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I know chapter 2 of red lips is taking a bit but I SWEAR I'm working on it. I'm just trynna make it all good n ready.

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⋆ 𝐼 𝘦𝘹𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦𝘴,

𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦. 𝜗𝜚

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Angie's ring is sadly never mentioned.

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RIP Lara Parker ” — october 12, 2023

Still can't believe she is actually gone. she was an amazing actress. I loved her in Dark Shadows. She played a perfect role as Angelique Bouchard.

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eva in these photos 🧎

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my favorite type of bra.

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first chapter of red lips has been released on AO3.

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REQS: always open

I am currently taking one shot/short story requests for the following characters:

Angelique Bouchard, Hela Odinsdottir, Julia Hoffman, Larissa Weems, Alcina Dimitrescu, Alma Peregrine, Ellie Bixler, Medusa and Thing (Addams family)

I would love to hear your ideas, so please don't hesitate to comment or pm me if you have a particular idea you would like to see written. I'll be sure to credit you in the description if I make it. Thank you!

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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ࣪⠀ ׅ ⠀⊹ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ 𝓢. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀AO3⠀ ࣭⠀ ׁ

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ANGIE BOUCHARD ── `` HEADCANNONS ﹕

kind of detailed. mainly fluff but some mild nsfw. pet names. angie x f!reader. kissing. flirting. teasing. witchcraft. hurt/comfort. jealousy. stalking. lipstick stains. drinking. gift-giving. forbidden love. ✶ headcannons - I'll be using these in my stories.

Her skin carries the gentle, inviting fragrance of soft vanilla from her body wash and lotions, while her perfume and oils evoke the delicate essence of jasmine and on some days cherry. If you get close enough, you might catch a faint hint of cigarette smoke lingering in the air around her.

When she senses that you have feelings for her, she will go to great lengths to push you away, doing everything in her power to make you dislike her, regardless of the consequences or the hurt it may cause. If you work for her, she might even fire you to create distance. She might go as far as sleeping with someone else, knowing you will witness it, all in an effort to ensure you no longer harbor any affection for her.

When she first takes a liking to you, she becomes intensely curious about every aspect of your life. She might discreetly follow you or have someone else do it for her, gathering details about your preferences and routines. Although she would never admit to this, her interest quickly turns into a deep fascination when she falls for someone. She wants to know your favorite foods, hobbies, colors, and animals—every little detail down to the brand of your clothing and the scent of your perfume. Her aim is to understand who you are and imagine what your life together could be like. For her, close isn't close enough.

Angie uses witchcraft without shame, using it for nearly any task that might be simplified by it. She would use her magic abilities to clear traffic on her ride to work. When faced with paperwork, she might use it to finish everything. In her business dealings, Angie might cast enchantments to attract new employees or secure favorable contracts with clients. She may even use her magic abilities in intimate settings, using it to gain the upper hand in the bedroom. For Angie, magic is a gift and not a curse.

Angie never uses pet names with anyone, reserving them for only the closest relationships. Once she starts using them with you, she will rarely call you by your real name unless absolutely necessary. Her preferred term of endearment is "Sweetheart," but when she's in a foul mood or feeling playful, she'll switch to "Darling." To her, using pet names is an intimate gesture, so much so that she considers it a form of infidelity if used casually with others. She never uses these names on anyone else but you. If someone else calls you "babe," "hun," or "darling," Angie will stare at them with an accusatory stare. Later, she will demand to know why they addressed you that way, insisting that you must be cheating on her. To Angie, there is no other reason for someone to use such terms with you, especially since you are with her.

She tends to move quickly in relationships, especially if you show signs of reciprocating her feelings. On the first date, she will try to become physically intimate, her heels lightly running up your legs in the restaurant teasing you. Soon after, she will likely suggest that you move in together, even if it seems premature. If you hesitate or decline, she might respond with something like, "I can't help the fact that I want you all to myself, sweetheart.”

She flirts with you nonstop, regardless of the setting or the activity. Even during a family dinner, she would place her hand on your thigh and slowly inch forward, her eyes looking at you filled with a familiar fondness. If you ask her to stop, she will look at you innocently and claim that she was only trying to give you a massage and reassure you because you seemed stressed. Whether or not you believe her words doesn't matter to her; she enjoys seeing you get worked up over everything she does.

Her primary love languages are physical touch and gift-giving. When she first develops an interest in you, she will often bring you gifts or arrange for them to be delivered anonymously, just to see the smile on your face. Despite her flirtatious nature, she struggles with expressing her feelings through words. When you have a disagreement or a tense moment, she will often resort to physical touch as a means of apologizing or even conveying her feelings. She might place her hands on yours or find other ways to touch you, using these gestures to communicate what she cannot express verbally.

It would take her a very long time to admit that she loves you due to past rejections. She would only say it after you had expressed your love for her. When you first tell her, her mouth would slightly open, and she would look at you as if you had just told her the one thing she had been waiting to hear her entire life. She would immediately reciprocate, and her affection for you would be intense for the rest of the day. The next morning, she would want to hear you say it again. Those three words have a profound emotional impact on her. Even during an argument, if you say "I love you," she would soften instantly, smile at you, and once again shower you with affection, asking you to repeat those words, again, and again.

Angie has an obvious disregard for public norms. She deliberately leaves her red lipstick marks on you just to prove she could. It would become a routine for you to carry baby wipes at all times. Whenever she catches you wiping them off, she protests and leans closer across the table, kissing you with a playful defiance. When you confront her about the indecency, she would respond with a puzzled expression, questioning who made you feel guilty. She claims she could fuck you in a crowded restaurant and erase everyones memory of it the next day if she desired.

She loves the fact that your family doesn't approve of her; if anything, it makes her want to be with you more. She does want them to know she's the best possible person for you, but the idea of your love for her being forbidden just drives her crazy. She would tease your family, be all over you, showing them she's the best for you, but also pushing them down verbally and showing them they have no say anymore.

Angie is not a frequent drinker, but when she faces hardships, she will drown her feelings in alcohol. When you argue with her or when she feels you might leave, she will drink and wallow in her feelings. She prefers red wines, but she can drink hard liquor without so much as a grimace. She enjoys drinking with you, seeing you slowly let go and relax. She likes witnessing your true emotions and how much you trust her. She keeps bottles of wine in her cabinets for special occasions, or whenever they may be needed.

Angie is definitely more attracted to the masculine side of you. She likes it when you wear sports bras, tank tops, chains, and when you offer to fix something for her. Of course, she loves it when you wear heels, makeup, and dresses, but she also enjoys seeing you when you're more relaxed. She would often tease you and try to unbutton your pants while you were fixing her car.

Angie isn't very sensitive about your relationship. No one really tries to insult either of you due to Angie's power and status in town. However, if anyone attempts to insult you in any way, they would be forced to leave town or they would simply disappear randomly. You often notice a certain glint of hatred in Angie's eyes whenever someone calls you a dyke. Even after reassuring her they didn't mean it negatively, Angie still dislikes that term being used with you. If you strongly objected to her taking action against them, she wouldn't do anything unless they repeated it.

Angie wouldn't want any music playing when you two are being intimate. She enjoys hearing you and all the sounds you make for her. However, if you insisted, she would reluctantly agree but state that you owed her. Deep down, she would be a bit hurt and worried that you were getting tired of her. She would pout for the rest of the day until she got another chance to hear you moan for her. If you asked her to do something for you, she would cross her arms and say, 'I'd rather listen to music.'

When she gets into heated scenarios, her accent tends to slip out. For instance, when you two are in bed together, her French accent becomes more pronounced, and she whispers sweet nothings in French under her breath. Oftentimes, she will teach you French when you two are in bed together. She teaches you proactive phrases and gestures, such as how to ask her to stop, how to beg her to keep going, and how to tell her where and how to touch you.

Angie is unsure about having children. She likes the idea of having a child but is unsure if she would be a good parental figure. She would prefer to have a girl instead of a boy, but regardless, she would love them both equally. In time, she would become a great mother figure.

She takes it seriously when you get sick, whether it's a common cold or something more serious. She will use her witchcraft to make a remedy that could fix it immediately. As long as you are by her side, you wouldn't be sick for long because she makes sure of it.

She likes the idea of growing old with someone she loves but doesn't like the idea of death. She doesn't want to face the reality that one day you will grow old and die. She would constantly bring up the subject of immortality to you whenever she gets the chance. She wants to live with you forever and never wants to lose you.

Angie puts a lot of thought into you. On your dates, she always does what she knows you will love and buys you things you like. If she notices you staring at a piece of candy, she will buy it for you. This goes for anything you stare at, even herself. If you want it, she will give it to you. She will not settle for anything but the best for you.

Her favorite color is red. She likes all things red, but she is not afraid to admit when something is too ugly to be in red or when red looks hideous on something.

She loves roses, but for each rose color and pigment, she has a unique definition. For instance, she would give you red roses to convey her passion and love for you. She would give you white roses as a way to apologize, and so on.

Angie would always be there for you. If she caught you crying, she would not leave you alone until you told her what happened or until she felt good about leaving you alone for a while. She would wrap her arms around you and hold you flush against her body, asking you what happened. Deep down, she would always worry that she was the cause of your tears, but she would be relieved when you corrected her. She would do anything for you. She would always protect you, and that included your feelings.

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ANGIE BOUCHARD ── `` MIDNIGHT SPARKS﹕

fourth of july. cursing. cigarette smoking. kind of detailed. fireworks woke you and angie up. fluff. angelique x fem reader. kissing. overworked. let me know if y'all are into these short ones. ✶ holiday special - fourth of July

You woke with a sudden jolt, your entire body trembling at the deafening boom that shattered the stillness of the night. However, Angie remained perfectly still beside you, her only reaction a slight furrowing of her brows. The noise seemed to be nothing more than a mild irritation to her. You turned to look at the alarm clock behind Angie, its bright red digits glaring 12:01 am. A heavy sigh escaped your lips as you shook off the last remnants of sleep. Just a few hours earlier, you had been certain there wouldn't be any fireworks; they usually started at 10 pm. Yet, to your dismay, they chose to begin right as the calendar flipped to July 4th.

A second thunderous boom ripped through the air, dragging you back from your thoughts. The bed dipped as Angie shifted, letting out an exasperated huff. "What the fuck are they doing? It's midnight!" she exclaimed, her voice a mix of frustration and disbelief despite how often it occurs. Her eyes locked onto yours, and she threw her arms up in an accusatory gesture, as if you were somehow responsible for the commotion outside.

Angie's appearance was a stark contrast of disarray and elegance. Her blonde hair was a wild tangle on one side, frizzy strands cascading over half her face, giving her a disheveled look. Yet the other half of her hair remained impeccably in place, flowing smoothly against her skin, highlighting her natural beauty even in the middle of the night. The disparity was almost poetic, a visual representation of the chaos and tranquility Angie gave in her presence.

Before you could answer, Angie turned and walked out of the bedroom. You propped yourself up on your elbows and swung the covers off, the cold air prickling your skin with goosebumps. Quickly, you got out of bed and followed her, but she wasn't in the living room. Glancing toward the back screen door, you saw a puff of smoke drifting in the air. It was unmistakably Angie. Stepping outside, you found her sitting on the back steps, the faint glow of fireworks illuminating the night sky. You sat down beside her, leaning your arm against hers. "It'll be over soon," you said softly. Angie was always tired, working long hours and coming home late even on holidays. The Fourth of July was just another source of stress for her.

She placed the cigarette back between her lips, her cheeks lightly moving as she let out a puff of smoke. Angie shook her head, her lips curling into a teasing smile as she removed the cigarette. "Don't look at me with those eyes," she said, the cigarette perfectly balanced between her fingers. You realized you had been staring at her lips and quickly shook your head. "What? I wanted the cigarette," you protested, taking it from her and placing it between your own lips, taking a long drag. The fireworks crackled and boomed above, casting fleeting bursts of light across Angie's face. Her tired eyes watched the display with a mixture of resignation and weariness, the shadows under them deepening. She looked different in this light, her usual confident demeanor softened by the gentle, flickering illumination. You could see the strain of her daily work etched in every line and contour of her face.

The night was filled with the scent of smoke and the distant sound of laughter and celebration. Yet, in this small corner of the world, it was just the two of you, sharing a quiet moment amidst the chaos. The cigarette passed back and forth, its glow a small beacon in the dark. You knew the fireworks would soon end, but the weight Angie carried wouldn't disappear with a burst of color in the sky.

You held out the cigarette to Angie, but she lightly shook her head, taking it from you and extinguishing it on the step beside her. She turned back to you, her left hand sweeping into your hair, her right gently placed on the upper part of your neck. Her touch was warm and tender, sending a shiver down your spine. "Happy Fourth of July," she hummed against your lips, closing the distance between you with a soft kiss. Your eyes fluttered shut as her lips met yours, and you felt the world melt away. Her hand pulled you closer, and a light hum escaped her mouth, vibrating through you before she pulled back just slightly. "I love you, sweetheart," she whispered, her breath warm against your skin. Her words were like a balm, soothing and sweet, carrying the weight of unspoken emotions and shared moments.

"I love you too, Angie," you replied, your voice barely more than a murmur. Her smile broadened, and her lips lightly brushed against yours with every movement, a delicate dance of affection. Another boom echoed through the night, and you turned your head to see multiple fireworks exploding simultaneously, their vibrant colors igniting the midnight sky. The bursts of red, blue, and gold painted your figures in an array of shimmering hues, casting fleeting shadows across your faces. You felt Angie's arms wrap around you, pulling you against her, her head resting gently on your shoulder. The warmth of her body against yours was a comfort, a silent assurance that you were in this together. Her breath was a soft, rhythmic presence at your neck, and you could feel the steady beat of her heart against your own.

The fireworks continued to light up the sky, each explosion a fleeting masterpiece, but your focus remained on Angie. Her dark hair cascaded around her face, framing her features in a way that made her look ethereal in the night’s glow. Her eyes, though tired, sparkled with a mixture of love and a hint of sadness, reflecting the colorful display above. The night air was cool, but Angie's presence was all the warmth you needed.

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TIFFANY VALETINE ── `` DARK CONTENT﹕

blood play. knife play. death. NSFW content. kind of detailed. no protection + male reader. I may make this a real fanfic. ITS POSTED COMPLETED ON AO3. ✶ REQUESTED by a friend.

It was around 1 o'clock and you were hiding away the body of a police officer behind a garbage bin in one of Hackensack's various alleyways. Tiffany was in the car cleaning her nails from the cops' blood stashed underneath them. You never understood why she would kill people unnecessarily as this cop had no suspicions about the two of you. You supposed she had gotten nervous and wanted to make sure it was all okay. The cop was originally searching for a missing person. Tiffany did have something to do with it but the cop was on his leave when y'all confessed to just being a couple on their way from California to see their relatives for the holidays as Halloween was only a week away. As the adrenaline wore off, you couldn't help but feel a mix of guilt and fear. Tiffany, on the other hand, seemed strangely unfazed, her eyes gleaming with a sense of twisted satisfaction. It became clear to you that her darkness ran deeper than you had ever imagined. As you reflected on the events that had just unfolded, you couldn't help but question your own judgment and the choices that led you to this point. You realized that your connection with Tiffany was built on a foundation of deceit and violence, and you couldn't help but wonder how far you were willing to go to keep her twisted secrets. As you stood there, contemplating the situation, you realized that the best course of action would be to leave the area immediately and lay low for a while. You needed to ensure that there was no evidence linking you or Tiffany to the crime, and that meant avoiding any further interaction with law enforcement or anyone who might raise suspicion. It was time to disappear, at least for now. " I think we should leave," you said, practically running back to the car. Your back hit the back seat and the door swung shut loudly behind you. "Alright," Tiffany replied, putting her middle finger into her mouth and getting rid of the last of the blood.

The crime wasn't too far away from where you drove. Since you had trouble concentrating on the road ahead of you, you drove only a few miles away. It was impossible to stop picturing the cop's face when Tiffany slit his throat. The amount of blood that pooled out of him and splattered on your shoes and lower pants leg shocked you. The movies never pictured it as being as grotesque as it actually is. You lay your head back on the seat and immediately set it back forward out of fear your neck would be slit just like his. It's not like you didn't trust Tiffany you did as she hasn't laid a hurting hand on you in years. You just disliked how you could feel your neck stretch back. "Oh, come on. You said you were tough," she remarked, her voice tinged with both mockery and challenge. As she spoke, you couldn't help but recall the time you had confessed your feelings for her. Back then, you had confidently claimed that you could handle anything she threw at you. Her words now echoed in your mind, reverberating through every corner of your brain, making it hard to formulate a response. "I can," you finally managed to say, your voice steady but your heart racing. "I just didn't expect it tonight." The reality of the situation was harsh. She had killed before, but never this close to you. This time, you were so near that the spatter from the violent act had reached you, staining your clothes and bringing the grim reality of her world into sharp, undeniable focus. You looked around and noticed that the only person nearby was a drunk, hunched against the wall a few feet down the alleyway where you had parked to hide the car. You wondered if he would be a victim of Tiffany's as well but quickly shoved that thought out of your mind. "Probably can't even hold the knife steady," she teased, a slight jab at her comment making your eyebrows twitch. She had always tried to get you to kill someone: a nurse, a mailman, even one of her escorts. Every time you refused, she got mad, called you a coward, and did it herself, later claiming it was an accident of their own fault. You couldn't deny the adrenaline coursing through your veins now, making you want to get up and kill the poor guy outside the car. The thought made your heart beat faster with anticipation. You snuck a glance in the rearview mirror, only to see the drunk was no longer there in his previous spot. Suddenly, you heard a banging on the car; the drunk was hitting and yelling at you two from outside the car. You couldn't make out what he was saying, but it sounded like he mistook you for someone he knew. You took a moment to fully take in his features. He had a rough patchy beard, his eyes were baggy and he had drool slipping out of his mouth with each word he said. Tiffany looked at you expectantly and held out the small knife she had used to slit the cop's throat earlier. "Kill him," she said, her eyes piercing yours with a seriousness you had never seen before.

FINISHED ON AO3 - SEARCH THE ACC "greensalvation" to see the full fic or click the link I added on this post.

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It's not your fault | fluff

Angelique Bouchard x reader

Word count : 999

Warnings : mentions of miscarriages, mentions of wanting to disappear & neglect kind of. Sensitive content + everything is implied. Not done physically or verbally.

Note : this is a mess, I really want to make small Angie fics so this is the start I got the idea from @hazellovesnuts I'm still working on the full long story but my requests are open I'll do anything really as long as it involves Angie.

You let out a high pitched huff as you slammed the front door shut only for it to swing back open from impact. You stared at the door as if it was the cause of all your problems. Snapping your head away from the front door you go to the kitchen and splay your hands on the counter top, your head falling down with unsheeshed rage. Tears welled up in your eyes and you felt your chest tightening with emotion. You were so angry and frustrated that you wanted to just break down and cry. It has been 4 months since your miscarriage and the heat of everything was just getting to you. Not to mention your day has been a living hell, more than usual that is.

From accidentally spilling embalming fluid on the floor at work, to casually tripping and dropping groceries from the tears swelling in your eyes throughout the day. The stress of life was beginning to get to you. When something bothered you, you didn't tell anyone right away, so you kept everything in until you could no longer control yourself. You felt like you had no choice but to keep your struggles to yourself, but you knew that it was only a matter of time before the pressure became too much. You took a deep breath, your hands and legs quivering as you turned slowly and walked to yours and Angies room. You fell onto the bed bringing your knees up to your chest, your arms tightly hugging yourself into a secure ball of shame.

Hours passed before you heard familiar footsteps in the house. However these sounded urgent. Scared even. Angelique stormed into y'all's bedroom door, her gaze immediately falling on you "sweetheart?" She said only to receive a grumble in response, regardless she was relieved, to be aware you were okay. she dropped her keys and walked over to you in a hurry "are you okay?.. What happened?" she asked, placing her hand on your forehead looking for any signs of illness only to find none. You felt a wave of relief wash over you, knowing that Angelique was there and would take care of you no matter what.

You opened your mouth to explain what had happened, but the words just wouldn't come out. You had no idea where to start. It had been weeks, months even before she had noticed you completely like this. She had been caught up in her own sorrow that she accidentally disregarded how you had felt.

"... I want my baby" you said as a torrent of tears stormed down your face forcing you to hold yourself tighter hoping you would just disappear. Hoping you would melt into the bed and finally be at peace. You felt like you had no control over your emotions and the situation. Even though you could barely breathe, the tears kept flowing. You wanted to be able to get the words out and explain yourself, but it was like your throat had closed up and you couldn't find the words. Angelique then leaned up and walked to the closet bending. She picked up a dusty box of papers from the floor and she didn't say a word. What could she say? She had to work. That's the whole reason she stopped back by the house. To get these papers it was only the front door blaring open that caused her to be alert.

Angelique sighed softly and set the box back down and looked over her shoulder at her despaired lover. She knew she couldn't leave you like this and keep herself from feeling shameful. She took a few steps towards you, her left arm outstretched, grabbing you gently by the shoulder and turning you towards her. She murmured softly to herself as she slid in bed beside you pulling your head into her chest. She smelled like fresh vanilla with hints of cherry complimenting the color of her cherry red lips.

You both stayed like that for what felt like an eternity until Angelique pulled you back for a moment and placed a soft kiss on your forehead. "It's not your fault." She stated her arms wrapping around your waist with a strength you could've sworn didn't belong to her. Her touch was almost gut wrenching but the purpose behind it made your tears subside."Yes it is. If only I would've been more careful…" Angeliques eyes furrowed at this. She placed her finger on your lips, her eyes now looking at you again searching your face for anything remotely positive. "It's not your fault" she repeated her lips roaming just above her finger in front of your mouth, her words being spoken with so much love and care that it almost brought you to tears again. "We have each other … you have me." She said letting her leg fall over your waist, her hands moving farther up your body to your head holding you solemnly against her body.

You felt a wave of emotion crash over you and you hugged her tightly, letting her words wash away your pain. You closed your eyes, savoring the moment of comfort and warmth. You knew that no matter what happened, you always had her. You knew even if you didn't need her she would be there for you. Always. You felt the tears come, and you let them fall. You knew you were safe in her arms, and that together you could face whatever the world throws at you.

It wasn't long before you had fallen asleep, Angelique never moved from your side that night. She laid with you the entire day whispering sweet nothings into your ear. "We can always try again" she states causing a smile to form on your lips as her poor form to uplift the mood was stated. "Nows not the time Angie" You say laughing to yourself as you clasp onto her pantsuit keeping your face sealed against her chest. Sealed from your worries.