia being a girlboss? We LOVE to see it!

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matchasprouts · 3 years ago

Text

Listen Closer - Chapter 11

[ MASSIVE trigger warning for gore this chapter!!!!! it's a trap so it's expected but still!!! do not read if you don't like described gore!!!! ]

First || Next || Previous || Last

An hour had passed, and it was time for the game to begin.

In the room Garrett was in, there was a small TV connected to the other cameras, so he could watch the progress of the other players until they left their rooms. He planned on being the last one to leave, to seem less suspicious.

Plus, seeing them gave him plenty of time to fake his trap.

He knew his reason had to be something that was obvious to his coworkers, so he chose his rudeness. John had once told him that he couldn’t go through life pushing away everyone he knew, so he took it and ran with it.

It was going to hurt, and he wasn’t sure if it would scar or not, but Garrett took his acting very seriously.

So he took the knife in the room, and slashed his mouth.

Thankfully, he was used to pain, so the scream that escaped him wasn’t real- he only made the sound because he could hear the other players, and he knew they would hear him too.

Though, the tears pricking his eyes did surprise him. But he didn’t stop there, sitting down in the chair in the center of the room and slamming his hands down on them with another scream of pain. That way, his blood would be on the chair.

He was taking this very seriously.

Once he was done, he turned his focus back to the cameras, knowing that it would take some time for him to “find” the key. So, while they struggled, he would watch, and wait.

Tyler was the first to wake up, probably because the contraption was in his mouth. He panicked for a minute, before spotting the tape. He played it, but Garrett didn’t have sound. That didn’t stop him from enjoying the panic the Jigsaw voice created.

Almost immediately, Tyler began pulling at the mechanism on his face, quickly learning that the hook holding it on were dug into his cheeks. He tried to scream, but didn’t get much out with his tongue being captured like that.

Joyce woke up at the scream, her head lolling around for a second before she realized she couldn’t move her arms. She gave a scream of her own, fighting to release her hands. Soon the cuff on her right arm clicked, and the chain it was attached to allowed her to start moving her arm. Her left wrist, however, stayed clamped to the chair. She found the tape in her lap and played it.

Almost immediately after Joyce started her tape, Nadia woke up. After groggily sitting up, their hands immediately came up to their face, feeling the iron mask they wore. They began to tear at the straps, only to learn they were locked on.

They actually noticed their tape faster than the other two, scrambling to grab it and play it.

Tyler seemed to have finished his tape and was now looking around for the knife that was promised. In order to get the key, he needed to “look inside himself”.

Lawrence had sewn the key into his bicep.

Tyler located the knife, practically lunging for it. Garrett imagined he was fueled by the panic from the rolling of the device clamping down on his tongue, because he stabbed into his upper arm with only a second of hesitation, screaming as he dragged it down to open it up.

Once there was a wide enough opening, Tyler stuck his fingers in and removed the key. He struggled with getting the key into the lock, but finally managed it, unlocking the device and ripping it out of his face. It hit the ground with a thunk hard enough for Garrett to hear.

He could see now that Tyler was bleeding from the mouth, meaning the device had dug in at least a little into his tongue before he managed to get it off.

Now he was looking for the key to the door, which was hidden in the mattress, just like Nadia’s. All of them were hidden there, it just made it easier.

While Tyler was looking for the key, Joyce was getting her fingers crushed. Garrett was pretty sure he'd never heard her voice go so high-pitched, even though she’d been on HRT for a very long time now.

He couldn’t hear her sobs, but he could see that she was crying. Finally, with a shaky hand, she took the knife strapped to the left side of the chair. She hesitated but, with another scream, cut off her remaining two fingers on her left hand.

Garrett looked up at the camera in his room, and the cuffs clicked open. She was free, and now she needed to find the key to the door.

He let out another scream, of frustration this time, just to make it seem more believable. If he just went silent out of nowhere, that would be suspicious.

Nadia held his attention now, since Tyler had managed to get out of his room, followed closely behind by Joyce.

They were struggling to find the key, banging on the walls now in desperation. They only had a few more seconds left and then-

They found the key, jamming it into the lock and turning it at the last second.

Nadia let out a howling scream of pain as the very tips of the spikes pierced their face, one of them scraping their eye as they pulled the mask away. Then they curled in on themselves on the floor, sobbing loud enough that it could be heard through the walls.

Garrett changed his mind. It would make more sense for Nadia to be last to leave.

He grabbed the key to his door, jamming it in the lock and leaving the room.

Joyce and Tyler, who had run over to Nadia’s door at the sound of their cries, now turned to look at him.

“Garrett!” Joyce yelled, running straight for him while Tyler stayed by Nadia’s door, attempting to talk to them through it. “Where- where are we!?”

“I don’t.. I don’t know,” Garrett replied, making his voice shake just as much as his bloodied hands. “Oh god Joyce, what happened to your hand?” he asked, looking down at her mutilated left hand.

“What happened to your face!?” she replied, bringing her good hand up to the gushing wound on Garrett’s lips.

Garrett brought his own hand up to his face, feeling the gash for the first time. It was deeper than he’d realized- it would definitely need stitches. Damn it, that meant a night in the hospital. He couldn’t believe he let himself get carried away.

Luckily, Nadia’s door opened, and the focus was on them. “I’ve got you,” Tyler told them, helping them stand. They were still crying, their tears melding with the blood covering their face.

Now that they were all out of the rooms, it was time for Lawrence to tip off the police.

See, the main reason this game was taking place was not to rehabilitate Garret’s gossiping coworkers, it was to get Strahm off their backs. If Garrett was put into another trap, it would solidify that he wasn’t Jigsaw, and if Mark was at the precinct the entire time, it would mean he wasn’t Jigsaw either.

Again, Garrett had planned it down to the smallest possible detail.

“We- we all got out,” Nadia spoke up, leaning heavily against Tyler now, “so doesn’t that- doesn’t that mean we get to go free?”

“Wishful thinking,” Joyce replied, looking into the center of the room where the pièce de résistance sat.

The machine that was placed in the center of the room was one of Garrett’s longest running projects, one he had been working on since his first day of apprenticehood. It wasn’t anything special- it was just big as fuck.

“Oh shit,” Garrett muttered, continuing to sell his role as a fellow player.

There were multiple slots in the contraption, three to be exact. Just short of one for each person. They couldn’t see the inside, there was no glass and the only openings were the slots, which didn’t have open bottoms.

Tyler was the one to notice and grab the tape player on top of the machine, pausing for a second before pressing the play button.

“Hello Tyler, Joyce, Nadia, Garrett. I want to play a game,” Jigsaw’s voice rang out from the player, and everyone fell silent to listen. “So you have all escaped your rooms. Good job. However, our game is not over. I have one more test for you- one that will cost you more than your gossiping ways.”

“In order to open the door that will lead you to your freedom, three of you must offer something to the machine in front of you. Who will be the odd man out? Are you willing to give up even more in order to survive? Live or die. The choice is yours.”

The tape cut off, but the silence remained.

“Only three…?” Joyce finally spoke up, confused as to why it would only need three.

“It’s probably to create unrest within us,” Garrett answered, despite knowing that it was because he assumed Nadia would be the only casualty. “I- I study these traps, these games, and he likes to turn people against each other.”

“Oh god,” Nadia muttered to themself, choking back a sob. “I- I can offer something,” they added, surprising everyone. “My eye is screwed… I can’t- I can’t see out of it. I don’t want it in my head.”

That… was fair. They reached out to Garrett, holding her hand open for the knife he held. He paused, before wiping his blood off of it with his shirt. Then he handed it to them.

He and Joyce had to look away when Nadia plunged the knife into their socket, screaming as they pulled it out and cut the optic nerve. After taking a second to breathe, they dropped the eye into one of the slots. It immediately closed.

“O… okay… who’s next?” Nadia asked, looking around at the rest of them. No one spoke, or moved, until Joyce came over and grabbed the knife.

“These are gonna have to come off anyway so… I might as well get it over with,” she rationalized, not giving herself time to hesitate before placing her left hand flat on the machine and chopping off the crushed fingers.

The finger went into another slot that closed once they were inside.

Now it was Garrett and Tyler. Garrett was about to take the knife when Tyler snatched it away from him, surprising him deeply,

Tyler was the only one that Garrett would have even vaguely considered a friend, mostly because of an odd puppy crush Tyler seemed to have on him. It was cute, and he never had the heart to tell him to fuck off.

However, it seemed that that puppy crush would be useful.

“We probably can’t offer the same thing,” Tyler said aloud, looking down at himself as he decided which body part he would be the least upset about losing, “and- and I don’t think there’s a weight limit.”

There wasn’t. As long as there was SOMETHING that hit the bottom of the slots, they would close and the door would open, but Garrett couldn’t say that.

After a moment of deliberation, Tyler pulled a fucking Van Gogh and cut off his ear.

He dropped the appendage that was formerly his into the final slot, and it closed. The lock on the door clicked, and they all rushed toward it.

Just in time too, they could hear sirens outside.

“It’s the cops!” Tyler yelled, placing his hands on the heavy iron door. He couldn’t open it himself, so Garrett grabbed it as well. Together, they slowly pulled the door open, allowing Joyce and Nadia to escape first.

Tyler followed them at Garrett’s assistance, and once he was out, Garrett followed. The door slammed shut behind them as they escaped, and the lights all shut off at the same time.

Garrett had it do that on purpose. Lawrence needed time to remove the TV in Garrett’s room, and clean up anything else that would implicate them. With the unbreakable windows, it would take a while for the police to get in, and that’s what they wanted.

It was raining now, Garrett realized, though it hadn’t been when the game first started. Almost immediately they were all soaked, and he imagined the cops that were climbing out of their cars were too.

A pair of car doors slammed shut, and Garrett heard two people rushing over to them. He could vaguely make out Mark’s voice calling out to him, but everything sounded like it was underwater. He was losing a lot more blood than he thought, and the adrenaline was wearing off.

He fell forward, falling into a pair of strong arms. He knew it wasn’t Mark, he could see Mark coming over to them.

… Strahm? Shit. He was definitely going to say something about the blood Garrett was getting all over his shirt. He tried to pull away, but Strahm tightened his grip on him, keeping him against his chest. Warmth seeped into his bones from the strong hold, despite the cold rain attempting to chill them.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” he heard the agent tell him, feeling Mark’s heavy coat draping over his shoulders before everything went dark.

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