#cara mia cult

[sherrysgarden]

I want their relationship…

———————————-&———————————

Morticia and Gomez Addams•.•.•..

[lotties-ashwagandha]

Heyyyyy!

Can we have a f! Reader who literally worships Larissa? (not only in bed) but openly worships her and love her with all her life? It's pretty much like how Gomez/Morticia in the 1991-93 film!

I think it would be cute the reader is a teacher at Nevermore and always spoke about Larissa as if she's a Goddess and how the students pretty much joke about her starting a cult XDDD

Thanks!

I love this sm omg the cult joke 😭 I had sm fun w this ty anon <3

-

HER GAZE LIT THE HEAVENS

pairing: larissa weems x fem!reader

word count: 831

notes and warnings: im so gay

You didn’t have to look up from your computer to know it was Larissa who had entered your classroom. The clicking of her heels on the polished wooden floor gave away every step she took, and the murmuring of the students starting their essays only confirmed your suspicions.

You stood, coming around your desk to meet her, resisting the urge to kiss her in front of your history class. Not that any of the students would have been exceedingly surprised — it was no secret that you and Larissa were together, and that you could hardly keep your hands off each other. It was a common subject of Nevermore gossip and was more frequently used as something to be held over your heads by the students, but you couldn’t say that you minded at all, and while Larissa was a bit more sensitive to it, you had a suspicion that she let it go on to solidify the already-widely-known fact that you were hers.

You stepped away for a moment, instructing the class that their essays were due in a week, and that after that they would have no homework for a few weeks due to Outreach Day and Parents’ Weekend.

From the edge of your vision you could see Larissa watching you, and you could feel the love in her gaze. You felt yourself trip over your words a bit every time you remembered she was watching, and this did not go unnoticed by Larissa, for you could see a small smile making its way to her crimson-painted lips.

The students began to make their way out of your classroom, and every so often you could spy a few turning to smirk at the two of you and whisper amongst themselves… you and Larissa really were the best of Nevermore’s social entertainment.

Once you were alone, you finally allowed yourself to kiss Larissa. It had felt like ages since you’d last seen her, even though it had only been a few hours. You savored every moment you spent in her presence, the safety she gave you, like she was a goddess walking among lesser mortals.

Larissa pulled away first. After a moment she chuckled, and you could tell she was finding a way to word what she was about to say.

“What is it?” You said, not sure if you wanted to hear or not.

She hesitated, but then she smiled in amusement, leaning against your desk. “What’s all this I’ve been hearing about a cult?”

“A what?”

“A cult. I’ve been hearing students talking about you starting, and I quote, a ‘Goddess Weems Cult.’”

You raised your eyebrows, slightly bewildered. “A Weems Cult?”

Larissa laughed, completely reveling in your confusion. “They say that since you’re so enamored by me you’re going to start a cult for me.”

You buried your head in your hands, equally embarrassed and amused, not sure whether you were going to laugh until you cried or hide yourself under your desk.

“No, darling, come here,” Larissa said with a grin, pulling you into her arms. “I think it’s hilarious… I think you’re adorable.”

You wrapped your arms around her waist, standing on your toes to try to kiss her cheek, your height difference another reason you loved her. Despite the jokes from the students, she truly stood like a goddess, strong and beautiful and utterly ethereal. “I wouldn’t mind starting a cult for you, actually.”

Larissa shook her head. “I love you, too.”

“Cara Mia,” you said in a deep voice, mimicking Gomez Addams.

She laughed, another blessing brought to you, for her smile lit the heavens. “Mon cher,” she replied in an equally nauseating tone.

“Oh, Morticia! French! You know what that does to me,” you performed, throwing your hands over your heart. “You know, the next time Wednesday causes trouble, we should perform this little skit for her.”

“Yes, but I’m sure to the students the only difference between that and how we usually act is replacing our names.”

At this you smirked, shaking your head as you went behind your desk to start sorting through papers.

“Leave that for tomorrow, darling, you’ve done so much already today,” Larissa urged, coming up behind you and running her hands along your waist. Her tone along with the subtle touch was enough to make you feel as if you were melting, and you were sure that at any moment you would turn into a pile of ash.

You turned around, standing between her and the desk, pulling her gently down to kiss you. You had no doubt her lipstick would be smudged across your own lips, a thought that only spurred you forward.

“Well, I’m not sure what I’d do in my free time if I stopped working,” you teased. “I can’t think of anything.”

She leaned in again, and you could feel her breath as she spoke. “I can think of a few possibilities.”

And as she met your eyes, her gaze lit the heavens.

———

taglist: @cartoonpeoples @thedeconstructionist @cordeliass @mayfair-fleur @goodeday2u @traumatisedfangirl @paulsonsratched

[elisanous]

"Mermaid clutch" by Cult Gaia. Photo via Cara Mia.

[4shotsofspooky]

5 Headcanons about Morticia Addams

I. Judging from the fact that in each adaptation of the Addams family story Morticia displays not only feminine manners but also skills in handling weapons, playing musical instruments, knowledge of classical literature, foreign languages, chemistry, physics and botany, she has received an excellent education in her time, and her demure demeanour and welcoming as mistress of the house all relatives without exception, even those who may not be the most desirable, suggest an upbringing that was typical of children in wealthy families who could afford it. Most likely, the Frump family sent both daughters to a boarding school, where the girls could not only learn various sciences, but also develop existing talents and skills. This only confirms that Morticia really could have studied at Nevermore… And that she wasn't so simple. After all, there was also Ophelia….

II. Morticia Addams is an excellent mother, very sensitive to the needs of her children, but also able to curb their very difficult characters. She has taken care to home-school her children before school, and both of them are probably ahead of their classmates in intellectual development: even the quiet Pugsley is a talented pyrotechnician, and this indicates an excellent knowledge of at least chemical processes and physics. Morticia willingly allows them to develop their skills and do things that bring pleasure, even if it threatens the integrity and safety of the house, but from time to time keeps a tight grip on them(and at the same time on her husband and others in the house) : probably thanks to this Wednesday and Pugsley have not yet nailed each other.

III. Morticia is a model of self-control. A woman so perfectly in command of her emotions could easily be a CIA agent, fooling all the polygraphs and giving out a half-dead heartbeat until Gomez says "cara mia". Whenever they have guests in the form of various relatives, she remains admirably unperturbed, as if she knew perfectly well of their intention to arrive, so that even if she wants to send them away with a kick in the arse, the guests do not even know about it and kiss the hands of the lady of the Addams' house. To think of what might really be lurking in the thoughts of this enchanting lady of spades…

IV. There could hardly be a better mistress of the house than she is: with a skilful management of available means, Morticia creates order and 'Addamsian' comfort in the house, keeping the household under her control so that the reigning matriarchy does not hurt Gomez in the slightest. He seems to love his clever wife and is happy to show this feeling always and everywhere: even after all these years his ardent Spanish nature is completely at the mercy of the black charm of Morticia Addams.

V. Morticia Addams is probably not fully human. It is true that often in answers to the question of what she is, we are assured that Morticia is perfectly ordinary, just that she has a peculiar way of life and a touching fondness for it through the cult of death. This may well be admitted, but can a lifestyle be an antidote to the deadly plants in her greenhouse or the far from healthy bites of the same spiders? And if we remember the approximate menu of meals in the Addams family (crocodile's feet, bilberry, eyes of newt), then there are involuntary suspicions whether these Addamses are so ordinary, and what kind of blood flows in their children. And even if we go back to the origins, 'Morticia' and 'Ophelia' are definitely not ordinary names. Of course, it could just be a tribute to mother Frump's taste… Or maybe there's a darker story behind it. Shall we investigate?

[grlquartz]

enjoy this little thing because i can't seem to get through writers block right now <3

1.9k words of primo and theo (oc) being cute about an old picture of him; a few drug mentions and a bit of suggestiveness under the cut but nothing too crazy hehe

Comfortable silence had blanketed the sunlit study for a while before either of them realized that the music had stopped playing. Another record had spun to its conclusion.

“Why don’t you put something on,” Primo said eventually, giving a slight gesture towards the general direction of the record player without taking his eyes off of his book.

It was only polite of him to offer, Theo thought, since he had chosen the last few. She yawned deeply as she sat up off of the chaise lounge and set her own book aside. Flipping through the illustration books of old botanical studies had been interesting at first, but now she was glad for something else to put her mind to.

She stood and wiggled from side to side to stretch out her back, then padded over the soft rug in her stocking feet over to the far wall where the turntable and speakers were. Primo had a fairly modest system- not that she really knew much about them anyways- but she thought his collection of music was rather impressive. The bookshelf next to the player supported multiple wire racks of records, each one stuffed to the brim. It was always a treat to discover what he might have hidden amongst the classics.

The sunlight warmed the floor in front of the shelf, where she plopped down criss-cross and began to ghost her fingertips along the ridges of the record sleeves. “Anything in particular?” she asked him, and he answered with a simple hum from his place in the wingback chair.

“Your choice, cara mia.”

Satanas, that narrowed things down. There was so much to choose from… she began to thumb out a couple at a time, sliding them down to get a glimpse at the covers. Some she knew by sight alone. A few familiar covers made her smile to herself- they had almost worn out Rumours, mostly thanks to her. His beloved collection of Tina Turner’s discography was neatly organized in its own section, in the rack that she preferred to peruse; where ABBA and Fleetwood Mac and The Eagles were just a few among some of her frequent picks.

The other shelf was a trip to the wide expanse of hard rock spanning the decades, and from the dawning era of metal; Led Zepplin, Black Sabbath, Deep Purple, Blue Oyster Cult… just a sampling among countless other artists, many she wasn’t quite as familiar with. Hmmm… maybe she ought to close her eyes and just pick one.

She did, trusting her intuition as she smoothed her fingers over the thin spines, and out came one of her favorites. She gave a little huff, though; she didn’t think he would really be in the mood for it today.

“How about Foreigner?”

He was quiet for a long moment- must have been deliberating- and then he answered somewhat nonchalantly. “Mmm, maybe not.”

She was right. So much for her choice. With a little private roll of her eyes she put the record back on the rack and put her intuition to another test.

Ah, that was better- a Pink Floyd album seemed a much more fitting soundtrack for this lazy, comfortable afternoon they were sharing. When she slipped the record from its well-loved sleeve, something happened to catch her eye; a corner of something, maybe a note, had almost come out with it. No reason to stifle her curiosity…

Oh, it wasn’t a note, it was an old photo. She set the record and its cover down beside her on the floor and flipped over the photo; it was hardly bigger than an index card, and the image quality wasn’t the clearest, but the subject matter instantly made her stomach flip in surprise.

“Hey, ah…” she started, entranced by what she was looking at. “What were you up to in seventy-three?”

From behind her she heard him turn a page slowly before he answered, a little facetiously. “Hmm… a lot of sex and drugs, I imagine.”

Satanas in fucking hell, she could imagine, too. In the picture he absolutely looked like a god of the former and someone who knew his way around the latter. He must have been in his late twenties, she calculated quickly, and she found herself stroking her fingertips over the papery surface of the photo as she stared down at it. 

“Why do you ask?”

“Oh, uh… just…” she couldn’t keep her train of thought on the right track. Holy fuck. She had wondered about what he might have looked like as a young man, and she had some good guesses, but to see it for herself like this was so exciting that she could feel her face starting to flush warm. Whoever took the picture must have caught him at an interesting time, because his expression looked a little sour. But his face, fresh and bare of any paint, was unspeakably handsome- his angular jaw, strong nose, and piercing eyes set under his brow made her heart flitter even now. His skin looked so youthful and more tanned here- she thought she could even notice the shade of a few freckles across the bridge of his nose- and he seemed to glow in the bright sun, maybe from sweat. 

And if that wasn’t enough to draw her attention, then his outfit had captured it. A silver earring sparkled in his earlobe, since his long, wild blonde hair had been tucked behind his ear on that side. A cropped, sleeveless shirt hardly concealed his lean arms crossed over his chest, where he dangled a joint lazily between his fingers and a hairtie clung to his wrist. Or his midriff, where a trail of light hair down his belly caught the sun and led the eye to the low rise of his red athletic shorts, which… left absolutely nothing at all to the imagination. Lucifer almighty.

“Um,” she managed finally, enraptured with the image of him. “Do you still own these?”

“Own what?” he questioned, and now with the record momentarily forgotten she got up to bring the photo over to him.

As she approached he flicked his mismatched gaze up to her, and noticing the telltale color dusting her cheeks, he put his book down. She could only smile shyly as she handed it over to him.

He looked at it for a while as recognition sprawled slowly over his painted features, and eventually his wrinkles creased deeply with a knowing smile. “Where did you find this?”

“In the Dark Side sleeve.”

“Ah.” She could tell that he seemed amused, both at the memory the picture stirred and at her reaction to it. “Yes, that makes sense. Terzo took this,” he explained. “I remember he was so insistent. He was in quite a phase with that camera of his.”

“Oh, yeah?” That piqued her interest- maybe that meant there were other pictures like this one, hidden away in Papa Terzo’s office in a forgotten photo album or dusty storage box… maybe she could sweet-talk someone into getting a glimpse at them, a peek into the past where her amato was experiencing life as a young man. A very, very attractive young man.

But for now she was happy to soak up the image of him in this one; sweating away the heat of some long-passed summer, in shorts that would make even a most devout sinner blush and glance away. What that would make her, she couldn’t say.

He kept smiling, taking in the details of the old photo before finally holding it back out for her to take. “He would tell you I made a terrible subject. But, in my defense, he always picked the worst moments. I believe I had just finished repairing something here, I don’t recall what… look, you can see how filthy my hands were.”

She took the photo again and sure enough, his hands were indeed dark and smudged with the remnants of whatever work he had been doing. She hadn’t even noticed at first glance- an understandable miss, considering what other details there were to admire.

“Satanas,” she finally murmured to herself. “You were so…”

How exactly could she describe him? It was like seeing him at his truest; unhindered here by the slow marching of time. This was the man she knew, unfiltered by age or responsibilities or the hardships she knew he had experienced as his life had gone on- and perhaps much more uninhibited in his self-expression. It only added another level, formed another facet of her attraction to him. In the simplest of terms- he was so fucking hot. Holy shit. She thought she could stare at this forever. Maybe he’d let her keep it to put on her bedside table.

He waited patiently for her to come to her conclusion, and when she didn’t he let out a deep chuckle. “Oh, Theo.”

“Seriously,” she insisted. “I… I think you should let me see the rest of Terzo’s pictures.”

That really made him chuckle then. “Be careful what you wish for.”

“The ones of you,” she said with a little giggle of her own, and now she moved closer to sit slightly against the arm of his chair.

“Maybe one of these days. We can take a little trip down memory lane, yes?”

“I’d like to,” she answered, smoothing her thumb carefully over the photo she still studied thoroughly. “I really like seeing you like this.”

“Young?”

“Well, yeah, but also just… yourself.” She was trying to convey her meaning- how she truly loved learning about his life as himself, as Primo, not just as Papa, and seeing him for who he really was… she wasn’t quite so articulate, but he got the jist. His hand came to slide around her back, settling at her hip, and she let her hand rest against his. The creases and wrinkles in his skin were so pleasant to trace with her fingertips, and she did so absentmindedly.

“You flatter me, dolcezza.”

“Oh, come on. You look amazing. And you still do,” she continued, turning to smile down at him, and when she noticed his eyes softening she felt her own heart do the same.

“I’ve changed a bit.”

“Well, yeah. Haven’t we had this conversation already?” She quirked her brow at him. “Something about aging, and wine…?”

He smiled again, that magnetic smile that even when hidden under layers of dark paints could light her up with excitement and affection. “Oh, yes, you and your metaphors.”

“Oh, pfft. You know I mean it.”

“I do know.” His hand, settled against her hip, squeezed softly around her flesh there. “And I appreciate it very much. You are awfully sweet to me.”

She felt fresh warmth blooming in her cheeks, and to that she didn’t know what exactly to say, so she just squeezed his hand. They sat like that for a few moments- the room still blanketed in that comfortable silence, the honey-gold sunlight still illuminating the space- until she glanced back down at the photo one more time, and couldn’t help but smile.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Mm?”

“Do you still have these?”

He looked slightly puzzled at her, until he realized exactly what she was referring to, and now he really laughed. 

“Theodora.”

“What? I just want to know.”

“Even if I did,” he countered, rumbling with deep laughter, “I doubt they would fit.”

“I mean... we could at least just see if they do.”

“Mm. Certainly you have no ulterior motive.”

She couldn’t defend herself against that, and he knew it. At her slightly sheepish-looking smile, he laughed again and took her gently to pull her down for a kiss.

[goldnskyart]

9 and/or 11 for the ask game? <3

9:A song that makes you happy

There’s many but these two came to mind :3

I have absolutely no explanation for the second one my brain just absolutely loves it for some reason

11:A song that you never get tired of

Idk what they put in this song but it’s addictive-

[witching-by-the-willow]

Wrath wrapping his arms around Emilia when she crushed the leaf as if he could protect and shield her from whatever death curse might have been if she had got his name wrong, because he genuinely thought she was going to die and was so afraid of losing her, and then, when she's okay, he holds her tighter, both in relief and his conviction that she would hate him now that she knew who he was, so this moment, in his mind, was the last time he would get to be so close to her and he wanted to hold onto it for as long as he could....I will never get over it. 😭

[feysandfeels]

How many times do we think Wrath has seen the reincarnation that Emilia is supposed to be, how many times has he observed her life without her knowing who she is and what they had, how many times has he approached her and fall in love with her, how many times has she fallen in love with him without knowing, how many times has he learnt her name and been shaken when his falls out of her lips because her voice sounds the same, how many times has he found new things that previous iterations did not show prominently and fell for them, how many times has he looked into those brown eyes throughout time and hope that maybe this time she will remember.

[prrcyjacksons]

KOTC, a summary :

[witching-by-the-willow]

Prince Wrath: "I don't coddle. I won’t comfort. Or tend to your wounds. Emotional or otherwise."

Prince Wrath: *takes the viperidae venom to his body to save Emilia's life* *takes care of her after the attack* *saves her from the aper demon* *plays nurse for too weeks after Emilia's encounter with Lust* *prepares elemental bath for her and adds her favorite flowers* *nurses her back to health when she suffers from hypothermia (twice)* *feeds her chocolate-covered berries with whipped cream when she's drunk*

Me: Liar.

[jofie-does-things]

L’Assassino Immortale

Summary: As a seasoned art curator, you’re no stranger to mishaps in art auctions on the small and large-scale. On this trip to Italy, you thought you’d seen it all. Accidentally stumbling into cult stuff is a new one for you.

Pairing: (Technically) Modern!Ezio x Art Curator!Reader

Word Count: 5.9K

Genre: Angst (ig?), Fluff, Suspense

Warnings: Implications of death, Blood, Attempted human trafficking, Canon-typical violence

Author’s Note: I know that I said that the next fic I posted, it’d be a Connor one, but I wanted to write something for Halloween. And also it was supposed to be 1K words MAX, but, alas, I simply do not control the plot.

I’m still working on a few different fics and the requests that are in my inbox so don’t worry! I’m hoping to have a little more free time soon to finish those.

Feel free to drop a request into my inbox and enjoy!!

“You look wonderful, mia cara.” A small shiver runs down your spine at the pet name, but you mentally chastise yourself for lingering on it. It’s not his fault that he’s been familiar right off the bat, but what you can control is how you interpret his friendliness. And it’s not a good idea to make advances on your temporary escort to a very important art auction.

“Grazie Ezio.” The roll of the ‘r’ is awkward and stilted off of your tongue and the man helping you tug the zipper of your dress up has the opportunity to tease you for your rusty Italian, but he doesn’t take it. The heat in your cheeks must rival a space heater at this point. “I really appreciate you helping me out with this. I don’t know why my dress chose now of all times to revolt against me.”

It was your attempt at shifting the embarrassment off of your shoulders because you’d rather have him think of you as witty and charming than awkward and dumb. A small brush of warmth flows across the tops of your shoulders as he huffs out a laugh and you have to fight back another shiver.

Then his warmth is gone, leaving you cold and properly cinched into your dress for the night. His brown, almost golden, gaze inspects you with a scrutiny that has you puffing up like the world’s most self-absorbed peacock.

You really couldn’t thank him enough for his help and guidance over the week that you’ve been in Italy. You’d mentioned through the haze of jetlag that this was your first time in the country. He’d asked you what your plans were sightseeing-wise and when you had no answer for him (mostly because you didn’t want to seem as hopelessly lost as you felt) he’d promised to be your personal escort around Tuscany.

He rang true in that promise and dragged you all over the region until you were too tired to go anywhere anymore and collapsed onto the couch in the lobby. Only to wake up in your bed in your hotel room hours later to a hot tray of food on your bedside table and note to take it easy until the auction.

You were in love with him by the end of the week.

Now you’re standing in front of him, dressed to the nines and hoping he can’t see how you wobble ever so slightly in the heels you’ve adorned tonight. Though you can’t tell if that’s due to the height of them or how handsome he looks in the three-piece suit and gold embroidered blazer.

He’s guided you to his car, hand held firmly in his as you struggle down the stairs, feeling like a princess and you can’t see how this night could get any better.

Briefly, you wondered if you’d have to fake a medical emergency to get out of this. Then, a caterer walked by with a tray of the Caprese skewers and you realized you didn’t have to fake a medical emergency if you just got your hands on one of those toothpicks. Alas, you’d been stuck in conversation with a businessman, with a name you can’t remember for the life of you. Was it John, James, Tom…? Which meant no toothpick for you.

In any case, he’d mistaken your polite smile and small-talk for a gateway into discussing his “prominent” art career that boiled down to “my daddy has a lot of money for me to get high and fingerpaint and because I’ve never been told no in my life, I want you to buy a few of my works”. You decided that he was only known to you now as ‘trust-fund’.

Out of boredom, your glassy gaze takes in his well-tailored suit, the pin on his tie sporting a cross, his receding hairline, and the hands that look like they’ve never done a hard day’s work in their life. Thankfully this mental probing goes unnoticed by him, as he’s launched into his next retelling of how he painted the eiffel tower blindfolded. You really can’t take any more stories that end with his parents’ friends telling him he’s the ‘Modern Day DaVinci’.

Truly an affront to Messer Leonardo.

However, you hold your tongue because if Samuel found out you’d sent another trust fund kid into a public tantrum, he’d have Rick from Archives take your place in securing collections. And that’s something you’d never live down. You need these quarterly travel opportunities; for your sanity. But you also didn’t work as hard as you have only to be put in curator time-out until Samuel saw fit to let you return to your duties.

If you didn’t stop your thoughts from being spoken aloud, you’d have to kiss the very nice villa situated in the Tuscan countryside good-bye. And its very handsome caretaker.

Speaking of which, he’d promised to accompany you and yet, from a quick glance around the room, he’s nowhere to be found.

Ezio had ducked away almost 30 minutes ago, with a comforting brush to your lower back and a promise of returning soon with drinks on his lips. An action you were only slightly (read: very) disappointed by because you were in the middle of eagerly discussing the different types of art on display and poking fun at the misnumbered lots.

A piece seemed to be missing, with only the lot number in its display case, and your money was on an art thief stealing a painting while he was insisting that it was probably a statue that simply didn’t wish to be there and walked away on its own. The joke had you choking on your flute of champagne, only barely managing to swallow it down. Ezio offered to grab you a new one from one of the caterers and was off before you could say a word, leaving you to watch the red ribbon wrapped in his hair disappear in the crowd.

So, now you’re stuck with the world’s most boring man, wondering when you’d be able to free yourself from the bonds of this conversation.

The chime over the loudspeaker rings through the building, signifying that the guests were to move into the auction room now that the collections were ready to be sold. One last, desperate sweep over the room told you that your escort had, indeed, vanished. It left you a little miffed, but you came here for more important things than ogling over the man. With the artwork signed over to you earlier this evening, you have no other need to be here. Time to make a hasty retreat to an uber that will take you to the nearest gelato shop.

That is, until an elbow is extended in your field of vision. You glance up to the man attached to the arm and your heart deflates at the sight of trust-fund gesturing to the double doors of the auction room with his head. Waiting to see if he asks you to accompany him, you stare down at the offering. He clears his throat and wags the extended arm again, as if you couldn’t see it 6 inches from your nose.

You think of Samuel’s potential lecture and gulp before wrapping your arm through his and he tugs you through the double doors into the darkness.

~~~

Upon entering, you’re quickly ushered into a row of chairs, sandwiched between your temporary escort and a woman who you believe is working as a model. Her unblemished skin is stretched across her perfectly sculpted skull structure that makes her look particularly ghoulish, but that’s probably due to the white glow of the spotlight up front. She still makes the ghostly look work for her.

You’ve noticed that your chatty partner is uncharacteristically silent as you survey the room, but the silence is a welcome relief to you. In the absence of his prattle, you noted that the woman has a ring on her finger with the same red cross symbol that trust-fund has on his tie pin. You look between the two, noting that they haven’t acknowledged each other in the slightest.

They don’t seem to know each other. The auctioneer has been rambling for minutes now, and all attention has been on the lots. Taking advantage of everyone’s attention being elsewhere, you slowly lean forward to glance at the man escorting the model. He, too, has a cross symbol, but on a pendant around his neck. Even the security personnel posted throughout the room have the symbols on their badge.

You’re starting to feel out of place. Maybe if you can escape to the bathroom you’ll take a few “wrong” turns to the exit.

Before you know it, you’re up and out of your chair, moving to slide out of the row and towards the back of the room when a steel, bruising grip circles your wrist. A hiss of pain escapes you that you fail to smother. Turning toward trust-fund, you level him with a look that you hope conveys every emotion you’ve felt about him since politely smiling to him. Samuel’s lectures be damned.

“What the hell is your problem?” you spit, your statement packed with as much venom as you can muster in a whisper-yell.

He says nothing, only looking at you like you couldn’t be worth any of the effort he’s putting in to keeping you here. The idiotically blank look on his face is starting to piss you off. So, you do what any woman would do: stomp on his foot as hard as you can with your shiny maroon heels. As he releases you and grips his foot with a loud, pained gasp, you hope that it bruises in your march to the back doors.

Sweet blissful freedom, and delicious Italian gelato, is within your grasp as you’re in arm’s reach of the door handles. Or they would be, if the doors actually budged when you went to open them. A few curious looks were thrown your way as you tried to subtly-but-not-so-subtly lean your weight onto the wood grain.

The familiarly painful grip of trust-fund wraps around your upper-arm and wrenches you away from the doors. A distant, swirling thought comes to you of how hands that were so soft could hurt so badly. His palm is raised and ready and you duck, waiting for the blow to come.

It never does.

You peek out from under your other arm to see that his attention is fully enraptured by the lot that the auctioneer is announcing. And, now that you notice, you remember the missing lot number. The one that was just presented.

Like a magnet to metal, your gaze snaps to the stage, curious as to what’s happening.

There’s the sound of a few men grunting, the signs of a team struggling to lift something heavy. A small group of three security guards are making their way to the spotlight, lifting a chair that a man is sitting on. As the men set the chair down, the man’s torso lolls forward, but stops abruptly, as if being held back by something.

Goosebumps trail up your skin and a shiver runs down your spine.

“....is a fine specimen indeed–”

You shouldn’t be here.

“Messer Ezio Auditore. One of the only subjects to have survived the good doctor Malfatto’s experiments in the year 1494…”

They’ve changed his clothes. Thrown him into something oh so cliché and fitting of a vampire from a cheesy horror movie. And if he’d donned it himself in the comfort of his home, you probably would’ve laughed. But now there’s a bitter taste in your mouth as one of the men yanks his head back by his loose ponytail. The ropes holding his frame in place creaking with the rough action.

“...one that was promised eternal life, when imbued with the energy of the First Civilization.”

It’s a heavy confusion that has you tuning back in to the auctioneer.

“As we all know, this man, thi-this thing has been a thorn in our Order’s side for too long,” A murmur of agreement passes through the audience, nodding along with the statement. “Today is truly a special one; where we are finally rewarded with the capture of il Vampiro.”

This…can’t be real. The nodding and cheering of the crowd in the darkness of the auction room has your heart dropping to your stomach.

What the hell kind of cult have you stumbled into?

You want no part in this charade. It stopped being funny a long time ago. So, you’re back to the attempted wriggling out of trust-fund’s grasp. Although his attention has completely turned back to the stage, his grip on your arm is no less unyielding. Your struggle has him pulling you into his side, seizing your jaw and guiding your focus back to the events at the front.

Your writhing is put to a stop with his fingernails digging into your cheeks and a harsh whisper of “Stop it!” spat directly into your ear.

You’re forced to watch as a security guard hands the auctioneer a vial of red liquid and your heart stutters. You hope that’s not what you think it is, but with how this night has been going, you have a sinking feeling that you’re right.

The vial is held under Ezio’s nose for only a moment, but that’s all it takes for him to lurch forwards against his bindings. Reanimated as if he wasn’t as limp as a dead fish just moments ago. The ropes are creaking and he’s letting out a hiss, fangs glinting even from all the way across the room.

The auctioneer jolts back in alarm as the snap of Ezio’s jaws comes a little too close for comfort. His grasp on the vial is lost as the blood spills over the rim, onto Ezio, and the glass shatters on the stage.

It completes the look of a monster having just taken a bite of its prey and you hate yourself for thinking that because you shouldn’t be making that comparison.

He’s just Ezio. The kind, warm owner of the quaint villa situated in the rolling hills of Tuscany. The man who carried all your bags up the stairs to your room. The man who took you to see all the sights. The man who carried you to your room and made you dinner. The man who offered to escort you to this damned event.

But Ezio is still there, on that stage, eyes wild, covered in blood, and looking every bit like Bram Stoker’s ‘Dracula’.

“...here today for the purpose of continuing Doctor Malfatto’s work in experimenting for eternal life. We’ll start the bidding at 50 million for whoever would like to have a ‘crack’ at cracking the poor bloke open,” the auctioneer lets out a breathy laugh at his own joke and the polite chuckling of the audience makes your stomach turn. “Oh! And–”

Now he’s gesturing to the back.

And you're moving, pushed forward and tripping over the wine-colored hem of your evening gown. And oh, how ironic is it that you’re wearing such a fitting hue for this. The universe probably has something against you.

You’re still fumbling all the way up the stairs, escorted by trust-fund and his iron grip on your waist and upper arm.

“He has, very kindly, brought us a special guest that we’ll include in the lot, free of charge! She’ll do wonderfully as a food source! To ensure he stays healthy enough to endure anything!” The auctioneer is terribly excited to offer you up as a human sacrifice. Your breathing has quickened to the point that there’s black spots dancing in your vision. If it wasn’t for trust-fund’s relentless grasp, you probably would’ve met the floor by now.

Distantly, you hear bids already being made, but your gaze has slid to Ezio, now that you’re closer.

The golden-brown color of his eyes have been stained a dark, crimson red, almost as if they’d been injected with blood themselves, and his hair is falling loose from the ribbon he’d tied it in at the beginning of the evening. He’s jerking in the chair, ropes very frayed, but of no concern to the people around you. And those fangs are even more lethal looking up close than they were from afar.

“Aaand sold! For nine-hundred and fifty million euros to Mr. Laurent! Let’s have us a little demonstration before we’re finished with these two, shall we?”

It only takes a moment for trust-fund to drag you closer to Ezio. But all the convincing you gave yourself on how harmless he is seems to have vacated your brain and left nothing behind because now you’re pushing back against trust-fund to get away from the wild man in front of you. The fighting is no use and, in the blink of an eye, your face is shoved forward to meet the crimson gaze. His jerking movements have stopped at the source of food being shoved so abruptly in his face. And he’s leaning in.

Oh god he’s leaning in towards your neck.

You’re going to die here in this snooty manor in the-middle-of-nowhere Italy and it’ll be because you accidentally got caught up in some freaky cult stuff when you should’ve been in an Uber back to the villa.

“When I tell you to drop, I need you to dead weight as hard as you can. Nod if you understand.” A voice whispers into your neck, small enough that it almost goes unnoticed by you. You nod minutely. “Good. I’m sorry for what I’m about to do, mia cara.”

A stabbing pain shoots through you, from your neck to your toes as Ezio latches his mouth onto your throat. Blood rushes from the broken skin, some sliding from the side of his mouth, onto your collarbone and the bodice of your dress.

There’s the sound of someone screaming; the scratch in your throat tells you that it’s coming from you. You can’t focus on anything except the feeling of suction at your neck and, when that’s gone, when he pulls away, you’re left feeling like you ran a marathon four times over. Your muscles ache and a coldness washes over your limbs and you’re gasping for air like it’s your only purpose.

“Now!”

The lack of stability sends you careening to the floor of the stage anyways, effectively throwing trust-fund off-kilter and into Ezio’s path just as he rips himself free of the ropes. You decide to not acknowledge the feeling of more warm liquid splattering over your form. Nor do you want to make the connection of that with the sound of trust-fund’s body hitting the stage next to you with a sickening thump!

From what you can see in your hazy vision, there’s mass chaos as half of the people in the audience scurry to any exit they can find and the other half are fighting their way up to the stage to restrain the storm of vampiric fury that they’ve unleashed.

The river of warmth trailing down your neck reminds you that you’re still alive. You won’t be for long if you don’t staunch the flow of it soon. Your hands fumble with the hem of your dress, tearing two strips from it and clumsily fastening a wad of the fabric to your neck in a slightly unhinged choker. You’re definitely not getting your deposit back on this.

Sounds of fighting stop momentarily, left with only indignant yells of “Get him!” or “Quick!” from those ambushing the stage. With a grunt, the floor disappears from under you as you’re hauled up into the embrace of Ezio, carrying you bridal style as he zips with inhuman speed to an exit off to the side of the stage.

His hair is still wild as it whips around your arms that are wrapped around his neck, but his eyes are back to their usual golden-brown. And the lack of fangs poking out of his lips serves to highlight the presence of the scar across his lip. Despite his previous vampiric features, he feels warm to the touch.

It’s probably not the appropriate time to be noticing these details about him, but it’s all you can focus on in your state.

He’s running through the halls, searching for a way to the exit and jostling you every step of the way. You come to what seems to be the dead end of a hallway, backed into the corner by the rapidly approaching crowd that managed to gather their wits enough to chase after you both.

A loud crash explodes in your ears and there’s chunks of marble flying through the air and dust gathering in your lungs. Glancing quickly to your right, the marble bust next to your head seems to have spontaneously shattered. The sound of another gunshot sends the glass window behind you bursting into fractals of crystal.

Ezio turns his back to the crowd, bringing a solid hand up to shield your head and cradle it into his chest before he’s leaping through the remnants of the exploded panes of the window.

The air is crisp and freezing as it billows past you, stinging your face and arms. The blood pounding in your skull is overwhelming and you think, maybe if you tell yourself to stay awake, you won’t black out from the speed at which Ezio is moving.

You’re wrong.

~~~

There’s hands on you, gently nudging you awake after what feels like minutes. The rays of sun streaming into your face tells you otherwise.

You crack your eyelids open slowly, head throbbing at the light flooding your senses. You turn towards the movement beside you and only manage a glimpse of Ezio before a wet cloth is placed on your forehead, effectively clouding your gaze. An indignant noise bursts from your throat and you jerk upwards in the bed, the cloth landing with a wet plop into your lap.

Not a good idea. The vertigo has you gasping and the feeling of throwing up has hooked into your stomach, giving an unpleasant tug as you dry heave into the basin that’s placed in your lap. A crinkling noise vaguely registers in your brain while the muscles in your neck flex with the effort of emptying your stomach contents. Ezio must’ve bandaged the bite mark up while you were out.

Memories of the night before, or what you can assume is the night before, rush back with the dull throbbing of your wound.

You take the opportunity to try and lift your head as the towel is brought to your forehead, dabbing at the sweat there. Once Ezio is satisfied with your lack of gagging, he gently takes your hand and places it over where he’s holding the towel. Then he’s retreating with the bowl, to go wash it out, you assume.

With the absence of him in the room, you take a moment to observe your surroundings.

You’re not in your regular lodgings. By the way the room is lavishly decorated and homely, you assume that this must be where Ezio stays. There are art pieces from all over the globe from different time periods. Had last night not occurred you would’ve assumed he was just an avid collector of timeless pieces, but you know better now.

There’s a portrait situated above the fireplace, depicting a man and a woman sitting in two chairs beside each other, holding hands over the end of the chair arms. A line of three young adults are positioned behind them, all donning content smiles as they pose for the portrait. Two men and one woman. They have their arms thrown around each other, looking every bit of the ride-or-die siblings they seem to be. There’s a little boy there too, situated in the middle and sitting on the ground, playing with a feather in his hands as he smiles at the artist. The time-period is easy enough to guess with them all dressed in Renaissance fashions.

Each person pictured has an air about them that makes them unique and brings a sort of life to the painting as a whole. And in the little details, the personalities of them all shone through. It’s almost as if, behind the scenes, just beyond the frame, there’s a warm, loving family that would do anything for each other. That, maybe if you reached your hand past the frame, you’d somehow join them back in the 15th century.

The golden mantle under it has an engraving: “La famiglia Auditore”.

“That was painted by Leonardo Da Vinci.” Ezio’s suddenly by your side even though you could’ve sworn you hadn’t heard him approach and it unnerved you just a little.

You let out a breath of a laugh, expecting it to be a joke.

A small smile has graced his features, one that doesn’t necessarily reach his eyes. The pallor of his skin and dark circles around his eyes age him, but that’s not even physically possible for him. At least, you don’t think so. How accurate is vampire mythology when it comes to a 35 year old from the Italian Renaissance?

Not sure if that was a question you’d like answered in this very second, you deflect your thoughts.

“So, you and your family knew him then?” A small nod is the answer to your question and he allows for the silence he’s left to be filled with your questions.

“Are they also…” A dark look crosses his face at the lingering implication and you’re kicking yourself for asking such a dumb question. You‘ve only known this man for a week for crying out loud! “Oh my god! I’m so sorry, I did not mean to ask you that. That was so rude of me to-”

“It’s okay, mia cara. I’ve had five hundred years to get over it,” he’s trying to crack a little joke to lighten the mood and you appreciate the effort. “But no, they are not, uh, vampires like me. I am the product of many experiments gone wrong. Or, right as Malfatto would say.” He spat the name out like it burned his tongue to even speak it.

You recognized the name from the auctioneer’s spiel. Something about Ezio being one of the only surviving subjects and eternal life and an apple? There was a string of questions you were dying to know the answers to, but you didn’t know which to ask first.

And your brain helpfully supplied: “I’ve heard ‘an apple a day keeps the doctor away’, but why is this the one case where it’s done the absolute opposite?”

Stunned into silence, you want nothing more than to bury yourself beneath the covers and never come out. Ezio is staring at you, trying to properly process what you just said.

Then he’s laughing. More than laughing. Full-on guffawing and wiping tears from his eyes as he slumps down onto his knees as his torso relaxes into the mattress. Your face is burning as you clutch the covers over your face to hide from him and you wish you would wither away on the spot.

Through his fits of giggles, he waves away your defensive position.

“Please don’t be embarrassed. It’s just that I’ve never had such a positive response before.” You deflate only slightly in relief. “To answer your question, the dottore had an obsession with a device that has since been lost to this world called ‘The Apple of Eden’. It gave one many abilities that would’ve been the death of society as we know it if it fell into the wrong hands. And it’s something the Templars want to use for their ambitions. Doctor Malfatto-”

Ezio must’ve noticed the lost expression on your face because he sighed, readjusted himself into a more comfortable position on the edge of the bed, and took a gentle hold of your hands in his.

“After everything you’ve been through because of me, I will tell you everything, but only if you think you’re ready to hear it.”

The sentiment was touching, and very much appreciated. But you’ve come so far in the past evening that you’d be damned if you didn’t take the opportunity to get answers when they’re freely offered. So, you nod your head and tighten your fingers around his.

It took hours, and many breaks for food, for Ezio to explain it all to you, but you were enraptured by every second of it.

He’d started with his condition. Turns out that Bram Stoker’s ‘Dracula’ definitely held up in one aspect. Ezio did need to drink blood, human blood specifically, to gain superhuman strength. Otherwise, he’d been subsisting on animal blood, saying something about how the different cells in human and animal blood are the deciding factor on how nourishing they could be for him.

You were a little lost with the scientific explanation. But the alternative-diet explanation definitely helped sway a few worries.

He told you about the Assassins, the Templars, and the Old Civilization. He told you about the tragedy of his father and brothers. He told you about how, on what was supposed to be a simple mission to Rome, he’d been snatched off the street and had woken up, strapped to a table in the lair of Doctor Malfatto: a man notorious for killing and maiming courtesans for his own sick pleasure.

He’d told you of the horrific torture he’d been subject to (though you’re pretty sure he kept it a little more PG due to the fact that you looked like you were going to be sick all over again), things that the doctor performed on him more for fun than for experimentation. And how, after what seemed like months of torment, he’d finally achieved the unthinkable.

Until his prized possession was snatched away in a rescue led by Ezio’s uncle.

He talked about how, for years, no one noticed the changes that had subtly taken place. They chalked up his never-changing features to a form of eternal babyface. That is, until everyone got old and he hadn’t aged a day.

No one noticed his more bloodthirsty pursuit of his enemies, choosing to believe his newfound dedication had something to do with guilt over being missing for so long. Until his Uncle Mario found him on a dark, secluded rooftop, curled over a Venetian guard, blood soaking his robes and pooling around him as Ezio drank the poor man dry.

That night, years of pent up guilt, grief, and anger broke through the dam and his uncle held him as he sobbed through the night, feeling like a child again.

Mario promised that the new-found discovery would never reach his sister or his mother; or anyone else for that matter.

Then his uncle was killed and Ezio swore to avenge him and all of his family by dismantling the Templars one by one and wouldn’t stop until he’d gone through every last one of them.

Over the years, his fire for revenge had faded and morphed into caring for, and cultivating, the most beautiful pieces of history and art. Things that needed protection from the horrible things that this war in the shadows would inflict. It was a subject you found yourself resonating a lot with, and one of the things that led to you becoming a curator: to preserve the beauty in this world.

“I’m sorry for everything. You wouldn’t have been roped into this mess if I hadn’t showed up with you. Believe me that I would’ve never let you go if I knew what they were planning.” He takes your hand in his and you know that you don’t blame him for any of it. Something in you told you that you still wouldn’t have made it out of there even if you hadn’t shown up with him. With everything he’s told you about the Templars, you’re just relieved that he was there.

“I’m also sorry about this.” His other hand brushing against the bandages on your neck. “It was all I could think of to get us both out. And without it, I wouldn’t have been able to break out of those chains.”

The apology leaves your face heating up and his tracing of the gauze doesn’t lessen it. And the guilt that’s clear on his face makes your heart clench.

“...and after last night, it’s not safe for you here anymore.” That has you balking, staring in disbelief at the man before you. He’s since moved from the end of the bed to settle beside you at the head, moving to take your empty bowl of soup out of your lap.

“You’re joking, right?”

“Why would I be joking about something this serious?”

“I can’t just leave this– everything that’s happened– and everything you’ve told me– behind like I didn’t just experience something life-changing.” You adjust your positioning to face him properly and your knees knock against his, “So what, I’m supposed to go back to my job in America and pretend like this never happened?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

He’s right. What else can you do? You’re expected to be on a flight back in less than 24 hours, to a job you’ve always dreamed of having. But this? This is a once in a lifetime chance encounter. You can’t leave it behind like you hadn’t just bonded with the man, who’s running a soothing thumb over your knuckles, in a life or death situation.

“I’ll have to leave the country as well.” He continues, glancing around the space, already mentally saying goodbyes to the belongings in the room. “I won’t be away for long, but now that they know I’m in the country, it’s not safe for me here either. And I’ll…” He’s gazing wistfully off into space, but you don’t have to hear the rest of his sentence to know that he’ll be alone again.

And in that split-second, you decide.

“I’m staying.”

His eyes snap to yours. He’s about to argue with you, but you hold your palm up to silence him before he can start.

“I won’t be talked out of this. I’m going to go back to America, pack up my old life, and I’m coming back to join you, wherever you end up.” A genuine smile cracks at his lips, stretching the scar there and drawing your eyes toward it. “And besides, I’ll still be doing what I love; just with a super awesome 500-year old vampire assassin as my eternal escort.”

While it came out as a joke, the statement whispered in the stillness between you is meant more as a promise. His small breathy laugh, ghosts over you as he inspects the intention in your face.

Then there’s a hand smoothing over your cheek and cupping the back of your head before he’s pulling you into a gentle kiss that’s tinged with the promise of underlying passion. He pulls away with a content sigh, resting his forehead against yours and basking in your declaration. Your lips are tingling from the chill that’s left behind and you’re thinking the dangerous thought of I could definitely get used to that.

“I hope you’re aware of what you’re getting yourself into, mia cara.” The silky drop of his tone sends a thrill up your spine as he moves closer into your space.

“For you, mio caro, I’d get myself into much more.”

And he’s tugging you towards him again, not for the last time that night.

[ndoandou]

Isaac and Leonardo reacting to MC who is an astronaut and engineer in the 21st century

So how this all would start out: isaac and leonardo would be in the library trying to fix whatever complicated looking engine isaac had bought from a second hand shop.

Underestimating the complexity of the device, their brains were starting to fry itself. That's when MC came in.

"Good afternoon. You both seem in distress." MC said

Leonardo and isaac looked at her direction

"You could say so, this item is rather nasty to fix cara mia" leonardo said, tapping his finger on the table, trying to figure out his next step

"Indeed" isaac said letting out a huge sigh

She approached them, and her eyes immideately recognize what device they were tinkering

"Ah, i have seen simmilar machines from my time period- improved ones of course." Mc said

"Im positive that i can fix this for you both." MC said as she sat down next to them

Leonardo and isaac wasn't expecting this from her.

Trusting her, isaac and leonardo gave the tools to her

She examined the contents of the machine, both the interior and the exterior. She started dismantling the interior as it seems like things were inserted and screwed in in the wrong order and places.

Both isaac and leonardo looked at her, full of amazement, observing every move she took.

Taking a new piece of gear and chains from the toolbox, she fitted it into the machine.

She flicked the small lever on the side, immideately the gear started spinning slowly, picking up pace. eventually the machine rumbled, once again full of life.

Their eyes widen

"Impressive, cara mia!" Leonardo said as he ruffled her hair

"How..did you just do that so easily?" Isaac asked in disbelieve

"Im familiar with such. im an astronaut, and engineering is one of the things i had to master." She explained

"Pardon? An astro? Astrona..ut?" Isaac asked, unfammiliar with that word

He glanced over to leonardo who shrugged

"Oh, i forgot such term didn't exist in both of your time periods!" MC exclaimed in realization

"An astronaut is someone who travel in space. i specifically work in the space station- to make it sound simple, its like this special building that stays in the earth's low orbit." She explained

They both froze and tried to process what she had just explained

Issac and leonardo looked at each other

"Did.. i hear that right? Up in space you say?" Isaac asked making sure he wasn't going bonkers

Both geniuses were at disbelief

"Yes! We travel to space using this vehicle called a rocket! I could explain more in depth- but before that, i have some photographs i could show you both. Are you guys intere-"

"Yes!" They both exclaimed, eyes sparkling up

Mc looked at them and giggled

"Alright, give me a minute. I will go fetch them." MC said as she exited the room.

MC came back with a book, her diary specifically. It was jammed with many photograph, some even stuck out of the book.

"Alright- additional information for you both, photographs from my time period are also advanced. By that, i mean that the pictures are coloured and crystal clear" MC said

"Cara mia, im beyond surprised. You might as well end up giving me a heart attack with anything you say" leonardo joked as he lit up a ciggarillo

"Dont worry leo, the only thing that will be giving you a heart attack is your ciggarilos" MC joked back causing leonardo to choke while isaac snorted slightly, surpressing a laugh.

"Alright! Back to the topic"

Mc revealed the pictures she had with her, starting from her in her space suit, the space station, earth from above, rockets, and an image her colegue took when she was outside the space station, working on it.

The pure enthusiasm isaac showed was immaculate

He sounds way out of character with how enthustiastic he was

He was practically smiling and grinning like a child in a candy store

Isaac was particularly interested with how the space station worked as well as how the space suit worked.

Leonardo on the other hand didn't have that lazy voice when he spoke

His voice was more lively than ever

His eyes were even wide and bright with life

Leonardo would be most interested with the rocket as in his younger days, he was obsessed with the possibility of humans flying up in the sky with some sort of aircraft. He even made sketches of how he envisioned them.

He would question the types of aircrafts that existed in her time period

"The 21st century... sure is something" leonardo said

"Agreed, agreed." Isaac said

Eversince that encounter, whenever three of them hung out, they would talk about space, physics, engineering, theories, maths, and even the possibility of alien life- basically some cool kid stuff going on 😎

MC would also tell them how humans have landed on the moon, once again melting their brains

Eventually the residents will grow curious about the three of them dissapearing for a long period of time on some days

To them it seems like MC, leo and isaac had formed some sort of cult considering how out of character leo and isaac sounded o.o

In the end, the three of them explained what was going on to whoever was curious about their little "cult"

Probably everyones brain froze trying to process the information they were told- well except comte and sebastian xD

[mansions-maiden]

Helloooww againnnnn xD

Thank you so much for taking my request before (arthur mc switch place). Sooo i wanna request again if you have timeeee xD

About young mc was a mischievous kid, problem child and often got spanked by her mom back then. So i wanna request the scenario of mc suddenly become a little girl and 12 of them will dealing with her shit*y mischievous behavior xD. Kinda wanna see they got tired and traumatic to have children xD

Thank you so much before and i love you so muchhhhh ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

this was so much fun to write! and sorry it was late! I was busy with school work and the first draft got deleted. so had to rewrite it from the scratch. T-T. wrote it long as a compensation! Enjoy the reading! And second request from the same person! Love you too❤💕

word count: 2K.

The sun rose in the east and dyed the streets of 19th century France in it’s orange hue. Sebastian went to wake MC up as she didn’t wake up yet.

*rap rap* “MC! wake up! It’s morning already!” , he knocked MC bedroom’s door for sometime and yet, there was no answer from the other side. Worried, he went to comte and grabbed the spare keys to MC’s room.

He went inside and searched for mc. But when she couldn’t be found anywhere, he called for comte and Leonardo. Hearing his calls, Leo and comte immediately came running into the room, only to find a small girl child, fast asleep amidst the silky bedsheets.

The three men looked at each other before Leonardo gently picked up the girl in his arms. A crescent smile crawled on to their lips at the sight of the little girl.

Comte took the girl from Leonardo's arms and put her on his hip, wrapping an arm around her little waist.

"who is this little girl? Where did MC go?" Comte asked looking around the room.

The girl woke up from her slumber due to all voices and movements. The three men stared at her. " Hey Leo, why do I get a feeling that this little girl is MC? her eyes look the same as our mc..ow!" Comte cried in pain while speaking as MC was pulling his blonde locks of hair painfully.

Leo laughed at Comte and Sebastian quietly snickered before composing himself and spoke" M.comte, I think we should explain the situation to residents too."

"You're right Sebastian. I shall inform them. " Comte said, finally freeing his hair from MC's grip.

MC was giggling to herself loudly.

(Aand mama Comte and papa Leonardo mode have been activated )

All the residents stared at the new arrivals in the dining hall.

" Goodness Comte! When did you become father? Congratulations on becoming father of 13 members!" Arthur spoke from one end of the table with a mischievous grin.

"stop it Arthur. I am no one's father. And this little girl here is our MC. Looks like she took something that changed her into her childhood self". Comte said with a little frown as he took his seat.

"oh really!? MC is so cute! Come here little girl!" Vincent aka the gentle angel took her from Comte and sat her on the table. "Do you want bread lil doll?" Vincent asked, giving her the baguette.

MC threw the baguette on the other side of the table ( I can hear the sound of Comte's breaking heart seeing his favorite dish being thrown away XD. )

The baguette smacked Mozart's face and a disappointed sigh was heard from him ." It's only morning and I have to deal with little MC's ruckus? She already causes enough trouble in original form.." Mozart said.

"Mama! Papa! Give me chocolates!" MC went to Comte and tugged at his cloak with her little hands.

"wait! Why the hell is she calling you mama and papa!?" Theo asked with a surprised tone to which Leonardo replied with a shrug and laugh.

“sebastian? can you buy her some chocolates? “ comte asked. Sebastian immediately went into the town. 

"You're soo cute Toshiko- little mc! I want to squish you in my arms!" Dazai said as he poked her cheeks and suddenly, a shrill scream of pain escaped his mouth. " Ahh~! Why did you bite my hand !? " Dazai screamed again looking at the red bite mark appearing on his fingers.

"No one touches mc!" Mc squealed and jumped on to the floor and began running. "Catch me if you can!" Mc ran out of the dining room and disappeared into the gardens.

Arthur, Vincent and Napoleon were soon on their feet searching for mc. "Now, where did this sneaky little girl go?!" Arthur said, wiping the sweat beads on his forehead. That's when the three heard heard the adorable giggles of a child.

They saw mc, covered in mud from tip to toe and Arthur's and Theo's dogs running and playing with her.

"Gotcha!" "Ahh~ Arthur! Hehee!" Mc squealed and wriggled , trying to escape from Arthur's grasp.

"hey! W-what are you doing?!" Arthur exclaimed suddenly as he found himself getting covered in dirt by mc. " Wowee! Noe Arthur us dirty! Napoleon! Shoo him away and throw him in the bath"

"Go and freshen up Arthur. I'll take care of her" Napoleon told Arthur and sent him into the mansion.

" Napoleon! Bend down! Bend down! Gimme a piggy back ride! "

"wai- woah!!" Napoleon was surprisingly pulled down by MC by his Cape.

And that's how MC had a whole tour of mansion with Napoleon as her personal horse.

The sun rose further into the sky and soon it was afternoon. All the vampires gathered at the dining table including Shakespeare, who was invited for lunch by Vincent.

Shakespeare heard the giggles of a child. "Why doth I hear the giggles of a child in thy mansion Comte? " Shakespeare asked searching for the source of the voice.

"our MC has turned into a child Will. Those giggles are of our MC." Vincent explained what had happened from the morning.

" oh- looks like destiny has strange ways of entertaining herself.." Shakespeare murmured to no one and called out for MC.

"Shakespeare! You're here. I have some stories for you. Do you want to listen?" Mc asked running into the dining hall.

"what may those stories be little Angel?" Shakespeare asked, making her sit in the chair next to his.

" Do you know, Theo has sweet tooth secretly. He even fills his entire pancakes with sugar syrup! He dips everything he finds in sugar syrup.! And he wants Vincent  to love only him!”

"oi little Hondje ! What do you think you're blabbering about?!" Theo rose from his seat, as he stopped  eating his sugar syrup dipped pan cakes. XD .

"Vincent! Protect me from your darling brother!" MC said hiding behind Shakespeare and sticking her tongue out at Theo.

The mansion reverberated with the laughter of residents as she went on and on telling her stories , which had some of the most embarrassing stories of residents and had left residents with burning cheeks.

After lunch, Theo called little mc and took her out into the town along with his dog King. “ MC! come here! Don’t go wandering off!” Theo was having hard time catching mc and looking after his King at the same time.

“THEO! Come here! You must see this! It’s so cute!!” MC approached Theo and dragged him by his arm. Theo turned to stone as soon as he saw what had caught the sight of mc. “Theo! Theo? ...Hello..Theo!” MC shook Theo by his arm and Theo immediately looked down at her with a flustered gaze,” Why would you want to show me a cat?! You little rascal!” Theo bent down to reach mc’s height. “Oh.. Are you afraid of cats? I’m sorry! I didn’t know that.. but! OH! I gotta tell this to all the members!”

“Don’t you dare!” Theo now ran after MC as she sped off towards mansion. Her mischief kept all the residents on high alert their toes and they didn’t even realize it was evening.

When mc was roaming through the corridors, she found Leonardo fast asleep near the library doors again and  a sudden idea popped in her mind. She woke up Leonardo and gave him a glass of water. “ Leo! I thought you might be thirsty. So I brought you a glass of water!”

Unable to resist her puppy dog eyes, he took a sip of water, only to spit it out the next instant .” What did you mix in this cara mia?!”

“uh-oh! I think  I mixed the salt without my knowledge. Thank you for saving my tongue Leo!” mc said laughing and ran off into the corridors.

Sebastian was in kitchen, cooking dinner  when he felt his waistcoat being tugged. “ Hey, peasant! Bow down to the queen! “ MC posed as a queen with crown stolen taken from comte’s room. “ Your lovely highness, I’m afraid you’re not a queen yet. But the princess of this mansion does deserve a treat. Here” Sebastian told as he kept a chocolate bar in her mouth. A sweet moan escaped her mouth as the chocolate melted in her mouth. “ Yours truly is satisfied peasant! You may continue your work!” MC said as she went off, still chewing off the chocolate in her mouth.

“It looks as if looking MC is much harder than all the 11 vampires combined together..” he sighed as he murmured to himself.

after sometime:

Isaac heard a soft knock on his door and he opened it, and found little mc with her hands behind her back and mischief dancing in her eyes. “I am here to give you this” MC said with a smile as she gave him  a paper. A sour face was made by Isaac as soon as he saw the paper she gave. “What is this?! Not you too!” Isaac cried out as he saw the drawing of Isaac saying, “I love apples” and many more drawings related to apples.

“OH MC! COME HERE!” Isaac shouted as MC ran away, laughing loudly on her way. The residents heard the commotion and came outside, only to find Isaac with a flustered gaze and panting heavily. “Who told mc about apples and me?! Now even she joined in Arthur’s cult!” Isaac told everyone and everyone burst out laughing.

Comte called her into his room and sate her in the chair across him as he asked,” Cherie? Here you go , I bought this for you. “ Comte said as he gave her the new dresses and chocolates.

“ aah!! Comte! thank you so much!! You’re my mama!!” Mc squealed as she hugged comte’s knees.  She stretched out her hand and told, “mama! say aah!” comte opened his mouth and soon found out that she had given him a chocolate. He took her into his arms and sat her on his lap, kissing her nose and forehead affectionately.

After dinner:

MC was on the couch yawning  and scrunching her eyes when comte and Mozart found her. “Are you sleepy cherie? Would you like to sleep?” Comte asked, bending down. “Yes..” “ I shall play a lullaby then. Will you listen to it MC? “ . “yeah...” mc yawned again.

Mozart told comte to follow him into his music room with mc. Mozart began playing  lullaby as soft as the wind chimes in the windy night on his piano. Comte ran his fingers through the hairs of mc as he watched her fall asleep, with her head in his lap with a smile on his face. ‘could this day get any better?’ he thought to himself as continued petting her head.

After MC fell asleep, he carried her gently in  a princess carry into the hall where everyone is gathered.

“Is she asleep?” everyone looked at mc’s sleeping face with adoration as Napoleon asked. “ I can’t believe she has the nerve to sleep after keeping us on our feet the entire day.” Theo sighed .

“ I do agree..she’s such a handful kid.. But it is the most refreshing day and most adorable thing I’ve ever seen”  Arthur said, stretching his hands above his head and laughed.

“I can’t believe one of the most feared emperor  ended up becoming a personal horse for a little girl” napoleon said rubbing his still aching back and shoulders.

“Does anyone want to have a kid here in the mansion?” Sebastian asked with a curious gaze.

“No! Having mc already in her original form is enough to us. She’s just like a big grown up baby. “ Leonardo said with a smile.

“I’m so glad that everyone thinks of MC the same way” Comte said laughing.

“We all are tired today due to her. Let’s call it a day guys..” Everyone retired to their own rooms and comte put her to sleep in her room before going to his room.

Next day, mc was back in her own form with no memories of the previous day. But everyone kept their mouths sealed for they wanted to hide their smile whenever they saw her and were mesmerized by her innocence.

[witching-by-the-willow]

I would love if a dark haired, tattooed prince of hell, who is one of the seven deadliest sins asked me to tell him that he's my favourite sin

[witching-by-the-willow]

bitches be like, oh he's my favourite book boyfriend love of my life I would let him wreck me, and it's the literal Devil.

it's me i'm bitches

[feysandfeels]

"Cara mia SQUAD" is not strong enough a word, Lu... We're basically started a cult now. 😌

Yeah you know what Niki? Cara mia Cult has a better ring to it, and we all know I like a good alliteration.

Yes I'm sold

Cara mia Cult.