#My room walls are purple and my bathroom is orange

[ask-artsy-oncie]

"I can't do this because I rent" before I was born my parents lived in apartments, and would paint the walls wildly garish colors because it made them happy. They'd also paint them back to beige any time the place was inspected or before they had to leave. If you're stubborn enough, you can do anything when you rent.

[roseblog-rog]

I Guess I Do Belong in the Woman’s Room.

It’s always a scary endeavor: going into a public restroom as a trans person. There’s always that fear of being outed or shunned or screamed at or punished or SOMETHING. So many risks, all for pissing. But I digress, I have no time to worry due to how badly I have to go.

I enter the woman’s room to find a group of five girls doing makeup in the long mirror which spans the whole bathroom, lined with sinks and soap dispensers. The floor is white with recently cleaned tiles, the gray stalls packed together on the opposite side. The walls are a soft shade of pink that almost feels…comforting. Inviting.

Though no other people aside from the group appear to be in here, I move quick. I swiftly and quietly do my business and exit the stall to wash my hands, moving to the opposide side away from the group of girls, who are now giggling and applying their different colored lipstick. They’re all really fucking pretty, and I feel a warm blush creep up onto my face. I pray their laughter has nothing to do with me. That hope is short lived, however, as one of them—the one with red lips—speaks in a deep airy voice once I finish washing my hands.

“Hey girl, your fly is still open.”

Shit. Well that’s embarrassing. I nod and quickly fiddle with my zipper. I must’ve forgotten to zip it up after buttoning my pants with how much I was rushing to leave. Hopefully they didn’t notice my—

The one with pink lips speaks now, her voice being much higher and softer. “I’m sorry…but is that a bulge?”

Fuck. Now all five girls are glancing down at the bulge in my jeans. It looks so much more obvious in this new light. My face goes completely red.

“No! No. I uh…uhm…” I struggle to formulate an excuse, voice on the verge of cracking with how high and feminine I’m trying to make it combined with the tears starting to form my eyes. My worst fears were being realized, and the most embarrassing part is my gock begins twitching from all the attention.

Red chuckes and speaks again. “Hey, don’t worry girl. In case you haven’t noticed you’re not the only one packing here.”

The blunt response startles me, but with the invitation to look I now notice that all five of them also have bulges, though theirs are much harder than mine, which makes me shiver from…something.

“We didn’t mean to startle you.” Purple speaks in a rough, bright voice, elbowing Pink, who looks down in shame. “We were just, well,” she glances back down at my crotch and smirks “curious.”

“Yeah, sorry for the scary question. We get how it can be in public restrooms.” Pink looks incredibly guilty.

“Haha…yeah, sorry. I didn’t mean to get so startled.” My voice settles in it’s natural state, which is still fairly feminine, though deep enough to warrant ‘suspicion’. The blush slowly fades from my face, the tears subside and my breath levels. I’m safe.

“Though I have to ask…why were you so afraid? You belong in here just like anyone else.” Blue pipes in with her quiet and monotone voice, raising an eyebrow at me.

I itch to leave, but something about the group is so comforting and intriguing that I endulge their curiosity. “Well…not really. I mean, I’m at a point in my transition where I’m much more feminine……” I trail off.

“But..?” Purple prompts.

“But I’m still so tall and lanky, my voice is deep, my stubble is annoyingly apparent…I guess I don’t feel pretty enough to be in here comfortably.”

The last member of the group, Orange, walks forward towards me at this response, clearly checking me out. I fidget in place as she gets closer. She’s taller than me, just an inch or two, but still noticeable as I slightly tilt my head up to look at her face. She’s beautiful. Her voice is so silky smooth it brings my blush right back onto my face.

“I think you’re pretty.”

I look down at the ground, my blush reaching embarrassing levels of red. I blush way too easily. “Thank you, uh, I think you’re pretty too.” I notice just how much my voice wobbles, whether it be from embarrassment or being so flustered.

Orange lifts her right hand up to my chin, using her pointer finger to gently lift my face back up to meet her gaze. I twitch again, ugh. “I mean it, how could you think you aren’t pretty enough to be here?”

She turns my body to face the mirror, and I really look at myself: my red and freckled face, my long blonde hair, my wide hips, my bulked up arms, my boobs…everything. Orange stands right behind me, softly smiling as she moves her hands down my waist. It feels so fucking good, I’ve always been so sensitive to touch…but…

“W..wait! I barely know you.” I stutter out as I move away from her. My hardening gock betrays my sentiment, but I ignore it.

Orange’s gaze softens. “That’s okay…forgive me for being so forward.” She glances down. “Though it seems like someone wants more.”

My face feels so hot I think I might just die. I can barely even get any words out, just mindless stutters. The only word I manage to speak before my mind completely blanks is “Please.”

Orange’s gaze darkens with a smirk. “Girls! Let’s help her realize just how pretty she is.”

The five of them now crowd around me, moving me so I once again face the mirror. I’m shaking, my now fully erect gock starting to drip as Red lifts my shirt off of me. Pink goes to undo my jean button and zipper while Black pulls them down. Blue undoes my bra while Orange once again begins feeling up my now exposed body. Despite the circumstances it feels so…freeing. So beautiful and—oh FUCK.

Red begins to kiss just above my right breast, leaving a very obvious lipstick mark. The five of them grin so simultaneously it’s almost terrifying. Almost. They all begin feeling me up while kissing me with their multicolored lips. I’m moaning and whimpering so much at this point that one of them exclaims “Looks like someone’s a noisemaker. She’s adorable!” However, my mind is so fuzzy and warm at this point that I can’t even tell who says it.

They’re pressed so closely against my shaking frame that it’s impossible for me to fall to my knees despite my wobbling. I can feel their hot bodies against mine, hear their heavy breathing as we all start to sweat. My skin begins to be covered with red and pink and purple and blue and orange. Little reminders of this wonderful group.

Soon enough one of them pulls my panties down and immediately makes an excited noise at my hard, dripping gock. “Holy shit! You’re gorgeous!” I then feel the now familiar sensation of a mouth being closed around it, a tongue starting to feel around it, and this earns several loud moans. The kisses from the other four girls get rougher and more sensual: sucking and biting and licking all over my quivering frame.

I feel bliss, seeing my naked body being marked and used and sucked by all these women, and I start to feel so beautiful. I notice the clear markings and lip stains…but I also notice my soft skin and nice curves and all the little things I don’t usually stop to look at. I notice how pretty and shiny my gock is, as each girl takes turns sucking on it.

I feel everything. There’s so much stimulus that I start shaking harder and moaning even more. I can barely hold myself up, but one of them is clutching me tightly by the hips to keep me from falling. “I want you to say how pretty you are.” Of course. Who am I to deny her?

“I’m pretty.” I barely get the words out.

“Again. Say it like you mean it.”

I feel myself teetering on the edge of an orgasm, a rare sensation for me with how far my transition is. I’m now completely coated in multicolored lips and bite marks and hickeys and various fluids. It’s…well, it’s pretty.

“I’m pretty!” I shout it this time, staring myself down in the mirror.

“One more time, you’re doing so good.”

“I’m pretty! I’m so fucking pretty!” I lock eyes with myself as I cum into whoever’s mouth is sucking me. I’m breathing so heavily I’m almost afraid for my safety…but these women are here for me. I’m okay.

They help me sit down and crowd closely around me, the scent of our sweat and their makeup becoming much more apparent. It’s all so wonderful and safe and relaxing that my eyes start to shut as they coddle me and play with my hair.

“It’s okay baby, you can rest.”

The last thought running through my mind is how pretty I am before I fade out of consciousness.

~~~

MY FIRST TIME WRITING SMUT WOAG!!! Because this is such a momentous occasion and I am so awesome, @xenasaur @lilithtransrights enjoy my cool lil thing.

[talesofesther]

I guess that's love

Wednesday Addams x Reader

Summary: Wednesday sees herself stuck in the memory of one night; the night you almost died. She feels it's her fault, your blood on her hands says as much.

A/N: This is loosely based on Can't Pretend by Tom Odell and After Hours by The Weeknd which was suggested by the lovely @abelvrla. Also, I think it's valid to say that this story is mostly me having fun with some of my favorite tropes, so idk if this turned out kinda bad or similar to any of my other works; but I do hope you can enjoy it anyway. <3

Word count: 4,5k of feelings.

Masterlist

It's red. All she sees is red.

It stains the white porcelain of the sink before going down the drain.

Blood never bothered Wednesday, one could say she enjoyed the sight of it.

Now, she's almost rubbing her hands raw. It's a hurried motion, she brushes the soap over her palm with urgency, clawing at her own skin under the running water; yet it's still there.

She feels a little nauseated. Maybe it's because her breathing is all over the place. Sometimes too fast; sometimes not fast enough, clogged up in her throat.

She washes. And washes. And… keeps washing. The skin of her hands becomes reddish. The blood — your blood — eventually, finally fades.

But does it really? Wednesday feels the stain to be permanent.

Looking down at her hands — her vision a little blurry but she doesn't think about that — she catches herself shaking. Her chest is impossibly tight, it hurts to feel the beating of her own heart.

How'd you do it? How'd you get her to dread your death?

She's disoriented when she exits the bathroom, not registering immediately where she is. The white walls of the hospital hurt her eyes.

It's been such a long night.

Is it still night?

The tie around Wednesday's neck seems to be choking her. She reaches her hands up to loosen it, but the feeling doesn't go away. She discards the garment altogether.

That's when she notices the blood stains on the cuffs of her white shirt. She curses under her breath. She wants to throw up. Or change out of these ruined clothes, but it feels like a waste of time.

"…nesday? Wednesday!"

She looks up upon hearing the calls of her name, only to see Principal Weems regarding her with evident worry. She's a little paler than usual, the night definitely hasn't been kind to her either.

There are only a few doctors walking around, some of them give Wednesday a strange look as they pass her by. A pungent smell of disinfectant hangs in the air. The sky outside the window bleeds in soft shades of dark purple and orange — the sun is already rising to a new day.

"You need to get checked out too, follow me." Weems reaches out to Wednesday's shoulder, trying to guide her to an empty room.

Wednesday ignores it, shrugging off the hand on her shoulder. "Where is she?"

Weems avoids her eyes then, sighing exasperatedly because she knows arguing will lead her nowhere; "she's being treated, we'll be able to see her soon."

"I want to see her now," Wednesday states, before walking past Larissa without even knowing which door she should go to.

"She's in surgery, miss Addams," Weems insists, finality in her tone. "We'll only make things worse going there now."

It's funny, how you've always told Wednesday she should put herself out there more, not be afraid to feel or let people close. Yet now you only prove her right in her reasoning that emotions only exist to torture people. Not in a good way.

But she did it anyway, didn't she?

She allowed herself to feel things.

Wednesday is frozen to the pristine tiles, her nails almost piercing her skin as she clenches her fists.

"I'm worried too, but all we can do now is wait," Weems softens once she notices the shaking of Wednesday's body. She takes a careful step closer to the girl, "if you don't want to see a doctor come back to the school with me, take a shower, put some clean clothes on. I'll drive you back when we're allowed to see her."

—

The warm water soothed Wednesday's muscles, it washed away the dried blood from her hair and the dirt clinging to her skin. It was relieving.

She's now standing in front of the bathroom mirror and the reflection staring back at her is not one she easily recognizes. Her skin looks paler than usual — if that's even possible — there are dark circles around her eyes and even she has to admit she looks exhausted.

Wednesday reaches a hand to touch her abdomen, nimble fingers tracing the spot that should be ripped open but isn't. Not even a scar remains; no telltales that she had been stabbed just a few hours ago.

She shivers at the thought. Death's cold embrace is a little more taunting when seen up close.

For a fleeting second, Wednesday catches herself planning to go to your room — as she usually did most nights before she pushed you away. She would sit beside you on your bed, her shoulder would brush yours and she'd comment about how you could even sleep in a bed this small, yet she wouldn't pull away. She'd talk with you about how good it felt to drive a knife into the old pilgrim's heart. Maybe she'd even tell you she had been scared. Maybe you'd try to hold her hand and she'd let you, gripping you tighter than she should.

Your comfort was Wednesday's most prized secret. You were her favorite broken rule.

The salty taste of a tear on her lips brings Wednesday back to reality. The reality where she doesn't have a single scar on her body and you're in a hospital bed fighting to stay alive.

She dries her cheeks harshly, turning around to put on her sweater and dark pants.

—

It's 6 PM when Principal Weems brings her back to the hospital and Wednesday is finally allowed into your room.

There's a stillness to it that she hates. You are too still. Several tubes are attached to your body as you lay on the hospital bed, there are bandages around your torso, some of them faintly tainted red. The machine that tracks your heartbeat is beeping in a lazy rhythm.

Wednesday doesn't dare breathe as she walks closer, stopping right beside you so she can cast over each scrape on your skin.

There was too much blood loss, Weems had told her moments ago. Wednesday knew that, she was the one who kept what was left of your blood inside your body until the ridiculously slow help finally arrived.

Weems also told her the bullet was short of doing major damage, and that despite now being weak, you were lucky and should wake up within a few days.

It does absolutely nothing to set Wednesday's heart at ease.

You're too still.

She can barely see your chest moving with the soft breathing. Your features are so serene, so emotionless. She could say you're dead if she didn't know any better.

Wednesday doesn't move for several moments, it's almost as if she's afraid to. She holds herself stiff at your side, glaring at you as if you'd wake up only to hear her scolding.

She hates that this is the first time she's been this close to you, in what? Two or three weeks?

It feels unfair, unfitting. Like it's all wrong.

But she can't complain. It's her fault.

A vain attempt at keeping you safe. Maybe it only made things worse;

—

"You know, as far as dates go, this is pretty creative," you told her, dodging fallen logs and rocks as you walked amongst the woods.

Wednesday turned back to look at you with an unreadable expression, "no one said this was a date."

"What would you call it then?"

"Investigating."

You groaned, falling into step beside Wednesday. Just so you could see the heavenly way the moonlight shaped her features. There was fog in the cold air, trees nothing but dark silhouettes around you; it suited her. "You're no fun."

"Flattery will get you nowhere," Wednesday felt your hand brushing hers. She hated how it made her focus waver. "Besides, you're the one who agreed to accompany me."

"Of course I did," you explained easily, "you asked me to."

Wednesday gulped, things felt more intimate than they should when the only witnesses around you are trees.

"Why was that?" You dared take hold of her hand then, your cold fingertips closing around her own. She stopped abruptly, and you observed the way her shoulders tensed. "You say you don't need anyone, yet here I am."

Wednesday's breath turned shallow, she didn't feel like looking at you. Because you were right, it was a break in her pattern; her rules.

How'd you do it? How'd you get her to break her rules?

You came to stand before her, your other hand taking hold of her free one so you could pull her closer. And she let you. Another step and any left space between you will vanish.

"Why won't you tell me?" You asked for what felt like the millionth time, but you didn't really hope for an answer.

You're familiar with her. She allows you close; you hold her hand, you touch her cheek, you braid her hair. Yet she never tells you why she allows you to do it.

Wednesday kept her eyes focused somewhere on your lips, counting the specks of color there, still as a corpse.

She saw the ghost of a smile that came to your lips before you leaned closer. And alarms were blaring inside her head, her lungs aching because of how she refused to breathe; yet she didn't move away.

You kissed her softly, gently. Your lips mapped hers in a way that felt like it always should've been.

And she melted against you, her hands clutching yous.

But as all things do, as Goody warned her time and time again; it didn't last. Shockwaves cursed through Wednesday's body and she was taken to another reality.

A reality where you were screaming her name in one second, and the next you were laying on the dirty ground, a pool of blood forming under you.

Wednesday jumped away from you the second she came back to herself, her eyes wide and breathing frantically as she strived to not pass out from what she'd just witnessed in her mind.

You were speaking, trying to reach out for her again as you asked what was wrong.

Wednesday felt her eyes sting, all she could see was your blood on her hands.

—

Her vision from that night came back in the form of nightmares for many nights after. Getting Wednesday to start dreading sleep.

She remembers warning you to never come near her again just before she sprinted away, leaving you alone in the woods with no further explanation. She avoided you, accepting the fact you might hate her, but it was okay because you'd be doing it alive.

All in vain, because her vision became a reality anyway.

"How could you be so stupid?" Wednesday tells you, but only the hospital walls hear it. "Jumping in front of me like that, it was ridiculous. Don't you see it? That's why you should've stayed away."

It's useless, you won't wake up to hear her complaints.

Wednesday exhales sharply and turns away from you, "it shouldn't have happened, I tried to-" There's a lump in her throat, it tangles her words, "but you're so stubborn… If you die before me, I'll kill you, I will-"

I don't know what I'll do. Wednesday thinks to herself. She sits on the chair that's beside your bed, watching through the window as the sun hides behind Jericho's mountains.

"You're missing your stupid sunset," Wednesday finds herself whispering. A last attempt at getting you to open your eyes, because for some reason, you liked to see the ending of sunny days.

Nothing happens. You remain still. The beeping tracking your heart rate is still slow. The room remains too quiet.

Wednesday leans back on her chair, she stays motionless for several minutes; until her hand eventually finds you.

Wednesday wraps her fingers around the pulse point on your wrist, not trusting the machine to tell her you're not dead yet.

She holds tightly onto you. There's no one around to witness it.

—

You didn't wake up for four days. And every day, without failure, Wednesday came to see you. She'd sit beside your bed and wait, sometimes silent, sometimes speaking as if you'd talk back to her.

It was her own way of keeping herself calm, busy.

Though the sleepless nights were starting to take a toll on her; sour mood and thinner patience being her new normal, along with the dark circles around her eyes.

Every time she closes her eyes, she's back there — warm blood on her hands and your life slipping from her grasp — so she refuses to do it.

Enid has seen her roommate nap hunched over her desk too many times to not get worried, but with being shut out every time she asked what she could do to help, she eventually stopped.

Wednesday could hate you for messing up her life.

She doesn't.

—

The day you woke up, Wednesday was nowhere to be seen.

All of your friends came to see you, overwhelming you with love and tales about how each of them missed a part of you in their lives.

You felt sore all over, as if you'd been hit by a truck — getting shot then staying unconscious in bed for days will do that to someone, you figured.

Enid was the one who stayed to accompany you back to school when you were discharged from the hospital, along with Principal Weems, of course.

"It feels like I'm learning to walk all over again," you groaned, one hand coming up to clutch at your abdomen as you got to your feet.

"Take it slow, we've got time," Enid kindly held a hand out for you, which you promptly took.

There are a million questions swimming in your mind, losing these many days from your life feels strange. You halted but the world didn't.

You asked the one that you first thought of when you woke up; "Enid," you stop walking so you can look into her eyes, "how is Wednesday? Did she got hurt?"

A complicated array of emotions pass through Enid's features, too fast for you to put your finger on any of them. She looks at you with something akin to sympathy; "she's… fine." Enid chews on her bottom lip, pondering whether she should tell you or not. Naturally, she can't hold back, "she hasn't left your bedside once."

You must have looked rather surprised, because Enid keeps going; "it's true, there wasn't a day that she didn't come to see you."

You don't know how you should feel. You think it's unhealthy for your heart to be beating as fast as it is right now after what you've just been through, but you can't get it to slow down, not when such a bomb is dropped on you.

Almost a month ago, Wednesday told you to never come near her again. Today, Enid tells you she's been by your side this whole time.

"Why?" You ask.

Enid doesn't know the answer.

—

It feels like a fever dream. Your bullet wound, the hospital visits, the remains of the fight. Everything. It feels like it didn't happen.

Because when you got back to Nevermore, everything was back to how it was. The damage to the school was repaired, classes were steadily going back to being routine, and Wednesday hasn't looked in your mere direction once — she, being the epitome of healthy coping mechanisms and dealing with feelings, avoids you like the plague.

You asked Enid to tell Wednesday that your door was open if she ever wished to talk.

Several days have gone by already and she hasn't taken you up on your offer.

You walk out of the cafeteria with a heavy heart and twirling an apple in your hand. You miss her. You hate how your days still feel hollow without Wednesday's presence on them, it's weird because she's not the type of person who usually makes her presence known; but you miss the weight of her shoulder resting against yours, the familiar comfortable silence you'd share when only enjoying each other's existence while reading.

It's a grey day outside. You see her before you see anything else when you walk into the quad. She has her back to you, black braids haphazardly done falling over her shoulders as she sits with Enid on one of the tables.

The werewolf notices you and waves you over, an encouraging smile on her lips. You give her a look that shows your uncertainty, but she insists.

You take a deep breath and follow the stone path that leads to her table. There's a limp on your steps still, telltales of the fight; sometimes you feel the eyes of your peers lingering on you. You wonder what they're thinking about, what they see when they look at you. A brave hero or a stupid kid?

What do they see when they look at her? A lonely, unfortunate soul or the savior of the school?

You sit down beside Enid, consequently in front of Wednesday, your hands resting in your lap as your knee goes up and down anxiously.

"Hey, how are you feeling?" Enid greets you happily, as if there isn't a tension thick enough to cut through in the air.

The question almost goes over your head. You're focusing on the Addams girl in front of you, on the way her knuckles suddenly go white as she grips the lunch tray like her life depends on it.

"I'm alright," you answer, eyes fixed on Wednesday — she holds you in a trance.

"I've been meaning to ask if you have the notes from our last class?" Enid continues, in a kind effort to make things less complicated.

"I uh-" you start, but cut yourself off when Wednesday hastily gets up from her seat, not sparing you a glance as she turns around and walks away.

You watch her retreating figure, the ends of her skirt bouncing with her steps. With a groan, you begrudgingly take a bite from your apple, "there's no figuring her out, I'm done," you mumble over your mouthful.

Though you're not sure if you truly mean it.

"Don't say that," Enid pouts, keeping her eyes on Wednesday until she disappears through the doors that lead inside the school.

"She made it explicitly clear she wants nothing to do with me, Enid," you shrug, a bittersweet smile tugging at your lips, "I think it's my fault anyway, so… I won't bother her anymore."

Enid turns, straddling the bench she's sitting on so she can fully face you; "what do you mean?"

You breathe in deeply, feeling the familiar flutter in your stomach just thinking about it. "A few weeks before all that shit happened, we shared a- a moment."

Enid instantly smiles, her eyes twinkling with excitement, "you kissed?"

You chuckle timidly, smiling along with the memory, "yeah," but your gaze dropped to your hands right after. "I think it was a mistake."

"I doubt it," Enid tells you confidently then, as if she's in on a secret you're not.

You raise an eyebrow at her.

Enid glances between you and the door that Wednesday had disappeared into, tasting the words on her tongue before she spills them over for you. She breathes in, and relents; "after you passed out…" she gulps, dreadful memory still fresh, "right after you got shot, from the blood loss. Wednesday, she- I never saw her so desperate."

Only from the emotions swimming in Enid's eyes, you could tell she was being honest. You couldn't help the tightness in your chest upon imagining Wednesday going through that.

"It was almost as if she knew you wouldn't make it, that you wouldn't survive," Enid keeps going, "or at least that's what she believed in."

Clarity shoots through you like a bullet as your eyes widened with the words. Ironic much, but that was the feeling.

Because there was a possibility, that Wednesday saw your misfortune before it even happened. Right when you kissed her, no less.

And if that was the case, you couldn't imagine the torment she's been under ever since.

—

The night is calm, you can see clouds shaping the moon as you walk the path outside that leads to Ophelia Hall. It's a little late, just past curfew but you prefer it that way — fewer people around, the hallways will be empty.

It's a struggle for you to walk up the stairs, you have to stop once to catch your breath and allow the nagging pain that shoots up your leg to subside. Details. Tonight feels important, because you're going to see her; you'll make sure of it, even if she insists otherwise.

You stop in front of the dark wooden door. If you strain your ears, you can hear the faint noise of her typewriter. Enid isn't there, you know she's at Yoko's room tonight — her idea, not yours. Privacy is important, she told you, right after all but commanding you to do what you're doing.

With a deep breath in and feeling more nervous than you thought you would, you raise your fist, and knock.

The typing noise stops, you hear her chair scratching the floor. You couldn't breathe even if you tried.

The door pulls open and your heart melts a little at the sight; Wednesday stands in front of you with a hoodie and sweatpants on, and her hair free of braids, clearly not expecting anyone to show up at this hour.

You're snapped out of your trance when you register the door closing again. You quickly hold it open with your hand; "hear me out, please."

"No," Wednesday huffs, "I told you to stay away."

"Yeah, and not much else," you push through, squeezing your way inside her room and closing the door behind you. Wednesday takes a big step back as if you'd burn her. It hurts. "Could've given me a reason."

With a deep breath in, Wednesday sets her jaw tight, "I don't owe you anything."

You avoid her eyes then, "maybe not, but I thought we had-"

"We didn't," Wednesday tells you, the shake of her voice makes you look up, and you think you see her eyes glistening, "we don't."

You nod slowly, and despite the bleeding of your heart, you speak softly; "did you see it?" You chew on the inside of your cheek, fumbling with your hands so they don't tremble, "that night, you had a vision didn't you? About what happened to me?"

There's a sudden stillness to the room that feels awfully familiar to Wednesday. She hates the way she can't seem to control her breathing pattern, she hates that the image of you in front of her is becoming blurry.

"Is that why you've been avoiding me? Because I got hurt?"

Your words urge Wednesday's mind to travel back to that night. She closes her eyes tightly, causing a tear to roll down her cheek and part of her wants to kick you out of the room for making that happen.

"You're a liability," she tells you the first thing her mind conjures up.

You chuckle humourlessly, "ouch, considering I saved your life that's-"

"Exactly the problem." Wednesday interrupts urgently, "are you stupid? If you insist on staying close to me you'll only hurt yourself." Her voice breaks at the end of the sentence, as if it caused her physical pain to speak.

You've never heard her this vulnerable, this scared. Your heart bleeds but for a different reason; for the affection you hold for her, for not being able to protect her from what happened. You take a step further towards her and breathe a sigh of relief when she doesn't take one away from you. "And what if staying away hurts me just as much? What then?"

It's quiet. Wednesday doesn't make a single sound. All you see are her cheeks slowly being stained with tear tracks as they roll all the way down to her chin and drip to the floor, her eyebrows scrunching in hurt. But she's so quiet.

You take one more step. "Tell me why."

A beat of silence, and then; "you made me… care about you and then you go and almost die." Wednesday chokes out angrily.

You smile sadly, finally hearing the words you've been chasing; though you'd prefer them in better circumstances, "caring about people can be… scary."

You don't think she registered that you were so close. Wednesday flinches when your hand touches hers, it's a ghost of a touch, barely there, yet it feels almost like an embrace.

"But I promise you, I'm not going anywhere," you say quietly, tears pooling at the bottom lid of your eyes as you carefully hold her hand properly.

Wednesday is frozen in place, it feels like someone reached past her ribs and is squeezing the organ that pumps her blood. She hates that she must look like a mess, yet this is the first time in weeks that she feels she can actually breathe. Part of her has been stuck on that night — hands stained with your blood as the paramedics take you away from her — until now.

Her fingers tentatively close around yours, her lips part and she struggles a little to get the words out, "it's not a promise you can keep."

"I can try," you whisper. You see it clearly in her eyes; the guilt she's been carrying. "What happened that night, it wasn't your fault, you have to know that, Wednesday."

"It was because of me," she reasons just as quietly, "and almost took you from me."

Goosebumps raise on your skin at her words. Your thumb gently traces her hand. It's private, it's delicate, it's a moment that belongs to you two only. "It'll take more than a bullet for you to get rid of me," you tease with a tearful grin.

Slowly, you bring her hand up so it rests over your chest; her palm flush with your skin as your heart beats rhythmically right underneath it. "I'm right here," you breathe.

It's all it takes for her to, finally, surrender. Wednesday stumbles forward, and you're there to catch her. Her head rests on your shoulder and her hands clutch at the fabric of your shirt to the point of ripping. You encircle your own arms around her waist, pressing her tightly to you.

Wednesday is still mostly quiet, the only thing you can hear if you focus hard enough is the occasional hitch of her breath. But you feel the way her tears soak your shirt, the way her body trembles as she gives her all to contain her sobs.

"There was… so much blood," is all she tells you, words muffled against your skin.

"I know," you slide one of your hands up to her head, entangling your fingers through her hair, "I'm so sorry it had to be you." You plant several kisses on her temple and on her hair, each one is a different promise.

I'm here.

I won't leave.

My blood will never be in your hands again.

You think she understands, because you feel her own lips brushing the skin of your shoulder; cold, damp with tears. Tender.

I love you.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keep me motivated to continue posting here, so I'd appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment if you want. <3

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[aggieharkness]

Hello! Baking (or rather cutting out) Christmas cookies was a bit like a cold, tense hell with Christmas music playing in the background.

So I'd like to request reader baking Christmas cookies (or just normal cookies) with Lilia. Put as much fluffy, funny, feel-good feelings as you can in there, please. I'd really appreciate it.

Happy holidays!

The world is perfect when I'm with you

Pairing: Lilia Calderu x reader

Summary: It's Christmas Eve and you and Lilia share a few quiet moments at home baking cookies and simply enjoying the time to be with each other.

Warnings: romance, pure fluff, dancing, baking cookies.

Authors note: Oh my God, I love the idea. You don't know just how happy it made me to read this, like I was bouncing on my bed. I hope you like it and that it brings you happiness and comfort. If there is anything at all that you don't like, tell me and I'll change it, or if you want more, I'm here. Thanks for the request. btw.

This is a Christmas gift for you!! Happy Holidays!

The world is perfect when I'm with you

The house was filled with music. Christmas carol after Christmas carol played through the Bluetooth speaker you had bought a few months ago, echoing against the walls of Lilia’s tiny living area. She wasn’t one for festivities such as Halloween or Easter, but God, she adored Christmas. The first year you had shared the holidays with her it had surprised you just how invested she was, putting up an old beat-up tree, fairy lights everywhere, even around the bedposts, but you never complained. Her big brown doe eyes had shone with such joy and happiness that you just couldn’t bring yourself to burst her bubble in any way. The house had looked beautiful once she had finished, a small nativity scene in a corner of the room, a remnant of her past life in Sicily. This year wasn’t any different, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. The first of December hit the calendar, and she was like Sonic the Hedgehog pulling out boxes of lights and ornaments, leaving the tree to you, a brand new one covered in fake snow that you had gifted her a couple of years ago. She loved knowing that you were helping and making sure the house was just like she wanted it to look, little angels and random glass balls hanging from the branches, golden tinsel wrapped around it along with a string of lights. It looked beautiful next to the TV. For three weeks you helped her set up the house until you were finally able to take your vacation days, leaving your job until the sixth of January.

Morning had come, bursting through the windows in gentle warm rays of sunlight that bathed over Lilia’s form as she slept, those lovely peppery curls shinning under the orange beams, her body cuddled against yours. Every morning since you both had closed up the shop for the holidays had been exactly the same sweet routine; you waking up first to meet the dawn while she slept for a bit longer, basking in the way your hands followed the shape of her soft ringlets, and your tender kisses lulled her away from the land of dreams. It was simply the best way to begin the day. You both had stayed in bed talking about nothing and everything cuddled against each other until the sun was well high up in the sky, the pinks and purple hues that had painted the world above now a clear blue cyan while the world was buried underneath a crisp layer of snow that had fallen through the night. You had not noticed, wrapped around Lilia, lost in her kisses. She got up first, her hair falling from the bun she had had when you had taken her to bed, her ivory gown letting you catch a glimpse of her otherworld body as she made her way to the bathroom, the light hitting her just at the right angle making her nightdress completely see through. She looked bloody fantastic for being over a hundred and fifty years. The rest of the routine followed like clockwork, coffees and scrambled eggs included, making way for the moment you were both in right now.

Lilia’s body swayed from side to side to Michael Bublé, a Christmas classic for her, her voice not only harmonising perfectly, but overtaking and overpowering the music so easily and effortlessly that you had to stop pulling bowls out of cupboards simply to watch her. Over the kitchen counter she was beating three eggs along with melted butter and sugar, ingredients spread everywhere because when she had got up, right before she had left for the bathroom, she had bent over your body, your eyes drifting to her cleavage until her eyes had claimed your attention, telling you that you were making cookies today. Had you been Agatha or maybe even Jen you would have complained telling her that it was boring, but you were you and the prospect of baking with Lilia was like a perfect Christmas gift.

-Lils, how much flour do we need? – your eyes lifted from the big packet of flour that you had just left on the table, her usual red and blue robe flowing when she moved to stand beside you, a yellow apron with the words “Look at these buns!” protecting her clothes.

-280 grams baby, or one full cup. It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas.

-Everywhere you go. Thanks, hon.  

-Take a look at the five and ten.

-It's glistening once again.

-With candy canes and silver lanes that glow.

It was wonderful to sing with her even if your voice could never compare; she did not care. Anything that she did with you was simply perfect. Her hands left the bowl of wet ingredients on the table, holding onto yours before you could grab the sifter. She pulled you away from the table, moving your arms from side to side rather dumbly, twirling you on the spot before your chest was pressed against hers. The music was forgotten in the background, drowned by both yours and Lilia’s laughter as your bodies bent exaggeratedly from right to left. Christmas suited her, it was as if this holiday had been made for her, the lights that she had placed all around the room blinking on and off within a pattern, the bright colours mixing with the warm light bursting through the windows. Lilia twirled the both of you around the kitchen table until the song ended, “Feliz Navidad” now playing instead. Her lips landed briefly over yours, pecking you sweetly before she put you back to work with the dry ingredients.

-Don’t forget the baking soda. Last time you did, the cookies became a rock-hard mass.

-Hey! How was I supposed to know that the baking soda wasn’t in the baking soda bottle but in the saffron one? You are the one who loves to recycle.

-Why would I want to throw away a perfectly usable jar? Besides it’s not my fault you forget your glasses in the bathroom all the time.

-Oh yeah? – you grabbed the top of her apron and pushed her against you. – Where are yours now babe?

-You little…

-Ah! No cursing, you don’t want the dough to get upset and not rise, do you?

-I don’t know why you listen to Rio, that it’s obviously a myth.

-Do you want to risk it? – she shook her head, her pout transforming into a bright smile before she kissed you once again, humming happily against your lips.

There were still a few deep tones of the black coffee she had had for breakfast on her lips that your tongue picked up and savoured before turning back to your bowl. Sifting the flour so there would be no lumps you followed the powder with your eyes carefully, making sure every single drop was inside the bowl this time. Over a week ago you had been supposed to bake an apple pie for Sharon’s book club but there had been a few minor hiccups, one of them being you sifting the flour all over the table because you had been looking at Lilia while she talked about a client that had come in requesting the lottery number. When she turned around, she saw you covered in the white powder, bursting into unladylike snorts of laughter that had her entire face turning red, needing to sit for a moment to fill her lungs and calm herself down. Through the corner of her eye she watched you fill the bowl and congratulated you on not spilling it, a kiss on your temple, her hands busy slicing a couple of chocolate bars. She was teasing a bit, but every praise was always genuine when they came from her, a bubble of happiness wrapping around your heart. A pinch of salt and the baking soda and the dry ingredients were ready for the rest of the mix, Lilia wiping her hands on a tea towel before beginning to pour the eggs, sugar and melted butter mix. Instead of using a whisk you had grabbed a spatula from the sink, washing it before beginning to gently fold the batter until it was smooth but thick.

-Can you turn the oven on? I’m almost done with the chocolate.

-Can’t we just bake them with, you know… a flick of our wrist?

-I swear, Halloween Town has made so much damage. Being able to do something doesn’t mean we should, and you have never seen me turn chicken thighs back into a chicken, have you?

-No, but can we?

You knelt on the floor removing trays and plastic Tupperwares so they wouldn’t melt, turning knobs until the light came on and the fan began to work. You were thankful for all those squat trainings you did as you lifted the ceramic trays you had removed from inside the oven and placed them over the bed covers noticing that Lilia had not answer the question. When you turned around she was biting into a perfectly backed chocolate chip cookie, an eyebrow raised and a smirk on her lips.

-Why didn’t you tell me we actually could Lilia?!

-Because half of the fun is letting the smell of fresh baked cookies fill the house.

She stretched her hand, the half-eaten cookie waiting for you. You rushed back to her and took one big bite, moaning at the taste of the chocolate and vanilla essence, Lilia popping the rest in her mouth, pecking your lips after a moment. Even though she could clearly bake at the snap of her fingers she still moved to put parchment over a metal tray, grabbing a scoop from a drawer. She had already mixed the chocolate into the batter, the dough cold to the touch when you went to pick up some with your finger. So, she could chill it in a second instead of putting it in the fridge, but she did not want to bake them with her magic? A waste of time in your opinion, but then again, she might be right, as usual. The house did smell delicious for days after baking. Lilia had placed a bottle of olive oil on the table so you could lather your hands in it, the first scoop of batter landing in your palms so you could round them before placing them on the parchment paper, over two inches in between each cookie so they could rise and expand in the over without ending up as one giant monstrous thing. It had happened before. The first batch of eight cookies was done in just a few minutes, but there was still a bit of batter left, not that Lilia hadn’t thought of a solution already, another tray waiting for what was left. Just as you finished rounding the last one the oven begun to beep, and Lilia bent to put the trays inside, setting a timer for around fifteen minutes.

-Now for the sugar cookies. I’ll get the ingredients ready while you clean up the table, okay baby?

-Sure, just let me move this flour bag to the counter first.

Innocently you picked up the heavy bag, waddling slightly towards where Lilia had cleared a spot for it on the counter, feeling it slipping a bit off your hands, your steps faster so it wouldn’t end up on the floor. In slow motion you let it plop on the counter, just in time, your fingers barely holding onto it, but the motion had caused a white cloud of flour to come out of the bag right towards Lilia’s spot. Your hands shot to cover your mouth, eyes wide, when you turned to look at her, fighting the laughter that wanted to erupt out of your mouth. Lilia’s beautiful face with her rosy cheeks, big characteristic nose and plump lips was utterly covered in a thick layer of white. She blinked a few times, flour falling off her eyelashes giving her an even more comical look with her chocolate doe eyes staring at you through the white mask. Some of it had made its way to her hair, mixing perfectly with her curls. She opened her mouth to speak but she coughed instead, a small cloud of flour puffing in front of her right before sneezing, part of the powder falling onto the top of her dress and over her yellow apron. There was silence for a moment, not even YouTube Music was playing as she stared at you, hands on her hips. An instant later “Let it snow! Let it Snow! Let it Snow!” was filling up the room with its jolly tune, your laughter impossible to keep quiet.

You roared loudly, a hand still trying to cover your mouth while the other was holding onto your stomach, eyes moving from her face down to the floor. Lilia was staring dumbfounded at you, an offended look on her face as you laughed. Her hand shot to grab your arm pulling you towards her, eyes watering when you rose up to gaze at her. She stopped your laughter quickly, her hand throwing a handful of flour to your face, making you blink away the flour surprised at her action. Staring at each other there was no sound coming from either of you before Lilia chuckled, you following until you were both laughing, your hand grabbing more flour and throwing it in her direction, Lilia dodging it just in time. When you saw that she was putting her hand in the bag you rushed away from her giggling excitedly, feeling her behind you as you rounded the table, her flour missing you by an inch. She was now actively chasing you all throughout the house, your body sliding through the curtains and into the store. You were both leaving a trail of flour on the floor, but neither of you cared.

-I’ll get you for this!

-I’m sorry! I didn’t… - you could hardly breath from how much you were laughing, screaming in delight whenever she got close enough to grab you but never actually doing it. - I didn’t mean it!

-Come here!

You rushed to the door, pulling the glass gates open and stepping into the empty street. Sure, you were not wearing clothes appropriate for snow, your feet cozy inside your slippers, legs dressed in a pair of black leggings, but you hadn’t thought of that. Moving over two feet away from the house, Lilia following you out into the street, you took one step until you felt her hands grabbing onto your waist, pulling you against her. You yelped gleefully while laughing, feeling her arms snake around you, the perfect crispy snow reaching your mid-calf, the air cold, a contrast against Lilia’s delicious warm body.

-Got you. – she whispered in your ear, her breaths rapid and hot against the skin of your neck. You smiled while resting your head in the crook of her neck, very little flour left on your faces now.

-So you did.

-If it was all a ploy so we could come out and play in the snow you know you could have just told me.

-Hmmm, not a bad idea, but it was an accident.

-I know, baby. I’m not mad, but you are cleaning up when we are done baking.

Your mouth was open in shock, a retort forming in your tongue as you turned your face to look at her, but it never made it out of your mouth, her lips on yours kissing you tenderly, her soft ringlets caressing your cheeks. The chocolate cookie had left a wonderful sweet taste on her lips, or perhaps it was the bite you had had, either way, it seemed to fit her perfectly. You both stood over the snow for a few minutes observing the usual boring street covered in glistening white all over, on the roof tops, over the signposts. It was beautiful as long as you had Lilia behind you pecking your cheek. She turned you around after a while, holding onto your hands, pulling your frame back inside the cozy home. The oven had just begun to beep when you crossed the curtain to the back, Lilia rushing to them so they wouldn’t burn letting go of you. She was beautiful, spots of flour still clinging to her skin, like on her forehead or the tip of her nose, but they didn’t seem to bother her as she placed one tray on the stove and the other on the counter over a plate so it wouldn’t leave a burn mark on the old wood. You could spend every minute of your life watching her do anything.

They smelled absolutely delicious, the aroma spreading through the room to every corner, gently sliding into the shop. Over the bed covers you had left a rack which she picked up and left on the counter, you watching from your spot against the back wall as Lilia worked flawlessly, transferring the cookies along with the parchment paper to let them cool down. There was no room for the hot trays now, but that was no issue. Lilia turned, locking her eyes with you and then winked, lazy tendrils of yellow magic wrapping themselves around the trays and lifting them in the air, floating with gentle swaying motions over your heads. Everything related to Lilia’s magic was always so very mystical, visions, readings, the usual divination magic that she was used to, so it was wonderful to see the more practical, fun side of it, it meant she was relaxed and happy. She moved her hand beckoning you to join her, pulling out a pair of clean bowls after she had left the dirty ones in the sink.

-Why don’t you start with the icing?

-What happened with cleaning up the table?

-Flour on my face happened, doll. But don’t worry, there’s not much on the table now, I’ll just move those cups to the side if I need to.

-You don’t trust me anymore? – you pouted with a fake saddened tone as she took a stick of butter and a few eggs out of the fridge, turning her body towards you, a hand on the counter and the other on her hip, head lulled to the side. She sighed but smiled, your pouting making you look just so adorable.

-You know I do, otherwise I wouldn’t have given you the fun part of the recipe. You get to paint the cookies, baby.

-Yeah, but it’s fun doing things together. I want you to paint with me.

-Who said I wasn’t going to? You just make the icing and leave it on the side while I start on the batter and then we can cut them together. Does my baby like that?

Nodding your head she moved her hands to your cheeks kissing your lips tenderly, a smile on her lips when she parted from you. Happy that you had got, yet again, another kiss you took a small bowl from the cupboard above your head, checking the recipe that was stuck to the exhaust hood above the stove with a magnet before picking up two eggs, separating the yolks from the whites. Lilia kindly took the yolks and put them aside to use them at lunch time while you beat the whites with the whisk a bit. You didn’t need to do it, you just liked to before putting the icing sugar in, which you could not find in any of the cupboards. You pulled doors open, drawers, you even searched the fridge, it wouldn’t have been the first time any of you had accidentally put something in that didn’t belong there, but it was nowhere, and you could have sworn you had bought some not long ago. Lilia saw you moving frantically all over the kitchen and asked loudly what you needed over the music of “Jingle Bells Rocks” that was now playing. Upon hearing what you needed she moved aside to present you with a bright orange bottle.

Of course, she must have picked it and put aside when she had begun to gather ingredients. She was measuring the sugar, your eyes watching how her hands, dressed in rings on multiple fingers, tapped the bag and moved to the beath of the song. With a small cloud of floating icing sugar you mixed it all, a white paste forming in the bowl to which you added a little bit of corn syrup to make it glossier, just a touch that you liked. Now came the fun bit, taking the food colouring and crating the weirdest shades you could come up with. With a spoon you poured some of the mixture into an empty glass, adding a drop of red that turned pink upon mixing it with a teaspoon, so you added a few more, happy with the bright red that you made and setting it aside. Lilia looked at your science experiment from the corner of her eyes, hands adding spoonfuls of flour into the wet ingredients, folding the powder in. You were like a little kid with a bunch of sharpies and crayons painting lines and figures excited to see the final outcome, Lilia’s brown eyes looking at you as you mixed red and blue to create purple, although right now it looked a bit more like a suspicious brown. She let you finish mixing the colours, reminding you to leave part of the icing white, before adding the last few touches of a pinch of salt and baking powder, the dough clumpy in the bowl, as it should be.

 -Are you done with the arts and crafts, babe?

-Yeah, I think. How do you make grey?

-You don’t. I didn’t get any black colouring. Why would you want to add grey to Christmas cookies?

-Well, I don’t have an idea right now, but I like to have a range.

-Come on, Van Gogh, let’s roll the dough.

While you closed the last bottle of colouring Lilia placed the dough on the table, her strong arms and hands kneading and rolling to combine it and let it form a big smooth ball. You were mesmerised by the way her muscles moved up and down even through the lose sleeves of her dressing gown, her chest bouncing gently to the motion, your eyes glued to soft flesh of her neck and collarbones through the low-cut dress she was wearing, her amulet swaying along. It was incident to stare like that, but she was just too captivating, and she knew. She could feel your eyes watching her every move, a shiver running down her spine, but she never stopped kneading, there would plenty of time for her to take you to bed later. She gave it a few more punches before patting the little ball of dough, signalling that she was done.

-Should I get the rolling pin?

-Yeah, this is ready. It’s in the second drawer, next to the bottle opener.

-It’s too early for a glass wine, right?

-Yes, darling. It’s my company so bad that you need to get drunk at 10 am? – she raised an eyebrow while looking at you, a hand on her hip over her apron. Only a couple of feet separated you, but it was too much of a gap for you, snaking your arms around her neck while her hands automatically moved to your waist, her lips ghosting over yours.

-Never. You are far too alluring and beautiful, I would hate to get drunk and forget tomorrow how you looked today, or how your perfume compliments the smell of cookies so well.

A childish giggle escaped her mouth, muffled when she bent to peck your lips. She was clingy today, or amorous, either way you were not complaining. Parting from you she patted your hip, a sign that she needed you to get her the rolling pin, which of course you did. Anything she needed. There was a certain level of excitement building in your chest as Lilia rolled the dough until it was a quarter inch thick, the sheet overtaking half of the kitchen table, the best part coming at last.

-Right, where are the cookie cutters, babe?

-They should be in a box in the cupboard over the sink. Let me check. – pulling a chair from under the table you stepped on it to check in between the toaster and a juicer that you had got her for her birthday, date that she still refused to tell the girls in the coven, Sharon included as she could be a bit of babble when she had a glass or two of wine in her system. You searched but the box was nowhere to be found. – I can’t find them, did you move them, hon?

-No, not that I remember. Have you looked behind the coffee bags?

-Yeah, they’re not there. Where… Ah… I know where they are.

-Where? I’ll get them while you come down.

-Does the car have gas? – she was resting her backside against the edge of the desk as you stepped down, returning the chair underneath the table.

-What? What does the car have to do with anything?

-I lent them to Agatha.

-What? Why?

-I don’t know, I stopped asking her what she needs things for. I’m not getting another story of her and Rio’s sexual exploits during an expo or whatever. She just asked for them, so I lent them to her.

-You mean gave them to her. We are going to have to buy new ones. Well, it’s not too much of a loss, just grab a couple of knifes and we’ll freehand the cookies.

You practically hopped your way to the upper drawer to pick a pair, rushing back to her side and handing her one. You stared at the dough as if calculating, figuring out exactly what you wanted to do and after a moment, you began to create what you were sure was a candy cane, super proud of the shape until you looked at Lilia, who had had the same idea, and noticed how your lines were hardly straight and the curve was more a 90º angle.

-Why does yours look like an actual candy cane?

-Practice. Oh, yours is not that bad, baby. What is it?

-Ha ha. You know very well what it is.

-Yes, sorry, just teasing.

It was now a competition for you, eyes squinted and your teeth biting down on the tip of your tongue as you tried to keep the knife straight through every line, connecting them all and creating a star, or what you thought should be one, because it looked more as if it had just been run over by a car. Lilia laughed when she saw it and in a childish move you planted your index finger right on her Christmas tree, squishing it while sticking your tongue out. She gasped while calling your name.

-Y/N!

-You laughed at my star!

-It doesn’t look like one, baby.

-And now your tree doesn’t look like a tree, so we are even.

-Darling, it doesn’t matter if they are not perfect, we know what they are supposed to be and that’s all that matters. So what if your star needs a bit of therapy? Now my tree needs a chiropractor. Let’s continue, alright?

-Just don’t laugh again.

-I promise, scouts honour.

She pecked your lips and forehead before tuning back to the dough. The next form was supposed to be a snowman, but it looked more like a bunch of amorphous meatballs, a giggle sliding through your lips at the sight. You turned to check Lilia’s attempt at a reindeer which was more along the lines of a corgi with horns. You could not help it, it brought a cackle out of you, her peppery curls bouncing around her face as she wiped her head to look at you.

-I didn’t laugh at yours!

-Yeah, but… what the hell is that Lils?

-It’s a… It was supposed to be a reindeer.

-I’m sorry honey, but it looks nothing like one.

-Well, it’s a new breed. From Canada.

-Shall we name it? – your hand went to her shoulder, your head resting over it as you both watched the figure.

-Agatha, for stealing our cookie cutters.

She laughed at her own joke, your own snorting only adding to the humour of the moment, without a care in the world. Both of you carried on making shapes and forms, some of them better than others, some being additions to the “new breed from Canada”. You had pointed at each other’s creations laughing and praising, giving some of them names until you had the entire coven in cookie form, but you and Lilia’s figures could not be those weird interpretations of snowmens and trees, so you let her carve yourselves as two beautiful gingerbread women. It had started out as Christmas cookies but in the end, when Lilia had begun to move them to the floating trays, there had been more amorphous beings than accurate forms, but neither of you cared one bit, “Fairytale of New York” following “Santa Baby” on your Christmas playlist. Lilia’s head perked up at the sound of the music, pushing the door to the oven with her hip until it closed, setting a timer for ten minutes. She grabbed your hand, intertwining her fingers with yours as she pressed you against her, swaying to the song.

She must have been a singer and a dancer at some point in her life, there was just no way she could be that good and not have had shown her gift to the world at least once. You would ask her one of these days, but as of now you were happy to dance with her in the kitchen, listening to her sweet voice follow the tune. The moment was perfect, down to the song, to the way the sun caught in her hair as she twirled you both around the room, her citrusy perfume filling up your lungs along with the sweetness of the cookies. How could you have ever been blue? How could you have ever thought that happiness was not in for you? Lilia had come into your life and the world was suddenly a beautiful place where nothing could ever go wrong. Staring at her eyes it was as if they were the melted chocolate you had tasted on her lips earlier, warm and loving.

-They've got cars big as bars, they've got rivers of gold.

-But the wind goes right through you, it's no place for the old.

-When you first took my hand on a cold Christmas Eve.

-You promised me Broadway was waiting for me.

-You were handsome

-You were pretty, Queen of New York City

She laughed at the nickname, head lulled back, her feet never stopping, moving from side to side. The living area wasn’t precisely Buckingham Place, but you two made it work, and as Lilia’s moved both your bodies, her dressing gown brushing the foot of the Christmas tree, she truly showed you how much that tiny little room could give. The warm light that had bathed the room suddenly disappeared, the bright colourful lights that she had placed in every corner overtaking and lighting up the room in a dance of colours and shapes. Your eyes drifted to the window seeing the sky covered by big fluffy white clouds, a gentle breeze having picked up outside the house, the first few snowflakes beginning to fall, but Lilia claimed your attention when she pushed your body away form hers while still holding your hands.

-The boys of the NYPD choir were singing Galway Bay and the bells were ringing out for Christmas day.

She pulled you back against her body once again, her arms around your waist, your hands resting on the back of her neck twirling her soft curls in between your fingers. Her forehead was pressed against yours, the movements slow as the song carried onto the last few verses letting the words drip from her lips in hushed tones only for you to hear. The two of you had closed your eyes letting the warmth of each other’s bodies wrap around you, basking in the way you could feel the love seeping from every pore, from every word that escaped her lips. It wasn’t until she sang the last verse, her breath tickling your nose, that she did press her lips to yours, hiding her face into the crook of your neck after a few moments to escape the reality outside those four walls. “Auld Lang Syne” followed, the softer tune perfect for you both to simply sway on the spot, your hands caressing Lilia’s hair and neck, your cheek resting against her ear as she breathed in your perfume and shampoo, humming happily. Neither of you wanted the moment to end, feeling as if being like this, in each other’s arms, was just the perfect way to live Christmas Eve before the craziness of going over to Sharon’s with the rest of the coven happened. You wanted to savour every second you had with Lilia and only Lilia. For once the world could wait, stop moving altogether until you were ready to carry on with life, though you doubted you would ever let the happen.

Right on time the last few notes playing marked start of another song, the oven starting to beep. Lilia did not wish to move, but she had to, extracting herself after a minute to pull the trays out, letting them float around just like she had done before. You helped her transfer the chocolate chip cookies onto a plate, setting them aside so she could let the sugar cookies out of the trays and onto the racks. But you were impatient, she knew, and with a flick of her wrist, your eyes shinning gleefully as you watched a few sparkles of golden magic fly from her fingertips, they were cold enough to be placed on the kitchen table to be decorated.

-Do you have any ideas you want to share, darling?

-Not really, well, maybe. I think we should paint the Coven with their signature colours.

-Alright. Let’s start with Agatha, that way if she looks bad it won’t matter much. She owes me a bunch of cutters.

It was playful banter, she didn’t really hate Agatha, quite the opposite, she took care of the woman as if she were a daughter, looking after her, looking out for her, protecting her from the world as if she were afraid someone could break her. It was one of the main things that had attracted you to her at first, her caring, nurturing nature. She picked up an empty pipping bag and let you fill it up with the purple icing before cutting the tip. The first blob fell right in the middle of the reindeer, and since there wasn’t much she could now she carried on. The shape was horrid, but she assured you that once the details were added it would bring it all together. You weren’t very sure. The eyes looked a bit disproportionate, and the antlers were a bit thick, but all in all Lilia thought it looked good, and you didn’t want to disagree.

-My turn now, let me do Sharon. In green?

-Yeah, we have two green witches, we’ll just make Rio’s eyes brown and call it a day.

You might not have been gifted with the knife, but you sure were better with the pipping bag than Lilia. Your reindeer was more accurate, green but accurate, the small beady eyes perfectly positioned but the antlers… the looked like a bunch of worms. It suited a green witch you supposed. Lilia was quick to praise and tell you that it was beautiful, kissing your temple and watching as you did Rio’s as well, a perfect reindeer in front you down to red nose and everything. You were so excited, bouncing in her arms, her words filled with love and joy as she told you just how pretty it was. Her hands moved on to Jen, the shape of the snowwoman much easier than that of a reindeer in pretty shade of pink, the eyes and buttons brown, along with a blue scarf and orange nose. She put it aside to let the icing harden your hands working on Billy as she did Alice, both snowman that looked pretty decent taking on account that Lilia’s orange pipping bag burst in her hand just as she was finishing Alice’s body, icing all over the table and a couple of candy cane cookies.

-What a mess!

-Baking is messy, Lils. Don’t worry, there’s enough icing left to make more orange.

-But…

-It’s perfectly fine, honey, honestly. Just clean that up and I’ll make more. And those two cookies can be like orange flavoured candy canes. See? Problem solved.

-My baking hero.

Grabbing a glass after she pecked your cheek, you were quick to blend the right shade of orange, putting it inside a new pipping bag and handing it to Lilia so she could finish Alice’s body. It was beautiful to do this together, Lilia’s lines wiggly and the consistency a big lumpy when she tried to do the first few stockings until she gave up and moved on to the stars, easier in her opinion. You tried to write names on the stockings once she had moved them to your side of the table, but they were more like scribbles that no one could understand, still the colour code every member of the coven had settled for kind of helped to identify which was for which. The moment was both cozy and hilarious, pointing at the figures you were both painting, commenting, laughing and scraping to begin again only to end up with the same wiggly lines and mismatched colours. Lilia once in a while added her own touch to one of your cookies, be it a weird bow or a string of tinsel around a tree while you gave hers a more artistic touch by adding sparkles to her candy canes or little dots of colour on her reindeer’s antlers claiming that they were Christmas lights. She had laughed hard at that stating in between laboured breaths that it looked as if the poor thing had crashed a farmers’ market, and to be honest it kind of did, laughing along with her, your body pressed against her arm as you both shook and cackled. But neither of you cared, they were yours and in their horrid looks they looked perfect to you. The only thing left was to paint were you and Lilia’s gingerbread women, something that you were left in charge of as Lilia didn’t want to risk it. The pressure was real as you did Lilia’s face, her curls a mix of white and brown icing before you moved onto the clothes giving her a yellow jacket, white blouse and blue pants, the outfit you had met her in when she had been thrown out of the Witches Road after fishing her task. She had been covered in mud back then, but you weren’t one to add brown and destroy her beautiful cookie. You put as much effort in your own, dressing yourself in a pair of black trousers and a red blouse, your hair in a bun above your head.

-They look beautiful babe. Mirror images of reality.

-It’s easy when you have the perfect model in front of you. – she smiled at the compliment, a gentle pink hue dressing her cheeks. She blushed so tenderly and so beautifully.

-Flattery will get you everywhere with me, darling.

-I certainly hope so.

-As much as I love the idea of letting you have your way with me, why don’t we let these cookies settle for a bit and go out?

-Everything’s closed.

-I didn’t say that we had to go somewhere in specific. You like snow, don’t you?

-Of course!

-Then get your winter boots on and let’s make a real snowman!

-Really?!

You jumped on the spot nearly knocking over the table, Lilia’s hands shooting to grab it, your lips on her cheek before rushing to the other side of the room. You apologised while running to your closet, grabbing a jumper, a pair of thicker trousers along with some Harry Potter socks and rushing to the bathroom, your voice reaching her ears as you sang loudly, your voice filled with joy, knocking over things that were on the sink.

-Do you want to build a snowman?!

-Oh, God, not “Frozen” again.

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Oh, my Lord, talk about your colorful homes, you gotta see this one. (I mean, look at the front door, and they painted all the bricks blue.) It was built in 1991, but looks totally mid-century modern. Located in Pauma Valley, California, it has 3bds, 4ba, and is priced at $1.15M.

The front door is purple on the inside. Love the colorful sputnik light.

We have to remember that this home was built in the 90s, so it had to be custom-designed. Look at the size of this conversation pit.

Wow, look at the orange beams and the simulated Lego column. How fun would it be to fill it w/colored plastic balls?

It even has a living wall of ivy.

Look at that- there are beams above the beams. Does that neon sign say "Steak Me Home Tonight?" Like the Eddie Money song, Take Me Home Tonight- corny.

This is the living room, aside from the conversation pit. I like the fireplace.

There's a nice bar back here. I would like it if the furnishings came with this house.

The only color in the spacious kitchen is the center island and colorful dishes on the open shelving.

This is a family room. Look at the texture on the fireplace.

The primary bedroom has a purple carpet and a colorful mural. The bed's a little dull, though.

Love this bath. Where did they find pink toilet paper roll wallpaper?

Love the home office.

The basement is finished, but it's just a blank slate.

Large patio with a pool and a privacy wall on the side of the home.

Looks like there's a greenhouse or conservatory.

Behind the house is a 2-level patio and greenspace.

Brick columns flank the entrance to the property via a long driveway.

The home, surrounded by a wall, is on a .50 acre lot.

[rangerbarbz]

Love is but a Walk in the Park

Disclaimer: This is the second part of a series I am starting about the reader dating Ford while they are in college. Once again, I really appreciate the support, and I hope everyone enjoys it!

Summary: Ford and the reader are going on their first date after the reader drunkenly confesses their feelings to him.

“So, are y’all boyfriend and girlfriend, or what?”

You made eye contact with your roommate in the mirror of your bathroom. You were finishing up applying mascara. “I mean…maybe? I think so. I don’t know,” you answered. You turned around to face her. “Okay. How do I look?” You did a little spin for her. You were wearing an orange halter top with matching flared pants. You ironed some flower patches onto your back pockets last night to spruce them up a bit, as well.

Your roommate nodded in approval with a grin on her face. “You look foxy!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “He’s going to drop dead when he sees you.” After she said that, there was a knock at the door. “Ooh! There’s your lover boy now!” She handed your purse to you. “Go get em’, girl.”

“Thank you so much. I’ll tell you about it when I get back,” you replied excitedly. You opened the door to see a very well-dressed Ford. He was wearing a yellow button-up tucked into nice blue jeans, and his sleeves were rolled up to reveal his muscular, slightly hairy forearms. He was holding a bouquet of purple lilacs that were wrapped in a white ribbon.

You gasped. “Ford, these are beautiful! You got these for me?”

He handed you the flowers. “Of course. Do you like them?” he asked shyly.

“Like them? I love them!” you gushed, throwing your arms around his neck. He chuckled and hugged you back as you breathed in his scent. He smelled like bourbon and trees. This must have been some new cologne because he had never smelled like this before. Did he wear this just for you?

“Let me put these in my room, and I’ll be right back out,” you said with a huge smile on your face. You opened the door to your roommate standing there with a vase already filled with water.

“I’ll take those,” she stated, grabbing the bouquet delicately and putting them in the vase. “I was eavesdropping on y’all, so I went ahead and got this ready for you,” she said with a wink.

You laughed. “Thanks! You’re the best!” you replied, waving at her, and walking back out to Ford. He had a slight blush on his face. “Where are you taking me, handsome?” you asked, hooking your arm around his. This caused his face to redden even more. You loved making him flustered.

“Well, uh, I was wanting to take a walk in the park with you…gorgeous.” Your heart fluttered in your chest at his pet name for you. This was going to be a good day.

                                                                                | At the Park |

It was a beautiful sunny day at the park y’all went to. There were flowers everywhere and some peculiar playground equipment that included a life-size chess game. It seemed as if maybe it was more for adults rather than children which interested you. Ford’s attention quickly went to the large Rook piece that was sat a couple of yards across from him. He looked at the piece and back at you. “Do you know how to play?” Ford asked giddily.

You smiled back at him. He was adorable when he got excited. “I actually don’t, but I would be happy to learn.” He beamed at you taking your hand in his and leading you towards the board game.

“What color would you like to be?”

“Hmm,” you wondered. “I’ll be white, if that’s okay with you.”

“That’s perfectly fine! I always choose black anyways.” He then began to explain to you the rules of the game thoroughly, but he might as well have been talking to a brick wall. You couldn’t focus on anything when the sunshine was hitting his whiskey eyes just right, and the wind was blowing his hair in a way that it made look bouncy. If this was the desert, then he was your pitcher of water.

“Does that make sense?” he interrupted your daydreaming.

You snapped back to reality. “Yes. Definitely.” It didn’t, and he had to help you a lot, but he didn’t mind. It was an excuse to come over and guide you. He admired your concentrated face and the way your nose scrunched when you were thinking hard. It was a sight he was taking a mental picture of.

As you were picking up and moving a piece across the board, Ford said, “I love the patches you put on.” You turned your head over your shoulder to look at him. You were going to mess with him.

“Ford Pines, were you looking at my butt?”

He began stuttering to explain himself. “No! I mean, yes, I was, but not in that way! Not to objectify you. Your butt looks nice. NO! The patches do, but not that your butt doesn’t-‘’ Ford stumbled over his words.

You burst into laughter. “I’m just joking with you, Ford. I put those patches on for that exact reason,” you purred, sending a wink his way.

“Oh. I see,” he chuckled. He would never want you to think that he only wanted you for your body. (However, he did want your body.) “I just didn’t want you to think I’m some kind of jerk,” he explained. You walked over to him and put your hands on his broad shoulders.

“Ford. You don’t have a jerky bone in your body. I have never once thought that about you,” you reassured him. You looked back at the chess game. “Since you’re about to win, would you like to go for a walk?” He smiled back at you.

“Yes. I would like that very much.” You took his hand into yours and started your walk in the park. You and Ford sniffed flowers, went down elaborately built slides, and climbed fake rock walls. There was so much to do at this park, and it truly was a fun time.

After doing some goofy poses with some statues, you both decided it was time to get something to eat. You continued your stroll together until you reached the end of the sidewalk. To your left was a little stand called “The Snack Shack” that smelled delicious. It had an ice cream cone and a hot dog painted on the side and was covered in red and white stripes.

“Ooh, this place looks good Ford! Do you want to eat here?” you asked, looking at him. He was already looking at you with a warm smile on his face. He darted his head to the building to make it look like he wasn’t already staring at you, even if it was obvious.

“Sure! My treat,” he answered, as y’all walked towards the check out. An older man in a Hawaiian shirt was standing behind the check-out. Next to the register lay a sleeping cat. It was a light orange, but the first thing you noticed was his paws.

You gasped. “Look Ford!” He was studying the menu above him, so you grabbed his arm to get his attention. “This cat is like you!” The cat woke up with a big yawn and stretched out. This cat has six toes on each foot.

Ford giggled. “How about that. It’s polydactyl. Extraordinary. What’s its name?” The cat rubbed its head against his hand and purred at the affection it was receiving. The man at the counter chuckled.

“Her name is Hex,” said the man fondly. “She’s my baby. Had her since the day she was born.” His gaze was drawn to Ford’s hand. His face began to look confused, and you were ready to sock this guy in the nose if he had anything smart to say. “How about that,” he laughed. “That’s something you don’t see every day. You got six digits, too! You know they say that’s supposed to be good luck, or something.”

Ford looked at you with a twinkle in his eye. “I would say so.”

                                                                                | At the Bench |

Ford and you sat on a bench finishing up the pretzels and soda he got you two. A mother duck and her babies swam around in the pond in front of you, diving for food. You were under the shade of two trees, and a few people jogged on the asphalt track around the pond. It was perfect.

You leaned your head on his shoulder and observed the scenery around you. “Ford, this has been such an amazing day,” you sighed dreamily. He put his arm around you and scooted you closer to him.

“I concur. I have truly enjoyed this day with you, Y/N,” he replied softly. You could fall asleep you were so relaxed, but you wanted to spend as much time as you could with him at this moment. You looked up at him; he was a vision. You decided to make a move.

You removed his arm from around you and sat on your knees to face him. His head had turned to look at you, as well. You held your hand against his stubbly cheek. He jumped a bit but quickly leaned into it. “Ford… Can I kiss you?” You were so nervous asking. You weren’t used to making the first move, but you guessed so wasn’t he.

His face went red. “Yes please.” He seemed eager. You grinned and began to inch your face towards his. “But wait.” You stopped. “This is my first kiss, so I apologize if it’s bad, “he apologized. You were now millimeters away from his lips. You ran your hands into the side of his hair.

“Let me be the judge of that.” You pressed your lips into his. Every nerve in your body lit up. He sighed contently when your lips touched his. It was heaven. He tasted like the Cola you were just drinking earlier, but you didn’t mind. His mouth was so soft. Ford’s hands had trouble figuring out where to be until you placed them on your waist. His strong hands moved down to your hips to squeeze them. You moaned which seemed to fire up Ford a bit. He separated from the kiss to plant his lips on the side of your jaw. He left a trail of kisses down your neck making you shiver.

You would have loved to keep going, but it seemed that Ford forgot y’all were in public. Those joggers from earlier were coming around the curve any second now. You held his face in your hands to make eye contact with him. “Easy there, tiger, we got an audience.” His face went red, and he awkwardly waved hello as two people in athletic wear speedwalked pass you two.

As soon as they were gone, he cupped your cheeks and kissed you passionately. His hands were exploring the exposed skin of your back. He unlocked your lips and looked into your eyes. You knew your face was flushed, and his pupils were insanely dilated. “I’m sorry, my dear. You are just so intoxicating,” he whispered. You could feel arousal building up inside you. You craved more of him.

“Should we take this somewhere more private?” you suggested.

                                                                                                | THE END |

Author’s Note: Third part: yay or nay?

[vampireheist]

After Hours

Warning: Smut. Stuck in a house with vampires, Y/N AU with krisfor Lazar. sorry if this is BAD. this my first time writing smut, and I just came up with this as soon as I woke up. the MAN IS FINE

After hearing the words 'dinner time' you could swear your heart did a somersault. The rumors of Lazar being evil and monstrous were true, of course deep down you didn’t believe them, you just assumed they were rumors made up to scare people who ever dared to Steal from the crime lore.

you just assume Rickles, and Frank were playing some kind of trick on you, to scare you. knowing you're easily scared of everything.

Lazar stood stiffly next to his daughter and stared at you and joey with Hunger. if it wasn't for Abigial convincing her father to spare both of you. both of you would just be added corpses- rotten away with the others.

You fiddled with your purple bracelet, twisting and snapping, you wanted to leave as soon as possible. Your skin itched, feeling sticky from the blood that exploded on you.

“See around Y/n and Joey,” she giggled.

You stared at Lazar not wanting to leave right away but wanted to get out of death’s way. The man was simply gorgeous. the way he tilted his head, glaring at the both of you with a dark, ‘before I change my mind’ appeal. filled your stomach with fearful butterflies.

Joey pulled you along, grabbing a hold onto your arm. Both of you walked out of the bloody library and down the stairs, through the front gate.

To your surprise the Van you and the rest of the rat pack rode in yesterday, was covered in a pile of snow. As it continues to pour heavy shower of Snow, you and joey looked at each other, none of you brought any winter gears, and to your shock you didn’t even know it was going to snow.

“I guess we’re spending a night with vampires.”

Your heart raced after those words, but you felt some sort of excitement, spending a night in a haunted manor located far in the woods where no one could hear you scream with a couple of vampires was no worries.

But spending it with one that was KNOWN to kill his enemies brutally made your palms sweat, heart raced as your airway begins to tighten. You looked at the clock above. It was at a quarter after 10. And 22 hours before the sun comes back up.

“We can’t stay here after hours, joey,” You muttered. “You heard what he said.”

“Where are we going to go, the roads are closed, and the car is covered in a pile of snow. We have no choice but to stay inside where it’s warm, till the sun comes up,” she explained, limping to the fireplace.

You swallowed and went to go find a spare room, one with a lock. The room was covered in cobwebs with no windows, and only a dim orange light -not bright enough to see the entire room- with a brick fireplace and a vintage 1920’s television.

You found some matches, swiping it against the brick layer, till a small orange flame appeared.

You dusted off the bed, plopping down on it watching the ceiling. The room was too quiet to stay here listening to the roaring fireplace and the heavy breeze of snow. you needed Nosie- before your brain convinces you there's someone here and you going to die.

A creepy cartoon appeared on the small wide television. It took you awhile to find a channel with a signal. Eventually, after playing with the numbers on the side and banging your fist against the top, a signal came.

You could feel your skin staring to break out from the disgusting bacteria that exploded on you. You scanned through the closets finding a stack of towels and a robe. And walk out to find a bathroom.

You came out of the shower smelling like expensive lavender with your hair wrapped in a tight bun, with your nipples pressing against the soft fabric. You didn’t have any spare clothes to wear. So were fucked. Wow, Vampires really know their stuff.  You thought, walking down the hall to the kitchen, leaving the pile of bloody clothes in the bathroom hamper.

Your fingers creased the walls as you stride down the steps. you turned around feeling eyes on the back of your head. For a second, you totally forgot you were trapped inside a house full of hungry centuries old vampires. You began to panic again, hurrying down the steps to get some food from the kitchen.

Once you found a can of soup and searched the cabinets for bowels. You made your way back up the steps but not without hearing a creak inside of the boarded up tiny back way with a broken elevator and rounded stairs.

“Joey,” you called.

Silence.

“You bet not be fucking with me Joey.”

Silence.

You continued up the steps to your safe in closure, locking the door shut, and plopping back down on the bed to watch cartoons and eat your bowl of soup. You began to feel eyes staring at you, in the shadowy part of the room, the only spot where the orange light doesn’t reach.

“I thought I told you to leave,” said the raspy old European voice.

Your heart thumps against your chest, knowing who the voice belongs to. “it’s a blizzard out there...”

“Hmm.”

“So, you rather be eaten by a vampire than try to make it home, before the froze bite kills you.”

You exhaled heavily. Afraid to say something else that’ll tick him off. “When the sun comes up, we’ll be out of your hair.”  

“Who said you would make it before sunrise,” he added.

You didn’t see it, but you felt him standing up from the sofa across the room. In a matter second, he was in front of the tv, walking with wide strides, arms behind his back. You watched up as he sniffed the air, looking down upon you, watching his prey every move.

“I don’t think your daughter would be very happy if she found out her father killed her heroes, after abandoning her.”  

He stopped, stood still where he was and glared at you darkly, his shaded lips pressed together. “My daughter doesn’t control what I do.”

You swallowed, throat tightened, crawling backwards on both of your hands. He moved forward following your stride, till he was at the foot of the bed and your back pressed against the yellow pillows.

“It’s a good thing the door is locked, only able to be opened from the inside.” He smirks mischievously.

“Otherwise, no one would be able to help you, while you scream.”

He half-smirked, showing his terrifying pointy fangs. Sniffing. Crawling slowly towards you. “My god, you smell delicious.”

Your heart raced, heat rushing towards your clit. his big pale vampiric hands clasped around your legs, spreading them apart.

“It makes me thirst,” he rasped, a huge vein popping underneath his skin, appearing on the side of his neck.

In a quick motion, he pulled you forward, with your heated clit facing him. You gasped, aching from his strength, and his touch. The century old crime lore was much stronger than you thought, much stronger than he's daughter- who tried to kill you on multiply occasions throughout the haunted manor.

playing hide and seek with a father who happened to be a notorious serial killer of his days, taught you how to survive when danger alerts.

His nose brushed against your skin as he sniffled so gently, taking it all in., you closed your eyes, feeling him explore your body like a canvas, searching for the spot to stroke slowly and till there’s no empty space left.

He stops, pulling apart from your lower body. No, don’t stop. don’t stop. Please don’t stop.

You opened your eyes with the crime lore kneeling above you, with his ocean eyes that hold no human emotions, but predatory hunger, staring at you.

He pulls out a small little toy from his inner pockets, stroking it against the top of your clit. The feeling of the toy felt extremely cold like it had been in the freezer. He pressed a button, and the thing began to vibrate. You gasped, gripping the sheets as he moved in gentle circles, feeling the vibration coming from the toy.

“Fuck...” you moan, biting your lower lip.

He unties the robe, exposing your entire body to the cold atmosphere in the room. The room was now freezing, and the fire went out. You looked to the left, right above the ceiling, a small diamond shaped window was latched open letting in the snow.

Lazar begins to tease your nipples, twisting them slowly to make it hurt, licking them with his hot tongue with the toy going in circles. you we’re soak and wet, waiting for him to give you more.  

“Lazar, please,” you begged.

You searched for his pants buckle wanting to feel him inside of you. even if it kills you. You needed him. You need him badly.

You wanted to feel closer to him. He stops your search, hauling your wrist against the sheet as he continues with the toy.  

He smiles. He stops the toy throwing it across the room, moving further down below your soaking wet clit.

You could feel his vampiric strength as he held your legs in place, spread apart. You threw your head back, biting your lower lip stopping yourself from moaning. His hot moisten tongue moved in motion, slurping up your throbbing clit.

He started off slow and till he became much faster, sucking on every drop of you, his tongue going and out.

“Fuck, Lazaar,” you quietly moan, running your fingers through his perfectly jet-black hair.

Lazar stops, tying both of your wrists to the wooden headboards in a vampiric motion. “You aren���t worthy of touching me.” he says before continuing.

Once he was done feasting on you. He unzips himself, pulling out his harden throbbing shaft, centering it around your aching clit with both of your wrists tied to the headboard.

He slithers in slowly. You winced, biting down on your tongue, holding in a scream, feeling your folds painfully stretching as he slips deep inside of you.

“LAZAR,” you quietly screamed, gripping onto the housecoat robes he tied you to the bed with.

[dandylovesturtles]

Just felt like visiting my 100ft boys this morning

This takes place during Recovery Arc because I’m just jumping all around the timeline

CW: suicide… implied? but it’s just a misunderstanding

———

Blue looks grumpy, leaning against the wall with his hands shoved in the pockets of his hoodie and his glare fixed on the opposite wall. Of course, Blue always looks grumpy when Orange isn’t around, and asking him if he’s alright has about a 50/50 chance of getting snapped at.

Splinter decides to brave it anyway.

“Everything alright, Blue?” he asks, padding down the walkway toward him. Blue looks down, and the pout he gets on his face is adorably childish. Perhaps Splinter will not get snapped at today.

“Donnie’s been hogging the bathroom for like, three hours,” he whines, and ah, that would certainly make anyone grumpy. The mundanity of the situation almost makes Splinter smile, but he manages not to, or he really will get snapped at.

(It’s just nice for his boys to have simple, normal problems that Splinter can actually do something about.)

“Three hours? What has he been doing in there?” Splinter remembers taking over the bathroom for hours at a time as a teenager, but that’s because he was fixing his face and styling his hair. And he’s pretty certain that is not what Purple is up to.

“I dunno. He said he was taking a bath.” Blue throws his hands up, frustrated.

“Alright, alright. I will get him to wrap it up.”

Splinter walks the rest of the hallway to the bathroom, Blue padding along quietly after him. As he’s said, the door is closed, and Splinter knocks.

“Purple? Are you in there?”

“He won’t answer,” huffs Blue. Splinter waves him off, knocking louder.

“Purple, your brothers need their turn! Finish what you are doing and come out.”

Nothing again. “See?” says Blue.

Splinter frowns, glancing back at his other son. “You’re sure he’s in there?” He can’t even hear movement from inside.

“Yeah, he’s in there.”

Splinter feels a sense of foreboding come over him. The bathroom is far too silent to be inhabited by a teenage boy, unless…

Fear grabbing at his heart, Splinter grabs the doorknob. “Donatello! I am coming in!” he calls, before turning it.

It’s unlocked, which saves Splinter the immediate trouble of kicking it in.

He rushes inside, and at first glance the room seems empty. He approaches the tub, and finally finds…

A body at the bottom of the water, perfectly still, unmoving…

In a panic, Splinter jumps into the tub, grabbing at Donnie’s shoulders and pulling him up. His heart is thudding in his chest, his mind whirling over what had he missed, what hadn’t he noticed-

Purple blinks the water out of his eyes and then gives him a big, lopsided smile. “Hi Dad!”

Splinter stares at him for a few moments, uncomprehending. He’s fine? He’s fine. He certainly seems fine…

“What were you doing?” Splinter manages to ask.

Purple looks unbothered by Splinter’s state - he just shifts around to be more comfortable. “I was taking a nap.”

“Taking a nap?” Splinter repeats stupidly. But, slowly, the research he’s done on his boys’ species floats back to him. Right, softshells live most of their lives under water. He isn’t sure how long Purple can hold his breath for, but he knows it’s far longer than a human, or even his other sons.

So he really was just taking a nap. Splinter sags in relief.

“I see. You were taking a nap.”

“Yes.” Purple looks between him and Blue, who is peeking around the doorframe (he quickly ducks back out of sight). Finally, it seems like Purple is catching on to the mood in the room, because his smile falls. “I did something wrong.”

It’s not a question. Splinter rushes to reassure him. “No, no, you didn’t. It’s just that Blue needs his turn in here.”

“Oh, he can come in. I left the door unlocked.”

“I think he would like privacy.”

Privacy itself had been a foreign concept to all the boys at first, and only Blue and Orange seem to actually value it so far. That much is clear by the confusion in Purple’s eyes, but he relents, standing up in the tub. “Okay. I can leave.”

“Good boy. Now let’s get dried off.”

Two fluffy towels later, they relinquish the room to a still grumpy Blue (who does not say thank you - something to work on later) and walk together to the kitchen. Splinter goes about making tea while Purple sits at the table.

“My son, may I ask why you were napping in the tub?” he asks.

“It’s easier to sleep in the water,” says Purple like this is obvious.

“How so?”

This takes him a moment longer to answer. Splinter guesses he’s never had to explain this before.

“…Out here is… inconsistent.” He taps his fingers against the table. “There are all kinds of sounds. Like the air conditioning turning on and off. Or Raph snores sometimes and sometimes he doesn’t. And there’s different feelings. Sometimes the sheets are wrong. Or my pillow is wrong. Or Mikey wants to sleep in bed with me, but other times he doesn’t.” He runs his hands over his arms. “The water is the same feeling all the time. I like it under there.”

Splinter thinks he understands. Purple has shown the most sensitivity to textures and noises and lights. Staying underwater must help with all those things.

He pours the tea, then brings a mug to Purple before sitting down across from him. “Sleeping in the water makes you feel safe?” he summarizes, and Purple nods.

“Sometimes I can’t sleep out here. So I sleep in the tub instead.”

“I see.” Splinter turns it over in his head. This is one of the rare problems that has an easy solution - he’s gotten lucky today.

“Well, you cannot hog the bathroom when your brothers need it too,” he says, and Purple slumps in his seat. “So how about we get you a small pool for your room?”

Immediately he brightens again. “Just for me?”

“Just for you! I think an inflatable kiddie pool should be big enough.” He holds out his hands in demonstration. “You can fill it up when you need it and put it away when you don’t.”

“They make those?” Purple asks in awe, and Splinter nods.

“They do! Surely we can find a purple one for you.”

Purple shakes his hands the way he does when he’s excited, and Splinter has to reach out quick to save his tea from being overturned. “Can I go look now? Online?”

“Yes, but don’t buy anything until you show it to me first, alright?”

“Right.” Purple jumps up from the table, tea abandoned. “Thanks, Dad!”

He runs into the other room. Splinter hears him yell, “Mikey! I get a pool for my room!” And then Mikey yell back, “What!? Cool! Can we have a pool party!?”

Splinter sips his tea and smiles, listening to his boys talking like excited children as they look up inflatable pools. It’s the best sound he’s ever heard.

[xfandom-fairyx]

That One Time at Band Camp..

Marching band au

Katsuki Bakugo

Part 3

______________________________________________________________________

My phone alarm blared from beside me on my nightstand, signaling 7am. The August sun was already coming over the horizon, painting the once deep purple sky an intense golden orange.

I dragged myself out of bed, grabbing my toiletry bag from the top of my suitcase on my way to the bathroom. Just as I sat down on the seat, I noticed a fresh towel on the bathroom counter– one that I did not put there. I tried to shrug it off, thinking one of the guys must’ve put one in there for me while I was asleep, which would’ve been weird, but nice?

The doorknob to the door to my right turned, immediately throwing me out of my thoughts, and ruby red eyes caught mine in the wall length mirror behind the sink. My heart dropped to my stomach while I threw my arm out, pushing the eggshell colored door back shut, my entire face red hot as I heard his shrill voice.

“OI, WHAT THE FUCK?! WHY DIDN’T YOU LOCK THE DOOR?!” Katsuki screamed through the thin barrier, embarrassment making his voice crack. I could feel my heart beating in my throat, my mouth dry as a desert when I yelled back a little quieter, “I didn’t know you had a door to my bathroom?!” I didn’t want the rest of the guys to hear this embarrassing moment.

A soft thud and a disbelieving chuckle came from the side he was on.

“It’s a shared bathroom, dumbass. Kirishima was supposed to have your room, but the bastard’s too nice to make you move.” he grunted, the heat in my face and neck only spreading deeper into my chest and shoulders.

“I-I’m sorry. I can still move if it’s a problem, I just assumed– I didn’t know–,” I stammered through my apology, but Katsuki cut me off.

“It’s fine, you don’t have to move. Just make sure you lock the door when you’re using it. Keep this from happening again, yeah?” he reasoned, an exasperated sigh leaving his chest before I heard his footsteps moving away from the door.

Holy fucking shit, what is my life right now? I thought, quickly finishing my morning routine. I left my toothbrush in the holder on the counter, placing my toiletry bag in the cabinet under the sink, turning back to crack open the door to his side, letting him know the bathroom was open before heading back to my room to get changed for the day. My gray ankle cropped leggings and a big black t shirt with an orange X on my left collarbone would have to do.

.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.

Opening the fridge built for a castle only to see it devoid of food made my stomach growl angrily. Of course there won’t be food, no one’s been here in years, I grumbled internally. I made my way over to the couch and plopped down onto the chaise piece, pulling a light throw over my legs and turning on the tv to the local news channel for background noise, a grimace on my face as I scrolled through DoorDash. It was currently 8:03am and I could hear movement upstairs, so I knew the rest of the boys were awake. Hearing footsteps coming down the stairs made my head snap up, hoping to see Katsuki so I could try to apologize again, but was met by Eijiro’s blinding smile. My gaze narrowed to a scowl, making him giggle.

“Someone’s chipper this morning,” he jabbed, coming to rest his arms on the back of the couch. I rolled my eyes, because how is he poking fun at me right now?

“Heard some shouting this morning. Everything okay?” He tried to hide his smirk by biting his bottom lip, but he failed miserably.

“You,” I snipped, “You knew about the shared bathroom, dude, why didn’t you say anything? Why didn’t you have me pick another room?” The question came out hastier than I anticipated, through my teeth at the end of it. All he did was laugh harder, making heat rush to my face.

“How was I supposed to make you move all of your stuff a second time? I just thought you’d figure out the bathroom situation BEFORE you walked in on each other,” he snickered. I scoffed, reaching for a pillow to smack him with it. His laughter was infectious.

“Not cool, man,” I huffed, trying to stifle my own laughter as the pillow hit him in the face after he tried to block it.

“Alright, alright, I’m sorry,” his apology was light, but sincere and he threw the pillow back to its spot on the couch. In the same moment, Sero and Denki stumbled down the stairs, giggling and shoving each other. Eijiro saw them and immediately made his way around the couch to take the spot next to me. The other two spotted us, making their way across the room to sit on the couch with us, Sero plopping down by Eijiro, and Denki laying down on the long section of the couch.

“Hey mamas, you ready for day one of band camp?” Sero spoke up first, drawing my attention away from my phone again. I threw a small smile his way, sensing the pet name wasn’t out of flirting.

“I mean, yeah. I’ve been waiting for this since comps ended last year,” and it was true. I missed band camp and competitions. The rush of performing on a field like that is something I will never get tired of, be it a practice run or the final run.

Sero snorted, “Sure, but are you ready for Aizawa? I’ve heard he’s the hardest to please, like, he’s a total perfectionist,” he said. I grinned wider, the warmth of a challenge enveloping me.

“It just means that by the time we’re doing comps, we’ll be perfect. I want to see that number one place go to us,” my thoughts grew hazy as the daydream of us standing in lines for placement and hearing our band take first place clouded my brain. I didn’t even notice Katsuki had come downstairs until I heard his gruff voice from over my shoulder.

“You’re trying to get food delivered the day we start training? You want to throw up on your first day?” he asked rhetorically, “Come on, let’s go to the store. We need healthy food, not that greasy shit.”

The four of us on the couch collectively groaned, making him laugh as he grabbed the keys to his truck.

.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.

“I can’t believe you ran the cart into the shelf and knocked all of that over,” I cackled, my arms full of groceries. Denki was red in the face, still embarrassed from his fuck up in the middle of the grocery store. Sero had a pretty big bruise forming on his shoulder from trying to catch the shelf as it was falling, but he was still giggling with me as he set his grocery bags on the big island. Denki just groaned, dropping the two big cases of Gatorade onto the dining table before making his way to the couch, falling face first over the back of it, his legs hanging over the headrest.

My stomach growled so loud that Sero and Eijiro both paused to look at me, looks of horror on their faces.

“What? I’m starving,” I whined, pulling food out of the bags and beginning to put the cold stuff away.

“Well grab a banana, I’m about to start making lunch,” Katsuki grumbled from behind me, making his way to stand at the end of the island. The other boys shrugged, grabbing a piece of fruit each and heading downstairs to the game room. I scrunched my nose at his proposal, starting to feel hangry about having to wait for food. Katsuki’s ruby glare was about to burn me alive as I headed downstairs to sit with the guys.

I plopped onto one of the empty beanbags, trying to decipher who was who in the game of Smash Bros they were playing. After 5 minutes I shrugged, pulling my phone out, suddenly remembering the apps I was supposed to download for the house, and putting in the passwords. In order to get Life360 to do it’s job, I needed the boys in my contacts so we could be in a circle.

“Hey guys, I need your numbers for the Life360 app that Kats recommended, can you airdrop me your contact cards? I can give you my number whenever you’re ready,” I coaxed. Denki was the first to pull out his phone, his eyes lit up with excitement.

“Finally getting a girl’s number, guys!” he giggled, his grin goofy and infectious.

“Too bad she’s not gonna be anything more than a roommate, homie,” Sero laughed as the blonde pouted, and Eijiro rolled his eyes, rubbing Denki’s shoulder out of pity.

“Anyways!” I lightened my tone, trying to pass by that awkward moment, “My number is xxx-xxx-xxxx. You guys should be able to airdrop your contact cards and I can get back to making sure everything works,” I sighed out, making my way back upstairs. From the top step, I could tell Katsuki was cooking something in the kitchen, and it smelled so good my mouth started watering. I groaned at the hunger pang in my gut, moving closer to the stove to see what he was cooking. One pan had stir fried veggies, another had some eggs over hard, and there was a rice cooker with the timer just about to go off. I went ahead and started grabbing out bowls and utensils for all of us. Katsuki only turned his head to look at me when the drawer closed too loudly. I gave him a sheepish grin, which he returned with a smirk.

“Eager, are we?” he asked, a teasing lilt to his voice. I tried to look away to hide the flush in my cheeks.

“I appreciate you making lunch, but you don’t have to cook so healthy for us. I’m sure we would’ve been fine with regular sandwiches or tacos or something. I’m sorry we’re not all as fit as you,” I stated, only realizing what I had actually said a moment too late and watched his smirk widen.

“I-I mean–,” he waved a hand to dismiss my explanation, opting to just go back to stirring the vegetables that were still frying on the stove.

“I want my section in top shape. I live with a third of you guys, I gotta do my best to make sure you stay healthy and focused. None of that, ‘I can make it on a protein bar and water,’ shit.” He grumbled, taking the eggs out of my hands and placing them in the fridge. He moved to place something in one of the cabinets, and I planted myself on the island countertop to watch him move throughout the kitchen. I could’ve left to go join the boys again, but all I could think about was how good his back muscles looked in his tight, dark gray shirt, and how it wasn’t doing any favors for the heat pooling in my lower stomach.

.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.

We pulled into the university parking lot at 5:15pm, 45 minutes before we needed to be there, all of us clad in our workout clothes, water bottles in hand, and pre workout powder sitting on the center console. I sat in the passenger seat with one knee up to my chin, looking on in horror as the boys took turns taking a scoop of pre workout and pouring it directly into their mouths.

“Is that really necessary?” I asked, grossed out that they could consume straight powder like that. The look on my face made Denki giggle as he downed his scoop, a small cloud of powder leaving his mouth as he pushed it back.

“It is if we want energy to get through the whole night. First day of PT is gonna be fucking rough.” Sero said between sips of his water. The rest of the guys grunted in agreement, pulling their go bags up from the floorboards and getting out of the truck. Katsuki reached down to the basket he had between the center console and the dash of the truck for our bags, handing me my own bag that he had prepared for me. I took it from his hand with a thankful smile before sliding out of my seat.

We made our way through the parking lot, Eijiro, Sero and Denki all shoving each other around playfully. Walking to the music hall and down to the percussion room, I got chills of excitement, thrilled to be doing my favorite thing in the world once again. My eyes had hearts in them as we entered the room and I spotted the marimbas, vibes and auxiliary equipment that would become an extension of me for this season. I completely missed the way Katsuki’s warm eyes followed me, his brows furrowed as he watched me gingerly run my fingers over the wooden bars of the marimba.

“Y/n! D’ya know anything you could play for us? We wanna see how good you are!” Denki called from across the room, snapping me back to reality. I smirked a bit, a blush covering my cheeks as I reached for the mallets, wracking my brain for a second before I settled on a run I had to do from the technical étude I used to audition for this band. My hands gripped the mallets as I counted myself in, eyes closed, and my hands immediately flying across the bars, playing the beautiful, but fast, major keyed piece.

After 16 bars I paused, opening my eyes to see the other boys’ jaws dropped. Katsuki’s mouth was still closed, but his eyes were widened slightly in surprise. I smiled widely, accepting their shocked reactions as a sign that I was better than they expected.

My moment of glory was cut short as one of the percussion room doors opened, revealing a scrawny man in a white t-shirt and baggy olive green pants, his blonde hair disheveled. Is that–?

“We’re still a few people short, and will be until they can get here in a couple days, so we’re just going to do some warm ups, PT and getting you guys accustomed to your instruments. Sound good?” He asked, his striking blue eyes passing over each face, a chorus of “sure’s” and “yeah’s” coming from the guys, until they landed on me.

“Uncle Toshi?” I asked in disbelief. I hadn’t seen him since I was 12, he had left to go be a drummer for a band who was going on tour and had been so busy that he hardly had time to hang around.

“Is that you, kid? What the hell?” he chuckled, coming the rest of the way into the room and opening his arms for a hug. I rushed the short distance that was between us and into his embrace. The boys behind me were absolutely floored, Katsuki especially. His idol was his new roommate’s uncle? Somebody pinch him. Eijiro walked over to the ash blonde, tossing an elbow into his ribs. Not enough to hurt, but enough to get his attention. Katsuki only shrugged, shaking his head slightly, dazed at the view in front of him.

“Alright, y’n, we can catch up later. Dinner okay?” Uncle Toshi whispered, one of his hands rubbing small circles between my shoulder blades.

“Of course,” I nodded into his chest before pulling away. “Name the time and place, I’ll be there!” I chirped, excited. Uncle Toshi grinned, nodding as he made a mental note to give your dad a call soon. It had simply been way too long.

“As for the rest of you, start moving equipment down to the field, we start PT in 20 minutes. Y/n, I’ll have to have someone help you with everything that’s going down to the field, you don’t need to do any PT until the other girl gets here,” he said, ducking back into the office, a small smile on his face.

.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.

A/N: Working on the next part now! I will continue to try updating every day, but if I don’t update daily, I will absolutely update AT LEAST twice a week. I hope it’s getting better and that y’all are enjoying it!

🤍fae🤍

Tag list: @parchy @d1orhaz3

[sailorsenshishitposter]

Otacon x Reader

Warning

Highly cursed at the halfway point. Spoilers for End of Evangelion and I wouldn't recommend that sane people watch it just to try to understand what the hell is going on. Yes there are parts where people turn into orange liquid followed by screams and upbeat happy music about suicide. Also do not look up the hospital scene for this movie (which it is infamous for). You have been warned.

_______________________________________

Otacon

Your smash main is Snake, you're a weeb or you fall in love easily and are used to being hurt by others.

First Date:

None. This man is busy raising a child with Snake.

Second Try:

The two of you meet on a fan board and quickly exchange numbers. Soon he invites you over to his house for a date. You asked where he lived but he said he would prefer to pick you up. You wait outside until you feel what seems to be an earthquake. You go to run but then you look into the sky. "IS THAT A GIANT ROBOT!" The "vehicle" pulls up and sure enough, Otacon is waiting for you. "Good evening. You look wonderful..." He then handed you a bouquet of flowers and you came inside.

Man, he really was an otaku. His home consisted of a bedroom that was really more like a storage space, a bathroom and a kitchen. "Make yourself comfortable, I'm going to bring some refreshments." You looked around for a spot to sit down, his room being like that one photo of Yoshihiro Togashi but notably much cleaner. The walls were stacked from the floor to the ceiling. You would have to tell your date that piracy was also an option. Most of it was just anime so you knew better than to touch it.

There was a small CRT and just about every console you could think of. Even the bad ones.At the far end of the room was a computer. You didn't really understand how that stuff worked but you figured his setup must be very expensive since all you had was Windows 95. You saw a purple creature on the desktop. "What's a bonzi buddy?

"You then noticed that Hal had come back. "I brought you a bento and some pocky. Only the best for my little waifu." He then blushed and turned the television off. "Sorry. I forgot that I was playing Policenauts on my Saturn earlier.."He then asked Alexa to play his spotify playlist which consisted of nothing but Hatsune Miku.

After you were finished eating, he took you by the hand. "Allow you to show you my prized collection." He brought you to his glass stand filled with various figures. It had a little bit of everything. Transformers, all the Gundams, some Code Geass. Even this weird one he called Zone of the Enders? "Yeah, I'm a huge fan!" He then looked around to see if the almighty Mr. Kojima was watching."

But this... This is my favorite." It was a giant build of EVA 01. "I never knew you liked Evangelion..." He then pulled out a copy of End of Evangelion. "Would you like to watch it with me? I have the renewal edition..." You gazed into his eyes and kissed him. "Wow..." He then turned on his hello kitty DVD player and inserted the disc.

The two of you started frenching during the komm susser tod sequence. You began to stroke him while the lyrics "It all returns to nothing" played. "Looks like someone's snake is solid..." He then thought to himself while the screams of those being turned into orange juice could be heard. "It's just like one of my Japanese amines!" You gave one final pull, yelling "It all CUMS TUMBLING DOWN, TUMBLING DOWN, TUMBLING DOWN"

________

Having finished, Hal shut off his VR machine. Ever since David had left him to go on a date with a woman, he hadn't felt the same. He thought back to when he asked him if love could bloom on the battlefield and then started to sob into his arm. "WHY DOES EVERYONE I LOVE LEAVE ME!?" Little did Snake know but Otacon had created a program where he could be with him in a dating sim. He would later sell it on steam and become as rich as Snake did from the fortnite cameo, bringing him into the spotlight. They would later get back together and become the ultimate power couple.

[prick-up-ur-ears]

You ask for imodna prompts you shall receive.

Imodna at a pride parade perhaps 🤭

thanks for the prompt! this one was a lot of fun

also on AO3

----

“How do you make it look so easy?” 

Imogen glares at Laudna’s reflection in the mirror. They both are leaning over the counter of their shared bathroom, each with a small makeup brush in hand. Laudna finishes a blue stripe, then stands upright and meets Imogen’s gaze in the mirror.

Imogen's eyes flick back to her own reflection, mentally comparing the perfect rectangle of pink, purple, and blue on Laudna’s cheek to the mess of pink and orange on her own.

“You’re using too much, darling,” Laudna says as a droplet of the white face paint drips down Imogen’s cheek, clinging to her jaw. Imogen sighs and reaches for the hand towel that’s already stained with her previous attempts that went just about as well as this one. “Would you like me to do yours?”

Imogen would be lying if she said that wasn’t what she had been wanting to ask this entire time. She nods.

“Alright, come here then.” Laudna leans forward and tugs on Imogen’s hand, pulling her to stand directly in front of her. 

Laudna’s gaze moves from Imogen to the counter, eyes scanning for whatever she is looking for, and she grabs a pack of makeup wipes and the paints Imogen was using.

“Can you turn your head, darling?” Laudna requests, accompanied by a gentle nudge on Imogen’s jaw. Imogen obliges. 

The cloth is cold as it wipes away the smudged remnants of the paint, followed by the rougher texture of the towel to dry her skin. Then there’s a hand cradling the side of her face, a thumb at her jaw and fingers just grazing her ear.

The brush tickles at her cheek as Laudna works her magic. Imogen’s not sure what to do with her hands as she stands there, going between fidgeting with the hem of her tank top and tapping at her shorts. After a minute, she feels her phone vibrate in her back pocket and pulls it out. 

What’s taking you guys so long?

“Ashton is gettin’ impatient,” Imogen says to the wall.

“No talking, you’re going to mess it up.”

Imogen has to swallow the “sorry” that automatically rises in her throat. She also has to fight back a smile when Laudna starts softly humming, a tune that sounds oddly similar to a song Imogen recently made her listen to.

“Alright, all done,” Laudna says half a minute later, releasing her grip on the side of Imogen’s face. “What do you think?”

Imogen turns to look in the mirror. On her cheek is a small heart, filled with stripes of pink, orange, and white. Her reflection smiles back at her.

“I love it,” she says, leaning up on her tiptoes to place a quick kiss on Laudna’s mouth before stepping around her into their bedroom.

“Is that all the thanks I get? I made it even nicer than mine,” Laudna pouts.

“I would not put it past Ashton to leave without us, so I think it’s in our best interests to get a move on,” Imogen replies, looking for her fanny pack that she could have sworn she left on top of the dresser. (She didn’t). 

As if on cue, Laudna’s phone chimes with a text message. “If you two make us late because you couldn’t keep it in your pants,” Laudna reads off, “then I will–. Oh. I’m not going to read the rest aloud. You’re right, we should go.”

“Do you know where my bag is?” Imogen asks, her search now taking her to the living room, lifting pillows and blankets off the couch, crouching down to look under the table. 

“Right here, darling.” Laudna emerges from their room, bag in hand. 

“What would I do without you?” Imogen says as she takes it and loops it around her shoulder, stealing another kiss as she does.

“Based on the last five minutes, I’m not sure you would survive at all.” 

Imogen scoffs and gently shoves her in the shoulder. She’s saved from having to make a comeback (because even though she’s joking, Laudna is right) when another ding comes from Laudna’s phone.

“We really should go,” Laudna says without bothering to take her phone out to read the message.

“Ashton’s just upset they have to be the fifth wheel since Fearne is out of town,” Imogen counters, looping her arms around Laudna’s neck and fiddling with the yarn that’s tied at the base of it. “They can wait.”

Several minutes later, the two of them emerge from the front door of their apartment building to find Ashton leaning against their car with their arms crossed. They level the two of them with a glare, but Imogen can’t find it in herself to feel apologetic.

“Nice lipstick, Imogen. Did you borrow it from Laudna?” Ashton says as they approach, an eyebrow raised. Imogen stops, touches a finger to her lips. She didn’t put on any lipstick. 

“Sorry, darling,” Laudna says, reaching into her purse and pulling out a makeup wipe that she hands to Imogen.

“I should have left without you,” Ashton grumbles, shaking their head and pushing off the car to stand upright. 

“Oh, please, you love us,” Imogen says.

“Just get in the damn car,” Ashton calls as they walk around to the driver’s side. “Orym and Dorian are probably already there waiting for us.”

“Those punctual motherfuckers.”

Imogen hops in the backseat while Laudna takes shotgun, Ashton sliding into the driver’s seat. Imogen scoots into the middle, leaning forward with her elbows propped on both front seats. “We’re not even runnin’ that late,” she comments after a glance at the clock. 

“Have you ever tried finding parking in downtown Jrusar on an event day? Oh, that’s right, you don’t have a car.”

Imogen leans further over the middle console. “How long until Fearne is back?”

“Too long.”

—

To say the streets of Jrusar are crowded would be an understatement. Imogen doesn’t think she’s ever seen this many people out and about in Jrusar before, but it’s a spectacular sight. 

It’s also slightly overwhelming.

Are you sure this is okay? We can go home whenever you want, just say the word.

Imogen smiles down at the text from Laudna as Ashton drives around in search of a parking spot. Honestly, she’s not sure how she’ll feel once they go out into the crowd. But she’s been making progress, so she’s willing to try. 

I’m alright. Promise to let you know if that changes.

It doesn’t take much longer to find a parking spot. Once they’re out on the sidewalk, Laudna takes Imogen’s hand in hers, interlacing their fingers. Imogen focuses on the feeling of Laudna’s hand, letting it ground her, as they approach the more crowded streets.

“Orym said they’re right by the Spire by Fire,” Ashton tells them, putting his phone away.

An unfamiliar feeling flows through Imogen as they weave through the crowded sidewalk towards the tavern. Usually, in crowds, she gets overcome with the feeling that everyone’s eyes are on her, watching her, judging her, berating her. In this crowd, she still gets the feeling that people are looking at her. Just… not in a bad way.

Unsure what else to do with this feeling, she looks up at Laudna and squeezes her hand. Once their eyes meet, Imogen can’t help the wide grin that spreads across her face. “I love you,” she mouths.

Laudna’s eyes soften, looking into Imogen’s like she’s the only thing in the world that matters. “I love you,” she mouths back.

“Will you lovebirds stop eye fucking each other and look for Orym, please?” Ashton calls from behind them. Oops.

“Sorry,” they both mumble, looking away from each other and towards the crowd.

It’s Laudna who spots them first, exactly where they said they’d be in front of the Spire by Fire. 

“I was starting to think you guys wouldn’t make it in time!” Dorian says, wrapping Laudna in a hug. 

“Blame these two,” Ashton grumbles as it’s Imogen’s turn to be embraced by Dorian.

“Oh, I’m sure,” Orym laughs. “I’ve started lying to them about when things start so that they’ll get there on time.”

And, well. Maybe they have been getting carried away lately. 

Loud music starts playing in the distance, marking the beginning of the parade. “Oh! Here, I almost forgot,” Dorian exclaims, pulling around his backpack and taking out three rainbow flags and handing them out. “Someone was handing these out earlier.”

“Well, thank you, Dorian,” Laudna says, waving hers back and forth. Imogen can’t help but smile at the sight. 

They start looking for a less crowded spot that’s near the barricade, and Laudna touches Imogen’s elbow, pulling them back from the group. “Good?” she whispers. 

Imogen is no stranger to lying about how she’s feeling, especially in circumstances like this. 

“Better than good. There isn’t anywhere else I’d rather be right now.”

And it’s not even a lie.

[gamerbearmira]

Diamond Mirabel au

Mirabel’s room & gift info: 

Ok so first things first, Mirabel can make diamonds, glass, geodes, gems, jewels, crystals, gold & pearls. 

Her room has all types of books that are written about diamonds, glass, geodes, gems, jewels, pearls, & crystals. Some are spiritual based and some are based on, obviously, different kinds. 

She also has books on all the different types of jewelry she can make, fashion wise.

Yes, all of the things listed are extremely rare in encanto so her gift is in high demand. 

Mirabel also discovered that she can make crystal/diamond/glass roses or flowers. So she can technically do what Isabela does, just differently. 

You want gold earrings? got it. You want a crystal crown? Got it. You want comfortable glass slippers like cinderella? Got it. You want a diamond ring? Got it. You want a personalized gold brush & mirror set? Got it. Any sort of antique vanity set? Got it. 

I do think diamond rings would kick off when some men or women would ask her for a diamond ring for wedding purposes. They would say something along the lines of “I want her/him/them to know she/he’s/their as special as a diamond” or something like that. 

She can also make different types of perfume bottles but that takes a little longer seeing as she has to draw them out before she can make them appear, same with crowns. 

So this is technically what I vision for her room; The “Mansion” Entrance

The room in front of the stairs is the jewelry room and the upper room behind the chandelier is Mirabel’s room. Next to that room (right side of the chandelier) is Antonio’s room, he can sleep there whenever he wants. Next to his room is Camilo’s, he and Mira are besties in this au because I said so. On the left of Mirabel’s room is Luisa's, she can come in whenever she wants. 

Her room is technically a house within a house. 

But let me make this clear, the entrance is NOT pink, it’s anything along the blue family spectrum. 

Her room is a mishmosh of the colors in her family. The walls are mostly blue but since the walls are also diamond they sometimes show off different colors such as green, yellow, purple, orange, red, etc. 

Inside the Jewelry room;

Instead of chairs and seats, imagine a more jewelry store look to it. If that makes sense. 

The stuff hanging off the walls are pearls and small crystals. On the left side and right side are necklaces, rings, earrings, bracelets, & chokers on display in glass cases. On the farther end in the middle are where crowns and glass shoes are sold. 

If you want anything in particular from her you're gonna have to leave a note in the notebox by the Jewelry store door or speak to her upfront. Either way you have to write down what you want because she has many requests. 

Her “mansion” also kind of serves as a mood ring almost, when she’s upset the mansion will be red, when she’s sad her room is a deep dark blue, when she's happy her room is a more brighter/pastel blue-ish color. 

But for some reason she never notices unless someone points it out. 

Also, as a villager, you don’t get to demand what you want and expect her to give it to you right then and there. She’s gonna hurt your feelings and toss you out. 

“Who do I look like, Isabela? Get out of my room AND my house AND casita” 

And her parents will make it clear that you will not step foot into the madrigal house again, you’ll be lucky if you get an arepa if you're hurt. 

Also, no one has a say over her gift. Mira works when she wants. Her gift isn’t that taxing, Pedro made sure of that, but if she’s tired, she’s not gonna work. Plain and simple.

Forgot to mention, nothing she creates that seems fragile isn’t fragile at all. Anything she makes will last for a very long time. 

Her bathroom:

and lastly. her bedroom:

just think of her bed in the middle of all the crystals, with pearls and diamonds dangling down above her. I was going to add a dining room, but she eats downstairs in casita with everybody else. 

And yes, she still does sew and plans on opening her own jewelry & boutique store when she’s old enough to.

in the next lil tidbit I'll talk about her relationship with the family, mainly her and Isabela.

Bye I was so confused until I read further. I da was like “that’s an apartment ⁉️”. But anyway. So rad. Very big room, almost too big. Like idfk feel scared asf 💀 but she’s not always alone, so that works too. Shoutout to Camilo for being friends. I also love au’s where they’re also best friends. They’re so cool. Also Luisa and Antonio being her biggest support RAHHHHHHH 🦅🦅🦅

He thinks it’s the funniest thing to say “It smells like poor in here.”

[loud-sturniolos]

“Stop kissing boys in the street.”

Nicolas Sturniolo x Male!reader

Summary: Y/N and Nick get caught kissing, leading to his homophobic father finding out and Y/N having to move in with Nick and his brothers.

Warnings: slight angst, homophobia(reader has homophobic parents), homophobic slurs used, aggressive arguing, kissing, slightly suggestive, fluff, toxic parents, switching POV, use of Y/N, not proof read!

A/N: I’m currently struggling to write, I have like no ideas at all😞 Please give me requests or smth🙏. Might do a part 2 of when reader is living with the triplets if y’all like this😘

Y/N: green

Nick: Purple

Chris: orange

Matt: Blue

Y/Ns father: pink

Third person POV::

1:02pm

Y/N was currently on a date day with Nick, his secret boyfriend, they had already been to a book shop, and had lunch at a café, and walked around town for a while. Now Y/N was just waiting for Nick to get back from the bathroom so he could drive him home.

Y/N heard the sound of footsteps approaching and looked up, a smile spreading across his face when he sees Nick approaching. He stands up, sliding his phone into the back pocket of his blue Fresh Love sweats.

“Hi, baby,” he said softly, kissing Nicks forehead as his arms wrap around the smaller boys waist. “Ready to go home?” “No, I’m comfy now.” Nick mumbled, nuzzling into Y/Ns chest as his arms loop around his neck. Y/N lets out an amused chuckle, gently lifting Nicks chin to look at him, then pressing his lips to Nicks in a sweet tender kiss. “We can hang out tomorrow, promise.”

Y/Ns POV::

2:57PM

I had just arrived home after an amazing day with my boyfriend, I step into my parents house, slipping my muddy shoes off at the door. I pause as the sound of my mothers crying engulfs my ears, taking a moment to process I wasn’t just hearing things, before quickly walking into the kitchen. “Mom? Whats wrong?” I ask in a worried tone, pausing at the doorway of the kitchen to see my mother crying at the table, and my dad stood next to her, a furious look on his face.

As soon as he sees me, he storms up to me and grabs my collar, shoving me against the wall. “What is wrong with you? Do you think it’s cool or something? How am I meant to respond when my friends tell me my son is kissing boys in the street?!” He yells in my face, the colour drains from my face, one of his friends saw and snitched?!

Before I could get a word out, my fathers next words shocked me, leaving me silenced in a mix of sadness, anger, and pure hatred.

“Until you stop this gay nonsense, you’re not living with us. I don’t want a f^ggot for a son.”

I stare at him blankly, before shoving him out the way and storming up the stairs, grabbing my backpack and stuffing a few random hoodies, t-shirts, jackets and throwing on some random comfy slides then grabbing my car keys and storming out the house.

Chris’s POV::

4:36PM

I had woken up about an hour ago, possibly 2, when Nick got home. We didn’t get a chance to talk to Y/N, but we didn’t really mind, we’d be seeing him another time.

I was in the kitchen with Matt, Nick was in his room editing, when there was a knock at the door, I glance at my brother. “We don’t have anybody coming over?” “Maybe Nick ordered food or something.” Matt mumbled back with a shrug, too focused on his phone to care.

I scoff and roll my eyes, setting my phone on the counter I make my way towards the door, unlocking it and opening it I’m shocked to see Y/N, cheeks stained with tears and a clearly overfull bag in his hand.

“What the fuck? What’s wrong, dude?” I ask in a worried tone, stepping to the side to let the boy in. “My dad found out.” Was all I got in response before he kicked off his shoes and started walking through the house towards Nicks room.

Matts POV::

I looked up to see Y/N, my eyes widen as I see the tears streaming down his cheeks that he’s aggressively trying to wipe away with his fists.

I quickly make my way in front of him, ignoring his anger I cup his face and gently wipe his tears,   simultaneously nodding at Chris to get Nick from his bedroom, which he is quick to do.

“What’s wrong, bud? What happened?” I ask in a quiet calm tone, rubbing Y/Ns back to try calm him down. “I don’t want to talk about it, I’m here for Nick.” he said, trying to push past me towards Nicks bedroom. I gently grab his wrist and lead him towards the sofa, making him sit down. “Nick will be here in a moment, you want some drink? A snack?” “no.”

Third person POV

Nick came out his bedroom with Chris, telling Chris and Matt to go to their rooms before quickly making his way to Y/N in the living room.

“What’s wrong?” Nick asked the crying boy gently, sitting next to him and placing a comforting hand on his thigh. “My dad found out I’m gay, one of his stupid friends saw us kissing and snitched.. then he kicked me out because he doesn’t want a gay son.” Nick went silent, not expecting that at all. He quickly regains composure and leans over to kiss Y/Ns salty tears off his cheeks. “You can live with us for as long as you want..” Nick replied, not exactly knowing how to respond to the situation. Y/N stays silent, wrapping his arms around Nicks waist and burying his face into the crook of his neck before mumbling a quiet “thanks..” “Matt and Chris are out all day tomorrow, it’ll just be us.” Nick whispers teasingly with a smirk before quickly and casually walking away back to his bedroom, leaving Y/N sat stunned on the sofa with a blush spreading across his cheeks.

[tryskomys]

Wet Sand

Stone Gossard x OC

Chapter 8 - Over My Head

Summary: that would be a shame.

masterlist

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫

notes: didn’t expect to finish another chapter this week, yay! i hate hate hate describing outfits, it always feels so wattpad. but hey, hopefully it’s digestable. this one somehow feels short - still, it’s 4,1k but you know, sometimes it just has this vibe. hope you like it anyway <3

tws: none this time, just lead-heavy tension and a bit of clumsy fluff.

songs:

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫

22.4.1988

Keys rattled in the main door and Stone hurried in, his grown-out hair slightly sticking to his forehead. Keeva peeked out of the curtain in front of her room, holding an eyeliner pencil.

“Okay, this is the only brown colour they had, but I think it’ll do,” he called over his shoulder, waving to call her downstairs.

“Perfect! I asked your mom for a hair dryer, it’s in the bathroom,” she said and gathered her makeup. She hopped down, trying to shake the nervous chills off when he turned around and looked at her.

Xana worked in a little vintage clothes shop and when Keeva mentioned that she didn’t own a dress, she rummaged through the depths of the shelves and gave her one with a huge sale. She even altered the seemingly shapeless drape of dark purple linen into a cute sundress.

She wanted Keeva to have a fancy look for the first official Mother Love Bone concert - Andy came up with the name and no one had the slightest idea what it meant, but it was perfectly weird and off-the-wall, just like his lyrics.

Keeva felt so uneasy. She hadn’t worn a dress since fifth-grade prom and Xana didn’t exactly leave much to imagination.

The thin straps were really too much for her, so she put on a baggy checkered shirt she stole from Stone’s drawer and decided to wear the dress on top of it.

The dress was too short as well, but she managed to make herself feel a bit better with some bike shorts she found at the bottom of her suitcase and thick woollen socks.

She was dreading Stone’s reaction, expecting him to either laugh at her or at least tease her heart out of her throat for being scared to wear a skirt.

She could already hear his nagging nasal voice in her head.

‘Awooga! Look who’s here, the Virgin Mary herself. What are the shorts for, Baby? Afraid to show an inch of your thigh?’

It was very refreshing when he just looked Keeva up and down and quickly turned back around without a word, digging around the CVS bag he brought with him. She softly sighed, trying to shoo the uncomfortable thoughts out of her brain.

Wow. Great. Gee thanks, that was such a nice thing to say, Stoney. You’re so sweet.

“Lookit,” Stone said after clearing his throat and handed her a box of brown hair dye. “You think it’s fine?”

“Yeah, that looks about right,” Keeva nodded and reached up to compare the photo of the brunette woman on the packaging with Stone’s roots. “Yup. Well, bathroom, off you go. I’ll be there in a sec.”

On cue, he ran his hand through his hair and walked away, unusually sheepish. She shook her head and quickly finished the eyeliner, her fingers jittery.

Jesus, is it that bad? Should I change?

Keeva threw the pencil away on his bed with slightly too much strength before following him to the bathroom. Stone was sitting on the cold tiled floor, picking on his nails. She started unpacking the box dye while carefully watching him rub his fingers together.

“You want the roots too or just the grown-out part?” she questioned, skimming over the instructions.

“Just the orange bit,” he took a fleeting look at her legs and quickly focused back on his hands.

“Calm down,” she softly mumbled, making him frown.

“I am calm.”

Stone’s fidgets were a clear indicator that he was, in fact, not calm.

They played a few house parties over the last two months, but this was different.

A proper show at The OK Hotel.

“When was your last gig?” Keeva ignored his irritated tone as she put the rubber gloves on and vigorously shook the plastic bottle of liquid to mix it with the dye powder.

“October,” Stone muttered and put his index finger to his mouth to chew on it. “You?”

“May,” she answered, softly tutting to make him stop. He just threw her an annoyed look and continued to bite on his hangnails.

As Keeva hovered above him with the dye bottle, Stone laid his hands in his lap and closed his eyes as if he was bracing for some sort of impact.

“You ready?” she sweetly scratched his head and he visibly relaxed, humming in agreement. “Good boy.”

That made Stone snicker and he reached out to pinch her calf. She squealed and gave him a little kick before proceeding to squeeze a bit of dye in his hair and smearing it in.

After a few moments of anxious silence, it was as if a switch flipped in him and he straightened his back with a big sigh, levelling his head with her stomach. Then, he rested his forehead on her hip bone. Keeva shivered.

Don’t do this to me.

“Careful, you’ll ruin my fancy dress,” she near-whispered and took a tiny step back, but he just chuckled, his breath tickling her thigh.

“That would be a shame,” Stone mumbled and lifted his head with an absent gaze. He raised his hand to softly tug at the rim of her skirt. “It’s nice.”

A painful rush of red filled Keeva’s cheeks as he slowly ran the tip of his index finger up her thigh and under her skirt. A freezing jolt of chills ran down her spine and she twitched - accidentally sending her knee forward. She softly kicked Stone in the chest, but he didn’t seem too bothered, tutting.

“Ow,” he lazily deadpanned and finally shuffled further away from her. She let out the breath she didn’t know she was holding.

What the fuck is your problem, beanpole?

Keeva couldn’t decide if the silence was awkward or not, but it was nerve-wracking either way.

“You’re still breathing on my leg,” she said as she rubbed the dye between her fingers, working it into a strand of Stone’s hair. He hummed.

“I am.”

“It tickles.”

“Tough shit,” he scoffed and softly blew on her skin. She kicked him again, this time on purpose. Stone grabbed her leg mid-air and started tickling her knee.

“Stop!” she yelped and and tried to step back. “I have your precious hair in my hands, asshole, don’t test me!”

They yanked each other back and forth for a few moments before Stone finally let go of her leg with a loud hiss.

“Ow! Okay, yield, yield, Jesus!”

Keeva stopped pulling his hair, too, giggling.

“The longer you distract me, the longer it will take and we have to leave in two hours. So if you want to go out there with ammonia mud in your hair, go ahead,” she spewed, nudging him with her foot. Stone wolf-whistled.

“I’m distracting you? You sweet talker,” he chuckled.

“Yeah, your pants are too tight,” she gave him a sarcastic smile and he - slightly panicked - quickly looked down at his jeans, then back at her.

“Your dress is too short,” he mirrored Keeva’s smile and watched her get red in the face again, clearly entertained.

Yeah, thanks for the honesty, mate.

Encouraging as always.

“I know it is,” she muttered under her breath and then took a long pause. “You think I should change?”

Her voice came out much more insecure than she planned. Stone tilted his head and Keeva was surprised that he seemed so puzzled.

“Of course not,” he frowned as if it was the most obvious answer under the sun.

“What’s ‘of course’ about that? It’s short and I’m short and my knees are scabby and I have bruises all over my legs and -”

“You look amazing, shut up,” he said matter-of-factly. Keeva raised her eyebrows.

That almost sounded like a Stone compliment.

“You shut up,” she shook her head with a bashful grin and hurried to break the eye contact. She pretended to squint at whatever she was doing. Whenever Stone’s hair was wet or tied back in any way, his stare somehow managed to be even more overwhelming.

“Thanks,” she silently added and quickly tried to change the subject. “What are you wearing, anyway?”

“Nothing this cute, let me tell you that much,” Stone started poking her knee again and she gave him an annoyed frown.

Yup. Here comes the mocking.

“Sorry,” he chuckled and raised his arms in surrender. “Uh, I don’t know. Probably a Green River t-shirt, that seems like a nice touch of irony.

Keeva snorted.

“No, you will not.”

“Watch me,” he shrugged. “I think I’ll take the Scumbag cowboy hat, too.”

“Oh, good grief,” she whined, holding back a laugh.

“Here we go! This is the shit,” Andy exclaimed and reached into one of the large bags of clothes in front of him. He fished out a felt cowboy hat with a few huge feathers sticking out from behind the rim. Stone started laughing, immediately grabbed it and put it on.

“Jesus Christ,” Keeva stuttered out and slapped her forehead. Andy and Regan clapped.

“Oh, you have to,” Regan cackled, whistling when Stone batted his eyelashes.

“It looks so fucking good with the whiskers, you’d be drowning in pussy if you wore this every day,” Andy giggled and kept on digging in the bag.

“Ew, don’t encourage him! I live in the same room,” she complained and started searching through one of the bags as well.

“Shut up, Baby, you’re just jealous that you don’t have a cool hat,” Stone grinned as he took it off, studying the feathers closer. She hooted.

“Oh, but I do,” she said and pulled out a big satin top hat. They all gasped.

“Put it on! Put it on!” Regan chanted and loudly wolf-whistled when she did. It was slightly big for her, but she felt amazing. It felt like armour.

“Are we playing any T. Rex today?” she giggled, looking up at the rim of the top hat with childlike delight. Stone giggled.

“Well, now we are!”

“Yay! Thus, Tom and Jerry’s Scumbag Jukebox was born,” Andy announced and clapped, clearly overjoyed.

Stone and Keeva exchanged a look and after a few seconds of silence, they both burst out in giggles - and they continued to do so until they were both on the floor, tangled into each other as they cramped through a fit of laughter.

“If you wear your Scumbag hat, I’ll wear my Scumbag hat,” she warned and wiggled her finger at him after putting a plastic shower cap on his stained hair. “Done.”

“Please, wear your Scumbag hat. That will be, like, a crown to this outfit,” Stone chuckled and tugged on her skirt one more time before getting up. Keeva narrowed her eyes at him.

Great. Great for my confidence.

“What now?” he added, taking a look in the shabby little mirror above the sink.

“Thirty minutes and wash it off,” she said and took her rubber gloves off. “But honestly we could keep it like this, too. The slicked-back look really makes your eyes pop.”

Stone looked at her and slowly widened his eyes while extending his arms, creeping closer to her. She squealed and started running out of the bathroom - however, he caught up with her in two brisk steps. He grabbed Keeva from behind with a theatrical growl, lifted her off her feet and started spinning in a circle.

“No, put me down! Careful with the dress!” she screeched through laughter, frantically slapping his forearms. Stone cackled and squeezed his arms around her waist.

“Would be a shame, wouldn’t it? Haha!”

“Yes, it would, put me down!”

“Say you look great and I’ll release you from my clutches,” he squeezed tighter and started spinning faster.

“Let me go!”

“Say ‘I look great!’” he mocked her accent with a high-pitched voice.

“Stop, I’m gonna be sick, Stoney!”

“Say it!”

“Okay, I look great!” she yelped and Stone finally stopped spinning, but still didn’t put her back on her feet.

“See? Wasn’t that hard,” he hummed, shaking Keeva from side to side. He squeezed her one more time in a tight hug and then set her back on the ground, planted a quick kiss on her burning cheek and hopped away to his clothes drawer with a cocky grin.

● ● ● ● ● ●

“Ow! Son of a bitch!” Stone’s yelp echoed from the bathroom, followed by a fierce kick into the lousy cupboard under the sink.

“Calm your tits, I’m not fixing the door again,” Keeva chuckled and walked in to see what’s going on.

Stone had washed the dye off and blow-dried his hair, now attempting to detangle a scrunchie out of his ponytail. It was a bit dehydrated from the dye, so it easily matted into a big messy knot.

The darker hair looked amazing. It definitely gave him a certain air of maturity, a thought that made Keeva laugh as she watched his childish frown.

He was redoing the ponytail for the fourth time. She had no clue why, it looked the same as always, but Stone just wasn’t satisfied with it. Now, he was just aggressively pulling while grunting in frustration.

“Jesus, how did you manage to do this?” Keeva squinted, stepping on her tiptoes. She tugged on his kaleidoscope vest to take a closer look.

Stone was already in his chosen gig outfit - he really did put on a Green River t-shirt and she could do nothing as he threatened to spin her around again if she didn’t stop nagging.

“I don’t fucking know, I’ve been standing here for, like, half an hour and I can’t get…this…fucking…thing…out. Ouch!” he squealed again when Keeva tried to help him.

“I can’t see shit in this lighting, move,” she mumbled and grabbed the hairbrush he was holding. She dragged Stone out of the door by the wrist like a little kid.

“You’ll be bald by thirty if you keep fucking with it like that,” she said as she tugged him down on the floor with her. “Sit.”

“I’m not a dog, asshole,” Stone muttered back but did as she said and crossed his legs. He hissed when Keeva pulled him by the tangled mess so he’d shuffle closer to her.

“Yeah, dogs don’t yap as much. Stop bitching and stay put,” she retorted and slapped his hand away when he tried to rip on his hair again.

Now softer, Keeva pulled a little so he’d tilt his head back, giving her a better look at where the knots were.

“Good grief. Why did you redo it, anyway? It looked great on the first try,” she tutted and started carefully untangling the mess strand by strand. Stone finally seemed to calm down a bit.

“It was uneven and it looked like shit, so I tried to make it straight, but I loosened it too much. So I untied it and did it again and that was off, too.”

“Ehm ehm, Narcissus,” she teased, giggling when Stone reached behind him to pinch her thigh.

He hissed in pain when she accidentally ripped a lone hair out in an attempt to wiggle it out of the scrunchie.

“Fuck. Sorry, Stoney, sorry,” she whispered, cringing at his pained grunt. “Stop wiggling.”

“It’s just at this weird length where I can’t put it up without having a bunch of little hairs sticking out like a muppet and it’s bothering the fuck out of me and now it looks even worse when it’s not bleached,” he rambled and waved his arms around, which caused another few accidental rips. “Maybe I should shave it off.”

“Yeah, over my dead body, mate.” Keeva scoffed and quickly checked her watch. They still had a solid hour before Bruce was supposed to pick them up for the soundcheck.

“What, you think I couldn’t pull it off?” Stone asked with a grin, finally easing under her hands.

She couldn’t stop her vivid imagination from carrying her away.

She pictured him with a buzz cut, which made his strange features even stronger - the Roman nose seemed longer, the cheekbones and jawline sharper, and the freckles more noticeable.

And the eyes. Oh, the eyes. She definitely couldn’t take any more of that.

The glistening sweat on his temples and cheeks without any hair obscuring his flushed face made her heartbeat far too quick for her liking, snapping her out of her thoughts.

She shook her head when the fading image of an older Stone - with a shaved head and an unshaved face - smirked.

Keeva successfully detangled the last strand and theatrically threw the scrunchie across the room, then gave Stone a brief playful scratch and took the hairbrush.

No way I’m allowing that. Keep it ‘til you’re old enough to be hot.

“I mean, sure you could. But you seem to be -” she raised an eyebrow at Stone’s perfectly timed heavy sigh, “- enjoying yourself just the way it is. Maybe we could make a deal…let’s see. If we ever play, like, a really big festival, then you can shave your head.”

As soon as the brush touched Stone’s scalp, he leaned his head back and his eyes fluttered closed.

“What’s a really big festival? How many people are we talking?” he said with a growing smile.

“Not in terms of people, just…you know, the feeling,” she shrugged.

Stone chuckled.

“Deal.”

After all the knots were gone, Keeva neatly brushed half of his hair up, took the thin blue scrunchie on her wrist and softly tied it into a high ponytail.

She noticed that he tilted further and further back under her fingers, slowly resting his body against her chest. By the time she was done, Stone’s head was lying on her shoulder as he silently hummed an unintelligible tune with his eyes closed.

Keeva had never seen him so peaceful before. So innocent. A whiplash-inducing contrast to his prickly attitude from earlier.

How very you.

“Hey, don’t fall asleep on me now, you’ll mess up my masterpiece,” she softly nudged Stone, but he didn’t budge.

“There’s a knot right under my ear and it’s really pulling, maybe you should give it another brush,” he mumbled, not moving an inch. Keeva chuckled again and decided to entertain his jabs.

She put the hairbrush away and ran her fingers through the loose waves. Stone sighed again.

“Still pulling.”

She briefly brushed her knuckle against his artery while reaching up. She could swear she felt his heartbeat fasten. There were no knots left, but Stone’s eyelashes fluttered every time she touched his scalp and that was enough to make her play along.

“Pulling,” he lazily muttered, egging Keeva on to continue.

“Oh, wait, I think there’s a tangle right here,” she whispered and reached to the other side of his head, running her fingers through the brown strands behind his ear.

A chuckle rumbled in his chest, followed by a deep sigh.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he breathed out.

A rush of blood inflamed her face and she snapped out of the dreamy limbo she was floating in.

Stone was lying in her lap, resting his forehead on the nape of her neck. When he spoke, his nose brushed against her clavicle and his shivering exhale tickled her skin.

“Fuck, I wouldn’t shave it if they paid me.”

Keeva couldn’t stop herself from caressing him again. She knew that she was just adding new knots by brushing through the hair over and over, but he didn’t seem to mind.

On the contrary, Stone’s ears were growing warm and red and so were his freckled cheeks, forming a burning patchy blush to match hers.

She was too busy studying his peaceful features to realize that she rested her arms around his neck in a loose embrace.

“You’re a witch, you know that?” he mumbled after a few minutes of silence, finally opening his eyes. Up until that point, she thought that he’d actually fallen asleep.

However, Stone seemed completely lucid when he darted across Keeva’s face with curiosity, as if she were a compelling book. His eyebrows slowly knitted into a soft frown when he stopped at her lips.

“What time is it?” he suddenly asked before she could speak, completely glossing over the previous comment. Keeva blinked a few times, still digesting his scrutinizing stare.

“Uh, half past four. We still have, like, a bit over an hour -”

“Cool,” Stone interrupted her and abruptly snaked out of her arms, stood up and skipped over to the bathroom in long hops.

“Thanks, Baby. I dub thee my official hairstylist from now on, looks fine,” he called after her. Keeva still sat in stunned silence, giving her cheeks a few slaps to drag herself out of the haze.

“Wait, like I’m forever stuck untangling your knotty scrunchies like you’re a little girl? Braiding your pigtails?”

“Better leave it up to you, then it will be your fault if I’m bald at thirty,” Stone peeked out of the door and stuck his tongue out at her.

“And pray tell, what do I get out of it?” she crossed her arms and squinted at him. He shrugged.

“You get to play with my luscious locks, of course.”

Keeva raised her eyebrows.

“You just said you look like a muppet, but fair. You know what that means though, right?”

“Hm?” he frowned.

“You have my hair tie. You’re branded as my property now.”

“Backhanded flirting doesn’t work on me and you know it, sweetheart,” Stone shot back a bit too casually for her ego’s liking and disappeared back into the bathroom. “I’m free as a bird and I intend to keep it that way.”

“Keep whatever you want, Casanova,” she scoffed, rolling her eyes. “But it’s like, the kindergarten rule number one. ‘Thou shalt belongest to the wench whose scrunchie thou wearest on thy wrist.’ Something like that.”

Stone’s chuckle rang in her ears, but he had no further snappy comments.

● ● ● ● ● ●

The OK was packed. Way more than they’d expected. Although Andy carried himself like the confident frontman he strived to be, his giddy nervousness backstage was extremely contagious.

Keeva didn’t mind, though, as it was a welcome change from her sickening nervousness - she had to leave the soundcheck two times to vomit.

Once they came on, though, it was like something possessed her and took away the tense cramp in her stomach.

Greg was tightly holding everything together, effortlessly professional and giving her encouraging smiles whenever the two of them found the right groove for a song.

Jeff was jumping around and bopping his head while never missing a beat, she had to come over to him a few times to lift his floppy hat away from his eyes - and she earned a huge twinkling smile from him.

Andy bounced around like a flying comet, commanding all the attention of the crowd and playing them like a fiddle, while Bruce watched him with a gleeful smile, overjoyed to be on stage again working his black-and-white Telecaster.

The lights were low and dimly glowed through the small venue. She could see the encouraging faces, familiar or not, whistling and headbanging like there was no tomorrow.

The whole of Soundgarden, Regan and his and Stone’s friends Shawn and Josh, Jerry and Mike from Alice in Chains, some of the guys from Sub Pop and hers and Jeff’s co-workers. Even Mark and Steve from Green River showed up, along with their new bandmates - all four of them screamed their hearts out and Mark even crowd-surfed at one point. Xana was there, too, clapping and hooting from the side of the stage.

Stone was in his element, writhing from side to side as he mouthed along to his riffs. It was mesmerizing - the way his flushed cheekbones shimmered when Andy called for a lone string of light to be pointed at his lanky friend.

She could do nothing but stare at him in awe, quickly closing her agape mouth shut whenever he turned at her with a half-lidded and out-of-focus gaze, barely present as he gave her a firm nod to cue her to join him.

He had such a strange way of handling himself while playing, a silhouette that haunted her dreams.

“What?”

“Nothing, just your posture.”

“What’s wrong with my posture?”

“Nothing wrong with it, it’s just…it suits you. Perfect ninety degrees. Edgy.”

“I get cramps when I angle it. It’s the arms. You know - beanpole.”

“Hey, can you turn the reverb down a bit?” Stone called after her during one of Andy’s in-between-song comedic routines. They stood right next to each other, but her ears were buzzing, so she gave him a confused frown.

“Huh?”

“The reverb,” he mouthed again, but Keeva shrugged. He shuffled over to her, a bit out of breath from jumping around.

He affectionately took her around her shoulders and squeezed her closer - his cheek was sweaty and flaming hot as he brushed against her forehead while bending down to her.

“The reverb, could you turn it down?”

This time she heard him, leaning back to press her lips against his ear.

“Come again? Sorry, I can’t hear a word you’re saying over that absurd hat, feels like it’s screaming into my face.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫

[unknown-writez]

Misfit Toys

Chapter Five: Creation of Minx- Part Three

 He pulled me up off the bed and continued talking “Time to meet the gang. I took the liberty to get you some threads even stopped by your place for some things. You have a nice diggs.” he continued my head imagining my front door broken down and an apartment that was probably disheveled and ransacked. “Gordon and the rest of the GCPD are gonna get a kick out of that. I bet they think I was kidnapped.” I thought laughing in my head at the make believe reactions I could picture. “I threw away all the boring stuff of course. I’ll be right back, get ready then I can introduce you to everyone.” Jerome finished a hint of excitement in his voice that pulled me back down to earth. He pulled me up from the bed and spun me around making me a little dizzy before giving me a quick hug. His warm body against mine bringing a comfortable and weird sense of safety for a moment. I didn’t want to move. Letting go he turned to leave shouting “Don’t go anywhere without me!” over his shoulder as he walked out everything now silent. Looking around the large room I got the sense that we were somewhere expensive. The walls were painted a deep red and the floors were polished black and white marble. There was one king sized bed with fresh clean black bedding now all bunched up in a messy ball. Across from it on the other side of the room there stood two large black and gold wooden wardrobes in between them a long matching dresser holding a tv. Giving the room a 360 I noticed there were no windows on the walls. Only pictures of random stuff, a carved black marble fireplace and two black doors with fancy golden handles and detailings on the wall the black velvet headboard of the bed was up against. The doors on different sides of the bed. “One of them had to be a luxurious bathroom and the other was probably just a closet.” I thought walking over to one of the wardrobes the ground cold under my feet. Opening it up I was surprised to see mens clothes and a bunch of random stuff. “This must be Jerome’s room.” I concluded not wanting to mess with his stuff. I swiftly closed the wardrobe going over to the other one hoping it was my stuff. Opening the other I immediately recognized my shoes. All my different docs lined up perfectly. Going through the shirts I only found a few of my original tops most of them being new and flashy with cool designs, bright colors and different textures. Some  with leather straps or lacey others with metal rings and studs. Definitely not boring as Jerome put it. Deciding to get dressed I opened up some of the dresser drawers only to find the same style of a variety of bottoms. Some pants, shorts, skirts and undergarments. Going back to the wardrobe I skimmed the hangers finding a half orange half purple velvety top that was laced up with green cord and tied in The front and on the sides. Rummaging through the pants I found what looked to be the matching half and half corduroy bottoms. Taking off my old clothes I was wearing I threw them to the side onto the spotless floor and slipped on the new ones that fit like a glove. Going back I  grabbed a green military style belt and a pair of black holographic docs to finish it off. When I was done putting on my shoes I went to one of the doors near the bed hoping to find a bathroom my assumption being correct when I went inside and found a large golden framed mirror over a double black marble faucet with medicine cabinets on both sides a couple of drawers and regular cabinets under the sinks. On the other side of the room there was a big bath and shower and another door that led to the toilet. Walking in front of the mirror I had to admit I loved the way I looked despite my red eyes from crying so much and my crazy hair. I had always loved bright colors and statement pieces but could never wear them because of work. My favorite clothing items mostly sat in my closet unused till the weekend came. Now I felt like me. I felt comfortable in my own skin, something I hadn’t felt in a while.

[celestiall0tus]

Miraculous Paradise - Chapter 12 - Armageddon

Beginning || Previous || Next

            Amelie’s eyes fluttered open. She groaned and raised her hand to her forehead, then gasped. She panicked at her skin that was a rich royal blue. A rustling came behind her as massive green cloth feathers lifted and fanned behind her. She looked past the tail at a pair of beautiful pink, purple, orange, and yellow fairy wings. She gasped seeing Emilie lift her head now with golden skin and beach blond hair that fell around her.

            “Sister? Look at you!” Amelie exclaimed.

            Emilie shook her head as she focused. She staggered to her feet to reveal she was only covered by a flowy orange, pink, and purple butterfly-themed sash. Amelie gasped and looked away.

            “Sister, some modesty!”

            Emilie looked at herself, then at Amelie. She snorted seeing Amelie’s belly dancer garb with golden chains that dangled from the clothes.

            “Speak for yourself, sis,” Emilie remarked.

            Amelie furrowed her brow, then looked at herself. She chuckled nervously as she stood.

            “Well, I suppose I’m not much better, am I? Two peas in a pod we are.”

            Emilie smiled. “Right, though you were always far more modest than me.”

            “Look, go around flash your bits if you want, but leave a little something to imagination. Am I right? I know I’m not wrong.”

            Emilie giggled, then turned to the window. “It’s time. Are you ready?”

            “Wait. Am I going out? But it’s freezing out there and do you see what I’m wearing?”

            “I do, but do you feel a chill now?”

            Amelie considered. “No. No, I don’t. Is that right? Shouldn’t I be freezing by now?”

            “I don’t think normal rules apply while we’re like this.”

            Amelie hummed. “I suppose not. Speaking of, what should we call ourselves?”

            “Huh?”

            “Well, we can’t exactly call each other by our given names. Unless we want unnecessary attention in our normal lives. So, perhaps we should have aliases?”

            Emilie considered. “Good point. Call me… Echidna.”

            Amelie cooed. “Oh, mother of monsters? I like it. I think I’ll be… Erinona.”

            “Very well, Erinona. Are you ready to begin?”

            “Sure am. What’s the plan? How do we begin?”

            Echidna considered. “We start with a message. I can create pseudo angels to accompany you to the heart of the city. By that point, we should have the attention of the people and news so you can deliver our message.”

            “Oh! What if you created them at different points in the city? Get more attention that way and have them all converge on one location.”

            “And you say your bad at these things.”

            “What? I’m better in the moment. Everything just comes to me. If I’m left to think, my brain just goes blank.”

            Echidna smiled. “Right. Then I hope you’re ready. You’ll need that quick wit starting now.”

~~

            Felix rose and shook his head. He looked at his hand covered in a long black glove. He rushed to the bathroom, turned on the light, and examined himself in the mirror. His clothes had been transformed into a sleeveless, open black tailcoat with the inside lined with gold fabric complete with cat tail, black eye mask, shirt, pants, and thigh-high boots. His long hair was undone and rested in the upturned collar of his coat with a pair of cat ears atop his head. He sneered at the massive bell at the base of his neck, then marveled at his golden cat-like eyes.

            Felix whistled. “Not bad. Not bad at all.”

            Felix admired himself a moment longer when a flash lit up his room. He ran to the window and peered outside. His eyes widened when he saw an angel hovering above the wall. He ducked down and considered how to proceed when new information formed in his head. The word “Cataclysm” floated about with images of utter destruction.

            Felix turned back to the window and saw the angel was still there. He opened the window and snuck up on the creature.

            “Cataclysm!” Felix roared.

            The angel turned as Felix clawed it. Its body turned black and broke apart into ash.

            Felix grinned, but it faded when he saw more angels fly by overhead. He furrowed his brow and followed them.

~~

            Marinette’s eyes blinked as she returned to the living room. She glanced down at her outfit. She now wore a pink leotard with three black stripes running down it, a pink superhero eye mask, black gloves and high-heel boots, and white stockings and gloves under the black ones. Her short hair had grown out and was tied back in wild low pigtails. A long, sheer vest cape draped off her shoulders to her knees. She winced seeing the scars on her legs and shoulders exposed, covered only by a sheer pink fabric.

            Marinette reached for a blanket when a bright light lit up behind the curtains. She cautiously approached and peeked outside. Her jaw dropped when she saw an angel manifest out of thin air. She quickly closed the curtain and backpaddled. Panic gripped her as she collided with Alya, who let out a loud whine like a dog.

            Alya gasped and covered her mouth. “Did I make that noise?”

            Marinette shook herself off and faced Alya. She paused seeing Alya in a light gray crop top, black jacket, gray two-tone gloves, pants, and high-heel wedge boots. Alya’s hair was pulled back into a magnificent gray speckled mane with black ends. Fluffy wolf ears and a tail twitched and moved.

            Marinette grinned as her eyes sparkled. She ran a hand along Alya’s tail and clapped. She messed with Alya’s tail until Alya moved it away. Alya ran her own hand through the tail and was surprised to feel how soft and fluffy it was.

            “It’s like it’s real,” Alya said.

            Marinette nodded.

            Ondine and Mylene woke up and looked around. Ondine stood now dressed in a black feathered leotard, gloves, and boots with black tights and her red hair now black. Mylene wore a blue and black corset, blue jeans, short black platform boots with a blue ribbon, and long black fingerless gloves with a blue ribbon tied at the end. The different colored streaks in her blonde hair now a mix of blue and black accompanied by a long pair of lop rabbit ears. The girls looked at Marinette and squealed.

            “Look at you, Mari! You’re adorable!” Mylene cooed.

            “For real. You look incredible. Just like a superhero from those movies and comics,” Ondine added.

            Marinette blushed and waved a hand dismissingly.

            “Really, you do, girl. You look absolutely gorgeous,” Alya complimented.

            Marinette’s face flushed red as she looked away sheepishly. The girls showered her with more compliments when a bright light passed by the window. Marinette panicked and frantically pointed to the window. The girls looked out as an angel flew by. They all freaked out and ducked down.

            “Was that an angel? Like, an actual angel?” Mylene asked.

            “It sure looked like one. At least, what we’re told angels look like,” Ondine remarked.

            “Do you think it’s the holders of Paradise?” Mylene questioned.

            “I do. Seems like the perfect start to riling up the people,” Alya pointed out.

            “Then let’s go see our enemy,” Ondine declared.

            “Hold up. We need different names. We can’t call each other by our real names,” Alya said.

            “Right. Well, what do we call ourselves?” Ondine asked.

            Alya hummed. “Well, I know my power is tracking, so call me Huntress.”

            “Oh, that’s smart, but I don’t think there’s anything good to use with my power. How about… Luna. Rabbits are sometimes said to be from the moon after all, in some legends at least,” Mylene said.

            Ondine looked away sheepishly. “Why not call me Odette?”

            Luna gasped. “Like from the ballet? Oh, that’s beautiful!”

            “Isn’t Odette the white swan?” Huntress asked.

            “Does that really matter? Besides, it’s my favorite ballet.”

            “Awe!” Luna and Huntress cooed.

            Odette blushed. “Shut up. Anyway, what do we call Marinette?”

            The girls looked at Marinette and brainstormed.

            “Maybe Ladybug?” Odette suggested.

            Marinette curled her lip.

            “Too simple. She needs something more,” Huntress pointed out.

            “Oh! What about Hope?” Luna suggested.

            Marinette tilted her head.

            “Hope?” Huntress asked.

            “Yeah! Think about it, pink has always been Marinette’s color. There’s also what pink stands for. Sure, it’s often seen as a soft and gentle color, but it also means hope,” Luna explained.

            “I think it’s perfect. Marinette has her soft side, but what’s more, she’s a living symbol of hope too,” Odette pointed out.

            “Sure enough. Being the only survivor of a severe collision and still standing strong after it, that takes something special. Something that a lot of people don’t have,” Huntress added.

            Marinette considered and nodded.

            “Alright, Hope it is. We ready, girls?” Huntress asked.

            Hope looked back and pointed towards Bridgette’s room.

            “Maybe it might be best if we leave her here. She did have a rough day,” Huntress explained.

            Hope looked dejected.

            “Hey, it’s all good, girl. She’ll be here where she’s safe and you’ll get to be heroes together another day when Bridgette is in better spirits. Sound good?”

            Hope pouted but nodded.

            “Alright, girls, let’s go. Time to show our villains who they’re messing with!”

~~

            Gabriel and Adrien sat on the couch as they watched a movie. Gabriel took glances at Adrien to check on him. He felt silly always worrying given how well Adrien had been through the day, but he still worried. Not like Emilie though. He feared the coming year and how she’d be. He knew Adrien was everything to her, to them, but especially her. This news and time limit would destroy her, he just knew it.

            “Dad, look!” Adrien yelled.

            Gabriel snapped out of his thoughts. He looked around to see Adrien pointing at the TV. He turned to the screen to see the movie was interrupted by a news broadcast. It showed clips of angels flying through the city near Point Zero outside of Notre Dame Cathedral. A large crowd had gathered with countless reporters as they all recorded the angels that collected above.

            “What’s going on?” Adrien asked.

            “I’m not sure. I wasn’t aware of any shows or such going on tonight. Especially at Notre Dame.”

            They watched as the crowd and reporters’ attention was stolen by a gentle, but loud bird call. Everyone looked around in a panic as the area distorted in and out of a beautiful garden-like paradise. The overhead news cameras spotted a blue woman with a long peacock tail cape atop the cathedral. Everyone took notice and turned to the lady. The live news feed switched between perspectives in an attempt to get a better visual of the mysterious woman.

            “People of Paris, nay, the world, hear me. I come to you all as a messenger of our Lord, the Almighty Father who reigns in Heaven above. The time has come for Paradise!”

            The crowd was stunned silent as were the news cast reporting on this.

            “Paradise? What does she mean?” Adrien asked.

            Gabriel hesitated. “Well, some people believe that the world will return to paradise, but only after a long, gruesome battle between the son of the Lord and the antithesis of him. Those who survive are permitted to live in the newfound paradise.”

            Fear clouded Adrien’s eyes as he turned back to the screen. Gabriel grimaced and looked back too.

            “Fear clouds your hearts and minds, but you need not despair. If you wish to bear witness to the sanctity of Paradise, you must give yourself over to Him. Repent for your sins and cast away all vices for the coming year. For when the upcoming year has expired, Paradise will begin and those who are unclean will pave the foundation and be the roots in which Paradise grows. Save yourselves now and give yourselves over to the Glamor of Paradise!”

            Bright light emitted from Erinona. The crowd yelled as the night was lit up like a firework show. The light vanished and silence filled the air. Everyone gawked at Notre Dame as it stood in a crumbled glorified ruin overgrown by nature. It was a beautiful, heartbreaking sight to behold.

            Erinona jumped and floated down to the entrance. “Paradise awaits inside. Give yourselves to it and assist in freeing the world of sin. Only then will you witness the exclusive Paradise of our Lord.”

            The crowd remained in place a moment longer before a large chunk broke off and ran for the cathedral entrance. Erinona smiled when screams sounded behind her. She heel-turned to see purple and black flames had erupted from the entrance. She ran ahead of the crowd, summoned a pair of fans, and faced the flames. High-pitched laughter mixed with barking filled the area. The flames leapt higher and morphed into a gigantic nine-tailed fox monster with the fur of a starless night.

            “Did I hear ‘Paradise’?” the fox asked in a gnarly, chilling voice.

            Erinona pointed a fan at the fox. “Begone, foul creature. This is sacred ground, no place for the likes of you.”

            “A place as cursed as this? Where you preach the damnation of Paradise? Here I thought I would feel right at home.”

            “Hold your tongue, beast! Paradise is our salvation and it’s creatures like you that will steal it away from us.”

            The fox grinned. It shrieked that made an unearthly noise as it grew and crashed through the ruined cathedral. The fox monster broke apart into a pool of shadows at the busted entrance. Erinona grabbed as many people as she could from the falling debris, but many were out of her reach. She yelled out when a pink yo-yo flew in and emitted a bright light. A large net formed from the light that caught the debris. She rushed people out from under the net when she saw Hope land. All cameras turned to Hope as she stood tall and her head high.

            Adrien’s eyes lit up. “Did you see that, Dad? The ladybug girl saved everyone!”

            Gabriel gave an uneasy smile and nod, then looked back at the TV.

            Erinona approached Hope as a man landed atop the cathedral. Hope grimaced and Erinona looked at the man.

            “Starting the party without me? I’m a little insulted. Everyone knows you wait for the gentleman to join,” the man said.

            Erinona’s face twisted in confusion. “Who are you, kitten?”

            “I go by many names. Cat Noir is preferable, but I won’t mind Cataclysm!”

            Cat Noir thrust his arm in the air. A massive orb of black energy grew and fell into the cathedral. Everyone shielded their eyes from the dust and debris blown everywhere from the destruction.

            Erinona gasped in horror at the utter destruction of the cathedral and Cat Noir who stood proud amongst the ashes. He started towards her when a small fox woman with nine tails emerged from the shadows. The woman cuddled up to him. He sneered but quickly masked his annoyance.

            Cat Noir held out his staff, pointing it at Erinona. “You preach salvation, but you actually preach damnation. Let the sheep fall at your feet, but we won’t be so easily swayed. We will see Paradise destroyed.”

            “Then you will face your own destruction,” Echidna’s voice echoed.

            Everyone shouted and pointed above the area. Echidna hovered over the demolition site. Everyone gawked at Echidna save for Cat Noir, who looked away and shielded his eyes.

            Gabriel’s heart dropped and blood ran cold seeing Echidna. So many features were different, but that face, that was Emilie. What was she doing? What was she planning? How far gone was she?

            Echidna snapped her fingers. The angels that filled the air transformed into six-winged warrior angels. The crowd marveled while Cat Noir grimaced. The fox woman vanished, leaving him all alone.

            “Your partner is smart to abandon you, heathen. Now you may serve as a warning to all who wish to prevent the Lord’s will,” Echidna remarked.

            Echidna snapped her fingers and pointed to Cat Noir. The angels dove down as black smoke burst and engulfed the entire area. The crowd yelled as they were all plunged into pitch black smoke. Echidna snapped her fingers again and transformed the smoke into an ethereal thin mist. She sneered seeing that Cat Noir had fled and Hope was gone.

            “Echidna, I beseech you, assist me in restoring the sanctuary the heathens had destroyed. Let us give the people their sanctuary back.”

            Echidna landed beside Erinona and took her hand. “Together we will restore what those demons destroyed and give the people their salvation.”

            “For the Glamor of Paradise!” Erinona declared.

            “Mold into Paradise!” Echidna yelled.

            Light burst and filled the area. It died away after a few minutes to reveal a rebuilt cathedral overran with the most beautiful flowers, trees, and other foliage decorated the interior and exterior. The cameras panned over the building as the angels landed and turned to stone statues as they stood guard. The cameras shifted from the building to Echidna as she faced the crowd.

            “Rejoice, mortals. Salvation is at hand. Pass through the doors and offer yourselves up. You will emerge reborn in the Lord’s light, blessed with the mark of Paradise. Those with this mark will be saved from the onslaught as demons rise to purge the world to make way for Paradise. Save yourselves now.”

            The crowd stood in stunned silence before the majority ran into the cathedral. Echidna and Erinona bowed to the cameras before they vanished inside. Gabriel grimaced and shut off the TV.

            “Dad?”

            “Let’s not worry about this, Adrien. I… I think it’s time for bed.”

            “Is everything ok?”

            Gabriel sighed. “No, it’s not. I’m worried. This is… troublesome.”

            “What do we do?”

            “I’m going to make some calls. You try to relax. In the meantime, we hope that little ladybug girl can stop this war of magical zealots.”

            “You don’t think she’s alone, do you?”

            “I’m not sure. I can only hope she isn’t, but she may very well be.”

            Adrien looked away in thought. His eyes caught the bracelet as he remembered Sass’s words. “Right. I’ll head upstairs. I’ll call if I need you?”

            Gabriel smiled and hugged Adrien. “I’m sorry. This is… far from what I expected.”

            Adrien returned the hug. “Me too. Sleep well, Dad.”

            “You too, son.”