#purple creature and her blonde wife <3

[macchiatobearr]

them <3

#my art #fgo #fate series #digital art #ibispaint #caffeinated bear draws #master oc #mastersona #oc artwork #oc x canon #master and her emotional support paladin #purple creature and her blonde wife <3 #astolfo #fate astolfo #fionn mac cumhaill #fate fionn #assignments are draining me but the silly blorbos give me strength #Maei Desrosiers #Olivia Honig

[ravennm84]

Serafina II

Part 1     Part 3

The 2nd installment of the “Marinette’s Haunted Doll” series. I was seriously shocked by how much response I got from part one, so I hope this lives up to your expectations. Blood, gore, and death are coming, along with some mental freak-outs. You have been warned. 

Part II

Despite wanting to stay with Marinette to comfort the girl after the tearful apologies by Mylene and Ivan, Serafina couldn’t return until her work was finished. There was still much to do and people to punish. 

She arrived early with Mylene, which allowed her to observe the others that entered the classroom. Kim had returned to school that day in a wheelchair. The cast on his leg went up to his waist and the one on his arm went up to his bicep. His face and exposed skin were covered in bruises and his right eye looked like it had blood in it. 

“How are you feeling, dude?” Nino asked him as he entered alongside Adrien.

“Really sore,” the boy admitted. “Doctors had to reset my leg at the knee and said that my arm was a three piece offset fracture, so they had to use screws to put it back in place. Other than that; had a concussion, a lot of bruises, and a couple cuts; but no internal bleeding or ruptured organs. They said after a few months and some physical therapy, I should be as good as new.”

Nino gave him a solemn nod. “Glad to hear you’re going to be okay, dude.”

Kim’s expression dropped a bit. “I heard about Alya, I’m really sorry, man.”

The boy lowered his head while Adrien patted his back. “I really… I can’t believe she’s gone because of some freak accident. It makes no sense!” Nino jumped to his feet and started pacing as more students filed in. “I mean, she wasn’t supposed to die like that! Getting caught up in an akuma battle, childhood disease, there would be a reason for that! But that was just pointless!”

Mme. Bustier did attempt to calm him down, but her kind words fell on deaf ears before he grabbed his bag and left the room. No one could blame him, and only Adrien followed to make sure he would be alright, and to make sure he wasn’t akumatized.

Lila came in not long after with a curious bag in her hands. Serafina watched the liar as she looked around the room. She had a feeling that the liar would try something after her last attempt to frame Marinette had failed. When the girl tried speaking to Mylene, the doll was proud to see the girl refuse to acknowledge her as she continued to speak with Rose and Juleka. When it was clear that she was being ignored, she tried speaking to Ivan, only for him to give her a harsh glare that had her shuffling backwards. With Max and Alix still at the hospital and Adrien not in the room, that left her with Sabrina. The redhead had been sitting alone at the front of the room since Chloe had transferred schools after the Miracle Queen incident.

“Hi Sabrina, how are you doing?”

The girl smiled up at the italian, glad to still have a friend. “I’m doing okay, at least a lot better than a lot of our class. I heard Max lost sight in his one eye from the chemicals and Alix might have to have cosmetic surgery to get her face back to normal. At least Kim might be back to normal in a few months after going through physical therapy. But Alya…”

Lila faked her tears at the mention of her lost follower. She was really more annoyed than sad, Alya was easily manipulated, went along with everything she said, and Lila had been able to use her blog to build up her popularity. And the girl had been a decent attack dog, just point her at someone and off she went. Now that she was dead, maybe she could turn Sabrina into her new lead follower, she was already partially trained and it wasn’t like the blonde bitch was around anymore.

“I know, it’s so terrible. She was my first friend when I moved here, it’ll be so hard without her,” she faked a few more tears. And just like that, Sabrina took her hand in comfort and said a bunch of soothing words while she continued to fake cry. 

After a moment, Lila placed the bag she’d been holding on the desk and pushed it away from her, making sure the action caught Sabrina’s attention. “What’s that?”

Lila fake sobbed even harder, hiding her face in her hands. “Ma-Marinette, she-she said it was m-my fault that Alya’s dead. She practically threw that bag at me and said to use it,” she said before breaking down in more fake sobs.

Carefully opening the bag, she gasped when she saw it was full of razor blades and a couple of kitchen knives. Sure, she knew that Marinette didn’t get along with Lila, but to actually give this to her and tell her to ‘use it’? How could she be so cruel?

Serafina scowled as the red head hugged the liar and promised her that she would take care of it. Her anger erupted as Sabrina stood from her desk with the bag in hand, and began walking towards Mme. Bustier’s desk. The girl didn't take two steps before tripping over nothing and falling onto her side. Luckily, she did not land on the bag. Unluckily, she gripped it too tight and the impact forced the knives and razors through the bag and deep into her hands.

The girl screamed and cried as blood rushed out of the wounds and down into her sleeves. She begged Lila to help her, but the italian backed away from the girl in shock. Mme. Bustier gripped her head between her hands and began saying “not again, not again” before running out of the room. The only ones that helped her were Juleka, Rose and Ivan; the smaller girl sprinting off to alert the nurse and the principal, while Juleka and Ivan got Sabrina to her feet. Ivan kept the girl upright and moving out the door while Juleka held the girl’s hands above the level of her heart to keep her from bleeding too much.

Those left in the classroom were in shock as they stared at either the door or at the blood staining the floor. No one said anything for a long time, not even Lila. She hadn’t thought anyone would get hurt. She just thought she would get Marinette suspended and everyone would be on her side again. Adrien returned before the others, completely shocked when he saw the blood and Kim explained to him what had happened. The blonde sent a scathing look at Lila but said nothing.

It was a while later before Rose, Ivan, and Juleka returned to class, along with M. Rupere. He informed them that their classes were cancelled for today. “After everything that has occurred this week, I’ve decided that all of you will be meeting with the counselor today. He will decide if more sessions are necessary and for who, but his door and mine are open if you need to talk. M. Deveraux will come to speak with you one at a time. Kim Le Chien, he had requested to speak with you first. Mlle. Rossi,” he looked sternly at the girl, “would you please follow me, we need to talk about the incident with Sabrina Raincomprix.”

Serafina smiled as the liar trudged out of the room after the man. She was satisfied with Sabrina’s punishment and doubted if Mme. Bustier would last another day before having a total mental breakdown. She also knew that Lila would be in even more trouble after M. Rupere looked into the girl a bit more. But just to make sure, Serafina touched her on the way out. To most people, that would do nothing; but to someone like Lila, it would cause her to become more and more unhinged until she did something drastic. Very soon, Lila would be out of the picture and those deserving of punishment will have paid their debts.

~oOo~

It was more difficult sneaking home with Adrien than she had expected, especially with the tiny god of Chaos and Destruction in his bag. Plagg was his name, and he was very defensive of his kitten and had threatened to cataclysm her. Serafina told him that she would not purposefully harm his ‘kitten’, but there was something she had to take care of at the Agreste Mansion. The doll had long suspected that Gabriel Agreste is Hawkmoth and she was going to find out tonight if it was true. Plagg was reluctant to agree since it would hurt Adrien; but if it was true, they had to put an end to it.

After arriving at the mansion, Plagg easily convinced the boy to sneak out and check on Nino. After he left, Serafina sensed something on Adrien’s desk. Being an enchanted/haunted object, she could sense other objects like herself… such as Miraculous jewels. And right there on the desk was a pin shaped like a peacock, one of the jewels that had been missing and used by Mayura. If there had been any doubts before about who had been terrorizing Marinette, they were gone. 

Tucking the pin into her small outfit, she began to search the building, starting with Gabriel’s office. She had expected the man to be present, but he was missing. And given that Hawkmoth was a very active user, she had no doubt that he kept his jewel on him at all times. So, she waited.

It was about an hour later that Gabriel Agrest entered the room, and not from the door Serafina had expected. The man had a secret entry in the floor in front of a portrait of a woman. He was muttering on knowing better than to use Bubbler again, but that the negative emotions had been too strong to ignore. She also saw the purple kwami hovering over his shoulder, but the creature stopped when it sensed her. Gabriel strode out of the room, barely noticing that Nooroo had stayed behind and flew over to the doll hiding behind the desk.

“What are you doing here? If the Master finds you, he will destroy you.” The kwami said with worry.

The doll conveyed that she knew that his master was Hawkmoth, just as her human was Ladybug. She was here to protect her and return the butterfly and peacock miraculous to their rightful place. Also knowing that Gabriel had become too corrupted for his miraculous.

“I’ve tried to tell him that the wish would be dangerous,” Nooroo told her with downcast eyes. “He wants to make a wish to revive his wife, but he doesn’t realize that the cost would be to put Adrien, someone he loves equally as much as Emilie, into the same state of death. She isn’t even truly alive anymore, her body only lives because of the machine she is in.”

An idea spawned in Serafina’s thoughts and she barely kept herself from smiling. She asked Nooroo to help her activate the secret passage so she could get to his wife, but the little kwami shook his head. “Even if I could get you down there, the motion sensors would trip and he would attack you.”

Smiling this time, Serafina promised the little god that Gabriel would not attack her. That she would make sure that Adrien would be safe and the two kwami’s would go to their rightful place. All he had to do was help her open the door. Although reluctant and slightly scared, the little god opened the door, hoping that the nightmare would finally end. 

Down in the lair, the doll saw the mechanical coffin placed in the center of the room and went to it. The motion sensors caught her quickly, but she had been planning on moving fast anyway. Opening the coffin, she settled herself into the woman’s arms. Nooroo had been right, Serafina could sense that the woman’s soul had departed from her body a while ago and it was only the machine that was keeping her body alive. With no other soul to contend with, this would make what she was about to do next all the easier.

Nathalie had called to alert him the moment the alarms went off in the lair while she and Simone were out on an errand. He was moving faster than he could remember with Nooroo following close behind. Gabriel transformed on the way down, prepared to attack whoever had stumbled in, but his breath caught in his throat halfway down when he got a good view of the room. 

The coffin was empty.

Rushing forward, he began frantically searching the room for his wife, calling her name. He turned to rush back upstairs and froze. Standing behind him, looking dazed, was his wife. Her eyes were unfocused and her arms were hugging her middle, but it was her. Dropping his transformation, Gabriel cautiously approached her and she flinched back from him. It took a few minutes and a lot of gentle coaxing before he was able to wrap an arm around her shoulders and lead her to the elevator. When they got to his office, he watched her carefully as she began walking around the room. He wanted her to sit down and rest, but he was still in shock that she was awake and standing in front of him.

Eventually, her green eyes met his. “Where’s Adrien?”

“I… I don’t know, he should be up in his room.”

Emilie’s head tilted slightly, her eyes searching his. “What have you done? Did you make the wish?”

“No, my love. I was going to when I got the jewels, but Ladybug and Chat Noir evaded me.”

Tears grew in her eyes as she continued to stare at him. “You tried to make the wish? Knowing that it would have cost our son’s life?” 

Gabriel froze. He hadn’t known that wishing Emilie to come back would cost Adrien’s… but Nooroo had tried to tell him. He remembered the kwami trying to tell him about the cost and he had forced him to not speak. “I’m sorry, Emilie. I didn’t-”

“You knew,” she interrupted, her voice lacking any emotion as she continued to stare at him. “You knew from the beginning that what you were doing was wrong, evil. You chose to ignore what it would cost.”

“Emilie, my love, please don’t say such things,” Gabriel begged as he rushed forward to wrap his arms around her. “All I have wanted since the day I lost you, was to hold you in my arms again and hear your voice. I was lost without you and was willing to go to the ends of the earth to bring you back. Is that so wrong?”

He had just barely met her eyes when he felt the twin pains in his arms. Jumping back, he looked down to see both wrists had been cut deeply with a pair of his fabric cutting scissors. Blood was draining from the wounds at an alarming rate. His hands were shaking and he was already feeling light headed as he grabbed a handful for fabric from his work table in an attempt to slow the blood. He wanted to call out for help, but they were alone. 

His eyes grew hazed as he looked to Emilie, surprised that she was staring at him with such contempt. “I know what you’ve been doing while I was in that coffin. Tormenting the city and people I love, isolating our son and treating him like a burden. If you had ever succeeded in getting the Cat and Ladybug miraculous, it would have destroyed Paris. But you didn’t care. As you said, all you cared about was hearing my voice and holding me in your arms. Congratulations, your wish came true, and you will be the one to pay the price. Not Adrien.”

His legs gave out from under him as the fabrics dripped from the excess blood. He couldn’t understand how this had happened, Emilie would have never done something like this… but was this really her? With his vision fading, he took a hard look at his wife, only now noticing the dullness of her eyes, the greying pallor of her skin, and the fact that she only seemed to breathe when she spoke… “Who are you?”

Her head tilted again, the corner of her mouth lifting slightly. “Serafina. Quite astute of you to figure that out in your state. Your wife’s soul passed on a long time ago, all you have been doing is preserving a corpse. And I was telling the truth; even if you had made the wish, it would have cost Adrien his life.” Her hand shot forward, removing the butterfly miraculous before he could stop her. “Your actions have hurt someone close to me and I could no longer stand back and allow it to happen.”

She stood, walking to his desk to pull out a piece of paper and writing something down before neatly folding it and leaving it on his desk.

“Wh… What…”

“You just wrote a letter to Adrien; admitting what happened to his mother, that you were Hawkmoth, and the reason why you did what you did.” She said calmly before looking back at him. “Whether he tells the rest of the world is up to him. As for the miraculous, I will give him a chance at redemption. Though if he should fail, you may be seeing him sooner rather than later. Either way, they will soon be back where they belong, with the guardian. And you, good sir, have just committed suicide after bringing your wife’s body upstairs, so you would be able to hold her in your arms as you died.”

Unable to sit upright anymore, Gabriel barely felt his body collapse to the floor. He was hardly aware of Emilie lifting one of his arms to tuck her body to his side. The last thing he was aware of was something that he swore would haunt him in the afterlife; a porcelain doll emerging from the folds of her clothes and standing beside them. It stood there on its own, watching him until he could no longer keep his eyes open and he took his final breath.

Taglist (even longer):

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#lila salt #lila gets exposed #lila karma #Marinette deserves better #gabrielagreste #hawkmoth #bustier salt #class salt

[ddagent]

Addams Family × Braime? The level of passion Gomez has for Morticia and raising their two badass terror children.

I’m not sure how this will come out, but enjoy!

It was an unfortunate morning: Jaime Lannister woke to the sun streaming in through his bedroom windows. The thunderstorm of the previous night had cleared, and he woke to a cloudless sky and warm rays of light. Ghastly. Slipping from his bed, Jaime moved to close the heavy crimson drapes. He did not wish the morning light to disturb his slumbering wife, laid bare upon the mattress he had just departed. He prayed to the Gods for rain and thunder, before turning back to his wife. 

Oh, what a marvellous thing she was. 

Brienne Lannister stirred against the onyx sheets; pale limbs flexing and relaxing in equal measure. Jaime wet his top lip as he stared upon his wife; the only ray of light he would gladly welcome into his home. Oh, how he’d pined for her. Days and nights of torture lusting for a shard of starlight who would never dream of accompanying Jaime back to the crumbling castle of Casterly Rock. But she was here. She’d taken his scarlet cloak around her shoulders and she’d carried not one but two of their children. She welcomed him into her bed and into her heart. 

Blue eyes snapped open, immediately seeking his. “Jaime.” 

“Good morning, Lady Lannister.” He pounced on their bed like the lion he was. “How did you sleep, Sweetling?”

“I had terrible dreams.” 

Jaime grinned. “Me too.” 

A flash of blue, and then Jaime’s back was pressed against the mattress. His wife straddled his bare hips; her tall frame looming over his. Jaime had been smitten from the first time she had knocked his foil clear across the room; the blunt edge of her blade digging into the soft flesh of his throat. She was singular in appearance as well as heart: the men of this world were cruel; the women unkind. But as Jaime had often told his wife when he’d courted her: there are no men like me, only me. 

Jaime growled as his wife pinned his hands to the pillows. He bucked his hips. “Yes. Yes. Last night, you were...unhinged. You were like some desperate, unyielding creature of the night. You frightened me.” Her grip on his wrists tightened, and Jaime let out a low moan. “Do it again.” 

And so she did. Held him against the mattress and took her pleasure from his cock, his mouth. It was only as the morning light grew that Brienne granted him his release. The world shook around him as he came. Brienne then left with a kiss to his lips and pulled a crimson robe over endless miles of creamy skin. He watched Brienne part the drapes for a glimpse of the sun; his darling wife a creature of light, of starlight, no matter how much his darkness had corrupted her. 

“Shall we dance later, Sweetling?” 

“Of course. But first, breakfast.” 

“We’ve worked up quite the appetite.” 

Jaime offered his darling wife a wink, before finding soft pants and a matching maroon robe. They walked to the kitchen arm-in-arm; Lord Lannister unable to keep his hands from his lady wife. As soon as they left their room, however, they were accosted by the screams and shrieks of their children. Joanna was playing with rope again; her younger brother Brynden’s pale face now purple. 

“Joanna,” Jaime chastised. 

“What? I said sword or noose, he said noose!” 

Brienne shook her head fondly, and ruffled her daughter’s blonde hair. She stared at Brynden. “Both of you need to work on your skills with a blade. We’ll practice later, with Gregor.” 

The Mountain stood, motionless, by the front door. A former man of Jaime’s father, and a man of few words, Gregor was often used as target practice for the children. Jaime offered his wife a helping hand over the last step whilst Brynden crashed to the foyer floor. He gasped, and said, “Can you teach me how to do that knot?” 

“Later, son, it’s time for breakfast.” Jaime hustled their children into the kitchen. 

As his family settled around the oak kitchen table, Jaime left a series of kisses up and down his wife’s arm. After the death of his sister, and the disappearance of his beloved brother, Jaime thought this house would remain empty. That he would remain empty. But his beloved had filled his life with love and laughter once again, and he would duel anyone who dared to speak ill of Lady Lannister. 

As the three fresh graves in the cemetery would testify.

#braime #jaime x brienne #anonymous #mine: paragraph prompts #ship: braime #i am not sure what this is

[shadowdianne]

8 i want 8 please give me 8 \o/

Number 8 translantes to: “Can you start from thebeginning of the story? I need to know how your night ended with not only one,but two lions in the bathtub, glow in the dark silly string drapping over thefurniture and a frivolous amount of fruitcakes. No one in this house even eatsfruitcake.

So, you know, let’s make this interesting 

-glances at the story- Well xd I hope you like it.It certainly was a challenge…

But as much as I like to complaint thank you somuch for sending it

The brightlight of the kitchen glimmered against the isle the two women were seated at,Regina’s purple magic still hovering above them and the brunette did her bestnot to laugh a little at Emma’s state, silly string stuck between her locks,

Emma grumbled as she took one piece of theaforementioned fruitcake, biting it quickly and wincing at the taste as Reginarose one brow, arms crossed in front of her chest.

She,fortunately for the woman in front of her, was still more shocked than angry,the roars of the lions echoing on her ears even if those had been taken awaythe second she had arrived from work, meetings with various nobles discardedfrom her mind as she saw the first of the half-dozen fruitcakes that hadeventually lead to a very pale Emma holding the doorknob of the bathroom withdirty white colored wisps already beginning to form on her fingers, coilingaround their matching rings.

“I canexplain this.” She had said, barely a mutter and Regina had wanted to believeit even if the ghostly-looking strings draped around her furniture made itquite complicated for her.

So now,fingers drumming against her forearm, she watched silently as Emma pushed thefruitcake away, look of distaste on her face as she magicked a small glass ofwater.

“Thiswasn’t going to end like this.” She managed to say after swallowing what seemedto be a rather chunk of cake. Internally, the brunette winced; she had neveracquired the taste of the fruitcake either, too sand-like.

Instead,she kept a straight face as Emma sighed and run a hand over her hair, gruntlingas her fingers caught on the beginning to melt string. Snapping her fingers,the silly string disappeared in a similar fashion than when Regina had magickedit away from over the wooden paneling of their house, not leaving a tracebehind but a small smudge the brunette truly hoped it would be out with asecond snap.

Humming,she waited until Emma looked up again, the shadow of a shy smile on her lips.

“You knowthis was going to be my day off.” She began, and Regina could see and feel thenervousness she emanated; rolling off her like magical waves she felt drumminginside of her, pulsing through her veins. Grateful that the blonde seemed tohave her magic under control, she merely nodded, urging her to continue.

Pressingher index finger against her thumb, Emma glanced down until the skin around hernail turned white. Something, the brunette realized, that was very much likeHenry. Which was something that ordinally would have made her smile but nottoday.

“Clearlysomething happened.” She replied, and Emma let out a small chortle that didn’tquite rose too far.

“Thefairies happened.” She finally answered, shrugging as Regina blinked twice,confused. “I know. Blue came; said she wanted me to use my magic to…” Emma clickedher tongue and put her elbows on the island’s surface, running her right handover her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose brusquely before letting itfall, the resulting sound unnaturally loud. “I didn’t fully understand it.Something about a fairy ring. Said she wanted a ritual.”

“And theritual was calling for two lions and fruitcakes?”

Reginacouldn’t help the disbelieving undertone on her voice neither the way shewidened her eyes. Not that she didn’t trust Emma but asking for lions would bea first for the smarmy fairy. Albeit, she supposed quickly as Emma shook herhead, pointing at the fruitcakes with an open palm, it would make sense for thewoman to come when she knew she wasn’t going to be at home. The woman hadn’treally understood how Emma had ended up marrying her. Too many fate-breakinginvolved.

“Thefruitcakes.” Replied Emma. “Were part of the ritual. Something about offeringit to the power that co-exists within the Enchanted Forest. They wanted my magic,so I could keep the portal or whatever that was stabilized.”

Reginagrowled but nodded; an offering didn’t sound that strange. Not for the fairiesat least.

“And thelions and silly string?”

Emma letout a long-suffering sigh that made her have an eerily resemblance with Henryand motioned once again towards the cakes, huffing as she did so.

“Did youknow that Granny’s fruitcakes are made not only with brandy but with rum?”

Truth to betold, if it hadn’t been their house the one which had suffered the vandalizingRegina would have started laughing before calling everyone around her an idiot.Now, as she started to put the pieces together, she only snickered inwardly.

“Are youtelling me.” She began. “That after they asked you to pay for the fruitcakesyou ended up getting the fairies drunk?”

Emma’s neckand face turned red as she flushed, the quiet “yes” that followed making Reginahide an amused snort behind her left hand.

“I didn’tknow what they were going to do.” The blonde started. “And I didn’t know how tomake them, so I just went to Granny’s…”

“And thenyou gave them to the fairies.” Regina finished quickly, already picturing howthat had went. On the Enchanted Forest it wasn’t as common to leave milk orhoney outside for the fairies but, on some places, it was common enough for thestories to travel along the merchants that had, sometimes, tried to sell somethingback when she had been little. As long as the fairies, the merchants said,sometimes lowering their voices, trying to get them raspy enough to scare asmall girl as they told their tales, didn’t consume any alcohol they could bereasonable to deal with. Maybe even getting them to grant you a wish even ifyou weren’t royalty. As soon as they were drunk, however… all bets were off.And the worst thing was that the creatures absolutely loved to get drunk.

Which wasone of the many reasons Regina had made them nuns while being under the curse,but she wasn’t going to start talking about basic biology with her wife. Notnow after all. She suspected the fairies had merely wanted to have a smallparty and that had gotten quite out of hand.

“And then Igave them to the fairies.” Emma deadpanned, looking at anything but Regina,probably wanting to disappear. “At first I could magic away the silly stringbut then the fairies got angry and told me that until they left I couldn’t makeanything they created disappear. And I truly couldn’t until they did, somebinding magic I guess. And I truly didn’t until they left. Which happened a fewseconds before you arrived.”

Thetricksters. Regina pursed her lips as she assessed the situation. There was areason she didn’t like those imps after all. Or, at least, almost all of them.

Reachingfor Emma’s hand, she gave it a gentle squeeze, so the woman looked up, remorsewritten on her face.

“Youcouldn’t know what was going to happen.” She said, poofing herself so she wasat the other side of the isle, at Emma’s side. “But I’m definetely going to payBlue a visit after this.”

Emmalaughed a little at that, softness replacing her worry as Regina rose theirhands and kissed the blonde’s knuckles.

“As long asyou don’t murder them I will be willing to look at the other way.”

Reginarolled her eyes at the joke.

“Who says Iwant to murder them?” She asked, letting a bit of her magic glow on her eyes.

Already onher bed and nursing quite the headache, Blue shivered.

#swan queen #SwanQueen #prompt #delirious-comfort

[vino-and-doggos]

Time Enough at Last

Read full text on AO3 and FFN

Length: 2007 words

Rated: T

Status: Incomplete (1/3)

Summary: Submitted for your approval: one wants money, women, status, fame, and everything else in the world. The other just wants more time alive, to see his daughter grow, to love his wife for a little longer. Two seemingly different personalities must learn to coexist so that they both can have it all.

Beta-ed by @flourchildwrites because she’s the literal BEST.

Meant for Halloween, but because I can’t do anything in life on time, Happy All Saints’ Day? We’ll pretend it works

Chapter 1

“First Ishval, now Liore. The East has been a real hotbed, huh?” Lieutenant Colonel Maes Hughes reclined in his chair, stretching his back a bit. Sitting for so long was really starting to take its toll. And really, how long was he supposed to remain idle? Something, some darkness, dwelled beneath the surface of Amestris. Maes could feel it in his bones.

“It’s not just the East,” Captain Focker said solemnly. “There have been reports of uprisings in the North and West, as well.”

“The bodies are piling up all over. When will it end? Will the government actually be able to stay in control? How has the military managed to sweep so much bloodshed under the rug in the first place?” Hughes’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll be in the archive room.”

“Is something wrong?” Focker asked as the door nearly closed on Maes’s cavalry skirt. “Lieutenant Colonel Hughes?”

With each step he took, Hughes thought of another uprising.

Thinking back, there was South City. Fotset. Pendleton. Most recently, Liore.

But one rebellion (an awful word for it, really) kept coming back to the forefront. The one he had a part in.

Ishval wasn’t that long ago; he remembered being on the ground in the stifling heat and how the coarse, irritating sand niggled its way into every crevice. If he listened closely, to this day he could still hear the echoes of screams and the rattle of rapid gunfire. What he never had to look closely for, however, was the memory of the way the desert soaked up the blood of the fallen, like a sponge that never had its fill. Almost like the ground was thirsty for the blood of the citizens.

Maes had a hunch. And he hoped that he wasn’t right. Mulling over the secret to the Philosopher's stone - human sacrifices - in addition to thinking about the locations of the uprisings, frankly, made him sick.

But looking at the archive room’s map plunged a knife deep into his guts. He started circling every known location of bloodshed on Amestrian soil, then began looking up others. Connecting the dots was simple, even for a non-alchemist; he’d seen Roy do it plenty of times. Life occurred in patterns, and alchemy was no different. Hughes no longer felt sick. It felt like his stomach had dropped out of his body completely.

He lived here. His wife lives here, his daughter, his friends. Images of each of them flashed in his mind in dizzying succession. How could this be happening? How could this be happening here? And how long did they have before the final point on the map also had been soaked in blood?

Numbly, his mouth formed words whose meaning his brain struggled to grasp. “I have to tell Fuhrer Bradley about this right away.”

A slamming sound startled Hughes from his stupefied state. Turning, he saw a buxom woman with beautiful porcelain skin accented with sharp features. Gloves that barely concealed razor-sharp nails extended up past her elbow, and an ouroboros tattoo adorned her chest. Sliding a kunai from the concealed holster underneath his standard-issue Amestrian blue sleeve, he smirked.

“Nice tattoo.”

“Humans are fascinating creatures. You really want those to be your last words?” Lust asked as she lunged at him, fingers extending and piercing his chest clean through. At the same time, Maes’s kunai flew true, hitting her in the dead center of her forehead. His wound gushed crimson, creating a macabre purple when mixed with the blue of his uniform. The kunai, however, reflected clean silver in the low light.

Her fingers retracted, allowing movement again. Hughes’s adrenaline carried him through the door and to the front desk, before realizing that a private line was never truly private, even in military headquarters. Maybe especially in military headquarters. And maybe the fuhrer wasn’t the one to speak to.

Stuttering steps led him to a phone booth just outside the walls of military lines. He quickly dialed Eastern Command, only to be held up once again with red tape. Just as the line clicked over to hold as he was being transferred, Maes heard a familiar voice behind him.

“Put down the receiver, Lieutenant,” Second Lieutenant Maria Ross stated slowly and calmly. She pointed her service pistol at Maes with the conviction of a cold-blooded killer.

The lieutenant colonel turned his head slowly, and for the second time that night, his perceptive eyes narrowed. “Nice try, but you’re not Maria Ross. She has a mole underneath her left eye.”

“How observant of you,” a gravelly voice that most definitely did  not  belong to Maria Ross said. “How’s this?” A sparkle of red electricity danced across the familiar, yet unfamiliar, face.

“What are you?” Maes asked incredulously.

Ross’s face twisted into a grotesque smile that was unlike anything that Hughes had ever seen cross her face. “Heh, so caught up with technicalities like moles and names that you’re forgetting to be concerned for your life.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Hughes answered. He turned back to the phone receiver in front of him, praying to anyone or thing listening that Roy would pick up the other end. The lieutenant colonel surreptitiously slipped the other knife from the holster in his sleeve. “But I have a family waiting at home for me. It would be a shame to disappoint them!”

He whirled around, intending to fling the knife at his assailant, but stopped short when he met the cool green eyes of Gracia.

His lovely, beautiful Gracia.

Frozen, Maes could only watch as the bullet discharged from the creature’s gun, hitting him squarely in the right shoulder, below and to the left of the puncture mark made by the temptress’s impossibly long and sharp fingernails. Slumped over against the unforgiving glass of the telephone booth, he heard a soft click on the other end of the line. He had never hung up the phone. He hoped the sound was Roy hanging up, that he had heard something, anything.

Blood began trickling down his arm, pain blossoming from the wound. Maes felt himself being moved, but he couldn’t summon the energy to focus his eyes enough to see which direction the creature was carrying him. Just as black began seeping into his field of his vision, he heard the same gravelly voice from before say, “You’re coming with me. And you better not die on the way.”

Everything seemed to echo off of the cavernous, circular walls in the sewer system below Dublith. As Greed attempted to stealthily make his way through the labyrinthian tunnels, he lamented this fact, wishing that moving along via the concrete walkways was as silent as moving through shadows.

Greed cautiously peered around the corner of a junction, only to see the animated suit of armor inching along as though he were a worm. Making his decision, the homunculus turned the corner and casually walked towards the immortal idiot. He was reminded, yet again, of the reverberations off the stone walls as he approached, when suddenly, the kid’s head popped open to reveal one of his favorite blondes.

“Martel, I’m glad to see you’re safe,” the homunculus said. His voice added to the echo around him. It was making him uncomfortable, like an itch in the dead center of his back that he couldn’t seem to reach.

“Greed!” she exclaimed. “What the hell happened up there? No one else has made it down yet.”

Greed grimaced and crossed his arms over his chest, pushing aside thoughts of his henchmen fighting off the military and the alchemists. “Yeah, things have gotten a little out-of-hand. We need to figure a way out of there.”

“I can’t let you do that,” another voice said calmly from behind the avaricious homunculus.

A chill slid down Greed’s back for reasons unknown. However, there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell he was going to let his poker face slip. Instead, Greed chose to wear another emotion on his sleeve: exasperation.

“What are you doing here, old man? The most powerful being in the land, swimming around the sewers with rats like us. What a joyous day!”

“Just because I’m about to turn sixty years old,” started Fuhrer King Bradley, his visage calm and genial, “doesn’t mean I won’t be able to finish this job quickly and return home.” As the sentence continued, the expression on his face turned menacing. Or was it a trick of the shadows?

A smirk crossed Greed’s face. “Then retire!” he exclaimed, calling upon his ultimate shield and lunging at Bradley as a slick, black carbon coating began to crawl up his arm. In the next second, however, the homunculus heard a splash. He turned, almost unaware of the horror that awaited him, and saw his right arm, half-hardened by the ultimate shield, writhing in the filthy sewer. Greed’s stomach turned, but not due to pain - the injury barely stung. It was utterly shocking to see your own mutilated limb twisting in the water.

“How did you…” he started, looking at the stump that was crackling with red as it regenerated. “Hm. The old man’s got some moves!” Greed said through gritted teeth, jumping back as the fuhrer advanced towards him, a sword in each hand. In the blink of an eye, Greed dodged another attack, another lunge with a sword. It seemed as though the leader was able to anticipate his movements before the ultimate shield even started to make them.

Another slash. Another stab. Another wound, deeper this time. The stinging had elevated to pain.

The left arm at the wrist. The soft tissue directly underneath his ribcage. Greed couldn’t maintain his shield under King Bradley’s constant barrage of attacks. He parried as the fuhrer came at him again, this time allowing the shield to advance up his right forearm.

Steel struck carbon.

With a grunt, Greed shoved back against Bradley, attempting to be on the offensive. His fingers fully regenerated, and the shield slid down and created points at the end of each digit, encased in jagged red sparks as they grew long and sharp. Swiping at the old man in front of him, the sharp-toothed homunculus let out a growl.

Greed the avaricious left himself unprotected.

In a flash, in the blink of an eye, in a split second, Greed found himself with swords protruding from his throat. Any movement would mean, at the very least, that he would be rendered useless while his tendons and ligaments reconnected; at worst, his head would have to completely regenerate. It was best just to stay still.

“I may not have an impenetrable shield or talons that can pierce any substance. I may not be able to shift my appearance or dissolve anything with my saliva. But I managed to find a way to distinguish myself,” Bradley monologued. If there weren’t swords stuck into him, Greed would have rolled his eyes. But then, the implication of the fuhrer’s words hit him, and his eyes widened instead.

“You’re - you’re -” he stuttered.

“Any weakness you might have can be seen with my ultimate eye,” Wrath continued as if he didn’t even hear the ultimate shield speak.

“What the hell do you want with me?” Greed managed to stutter out, blood trickling from his mouth. He gritted his teeth and thought of his underlings. Of Martel, Roa, Dolcetto, and Bido, his own little ragtag family. It wasn’t over; his existence couldn’t end like this. There was no way Father’s Wrath was going to win.

Deciding his question was worthy of an answer, Wrath said, “It’s not me that wants anything with you. It would be in your best interest to simply come with me, though. I was told to bring you back alive or as the stone that makes up your being. I’m content with either.”

Greed attempted to swallow around the swords lodged in his throat. It was pointless.

“You might want to take a good look around as we head back to Central,” Wrath said. “It may be the last time you see the outside.”

#Fullmetal Alchemist #fma #fullmetal alchemist fanfiction #fma fanfiction #greed!hughes AU #it's late for halloween but that's what it was meant for

[anonymadreams]

Last night I dreamed #3: The corrupted heart

I was not a part of that dream. There were 2 protagonists; a man with covered in scars and used to battles, wearing grey, brown, and dark green clothes. This guy looked like a military. If I remember correctly his name was Elvis, and I'll call him this way for the sake of my story.

There was also a blond haired guy with long, curly hair, purple eyes, and a blue medieval-ish cloak. He looked like a prince from a fantasy movie. We'll call him Jim.

It all started when Elvis was extremely sad, because his beloved wife was mortally ill and didn't have the ability to heal her himself, and didn't have the money to pay a doctor. He was usually tough and very serious, but this time he was crying. And then, Jim made his way to Elvis' wife. Pressed a hand on her forehead, speaking softly to her. Telling her she would be fine. Elvis was shocked when the colors came back to his wife's face, and she healed in the next few days. As for Jim, he disappeared before Elvis could ask him anything.

A few days passed, and it was now Elvis' wife birthday. He didn't have any gift to give her, being fairly poor despite being a hardened warrior. But when he went outside alone, he saw Jim standing in the road leading to the city, smiling at him. The city had been decorated with hearts and lanterns, while it wasn't the case a few minutes ago. Then he walked off, in a direction Elvis noted for later. He went to the city with his wife, and she was SO happy to see this very special gift on her birthday. Elvis never said it was his work, but, he never said it was this mysterious man, either.

Later, Elvis made his way where he saw this blond haired man dissapear. He found Jim, standing at the edge of a cliff, staring at the sunset and all it's golden colors. Elvis asked softly to the man:

"Who are you?"

To which Jim replied with a warm smile.

"I'm a helper. I help people in need. The Wind guides me to those who need my help, and it pointed me to you. From now on, if you snap your fingers, I will come and help you."

Elvis didn't believe Jim at first, but, one day, he needed another small miracle for a child who was stuck somewhere, I don't know where, and snapped his fingers just to try. Of course, the kid joined them, and talked about a man who helped him, but none of the adults believed him when he talked about it. None of the adults, excepting Elvis of course, who knew very well what had happened.

Then, one day, Elvis found himself surrounded by weird creatures on a public beach, in the water. They were monsters, never seen before in this world that looked like the modern times, but maybe a little less advanced. There were a lot of people watching and filming with cameras and taking pictures when he snapped his fingers and Jim appeared, and magically, all the corrupted creatures found themselves beached. It drove people crazy for two reasons: a new creature had just been seen, and there was footage of Jim doing this miracle. It caused him to get chased, people wanting him to perform miracles over miracles, and he had to flee and hide, not wanting the corrupted government to capture him.

This made his relation with Elvis very tense. Elvis couldn't snap his fingers to make Jim appear, as if the man refused to come to him.

Then one day, they met each other on the same cliff, during sunset again. When Elvis arrived, he could hear Jim yelling at himself.

"Why did I come to this guy when I KNEW there were cameras ? Because the WIND guided me ? And WHY does it keep trying to guide me to him???--"

He stopped himself when he spotted Elvis. Elvis sighed, and came a little closer to him.

"I... I'm sorry for putting you in so much trouble. I... Don't understand what is going on, but, I'm sorry."

Jim seemed to still be upset, but he got up, and walked to Elvis. "Come with me" He said, before guiding Elvis to a small house at the edge of the woods. Inside, it looked like a magician's house, because it was pretty much the case. And on a chair, there was a heart (❤) shaped object. It looked like red crystal, but was soft like a pillow. Jim pointed at another heart shaped item, this one being an actual white pillow, right beside the heart. This one though was covered with some kind of moving, dark spider webs.

Jim, still looking upset took a golden hook and plunged it in his chest, creating some golden ripples to flow on his chest. He pulled it back out with a pained face, and took out some of those dark webs and placed it on the white pillow with the rest. Then he did the same hook trick with the red heart as he explained. He looked calm again now, though he wasn't smiling.

"This is corruption matter. The heart of the humanity (the red heart) keeps getting darker and darker. I try to take it off completely, but I can't, because as soon as you touch the corruption-" he took the corruption webs in one handful and it started to move. He made Elvis hold it, and for some reason, Elvis couldn't let go. Which Jim knew. It required a lot of will from Elvis to finally let go. "You don't want to let go of it. As soon as there is a little corruption left, it will start to grow again. And I will have to pull it off again. This is why I can perform miracles. I take the corruption of this world and pull it out."

And then I woke up, so this is open ended.

#anonyma dreams #the corrupted heart #weird dreams #dreams #Jim the Helper #Elvis

[artificialqueens]

Contacting Russia: From America With Love (Trixya)- Squeaky Stella

Trixie is an American mail order bride.

(AN: Stella and Squeaky back at it again. 10K words of two idiots falling in love. Shoutout to Pinky from Pink Shrooms for editing.)

Seven Days Before Contact

“I’m 22, very beautiful, entertaining, American, Christian-ish, brown eyes, golden hair, fair complexion, and can tap dance. Have 100 dollars to my name. If you’re a rich ass man from a foreign country, contact me. Desperate to leave America.”

Trixie finished typing out her bio and read it over. After man she added “or woman.” Her sexuality was getting her the fuck out of this dead end town.

She took out her iPhone, positioned her golden hair over her shoulder, pulled a Gucci bag into the frame, and winked. Snap.

No, she looked horrible. Trixie pulled down her shirt and tugged up the straps of her push up bra. Now, she sucked in a breath to make her waist look smaller. Snap.

“Tracey! Get yo itty-bitty titties outta your room and finish cleaning the kitchen,” her uncle yelled. Trixie self-consciously crossed her arms over her chest and flushed.

Instead of obeying she uploaded the photo and refreshed. Nothing. Shit, what was she thinking? Clearly, you needed some bikini photos to get an offer. Men were visual creatures.

Trixie went through her old photos and found a flattering shot, where she was posing with her ass facing the camera and looking seductively over her shoulder. Not featured here was the bruise that she had on her abdomen.

“Trixie! Get! Down! Here!”

She was about to get up when a message lit up her screen:

B: Hello, Trixie. My name is Katya Zamolodchikova, but you may call me Katya.

She clicked on his profile and bit her thumb. Huh?

T: Then why did you write it was Brian Zamolodchikova?

B: It’s…complicated.

T: Are you rich?

B: I have lots of money. Yes.

T: Then it’s really not that complicated at all, Katya. Send me a pic?

B: Wow, Americans are so direct.

Attached was a photo of a sharp jawed woman with cutting, green eyes. She might have been beautiful if she was smiling, but there was something forlorn in her expression. Trixie stared at the photo longer than was necessary.

T: You’re…not hideous.

T: AND your English is really good. Where are you from?

B: Moscow. I’m interested in a bride for public and sexual purposes.

T: Uh, duh, that’s why we’re here

T: Let’s just get this out the way- how rich are you exactly?

B: Rich enough to buy you a ticket and provide you with a home and unlimited supplies of makeup. How does that sound good?

T: Uhm, I don’t wear makeup. This is how my natural face looks. But that does sound good.

B: But in your picture you are…? Nevermind. This is not important fact.

B: In fact, what is important is that you can get here in a week. I have an important dinner party in two weeks, and I need a wife to advance in the social ladder.

T: Yeah, I also need to leave ASAP.

B: So you’d be willing to come?

T: Yes. Shit.

T: Promise you’re not an axe murderer?

B: I have never killed anyone. Besides for my true self.

T: Deep.

T: Forward me the tickets, and I’ll see you in a week <3

B: I’d like to Skype with you once before you come here. And speak with you five minutes on the phone every day. Is that okay?

T: Yes, deal!

Did Trixie sound desperate? Because she was.

——

Three Days Before Contact

Trixie didn’t have a lot of time to pack all of her things. From what her soon to be spouse had told her, she should probably leave her summer clothes behind. But there were some things she couldn’t part from, like her teeny-weeny pink bikini.

She shimmied into it and laid down on her bed to snap a picture to send to Katya. She angled her body so it looked leaner and her breasts bigger.

B: Where are you going in a bikini? It’s dead of winter?

T: To see you ;)

B: You look gorgeous…like a Polly Pocket had sex with a Barbie, and they had a beautiful love child named Trixie

She rolled her eyes. Katya tried really hard to think of original compliments when sometimes just a cliche one would do.

T: Thanks? My uncle’s going to be out all night with his poker buddies, so I’m free to Skype

B: Perfect.

Trixie positioned herself on her stomach and angled the camera, so her ass was strategically positioned behind her. After a few rings, Katya’s face popped up on screen. Even though Trixie’s laptop was cheap, Katya still looked beautiful. Her blonde hair was a messy halo around her head, her eyes were smoky, and her lips were dark. Did all Russians paint their makeup that heavy? Trixie loved it.

“Hey, future lover,” Trixie greeted. She squeezed her arms together, pushing up her cleavage.

“I see a suitcase behind you, are you packing?” Katya asked, carefully enunciating. Her voice was deep and husky. The first time that she’d called Katya, the tenor had surprised her. Somehow, it fit her- very Russian, very commanding.

The screen lagged when Trixie flipped her hair over her shoulder: “Packed already. There’s not much here to take away, to be honest. Uncle-pain-in-my-ass takes all the paychecks I earn for ‘rent,’ but I know he’s just buying up a shit ton of vodka.”

“Ah, the devil’s juice. Don’t touch it.”

“You don’t drink?” Trixie asked, surprised. “Smoke?”

“No. Well, I did when I was younger, but I quit everything a couple years ago. Dumped it all in trash can and set trash can on fire.”

Trixie laughed because she couldn’t tell if Katya was being serious. She said everything like it was fact, but Trixie got the feeling that she exaggerated some of her stories. Still, she was the most fascinating person that Trixie had never met, and it was that sense of unknown that made her lean in.

“Why? I mean yeah, it’s gross, but I still like the feeling of letting go, you know?”

“No. I never let go…just fell into dark, dark cycles of self loathing. It was, uh,” Katya trailed off and stared off at something. “Soul sucking.”

“Oh, uh, cool?” Trixie said, feeling dumb. “I mean that’s not cool. It sucks, but…yeah. I can kinda relate? When I graduated from high school, I started smoking weed every night. All my old friends had left for college but…”

“But?”

“But life happened to me,” she bitterly laughed.

How had this gone from Trixie trying to be a seductive “fiancee” to an existentially disturbing individual? It was something about Katya that made her want to confess all her deepest and darkest secrets. And she’d only been talking to her for a couple days now.

Trixie tried to change the tone: “That all leads us up to right now though, so is there anything…you want to do? Or see? While I have the house all to myself?”

“Yes, do you have any dietary concerns?”

Wow, nothing to get you in the mood like talking about your lactose intolerance. Trixie laughed, even if it wasn’t a joke.

“Wow. You’re…I’ve never met anyone like you.”

Silence.

“You have never met me yet.”

“Three more days,” Trixie repeated gleefully. It had become a mantra when she was at the grocery store swiping bags, when she was washing the floors, when she was alone on her computer and when she couldn’t sleep.

“Three more days,” Katya confirmed. “Tell me, Trixie, are you more excited to see Russia…or get away from America?”

Just then the downstairs door slammed open, and Trixie jumped. She cursed, slammed her computer shut, and grabbed her faded ‘Tap Dance Is Life’ sweatshirt.

“Who were you talking to, Tracey?”  

Her uncle smelled like alcohol and cologne. She crossed her arms and snuggled deeper into the sweatshirt.

“Just a friend from high school. Why the hell are you even in my room? We agreed if I gave you my paycheck, you wouldn’t come in here-”

“What’s with the suitcase? You’re leaving, huh?” He grabbed her by the wrist. “Selling yourself off to the highest bidder?”

“Don’t touch me! D-don’t you fucking touch me!”

“Just like your ma. Rotten apples don’t go far from the rotten tree.”

“Shut the fuck up!”

He leaned in closer: “You want to know what happened to Barbie? She married Ken and left you here. Just left. Didn’t give a shit about nothing except that she was the fuck away- is that what you wanna be?”

But Trixie had heard enough. She ripped her hand away and lunged for her purse. There was no time to grab her suitcase.

She ran, stopping only to slip into a warm pair of sparkling Uggs by the door. Uncle was cursing and banging down the stairs.

Trixie hugged her purse to her chest and ran faster. The sun was threatening to set, and the sky was bruised purple.

She shivered as she slowed to a walk. There was only a hundred dollars and her phone charger in her stupid, Gucci bag. One plane ticket. Two bars. And three days until her flight.

Trixie had also thankfully grabbed her phone on the way out, but, as she scrolled through the contacts, there was only one voice she wanted to hear.

“Sorry for hanging up on you,” Trixie said, forcing herself to smile. “Had a bit of technical difficulties.”

“What happened?”

She sniffled: “I-I just decided that I need to depart a little earlier than expected.”

“Trixie…are you crying?”

“No. I’m fine. I’m so happy that I’m leaving soon,” Trixie’s voice cracked. “I-I can’t wait to get the fuck out of this horrible country.”

She found herself in front of Beyond Belief Dance Studio. Little girls clicked proudly in their heels, leaving their mothers’ cars, and Trixie’s heart twisted with jealousy. Had she really looked like that? Not a single care in the world?

“Trixie, talk to me. What’s happening?”

Trixie hugged herself as she watched Ms. Edward’s dance class through the glass. She went to wave and then stopped. Trixie didn’t recognize herself in the reflection.  

“Just saying goodbye.”

She turned away, slumped down on the bench in front and swung her legs, like she was waiting for someone to come pick her.

“This was the last place I saw her,” Trixie babbled, even though Katya wouldn’t know what she was talking about. “But that doesn’t matter now. She’s not coming back, and I’m not coming back. Just three more days, right?”

“Three more now. Tomorrow two more. And then…”

—-

One Day Before Contact

Trixie sprayed water on her face. This time it actually was bare. She rubbed soap under her armpits. Her stomach growled, but there wasn’t much money left to spend on food. Maybe enough for chai and a cookie.

She’d been to the gift shop too many times yesterday, and she was afraid the frowning manager was going to call the police.

Trixie yawned. It was harder than you’d think to sleep on airport seats.

“Missed your flight?” An old lady asked. She had kind eyes and a warm smile. Trixie smiled back.

“Yeah, luckily my fiance bought me another ticket,” she lied.

“Aw, he must love you. When’s the wedding?”

“Tomorrow,” Trixie deadpanned.

“Oh! Wow, dearie, I’m so sorry you have to spend the day all alone here-”

“It’s fine,” Trixie paused and bit her lip. “I actually did lose my credit card. Such a mess, huh? Do you have twenty dollars?”

“Of course! And congratulations on the wedding. Mazel tov!”

This is what Trixie had been reduced to- scamming old woman for their pocket money. Fuck, at least now she could get herself a proper breakfast of bacon, egg, and cheese on toast.

“Just calling to let you know I’m not dead. Yet. Somehow surviving.”

“I’m at work but-” Katya paused and then screamed something in Russian. “But I’m glad to know you made it another night, honey. As soon as you get home, I’m drawing up a bath for you. Hot.”

Trixie’s eyes fluttered.

“Oh, fuccck, yeah. Keep talking dirty to me.”

The man next to her choked on his food.

“And then I’ll massage your feet…”

“Shit… fuck.”

“And your back…”

“Oh, keep going, baby. Keep going.”

“Make you food. Anything you like.”

Trixie bit her thumb as she listened to Katya’s deep, raspy voice. Oh, shit, how was it so sexual when they were talking about this?

“Just be warned that I’m gonna look like shit. Alright? I’m airport chic.”

“You won’t.”

“No, really, I’m in sweats with a bikini underneath.”

“Sexy,” Katya growled.

“Yeah, nothing hotter than a girl and her unshaven legs, huh?”

“I love leg hair.”

“I haven’t showered in almost three days?”

“I love a natural scent.”

“My…” Trixie lowered her voice. “My period’s in a couple days.”

“Means you’re fertile.”

“Oh my god! You are the strangest person that I’ve ever met, Katya! Who doesn’t care about those kinds of things? Fuck, any girl would be lucky to have someone like you,” Trixie laughed and then flushed when she’d realized what she’d said.

“Lucky you then, yes?”

Trixie cradled the phone and smiled: “Yes, lucky me. So how do you say ‘hello’ in Russian? I’d look it up myself, but I don’t have any data.”

“‘Privyet’ is hello. ‘Poka’ is goodbye. And ‘Ya galodnayah’ mean ‘I’m hungry.”

“Damn, I can’t believe you taught me all the Russian I’ll ever need to know. ‘Poka’ for now…and in a couple hours ‘privyet.’”

—-

Watching Contact

Trixie was crying again. Poor Eli hadn’t made it in time to save her father. Now, she was alone in the world and- Trixie turned it off. God, she’d always hated this movie- what was wrong with her? Maybe she was hormonal.

The airplane food tasted like shit, but Trixie was hungry. Yum, nothing like fresh chemicals and tears.

She’d wasted the last of her money on a Russian-English dictionary, but reading on a plane or car made her nauseous.

‘Privyet, Katya,’ Trixie repeated in her head.

“Why are you wearing sweatpants covered in hearts? My mommy says only messy Americans leave the house without real clothes on,” the little girl next to her said. She was holding a doll to her chest and staring up at Trixie with wide eyes.

“Well, did your mommy also teach you not to talk to strangers? Or comment on their fashion choices?”

“We’re not strangers! My name’s Adore Delano Haylock, and we’ve been sitting next to each other for hours now. And it was a bad fashion choice.”

Oh, wow, a seven year old was roasting her?

“Listen, Adore. My name is Trixie, and I’m going to go meet someone very important in a couple hours-”

“Who? A stylist? My daddy’s a stylist so he can help you.”

Adore- 1. Trixie- 0.

“No, my wife. Her name’s Katya, and I’m going to see her and say ‘poka’-”

“That means goodbye, silly!” Adore giggled. “My daddy’s American and my mommy’s Russian. So I’m a bi-language-person.”

“Ok, no. I’m going to go up to her and say…uh…say…I knew this! It’s…”

“Privyet?”

Trixie sighed and buried her face in her hands. Adore was still watching her. Nothing like breaking down in front of a child to really get you in the matrimonial mood, huh?

“Are you crying? Sorry I said that about your pants. My daddy says I have a mouth that never stops going and going and- wait, if you don’t know Russian, how are you going to live there forever and ever?”

“I’ll learn.”

“Well, I have an apartment in Moscow, so maybe you’ll live close to me? Then you can come over, and I’ll teach you the alphabet and you can teach me…?”

“How to dance,” Trixie said without thinking and yawned. She had a couple more hours to sleep, so she leaned her head against the window and closed her eyes. Adore leaned back and started babbling to whoever was behind them, most likely her parents. Trixie wished she had somebody to turn around to.

Instead, she drifted off and dreamed of their plane flying up to space and landing on the moon. There, Katya was waiting for her with flowers. But with each step that Trixie took towards her, she seemed to be floating farther away. Smaller and smaller.

She jolted awake.

“We’re in Roccceeeha!” Adore sing-songed and tugged on her sleeve. “You’ll be such a pretty bride. Promise I can come to the wedding?”

“Sorry about my daughter. Adore doesn’t know when it’s best to stop. Hope she didn’t annoy you too much,” the man behind them said as he got up and ruffled Adore’s hair. “Name’s Roy Haylock by the way.”

“Trixie, and it’s fine. I was happy for the company,” she said truthfully. Adore gave her a crumpled sheet of paper and ran off past her father, who gave her an exasperated eye roll as he followed. Trixie put it in her purse and waved goodbye.

Trixie didn’t have any other luggage, so she went straight down the terminal. She looked around for a familiar blonde, but she didn’t see her.

B: I’ll be there in ten. A little traffic

B: I’ll be the one with the sign that says your name. Pro Tip- if the sign says a different name, it’s probably not me.

Typical Katya, Trixie thought as she collapsed onto a seat. She saw Adore running up to a blonde woman, who swirled her around, and Roy tightly embraced them both. The sight made her teary.

She was overwhelmed at the sudden roar of Russian voices. All the women she saw heading out into the white world were wearing fashionable fur. Around them all the signs were in cyrillic. She wished she had a translator.

“Privyet, Trixie!”

Trixie turned, ready to embrace her beautiful fiancee, but she froze. That was definitely a man. Sure, it was still a hot, Russian man in a three piece suit, but a man nonetheless. He was holding a sign that said her name with little hearts around it.

“Um, did Katya send you to pick me up? Are you, like, the driver?”

“You don’t even recognize your own wife, shame on you Trixie,” the man shot back, and it clicked. The camera may have hidden some things, but the voice combined with the distinctive eyes and cheekbones gave it away. That was Katya.

“You’re…shit, you’re hot in both genders,” Trixie laughed as she threw her arms around Katya. “That’s not fair.”

Katya blinked at her:  “Wait? You’re okay with this?”

“Yeah, duh. You’re still you no matter what you’re wearing. Can we go home now?”

“Of course,” she said and led her to a shining Lexus in the front. Well, Katya hadn’t exaggerated how rich she was.

“Oh, and privyet, Katya,” Trixie said and leaned in to softly peck her on the lips. The way Katya’s whole face turned red was precious.  

—–

Thirty Minutes After Contact

Trixie pressed her face to the window, eyes wide, as she looked out at Moscow. It was a glittering city of lights, and it seemed more like New York City than what she’d thought Russia would look like.

I want to see everything, Trixie decided. New country? New me.

Katya’s apartment was just as strange as Katya herself. There was a shelf full of nothing but different patterned Matryoshka dolls glaring down at her. The walls were covered with rugs, furs, and a sad moose head. Where had Trixie had found herself?

“Follow me,” Katya beckoned her towards the master bedroom.

There on the zebra print covers was a white wedding dress. Trixie ran her hands over the heavily beaded material, and she bit her lip as tears filled her eyes.

“It’s beautiful,” she managed.

“It was my mother’s dress, and she would have wanted you to have it. I thought you could wear it for the photos? After we’re all rested up in the morning.

Trixie hugged Katya. "I’ll put it on first thing tomorrow.”

Katya was looking at the dress like she wished that she could have worn it, but all she said was: “The shower’s the third left. I wasn’t sure what shampoo you liked, so I bought up every kind.”

Trixie laughed when she saw that the bathroom was, indeed, covered with every possible kind of shampoo. She hopped around them to get into the shower and struggled for a minute to turn it on.

Trixie moaned as she grabbed a random shampoo and rubbed it into her scalp. There was nothing like a hot shower to wash away all the grime from living in an American airport for three days. She dug her fingers down as she tried to figure out everything that had happened. Katya’s “real” name was Brian and they dressed like a man in public but a woman in private. From her limited Tumblr knowledge, Trixie thought they might be transgender? Or maybe genderfluid?

Honestly, the weirdest part of Katya wasn’t even her changing gender identity. It was the way she looked at Trixie so kindly and offered to make her blinchiki for dinner. Or how Katya had left out new clothes for her and thrown her old ones into the wash. Now that was weird.

Trixie shaved everywhere because she wasn’t sure how tonight was going to go. But Katya had left her loose, baggy pajamas, not something sexy or skimpy. Trixie gratefully snuggled into the pink pjs. She liked the way they smelled like cinnamon and something distinctly Katya.

Trixie crept into the kitchen to find Katya dressed up like how she was used to seeing her on Skype. She was also in pajamas, Trixie noted as she wrapped her hands around her waist.

“So…I don’t think you have enough shampoo,” Trixie joked, and Katya laughed as she leaned into her touch.

“I was worried,” Katya said. “Now, here. I don’t want you going to bed on an empty stomach, and I don’t trust any of that airplane food.”

The blinchiki were hot and delicious. Trixie sat at the kitchen table with her plate, spread jam inside, and then rolled them up like she’d seen before in pictures. She wasn’t sure if she was doing it right, but it tasted like fucking heaven. Hot shower? Delicous food? Trixie had found herself a keeper.

“Fuck, you’re an amazing cook,” Trixie moaned. “I don’t know why you need my useless American ass.”

“I enjoy the company. It’s…I get so lonely here by myself.”

“Then why don’t you invite people over?”

“Because they don’t know about me. About Katya.”

“Oh,” Trixie said slowly. “I wanted to ask you about that, by the way…are you- trans?”

“I’m me,” Katya said firmly, but Trixie wasn’t really sure what that meant. Oh well, she didn’t give a shit if Katya dressed in dresses, so long as she felt her best.

“Well, I think you -both sides of you- are hot as fuck,” Trixie said as she licked jam from her sticky fingers. She caught Katya’s eyes and mischievously winked. Katya flushed and turned back around to face the stove.

They ate the rest of their dinner together on Katya’s couch on opposite ends, though their feet met in the middle. It was sweetly domestic, but not at all what she’d pictured as her first night with her betrothed. Trixie smelt flowery, her hair was soft around her shoulders, and her legs bare and shining. Trixie looked like sex, but they weren’t even touching, aside from the occasional brush of their toes.

Trixie never felt shy, but, under Katya’s gaze, she felt herself flush. There was just so much to look at, but all she wanted to do was turn back and look at Katya. She spoke briefly about her flight, mentioning Adore’s quips, and Katya laughed. She had a deep, throaty laugh, and it made Trixie bite her lip.

“By the sound of your long journey, you must be tired. Leave the plates in the sink -I’ll wash them in the morning- and let’s go to my room,” Katya offered when they were finished.

Her bedroom was just as luxurious as the rest of her home. Trixie’s toes curled into the fur rug as Katya pulled back the covers for them.

“What kind of movies do you like? I have plenty of American ones,” Katya said as she grabbed the remote. Trixie crawled into bed as enticingly as she could. But Katya’s eyes were glued to the screen, trying to find something for them to watch. All that sexual energy wasted.

“Put whatever on,” Trixie finally replied as she curled into Katya’s side. Her hand rested on Katya’s stomach, her skin warm through her shirt. Katya stiffened under her touch then relaxed. They were clearly still getting comfortable with each other.

Trixie’s eyes felt heavy as she rested her head on Katya’s shoulder. Jet lag was starting to set in, and now that she was warm and safe, Trixie found it hard to keep her eyes open. When she covered her mouth to yawn, Katya chuckled.

“Go to sleep, if you’re tired,” Katya insisted.

“But- but it’s our first night together. We should be having wild, crazy sex on top of your Matryoshka dolls!”

“Shh, you’ve been watching too much 50 Shades of Gray. Go to bed,” Katya whispered, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. Trixie felt so warm and content.  

“No, I’m just gonna…” Trixie yawned again. “Rest my eyes.”

Those were some famous last words. Without even seeing the first scene of whatever movie Katya had decided on, Trixie fell into a deep, peaceful slumber.

In her dreams, she was back on the plane, but this time there was no one there except her and Katya. They were piloting it alone in space, hurtling through space together, and Trixie didn’t want to share their flight with anyone else. Mine all mine.

—–

Morning Full of Contact

What time was it? Trixie’s internal clock was all fucked up. When she opened her eyes, the morning sun was lazily filtering through the cracks in the thick curtains. It felt like she’d woken up in a different life.

Katya let out a puff of air by her ear and shifted, her hard cock pressing against Trixie’s hip. After so much innocent cuddling, this was exactly what Trixie needed. She carefully rolled onto her side so her ass was flush against Katya. She experimentally rocked back, grinding against Katya’s cock. She held her breath, waiting for a reaction. Nothing. She tried again, firmer this time. Her panties were growing wet.

“Mh,” Katya mumbled behind Trixie, stirring in her sleep.

Her hand gripped Trixie’s hip and she pushed up against Trixie.

“Wake up, baby,” Trixie teased, arching her back to push up into her.

Katya groaned, eyes fluttering open, as she unconsciously rutted forward into Trixie’s ass. Oh god, that friction was everything.

Trixie liked how Katya’s breath was hot against her neck. Her fiancee’s large hand curled around her stomach, purposefully pressing her in closer.

“Is this how girls say ‘good morning’ in America?” Katya whispered in her ear. Her Russian accent became more pronounced when she was horny. Trixie whimpered at the combination of that low, vibrating voice and that hard bulge against her ass.

“Russians say ‘privyet,’ and Americans silently grind,” Trixie giggled, feeling ridiculous. Katya laughed along with her and pressed a kiss against the curve of her neck. The vibrations of her laughter made Trixie shiver in excitement.

She’d fucked girls and a couple of boys before. They’d all been hard quickly so that her uncle wouldn’t walk in. They’d all been sloppy and hurried so that she could get back to class. They’d all been unsatisfying.

But Katya? Somehow, her slow, lingering touch was everything that Trixie had been waiting for. She’d been waiting for someone who would hold her close and love her like she needed.

“Shouldn’t we wait for marriage?” Trixie continued to tease as Katya slowly sucked down on her neck. Trixie happily moaned at the pressure of Katya’s lips and the tightening grip around her hips.

“Too long,” Katya growled, Russian accent thick and sexy, as she continued to rub herself against Trixie’s ass.

“Two hours is too long?”

Katya slipped one cold hand under Trixie’s pajama top to curl her fingers around her breast: “Too long.”

Trixie, desperate to feel Katya’s skin against her’s, kicked off her pajama bottoms and shimmied off her top. She needed to feel her naked cock against her, wanted it pressed against the cleft of her ass. Trixie was now naked except for a pair of lacey panties, but Katya still had on all of her clothes. How frustrating.

“It’s rude to have more clothes on than your guests.”

“Is this peculiarity of American culture?” Katya asked as her long fingers dipped down to tug at the elastic of Trixie’s panties. She was so wet, and the tugging motion made her squeeze her thighs together. Fuck.

“No, it’s a universal rule,” Trixie said as she turned around to kiss Katya’s lips. They were soft and gentle, and Katya still tasted like cinnamon.

Katya’s fingertips moved under her panties to gently rub against her. Trixie whined at the teasing.

“Well, we have our own rule here in Russia.”

“Oh?” Trixie panted as Katya’s fingers pushed inside of her wetness, and she jerked her hips up against Katya’s hard cock. Their movements were getting more frantic, more frenzied. Trixie bit her lip as she felt herself edging closer and closer.

“Ъерись дружно, не будет гурузною,” Katya said, and it was the first time that Trixie had ever heard her speak in Russian. The low, harsh sounds on Katya’s tongue sounded so fucking sexy. She’d never thought something you couldn’t understand could make you horny, but, fuck, it did.

“Translate,” Trixie whined as she continued to rock her hips, the lace of her panties wet. Katya two fingers were rocking so slowly and sweetly inside of her.

“Many hands,” Katya slowly whispered as she slipped another finger in her. “Make light work.”

“Then how come I’m making you harder?”

“That’s your ass not your hands,” Katya chuckled lowly as she pushed down her own sweats. Trixie gasped as Katya dragged the length of her bare cock against her ass. She could feel the slickness of precum. Sweat dripped down her neck. Everything was slow and sensual.

More, Trixie thought as she desperately rut back into Katya’s hardness. Katya spread Trixie’s legs apart and then positioned herself right in between her thighs. The head of Katya’s cock pushed up against her soaking panties.

Trixie was trembling, sweating.

Katya thrust up against her one more time, and then she was coming all over her thighs in sticky, white streaks. It was the sight of herself all covered in Katya’s cum that pushed Trixie over the edge. She came with a helpless, little whimper.

“Fuck, th-that was-” Trixie stammered. “Amazing.”

“And who said I was done?” Katya said with a wicked, little smirk, and Trixie loved this side to her.

Then Katya was pushing Trixie up against the pillows of her bed. Trixie bit her lip as she looked down at Katya, settling in between her legs. Oh god, her cheekbones looked so sharp, and her cheeks were still flushed red.

Trixie eagerly spread her legs wider, thighs still covered in cum. Katya grabbed the elastic waistband of her panties and slowly dragged them down. Trixie felt so overstimulated and sensitive that just the slight puff of Katya’s breathe made her toes curl against the fur covers.

“You know for a Russian…you don’t seem to be rushing,” Trixie said as Katya slowly licked her thighs. It was so erotic and kinky for Katya to clean up her own cum, and the wet drag of Katya’s tongue made Trixie whimper.

“And for an American, you never shut up…oh wait, this is to be expected,” Katya teased as she pressed an open mouth kiss against Trixie’s inner thigh. It had only been a minute, but Katya’s meticulous licking and teasing had had left Trixie squirming for more. She could feel herself getting wetter and wetter. 

Katya looked up at her through her dark lashes and purred, “Do you know how to say ‘please’ in Russian?”

“Oh my god, this is sex not a language lesson.”

“It could be both,” Katya said slowly as she pressed the softest kiss against Trixie’s folds.

“Give me a hint,” Trixie begged. “And by hint I m-mean tell me how to say it.”

“Пожалуйста,” Katya instructed carefully, massaging Trixie’s wet thighs with her big hands, squeezing them with her fingertips. Trixie rolled up her hips, desperate.

She repeated the word, the Russian heavy against her tongue, and she couldn’t get her mouth to curve against the syllables properly. But judging by the sharp intake of Katya’s breath, she might have been doing something right.

“Good,” Katya praised and leaned in to softly lick her. The wet drag of her tongue up Trixie made her eyes flutter. She was just coming down from the high of one orgasm, and now Katya’s skilled tongue was pushing her closer and closer to another one. Katya was licking her open in long, languid strokes.

Trixie squeezed her thighs around Katya’s face, twisting her ankles together behind Katya’s shoulders. She was coming apart in tiny whimpers and moans. She had one hand around her breast and the other pushing Katya’s head further down.

“Oh, g-god, Katya,” Trixie moaned, back arching, as she came again.

“What do you think of the Mother Russian tongue?”

“I think,” Trixie panted. “If you ever say the word ‘mother’ in bed, I’m kicking you out.”

“Moooother, I’m being kicked out of bed again.”

Trixie tried to shove her, but Katya caught her arm, and they somehow just ended up making out. Trixie would never get enough of this.

——-

Two Hours Since Sexual Contact

Trixie was sober, but she was howling with laughter like she was drunk. The wedding dress had fit perfectly, everywhere except her breasts, so Katya, dressed now like Brian, was carefully pulling back the straps and pinning them down. The sight of her soon-to-be wife back in a fancy suit with a delicate, sewing needle in her hands was too much. What was her life?

“I’m going to prick you if you keep laughing,” Katya warned.

“I know something you could prick me with.”

“I’m serious, Trixie, these needles are very sharp.”

“I always knew you were gonna be the death of me,” Trixie giggled into her hands. It wasn’t that funny, but she was just in such a good mood.

Everything that had seemed so strange last night became familiar in the morning light. The Matryoshka dolls smiled down at her. The moose head didn’t seem so sullen. She ran her hands over the tapestry on the wall as she waited for Katya to finish.

“Is it weird that this feels like home already?”

“Yes,” Katya replied, never one to bullshit.

“Call me unpatriotic then, because I never felt like I had a place in America. It was a country full of strangers, but I felt like the strange one,” Trixie confessed. Katya was silent, listening.

“I always felt like there was something more for me. More than just that the grocery story and my uncle and the girl at the back of the liquor store, who’d eat you out for twenty bucks. I felt like I was suffocating there in Texas, but here in Moscow,” Trixie took a deep breath and exhaled. “I can breathe again.”

Katya leaned in and pressed a sweet kiss to the side of her neck, over the hickey from the morning, and she wrapped her arms around Trixie. Trixie leaned back into the touch and closed her eyes. They stayed like that for a couple of minutes, just breathing.

Then Katya did Trixie’s makeup (“Since you don’t wear any”) and pinned Trixie’s hair into an elegant up do. Trixie stretched on long, satin gloves, and a fur coat. When she twirled around, she felt like a princess.

“Wait,” Katya took Trixie’s hand and pressed something into her palm. “Finishing touch.”

Trixie gasped as she held the delicate, diamond necklace.

“I don’t like diamond rings- always getting lost or misplaced. Do you like? We could always go back and get the jeweler to make you something else-”

She threw her hands around Katya and kissed her quiet. Trixie had never owned something so valuable in her life. Trixie had never worn any jewels worth more than a hundred bucks.

“It’s perfect,” Trixie said when she really meant you’re perfect.

She couldn’t stop touching it. Trixie loved the weight of it against her neck, and the way it dipped down just above her collarbones. She loved the possessive, sparkle in Katya’s eyes whenever she looked at Trixie wearing it.

They drove to the station to fill out the marriage forms. It was an hour of boring bureaucratic bullshit, but, side by side with Katya, it didn’t matter. Trixie rested her head against Katya’s shoulder.

“I’m too pretty today to waste away doing paperwork.”

“Alright, Cinderella,” Katya teased, winking at her. “I have something fun planned.”

“More fun than filling out forms?”

“A little.”

It turns out Katya had hired a photographer. Trixie felt so small and lovely with Katya’s big hands around her waist. Trixie thrust out her chest, proud of the sparkling necklace that rested there.

The man grunted ‘good, good’ and pointed them towards the frozen waterfall. Trixie gathered up her skirts so they wouldn’t drag in the snow. She gasped as Katya literally swept her off her feet.

“I do feel like Cinderella now,” Trixie giggled. “This is my storybook wedding, right?”

“Only if I can be your crossdressing prince.”

“Duh.”

They spent fifteen more minutes laughing and posing as the photographer snapped shots. Children waved at them. Trixie waved back and tried to spot Adore’s pigtails, but the loud mouthed girl was nowhere to be seen.

Just then Katya’s face darkened. When she tightened her jaw like that, she looked much more like Brian than Katya.

Before Trixie could ask, two well groomed ladies approached them with their tiny poodles. They both had on mink coats and faces like they’d smelled something horrible.

“Privyet, Phi Phi. Privyet, Betty,” Katya said like there was a gun to the back of her head.

They burst into rapid Russian, each taking turns squeezing Brian’s arm and casting evil looks at Trixie. Their dogs yipped at her, and Trixie jumped back, almost slipping on the snow.

“It’s not polite to speak about my wife, Trixie, like she’s not there.”

The taller one gave her a hard once over: “Ve vhere just vondering vhy did you paint her face like that?”

“It’s hard vhen canvas is poor to paint pretty,” the smaller one quipped. “It’s not Brian’s fault.”

Trixie self consciously crossed her arms.

“Ladies, пожалуйста-”

Trixie recognize the word for ‘please’ from her language lesson this morning. She wished they would ‘please’ stop and go away.

“And vhy are you going to Америке for bride when there are so many Russian voman?” Betty continued, voice nasally and harsh.

“So many!”

“Are you educated at university?” Betty turned sharply to Trixie.

“N-no.”

“Ve could have set you up with someone who had big, Russian brains and breasts and beauty. A real voman not a child,” Betty pressed, not-so subtly running her hands over her own ample chest. Trixie wondered how that corset could hold together so much bullshit.

Still, the words stung like sharp darts into her fragile ego. Trixie deflated as they continued on and on, switching back to Russian and then to English. Katya just stood there, with her jaw locked, taking the abuse.

“It’s Hollywood making you think you need to go outside Russia. Phah! What do Americans have? Corrupting men’s brains with sexual fantasies about other men and children.”

Oh, great, now they’re going to start ranting about the liberal media, Trixie thought with a mental groan. How was it that two woman from Moscow sounded just like her Uncle, who had never set a “foot outta fertile, Texan soil?” The small-minded talk made Trixie’s stomach turn.

Brian took Trixie’s hand: “I would never want to marry someone like you, бля́ди, when I already have the most beautiful woman in the world.”

The two ladies gasped and clutched their furs, and Trixie didn’t need google translate to tell her Katya had just called them bitches. Wow, now that took some balls!

Katya grabbed Trixie’s hand and led her away.

“My crossdressing prince,” Trixie sniffled.

Trixie didn’t want to cry, but when they were back in the car, a couple of stupid tears dripped down her face anyways. Trixie cursed and tried to wipe them away. She knew Betty and Phi Phi were just jealous, but it still hurt. Trixie didn’t have a college degree or a perfect figure or know how to speak Russian. She was just some small, town girl from America that had gotten lucky.

“M-maybe they’re right,” she whispered as she wiped her cheeks. “I don’t deserve you.”

“No, don’t listen to them. Those Bitter Betties have been after me for years and years,” Katya tried to reassure her.

Trixie played with the diamond necklace between her gloved fingertips. It felt too tight around her throat. She felt like she couldn’t breathe.

“I- I don’t deserve any of this, and you’re going to get bored of me and send me back. You’ll find some beautiful, busty Russian, who knows how to do her face and cook and clean and- and” Trixie had worked herself up even more so that now she was sobbing.

“Shhh, Trixie, no-”

“I don’t want to go back to America. Please don’t make me go back. Please. How do you say that in Russian? I-I can’t remember. I have nowhere to go. Don’t send me back-”

“Trixie, no one’s sending you anywhere,” Katya said firmly as she took Trixie’s hands and squeezed. Trixie pressed her forehead against Katya’s, trying to swallow back the fear.

“I wanted you because I knew you’d see the real me. In fact, you’re the only person in the fucking world who knows who I really am. Everyone at work? They see Brian. You don’t. You see the truth.”

Trixie wiped her eyes, embarrassment now washing over her after her meltdown. “Ugh, I must’ve ruined my makeup.”

“You still look beautiful, and we’re already done with pictures, so it doesn’t matter.”

“Can we go home then?” Trixie asked, linking her arm with Katya’s.

“Да.”

—–

Thirty Minutes After Marital Contract

“I left a wedding gift on the bed,” Katya said.

Trixie’s heart skipped a beat when she saw the large box resting on the comforter.

“Open it while I get changed.” Katya pressed a kiss to her cheek and disappeared into the bathroom.

Trixie carefully undid the bow. Lying inside was a tiny, lace thong and a skimpy negligee. They were both a creamy off-white, like slutty re-imaginings of her wedding dress.

With a smirk, Trixie began undoing her wedding dress. She was careful not to let it pool on the ground, instead hanging it carefully in the closet. As she moved back towards the bed, she kicked off her underwear and undid her bra so she could change into the sexy set Katya had given her.

That wasn’t all that was in the box, though. Underneath the lingerie was some sort of harness. Trixie picked it up and inspected it closely. There were leg holes, most likely, and also a metal ring. Huh?

Before she could wonder any more, the bathroom door opened. Katya stood in the doorway with a full face of makeup and loose, flowing hair, which fell over her racy, red lingerie.

“You look gorgeous,” Katya breathed. The sight of her made Trixie’s stomach flutter.

“Right back atcha, wifey,” Trixie replied as she held up the harness in her hand. “But, uh, you want me to put this thing on?”

Katya shifted and looked at the carpet: “Uh, yeah, if you could.”

“This is for a strap on, right?” Trixie pressed, and Katya flushed a deep red. This wasn’t Trixie’s first time with a toy like this, though. She stepped into the harness and tightened it around her thick hips.

“Yeah, I um, I have the, uh, other part in the dresser,” Katya stammered. Trixie hadn’t seen her like this before. She crossed the room and took Katya’s hands.

“You sound nervous, baby. What’s wrong?”

“I’m not nervous, I’ve just…” Katya let out a breath. “I’ve never done this before?”

Trixie blinked. “How about this morning?”

“That doesn’t count, that was just rubbing. This is actual penetration.” Katya’s hands were sweaty in Trixie’s grip. “I’ve never let anyone…inside of me.”

“Don’t worry, gorgeous…I’ll be gentle,” Trixie promised with a smirk, and Katya gratefully leaned in to kiss her.

Katya looked so lovely in her luxurious, blonde wig. Trixie appreciatively ran her hands down Katya’s sides and then rested it over the bulge in her red panties.

“So are you my little, wife now?” Trixie teased as she rubbed Katya’s cock through the lace.

“Mhm,” Katya played along. “You going to take care of me on our honeymoon? Be the honey to my moon?”

Trixie giggled as she rubbed the heel of her hand against Katya: “You’re so weird.”

Then she pressed Katya back against the bed. Trixie loved the way Katya’s hard, lean body felt against her soft curves. She wrapped her legs around Katya waist and slowly shifted, smirking as she saw how hard Katya was squirming.

Trixie leaned down, so her lips were right next to Katya’s ear: “You want me inside you, baby? Need me to spread open your pretty cheeks and finger you like you need? Hm?”

Katya only whimpered, so Trixie continued.

“Bet you’ve been waiting so long for me to stretch you open, baby. So wet and desperate for me. So needy.”

Trixie kissed her lips and then went to the drawer where she found the lube sitting right on top.

“Turn around. Want you on all fours,” Trixie ordered, and Katya immediately obeyed. Trixie got a rush from the power from bossing the usually powerful Russian around.  

Trixie pulled down Katya’s panties and slicked up her fingers with lube, and then gently rubbed them against Katya’s rim. Katya made a little, whining noise and desperately thrust her hips back.  

“Shhh,” Trixie soothed as she pushed one finger inside. Katya’s toes curled.

Trixie felt herself getting wet as she pushed another finger inside Katya, scissoring her open. She loved watching Katya’s face and how she parted her lips like she’d never felt anything this good before.

“Should I go slower?”

“Faster,” Katya growled, Russian accent more pronounced. She desperately canted her hips up into Trixie’s fingers.  

“Steady,” Trixie warned as she slipped in a third finger and gripped her. Katya’s ass was smaller than hers but firmer. Trixie grasped it. Hard.

Katya’s body was all hard edges, but, under Trixie’s soothing touch, she softened. It was so intimate to feel Katya like this, to touch her where nobody else had.

“You’re doing so good, baby” Trixie praised in her ear and Katya keened at her words.

Trixie felt her thighs becoming moist as she watched Katya start to break under her. She almost wanted to finish her off like this, curling her fingers inside of her and pressing until Katya came so hard she wouldn’t be able to walk. But this was their wedding night, Katya deserved something more intimate.

“Where’s the other part?” Trixie asked, slowing her fingers. Katya pushed back against her, trying to chase the pace Trixie had set.

“It’s in the drawer on the left,” Katya breathed. Trixie pressed a kiss to her lower back as she pulled her fingers out.

“On your back, baby,” Trixie instructed before climbing off the bed. In the drawer was the final piece to the toy - the dildo itself. It was short, for a dildo’s standards. Though, it had a nice girth to it. It was also a lovely pale pink, perfect for Trixie.

Trixie stroked her fingers around the length as she attached it to the harness. Katya was watching her, over her shoulder, with half hooded eyes.

“Ready?” Trixie asked, running her fingers down Katya’s torso. She rubbed the toy against the curve of Katya’s ass. Trixie liked the way it easily slid against Katya’s lubricated skin, ready to sink inside her.

“Any slower, a-and we’d start to go backwards.”

“Don’t wanna be a rushing Russian.”

“Stupid,” Katya laughed and then sharply inhaled as Trixie pushed inside her. Trixie steadied Katya with her hands on her hips as the toy entered her. Trixie was as gentle as she could, careful not to force it in. It was thicker than Trixie’s fingers, but Katya easily pushed back.

“Trixie,” Katya moaned, voice breaking.

“Shhh, that’s it, baby. That’s it.”

“You feel so good,” Katya gasped. “Better than I ever imagined.”

“You haven’t felt anything yet,” Trixie promised. She pulled her hips back then pushed forward, making Katya whine.

“Now who’s being a tease,” Katya said through gritted teeth.

“I don’t want to rush my Russian,” Trixie laughed.

She pressed a kiss to Katya’s shoulder and started thrusting shallowly. Although the toy was fake, it felt like an extension of Trixie. She feel it pressing against her pelvis as she moved her hips, an ever present weight. It was intimate in a way Trixie wasn’t expecting. Even though it wasn’t a part of her that was fucking Katya, there was so much more to it. Their chests were flush against each other, and Katya’s eyes were trusting as she stared up at her. This was so much more than the hurried fucking she did back in America.

“Faster, please,” Katya pleaded. Her lids were hooded, and her lips were parted in a sweet, little ‘o’. Her hands dug into Trixie’s shoulders as her pace quickened.

“So needy,” Trixie laughed. It was so hot fucking her wife open like this. Trixie gripped Katya’s thigh and pulled it around her waist, bringing them closer. Always closer.

“It feels so good,” Katya groaned. Katya looked more and more out of it the faster and harder Trixie went. Her eyes were glassy, like she was far away. The flexing of her fingers was the only thing that let Trixie know she was still grounded.

“Is this everything you’d hope it would be?” Trixie asked. She reached up to tuck a piece of hair behind Katya’s ear. God, she was so lucky. Katya kissed her and nodded.

“S-so close.”

“I’ll bring you there, baby, I’ve got you.”

Trixie sank down with a kiss, thrusting into Katya, She could feel Katya’s hard cock pressed against her own tummy.

Trixie leaned down to whisper against her lips: “Such a needy girl, aren’t you? Need me to fuck you like this, huh?”

Katya wrapped her legs tighter around Trixie’s back, moaning, and came untouched, with a sharp gasp. Trixie kissed her as the cum splattered all over her stomach.

Trixie pulled out of Katya, still dripping wet herself. She ran her hands down her cum-splattered chest and then licked her fingertips.

“Taste so good, baby,” Trixie purred. “Need you now just like you need me.”

She stood and sensually slipped the strap-on off. It had left red marks on her skin. Trixie rubbed the sore strap marks and then herself. Oh god, Trixie was aching for it.

Katya’s cock was spent, so Trixie crawled up the blonde’s chest instead, so she was right above her parted lips. She lowered herself down, so Katya’s hot breath was curling against her wetness. Katya gave her a tentative kitten lick.

“Any slower?” Trixie mocked, echoing Katya’s earlier words.

Katya reached up to grip her hips: “Give me a second to breathe- yes?”

“Breathe later.”

Trixie moved down, and she was down around Katya’s face. She moaned as Katya licked her, throwing her head back.

“I’ve never fucked someone I was married to,” Trixie giggled, words escaping from her parted lips. Or someone I cared about.

Katya pushed her back- “I’d hope not.”

Trixie moved down again, so Katya’s tongue was deep inside her again. She had no will power. Trixie needed to ride it out.

“K-katya,” Trixie gasped as she squeezed her thick thighs around Katya’s face, desperate for more.

Trixie came with a loud groan.

“If I knew married sex was this good, I would have gotten married years ago.”

Katya rolled onto her stomach: “Mh, glad you waited for me, and my grand internet proposal.”

“Is that your life motto- propose quick and fuck slow?” Trixie teased, stealing another kiss.

“And what if it was? What would that make me, huh?”

“Perfect.”

—–

One Week After Marital Contact

They fucked once in the morning and usually once at night, unless they fell asleep watching cartoons. They fucked in the kitchen and on the washing machine. Between the sheets and in the shower. They fucked slowly and then furiously.  

The sex was only a small part of it though. Trixie started to become a part of this foreign world.

She easily bade Katya ‘poka’ in the mornings, sweetly grabbing her by the tie and kissing her. She told her ‘privyet’ when she came back home, proudly holding up a plate of (slightly misshapen) blinchiki. She listen to Katya’s stories of corrupt coworkers, sitting on her knee, and interjecting with ‘shto???’ at the right moments.

Trixie, despite her promise to explore the world, found herself trapped. She paced the rooms and named the objects to herself in Russian, She beat the rugs, polished the Matrushka, and tried to keep her mind busy with Language Learning Lab exercises.

Still, she sat by the window, watching the snow fall, and imagined going out.

“You’re not a prisoner,” Katya sighed as she saw Trixie gazing one morning.

“Then why do I feel like one?”

“Go out then, Trixie! Go and explore Moscow. You have the credit card I gave you?”

“Da,” Trixie nodded as she leaned up to adjust Katya’s tie. She still didn’t want to leave without Katya. Her Russian was broken and embarrassing.

Instead, she dusted their marriage photo on the mantle and changed the sheets. Trixie collapsed on the couch and flipped through Russian channels, settling on the cartoons because she could understand them the most.

Trixie saw her bag, the only thing she’d taken with her from America, pushed under the sofa. She picked it up and started to clean out old receipts and a piece of crumpled paper…

It was the drawing Adore had made for her on the plane! And at the bottom was an address! Scribbled on the side was ‘so you can teach me to dance.’

Trixie smiled and hugged it to her chest. She changed into a new, pink dress Katya had bought her. She pinned up her hair like she saw the girls do in Moscow. Katya had also given her a faux-fur coat.

She kissed her diamond necklace for good luck and set off into the world. Cars raced past, turning the snow into slush. Trixie let out an excited puff of white air. Everything was so new and exciting. Why hadn’t she left sooner?

Trixie pressed her hands against shop windows. She had a credit card in her purse and could buy anything in the world! It was nothing like being in America, where the poverty and heat of Texas was all she’d ever known.

Couples passed her, jabbering in Russian, and Trixie thought of Katya, stuck in an office chair and a suit she hated. Trixie was so grateful for her.

Trixie didn’t stop at any stores though. She kept going until she’d found Adore’s address, a huge mansion.

She knocked on the door.

“Privyet,” Trixie told the redheaded woman who answered. “Gde…um…Gge Adore?”

The lady muttered something in Russian and then called Adore’s name, voice echoing throughout the house. Trixie shifted in her boots and wished that she’d let Katya do her makeup this morning. It always looked better when she did it.

“Shto?” Came a petulant whine.

Adore’s face popped out, and her eyes widened when she saw Trixie. She threw her hands around her waist and then said something in rapid Russian to the toad-like woman.

“What did you say?” Trixie asked as she took off her coat and came inside.

“I told Ms. Ginger you were my dance instructor,” Adore said with with mischievous grin. “Come on- I want to show you something.”

She took her to what looked like a studio filled to the brim with dresses.

“What’s this?”

“My daddy’s private sewing room. He loves to make dresses for me and my Mommy. I wanted him to make some for you, but he didn’t know your measurements.”

Adore picked up a ruler and started to ‘measure’ Trixie.

“How’s your wife? Exactly how you’d pictured?”

Trixie bit her lip: “Mh, maybe a little different.”

“Good different or bad different?”

“Good. Definitely good.”

Once Adore had taken her measurements they went to her playroom, which was a whole room of toys, to change into her dancing clothes.

“Wait- you can’t teach me here, Trixie.”

“Why-”

“Let’s go to the dance studio in the basement.”

And Trixie had thought Katya was rich? Mr. Haylock and his wife were clearly rolling in it.

Trixie had danced for fiteen years, so she still remembered enough to show Adore all the ballet positions. The studio had a bar and full length mirrors. For the first time in forever, Trixie found herself smiling back at her own face.

“What did Ginger mean dance instructor? We fired Laganja last-”

Roy’s face changed from frustration to relief when he saw Trixie.

“Oh, privyet, Mr. Haylock! Adore and I were just finishing up,” Trixie said. “I-I’m not charging you guys anything for this, so don’t worry.”

“I’m paying her with Russian lessons,” Adore whispered.

Roy only smiled and gave her a hug. Trixie wasn’t sure what she’d done to deserve it, but she patted his back. Then they went to have borscht. Trixie had gotten accustomed to the red beet soup, though she didn’t quite like it. Adore made a face.

“Finish all of your borscht, Adore Delano Haylock, and I’ll give you ice cream.” 

Trixie laughed as Adore shoveled it down by the spoon fulls. It’d been so long since she’d talked with other people, besides Katya. Everything they did or said made Trixie’s eyes light up.

“Thank you again,” Roy whispered as Adore went with Ginger to get ice cream. “This means so much to her. She loves dance but kept firing all the Russian instructors Courtney had found her. I think she’s still angry that we moved?”

“I didn’t love America. Hated it on the good days, but…” Trixie bit her lip. “You can’t help miss the only thing you’ve ever known.”

“Adore says you have a wife-”

“Husband. Well…uh, I mean,” Trixie stumbled around. “It’s a little complicated.”

“I’d love to have you and your complicated spouse over for dinner.”

“M-maybe.”

Adore ran back with a big bowl of ice cream, which she gave to Trixie: “Pinkie promise you’ll come back tomorrow? I didn’t get time to teach you the alphabet yet!”

Trixie gave her a hug and ‘pinkie promised.’ Ginger gave her a ride back to the apartment, and Trixie tried to speak to her in broken Russian, until the lady finally snapped and told Trixie she spoke English. Even that couldn’t bring down Trixie’s mood.

She made them omelettes for dinner and hummed the dance tune. When Katya came home, instead of the usual ‘privyet,’ Trixie threw herself around her.

“Wow, someone had a good day?” Katya laughed and kissed her. “What happened?”

How was it in Texas that she’d forced herself to forget dance, to bury that dream, but in Russia she felt liberated? She wished that Katya could be as free here as she did.

She leaned her head against Katya’s, trying to tell her all that telepathically. Instead, she said- “I think I’ve found myself a job as a dance teacher. I’m just getting paid in Russian lessons, but it’s worth it.”

“That’s my smart wife!” Katya exclaimed. “So proud of you. You’ll be ready for this dinner party in a week, da?”

“Are all those bitter Bettys going to be there?”

“They can’t hurt you,” Katya promised.

“But they’ll try their best.”

——

Dinner Party From Hell

In their first contact, Katya had messaged her- ‘I have an important dinner party in two weeks, and I need a wife to advance in the social ladder.’

So…this was it.

Trixie was in an elegant gown that Roy (thanks to Adore’s begging) had designed for her. The silhouette of the purple gown accentuated Trixie’s curves. She felt like a Hollywood starlet.

She mouthed the polite Russian phrases that she’d learned over and over again, but she had such a shitty memory.

“Relax,” Katya whispered as she adjusted Trixie’s diamond necklace.  “You’re going to be brilliant, baby. All you have to do is laugh at their shitty jokes and look like a goddess, which you do-”

“Wow, way to make me feel like some plastic accessory,” Trixie snapped. The nerves were getting to her.

“Alaska is the only one you really have to impress. She’s Aaron’s wife, and he’ll listen to Alaska’s opinion.”

“I know! Alaska is the name you keep saying every day,” Trixie muttered. “Alaska this and Alaska that.”

Katya pulled her in by the waist, as if to kiss her, but whispered instead: “Shhh, relax.”

Trixie couldn’t relax. She felt as though all the Russian she’d learned was slipping from her mind. Trixie tapped her foot the whole car ride to the restaurant. Her anxiety made her have to go, further adding to her discomfort.

She’d pictured Alaska to be another Russian hag, but she was gorgeous. She looked like she belonged on an advertisement for luxurious hotels. Her dress was made of nothing but Swarovski Crystals, but her gleaming eyes were her best accessory.

“Privyet, Katya!” Alaska beamed and kissed both cheeks before turning to her. “Privyet, Trixie.”

She’d almost forgotten how to say hello. The words caught in her throat. Aaron, suave in a suit, firmly shook both of their hands. The two of them looked like the poster children for ‘Russian Lifestyles.’

“And…how are you?” Alaska asked in heavily accented English.

“Хорошо,” Trixie replied even though she really meant terrible.

“Oh, wow. Your Russian is so good,” Alaska praised, but her tight lips seemed to suggest otherwise.

Trixie’s heart clenched as Alaska walked over to the other wives. They were all speaking in rapid Russian with diamond rings on their hands big enough to be paper weights. Each of them glanced at Trixie like she was a lost maid. But she only had to impress Alaska, right? So who gave a shit what they thought? 

She tried to say in Russian: “What are we having for dinner?”

Alaska just stared at her until she felt stupid for even trying. Trixie crossed her hands. Katya was talking to Aaron, glancing over at her, and Trixie gave a weak smile, which didn’t reach her eyes.

Trixie shifted uncomfortably. The constant nervousness was not helping her bladder. She really had to pee, but didn’t want to ask Alaska where the bathroom was. While Aaron was briefly greeting another guest, Katya pointed her to the ‘туалет.’

She went to the bathroom and locked the door. Could she just stay here all night?

Trixie turned on her phone as she sat down on the toilet. She had two missed messages from Roy.

Can you come over for dinner? -R

Adore really wanted to meet your spouse -R

Maybe tomorrow -T

At a dinner party rn -T

Have a fun night! -R

If I make it through this night, Trixie thought. She didn’t know how to fit in with these Bitter Bettys. She didn’t know what to say or how to say it.

Trixie went back to find the table covered in cold platters. Where was the bread bowl? All she could see were pickle slices and fish eggs. Her stomach turned.

Katya protectively rested her arm behind Trixie’s shoulder, and she gratefully leaned in.

‘I want to go home’, Trixie wanted to say.

“How much longer?” She asked instead.

“Just until dessert.”

But dessert didn’t come until after the first course of potatoes and the second course of meat and the third course of more fucking meats. There was food everywhere, but nothing Trixie wanted to eat. Everyone was talking, but she was staring at her phone, wishing she could disappear.

Alaska leaned across the table: “Trixie- vhere are you from?”

“Uh, Texas? A little town.”

“And how do you like Russia?”

Trixie tried to think of how to say ‘it’s beautiful’ in Russian, but the phrase slipped her mind. She opened her mouth and then closed it, feeling dumb.

“Snow,” Trixie finally sputtered out instead.

Alaska laughed, but it sounded more like she was laughing at Trixie then with her. She played with Aaron’s tie as she leaned in and whispered something into his ear. Aaron snickered.  

Wow, way to be subtle, Trixie thought as she crossed her arms.

When they came home that night, Trixie buried her face into Katya’s neck and cried. She felt like she’d failed her.

“You just asked me to do one thing a-and I couldn’t,” Trixie sobbed. “Just ship my dumb ass back to America.”

“Shhh, no one’s being shipped anywhere. Stop saying that. You tried your best, and that’s all I care about.”

Katya drew them a hot, bubble bath, and Trixie relaxed into her arms. Here, at least, she felt safe.

“I didn’t bring you here just for that stupid party, Trixie,” Katya reassured her. “There’ll be more and more of those.”

“Then why did you?”

“Because I wanted to share my truth with someone. Someone who wouldn’t judge me like they all do.”

Trixie sniffled: “Judgmental bitches are universal, huh?”

“Except you, Trixie. You don’t judge me.”

“Stop saying things like that,” Trixie giggled as she gathered bubble up between her fingertips. “It’ll just make me fall in love with you.”

“Perfect.”

——

The Dinner Party From Heaven

Katya shifted in her dress, adjusting the silver straps, and Trixie kissed her. Despite her nerves, Katya seemed much more comfortable in heels than dress shoes.

“Are you sure they won’t care?”

Trixie squeezed Katya’s hands: “Don’t you trust me?”

“Unfortunately.”

Trixie smacked her arm playfully then pressed a careful kiss to her lips, making sure not to smudge their makeup.

“They all know about you already, and they don’t care. Adore just really wants to meet you.”

Katya smiled softly.

“Why does she want to meet me so bad? Is it because you’re constantly gushing about me?”

“Mhm, constantly,” Trixie assued. “My beautiful, rich wife who rescued me from America. It’s like a fairytale.”

Katya seemed more assured now. With a final check to make sure they had everything they needed, the couple headed out of the house.

When they got to the Haylock’s place, it was the wife who answered the door and not Ginger. She was dripping in jewels as usual, and greeted them with a bright grin and kisses to their cheeks.

“Privyet, it’s so good to finally meet you,” Courtney gushed. “You both look beautiful. Let me take your coats and you can go to the dining room. Adore has been so excited all day.”

They had barely begun shrugging off their jackets when the sound of small feet running through the halls drew their attention. Adore rounded the corner, her eyes lighting up when she saw them.

“Yay, I thought I heard you!” Adore stood by her mother’s side and eyed Katya closely.

“Trixie, I think your wife is prettier than you are,” she said in a serious tone. “I bet she wouldn’t wear sweatpants in public.”

“Adore!” Courtney reprimanded, but Trixie laughed.

“It’s okay. Adore, you didn’t even say hello to Katya. I brought her all the way here so you could finally meet her.”

“Oh, yeah. Privyet, Katya,” Adore said, turning her attention to her. Katya smiled shyly.

“Privyet, Adore, I’ve heard so much about you,” Katya replied.

“Why don’t we continue this in the dining room? Roy’s just finishing up setting the table,” Courtney offered. At the mention of her father Adore perked up and grabbed Trixie’s hand.

“C’mon, my daddy made vegan empanadas, they’re my favorite,” Adore gushed as she pulled Trixie along.

Everything that had gone wrong at Katya’s dinner party seemed to go so right at the Haylock’s. Everyone was at ease, conversation flowing in both Russian and English. It turned out Courtney was a vegan, so Trixie didn’t have to worry about avoiding meat at the dinner table.

Plus, Katya looked so happy. She kept tucking her hair behind her ear and grinning, her posture more at ease. There was no need for her to pretend she was someone she wasn’t here. There was no one to impress. It was just two families gathered together at a table enjoying each other’s company.

As Roy and Courtney got up to go grab the ice cream, Trixie took Katya’s hand under the table and squeezed.

“Are you having a good time?” Trixie asked. Katya leaned in and kissed her softly.

“You have better friends than I do,” Katya replied. “So yes, I’m having a great time.”

“Those aren’t your friends, they’re necessary evils,” Trixie shot back.

“Mh, true. But if it was not for them, I would never have met you. So there is some good that comes out of having to impress them,” Katya replied. Her eyes flickered to Trixie’s necklace, shining proudly between her clavicles.

Katya looked so soft in the low light of the room. Trixie was struck again by how lucky she was. How could such a perfect person want her? Sitting in such an extravagant house, finally feeling free for the first time in her life. It was like a dream.

“How do you say I love you in Russian?” Trixie blurted out.

“Я люблю тебю,” Katya slowly said, and Trixie shivered because she recognized those words from Katya’s late night whispering. These were the words she’d said at three am when she thought Trixie was asleep.

“Ya,” Trixie slowly repeated as she leaned in for a kiss. “Leblue tebyew.”

If Trixie had pronounced it wrong, she’d have a long time to practice.

#trixya #trixie mattel #katya zamolodchikova #trans!katya #lesbian au #mail order bride au #squeaky #stella #rpdr fanfiction #contacting russia #submission

[jaimiegirlz123x]

Power Rangers Aurora Defenders Season 2 Characters Revealed!

Main Characters: Trevor McCullen/Red Dragon Ranger II 16. March 22, 1998. American (San Fran, CA). Has an older sister (Crystal). Human, brown eyes/hair. Typically wears red & blue denim jeans, Nike sneakers. Trains & teaches karate at his high school. Quick-witted and helpful - especially to family and friends. Kevin Devito/Green Lion Ranger II 16. August 1, 1999. Latin American (Lincoln, Nebraska, until he moved to San Fran, California at 3) Is raised by his mother (Sarah). Human, black eyes, dark brown hair. Typically he wear a green sweatshirt & denim jeans, Adidas sneakers. Volunteers with Ms. Tower at her pet shop; taking care of the pets, and helping his mother in the garden. Shy, kind, gets very serious in battle, and sometimes he panics and blames himself a bunch of times. Marty Logan/Blue Unicorn Ranger II 16. November 27, 1998. American (Manhattan, New York before moving to San Fran at 4). Living on his own. Human, black eyes, dirty blonde hair. Typically wears a light blue shirt jacket over a dark blue t-shirt, blue ripped jeans, sketchers sneakers. Volunteers as a DJ in Club Star (a club) under a normal German man: Boss. Jokester, stubborn, easily distracted by his black IPhone 5s, breaking the 4th wall, and he is very loyal to his friends. Stanley West/Yellow Griffin Ranger II 15. January 12, 1999. American (Columbia, South Carolina. Before he ran away with his cousin when he was 14, until he got separated from him and is met by a kind old lady in San Fran. At 15, she passed away from a terminal illness). He is now living in his own. Human, Lime green eyes, dark brown hair. Typically wears a midnight blue jacket, plain yellow shirt, dark brown wrinkled shorts, cowboy boots or his cowboy hat. World traveler and does some of his classes online. Honest, convincing to help his friends (including Marty), trustworthy, doesn’t care about other people but he is a very nice person. Gina Anderson/Pink Phoenix Ranger II 15. May 21, 1999 American (Sacramento, CA before moving to San Fran when her family transferred her to another school). She is living with her family, but her parents (Frisco and Ginnifer) are traveling the world in geology and acting, her older brother: Sage is in the military and is sometimes cared by her babysitter: Cassie. Human, blue eyes, blonde hair. Typically wears a blue blouse over a white shirt, light pink knife-pleated skirt, white socks, and pink Oxford shoes. Follows with many of class-related clubs, sometimes goes to night school. Kind-hearted, helpful, soft-spoken, intelligent, self-control, sometimes annoyed. White Tiger Ranger will be coming soon! Allies: Delta 5000 Unknown Age. Secret Cave. White and Blue Robot created by Kameo, blue lights for eyes. Assigned to help the Aurora Defenders and Kaku. New Gorma Tribe Members: General Zero Unknown Age. Gorma, white humanoid, 1/4 black solid part for the hair, three red scars from his past. Lived throughout his life in the high class with the first emperor, until he was banished by an old enemy into a spaceship. Shadam killed his family (Wife, two children). Typically wears an Italian aristocrat suit; dark blue jacket; three golden buttons stuck together, black men’s shirt, blue neck collar, brown shorts, brown socks, fencing sword holster, black top-hat with a golden lace around it with an pin of the Gorma eye in the front, black/gold masquerade mask, black gloves, and black shoes. As a British general; he displays loyalty, kindness, strictness, classiness, and honor to his sternness. Although at times he questions sometimes for understanding the situation. Vampire Countess 100,000 (supposedly). Gorma/Vampire hybrid (originally a Gorma before personal issues happened and sold her soul to the devil to be reborn a vampire) white humanoid, light purple eyes/dark hair/lips, and a dark red marking around her right eye. She lived in a mansion before her life changed for her family turning into vampires too, then she was banished by Gara into the Gorma Spaceship. She was raised by her big family along with her personal butler, she once had a lover who cheated on her. Typically wears a giant glossy purple hat with a red eagle head on top of it, neon purple collar, purple/gold cloak, dark purple shoulder pads, purple/gold/neon purple French dress; red strings tied to the two parts of the dress covering her breasts, neon purple lace belt, black ball gown skirt; golden streaks revealing the purple parts, dark grey lace; bloody vampire fangs attached. Black gloves and dark purple cutters attached for combat only, and purple short heels. She is a countess; an earl to her family, she is also an entertainer, dancing, singing, writing lyrics, and giving all the love for everyone. Bloody-thirsty for human/creature blood (but not her own kind), loves to fly and keep hidden with her bat wings (she doesn’t turn into a bat), giggles a lot, speaks French (her accent is also that), may act like lady with her black umbrella with a mini bat structure attached on the tip, but she is tough in battle. Nitro Unknown Age. Gorma Robot, Albert Einstein hair, he used to one of the monster scientist’s human Gorma, but he was always failure — according to Zydos. But somehow before the war he was too much of a failure that the brute banished him to the Gorma Spaceship (making him the first) as his life is fading away from an old age, mistreated Clownbrains that were also banished took him into a laboratory to turn him into a robot and he continued to stay in the Spaceship for the rest of life. His family is unknown. Typically wears a white lab coat, black shirt, and black boots. He acts like a grumpy old man, but he always has a trusted heart. He sometimes usually hold his silver cane, on his imprinted Gorma eye; it opens to reveal a light bulb attached to it when he comes with an idea, and on his back has two rocket jet packs he uses to travel. Dairanger character changes: Master Kaku He is now a brown statue standing on a podium; in a pose of him sitting connecting to his Chi-Powers. Akomaru He is still the same kid; not aging, he is now wearing a black cape with the golden Gorma eye fabric sewed in the center. Clonwbrains (Cotpotros) They're the same as they are: serving any Gorma.

If you want to help me create the concept art of my characters, direct message me. I'll give you the inspiration by pictures I found online, original concept I made, and changes. (Same for the locations)

#gosei sentai dairanger #SuperSentai #powerrangers #adaptation #fanfiction

[thestoryofsylviafemlock]

Year 1, Chapter 1: The Letter

“Mama do it again, do it again!”

A smiling lady dressed in all black pulls out her wand and makes a motion with her hand while saying a few magic words. After doing this, a large crow appears and soars around the room, disappearing after swooping over young Sylvia’s head.

“Again, again, again!”

The lady goes to wave her wand once more, but before she is able to say the words, a tall, dark man kicks down the door, followed by several other men. The lady from before quickly stands in front of Sylvia, and another man comes running in from the other room wondering what all the fuss is about. Before Sylvia even knows what’s going on, there is a flash of blue light, and the man falls to the floor. The lady starts crying and holds on to Sylvia, before she is taken away and Sylvia is left crying, while being dragged to a black car.

*Gasp* Sylvia wakes from her nightmare with a jump. She has had this nightmare for years, but she has no idea why. Sylvia is almost 11 years old, with thick, black hair, and ghostly white skin. She looks over at her clock and sees that it is 4:30 AM. Knowing that she’ll never get back to sleep, she gets out of bed and starts getting dressed. Her bedroom is quite small, with only a bed, table, and a large black wardrobe, where she has only a few outfits and the one piece she has from her family: a silver necklace with a black triangle charm. Sylvia goes to get her clothes when the small box containing the necklace falls off the shelf in the cabinet. She picks it up off the floor and takes out the necklace. Every time she looks at it she tries to remember where it came from, but her past is only a blur. She puts it back in the wardrobe and goes to grab her clothes when she hears a scream from down the hallway coming from Miss Blackridge. Sylvia opens the door and looks down the hall to see Miss Blackridge dancing in fear next to a spider on the floor

“SPIDER! SPIDER ON THE FLOOR! I TOLD YOU THIS FLOOR WASN’T CLEAN! KILL IT!”

Sylvia walks up to Miss Blackridge and the spider and kneels down to pick up the spider.  Carefully, she puts her hand next to the spider and directs it toward her hand.

“ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND? YOU CHILDREN ARE DISGUSTING! YOU ARE ALL CLEANING THESE FLOORS RIGHT NOW!”

Miss Blackridge was never very nice. She would always call them pests, and yell at them to clean up even when the place was spotless. Sylvia had always found it odd that someone who hates children could take the job of caring for children. By now, the other children had woken up from all the shouting, and had started cleaning the floors. Sylvia opened up the window and gently set the spider down. She has always had a connection with the “strange” creatures. She cares for all the insects, rats, and reptiles, especially snakes. One time she could have sworn the snake in the back garden was talking to her.

“Did you hear that Harry Potter is turning 11 this year? I hope he’ll go to Griffinmoth with the rest of us!” said the large-mouthed Harriet Elwood, who loved Harry and would talk about him every day.

“Don’t be silly, He’s famous, he’ll probably go to one of those posh schools, like Hogwarts or Durmstang.” Remarked Romilda Pluck, the bossy, pointed nose girl who always felt the need to put people in their place.

Sylvia never understood why people love Harry Potter so much. She thought of him as just a boy who got lucky. Although, with all the stories she’s heard about You-Know-Who, she is a bit curious. After scrubbing ALL the floors, the children were finally allowed to get breakfast. Miss Blackridge never bought the good food, it was always grey porridge or old meatloaf, but they would eat it anyway. After breakfast, Sylvia went to the doorstep to collect the mail. All they ever received were newspapers and strange love letters for Miss Blackridge, but this time something caught her eye. Sylvia pulled the envelope out of the pile of love letters and read the shining emerald ink. It said:

Miss S. Femlock

Room at the end of the hall

Blackridge Orphanage

Windsor

           She couldn’t believe it! No one ever gets letters, and here it was, a letter just for her! She quickly turns it over to open it when she sees the big, purple seal. Sylvia could have never imagined it. The seal had a coat of arms; a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake all surrounding a large letter ‘H’ And that’s when she knew. This letter could only come from one place: Hogwarts. Sylvia ran inside, threw the rest of the mail on the table, and sat down to rip open her letter. Everyone crowded around her to see what was in the envelope when Miss Blackridge pushed through the crowd and snatched the letter out of her hand.

“Hey, that’s mine!” Sylvia shouted.

           Miss Blackridge ignored her as she took out the letter and began reading.

           “Impossible…” She said. “How could they want you?”

           She stood there in confusion when Sylvia walked up and took her letter back. All the children of the orphanage were crowding around her by now as she took out her letter and attempted to read without the rest of the children shouting at her.

           “What does it say?” Asked Romilda.

           “Tell me! Tell me! Tell me!” Shouted another little girl in the back of the crowd.

Sylvia wanted to read this letter by herself, so she pushed through the crowd and made her way to her room, her hand still clutching the letter.

           “What are you doing? We wanna see! Come back!” the children shouted at her. Sylvia didn’t respond. She was too excited to read her letter that she just ignored all the children coming after her. Finally, Sylvia was sitting on her bed, away from all the nosy children. She unfolded her letter and read:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY

Uniform

First year students will require:

1.       Three sets of plain work robes (black)

2.       One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear

3.       One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)

4.       One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)

Please note that all pupils’ clothes should carry name tags

           Set Books

           All students should have a copy of each of the following:

           The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk

           A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot

           Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling

           A Beginners’ Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch

           One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore

           Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger

           Fantastic Beats and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander

           The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble

           Other Equipment

           1 wand

           1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)

           1 set glass or crystal phials

           1 telescope

           1 set brass scales

Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad

 PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS

            Sylvia was overcome with joy, and her mind was racing with thoughts about her new life at Hogwarts. There was one thing that confused her, why would they want her? She’s just a loney child who lives in an orphanage. If anyone, Romilda should get accepted, at least she has good grades. But no matter, all Sylvia could think about now is all the magical adventures she’ll be having. She then flopped over onto her bed and stared at the ceiling when she realised, she doesn’t have any money to pay for all these supplies, and she was almost certain Miss Blackridge wouldn’t pay for it. ‘Maybe I could get a job’ Sylvia thought. No, that’s not possible at her age. ‘Or start a fundraiser’ But who would pay for her to go to school? About a million ideas came to her head, but none of them were possible at this point. Sylvia sunk into her bed, her once joyous mood fading away.

 Sylvia spent the rest the day with her head hung low and had begged Miss Blackridge for the money over 20 times, but with no success. By now it was dinner time, and the rest of the children had forgotten about Sylvia’s letter. Sylvia, however, couldn’t stop thinking about it. This was her chance to go to the best wizarding school in the world, there had to be another way. Just as William Bothby was telling another one of his outrageous stories, there was a knock on the front door. Miss Blackridge hurried to the door, as the children peered over to see who it was. Miss Blackridge casually opened to door to see a stiff, tall gentleman with long blond hair looking at her.

“Why, hello there sir, what brings you here on this, fine evening,” Miss Blackridge flirted, while grazing her hand against the opening of his coat. The man quickly brushed Miss Blackridge’s hand away and peered inside the room.

“I am here to speak to Miss L- Femlock, Miss Femlock” he spoke, quickly correcting himself.

“Well she is right over there; may I take your coat.?” Asked Miss Blackridge, hoping to talk to him more.

“No thank you,” replied the man, as he made his way over to Sylvia. The children stared as he walked past, Miss Blackridge following behind him. As he sat down across from Sylvia, the children listened in eagerly, careful not to get too close. After Miss Blackridge sat down next to him, he was clearly very annoyed, but carefully said:

“I would like to speak to her alone.”

“Sorry,” whispered Miss Blackridge, “Would you like some tea?”

“NO!” He shouted looking as if he was ready to implode. Sylvia could feel her heart pounding in her chest as Miss Blackridge nervously led the children up the stairs.

“Lucius Malfoy,” the man said, shaking Sylvia’s hand. “I have been told that you were accepted into Hogwarts.”

“Uh, yes, I got my letter this morning,” she spoke, still anxiously waiting to find out why this man had come.

“Good, good. Hogwarts is a great school. My wife and I have decided to pay for your supplies, your mother being a good friend of ours.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a large sack.

“Wait- you know my mother?” Sylvia was curious about her mother, but she knew she wouldn’t want to speak to her, even if she managed to find her.

“Yes, I know your mother. Here is your money, spend it wisely.”  He plopped the bag on the table in front of Sylvia and quickly left without another word. She couldn’t help to think the mention of her mother somehow made him leave. She slowly pulled open the bag to see it filled with sparkling golden galleons, and shining silver sickles. Sylvia was surprised to see that a stranger could give her so much, and she was very excited to go to Hogwarts.

I hope you like this story as I have been working very hard on it! This is just the beginning so there won’t be many twists and turns, but as the plot goes on... oh just you wait >:)

#harry potter #hp #harry potter fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #hp fanfic #hp fanfiction

[williambrooms]

Nosy thing... All but 21 and 22 since you answered them please.

Alright, here we go~!1: Virgin? Yep! I'm asexual, so I've never been interested in losing my virginity. Plus it's kind of hard to lose your virginity when even a skimpy bathing suit is close enough to nudity that it makes you nauseous.2: Shoe size10.5 and I usually go for the wide fit shoes when they're available.3: Do you smoke?Nope. Even if I wanted to, I'm an asthmatic. My lungs wouldn't be able to endure it. I can't even safely be friends with smokers, which stinks because I've met people who would have been my best buddies if I could breathe around them.4: Do you drink?I did when I was younger, but stopped because I nearly killed someone. In two days I can legally pick it back up, though.5: Do you take drugs?I've eaten a little pot, but nothing other than that. And yes, I ate it. Smoking it hurts.6: Age you get mistaken forAnywhere from 15 to 30. I guess I just have one of those faces...?7: Have tattoos?Not yet.8: Want any tattoos?I want a LOT of tattoos. The most important one is a dragon that I want to have wrapping around my torso. I have him completely planned out, I just have to get other things done first so that I won't have to worry about a surgery lopping off part of his paw or something.9: Got any piercings?Just my ears so far.10: Want any piercings?There are quite a few piercings that I want, all on the head. I want a few more piercings in each ear, a bolt through my left eyebrow or maybe two, then a few in my lips, and one in my tongue. 11: Best friend?A lovely lady named Lynda. She's incredibly patient with all of my issues and neediness. She's also the only person to never tell me to cheer up or think positive. She's genuinely interested in how I'm feeling and making things better instead of dismissing me or making me lie to her.12: Relationship statusWaiting for my Craig to come. (Forever alone, no one has the patience to date me.)13: Biggest turn onsBeing read to, cosplaying characters that my partner likes (especially if it's a character that I have things in common with), pet names, having my hair played with, and affectionate role-play bullying (Ex: Master/slave, teacher/student, DDlb, that kind of stuff). 14: Biggest turn offsManipulation (pretending is fine, actually doing it is not), any comments at all about my appearance, and a lack of jealousy. I want a partner who cares if someone else is trying to make a move on me and will get in their way. Leaving it alone and letting the person creep on me just because there's no risk of me liking them or, even worse, dwelling on it and sulking instead of saying/doing something about it is a very quick way to get me out of your life. 15: Favorite movieI have a lot, so it's really hard to pick, but I'm still very fond of BH6. 16: I’ll love you ifYou make me feel worthy of your time instead of letting me feel like a burden, which is exactly how I feel if I'm not given constant reassurance. Although I already love everyone, so this would only be if you wanted a romantic kind of love.17: Someone you missA friend I had to block. I love her more than air and I hated the way that things went, but she's much better off without me. As much as it hurts, I love her too much to let myself be a negative part of her life. 18: Most traumatic experienceI've had plenty of moments that people would consider way more traumatic than this, but the first time that I was called annoying is what stands out to me. I was probably in first grade and was already starting to realize that something was wrong with me, so I tried to tell a lady at daycare that I really trusted. She was the first person to tell me that I'm annoying when I complain and that the bad feelings would go away if I ignored them long enough. It's a pretty normal response, especially when it's a tiny child telling you that they're struggling to feel happy, but it never stopped hurting. 19: A fact about your personalityI'm extremely protective of the people around me.20: What I hate most about myselfEverything? I always wish that I could wake up as a different person, someone attractive and confident and mentally sound. I know it's impossible, but the only thing I like about myself is the stories that I write about other people. 23: My relationship with my sibling(s)My only sibling is dead, but we got along pretty well near the end of her life.24: My relationship with my parent(s)We have our good moments, but it's fairly strained most of the time, so I usually rely on friends for motherly and fatherly affection.25: My idea of a perfect dateCuddling on the couch together while we watch our favorite shows/movies and eat cheap takeout food.26: My biggest pet peevesPassive aggressive behavior. Nothing will make me resent you faster than acting like you care while tearing me down. I don't care what I did to upset you, either be honest and open or leave me alone.27: A description of the girl/boy I likeHe's tall, black hair, blue eyes, always wears a blue and yellow hat, has a blonde boyfriend. His name is Craig Tucker. If I had to pick a real person... it would be someone that I know I'll never have a chance with, which is why I avoid getting into situations like that.28: A description of the person I dislike the mostAbout 6'2", purple hair, always wears black, super obsessed with Creek, and goes by the name William. 29: A reason I’ve lied to a friendThe only lie that I tell is when I say that I'm okay and I'm not. I've honestly told that lie so many times to avoid making friends worry that I sometimes forget it's a lie.30: What I hate the most about work/schoolMy boss. He's a complete asshat and I can't wait to be free of the job I'm at.31: What your last text message says"Not eating. Not hungry."32: What words upset me the most?It's not a certain set of words or anything like that, but whenever someone comments on the way that I look, it makes me want to vomit. Even if it's a compliment, especially when it's a compliment, it makes me hate myself. I feel like a liar, like the lowest creature to ever exist, because I can't imagine it being true that anything is good about me. I hope I'll grow out of it someday, but for now, that's what upsets me most. It bothers me even more than being told to cheer up. 33: What words make me feel the best about myselfWhen people compliment the stories or role-play starters that I write. It happens very rarely, but it makes my entire day brighter.34: What I find attractive in womenMaternal instincts if they're aimed at me. Being cared for and loved is a big deal to me and it's always nice to meet someone who understands that those feelings don't have to be romantic.35: What I find attractive in menThe same care and love that I like in women, basically. I also prefer more dominant personalities. I'm pretty easy to crush, so having a more alpha person around makes me feel safer. 36: Where I would like to liveSomewhere cold and rainy. Preferably a small house, just big enough for me and one other person (plus some cats) with enough of a back yard for me to set up a hammock and take naps in it when it rains.37: One of my insecuritiesMy teeth. They all have calcification marks from when I had braces because I didn't understand how to clean them and one of my front teeth is a disgusting blue-grey color because it's dead and held in place by a metal post. I hate smiling around people, I always feel like they're looking at my teeth. 38: My childhood career choiceIt changed a lot. Mostly I wanted to be Ping (Mulan when she was in disguise) and spend my life saving entire countries. That changed a lot throughout the years and now I just hope I can live long enough to figure out what career I truly want. 39: My favorite ice cream flavorCookies and Cream.40: Who wish I could beThe perfect version of me that I made up when I was a kid. I used to really think that I could be him, but it never worked out. I'll never look that good and I could never have that confidence. I can barely muster the confidence to speak to my closest friends most of the time. 41: Where I want to be right nowCuddled close to someone who loves me.42: The last thing I ateUuuuuh... I had a french fry for lunch at work. 43: Sexiest person that comes to my mind immediatelyAdam Driver. 44: A random fact about anythingThe term "rule of thumb" comes from carpentry despite the fact that most people think it comes from an old rule (that never existed) that a man could beat his wife with a stick as long as it was no bigger than his thumb. The question said "anything," so there you go.This is really long, haha. Hopefully it posts correctly so that you can see it all, Anon. Have a nice day!