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vannahfanfics · 4 years

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From Time to Time

Category: Friendship Fluff

Fandom: Noragami

Characters: Kofuku, Daikoku

“Daikoku~” Kofuku keened as she waddled up behind where he was standing at the kitchen counter lazily flipping through a magazine. Her fingers hooked behind her back as she impatiently stood behind him. Daikoku grunted, not turning towards her as he was too engrossed in the reading material. Not one to be ignored, she boosted herself onto her tiptoes. Of course, even with the few extra centimeters in height, Kofuku had no hope of clearing the grand climax of his broad shoulders; thus, she shuffled a little bit of the left and cocked her head so she could peek around his large arms at the publication he was perusing. A great big smile split her face when she realized it was a cooking magazine.

“Daikoku~” she cooed once more. “Daikoku, I’m hungry.”

“You’re a centuries-old god,” the large man challenged brusquely, adding a disdainful sniff that made Kofuku’s bottom lip poke out in a sour pout. “You are capable of cooking for yourself.” Kofuku whined and began pawing at his button-up shirt. He knew perfectly well that Kofuku lacked cooking skills; he’d lived with her long enough.

“Daikokuuuuuu, you know I can’t cook! I burn everything because of the misfortunnnne,” she whined, dragging her fingers into the cotton fabric of his shirt. From her angle, she could see the rugged line of his jaw tense, belied by the beginnings of a smile curling at the edges of his lips. He had long since ceased flipping pages, instead avidly scouring the article detailing a recipe for shrimp fried rice. Kofuku pressed her squishy cheeks into the muscle of his arm and batted her salmon-colored eyelashes for good measure. “Pleeeeeease?”

Daikoku released a deep sigh, dropping the magazine down on the tiled countertop. Kofuku cheered with delight, however, as he reached up to pull open the cabinets level with his head.

“Such a needy thing,” he tutted, rifling through the dishes with his eyes closed for he knew the placement of everything in the kitchen by heart at this point. Kofuku giggled and hugged his waist, barely able to loop her fingers together due to his bulk. She blushed elatedly as he flashed her a warm smile.

Kofuku kept her arms snug around Daikoku’s waist, tottering behind him like a duckling, as he strolled around the kitchen. He was very much used to her childish antics, so it didn’t even faze him that she adhered to him like glue. When he opened the refrigerator to retrieve the eggs, vegetables, and shrimp, Kofuku wrinkled up her nose from the cold air blasted into her face. Daikoku bundled it all in one arm, balancing the packages and ingredients precariously as he used his free hand to swing the appliance shut. He then returned to the counter, pushing the recipe to the side to dump all the ingredients into his workspace. Kofuku wedged her head underneath his right armpit so she could watch him prepare the food.

Kofuku loved it when Daikoku cooked, primarily because he simply worked wonders with food. He handled the kitchen knife with expert precision, chopping the vegetables into little chunks without even really concentrating. He could be reading three steps ahead on the recipe while his hands still maneuvered the blade and half-cut carrot or onion or leek, cubing with rapid tak-tak-tak-taks. Kofuku found it so amazing. Despite her looming misfortune blighting people wherever she went, Daikoku never suffered any mishaps while in the kitchen. She wondered why that was, but never wanted to investigate too far lest she ruin the apparent good-luck spell.

Kofuku loved it when Daikoku cooked, but she always felt some sadness too. I can only watch. I can never help. Kofuku had never tried to cook with Daikoku, but she knew the result all the same; Kofuku couldn’t cook for herself. All manners of comedic accidents destroyed her efforts- lighting spontaneous fires, dropping bowls and splattering things all over the floor, tripping and slathering a finished dish all down her front. Before Daikoku, Kofuku had suffered every tearjerking cooking disaster in the book and then some.

Kofuku’s violet eyes trained on his large hands skillfully deveining the shrimp. If she thought too hard about it, she would cry, and Daikoku hated it when she cried.

“You’re awful quiet,” he quipped suddenly. He did not look up from his work; he didn’t have to. He could carry on a full conversation even while preparing the ingredients. Kofuku pressed further into his warm body, feeling comforted by the gentle heat enveloping her front. It chased the cold sadness away, even if only a little. Kofuku wasn’t quite sure why the melancholy had gripped her so tightly in its sharp, cold claws tonight; it was a wily beast, sneaking up on one when they least expected it, she supposed. Sighing, she pushed her cheek into the meat of his side until she could feel his ribs and her teeth clacking together.

“I’m sorry.”

Daikoku stopped moving immediately.

“Sorry?” he echoed.

Kofuku felt the cold flush of shame push through her arteries. Instead of meeting his gaze as it flickered down to her, she focused on the lumps of shrimp piled on the plastic cutting board. The silver knife flashed as he lowered it. When he wiped his hands on her apron, she knew it was in preparation to cup her cheeks, and she hurriedly pressed her face into his side to shield it from his affections.

“Hey…” His deep voice rumbled through her person, bringing warmth to battle the raging cold swirling inside her body. He lifted his arm to gently push her form until she was standing in front of him. Her face skidded along the curve of his ribcage to press into his sternum. She couldn’t see his expression, not compressed into his shirt just before the point of suffocation, but she could just tell he was gazing down at her with a bemused smile. “Hey,” he repeated, resting his hands first on her shoulders. They soon slid down to gently hold the point of her arms just below. “Talk to me.”

Kofuku squeezed him tightly. She’d gone from happy to sad to embarrassed, all in a matter of minutes; the emotional rollercoaster left her brain jelly, unable to control any of her nerves. Her tongue flopped like lead in her mouth, heavy and useless. Finally, she managed to force herself to speak.

“I shouldn’t make you take care of me like this… It’s not fair.”

“Kofuku.” A cringe jerked her body at the pain in his voice. Tears sprung to the corners of her eyes, but she could only stand there, rooted to the floor, as he pried himself away from her iron grip to crouch down in front of her. His hands slid back up her shoulders to hold her neck for a moment. He could probably feel her blood pulsing through her carotids; could he feel the guilt tainting the red liquid, killing her from the inside out one poisoned cell at a time? When they slipped up to hold her cheeks gently, big thumbs sweeping over the lines of her jawbone to catch the tears rolling over them, she released a small, involuntary moan of despair. “What brings this on all of a sudden?”

Kofuku poked out her bottom lip again and slowly swung her hips from side to side, suddenly bashful.

“I just… I dunno,” Kofuku evaded. Her purple eyes shifted to fix momentarily on everything but his face. Her unfocused gaze flitted to the seam of his shirt sleeve, the kitchen bar behind him, the clock on the opposite wall, the houseplant glistening with water droplets from where she’d watered it not thirty minutes ago. When her eyes landed on her feet, hyper-focusing on the little flyaway threads wisping from the toes of her socks, she mumbled, “I can’t help you do anything because I mess everything up, so I just dump all the work on you. It’s not right… I’m horrible-”

Her voice cracked with the last word as a fresh wave of guilt crashed over her. Kofuku released a broken sob and reached up over his arms to rub at her red, tear-filled eyes. “Th-this is not how a god sh-should treat her R-regalia… I should kn-know better, but…” As she faltered, she felt Daikoku’s knuckles softly ghost over her cheek. The sweet touch made her pull her hands away from her eyes to flutter her lashes. His kind, smiling face appeared within the mosaic formed by her tears.

“But…?” he pressed. Meekly, Kofuku dropped her hands to hold onto his biceps.

“But… It makes me happy… Watching you do all the things I can’t do for us,” Kofuku admitted quietly. She expected him to laugh, or snort, or even grow angry at her inconsideration for his feelings. Instead, Daikoku’s smile widened, and he leaned forward to press his forehead against hers.

Though Kofuku’s cheeks had always flushed from her crying spell, they darkened still, shining the rosy hue of her hair as his face rested so close that she could feel his hot breath puffing over hers. It smelled vaguely like mint, and just like the herb, it spread soothing calm through her frayed nerves.

“If you are happy, my lady, then I will gladly do those things for the rest of time.” As Daikoku purred the words with a broad smile, Kofuku could not help the tiny grin that began to tug the corners of her lips up. “You don’t have to worry about me,” he chuckled. “I’ve long since accepted taking care of you. You are the one who gave me this life. The least I can do is make you some fried rice from time to time.” Kofuku wanted to argue his liberal use of from time to time. However, Daikoku was already rising, pulling her hands away from his arms by her wrist. She squeaked as he maintained his grip on them to manipulate her body like a puppet, deftly spinning her on her toes to deposit her against the counter.

“Daikoku, hey- Oof!” All the breath forcibly expelled from her body as he smooshed her between the counter and his solid build. His laugh thundered against her back, making her puff out her cheeks indignantly. “Is this your form of payback?”

“Maybe~” he sneered, flashing her a wink and a roguish smile before retrieving his kitchen knife. His tall form enclosed around her as he leaned in to resume his preparations. “You like to watch me work, yeah?” he hummed. “You can see much more up here.”

Kofuku’s face burned hotter than the oven ever could now. Still, pressed between the marble and Daikoku’s sturdy frame, she wasn’t going anywhere. Resigning herself to her fate, she reclined back against his muscular chest and allowed her eyes to follow his skillful movements. A serene smile soon spread across her face. Really, it wasn’t a bad spot to be in; she could see so much more up there, and with his warmth wrapping her up like a fresh-spun cocoon, it was almost impossible for the crushing doubt to creep back in.

“Daikoku…”

“Hmm?”

She snuggled into him, eyes lidded with contentment.

“Thanks.”

Daikoku grunted, too absorbed in reading the magazine recipe once again. He had to get it just right for his lady, after all.

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

#noragami #kofuku #daikoku #kofuku noragami #daikoku noragami #noragami fanfiction #noragami fanfic

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fangirlxwritesx67 · 5 years

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Hey lovelies, you like the sexy Rowena? Here you go!

In The Library

Tags: 18+, sex, smut, oral sex (both man and woman receiving), no condom, consent, lots of sex

A/N- this one-shot was inspired by the library scene in 13x21, a bit of comic relief in a kinda brutal episode. I've borrowed the setting, Rowena's outfit, Gabriel's last line and, oh, the red book. Besides that, I just let my mind fill in the details.

Any hunter worth their salt knows that you should never, under any circumstances, leave a witch and an angel alone together. And, if you really absolutely have to leave a witch and an angel alone together, you should definitely never leave them locked in a library.

...

Rowena drummed her pale slim fingers against the thick wooden library table, her golden glossy nails making a light tapping sound.

We will be back soon, Dean had said.

Keep an eye on Gabriel, Sam had said.

Stay out of trouble, Castiel had said.

Rowena scoffed. All the boys needed to do was track down one missing element for a spell. How hard could it be? And yet she had been left, locked in this library, with the trickster angel Gabriel for hours now.

At first, he had occupied himself trying to bait Rowena into conversation but she had ignored him. Giving up, he went to wander around the library to see what sort of trouble he could get into. Now, Rowena was wishing she hadn't been quite so hasty. Watching him move from stack to stack, she realized that he wasn't that hard on the eyes. Rowena would never admit it but he did have a rather cute little ass. Not to mention those eyes- golden brown like honey and always flashing with mischief.

...

Gabriel sighed as he trailed his fingers lightly over the spines of the leather books that filled the shelves of the library. He had no interest in these books and he was bored- so bored. Judging by the rhythm Rowena was drumming, she was too.

Gabriel sneaked a glance her way. Her haughty face was still turned away from him and he took in the sight of her profile- her long dark lashes, her pert nose, and her sassy little chin. She was beautiful, he supposed, with that tight little body and that creamy white skin.

...

Rowena shifted in her chair. Being 300 years old wasn't that easy and her back could grow stiff when she sat for too long. Pushing the chair away, she stood up to stretch. As she arched her back, her perky breasts rose against the front of her golden sweater.

Now this was something interesting, thought Gabriel.

Rowena lifted one slim leg and placed it on the chair in front of her, bending forward to stretch out her calf. Her black pencil skirt pulled tight across her hips.

That ass- so round, so perfect- he wondered what she looked like naked.

Gabriel wandered over to the table with a studied casualness. "Hey Ro," he said with a wicked glimmer in his eyes, "are you bored?"

Rowena condescended to nod once.

"I have an idea of something we could do together, something good." Gabriel whispered in her ear. Startled, Rowena turned to look at him. Gabriel took advantage of the moment to take her face in his hands and kiss her hard.

Rowena gasped and slapped him across the face. Gabriel grinned his saucy grin. "Oh, so you like it rough, do you? This is going to be good."

Rowena hesitated just a moment and then threw her arms around Gabriel neck, pulling his face into hers and kissing him back. Oh, his lips felt so good!

Gabriel ran his hands down the back of Rowena's golden sweater to settle on her hips. She was so tiny that his hands fit almost around her waist. He could practically pick her up, do whatever he wanted with her. Instead his hand slid down to her ass. Yes, it felt as good as it looked- surprisingly full and warm on her slim body.

"Yes," Rowena whispered, wrapping one leg around Gabriel. He tangled his hands in her thick red curls, pulling her head back to reveal her milky white throat. He nibbled her teasingly along her jaw and then kissed down the vein in her neck until his lips rested in the hollow of her throat. Her collarbones were just visible above the collar of her sweater, and he swirled his tongue in that sweet spot. Rowena moaned.

...

Then Gabriel did pick her up, setting her down on a low bookshelf that ran around the room. Taking her tiny ankles in his hands, he ran his fingertips up her shapely legs, careful not to snag her thin nylon stockings. His legs went up under her skirt up over her knee and felt the smooth warmth of her bare thigh. Gabriel stopped and lifted her skirt for a peek. Rowena was wearing a black garter belt and no panties?! This was going to be good.

Gabriel spread her hips wide, pushing her hem up to reveal her creamy soft thighs. He placed her legs over his shoulders -oh, she was so flexible- and pressed his face to the patch of red hair between them. As he kissed and sucked her there, Rowena threw her head back and moaned. Tangling her fingers in the angel's long brown hair she pushed him down harder.

Gabriel was so bad, but so very very good.

Before long Rowena's breath caught in her throat. She panted hard and then quickly came. A warm flush spread up Rowena's elegant neck and over her pale freckled cheeks as Gabriel drew back and looked at her. "Ro, are you still bored?" He asked with a throaty chuckle. Purring with delight, Rowena pushed his shoulders back and slid down into his arms.

As Gabriel embraced her for another kiss, she felt his erection hard against her above her belly button.

"Your turn now," Rowena said. She reached for his belt and, in one motion, undid his pants and pushed him back into a leather armchair. She had never particularly thought about whether or not angels might have nice cocks. It turns out that they did, or at least this angel did. He was even longer than she would have expected for a man his height, and thick, and so ready.

Kneeling between his thighs, Rowena gave Gabriel's cock the same attention that he had given her. She watched his face as he sighed with pleasure, her green eyes bright with lust and power. Gabriel prided himself on his longevity, but it was as if Rowena was magic. He stroked her silky red hair as his pleasure built. His climax scorched through him like a bolt of lightning and he moaned as he bucked forward. Rowena pulled her head back just in time for him to come all over his own thighs.

...

After Gabriel caught his breath, he slipped out of the chair to sit on the floor with Rowena. Their bodies tangled together as they kissed and kissed. He slid his hands up under her golden sweater and cupped her breasts. He could feel that her bra was lace. He could feel her nipples rise under his fingertips. He tweaked one playfully, and at the same time, jammed his tongue into her mouth. Rowena gasped and arced against him. In no time at all Gabriel was hard again. With a wicked look in her cat green eyes Rowena took him in her hands.

"Oh Ro," he said, "not this time."

He pushed Rowena's shoulders back to the floor and rose up over her. She pulled her skirt all the way up to her tiny waist. Gabriel lifted his eyes to watch her face as he plunged into her in one hard motion. Rowena moaned as he thrust her against the floor, and began to move her hips in a slow circle. Together, their bodies quickly found a rhythm. Her green eyes caught his golden ones and she grinned seductively.

They were lost in their shared sensation when suddenly Gabriel heard something- the security system on the bunker had unlocked, and the boys were back. He couldn't let them get caught like this but he also couldn't stop. Boots tramped down the stairs towards the door. A shiver went through his whole body -fear, pleasure, he didn't know- but suddenly he was coming again, burying himself deep inside Rowena. She felt him shudder on top of and inside her, and ground against his hips. She bit her lip but a small yelp escaped her as she came right after him.

...

Through the fog of pleasure in his brain, Gabriel heard the library door click open. In one motion, he stood up and pulled up his pants, but where was his belt? Rowena scrambled to her feet, pulling down her skirt.

"Hey guys," Dean called.

Gabriel grabbed the nearest book, a large red atlas, to cover his undone pants and still half erect cock. He tried to lean against a bookshelf casually. Rowena slid into view next to him, still brushing off the back of her skirt.

"Oh! Uh.." stammered Gabriel "We were just... Reading. Books. Here in the, uh, library."

Rowena nodded, brushing aside one of the tangled red curls that fell into her face.

The Winchester brothers stared at them, their faces splashed with shock.

Gabriel glanced around everywhere, anywhere but at Rowena. "The library! Which is the room we're in right now."

Dean let out a choking sound while Sammy smothered what sounded an awful lot like a giggle.

...

Castiel shook his head. Hunters, he thought.

Everybody knows you never, under any circumstances, leave a witch and an angel alone together, especially not in the library.

#supernatural fanfiction #in the library #spn 13x21 #rowena #rowena x gabriel #robriel #angel x witch #fangirlxwritesx67

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stagekiller · 5 years

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RAM

Meme

{ always accepting :D }

Smell of polished wood. Little green eyes peeking through a crack in the door. Freckled ears eavesdrop in silence.

“ Mr. Wilson, you know full well that I can’t call child support without your permission.”

Golden sunlight pierces through the office window, reflecting on her blonde head. It grants her silky waves a golden sparkle as they gently caress her shoulders; a discreet halo. Vivid blue regards the man sternly, as a small pour forms on her rosy lips. Soft wrinkles form on her satin white shirt. Her face is clean and her voice is honeyed, radiating an aura of hope. Her presence comes in stark contrast with the headmaster’s gloomy office ; in the child’s eyes she’s like an angel in the middle of a funeral.

“ Do you really want to start a fuss with circus people? ”

The headmaster’s voice is firm and rigid. Even his tone betrays how conservative his thought is. Thick-framed glasses sit on top of the eggplant he has for a nose. A little freckled nose scrunches up in distaste at the sound of his voice, hiding behind the door.

“ If it is to help a child that’s clearly suffering, then yes.”

She sounds determined. The headmaster huffs loudly in response.

“ I understand that Valeska needs special attendance, but our school doesn’t offer such services. Why don’t you go to the municipality and ask for a social worker? ”

“ Because I need your written permission for that. ”

“ I’m afraid I can’t do that, Sorkin. ” He shakes his head.

“ Why? Because your name will be on the paper? ” The response comes sharp as a blade. Her voice is trembling as she starts to lose her temper.

“ Because, as I said, I’m not a social worker, I’m a headmaster. And I’m not gonna step into other people’s field. Valeska is not a registered student. It’s not in my jurisdiction to interfere. We’re already being generous by letting him attend, despite all the trouble he’s causing. You know it well yourself that your colleagues can’t wait to say goodbye. ”

A pause that seems to last forever; tension reaches its climax as they stare into each other’s eyes, both unwilling to back off.

“ You’re in the wrong profession, Mr. Wilson. ”

The teacher finally comments, her gentle voice laced in bitterness. His bushy brows furrow at her response. But Ms. Sorkin has already pushed herself off the table with a small scoff, as if she couldn’t care less what Wilson has to say. She probably doesn’t, Jerome thinks.

“ And you’re not being realistic, Ms. Sorkin. ”

She heads for the door without another word. Small feet quickly retreat to the middle of the hall. Black heels tap behind them, echoing down the empty corridor. The woman starts to head in the opposite direction; but her blue eyes seem to have caught sight of the red head staring at her intensely.

“ Oh. ” She turns around slowly. Her features soften, as if she purposefully hides the tension from her previous conversation away from the eyes of the kid. “ Hi there, Jerome. ” She still sounds a bit more stiff and awkward than usual. Her eye darts to the side. She’s nervous, Jerome concludes, because she realizes he might have overheard something. “ I- aren’t you supposed to be in class? ” The scold has a hint of playfulness, as it always does with Ms. Sorkin.

The child approaches slowly, then extends both hands to display the paper he’s been carrying all the while. It’s an A4 drawing paper, ripped off from a coloring book. The picture depicts a clown holding a balloon, drawn in thick black lines to help kids stay within the lines. Though in Jerome’s case, they didn’t do the trick; the clown has been painted a solid red, but he completely failed to stay within the lineart. He hands it over with a serious expression. Ms. Sorkin’s face lights up with a beautiful smile.

“ Ah, right I totally forgot about your project! I’m so sorry! ” After a brief inspection, she offers the child a thumbs up. “ You did a great job on this one. Maybe next time you could try mixing some more colors, that might be fun. Don’t you think? ” Ms. Sorkin’s voice is so full of life. She buzzes with energy. So does Jerome, but hers seems to be more controlled. The vibe is not as rough and jagged as Jerome’s sudden fluctuations, it’s a smooth soundwave. When she speaks, the birds’ chirping becomes more melodic. Yet, her smile falters when she notices how quiet her student is ; unusually quiet, in fact.

“… Everything okay? ”

He decides to swallow the words for once. It’s not easy to do. He wants to yell and tear the papers apart, scratch the walls and throw eggs at Mr. Wilson’s car.But at the same time part of him has already grown accustomed to this learned helplessness. His can’t help his face falling, though. After a while, Ms. Sorkin makes a weird expression - the child can’t comprehend if she’s pitying him or if she’s annoyed - and kneels before him. Her face is now on his level, where he can stare right into her sparkling blue eyes; she really is enchanting.

Why can’t she be his mom instead ?

“ Don’t listen to him, Jerome. ” Her warm hand rests on his tiny shoulder, expression tender and full of something the boy is unable to understand; affection. “ You can do great things. ” She gives him a light pat and tucks a few strawberry strands behind his ear. Freckled cheeks are tinted a light pink. Ms. Sorkin’s smile grows tender. When she speaks again, her voice is smooth and exerts a nurturing warmth. It almost unsettles him. “ Hey, don’t forget we have a rehearsal after class tomorrow! Have you memorized your lines?”

“ Yes Ms. Sorkin. ” The response sounds robotic. His discreet nod is very unlike the usual cheerfulness; Ms. Sorkin knows he’s a bomb when he wants to be. But, unlike the other teachers, she appreciates that.

“ Great! I’ll see you then.” She offers a warm pat on the back and stands straight up again. The boy still looks down in the dumps, but perhaps not as upset as before. Ms. Sorkin doesn’t seem satisfied with that outcome though. She purses her lips and offers yet another kind smile, before pinching his cheek. “ Hey, come on. Give me a smile. ”

“ … ”

#{ thexgoodman }#You'd better not forget to clap! || {Asks answered}#{ Headcanons }

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victorluvsalice · 6 years

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Forgotten Vows Friday: Fixing You -- Creating A Wonderland

Just wrote what I think is a pretty cute section, so I figured I’d share it with all of you! We all like sneak peeks, right? :) This is set just post the climax, with Victor having defeated the last of his issues and freed one of his mental constructs from a pretty awful fate. He and Alice are discussing why his mental world currently looks like Burtonsville -- Alice suggesting that it might be because he felt that, since all his problems kind of started in Burtonsville, they should end there as well -- and as he expresses the desire for the place to look like it did after he took down the wall in “Remembering You,” he suddenly has a thought. . . (Obviously, some spoilers ahead, but without the full context I don’t think they’re that spoilery.)

"Maybe." Victor ran a finger along the window sill. "It – it kind of reminded me a bit of your Vale of Tears, last time," he added. "When I broke down the wall. That's what I'd like again. A forest full of pine trees, and little white flowers, and a clear flowing stream, and – and all sorts of butterflies–"

For no apparent reason, the skeletal butterfly he'd drawn on his invitation to Alice popped into his head. Victor had expected it to turn his stomach in remembrance of the awful Puppet-Hand Spider, but – there was something a lot lighter about the creature he'd sketched. Well, obviously, it flies, he thought with a little chuckle. But yes, it's more – fun, somehow. Maybe because I drew that with the intent of amusing Alice? Or maybe because it – it reminds me of the Land of the Dead. . . .

Alice tilted her head, watching him curiously. "You seem rather deep in thought all of a sudden."

"I just had an idea," Victor said, turning toward her. "I like the forest my mind came up with the first time – but wouldn't it be so much more interesting if the trees were blue?"

"What – like the forest we saw in the Land of the Dead?"

"Sort of! Only bright blue, just like the people," Victor said, waving his hand at an imaginary figure. "With the trunks twisted into shapes like tangled bones! And the leaves aren't just green – they're pumpkin orange, and royal purple, and lemon orange, and blood red! All those colors that I missed out on growing up! And there could be plants whose flowers grow in the shape of coffins, or mushrooms whose caps resembling grinning skulls. . .and the grass would be this brilliant, almost acid green, and the earth would be split by a huge river, that gathered into smooth pools for bathing, or tumbled down into giant ravines, spraying water everywhere as we jumped and floated down. . .and of course there'd be insects to find, crimson ladybugs and actual darning-needle dragonflies, and those butterflies that look like a pair of skeletal hands. . .oh, Alice, you wouldn't believe how many different kinds of butterflies I came up with when I was a child!" he cried, clasping his hands together.

"Try me," Alice said, grinning at his enthusiasm.

"No, really! You had the bread-and-butterflies, but I had just butter-flies – actual flying sticks of the stuff! And ones that glittered and shimmered in the sunlight like they were covered in tiny mirrors, or ones that glowed like I've heard fireflies do at night, rainbow-winged ones and ones as black as midnight. . . ." He flung his arms wide. "Even ones that were big enough to ride! I always dreamed of one day making my way to the Amazon or the African jungles to find a species no one had seen before – could you imagine that, Alice? A jungle of twisted vines and high leafy trees, absolutely full of butterflies! We could even bring in your nutterflies – and maybe some of the other insects too! Rocking-horse flies and snap-dragonflies – though I think I couldn't resist actual dragon-flies," he confessed with a sheepish rub of his neck.

"So long as they don't set the place on fire, I'm game," Alice said, giggling. "You've put a lot of thought into this."

"Oh, I'm just remembering all the places I used to go as a child – oh hey!" Victor pointed at his counterpart. "What about the old wizard's magic tower? Remember that?"

"Not really," the other Victor said, smiling. "I wasn't around until you were about fourteen."

"It was wonderful – a huge tower reaching high into the sky, surrounded by a swirling vortex of multicolored clouds," Victor elaborated, looking between Alice and the other Victor. "All the plants around grew in funny shapes, and he grew bleeding hearts and roses and other bright red flowers in alchemical circles. There was a big library inside, full of books – sort of like Elder Gutknecht's, only on the bottom couple of floors. And then there were rooms for brewing potions, or practicing spells, or studying magical creatures. . .and at the top, the wizard's personal study, looking out across it all." He wrapped his arms around himself. "I had a big purple blanket I liked to pretend were my official robes – I tried to paint stars and moons on it once, but Miss Johnson caught me and made me scrub them off."

"What a shame," Alice said, patting his arm. "I would have let you do it."

"I know you would. If we'd known each other as children, I bet you would have done it before me."

Alice conceded the point with a giggling nod. "Was there anything for music?" she asked. "Only I know how much you love the piano, and you've compared it to a tamed beast before. . . ."

"Not as a child. . .but why couldn't I have a musical land?" Victor asked the room at large. "You could have weeping willows drooping with piano keys, and violin bushes, and daffodils that really honk! And maybe you could even see the music – it flows through the air like the characters in the Mysterious East. Or you could smell it when you go to sniff a flower, or taste it when you eat a piece of fruit. . .oh, and I've even got the perfect name! Orchestralia!"

Alice snorted. "You and your puns! Though I suppose it's better than my 'this person is a hatter, let's call him Hatter' approach to naming things."

"If it makes you feel better, I can't think of a better name for The Magic Tower," Victor told her, grinning. "And if I have a world for music, I should have one for drawing too. The river could turn to ink there, and maybe all the trees and houses and such are paper pop-ups, and the inhabitants 'talk' by writing their words like annotations around their heads. . .ooh, and if I wanted to do painting as well, I could have big lakes of watercolors, with brush reeds, and birds made from quill pens, and. . . ."

He trailed off, noticing both Alice and his other self were staring out the window. "What?" he asked, following their gaze.

And gasped. The town square, in all its underwhelming gray glory, had vanished, along with any other trace of Burtonsville. Instead, tapping at the glass were bright blue branches tipped with orange and yellow leaves, spreading out above a carpet of grass so green it was almost unreal. Blue roses shared the earth with bleeding hearts and skull-capped mushrooms, with bone butterflies clack-clacking their way from blossom to blossom. A calm little stream gurgled its way through the trees near the horizon, while in the distance, a waterfall roared an invitation to float down it into some mysterious valley. Victor pressed a hand to his heart, almost overcome with joy. "Wow. . . ."

"Very impressive," Alice agreed, taking his hand. "I think you just needed a bit of a run-up to get everything started."

#forgotten vows friday #fixing you #fanfic #sneak preview #hopefully the last one before I start officially posting!#just two more chapters to go #but I really wanted to share this bit #since it's all about Victor creating his own Wonderland #his gushing was utterly adorable and I had to run with it #part of the inspiration for the forest is the Forest Kingdom of Nier: Automata #I saw that place and was like 'oh wow this looks awesome'#'Victor would totally like this place'#especially since he gets all excited about learning how to quad-jump and float earlier in the story #such a cutie :D #I really do need to do more with these domains #some sort of story must be written #AFTER I complete this one though #queued

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