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galaxy-fleur · 15 hours ago

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⋆Midnight Rendezvous⋆

Pairing: Post-RE4R!Leon/gn!reader.

Summary: It's only natural to miss and long for the one you love, regardless of how accustomed you are to being apart from them. One lucky phone call can mean so much more when it's an unexpected surprise. For you and Leon alike. Or: Quick smutty drabble for @thatpyramidthing that turned into a one-shot, which then turned into a full-blown fic. Oops!

Word Count: 4k words.

Notes: Established relationship, phone sex, mutual masturbation, smut with feelings. Suspension of disbelief because people were not using their phones like this in 2000's lmao.

Credit: Divider by @/saradika-graphics

For you and Leon, spending extended periods of time apart was not an exception but rather a tried-and-true routine. That was just the nature of his job, and it couldn't be fought or challenged, only accepted and adapted to accordingly. The only thing you could do was cherish what time you did get to spend together.

This particular assignment of his was the same as any other. While you had no expectations for him to call, you can't help but beam once you see his name appear on your phone screen. Waisting no time at all, you quickly fall back into bed and answer the phone, feeling a little bit too excited for what is likely going to be a brief check-in given how busy he is normally when he's gone. Still, him calling at all is enough for your heart to race, and although it was late at night, you didn't mind at all.

For him, you'd jump up at 4 am if you had to.

"-Hey."

It's painfully obvious he has no idea what to say, probably just wanting to hear you speak more than anything else. The sound of his voice ringing in your ear makes you smile a little, even if his greeting was almost comically abrupt. Then again, you did not expect him to make a lovey-dovey speech for you or anything. That's just not the type of man Leon was, and you had no qualms with that. Moreover, he was probably very tired, anyway. You weren't about to complain over him not sounding joyful enough when he already made the effort to call you in the first place.

"Hi," you reply, shifting to lay flat on your back, your gaze staring up at the ceiling. Without his warm body here to cuddle up to, your bed felt a bit too large for your liking. However, expressing such a thought outloud was way too sappy-sounding, even for you. So, you kept the sentiment to yourself. "Did not expect you to call. Did you get a free moment?"

An ocean away, Leon slouches into his own hotel bed, cluttered with belongings haphazardly thrown abound with not much care for hospitality, his phone in his hand. What he does know, however is that he wanted, no, needed you to be over here, with him, right now. But, alas, that's a wish too ambitious to be granted. So he settles for the next best thing. And hearing your voice is definitely no reason to complain about.

He takes a deep breath, almost feeling as if his physical distance from you is the main cause of the exhaustion seeping into his bones. He missed your voice, touch, even your scent. It wasn't until he spoke to you again that he realized how much he had missed you.

"Yeah, I was surprised, too. The job's done, but they can't take me back to base yet because of the weather. So I'm just stuck here until further notice." He hesitates for a moment before adding, his voice taking on a more softer tone: "…Are you in the mood to keep me company?"

"-Is that even a question?" You laugh slightly, shaking your head, although he obviously couldn't see it from a phone call. Your reaction causes him to smile and chuckle to himself as well. God, he missed hearing you laugh. "How your mission went, by the way? Everything okay?"

Really, mission talk? His expectations were slightly higher than that.

"It was fine. Same bullshit. A bunch of bastards getting what they deserve." A part of him almost wants to act as though he's not truly alone in this dimly lit room, so he lets out another breath and turns over to lie on his stomach. It was hard to feel cozy when nothing about this place felt like home. Your voice helped with that, though. "I'm more interested in talking to you."

He hears you laugh under your breath again at his unenthusiastic answer. It wasn't necessary for him to say it outloud for you to understand that he was not interested in discussing work. Not that you blame him.

"The feeling's mutual, trust me," you murmur, a small smile audible in your voice. "Not to rush things before they happen, but I've been planning on making that braised steak for you when you get back. You know, the one you liked on Thanksgiving."

The notion of some homemade food instantly makes him feel a little more excited. The mere thought causes his tired eyes to light up a bit and his mouth to water. Guess men really don't need much to be happy, huh? What can he say, few things bring as much joy as a homemade meal from the one you love. Especially when he compares it to quick tasteless meals he got by with on the job.

"Oh really now?" His voice now has a somewhat lighter lilt to it, his words gradually regaining some of their emotion. "-Because that sounds like you're trying to butter me up for something."

He teases, but the excitement in his voice is very much genuine. You laugh, this time a muffled giggle, and the sound promts a small, warm smile to make its way onto his lips as he closes his eyes and concentrates solely on your voice through the speaker. This was nice.

"Is it so odd that I want to treat you to something?"

"-No, it's not odd. It's sweet. I appreciate it. I really do," he corrects softly, quietly expressing his appreciation. For a man who has endured far too much hardship for his age, it was refreshing to have someone care for him in such a simple yet meaningful way. After a brief peaceful pause, he speaks again in a somewhat quieter voice, nervously drumming his fingers on the bedsheets: "...Hey, can I ask... can I be a bit selfish with you for a second?"

The way he fidgets and murmurs out his request is almost bashful; it's a part of him that, all things considered, feels a little strange even to him. But he can't help it. You make him anxious, but not in the stuffy, claustrophobic way he's accustomed to. This type of anxiousness feels good. Exciting. A welcome contrast to the blood-curdling anxiety that was his unspoken partner on the job.

"How so?" You inquire, curiosity evident in your voice. You were oceans away - literally - so it's not like there was much for you two to do except talk. A part of him was honestly just going to ask you to stay on the phone with him until he falls asleep. It's a kind of a dumb request, which makes him embarrassed, but he doesn't really want to back down from it anyhow.

Leon bites his lip, slightly perplexed on how to go about it without just asking you upfront. He wasn't good at this whole 'subtlety' thing.

"I, uh… I just wanted to ask you to talk to me a little more. For a while, I mean." He pauses, lets out another sigh, and then shifts in his bed into a more comfortable position. To hell with this, he might as well just spill the beans to you now. "My mind's just filled with… crap. I’m tired. The 'I could sleep for a week straight' type of tired. But I know I’ll just end up tossing and turning for hours instead. I just... your voice would help."

You chuckle at that, the sound uplifting, as at least you're not bewildered by his request. He knows you'd gladly do a lot more than just talk for him if you were actually here. Which makes the whole separation even more difficult to deal with. He shifts onto his back, his gaze now fixed on the ceiling as he lays his head back against the pillow with a soft sigh.

"Well... I wish I could have you laying on top of me so I could play with your hair, but... I guess us just talking on the phone will have to do for now."

He feels a small, enjoyable shiver from the mental picture you conjured up for him. The sense of contentment he's always felt when you did that is something he knows by heart now. His brain always seemed to just shut itself down, nothing for him to focus on except for the sensation of your soothing touch in his hair. God knows he'd kill to have that right now.

"Yeah. You really know what to do to make me feel all better… I hate being apart like this." He shifts again, feeling a little restless due to your words and his own thoughts making him long for you ever more. He hesitates for a moment, his heart racing as he imagines your touch. If he tries hard enough, he swears he can nearly feel the ghost of your fingertips combing through his hair. "Keep going. Tell me something else."

His voice comes out a bit muffled, and he is inadvertently tightening his grip on the phone a little, almost as if it'll bring him closer to you, somehow.

"Like what?" You ask without hesitation. Well, it's better than you playing a guessing game with him, at least. You were notoriously horrible at those, anyways.

Leon takes a deep breath while he clumsily mimics your touch by idly running his fingers through his hair. His hands are not comparable to yours at all. They're rougher and completely different in size. He drops his hand back onto the sheets with a small, frustrated huff.

"Anything. Just... keep talking. Your voice, it’s…" He clears his throat and considers the precise words he should use here. He's sure on where he is going with this, either. He simply knew that he needed to hear you, and that this need was gradually developing into a full-on craving that was desperate to be satisfied. "I want to hear more of it. And... what you’d do to me if you were here."

That's subtle enough, he thinks. He's fine with you being the one to decide on the way to interpret him. He just wanted to listen to you.

But, admittedly, his brain had other ideas.

As Leon closes his eyes, his mind is racing with countless ideas, none of which are as innocent as a simple cuddle or a hand stroking through his hair. He imagines your weight settled on top of him, steadying him, your legs wrapped around his waist, your hands holding onto his shoulders as your bodies mold and move together, skin to skin, with nothing but your presence there to fill his head with. Your sweet voice whispering all the things he wants to hear, your warm breath waffling over his ear.

All the ways in which you hold him, touch him, want him.

Your voice, which sounds nearly muffled through the pleasant fog buzzing in his head, jolts him out of his fantasy.

"Oh. ...Ohhh," you draw out, the realization clear in your voice. He almost snorts in endearment. Well, at least you caught on. His heart flutters in his chest with wordless excitement as the thought causes heat to rush to his face. Nearly subconsciously, he reaches for the other side of the bed with his free hand, almost as if you would be there. Which, of course, you're not. Much to his disappointment. "We're not... talking about cuddles here, are we?"

The tone of your voice changes, and Leon's breath catches a little. He can imagine how flushed your cheeks probably look, how your heart is beating a little faster at the realization. At this point, he was too worked up to restrain himself. Besides, the cat's out of the bag now. Not much point in walking back on his own words. Biting his lip, he lets his fingers slowly slide down his abdomen as he contemplates your words. Would you be up to what he has in mind? He hopes you would.

"No. No we’re not." He reaches for his belt and slowly starts to unfasten it. The button on his jeans is next. Then the zipper. The release of some tension causes him to inhale sharply, feeling the cool air against his skin, a small shiver running up his spine. He closes his eyes. "Keep. Talking."

His tone is direct, curt, rough. It's the same one often uses on the job, perfect for giving out clear orders in the heat of the moment, but using it under these circumstances definitely hits a little different. Especially for you. He can hear your breath quicken just a tiny bit, wordlessly reassuring him that you are, indeed, just as into this as he is. He smiles a little at the thought, feeling both relieved and little amused. He can imagine you lying there, your mind running hundred miles an hour to come up with a response while holding the phone up to your ear. He wonders if your other hand is wandering south now, too.

"Well I'd, uhm..." He lets you take your time and get your bearings, not hurrying you further. Hell, he's perfectly fine with you pulling out of this if it just wasn't clicking for you. He made his intentions clear. Now it was up to you to make the call, whatever it was. On any other day, he'd be the one getting all awkward over talking of these things outloud, but today, his mind is focused solely on your voice coming through the speaker. He hears you sigh, a sound steadying, and he feels himself smile. There you go. "I'd... want to kiss you. Long. Until we're both out of breath. And you get that dazed look in your eyes. You look so beautiful when you get like that. And just from me kissing you, too."

Leon listens to every word with keen interest, his eyebrows raising as you create a vivid picture in his mind for him to mull over. It was relatively tame, but it was a good starting point. Not to mention genuine. He can almost sense the warm touch of your lips against his, the taste of you on his tongue. You calling him beautiful was a nice cherry on top, making his breathing quicken in turn.

With his movements jerkier and clumsier than usual due to the excitement that was now steadily flowing through his veins, he quickly pulls his shirt over his head. He doesn't really look where it lands, just throwing it somewhere to the side with zero regard for decency. Not like it matters.

With his eyes still closed, he moves his hand slowly down his bare chest, grazing each ridge of his abs with his fingertips before lowering it further. He tries to mimic the manner in which you would touch him from memory. It's not a flawless attempt, bit it's good enough in his books. He can't help but groan softly, finding himself wanting to press into his own touch, if only to feel even the fraction of how your affection would feel like upon his battered body.

"And then?" He prompts, his voice lower now, charged with underlying tension hanging in the air. He knows full well that you can probably sense the hunger and anticipation he's not trying very hard to conceal. He wishes he could actually see you right now. But, alas, this will have to do.

"-What are you doing right now?" Your voice breaks him out of his momentary fantasy, his heart picking up speed in his chest as he focuses on you: every little change in your breathing, the dip in your tone, the words you choose to say to him. He hears you swallow before continuing: "What would you have me do if I was there? I could... y'know, go from there."

His heart swells with affection as he laughs a little. You weren't very slick. Then again, you never were. He liked you for that. It was painstakingly clear that you were just eager to hear exactly what he was up to. He was happy you were enjoying yourself.

He moves again, lying on his side, and switching the phone to loudspeaker while resting it on the cushion next to him before sitting back up to get comfortable. His own breath comes out shakily now, charged with rising arousal. Slowly, his other, free hand moves up his stomach, stopping at his chest. He huffs softly as he imagines your touch.

"I’d… I’d have you sit here." He moves his hand up to one of his pectorals and squeezes slightly as he pictures your fingers squeezing at his flesh instead. The action, along with his imagination, makes him bite his lip again, sucking in a breath through his nose. "Right in my lap."

He can’t help letting out a quiet 'fuck...' as he imagines you on top of him, holding his face in your hands as you kiss him, long and deep. Oh, what he wouldn't give just to have you close and to feel your lips against his again. He misses you so much that it's a little humiliating, but his mind is too hazy to care. No, all he cares about is you touching his bare skin with your hands, stroking the rising flames of his desire with every cares. Lost in the fantasy of your hand taking the place of his own, his hand slides higher up and touches his chin, causing sparks to bloom on his skin as he tilts his head back. He'd be just as pliant with you here, if not even more so. Just to feel wanted by you.

His mind is buzzing from the faint sounds of your own breathing coming through the speaker, which he can hear stuttering and quickening through the delightful fog filling his head. He doesn't push you into talking if you dont want to. However, he is well aware that you are not merely listening to him while innocently laying in your bed. He knows you well enough now to catch onto your state of arousal through the change in your breathing alone. He likes the thought of you doing the same as him right now. He hears some muffled shuffling on the other end of the line, something akin to bed covers being tousled around before you reply to him.

"On your lap," you repeat, almost as if testing out the idea in your head. Your tone is tight, and he can hear you take a single steadying breath before continuing: "I'd like that."

"Good," he finds himself responding, a faint smile on his lips. It's a small encouragement, just to let you know he's very much enjoying himself. To his surprise, you continue without any further promting from him.

"-I'd love to treat you after you get back. Just have you lay back and feel good while I take care of everything. Relax. You deserve it."

Your comments cause Leon's breath to catch abruptly, and he lets out a small, trembling gasp. He was not ready to hear something like that front you right now. In the best way possible. He is able to practically sense your presence and the grounding weight of your body upon him. As he runs his hand back down his chest and over his abs, they begin to tremble slightly.

"Fuck…" He groans lowly again, his brows drawing together in concentration as he pictures you in his lap. Your warmth against his hardening length, the way your hips would push against his.

His other hand mindlessly slides down as he palms himself through his jeans, his breath stuttering at much-needed stimulation. His hips jolt to press up firmly into his touch, imagining it's your hand instead of his own. He visualizes your fingers moving slowly down his chest. You kissing him all over as you usually do, leaving a trail of warm kisses down his hips and abdomen. He shivers and curses under his breath as the heat coiling in his gut only gets stronger.

"Leon?" It takes all of his inner strength not to whimper in response to your voice, which sounds both uncertain and needy. God, you just had to say his name of all things, huh?

"Keep going. Tell me more," he pants out softly, his voice rough with need. "Would you touch me?"

You laugh at that, and the sound makes him chuckle in response, his heart strangely light in his chest despite the intimate mood. You both sound so breathless. He likes that.

"Is that even a question?" You repeat the same thing you told him just minutes prior, and he can't help but snort. You got him there, he'll give you that. Though, your lighthearted playfulness soon shifts back into hushed arousal. "...Everywhere. Would love to touch you all over."

He swallows.

"Oh yeah? Seems like we both have the same idea."

You pause for a long time, and just as he's about to encourage you to speak your mind or reassure you, you beat him to it. And, boy, do you catch him off-guard.

"Just... Imagining riding you slowly. Make us both really feel all of it, every touch. I want to kiss at your neck, too... taste your skin, feel you shiver. And have my hands roaming all over you, too. Want to treat you right. Feel you."

...Oh, damn.

Leon moans at your words as he squeezes his length through his jeans a little. You just set his mind into overdrive. It's everything he wants and more. Your hands on his skin, your lips trailing warm, open-mouthed kisses down his neck, making him forget anything and everything but you and your touch. The way your hips would move against his, slowly and sensually, drawing out the pleasure until it becomes unbearable. At this point, his dick is practically aching to be touched, throbbing in the confines of his jeans.

"Jesus," he breathes out, a small, breathless chuckle following suit. Needless to say, you have him wrapped around your finger, even miles upon miles apart. He wouldn't have it any other way. "Keep talking like that and I'll lose it."

"Maybe I want to hear you lose it," you suggest to him softly, almost like you were testing the waters with what you could say to him. The idea makes him want to laugh. You didn't need to worry about a single thing with impressing him.

He quickly reaches for the waistband of his jeans and tugs them down just enough to free himself from the stiffling fabric. He exhales a shuddering breath as cool air hits his heated skin, a sense of relief accompanying the movement. He wastes no time wrapping his fingers over his cock, slowly stroking himself, still imagining your hand in its place instead of his own. Meanwhile, his other hand slides back up his chest, following the trajectory your touch would follow according to his memory. As he imagines you playfully nibbling at the side of his neck and whispering more sickeningly sweet dirty things into his ear, he shivers and gently rolls his thumb over his nipple.

"...Wish you were here," he exhales. He's losing himself in a fantasy that you two have created thus far, and it's getting easier and easier for him to just speak without hesitation or embarrassment. "Want your hands on me. Hips, stomach, chest, cock… everywhere."

In response, he hears you whine, and his mind generously conjures up a variety of possibilities for what you may be doing at the moment, each one more provocative than the last. What he wouldn't give to touch you right now, God. To be the reason behind those lovely sounds you are making.

"-So touch yourself," you instruct, your words barely above a whisper, your breaths coming out in small, shaky puffs of air, each one shooting straight to his groin. "Touch yourself like I would touch you right now. God, I would love to feel you under my hands..."

Leon shudders at your words, his cock throbbing in his hand as he instinctively bucks up, his breath faltering. A low groan leaves his lips, in equal measure in response to you as well as his touch. This time, he imagines you watching him, your own hand on yourself as well. Your lips parted and your cheeks flushed with arousal as you look at him dutifully.

"Fuck… I am,” he pants out, his hand moving a tad faster over his length. He senses himself leaking, the tip of his cock slick with precum. He spreads it around with his thumb, squeezes at the base, and then draws his hand back up. He bites his lip to stop another moan from slipping out, though, at this point it seems to be a futile effort. He's surprised he hasn't tasted blood yet. "Your hands would feel so good right now… so much better than mine…"

"Leon..." He hears you moaning out his name, and he swears that he almost came right then and there from the sound of it alone.

His free hand slides back up to his chest, gently squeezing at one of his nipples with the tips of his fingers. He pulls at it lightly, his brain picturing your teeth instead of his fingers. His back arches up towards the touch, a low groan leaving his lips.

"Tell me… where would you touch me?" He asks, his voice strained. "Be direct."

Your breath catches, as though you're taken aback by his question. But he was greedy, and he wanted more. He could feel his insides twisting and turning in the pit of his stomach, and not in a bad way. His spiraling brain almost couldn't handle the mental image of you touching yourself while on the phone with him, even though he was doing that exact same thing.

"Your chest," you murmur breathlessly, almost like the words were stealing your breath away as you shared them with him. And yet, you went on: "I want to touch your chest. Caress you all over... Squeeze at you, play with your nipples while I kiss the side of your neck and listen to you gasp and whine. Just like you like it."

Leon instantly visualizes your touch on him and lets out a deep wanton moan.

"Yes," he exhales. "Like that. Miss you..."

"-Miss you, too... so much." His head reels as you echo those words back to him in that breathy, almost whiny tone, and his hips automatically buck up into his hand in an attempt to feel what he perceives to be your touch.

He groans softly, running his hand over his chest, more to tease than to touch. Just as you said, he circles his nipple again and rolls the hardened bud under his thumb. Squeezing it just the way you would for him if you were here. Even if it's a poor substitute for the real thing. "Your mouth, too. Want it all."

Using his precum as lube, he begins to stroke himself quicker, rougher. He moves his hand up and down his shaft, squeezing a bit at the tip before returning back to the base in a familiar technique. Seeking the increasing pleasure coiling in his gut, he thrusts his hips up into his hand.

And as he hears every tiny sound of pleasure coming from your end, his desire for more only intensifies. You seem to be enjoying yourself just as much, stuttered breaths and muffled whines flowing through the receiver. He is saddened by the fact that he cannot see you in person at this moment in all your glory. But, this will have to do.

You exhale.

"Yeah," you encourage softly, your own voice breathy and hushed with arousal. "I'm right there with you."

"-Wish you were," he gasps out, his eyes shut tight as he wills himself to somehow bring this fleeting fantasy to life, however briefly. "Would feel so much better with you here."

"I am. Just close your eyes and focus on my voice. My hands stroking you, my mouth on your skin... Whatever you want. I'll give it to you. You deserve it."

Leon's already thin breaths come out in unsteady gasps as a result of your sweet encouragements. Your breathy and needy voice is somehow making him even more aroused than he already is, if that was even possible. His free hand descends to roam over his abdomen, primarily to visualize your hands mindlessly stroking his flesh. It's maddening.

"Fuck, you are too good at this…" He pants out, his hips thrusting up into his hand. Instead of continuing to trace over his lower abdomen, his hand reaches up to comb through his hair, just like you would, the delightful sensation sending jolts of pleasure directly to his cock. "Too good to me. Want to touch you, too. Whatever you want."

In order to give himself greater room to move around without experiencing any discomfort, he spreads his legs somewhat wider. He inadvertently starts to imagine you in a position between them, your head bobbing up and down as you take him in. His cock throbs at the mere thought, another droplet of precum dripping from its tip. Oh, he's lost it completely.

He listens to you groan quietly, and the realization that his words have the same impact on you as yours do on him makes him feel proud. The sound of your pleasure creates a fuzzy sensation in his head, blocking out all thoughts but you, you, you. His mind creates a fairly realistic image of what you are doing at the moment, even while he is itching to actually see you. And, God, was that picture irresistible.

"I want that too... Want to make you feel good."

Leon slightly squeezes the base of his cock at your whispered wants, another shudder rippling through him. He is acutely aware that he is getting close now, his balls drawing up tight and a growing coil of tension simmering deep in his gut.

"-Shit, I'm so fucking close," he pants heavily, his hips thrusting up into his hand steadily. He imagines you straddling him, riding him with all you have until you are both a gasping, trembling mess. Your hands wrapped snuggly over his neck and your lovely eyes on him the whole way through. The moan that comes out of him at the thought is borderline obscene as his head falls back, hot pleasure coiling in his gut until it's borderline unbearable. He does have enough sense in him left to warn you, though, however clumsy. Or maybe ask for permission. He isn't sure, and he is far too dazed to figure it out. "Jesus, fuck, going to cum-"

"That's alright, let go, I want to hear you," you coo at him softly through shaky puffs of air, a hint of urgency laced in your words. You were obviously getting impatient yourself while listening to him enjoying himself, whether that meant you were getting close or not. Either way, it was hot. "Cum for me, Leon. Please."

He didn't need to be told twice.

It only takes him a couple more rough strokes before he comes to a halt and shudders, his cock spurting ropes of his release into his hand and stomach, a broken gasp of your name leaving his lips in a desperate mantra before the pleasure slowly subsides. He's left panting, catching his breath from the pleasurable high of his orgasm as he plops back down on the bed, letting his body relax and gather its bearings.

"Jesus Christ, that was... wow..." He exhales, his voice ragged. As his mind gradually clears from the haze of pleasure that clouded his senses moments prior, he laughs softly, his voice full of tiredness and a hint of sheepishness. He turns his head to the phone, almost like he'd see you there. "You okay? Did you...?"

...He didn't even check if you came or not. Now he kind of feels like an ass.

"Y-Yeah. Just now." Because of your stuttering breaths, your words are a little unsteady. Whether you came with him or moments after, he doesn't really care. He's just glad you were left satisfied, too. Somewhat. Really, this was still more about him than you. He should fix that next time you do this.

He lets out a soft and warm chuckle at the thought. Next time. He was already thinking of next time, huh? Either way, that familiar subtle tremor in your voice makes him smile to himself, wishing he could reach out and stroke your cheek with the back of his hand right now.

"Good. I'm... I'm glad. Got worried there for a sec." He reaches over and grabs a tissue off his nightstand to quickly clean himself up. After tossing the tissue away, he leans back against the bed, feeling completely relaxed. "That was... something. Definitely needed that. Thank you."

A pleasant sense of calm washes over him as he sighs, closing his eyes. The subtle ache in his muscles and post-organasmic bliss is a welcome contrast to the constant tension he was dealing with lately.

"Happy to hear that." While he's unable to see you, he can still hear the smile in your voice, which makes him smile in turn. You take a deep, steadying breath, some rustling following suit as you probably clean yourself up and get comfortable. He didn't prod you. It didn't feel awkward at all when you were on the line with him. Despite his wish for you to actually be here.

"...I can't wait to see you again. To actually hold you, kiss you, make up for lost time," he promises, his voice unusually soft and intimate. "Tell you what, once I get back, we'll spend a whole weekend in bed, just the two of us. No phones, no work, no distractions. Just us."

His wistful smile is accompanied by the image of you in his bed, warm and cozy as you nuzzle up to him. God knows he didn't need anything more to be happy.

"That sounds lovely. I might just hold you to that," you giggle, those same familiar playful notes making their appearance again as you both come down from your highs.

"Hey... Do you mind staying with me on the line tonight? I don't... really want to hang up," he confesses, a bit embarrassed, but unwilling to just part with you so quickly. He can't help but feel a bit clingy.

"Funny. I was about to ask you the same thing."

He laughs at that, shaking his head.

"God, I love you."

"I love you more."

#resident evil #leon kennedy #leon scott kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #feedback is appreciated mostly because smut is actually not a strong suit of mine #but hey can't get good without practice!#i hope dialogue is believable - now that was the trickiest part alright!#leon's bad at dirty talk in my head but hey #if you love someone dome exceptions can be made #tumblr you better not fucking banish me into tag prison again

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feathery-dreamer · 2 days ago

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I understand the joke, but hear me out (as someone who's in no way an expert in history); also there's some personal stuff in the last part of this rant.

The bloodline thing was maybe valid for royal and noble families, for whom having no heir meant the lands would go to someone they hated and/or the family name would actually end.

But since infant mortality has been reduced, family names have branched out more and more. There are maybe thousands and thousands of people with the same family name in a single, average-sized country. Even here in France, we've had instances of hearing or reading our (Turkish) surname in other people, even the same full name once.

Our genetic line? all of my cousins are in straight marriages, no risk of extinction there. Our family name? see above, they're everywhere including foreign countries. I absolutely have 0 reason to worry about either of those things.

Nowadays, the reason you hear often is your parents "want grandchildren" and; well frankly, my marital choice is none of their business nor concern.

We no longer live in Medieval times when it was normal to marry your kid off to whomever you picked, or try to convince a more powerful person (lord, count, prince...) to marry your child, for socioeconomic improvement. We live in a time and place where your child chooses if, when, whom, why they marry - which includes socioeconomic betterment, but for the person in question and not for their parents.

If you, my parent or grandparent, only "love" me in hopes that I would one day "repay the debt" by giving you (great-)grandchildren? Then I'm sorry, but you do NOT love me at all. You love a presumed image of me that you have, your own planned future with grandchildren. That is NOT love, it's using your offspring as a tool for your own personal agenda.

It's as manipulative and awful as my mother when she claimed I could talk to her, but then kept cutting me off five words in. One time (just one) I pointed out she always interrupted me, and she instantly hit me with the "because you talk too slowly". What does this mean? "I will support you but won't provide the energy to adapt to your need, you must supply extra energy in the midst of your struggling to speak faster." Also, "it's not on me to make an effort to listen (as I said I would), it's on you to catch my attention and make me listen."

Conditional "support" doesn't count. Conditional "love" doesn't count. Conditional "care" or "attention" or "nurturing" doesn't count.

You, the parent, are the one who DECIDED to have a child - it's on YOU to adapt to whatever you end up with. The kid never signed up for this, they don't owe you jack shit for something you chose to do.

The older generation's fixation on forcing you to have kids is something they absolutely refuse to unlearn. You can give the calmest and most reasonable explanation for not having kids and the only thing they can think to say is, "But what of the heir to the lands?" "Who will inherit the throne?" "Please sire upon your barren death there will be a parochial schism that will soak our soils with brother-blood." They literally hate to see you happy with just a cat.

#my thoughts #parenting #kids #family #abuse #fallacies #history #names #rant #my life #hypocrisy #love #important

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h4nj1sunggg · 21 hours ago

Text

₁ . 𝐖𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 - ( h. jisung. )

pairing: rockstar!Han Jisung x groupie fem!reader.

genre: smut, angst, rockstar x groupie to lovers

words: 5.7k summary: jisung is an idol, you are his groupie.

ᯓᡣ𐭩　 ( masterlist ) . playlist. part two.

warnings: a lot of make out, oral (both receiving), unprotected sex (don't be silly), dirty talks, breeding.

You're just a fan.

You’d always been passionate about music—its ability to tell stories, to evoke emotions you didn’t even realize you had. But when you first heard Han Jisung’s voice, it was like a switch flipped in your soul. His lyrics felt like they were written just for you, his melodies like they were designed to sit in your chest and echo for days.

It started with the music. Long before you ever thought about standing in a crowd or knowing his name, it was his voice that hooked you, a melodic thread weaving its way into the chaos of your life. His lyrics, so raw and unfiltered, felt like a window into his soul—and, in some strange way, yours too. Every word seemed crafted for the moments you couldn’t articulate yourself.

It wasn’t just the music, though. It was the way he performed—raw and unfiltered, like he was giving a piece of himself to the world every time he stepped on stage. You couldn’t help but be captivated.

The first song you heard wasn’t even one of the title tracks. It was an obscure B-side, tucked away on an album you stumbled upon by accident. But it hit you like a tidal wave. The layers, the emotions, the honesty—it was unlike anything you’d heard before. You remember sitting in your room with headphones on, the world around you fading as you let his music fill every corner of your mind. It wasn’t just a song; it was a lifeline. “I swear, he writes from a place most people are too afraid to touch,” you once explained to a friend, clutching your headphones like a lifeline. “It’s like he’s pouring out all the messy, beautiful parts of being human.”

Your admiration for him wasn’t the casual kind. It was the kind that had you at every concert within a hundred-mile radius, screaming his lyrics at the top of your lungs. The kind that had you pouring over interviews and album liner notes, learning about his creative process and the stories behind his songs.

Then came the rest. The way his voice could switch from a soft, whispery croon to a fiery, rapid-fire rap. The way he seemed to pour every ounce of himself into his work, leaving nothing behind. His music was like a diary you had no right to read, yet it felt like he’d written it for someone like you—someone who needed it. It wasn’t just his voice or the lyrics. It was the way his compositions felt alive. The subtle harmonies, the little ad-libs that only revealed themselves on the tenth or twentieth listen, the way every beat seemed to have its own heartbeat. His songs weren’t just music; they were experiences, stories you wanted to live in forever.

There was something deeply human about his art.

He wasn’t afraid to explore the messy, complicated parts of life—the heartbreak, the anxiety, the longing for something more. He turned those emotions into something beautiful, something you could hold onto when your own thoughts felt too heavy to carry.

His music became your companion. On good days, it was the soundtrack to your joy. On bad days, it was the only thing that could pull you out of the darkness. It felt like he was reaching through the speakers, reminding you that it was okay to feel, to break, to rebuild.

It wasn’t just fandom—it was gratitude. For the songs that kept you company when you felt alone. For the words that gave you clarity when everything else was a blur. For the reminder that there was beauty in vulnerability, and strength in sharing it.

And so, you became a groupie—it was about chasing the feeling his music gave you. That indescribable, unshakeable sense of belonging.

Everyoe knows he has groupies, all over the cities, all over the countries. How could you even be mad at that? He is breathtaking, shockingly beautiful and sexy, a 25 years old guy that doesn’t stop to get settle with anyone.

The night was alive with anticipation, the air buzzing as you made your way through the crowd outside the concert venue. The throbbing bass and distant cheers filtered through the walls, and with each step you took closer, your heart raced a little faster. You wore your favorite band t-shirt, the one that felt like armor, emblazoned with the words of the very song that had saved you—Han Jisung’s words. When you finally entered, the sea of fans erupted around you, everyone a whirlwind of excitement and energy. You found a spot near the front, right where you could see him emerge any moment now.

The lights dimmed, and the crowd roared in unison. The atmosphere was electric, a palpable wave of passion that made your skin tingle. As the first chords of music filled the room, time seemed to slow down. Then, like a bolt of lightning, he appeared on stage—Han Jisung in all his glory. Your breath hitched in your throat as his silhouette became clearer against the vibrant lights.

He was just as you had imagined: effortlessly charismatic, with a spark in his eyes that drew you in like a moth to a flame. The first song struck like a melody of memories, filling your chest with a warmth you couldn’t quite articulate. Every lyric spilled from his lips like a confession, and you sang along, the words wrapping around you like a familiar blanket.

It felt as though he was speaking directly to you, his gaze connecting with every listener in the crowd, weaving an intricate tapestry of shared experience. You couldn’t help but get lost in the moment, your worries forgotten as you surrendered to the music. But the magic of the night didn’t stop there. Just as the chorus of his third song echoed through the hall, Han paused. “This next one,” he said, his voice soft yet commanding, “is for anyone who’s ever felt like they didn’t belong.”

The room went silent, as if the world outside had paused to listen. It was like he was reaching through the ether, touching the hearts of his fans, reminding them they weren’t alone.

That’s when it happened—something unexpected. As he sang, you felt his eyes drift over the crowd and land on you.

For a fleeting moment, the chaos faded away, and it was just you and him in that moment.

Your heart raced wildly, and you could swear your pulse synced to the rhythm of the song. It was surreal, a brief connection that seemed to transcend the space between performers and fans. Just as quickly as it began, he moved on, and the moment ignited a fire deep within you.

This wasn’t just admiration; it was a life-altering sense of purpose. After the concert, as the lights dimmed and the last notes faded, you stood there in disbelief.

The world reformed around you, but in your heart, something had changed. Walking out of the venue, your mind raced with excitement. That fleeting connection felt too powerful to ignore. In that moment of passion, you realized that you were so much more than just a fan; you were a beacon of the change his music inspired in you. You had stories to tell, lyrics to write, and a world to explore, echoing the very sentiments that had pulled you in. Months later, you decided to attend another concert, this time less as a devoted fan and more as an artist in your own right. You took your notebook with you, filled with your own lyrics and drawings inspired by Han’s impact on your life. But this time, as you stood in the crowd again, you realized your heart wasn’t just searching for connection; it was ready to forge new paths and create beauty alongside those who inspired you.

Jisung was mid-performance, sweat glistening under the stage lights as he owned every second of the crowd’s adoration. You were front and center, screaming his name like your life depended on it. He caught your gaze for a fraction of a second—just enough to send your heart into overdrive.

The thrum of the bass reverberated through your chest as the crowd surged around you, but you couldn’t focus on anything but him. Jisung was electrifying on stage—his movements precise, effortless, and filled with a raw energy that made your heart race. The sweat on his skin caught the light with every jump and turn, and the way he commanded the stage had you completely entranced.

You screamed his name, hands stretched up toward the stage, desperate for any acknowledgment. "Jisung!" you shouted, the sound of your voice swallowed by the chaotic roar of the fans. But then, for a brief, fleeting moment, his eyes locked with yours. The world seemed to stop, the noise from the crowd fading into a muffled hum. His lips curved into a smirk—playful, confident, and undeniably aware of the effect he had on you.

Your heart skipped a beat, and it felt like the entire arena had disappeared, leaving only the two of you in that charged moment.

Jisung's gaze flickered over you, slowly, taking in every detail of you from head to toe before it lingered just a little too long. That was enough to send a jolt of heat rushing through your body, your pulse spiking in a way you couldn't ignore.

The beat of the song changed, and he moved effortlessly into his next set of choreographed steps, but his eyes never fully left you. A few seconds later, he leaned into the mic, his voice cutting through the loud cheers and claps. "I see you out there," he called out, his voice smooth and seductive. "Maybe after the show, you can come backstage and show me what else you've got."

The crowd went wild, but it was the way he said it—low, with that playful, teasing edge—that made your breath catch in your throat. Was he serious? Was this really happening?

Before you could even gather your thoughts, you found yourself nodding, heart pounding in anticipation. The idea of getting close to him—of being in his presence, no longer just a face in the crowd—was enough to send a rush of excitement and nervousness flooding through your veins.

As the performance came to a close and the crowd erupted into applause, you couldn't tear your gaze away from Jisung. He smiled and waved to the audience, but his eyes found you again, locking on you as though you were the only one in the room.

A beat passed before he tossed the mic to one of the staff members and gestured to the side. "Backstage, yeah?" he mouthed with a wink.

Your breath hitched as you nodded once again, your pulse racing. The excitement was almost too much to contain as you pushed through the crowd, making your way toward the side of the venue, where the backstage doors loomed.

The security guards nodded at you, clearly recognizing you from the earlier moments. The adrenaline from the performance still buzzed in the air, and soon enough, you found yourself standing just behind the curtain, waiting for the moment that felt like a dream.

The door opened, and there he was—Jisung, sweat still glistening on his skin, his eyes burning with that same playful intensity from earlier. His grin was a little wider now, a little more knowing. He leaned against the doorframe, his posture relaxed but confident.

“You came,” he said, his voice hushed but loaded with expectation.

“I said I would,” you responded, stepping toward him, your legs trembling but your resolve firm.

Jisung pushed off from the door, closing the space between you, his eyes never leaving yours. “Good. You’re just as bold as I thought,” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear. The room felt impossibly small as you both stood there, the space between you charged with unspoken promises.

He reached up, his hand brushing the side of your face, his fingers cool against your skin after the heat of the stage. “I like that.”

Before you could respond, he leaned in, closing the final gap between you with a kiss that was everything you had imagined and more. Electric, heated, and completely intoxicating. You melted into it, the reality of the moment settling around you like a dream that was slowly becoming your new truth.

"what's your name beautiful?"

"y/n", his grin deepened. “good, you’re with me tonight.”

Shivers running down your back as you’re still over the edge from the kiss that he just stealed from you, so easily, like the most normal thing in the world.

The implications behind those words swirled around in your mind as anticipation danced in your veins. Every part of you wanted to say yes—to embrace whatever adventure awaited beyond this stolen moment.

But something deeper stirred within—a fear mingled with longing that threatened to choke back your excitement.

“Where are we going?” you asked softly, searching his eyes for answers. His smile widened further as he took your hand gently in his own—his touch grounding yet electrifying at once.

“my room,” he replied with an infectious enthusiasm that made you feel alive. “Tonight is ours.”

He led you out of the cramped backstage area into the vibrant chaos of post-concert euphoria—the energy buzzing around as fans celebrated what they’d just witnessed was intoxicating in its own right.

As laughter echoed around you both and Jisung’s fingers intertwined with yours securely, it became clear: this night would be one for the books—he’s holding you like he wants you with all his desire.

Each step felt like a leap into the unknown, every heartbeat resonating with the thrill of what lay ahead.

Jisung's fingers intertwined with yours securely, and the way he held you was possessive and tender all at once, as if he wanted to shield you from the world outside. “Can you believe we made it through that?” he laughed, his eyes sparkling with the afterglow of adrenaline and joy.

You nodded, unable to form words, too caught up in the moment. The night had been electric, a whirlwind of lights and sound, and now it was culminating in this moment, just the two of you. As you passed by excited fans, you felt a surge of confidence, the connection between you and Jisung felt undeniable.

Finally, they reached the door to his room, a private sanctuary away from the chaos. Jisung opened it with a flourish, and the moment you stepped inside, the noise faded into a soft hum. The room was dimly lit, adorned with posters of his favorite bands and a few mementos from past concerts. It felt like a glimpse into the soul of the man you had come to admire.

“Welcome to my world,” he said, closing the door behind you, the sound echoing in the quiet space. As he turned to face you, the playful glint in his eyes shifted to something deeper, more sincere. “I’m glad you’re here.”

With that, he stepped closer, the distance between you evaporating.

Your heart raced as he leaned in, his breath mingling with yours, both of you caught in a moment that felt suspended in time. The world outside faded away, and all that mattered was the space between you—a tension so palpable it almost crackled.

“Are you ready?” he whispered, his voice low and inviting.

You nodded, your pulse quickening as he closed the final distance and captured your lips with his. The kiss was sweet, full of promise and passion, igniting every nerve in your body. It was everything you had dreamed of and more, a collision of desire and emotion that swept you off your feet.

His mouth moved against yours with a fervor that took your breath away, each caress sending waves of heat coursing through you. It was sweet, but it was also wild and consuming, a fierce declaration of everything you had kept bottled up. You melted against him, surrendering to the tide of emotions that crashed over you, drowning out all thought except for the intoxicating taste of him.

His hands found their way to your waist, pulling you flush against him, as if he couldn’t get close enough. You felt the strength of his body, the way he held you as though you were his lifeline. The kiss deepened, and you could feel the promise of something more—an uncharted territory filled with passion and urgency.

You lost yourself in the moment, tangled in the heat and desire that enveloped you both. Every touch was electric, every sigh a plea for more. It was a collision of souls, a symphony of need and longing that resonated deep within your core.

As Jisung's fingers brushed against your skin, a spark ignited, sending shivers cascading down your spine. His touch was both gentle and insistent, a perfect blend of tenderness and urgency that made your heart race even faster. You could feel the weight of his passion, each caress igniting flames of desire that threatened to consume you whole.

He leaned in closer, his lips trailing along your jaw, whispering sweet nothings that made your breath hitch.

"I want you," he murmured, the raw need in his voice sending a thrill coursing through you. Those simple words were enough to send your mind spinning, a confirmation of everything you had ever dreamed about.

You craved more—more of his warmth, more of his touch, more of the connection that sparked between you like wildfire. Jisung's hands roamed your body, exploring every curve, igniting a fever that left you breathless. His fingers tangled in your hair, tilting your head back to give him better access to your lips, and you melted into him, surrendering to the overwhelming need that pulsed between you.

“Please,” you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper, as you pressed your body against his, desperate for the contact. The world around you faded into a blur, and all that existed was the heat of his body against yours, the intoxicating scent of him, and the electric charge in the air.

With every kiss, every touch, he pushed you closer to the edge, each moment stretching out as if time itself had surrendered to the intensity of your connection. You could feel the weight of his desire, palpable and raw, and it fueled your own, making you ache for him in ways you never thought possible.

“Let me show you how much I can be good for you,” Jisung breathed against your lips, his voice thick with longing.

Before you could reply, he pushed you back gently onto the bed. The cool sheets contrasted with the heat radiating from your body. Jisung climbed on top of you, his weight pinning you down comfortably as he leaned in, capturing your lips in a feverish kiss. The taste of him was intoxicating, and you melted into him, returning the kiss with equal fervor.

He pulled away just enough to look into your eyes, a predatory glint shining in his gaze. “hm, I got a pretty girl in my hands tonight didn’t I?” his chocky smile makes your heaad spin.

His lips traveled down your jawline, leaving a trail of fire as they descended toward your neck. He nipped at the sensitive skin, eliciting a soft gasp from your lips. “You make the prettiest sounds,” he teased, licking a stripe from your collarbone up to your ear.

Your back arched in response, urging him to continue. His hand found the hem of your shirt, fingers teasingly brushing against your skin before he lifted the fabric, exposing your midriff. The cool air hit you, heightening your senses as he peppered kisses along your stomach, savoring every inch of you.

“Jisung…” you breathed, your voice thick with desire.

With a mischievous glint in his eyes, he pulled the shirt over your head, tossing it aside. He paused, taking a moment to admire you, his gaze heated and full of hunger.

“So beautiful,” he whispered before leaning down to press soft kisses between your breasts – in that moment, you can see affection in his sensual actions, almost seems like he takes his good time with you.

Each kiss sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, and you could feel your body responding to his every touch. His hands roamed, fingers brushing against your sides, teasing the edge of your bra before he slowly unclasped it. The garment fell away, and he wasted no time, his mouth moving to your sensitive nipples, swirling and sucking until you were a moaning mess beneath him.

“Jisung, please…” you begged, your body craving more of him, more of this electrifying connection.

He looked up at you, his eyes dark with desire. “I want you to feel everything,” he said, moving back up to capture your lips again. His hands worked on the button of your jeans, and with a swift tug, they were gone, leaving you in nothing but your panties, exposed and longing.

“Shh, just let me take care of you,” he murmured, his voice low and sultry, sending shivers down your spine. His fingers slid from your waist, trailing down your thighs, teasingly slow as they reached the waistband of your panties. He paused, looking into your eyes for permission, and you nodded, unable to form words.

With a smirk, he pulled your panties aside, exposing you to his gaze. “hot,” he whispered, his breath hot against your skin. His fingers danced over your folds, exploring, teasing, coaxing soft moans from your lips.

“Tell me what you want,” he commanded, his voice dripping with authority as he continued his ministrations, his fingers expertly circling your clit.

“I… I want you,” you gasped, the heat pooling in your core almost overwhelming.

“Good girl,” he said, his smile devilish as he lowered himself to the floor. You gasped as he pressed kisses along your thighs, his mouth tantalizingly close to where you needed him most. “Let me taste you.”

His words sent a wave of anticipation crashing over you, and all you could do was nod, gripping onto the edge of his bed as he finally dove in. His tongue flicked against you, drawing out a whimper as he explored your depths “Stay still,” he chuckled darkly, holding your hips down as he increased the intensity. “I want to hear you.”

With a wicked grin, he yanked your soaked panties completely off, tossing them aside. "Fuck, you're dripping," he growled, his hot breath fanning over your glistening pussy. His fingers delved between your folds, spreading your labia to fully expose your aching cunt. "Look at this pretty little clit, all swollen and begging for attention."

Jisung’s tongue dance against your clit, flicking and sucking with temptation, he worked you closer to the edge, he looked up, his eyes glinting with mischief and desire. “You taste so sweet. Don't hold back. I want to know how good I make you feel.”

Jisung's expert digits danced over your sensitive flesh, circling your throbbing nub before plunging two fingers deep inside your weeping hole. You cried out as he curled them, finding that perfect spot that made your toes curl. He pumped his fingers in and out of your clenching pussy.

With each flick of his tongue, the heat inside you spiraled, and you felt yourself teetering on the precipice of release. “Jisung… I’m so close,” you gasped, breathless.

“Just a little more, babe. Give yourself to me,” he urged, his mouth never stopping its delicious assault.

"I... I want your cock!" you moaned shamelessly, overcome by the burning need in your core.

"That's my good little slut," he purred, withdrawing his fingers and bringing them to his lips. He sucked your juices off each digit, savoring your taste. "But first, I'm going to devour this sweet cunt until you're screaming my name."

And then it happened—the wave crashed over you, pulling you under with a force that left you gasping for breath. You could barely comprehend the bliss as Jisung held you through your climax, his tongue continuing to coax every last ounce of pleasure from you.

Finally, as the tide receded, you collapsed back onto the bed, panting. Jisung joined you, a satisfied grin plastered on his face. “See? I told you I wanted you to feel everything.”

You turned to him, your heart still racing as you caught your breath. “You definitely delivered,” you replied, a smirk forming on your lips.

But he wasn’t done.

Not even a little bit.

Jisung's eyes darkened with renewed desire as he watched you catch your breath. Without warning, he grabbed your wrist and guided your hand to the prominent bulge straining against his jeans.

"Your turn," he growled, voice husky with need. "Show me what those pretty fingers can do."

You could feel the heat radiating through the denim as your palm pressed against his hardness. Slowly, teasingly, you began to trace the outline of his cock, relishing the way his breath hitched at your touch.

Your fingers deftly unbuttoned Jisung's jeans, slowly lowering the zipper. You could feel the heat of his arousal as you slipped your hand inside, wrapping your fingers around his thick shaft. Jisung let out a low groan, his hips bucking slightly at your touch. "Fuck, your hand feels so good," he breathed, eyes half-lidded with pleasure.

You began to stroke him, marveling at how hard he felt in your grasp. Your thumb swirled over the sensitive head, spreading the bead of precum that had formed there. Jisung's breathing grew ragged as you continued your ministrations, alternating between long, slow strokes and quicker, teasing ones. "You like that, Ji?" you purred, enjoying the way he squirmed under your touch.

Jisung's response was a strangled moan as you tightened your grip slightly, twisting your wrist on the upstroke. His hands fisted in the sheets, chest heaving as he fought to maintain control. "It feels fucking amazing," he gasped. "But I need more. I need to feel those pretty lips wrapped around me."

With a wicked grin, you freed Jisung's throbbing cock from your grasp and planted yourself between his legs. You leaned in, running your tongue along the underside of his shaft, savoring the salty tang of his skin and precum before taking the head into your mouth.

Jisung's hands flew to your hair, fingers tangling in the strands as he groaned at the sensation of your warm mouth enveloping him. "Fuck yes, just like that," he encouraged, hips canting up involuntarily as you began to bob your head.

You took more of him inside, relaxing your throat to accommodate his girth. The musky flavor of his arousal filled your senses as you sucked harder, your hand fondled his taut abs. Jisung was lost in bliss, eyes rolling back as he ground himself against your face.

You could feel Jisung's cock throbbing against your tongue, his breathing growing more erratic as you worked him over. Your own arousal was building once again, the wetness between your thighs a testament to the pleasure he'd wrung from you earlier.

Deciding it was time to mix things up, you released his shaft with a pop and kissed my way back up Jisung's body. You nipped at his chin before capturing his lips in a searing kiss, forcing his tongue into your mouth as you ground your soaked pussy against the bulge of his thigh.

Jisung broke the kiss, panting heavily as he gazed down at you with lust-clouded eyes. "God, I need to be inside you," he growled, voice raw with desire."I'm going to fuck you so hard."

With that promise hanging in the air, he flipped us over and positioned himself between your spread legs.

A giggle released of your lungs at the sudden movement, he chuckle darkly too, “having fun pretty?” He hums nibbling your jawline.

You nods making him smile.

Jisung's thick cock rubbed against your slick folds, the head nudging at your entrance as he looked down at you with a hungry gaze. "You ready for this, baby?" he purred, his voice low and rough with need.

You nodded again eagerly, wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling him closer. With a swift thrust of his hips, Jisung buried himself to the hilt inside you. A strangled moan tore from your throat as he stretched you open, filling every inch of your clenching cunt. "Fuck," Jisung groaned, eyes fluttering shut as he savored the feel of your pussy gripping him like a vice.

"So tight... Perfect." He began to move then, withdrawing until just the tip remained inside before slamming back in with enough force to bounce you up the bed.

The bed creaked beneath you as Jisung pistoned in and out of your sopping wet pussy, each powerful thrust driving him deeper. You could feel the head of his cock rubbing against that sensitive spot inside you, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body with every pass.

"u-ugh..!" you cried out, nails digging into Jisung's back as he pounded into you like a man possessed. He obliged, increasing the pace until the room filled with the lewd slap of skin on skin and your wanton moans.

Jisung leaned down to capture one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking and nipping at it mercilessly as he continued to rut between your thighs. The added stimulation sent you hurtling towards another climax. "Oh god, I'm going to...!" Your words dissolved into a keening wail as orgasm crashed over you once more.

But Jisung wasn't done yet.

He rode out your climax, his cock still hammering into you as he chased his own release.

Your pussy spasmed around him, milking his shaft for all it was worth.Jisung groaned against your breast, the vibrations sending shivers down your spine.

"Gonna fill this sweet cunt up," he gritted out through clenched teeth. With a final, brutal thrust, he buried himself to the hilt and held there, pulsing as he pumped ropes of hot semen deep inside you.

You could feel every pulse of his cock as it painted your insides with his seed, the sensation prolonging your own aftershocks. Jisung collapsed on top of you, chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. He peppered kisses across your face before claiming your lips in a deep, satisfying kiss.

"hm," he murmured against your mouth when they finally parted. "liked it?”

You nods a little as you tried to keep your breath steady, “that was, unexpected,” you mumble as he moved from top of you, laying on the bed beside you. “but I still liked it.”

Jisung’s lips curled into a satisfied grin as he propped himself up on one elbow, his dark hair tousled and falling into his eyes. He reached out, tracing a gentle finger along the curve of your cheek, sending a shiver down your spine.

“I liked it too,” he teased, his voice low and warm, the playful glint in his eyes impossible to ignore. “Gotta keep things interesting, don’t I? otherwise my number one fan might goes somewhere else.”

You laughed softly, rolling onto your side to face him. “You definitely succeeded in that department,” you admitted, brushing a strand of hair from his face. “But now I’m wondering what other surprises you’re hiding.”

Jisung’s grin widened as he leaned closer, his lips brushing against your forehead. “Oh, I’ve got plenty of tricks up my sleeve,” he whispered mischievously. “But you’ll have to wait to find out.”

Your cheeks flushed at his words, and he chuckled, clearly enjoying the effect he had on you. Before you could respond, he tugged the blanket over both of you, wrapping an arm securely around your waist.

“Rest for now,” he said softly, his tone suddenly tender. “You’re gonna need your energy for whatever I’ve got planned next.”

You couldn’t help but smile, the warmth of his embrace and the weight of his words leaving you with a mix of excitement and anticipation. As your breathing began to steady, you felt yourself melting into him, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulling you into a peaceful calm.

The next morning, the sunlight streaming through the curtains woke you. You stirred, stretching your arms across the bed, expecting to feel the warmth of Jisung beside you. Instead, your hand met the cool, empty sheets.

Blinking, you sat up, the faint scent of his cologne lingering in the fabric surrounding you. It was comforting and cruel all at once—a reminder that he had been there, but he was gone now.

Your gaze wandered around the room, your chest tightening when you spotted the note on the nightstand. The messy scrawl of his handwriting stood out on the folded piece of paper. You hesitated before picking it up, afraid of what it might say but needing to see it anyway.

Sorry I couldn’t stay. Early flight. Thanks for last night. You’re amazing. – J

That was it. Short, sweet, and heartbreakingly impersonal.

Your fingers trembled as you set the note down, staring at the space where he’d been just hours ago. The events of last night replayed in your mind—the way he’d held you, the way he’d kissed you like you were his whole world. And yet, now, it felt like you were nothing more than a fleeting moment, another name on the long list of people who drifted in and out of his life.

You pulled the sheets closer around you, as if they could somehow hold the pieces of your heart together. But they didn’t. They only smelled of him, a scent that would fade just as quickly as his presence had.

You had always known the truth—he belonged to the world, not to you. You were just someone he turned to for comfort in between the chaos, a temporary escape from the demanding life he led.

And yet, it didn’t make it hurt any less.

Swallowing hard, you forced yourself out of bed, your feet heavy as they hit the floor. You needed to leave before the scent of him faded completely, before the memories turned from bittersweet to unbearable.

Because in the end, that’s all you’d ever be—a groupie in the background of his world, left behind as he chased the next city, the next stage, the next dream.

taglist: @inlovewithstraykids

#han jisung #skz #stray kids #han jisung fluff #han jisung x reader #han jisung smut #han jisung skz #( skz. — 💭! )#han smut #han jisung stray kids #han jisung idol #stray kids han #han jisung fic #hanji #han jisung x y/n #han jisung x you #han jisung x fluff

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needanaccount2readarcaneposts · 1 day ago

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every time i read a post about how, "silco kept fighting relentlessly for a free zaun because it's what fELiCiA wOuLd hAvE wAnTed," i add another name to my kill list (in minecraft).

we'll never fucking undo the damage s2 has done to his characterisation.

let people believe in things bigger than themselves without needing some secret twist reason. let people fight for something because they observed an injustice in the world and decided to fucking do something about it, without needing a personal motivation tied to a tragic dead friend/family member/lover/whatever.

it is one thing for s1 to acknowledge that, while silco was always a true believer, his trauma at vander's hands is responsible for informing his view on the need for unflinching ruthlessness; for excising weakness. but s2 is now vander-ifying silco and fandom is eating it right up; making him 'more sympathetic' by suggesting that his determination to keep fighting in the first place was in some way tied to a lost loved one. because in a liberal media framework that serves the interest of capital, it is dangerous to suggest that someone can be motivated by purely ideological reasons and still be sympathetic. can still be right to want what they want, or do what they do.

i'm gonna make Outlaw Kings & Rebellion Chic required reading for everyone, and have included more extracts under the cut, but in summary:

Violence that does not proceed from personal injury requires no such breakdown. This kind of primarily ideological violence can be directed against a perfectly functional system - functional, at least, for the perpetrator - simply because it appears the ‘just’ thing to do. No wonder, then, that in our mass media, the characters practising ideological violence are cast as morally unsound. If normality is not self-evident but a site of contention, then it problematises easy narratives of rebels vs tyrants. And if dispute over the political system is enough to justify force, then that implies violence against the modern Western state, even its violent overthrow, could be justifiable. This is understandably concerning for many writers, who tend to come from backgrounds closer to the Lannisters than the ‘smallfolk’.

If a person can commit violence simply because they believe it’s right, without any hidden ambition, then nothing stops us from acting to change the world.

Separately, there is in screenwriting a kind of uncodified rule: villains act, heroes react. The hero, according to traditional Hollywood structure, can’t fulfil their destiny until an extraordinary event drags them out of the world they know. More often than not, that event begins with the villain. Harry Potter is only the Chosen One because Lord Voldemort killed his parents. Luke Skywalker would have stayed on Tatooine dreaming of adventure, until Darth Vader’s attack on a rebel ship sends a secret message to his farm. Frodo would be safe and happy in Hobbiton if not for Sauron. Heroes rarely set out to change the world. Villains want change, and heroes run to keep up. [...] Many of these characters live with occupation, oppression, and state brutality as part of their daily lives, but they don’t turn to violent resistance until their families are directly threatened or killed. When heroes commit political violence, it must be to avenge a personal injury. This is supposed to be substantively different from political violence committed for ideological reasons, which receives a much less sympathetic treatment. [...] When we see violent characters who kill for primarily political reasons, they are often anti-heroes at best, outright villains at worst. The idea of the full circle revolution - of the secret dictator hiding in the throat of every rebel leader, waiting to leap out and betray the non-ideological hero - is utterly pervasive. It appears in videogames, where good old-fashioned all-American heroes like Jim Raynor of Starcraft or Booker DeWitt of Bioshock Infinite are betrayed by villainous revolutionaries Arcturus Mengsk and Daisy Fitzroy (and after all they’ve done for them!). It is common in films, from supervillains like Magneto and Killmonger, liberationists written as would-be conquerors, to the rebels of The Hunger Games, who vote to continue the games as soon as they’re in power, except with the children of the dethroned elite rather than the children of the poor. The same reversal is mentioned in A Song of Ice and Fire, where rebel slaves, once liberated, enslave their former masters; in the TV version, an evil fundamentalist visits the kind of cruelty on the King’s Landing nobility that they visited on others. In all these examples we see an echo of the primal fear of every oppressive class, the nightmare at the heart of modern white supremacy: what if someone did to us what we’ve done to them? Liberation is re-imagined as the world turned not so much upside-down but mirrored. [...]

Rensin attributes the hatred of the High Sparrow to his hypocrisy, but I don’t think that’s quite right. What is terrible about the High Sparrow is that he has no personal grievance. He didn’t see his father killed by the ‘good guys’, like Killmonger. His family weren’t murdered by his oppressors, like Magneto. By his own account the High Sparrow was a cobbler who became disillusioned, found religion, and now, thanks to the vagaries of a civil war among the elite, finds himself in a position to overturn the social order. The feudal system of Westeros never injured him personally. He simply came to believe it should be torn down, and acted accordingly.

We seem to find this faintly repellent. We are so used to looking for an ulterior motive that, when we can’t find one, we grow uncomfortable. If a good person can commit violence simply because they believe it’s right, without any hidden ambition, then nothing stops us from acting to change the world. [...] Violence that does not proceed from personal injury requires no such breakdown. This kind of primarily ideological violence can be directed against a perfectly functional system - functional, at least, for the perpetrator - simply because it appears the ‘just’ thing to do. No wonder, then, that in our mass media, the characters practising ideological violence are cast as morally unsound. If normality is not self-evident but a site of contention, then it problematises easy narratives of rebels vs tyrants. And if dispute over the political system is enough to justify force, then that implies violence against the modern Western state, even its violent overthrow, could be justifiable. This is understandably concerning for many writers, who tend to come from backgrounds closer to the Lannisters than the ‘smallfolk’.

#i am begging everyone to please just ignore that fucking felicia flashback #singularly the worst thing to ever happen to silco as a character except maybe the 'walk away' monologue #arcane critical #silco #arcane

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lvrboy-inc · 2 days ago

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“Siren” — K.M.

“Boy, I know what you desire..”

“Oh, you’re such a bad, bad liar.”

꒰: Précis | After a shitty breakup with a subpar man, you find yourself drawn to the lights and sleaze of the nearest bar. Drink away your problems or fuck and forget them with the bartender who’s hot as hell.

꒰: Disclaimer(s) | Dirty talk, praise, coercion, praise, spitting, hair pulling, PRAISE, pet names (♡)

꒰: Word Count ; 10.2k

꒰: Sweetest Sin Masterlist

Incubus Bartender!Satoru

Sad Drunk Virgin m!reader

“You seem tense, handsome..”

Starting your night off with a shitty breakup and one two many drinks might’ve not been the best route to take. In hindsight at least.

Your co-workers had already urged you to break it off with the less than desirable man who could barely breathe without working your nerves and not only that—trying to make you work in the bedroom.

It was an endless cycle of “You get on top, work for me.” and never him using the hips that God gave him to work you out—always ending in a resounding turn off, consistently followed up with, “Next time for sure.” So, after he had started an argument, ending in trauma being spat out in a fit of anger, you felt thankful, grateful, blessed even that he gave you a reason.

But..all breakups are hard to get over. Whether they were a long time coming or not, it’s always a shitty experience.

What’s always the best unhealthy coping mechanism for such..? A drink, of course.

“A drink.”

That was the intention..but you wound up getting more plastered than expected and crying out your woes to the bartender who had only asked whether you’d be putting things on your tab or card for the night.

He was charismatic—maybe because of the job description and having to be a poster boy for such a place. Sweet talking drinks into vulnerable people so he could get tips and points from his boss for making them profit. It was a good hustle, respectable and fun.

Not to mention..he was damn good at it.

After a bit of a slurred exchange of words, you’d gotten to know a few things about him: His name, Satoru, Satoru Gojo. 28, graduated college with a psych major, infinitely and criminally tall—6’3 to be exact—and to your surprise, swung both ways. Often.

You found yourself asking stupid questions just so he would slide your way from the other customers.

“I’m starting to think I should cut you off,” He teased after about the 5th call over.

You raised up your head to rest in the palm of your hand, running your index over the rim of the golden-lined glass he’d refilled so many times now. Some of it you drank, most of it you babysat. “I’m pacing myself alright..” You’d slur out with a mild puffing of your cheeks.

“Oh yeah? Your cheeks are flushed, hun. Unless that’s just from staring too long.” The way he pointed out your fluster so obviously couldn’t have made it go down any.

“You’re too cocky..‘m holding over fine.” A bit snippy but he laughed heartily, drying off a used glass with the hand towel he’d kept attached to his hip.

Even from this distance, you could just tell he smelled nice. Maybe it was the already alcoholic aroma that the rather sleazy place held but you could’ve sworn there were hints of cologne—expensive cologne—that mingled with it.

Those piercing blues he had, barely dimmed out by the lighting of the establishment flickered over you and a slick smile spread across his lips. “Then, please, I’m at your disposal. Need another drink, pretty boy?”

An initial sound of surprise came with the name but you turned away from him slightly and blew a stray strand of hair from in front of your eyes. “No..”

“Ah, so you did just want to talk to me.”

“Shut up..don’t you have a job to do?” You quickly retorted with a harsh roll of eyes.

Shrugging, he waved a small goodbye. Not before adding on a small, “You’re technically a part of it..”

And in another moment, you were back to eating up the eye candy. In your mild boredom, you opened up your phone to see your shitty ex spamming you across every platform imaginable—TikTok, Insta, Snap, Facebook, hell, he went as far as to email you. He was hooked and just seeing the mass notifications made you want to throw the whole device away.

That’s when you got a really..really bad idea.

About an hour went by and the promiscuous bartender had paid you a few more stops of his own volition. Each encounter got more and more..suggestive, to say the least.

From mild flirting to him finally saying, “My eyes are up here, you know.” when yours were drifting.

“Obviously..but that’s not really the objective.”

He visibly was caught off guard by your comment, going as far as to lean his arms forward onto the bar top, eyes now boring into your soul it felt like as he purred out a response. “Oh? And what might your objective be? You’ve been eyeing me since you walked in, can’t help but feel you undressing me.”

“I’m not some sort of pervert—you’re making it sound worse than it is.” Furrowing your brows slightly, he tilted his head in that oh-so innocent fashion.

It was hard to not crack a smile.

“I am,” He admitted smoothly, now actively ignoring a small trio of women at the end of the counter. “But, you didn’t answer my question.”

With one last adjustment of his neck, he was staring right at you. “What’s your objective here, pretty boy?”

“Is it not obvious?”

“Terribly. But, I’d just love it if you could use your words. Give me something worth listening to and blowing off customers for.” His tone, his posture, his eyes—God, this is what true temptation feels like.

Working up the courage which..didn’t take long, thanks to liquid confidence, you squared your shoulders a bit to meet his gaze properly. “My objective is you. Is that so hard to piece together?”

“Don’t talk about things being hard right now.”

…

A round of silence and you were pulling a pen out of his breast pocket, you went along and grabbed his notepad as well. “And what are you doing now?”

“Giving you my cell..obviously.” Quipping back, you started to jot down the series of numbers before his slender fingers were pulling the parchment down so your focus was back on him once more.

He flashed that award-winning smile and stood up straight again. “No need. My shift ends in 30.”

Oh, he was confident.

“Make it 25. My place or yours?”

Finally, the women at the end had gotten more than impatient and wound up calling out a not-so passive, aggressive, “Bartender!” from down the way to which he cast a small grin your way.

“Duty calls.” He said briefly and then, he was gone again. Was he serious..? Maybe the drinks were really just getting to you but Lord..the way he spoke to you, sized you up—he wanted to talk about undressing people with their eyes? Please.

You could almost feel how he was defiling you in his head.

Among other things, you decided to down the rest of your drink and ultimately did put it on your tab. Once he’d taken down his apron and you had gathered the remnants of your heart that had led you to this point, you both were walking out with an air of civility…

Such a stark contrast to the debauchery that was promising the night.

Initially, you’d offered to take your car but he waved a hand with a chuckle, pointing over to a white Mustang GT sitting pretty in the parking lot. “I’ll get my co-worker to keep an eye on your ride for the night. You can come get it in the morning, ‘kay, handsome?”

“Should I feel insulted..?”

He looked around for a bit before looking back down at you. “I don’t know, are you into that sorta thing?”

“Do you always talk to people like this?”

“Hm, like what?” Peering in closer, he dug his keys out of his pocket, twirling them around his index for a moment before resting them in his palm.

Crossing your arms and beginning the path to his car, you spoke, “Like a slut.”

“Are you not one too, though?” He drawled, purposely keeping his strides slow just so you could keep up easily in your dwindling intoxication. “I mean, you came to my place of work, talked me up, now, we’re heading back to your place—is that not slut behavior?”

You got ready to make another smart comment but wound up falling short and simply digging an elbow into his ribs that elicited a pained groan followed by light laughter.

He was enjoying this way too much.

Even on the ride home, he wouldn’t let up in his relentless teasing fit. With the low rumbling of the smooth engine carrying you across the streets of the night city, he held one hand on the wheel whilst the other rested on the gear shift.

Every so often though, he’d try and drift his fingers over..over and up to your thigh which made you crane your neck to give him a sideways glance. “We’re not even halfway there yet..” You chastised lowly to which he moved his hand down, giving your thigh a playful squeeze instead of the devilish wandering it’d been doing before.

“Oh, I’m sorry, is foreplay not your thing?” Scoffing lightly, he shook his head and briefly peeled his eyes away from the road to look over you once again—it was becoming a habit. “I thought maybe you’d be as eager as I am—seeing as you’re the one who came onto me, after all.”

Rolling your eyes instinctively, you turned to face the window a bit. “Barely..I gave hints and you took them to ten fold. And I do like foreplay, seeing as my ex lacked the ability…I just wouldn’t want it to wind up with us fogging up these windows.”

“Please, I wouldn’t fuck you in my car,” He said it quick, as if he was a bit offended at the proposition. “I respect my baby better than to make a mess of either of you in here.”

That shut you up rather quickly.

You let your head make a small thud against the cold glass with an audible, “Hmph.” But, it was rather deterred when your hand moved over his, dragging it up further until it basically rested on the junction of your hips and leg. He didn’t make a comment and neither did you, save for the way your body spoke, pressing your thighs lightly together to hold his hand there.

Regardless, the rest of the drive was calm and when you’d arrived back to your quaint condo, just a bit out from the center of the cityscape, he turned the keys out of the ignition and got out of the driver’s side door.

Moving to open up the door, you started to get out before he was right there in front of it, closing it back. “What the hell?” You exclaimed, given the roughness of the pushback.

He took a few moments before opening the door so gently and leaning down to your sitting level. “You’re trying to rob me of my gentlemanly status, pretty boy. Can’t have that now, can we?” With that, he extended a flat palm your way which you took—not without a low, grumbled string of complaints at his dramatacism.

You fumbled with your keys for a split second before getting up to the door. Satoru loomed behind you, making a small shiver trail over your spine—that cologne was his.

Once getting inside, you were greeted by your precious feline companion who, instead of rubbing against your ankles, circled through Satoru’s. He gave a deep laugh of amusement, crouching down to scratch behind the furry friend’s ear to which he purred and mewed in response. “What’s its name?”

“His name is Dot.” You gave back, just the slightest bit jealous that the cat had taken a bigger liking to the house guest than the man who fed him every day. “He usually doesn’t like house guests..” A mild jab at the pet who was jingling and purring as Satoru catered to his sweet spots.

Though..after enough time and playful back and forth, just getting to know one another, flirting..whispering..trading spit..things got much more hot and heavy much quicker than you expected.

Once he’d had his tongue down your throat, it tasted..sweet. Not even in the metaphorical sense but like a literal syrup—an addictively sweet taste that had your head spinning..hazy, even.

Your back was already flat against the bed and he was taking his time..so much so you were getting impatient. Breaking the seal between your spit-drenched lips with a soft pwah, he was breathing right into your mouth. He trailed his hand up along the column of your throat and finally, a thumb was swiping across your bottom lip, pressing down on it just to get a glimpse of your lower set.

“Somethin’ wrong..?” God..how did he sound even more sultry than before..? All panting, just as his low-lidded eyes fell on yours. “Don’t tell me you’re backing out now..”

Just for a moment, you were speechless. Now, you were really feeling the effects. Kissing’s never felt this good before..ever. And that haze from before? It was becoming a lot more prominent. “My head..feels weird..” You breathed out, finding yourself gradually heating up..from the inside.

“Ah, you’re catching on, pretty boy.” Catching on? To what exactly?

Instead of giving any sort of reassurance, his knee was creating friction along your jeans that were already straining. It was all so warm..hot, burning..something was off and all you could trace it back to was the man on top of you now. “It’s been so long since I’ve gotten an easy mark like you..you really did make this way too easy, handsome.” He purred, trailing kisses and nips down your collarbones—exposed by your loose hanging shirt—and down, down, down.

It was so heated, every touch he showered your body with, even the simple action of him sliding his fingertips under your tee and dragging the fabric up was enough to make you squirm.

“What are you..talking about..?” You managed to say, relatively snapping back to a bit of reality. Despite how he was already kissing down from where your ribs connected under your skin, past your midsection and laving his tongue over your navel—it was obvious he was avoiding your questions.

Deft fingers picked apart the button of your pants, leaving them hanging open until he was back over top of your face. Satoru was analyzing your features, each twitch and shift in expression—the effect he was having on you.

It was utterly adorable.

Watching that stressed, pretty face all night, going from ranting and raving about a man who could hardly be called such to opening up into his own drunken desire and now laid out underneath him—fuck, it was a head rush.

“You seem tense, handsome..” The name rolled off his tongue like a vice and you could’ve sworn you were hooked. “Are you finally realizing what you got yourself into, hm?”

It was only a second. You blinked, eyes already squinting through each glance up at him and before you knew it he wasn’t..him anymore. With each passing open and shut rhythm it was something:

First his teeth, he was speaking but God knows you weren’t tuned in. Then the hands that had once been so soft, neatly cut and filed down grew into something sharp—clawed. And finally, there were those damn horns. You wished, hoped prayed that you were just too out of it to really be seeing straight but..it was real.

That cute bartender, the one who had teased and teased, led you on and wrapped you around his finger for the night..was a demon. An incubus at that—which, when it dawned on you, became even more of a problem.

Obviously, the first reaction was panic, a widespread “fight or flight” response that gradually was dimmed out. Next thing you knew, he was laughing..like, genuinely, cracking the fuck up. He could see the struggle in your eyes, the burning want, the need to fight back but oh..that little party trick from earlier was doing its job.

“Shh, shhh..it’s alright, nothin’ to worry your pretty little head about. Relax f’me..thaaat’s it..” He was speaking so slowly, so tauntingly, it felt like he was dumbing you down with his voice alone. “Fun fact about incubi—their spit counts as raw aphrodisiac..”

He leaned in closer, licking away a stray tear that had rolled down to the peak of your cheekbone before disappearing onto the warmth of his tongue. “And another fun fact..you kiss like a fuckin’ pornstar.” Already, his mouth was in desperate need of some soap.

If it’d stopped there, that would’ve been ideal. You could barely think straight, poor thing. A little too turned on for a first time, scared out of your wits, and still..still wanting to go further. You wanted him to take you further.

“Don’t you worry about a siiingle thing,” A low purr would escape him as his hands’ earlier work at your shirt finally finished, sliding it up and over your head until it was then pulled right around your wrists—he made it so. “Let me do allll that fuckin’ work for you. I told you you’re a part of my job, didn’t I..?”

You took in a shuddering breath, head instinctively flicking over to the side with a subtle roll of your hips. Oh-so absentmindedly your movements were..because as his nails made their tracings along your skin—from your chest, where he leaned all the way down just to shower your sensitive buds with the utmost attention, to how his palms then rubbed over your hips—you were just grinding.

Grinding it out on the rough fabric covering his knee as he steadily worked you over. His tongue felt..different. As in, before, it was..softer, more inviting, cute even. But now..? God, it could’ve wrapped around your cock twice and still reach the base with ease. That was a bet.

He was reveling in the series of whimpers and whines that you drenched his ears with, each one offering up a low, vibrating chuckle against your chest.

“Mhn.. ‘Toru..” Damn, was that your voice speaking..? Where did all this “Toru” business come from..? Whatever..all you knew was it tasted like heaven in your mouth and like a siren’s call to his brain. “S-stop fuckin’ around already..demon, incubus or not, you got me hot and bothered so deal with it—properly.”

A round of tutting left him as he finally detached himself from your now-swollen nipples, only to go back in to land a bite and minor tug on one of them. Already, the action alone had your legs trying to close up around his, stomach fluttering just from the feeling of his sharp canines digging in. Oh you knew he left a mark. You could already feel it.

Just as quickly as he doled out his physical reprimand, he was back to his affectionate, lewd lapping at your nub, alternating between each and giving whichever was orally unattended, pinches and rolls between his fingers. “I thought you liked foreplay, pretty boy..don’t tell me you got a little impatient and changed your mind?”

“You’ve got the brain of a whore and the body of a virgin—what kinda joke is that?” Sitting back on his haunches, both of his hands crossed over his pelvis, gripping the ends of his shirt as he tugged it off over his head. In all honesty your body had a reaction to that—a small gasp that he undoubtedly heard as well.

The shocking part wasn’t even the sheer cut of him, no, but the pair of wings that accompanied. A dark, charcoal black that differed so heavily from the pure white that his hair adorned. Stemming from his chiseled shoulder blades like a stalk.

His attention ran right back to you as he readjusted himself between your legs, both hands snaking to your inner thighs as he parted them like a sea: slow and deliberate. One of them trailed up further..coming to rest just before your groin where he splayed his fingers out.

“Hey,” A more baritone call for your attention as he stared you head on. “This is gonna really suck while I’m not inside you so..hold out for me, ‘kay?”

Rubbing soothing circles over where his fingers had found purchase, he rolled his hips forward, cracking that smile that was now sullied by the sharpness of his once-straight and narrow dental set. “You can hold out f’me, right?”

He wasn’t even asking. He talked like it was a fact.

“Nah, I know you can..you can take anything I throw at you..” Before you could even deny it, to tell him to reevaluate his expectations of your threshold, it was in motion.

The surging energy that he flowed out into your lower body first, then the crackle of electricity that followed suit, gradually descending into a sickening ache inside that felt like an inferno needing to be quelled. You squirmed and writhed, fragile fingers threatened to tear up your sheets as your strained voice caught up in your throat.

Eyes squeezed shut as you grit your teeth so hard you thought they could’ve cracked from the pressure. He was murmuring words of praise, encouragement, of urging you to endure it. And after a bit, it was less painful and more just a throbbing need that already had you breathless.

“Haah..fuck, what is..God..” The last name was said like it was the worst of profanity as you finally worked up enough gall to look down. Once his hand lifted from its place, that’s when you saw it.

Right there, just below where your stomach ended and your happy trail began—a fucking womb tattoo.

No, like, for real. It was engraved in your skin, staining your flesh that same charcoal black with the intricate scrawl of abstract twists all centered around a hollow heart design.

Fuck how it looked though—your body was screaming.

Just from the proximity alone from Satoru, it was getting harder to breathe, harder to even think straight and his pants weren’t even off yet. Was this the power of a real fucking demon? Able to bring a man to his knees with just a few well-placed touches and words of slutty promise?

“Toruuu..it burns..” A pathetic whine fell from your lips as you ran your hands down to try and soothe the ache. But not only with your shirt tangled up along your wrists but one of his own pinning them back against the headboard, you were stuck.

That roll of his hips had gotten bolder, more rhythmic..you could feel how much he was into this. Not only by the way he seemed to do it mindlessly, his breathy pants and the slight flutter of his abnormal appendages, but God..the fucking print.

Oh, it was fucking big.

Here he was, trying to keep you under control when he seemed like he would burst at the seams with one wrong move. “I know, I know..I feel it too, baby..” This whole time, he’d been rather composed—you know, while making you fall apart—but even now, it seemed hard for even him to keep himself under control.

“Tell me,” There went that damn tone again, though, instead of that cocky arrogance, it was almost desperate. “Do you want this as much as I do..? Don’t think with your dick right now, as hard as I know that is to do that right now…”

Trailing off, his free hand cupped your jaw, making blown pupils meet the zeroed. You could’ve gotten high off the eye contact alone at this point. “Say the word and I’ll stop—you won’t have to remember this ever happened. You’ll forget everything about me, your body will go right back to how it was and..I’ll be gone.”

“But I’ll miss this face..those eyes, your voice..oh…” No matter how much he was prioritizing you, how much he meant every word he said..he couldn’t help but pray, beg for God to do him a solid and let you say yes to this. “Come on, pretty boy..”

“Talk to me.”

It was less of an asking and much more like a command. Your hesitation was so evident in the way your breath hitched with each labored inhale and exhale. The proposition was set but the real question remained unanswered—were you really about to give up your virginity to an incubus..?

…

Well..yeah.

Making sure you never took your eyes off him, after what felt like an eternity, you uttered, “I crave it, Toru..please, don’t get me all the way here and leave me..I need you. Need to feel you in places I don’t know exist…” And with a final batting of your lashes, you breathed, “..need you to fuckin’ ruin me.”

That did it.

“Goddamn your mouth is so fuckin’ nasty,” Like a flip switched in his brain, he was on you. Gone was the gentle caress of his kiss��replaced by the starved devouring of your lips, teeth and tongue as he finally got serious. “I cannot wait to break you the fuck in.”

And by God did he mean it in every sense of the word.

His hands were everywhere: your hips, thighs, face, anywhere he could get a feel for you. A feel for the heat that you were radiating and pouring off in gallons. It didn’t take long at all for him to start tugging at the rest of the clothing that was keeping him from what he was gunning for.

Bits and pieces of fabric stripped away like nothing but an inconvenience before being discarded into the growing pile of articles on the floor. Once you were laid out bare in front of him, you faintly caught wind of an instinctive, “Fuck..” Slipping from his mouth before he was already hooking your leg onto his shoulder.

Even in his haste, he was handling you with sooo much care. His bites felt like nips and grazes before he was leaning in closer..further up until the heated inner of your thigh was burning the side of his face. He stayed there for a moment closing his eyes like he was an aerosol fiend.

But oh, oh when those glaciers met your gaze again, he bit down, hard. Those canines of his were a force to be reckoned with because the yelp that tore from you upon the breaking of skin was awful.

“What the hell, Toru..?” You complained, furrowing your eyebrows down into an expression that was meant to be scolding but you couldn’t deny the way the new addition to your skin was twisting your perception of pain and pleasure oh so deliciously.

And boy did he know. One turned into two and gradually, your thighs were stained with his saliva and the clear imprint of his teeth—slightly bloodied and hickeys for daaays.

At one point, you’d closed your legs up around him, a feeble attempt at a timeout but he wasted no time in prying then right back open, lowering his head enough to lick a looong, slow stripe up your neglected cock that had been sitting so pretty on the sidelines.

You really were acting like a virgin—the simple lick making your hips lift up just a bit before the contact was taken back away. A whimper of protest was heard at the loss of sensation and before you knew it, he was speaking again. “Ahh, is that what you want, pretty boy? Hm?”

Although his eyes were on you right now, he couldn’t help but feel the effects of not only smelling—seeing, touching, breathing—but tasting you on his tongue. All the while with both hands busy and his pants seeming like the greatest obstacle on Earth. But he digressed, bringing up a sharp-nailed hand to press his palm down juuust enough to glide up and dig your length a bit further against your stomach.

“Wanna feel my mouth giving all my attention to this cute cock of yours, hm?” A drawl of a question and you were already getting driven up the wall by the physical aspect that came with it. “Come onnn, what did I say about using your words, sweetheart?”

Did he like..need you to die in the process of all this?

A simpering moan was all your mind could muster up before you let out a light puff, willing yourself to meet those eyes that seemed to be doing more work than anything else right now. “Please, Toru..You’re driving me insane..” Breathless and absolutely helpless—just how he liked you.

The verbal queue was all he needed. With one chuckled out, “Good boyyy.” Oh he was getting to work.

That tongue that had seemingly grown in measure was going alongside with his hands—smooth and soft, yet a little calloused—that took your aching shaft up into his palm. He fucking kissed up, from base to tip and then swiped his tongue back and forth under your sensitive frenulum before using those plump lips to give playful sucks to your weeping slit.

Swirling that aphrodisiac-saliva slick all over until you finally caved, pulling your forearms in front of your eyes and just barely stifling out your voice from behind them. The muscles in your thighs were just shivering, and he hadn’t even taken it all in yet.

God you were fucking hopeless.

Satoru’s hands rubbed soothingly along your inners as he showered your cockhead with sooo much care. It was so much yet still not enough. “Mhn..f-fuck, deeper..please..” Even as you begged for more, your body was following its own rhythm, hips bucking up into the inviting heat of his mouth. “Come on..you’re a..haah, demon, right..? This is your job..right?”

“Then give me more.” You were taken aback by the urgency you held in your voice and he clearly was too—seeing as his tongue stopped its endless movement that had remained focused solely on the tip of your member. And in one, sharp-toothed grin, he was following your words to the letter.

Oh and God could you tell he had the experience of a lifetime. From head to base, he took it alll down. He even did the courtesy of holding his mouth there, swallowing around every delicious inch like it was the sweetest candy he’d ever. Fucking. Tasted.

The sensation was enough to make your head finally fall back into the plush pillow set that decorated the top of your bed, shuddering out a throaty groan and ultimately a sigh of relief. His tongue got back to work, even though he wasn’t moving his head, you could feel the methodical patterns he made along the underside, around—even going as far as to trace the veins that pulsed with each flick.

But when he started to move? Your eyes fluttered back like you were experiencing the first effects of anesthesia. Even with his sharpened set, you didn’t feel one bit of teeth.

The worst fucking part was those damn eyes.

You were avoiding his like a plague but you could feel them burning holes through you as your fingers raked through your hair. Yeah, you’d gotten sucked off before but goddamn, he was sucking the soul out of you.

Finally, your lids managed to peel open when your legs began to tense up, mindlessly rutting your pelvis up and down, just so desperate for that high you could feel coiling in your stomach. He noticed all the squirming, could taste the bittersweet of pre that dripped into his tongue each time he pulled his head back up—you both knew you were close.

A series of careening moans later and he pulled his lips off of you with a wet pop, putting in the effort to spit directly on the tip, rubbing his thumb over that weeping slit until you were sure you’d cramp up. His hand already picked up where his mouth left off and he was just heaving those barely useful, hot, shuddering, laughing breaths onto the connection of your shaft and head.

“You taste like fuckin’ heaven, pretty boy,” He said with a bit of a cockdrunk smile on his face. Those charcoal wings gave their own fluttering of excitement—now that you were slightly able to focus on something else other than his oral cavity. “I could suck this cock for hours and I’d keep going even when my jaw locks.”

And he wanted to talk about your mouth being nasty?

He brought his other hand to help with the job, left moving in short, up and down motions whilst the other was simply bullying the entrance of your urethra. Your hands, on the other hand, were simply just trying to find purchase on anything you could get them on.

The sheets, the pillow, your own tousled locks—whatever to help you cope with the burning need in your gut. “Oh f-fuck, oh God..‘Toru, Toru..!” You tumbled out in a hurried fashion as both your hands tried to close either ends of the pillow over your face to possibly shield you from the embarrassment..from those damn eyes. “Close.. ‘m close..s-so fuckin’..fuuuck..”

Vocabulary falling short, you heard the deep chuckle that he made, followed up by such a soft coo—all the while he was making you feel euphoric. It couldn’t have felt this good in its own..right? Sure, being a virgin was one thing but you’d gotten handys and blowjobs plenty of times before. It had to be that damn mark..right?

“Look at you..aww, you poor, poor thing,” The lilt in his voice made a whine of annoyance and frustration die out in the pillow that now barely masked your features. “You feelin’ it? My hands, my mouth, my breath..oh it’s just too much isn’t it? If you can’t handle this..”

He trailed off like he finished the sentence once in his head before finally verbalizing it, “Just how are you going to manage with my cock fucking you stupid? Huuh?”

Automatically, you felt another surge when his words reached your brain—not your ears but after they registered—and you were damn near trembling with the effort to hold back and keep up the tedious conversation. Or, it seemed rather tedious..to you.

“Can you imagine it already, huh? How it’s gonna feel when I finally sink in, the draaaag..Your eyes going cross when I bottom out, when you can feel me all the way up to your stomach—” He didn’t even get to finish his sentence before you were sent tumbling over the edge in a fit of muffled profanity and swears.

Once again, that raspy chuckle of his echoed against your walls, only quieted down when his lips wrapped around the twitching and now pulsating head of your cock that emptied out straight into his waiting maw.

He closed his eyes, you heard—and felt—his low hums of appreciation as he drank it all down like he was on the brink of dehydration. As he did, the symbol along your pelvic bone started illuminating the small space it took up. It was almost hypnotizing..

After what seemed like absolutely forever, you fell back into the pillows with strained sounds of your come down, looking down to find Satoru’s glaciers staring right back up at you through those snowy lashes. You’d expected a witty remark but he simply pulled his lips off, holding your softening shaft in one hand as he opened his mouth up.

There, you saw the aftermath of your own premature climax. Immediately, your face lit up with a deep crimson. “Jeez, I thought you swallowed already..!”

He shook his head, smiling cheekily.

“Are you waiting on my say-so..?”

A bout of silence..then another nod.

You pulled a face, glancing off to the side and only coming back when he gave a few more teasing strokes that made you yelp in frustration. “F-fine..! Swallow, spit, I don’t care..I just..”

“I just want to stop the burning in my stomach..it feels like…I’ll die without it—without you..” You breathed. “So quit fucking around and do me right.”

That did it for him, seeing as he swallowed with haste and stuck his tongue out to reveal the—relatively—empty contents. What he did next was more bold.

Slowly, surely, he raised his head up, peering in over you. Even after all this and such a lack of clothing, the scent of his cologne still drenched your senses and managed to make your vision just a bit hazier in the proximity. All of that amplified ten-fold when he sealed your mouths together.

Sloppy, and riddled with the taste of your own cum, he was taking your breath away with each slick slide of your tongues along one another. A heady mixture of that delicious aphrodisiac and something uniquely his.

This entire time he’d been so patient. Dragging it on for what seemed like absolute ages. So when you felt his hand sneaking down—past your navel, not at all skipping your sensitivity—and finally down to your patient, waiting, hole.

Just the graze was enough but when two—not one—of his lengthy digits slid in, and his breath began to fan across your face with each break of this kiss..it was showtime.

“Fun fact, pretty boy..” He’d say, curling his fingertips into a spot you couldn’t even reach properly before you met him. “This, this little symbol right here..?”

As your legs were starting to clamp up, he used his free hand to trace over the tattoo embedded into your pelvic bone. “Makes things sooo much easier for me—for us..” Trailing off, he had gotten just mildly carried away as he hit that sweet nerve inside that elicited such a tantalizing sound to drip from your lips. “It gets you all nice and ready for me and I don’t even have to do anything too bad, t’ya..”

“Ain’t that exciting?” Chiming, he got his answer via the resurgence of your erection against your stomach.

This was his element and clearly he was thriving.

The sound of his digits knuckle deep inside—stirring up the fire that was raging in yourty core—bounced off the walls like a symphony.

Your voice was only getting sweeter and sweeter, falling on his ears in a way that made his previous, mindless, grinding down into the sheets seem like it would never be enough.

It wasn’t enough.

Not with your tight heat already pulsing and gripping his fingers like a vice, giving him a perfect demonstration of what he could be buried in right now.

“C’monn, I’ll talk you through it if it hurts too bad but..fuck…I can’t hold off anymore,” He slid his fingers out of you, but not without a shiver running up your spine.

Drifting downward, he undid—what he would call—his restraints and slid off everything from the waist down. Once he kicked it off to the edge of the bed and over, Satoru sat up on his knees and began fisting the base of his thick shaft.

“You’ve been leading me on all night..a man can only take so much you know..” It was almost a whining complaint that he twisted into a slight reprimand. “Let’s take this all the way. Let me get you there. You know I’ll fuck you so right in all the wrong ways.”

Panting now, he looked down at how your body was screaming with Fahrenheit and anticipation as much a him. The puddle of slick pouring out into the slight indents of your abdomen from your sobbing cockhead—that, amongst others let him know just how he was getting to you.

Just a bit of finger fucking and you were already like this..? He couldn’t even begin to fathom how you’d be when all 7.4 sunk in.

A whine trailed out when, the slight of fullness had been removed from your pulsing walls. “‘Toru..” You frustratedly simpered out, covering up your eyes with your forearm. “Quit f-fucking playing..”

“Playing? I’m just waiting for you to drop the attitude and ask me how you know you’re s’posed to.” He snipped back. “You’re the one squirming around and enjoying yourself getting off on my hand but you’re still so confident.”

You bit back a groan at his bratty response and shivered out a sigh. “I’m..sorry.”

“For..?”

“For giving you lip about how you’re not inside me right now.”

He shrugged his shoulders and slid his dripping tip along the crevice of your as—teasing you with his hips each time it caught on the rim. “I think you can do better than that..” Each pass spreading the slick that was artificially—or ‘magically’—pouring out of you and the fat drops of pre that were coming from Satoru.

Leaning your head back, down into the pillow, you began to speak, “Haah..for being..defiant—”

“Look me in the eyes when you’re asking me for something. That’s common courtesy.” With a slight bite, he pressed the tip past just a bit and it was enough to make you trip up in your sentence.

Your arm fell from over your eyes and to the side of your head as you stared up at him with all due reluctance. It was mildly hard to tell with how your features were already being contorted by the promise of more. “I’m sorry for being..mhn..defiant. I’ll listen, I’ll be..good for you. So please give me what I want..”

“Atta boy.” He purred, taking that as a sign to ‘spontaneously forgive you’. In reality—he just hadn’t expected you to beg so fucking nicely with just a bit of teasing. Next thing you knew, he was bottoming out inside you.

The pathetic sound that your mouth produced was one you didn’t know you could make before. A gradual and steady ease into it would’ve been better but oh he did the exact opposite of any of that. He had let out his own slightly pained groan at the sheer grip that you had on every inch you’d taken so gracefully. Eyes falling directly down onto you, he gave a half-smile that was somewhat meant to convince himself, just as much as you that it wasn’t that big of a deal.

“Holy shit..fuck you feel…fuck..” Vocabulary failing for what felt like the first time during the entire encounter, you heard the light fluttering of his wings up on his shoulders–most likely compensating for the way his hips had jutted to a stop after the initial breach of both your senses.

The cherry on top had to be the fact that he had pressed down riiight onto that little symbol of yours. Exactly where you could feel his cockhead nestled so snugly inside. It didn’t help that the veins were pulsing as they struggled to all find purchase within your sopping wet hole. He pushed your legs back by your knees–not into a full-on mating press yet but just enough so he could start rocking and setting up a steadfast rhythm inside.

You thought it’d be easier to–well, who are we kidding? It was already hard enough for you to deal with him just being inside but now with that drag that was building up the friction your body felt like it’d been waiting ages for; you were already rendered a stuttering, tensed up mess.

Rampant fingers scrambling for him and finally pulling him down on top of you by the base of his horns, you earned a groan that faded off into a dry laugh. “Aw, already can’t seem to get me close enough? I’m already all the way up in your stomach, you know..”

“I..mnh..I know, I know..f-fuck, ‘s just..a lot.” You pieced together, even with the currents that were creating seas of pleasure through your veins. It was like each time he pulled out and dropped all the way back down into you, his throbbing cock found new spots to bully and pinpoint. “.. ‘Yer fillin’ me up so much I c-can barely think straight, ‘Toru..”

That hanging coo of his name made his heart–and well, dick–throb as he furrowed his eyebrows in slight concentration. He was building up a sweat, easy to tell from the droplets that slid down his brow ridge and past his face to fall onto you.

“Are you sure you’re a virgin..? Or do you just naturally say shit that makes me want to give up on trying to fuck you slow?” He grunted, each time with a deep grind against your deepest parts.

At one point, he went into what felt like full downward dog and that alone was enough to prove his question to be redundant. Poor you, you didn’t even know what that bit of hip curvature could do before you were shuddering out a premature orgasm that startled the both of you when it hit. You were slightly mortified at the fact you’d cum from just a few well-placed strokes but to Satoru, you couldn’t have stroked his ego any better. That little emblem glowed it’s white shimmer until your climax subsided, Satoru never really stopping his motions until you were completely sated and now thoroughly heightened in your nerves. “Fuck, ah, s-shit, I’m sorry I didn’t think I’d–”

“Why’re you apologizing for that?” He laughed out. “It’s only your first of tonight, anyway. Might as well get used to it..” Giving another scan over your body, he could see and feel just how much each little detail was contributing to the state you were in now. “Hey, can you..get on all fours for me..?” “Why..?”

“I want to see if you can get a few back to backs while I’m hitting it from the back.” So chipper about it, you couldn’t help the slight twist of annoyance that came with it. To him it was worth it though, just to see your face get all pouty about the matter.

Slowly withdrawing, he eased you off of your back with a flawless handling of your waist and legs, making sure not to give you too much ragdoll treatment–yet. Your face naturally landed into the pillow with a muffled ‘hmph’ and just seconds later, you felt his thumbs spreading your hole out. He was admiring the view and your face grew hotter with each passing instant that you could feel his eyes lingering there.

“Do you mind–”

“Hush up, f’me. Let me enjoy this fully–it’s not every day that I get to fuck virgins so I’m trying to make you last.”

You let out a lengthy groan into the fabric before speaking again, “Why can’t you just fuck my brains out already..that is your job. Not to tease me until I can’t take it anymore..” “Oh, trust me, sweetie,” All matter-of-factly, he leaned down to nip and bite at the exposed skin of your shoulder, moving to lick a stripe from your tailbone, all the way up until he placed another loving set of teeth marks at the nape of your neck. “If that was enough to make you finish quick as you did–you wouldn’t be able to handle all that. I’m doing this for your sake, so try and sound a bit more grateful.”

Whatever bratty remark you had to give afterward was silenced by the sound and feeling of a fat wad of his saliva coming into contact with your puckered entrance. A mild shiver and you could’ve sworn that the tips of your ears were redder than ever. It also didn’t help the fact that he began that languid stroking of his angry cockhead all along the crevice that he’d spread out so gracefully and politely.

Throaty grunts–some fading into soft, almost tender moans–fell on your ears in an increasing succession. It was enough to drive anyone far up the wall. Especially when he’d already given you such a clear-cut example and beautiful snippet of what was to come.

Almost on their own, your hips began to bounce back on him in the slight of chasing more of the friction that was your only–inadequate–sense of relief. “Aww, ‘s the matter, pretty boy?” Once again, that patronizing coo of his pet name stole a whimpered complaint from your mouth. It felt mostly on deaf ears with your face being so submerged into the plush. “Doesn’t this feel soo nice? Hm? Remember what we talked about..”

“I-it does..it feels..hah, amazing…” You’d meekly reply.

He cocked his head to the side, angling an eyebrow at you before planting an arm squarely beside your face, then using his free hand to guide your eyes up to his. “Buttt..”

“I told you..” It was then that Satoru got to see the true effect of all his ruthless teasing–you were already tearing up. His snow blues widened at the sight of the mild wetness that had begun to spring from your eyes and stain your cheeks. “..‘S not enough..I’m burning inside and you’re being fucking..mean.”

Oh, but how could he not?

The entire night, you’d been casting glances, slipping words under your breath and essentially leading him all the way on. It was–one of–the more irritating ‘jobs’ that he’d ever gotten but after having a taste of you..? Seeing how those pouty expressions became twisted and eventually fell away once you really started to feel it..how could he resist..?

“Ah, I see now..” he drawled, lining himself up once again. Luminous depths all muddled with lust and something just simply carnal lurking behind them, his breath hitched and so did yours when he slipped the tip in. As much as you wanted to recoil, he held your face there, clawed nails softly digging into your cheeks. Mouth hung open above yours, his lips just ghosted with the heat of his every exhale. “I’m sorry, baby..you must be in agony, huh..? You’ve already had such a bad night..”

Inch by inch, he watched with hawk-eyes the gradual descension of your facial expression–so needy, so fucking pathetic–alll because of him.

Oh, that was just the half of it.

From this angle, this position..fuck was he reaching deep. Deeper than before it felt–and even then, he didn’t stop until he was fit so snugly inside. “S-shit..might get fuckin’ addicted to this,” he huffed once again, then pressing his sweat-riddled chest against your fluttering spine. “Let me help you forget about all your problems..you deserve it. Just lie there, look good, and take everything I have to offer..”

With that low mutter, he sealed your lips together and kicked up his rhythm–obscene and just downright filthy sounds coming from the connection between the two of you. Instead of the grind he’d grown and nurtured beforehand, his hips were slamming into you, making that harsh slap each time that his pelvis pressed up against the fat of your ass. It was enough to have your legs trembling just a few minutes in.

Over and over and over, just fucking pounding you in. Your moans and gasps for air were all swallowed up into his slick maw as he dominated the kiss with ease. His tongue was mapping out each crevice of your mouth. As much as you thought he tasted sweet enough to make your dentist fly into a fury–he thought you tasted fucking divine.

“God-damn, holy–keep it arched like this..just like..ahh…” He began to roll his head back but just as he did, your hand came up, tugging him back down over you by one of his horns. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea. A brief widening of his eyes and he was now hooking his big hands into the junctures of either of your hips, pulling you back with a harsh tug that made the precision of his thrusts seem all the more brutal.

One hand firmly clasped on the protrusion of his head, ever-adjusting, another scrunching up your poor pillow as yet another round of tremors rang out through your spine. Your lips were fallen open in such a blissed out way that all manners of sounds were coming from there. Ranging from, “Right there..! R-right fuckin’ ohhh..!” to strings of, “S-slow– mhn..! Can’t take..haah..” It was so endearing how you couldn’t even properly place what exactly it was that you really wanted.

Slithering a hand from its holster, he wrapped around, once again laying his chest on top of you but this time sinking his weight down into you in a way that made your body tense and you could’ve sworn you heard the zip! Signaling a short circuit in your brain when your prostate was dug into sooo fucking deliciously.

What definitely wasn’t helping were the fingers that had found your sorely forgotten shaft–left to leak endless strings of pre down onto your sheets as you were dicked down into them. Methodically twisting his wrist on the upstroke, he eventually noticed how your ass was rutting back against him, encouraging him to continue his relentless pursuit. “I can’t..hngh..make you out…” heavily panting, he began to leave the back of your neck and shoulders branded with the map of his sharp canines and incisors.

Another one of those hearty chuckles, just a little less throaty and more breathless than anything and he was kissing up along your shoulders. “You’re really something, y’know.”

“..‘Toru...”

“Yess, handsome?” That purr was enough to make you flush, maybe even a bit more than how he was literally jerking you off while keeping at a standstill inside.

Pulling your face up and out of the small huddle you’d made amongst your arms, you gave him that glossy-eyed look. Oh you felt him throb. “I’m..getting close again…”

“Oh yeah? Aaand..you’re getting close to..what, exactly?” Even now, he wasn’t letting up on his teasing, sliding his fist up to create a lewd squelching sound along your weeping tip. A careening moan stopped what you were going to say next but it was so cute to hear you struggle to form the most basic of sentences.

“..Fuck.. ‘m gonna cum..”

“Already?”

His response made your cheeks stain with crimson once more as you then coyly nodded along. “I want you to..cum with me…You didn’t before.”

God.

Maybe he was just turned on or maybe it was his heart melting, but that ignited something inside of Satoru that he couldn’t explain. All that you knew was that he was practically smothering you now, big, strong arms gathered around your head as he buried his face into the crook of your neck–fucking ramming his cock deeper and deeper with all due haste.

Your fingers came up to scratch at his biceps, clawing at the skin there as your voice grew louder and louder, more and more strained and finally being dulled out by the pillow whilst you were sent barreling over the edge. Incoherencies flowing from your mouth like a fountain–akin to how your dick was pumping out rope after rope of burning release onto the sheets. It didn’t help that even when your body grew rigid and you were shuddering through your climax–he kept going.

“Fuck, fuck, fuuuck..” Chanting over and over, each weighted slap of his balls up against your sore taint was plowing you through your already-powerful orgasm and straight into overstimulation. He would’ve been more gentle, would’ve stopped and maybe rubbed the rest out after you came but the way your hole was fucking clinging to him–as if begging him to stay–he knew that was a lost cause.

His breathing faltered, got caught in his throat a few times before he was whining in your ear. It was hard to make sense of, given your deliriousness and the fog that was beginning to mar your psyche but something along the lines of, “My name, f-fucking say my name..” he pleaded. “Wanna let this..whole fuckin’ neighborhood know who’s the first..who’s the best fuck you’ll ever have.”

In a blind state of compliance, you tried your hardest to follow his command.

“Satoru–”

“Fucking wrong.” He bit.

Trying again, you rolled your neck off to the side, resting your cheek down into his forearm as you helplessly mewled underneath him. So close already, his cock was pulsing inside of you with each rapidfire, short stroke he made. “Jesus fuckin’--ahh..! ‘Toru, ‘Toru..oh my fuck, ‘Toru..!” With how syrupy sweet his name sounded on your lips, it was no surprise at all when you felt the first spurts of cum begin to paint your insides when you said it.

‘Toru, Toru, Toru’ over and over--he rode out every last second of his climax with deep, guttural groans of your name, essentially returning the favor a bit. By this point, your mind was already swamped with pleasure that had long since had your eyes simply rolling. That burn had begun to dim down and it seemed as though he was spent as well–for the most part.

Basking in that pretty afterglow, he finally let some of his weight stop pinning you down to the mattress and opted for leisurely laying on top of you. “Hey, not too bad at all for a first timer.” like a switch was flipped, he was right back to his casual, smug demeanor. Still out of breath but steadily regaining his senses, he brushed back a few strands from your face before letting his softening shaft slip out. Teasing the tip a bit before the pop! rang out, almost immediately his load started to drip down your thighs.

Only then did you let your hips sink back down with an unceremonious fall.

He glanced over the sight with rapt attention–he couldn’t help but glide his fingers through the mess he’d made of you. You felt a small shiver run up your spine when he did, lifting your head up and off of the pillow just enough to look back at him through your tousled locks. “Seriously, Satoru?”

“Aww, what? I liked it when I was ‘Toru’.” He’d whined with a feigned look of dejection.

Rolling your eyes, you turned over on your back and to your surprise–the mark was gone. “Hey, where did–”

“It’s temporary,” Cutting you off just a bit, he smiled. “I came inside, I helped you out, anddd..my job is done.”

Slowly but surely, you watched all of his otherworldly features begin to retreat–his horns disappearing back into his hair, wings folding up and sliding back into place inside his shoulder blades. It looked..painful, but he hadn’t really flinched.

“Does that not..hurt at all..?” You inquired, gesturing toward the clear expanse of skin where his horns had been before.

All he did was shrug it off, bringing a hand up to his neck as he scratched the back of it lightly. “Huh..? Ah, I guess not. It’s sort of like..when humans naturally lose teeth. Orrr, growing and cutting off nails.”

“Kinda gross.”

“You didn’t seem to find any part of me gross a few moments ago,” Swinging his long legs off to the side of the bed, he leaned down to tug his pants back on, keeping his belt messily undone. In another moment, he stalked over to your bathroom and you sat up a bit straighter, pulling your legs into yourself a bit. Your face fell as you thought it was simply over just like that. Well, until he came back with a towel from the cabinet. “Humans are so odd. Keeping towels in such places–they go on racks.” he’d grumbled as he made his way over to you.

Stepping back into frame, he saw the way your face was just a few seconds away from tearing up. “What’s the matter? Don’t tell me you’re hurt somewhere..” his features fell somber as he cupped your face, tilting it upward to look back at him.

“N-no it’s..nothing.”

He gave a harsh scoff and once again pulled that smug smirk. “Uhuh. ‘Nothing’ my sweet ass. Talk to me, pretty boy.”

“I just thought..you’d stay a while longer.” Your eyes sideswiped away from his and all Satoru could do was smile even harder, dragging your face to his lips. Peppering kisses wherever his mouth could reach, you soon felt your face growing hotter. “Fuck–quit it..! What’s up with you-?”

Once again, another burst of laughter and he tugged away, unfurling the towel and wiping down all of your sullied limbs and taking extra time to tend to where he’d been paying the most attention beforehand. Knelt in front of you, cleaning off your inner thighs, he was humming lowly to himself. Your fingers carded through his white head of hair enough for him to look up at you with a raised eyebrow. “Is this the part where you say ‘I love you’ and you ask me to stay the night?”

“You ruined the moment, so..I’ll skip over the first part and just say thanks for helping me not be an adult virgin anymore.” You remarked with a small flick of his forehead.

Shrugging, he chimed back, “So I can still stay over?”

“Of course–my couch is always open for freeloaders.”

That was enough for him to know where he stood and get back to cleaning up his mess.

A/N: Kind of my debut into this scene..! You lot showed so much love to the mlist alone! I hope I characterized my precious ‘Toru’ well, I took inspiration. More on the way—enjoy the first commandment. 🧧

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astral-aromance-reblogs · 1 day ago

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But the thing is, intent DOES change a lot. There is a reason murder and manslaughter are distinctive crimes that carry distinctive sentences in court. The reason the 2nd and 3rd Kinslaying are seen as worse is not because the number of victims or who those victims were; it's because they set out with a plan to kill for the Silmaril, and were fully prepared for an all-out assault. In Alqualondë the plan was to ask to borrow those ships, which, of course, the Telerin elves had all rights to refuse. (I often do wonder that had this request not been denied if the burning would have happened at all, but that's another question) The host of Fëanor then attemped to seize the ships, to which the Teleri responded in their defence with either pushing or shooting arrows, from there the conflict became the first Kinslaying. And this wasn't an unfair fight until the host of Fingon showed up either, seeing as how the Noldor were pushed back repeatedly. There is no excuse for the ship burning, and everyone knows there isn't, but Fingolfin did not HAVE to cross the ice; that wasn't Fëanor's doing, it was a choice they made.

And indeed, Fëanor swore the Oath and his words made people want to leave Aman, but Fëanor killed not a single child, nor did he leave them to starve, he didn't kill in Doriath, he didn't kill in Sirion, he didn't usurp Finrod, he didn't even throw anyone off a cliff, nor did he force anyone into an unwanted marriage, he didn't kill his wife while attempting to kill his son. A lot of harm was linked to his actions, but you can't hold him responsible for it either, he had been dead for nearly 500 years at that point. He may have started it off, but he did so unkowingly and unwillingly. And to counter the argument; didn't Fëanor's actions also lead to the Long Peace when his sons kept Morgoth from assaulting those living in Beleriand? Didn't his choices and deeds ultimately lead to the ultimate destruction of Morgoth? These are also things that all happened because of him and the oath, albeit unknowingly.

As for the exile, it is very clearly stated in the text that Nerdanel stayed of her own choice and pride, and that the SoF chose to go with their father, he didn't force them to go with him. Again with the oath-taking, they chose to swear it. He COULD have made Nerdanel to join them to Formenos, to Beleriand, to taking the oath, but he didn't do that, which indicates that he would have let his sons stay had they so wished.

The point of this post is not about minimizing the crimes he DID commit, it is about acknowledging the crimes he that DIDN'T.

The point is; he wasn't the Most Evil Elf, as the fandom often paints him to be. Nowhere do I say he wasn't bad. As for the altered state of mind, I was not just refering to the grief over his father, but also to the poisoning done by Morgoth. Without Morgoth it is likely that Fingolfin would have never been threatened in the first place, which was really the beginning of the end.

So yes, Fëanor is prideful to a fault, (but so was his brother) vengeful, (but so was Turgon) paranoid, (so was Thingol) obsessive (like every other Noldo), and abrasive (so was Caranthir). But he is nothing that others are not also. THAT is the point.

The REAL contenders for the Worst Elf are Ëol, Maeglin, Curufin, Celegorm, possibly even Maedhros and Maglor, but those named later had at least a divine curse and a driving oath, or relentless torture by Morgoth upon them.

Something I find interesting is that Fëanor's deeds specifically are really blown out of proportion... many fanworks portray him as some bloodthirsty monster that killed everything, and everyone who stood against him. But... that's not actually true at all, is it? The only time he killed was at Alqualondë, and even then, it was something that happened out of an escalated conflict. It wasn't something Fëanor had planned out or even thought of beforehand. His other, non-boat-related crimes? Pointing a sword at his brother. That's it. Unless you count being angry for the injustice done to him and his mother, yelling at people, and refusing to kill yourself because someone asked as crimes.

Like I'm sure he wasn't a pleasant person to be around in his final years of life, and his actions did cause great harm. But damn if it isn't blown out of proportion. Yes, the oath was awful, but Fëanor was delirious with grief, and, if we are to believe his children, borderline suicidal. He wasn't thinking about what his words would mean for others, he never meant to hurt anyone but Morgoth. How did that give him the rep of being The Most Evil Elf Ever?

Also, who came up with the idea that Fëanor or his sons killed children during the kinslayings? There is 0 evidence for that. And yes, I know about E&E¹, but none of them did that.

#feanorians #meta-ish #silmarillion #this is not about morality of actions #this is about what he did and didn't do #if you add it all up he just doesn't get to be the best at something for once #sorry feanor you lost at the Most Evil Elf contest #you tried i guess #point is for all the shit the fandom gives him he should have been worse lol

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fanficlolsblog · 2 days ago

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UNHEALTHY OBSSESION

back to my main masterlist

pairing: yandere!jenna ortega x reader

summary: after a brief encounter with jenna ortega at a meet-and-greet, y/n is surprised to receive a follow request and a message from her. what starts as a seemingly innocent exchange soon spirals into a possessive obsession, with jenna constantly messaging, showing up unannounced, and isolating y/n from friends. as y/n tries to distance themselves, jenna’s behavior grows darker, her obsession tightening like a trap, until y/n realizes that escaping her hold might be impossible.

warnings: obsessive behaviour, stalking, emotional manipulation, psychological distress.

w/c: 1k+

you never thought much of celebrities. sure, you admired them from a distance, but you always told yourself they were just people, just names you’d heard. so when your friend dragged you to jenna ortega’s meet-and-greet, you felt out of place. she was beautiful, magnetic, but she was just a name on your friend’s lips, a face you knew from magazines.

that changed when you stepped up to meet her, the last in line. your friend had already gone ahead, gushing over the quick selfies she’d taken with jenna. you tried to keep your cool, gave her a polite smile, kept your distance. but when jenna looked at you, it was as if the whole room went silent. her gaze lingered, a little longer than it should, and you saw her eyebrows lift, just slightly.

“you seem… different,” she said, her voice soft, almost a murmur meant just for you.

you laughed nervously, shrugged it off. she held your gaze, eyes searching yours like she was trying to memorize your face. the brief exchange left you feeling strange—giddy but unsettled. it was probably nothing. you left, pushing the moment out of your mind as you rejoined your friend.

but that night, as you lay in bed, your phone buzzed. you glanced at it, frowning. a follow request on instagram—from jenna ortega.

your heart skipped. it had to be a joke, right? or maybe her team managing her account? but you hit accept, curiosity outweighing logic. almost immediately, a message popped up.

jenna: hi, y/n. i hope it’s okay i reached out. i… couldn’t stop thinking about you.

you blinked, staring at the message. it felt surreal, like a scene out of a movie. you hesitated, then typed a casual reply, something light, just to see if she was serious.

you: i didn’t expect you’d remember me.

jenna: i remember a lot about you.

from there, the messages kept coming. every day, multiple times a day, jenna reached out, asking about your life, your interests. she was kind, thoughtful, curious. her questions were endless—what was your favorite color? your favorite food? did you like to read? what was your dream vacation? the messages were warm, personal, and slowly, you felt yourself getting drawn in, almost hypnotized by her attention.

but things began to shift. her messages came faster, more insistent, like she needed to know where you were, who you were with. if you took too long to respond, she’d send another message.

jenna: you’re not ignoring me, are you?

you tried to laugh it off, tell yourself she was just lonely, maybe a little over-enthusiastic. but one evening, while you were out with friends, your phone buzzed.

jenna: i thought we agreed you’d tell me when you went out.

you frowned, fingers hovering over the screen. you hadn’t agreed to anything like that. but before you could type a response, another message popped up.

jenna: you don’t understand how much i care about you. you have no idea what it’s like, thinking about you all the time.

you typed a careful reply, trying to brush it off as a misunderstanding. but it was hard to ignore the chill creeping down your spine. things were moving too fast. she was everywhere—your notifications filled with her likes, your friends disappearing one by one, as if she’d somehow driven them away without a word.

then, one night, she showed up.

you were at your favorite coffee shop, the one you’d casually mentioned to her in passing, and she walked in like she belonged there. she didn’t look surprised to see you; if anything, she seemed pleased. she took the seat across from you, leaning forward, her fingers brushing against yours as she murmured, “i just wanted to see you.”

you tried to smile, tried to pretend it didn’t unnerve you, but her stare was intense, unblinking. she looked at you like you were the only person in the world, her fingers tapping idly on the table as she asked you about your day. every detail, every minute, like she needed to know it all.

from that day on, she’d show up without warning, always knowing where you’d be. and when you tried to confront her, her expression would shift—soft, almost hurt, like you’d wounded her.

“why are you acting like this, y/n?” she’d ask, voice trembling just slightly. “i’m just trying to keep you safe. you don’t understand how much you mean to me.”

you’d try to explain, tell her it was too much, but she’d look at you with those deep, unflinching eyes, and somehow, you’d find yourself apologizing, as if you were the one overreacting.

then came the gifts. small, thoughtful things at first—a book you’d mentioned, a necklace in your favorite color. but one night, you came home to find a box on your doorstep. inside was a single rose, delicate and freshly cut, and a handwritten note.

you have no idea what i’d do to keep you close, y/n. don’t push me away.

you tried to distance yourself, but jenna’s grip was tight, suffocating. she flooded your phone with messages, each one more desperate than the last, her words dripping with both devotion and a hint of menace. you stopped posting on social media, hoping it’d make her lose interest, but instead, she started showing up more often, as if your silence made her crave you more.

one night, you couldn’t take it anymore. you told her, face-to-face, that you needed space. she laughed, a soft, unsettling sound, her fingers tracing invisible patterns on the table between you.

“space?” she repeated, her voice laced with disbelief. “y/n, you’re all i think about. i go to sleep thinking of you, wake up dreaming of you. don’t you see? no one will ever care about you like i do.”

you swallowed, trying to hold her gaze without flinching. “jenna, this isn’t… normal.”

she tilted her head, her smile fading. “maybe normal doesn’t matter,” she whispered, her voice chillingly calm. “maybe it’s just you and me, and maybe that’s all that’s ever mattered.”

you stood up to leave, feeling her eyes follow you, the weight of her stare burning into your back. as you walked away, you heard her say, quietly but clear enough to make your blood run cold:

“you’ll come back to me, y/n. you always do.”

and as you stepped outside, feeling the night air prickle against your skin, you knew she wasn’t finished with you. this wouldn’t be the end.

#jenna ortega #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x fem!reader #imagine #gxg #wlw #fanfic

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perseephoneee · 3 days ago

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secret santa [ficmas day 12] [stiles stilinski x afab!reader]

↳ masterlist ↳ ship exchange ↳ taglist ↳ ficmas 2024

@mayfieldss: Since you're extending ficmas may I request stiles stilinski and secret santa plssssss

author's note: my boyfriend said that if teen wolf had modern slang it would be one of the worst things he'd ever watch

playlist:

buy me presents -- sabrina carpenter

christmas caller -- beach bunny

santa, can't you hear me -- kelly clarkson & ariana grande

"Why did Lydia think this was a good idea?" Stiles groaned, opening the 'Secret Santa email.' Scott was sitting on his bed doing homework while Stiles debated the merits of ignoring the email.

"Because she says this is cheaper than us all having to get gifts for each other."

Stiles ignored that comment and opened the email to receive his assignment. He could think of a few different ideas for the various people in his life. Scott was easy; they were best friends. Isaac could get an embroidered scarf that said, 'I'm bitter for no reason.' Derek could get a new personality, although Stiles didn't know how much that would cost.

He watched the wheel spin on the automated Secret Santa email, and against his best wishes, he got your name.

"No, no, no," Stiles kept trying to refresh the page, hoping for a different answer. Scott looked up in personality, getting off the bed to see his screen. He started laughing when he saw your name.

"You're screwed."

"This is awful!" Stiles spun around in his chair. "I can't get the girl I like a gift; she's going to hate it."

"Probably."

"Has anyone ever told you that you're not helpful?" Stiles looked at Scott, raising his brow. Scott patted him on the shoulder. Stiles hit his shoulder, and it quickly devolved into a wrestling match with Stiles in a headlock and Scott getting kicked in the face. Sheriff Stilinski entered a second later. He took one look at the scene and left a second later.

After Stiles lost in wrestling, they ended up at the mall. They agreed that it was the most likely place to find a gift. Scott had to shop for Isaac, which Stiles was weirdly envying at this moment.

"Okay, we're going to split up. Meet in an hour at the food court."

"For food?"

"Yes," Stiles sighed. "And to check progress."

"But also for food?" Scott questioned. "I've been craving a corndog."

"Scott, I need you to lock in," Stiles groaned. He had been staring out at the bright expanse of the mall and was already developing a migraine. "We have a mission."

"You have a mission," Scott nudged Stiles with his shoulder. "I'm doing fine."

"I really hate you," Stiles muttered as Scott took off towards whatever he smelled. Likely a pretzel. He was strangely food-motivated.

Stiles checked out Bath and Body Works first, but after feeling like he would pass out from the smells, he elected to leave. He wandered into a Brandy Melville and got offended by the sizing (or lack thereof). He then sat on a bench outside the darkest clothing store he'd ever seen. Just as Stiles wished for divine intervention, Lydia came into sight. She beelined over to him immediately.

"Do I want to know why you're here?" she asked, arms crossed. Stiles squinted up at her.

"Because of your stupid Secret Santa and my stupid assignment," Stiles said, sinking further into his bench. Lydia sat down next to him.

"You got Y/N, didn't you?"

"How–"

"I know things," Lydia pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. Stiles glared at her. She crossed her legs, looking over at Stiles. "I'm going to help you because you make me sad."

"Thanks."

"What have you thought of so far?"

Stiles pondered for a second.

"A sexy candle."

"Okay, I'm going to say no to that immediately," Lydia opened her purse, grabbed out a lipgloss, and reapplied it. Stiles had no idea why she needed to reapply it. "Let's go look around at a few places."

Stiles wished for Scott in that moment. Scott didn't stress him out to no end. Lydia dragged him to eleven different stores and shot down almost all of his ideas. He was ready to quit, move to a different state, and change his name in order to avoid disappointing you at Secret Santa. You were too important to him to disappoint. Right as Stiles' legs started hurting, he saw one store that gave him pause.

"I'm going in there," Stiles announced, ignoring Lydia's protests. It was a traditional gift store with various accessories, gag gifts, home decor, and more. He avoided the seasonal aisle and the stupid kitchen towels with quotes on them to make a beeline for the kids' section, specifically the stuffed animal section.

He saw a floppy Snoopy and pulled it off the top shelf. Stiles showed Lydia.

"What do you think?" Stiles asked. He was out of breath from his quick run into the store. "She loves Snoopy; she mentions it whenever there's a Snoopy thing."

Lydia smiled, taking the Snoopy from him. She gave it a few squishes for good measure.

"It's perfect; nice job, Stiles."

"Thank you," Stiles beamed. He tossed the Snoopy back and forth between his hands. "Who did you get for Secret Santa?"

"Derek."

"Just get him a new personality."

"I hope you know that both you and Y/N said that," Lydia rolled her eyes. Stiles grinned, moving to the cash register to buy his Snoopy. He paid a little extra to get it wrapped (he can't wrap it for his life) and skipped out of the store. Stiles pulled out his phone to check the time, guessing he should probably be catching back up with Scott. He, of course, ran into you at that exact moment.

Literally ran into it.

"Hey, Stiles," you laughed, catching him by the shoulders. His cheeks burned red as he saw who it was.

"Hey!" he grimaced. "What are you doing here?"

"Probably the same as you, Secret Santa shopping," you shrugged. He liked whatever you did with your hair today. However, Stiles has always loved whatever you did. You eyed the bag in his hand. "Did you get something already?"

"Yeah…I had help from Lydia," Stiles scratched the back of his neck.

"I'll see you around, Stilinski," you punched his shoulder, running off to who knows where. Stiles was still frozen in place a second later. He shook himself out of his stupor, immediately running to the food court to look for Scott.

Scott and Stiles showed up in matching ugly Christmas sweaters to Lydia's Secret Santa party. They were very proud that they found not one but two of them at Goodwill and felt it was a theme to show up in. Lydia was not amused.

She almost refused to let them in.

Stiles was excited to see that you were already there. You had on sparkly tights and a sweater dress, and Stiles was once again struck by the thought that you were the prettiest girl in the room. He suddenly felt very stupid in his sweater. You took notice as he approached.

"Oh, that's hilarious," you laughed, reading his top. It had all the reindeer decorating the tree on top of each other, saying 'Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, on top of Vixen.'

"That's what I thought. Lydia disagrees," Stiles sat down next to you. You curled up your legs underneath you.

"Lydia is stressed about the party."

"She throws the best parties; why is she stressed?" Stiles saw a platter of cookies out on the coffee table and took one for himself. He offered you half.

"Probably because you have to constantly be stressed to throw the best parties." You accepted half of his cookie.

"Touche."

Stiles was gleeful that he could talk to you until the present reveals started. Everyone else showed up, and at forty-five minutes past the hour, Lydia called everyone to attention to exchange gifts. Suddenly, Stiles felt very nervous.

It was easy for him to get caught up in everyone else's excitement and forget about his own doom, so when he received his gift (some nice plaid shirts from Allison), he got all clammy as he handed you yours. Your eyes lit up as you saw the bag.

"I knew it was for me," you whispered, recognizing the bag from the mall. Stiles shrugged, wringing his hands. You unwrapped it carefully and then let out a squeal of delight as you saw the Snoopy. Stiles let out a sigh of relief.

"I know you love Snoopy."

"Not just any Snoopy, Joe Cool Snoopy," you grinned, hugging the plush to your chest. "He's really cool."

"That's why they call him Joe Cool," Stiles answered. Lydia gave him a subtle nod from the other side of the room. Everyone else got to open their gifts, which is when Lydia brought out the champagne she stole from her Mom's stash. Very quickly, everyone got a pleasant buzz that only made the conversation louder. You nudged Stiles and gestured towards the kitchen, Snoopy still in hand. He followed after you.

You launched yourself at him as soon as you got in the kitchen.

"The gift is perfect," you mumbled, voice blocked by his shirt. Stiles thought you smelled like peppermint. You pulled away to look at him. "Thank you."

"A-Anything for you," Stiles stuttered, struck by how close you guys were. You didn't seem to notice or mind.

"I have a gift for you."

"You didn't get me in Secret Santa," Stiles asked, confused. You just shook your head.

"A gift of my own volition."

You leaned up and kissed him, lips still tasting of champagne. Stiles could do nothing but melt into you. He was dumbstruck when you parted.

"Merry Christmas, Stiles," you hummed. Stiles grinned, kissing you again.

"Merry Christmas, Y/N."

#stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski x reader #dylan obrien #dylan obrien x reader #teen wolf #teen wolf fics #my writing #ficmas #ficmas 2024

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seokmthw · 2 days ago

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the good side | kim jiwoong

⇢ pairing: jiwoong x reader

⇢ warnings: harry potter au, slytherin!jiwoong, hufflepuff!reader, fluff, angst, all characters are adults, implied afab reader but still gender neutral terms, pretty hot & heavy makeout scene, mentions of sex (nothing explicitly written out, but i'd prefer minors not interact), jiwoong acts kinda like draco malfoy

⇢ synopsis: a slytherin and a hufflepuff are an unlikely pairing, but somehow you found each other into the late hours of the night, keeping each other company and developing feelings you eventually have to face.

⇢ word count: 5k

⇢ note: my harry potter hyperfixation is coming back and this is entirely self indulgent, but i hope you all enjoy too!

there was an excited buzz filling up the great hall as you stood by its entrance with the other batch of anxious first years, awaiting to go in and be sorted. you weren't sure where you would end up, but you really didn't care – so long as you got along with your classmates and you were able to find friends that were genuine. you twiddled with the sleeves of your robes, feeling your heart lurch in your chest as the large doors finally opened with a loud squeak, announcing your arrival to the hundreds of other hogwarts students inside.

all eyes were on your group as you walked down the aisle and up to the front, where the stool was sat just up a few stairs and professor mcgonagall was holding the sorting hat in all of its tattered glory. you made small talk with a girl you'd slowly become friends with as you watched the first person clumsily clamber up the stairs and have the hat placed on its head.

your eyes kept scanning the area surround you, and you'd locked gazes with kim jiwoong, who had made his presence known and commanded the attention of everyone on the train earlier that day. you'd heard a lot about him from the whispering voices, about how he was incredibly hateful and always barking orders to people around him, but didn't care to listen to other people’s perceptions of him. his eyes bore into yours, but it didn't feel scary, as other people had described him – he was almost unreadable. you offered him a small, genuine smile, and you swore you saw him flash one back at you, but it was gone as quickly as it came, replaced with his usual scowl as he was called up to be sorted.

you watched as he sat down, and the sorting hat was placed on his head for less than thirty seconds before it was bellowing out “slytherin!” and a look of pride had washed over the dark haired boy before he went and sat down with the table of older students who were cheering for him.

you watched as people continued to be called and sorted, anxiously awaiting for your name. and soon, there it was, and you were leaving your friend behind and nervously sitting down on the stool. professor mcgonagall smiled at you, her eyes turning into crescents before she set the hat atop your head. it almost felt like all the voices around you were drowned out, and you could only hear the hat as he got lost in thought, announcing everything to the rest of the crowd in front of you.

“hmm, you're a tough one, my friend. i can sense your courage and bravery, your willingness to stand up not only for yourself but for the people you love…” his voice trailed off as he thought some more, the table of gryffindors growing antsy with anticipation for you to be sorted into their house.

“ah! but wait, i can feel something deeper. you're gentle and kind, loyal to your friends, and you have a pure heart. one that shouldn't be tinkered around with. this feeling is growing stronger within me, and i think i have made my decision.”

he grew silent for a moment and it felt like the chatter of the room had gone away completely. every second that passed by was agonizing and you wanted so badly to just be off that stool and away from the burning eyes of the student body.

finally, he bellowed, “you'll be best in hufflepuff!”

a roar of cheers erupted from the students dressed in yellow and black and they graciously welcomed you to their table. amongst the sea of people, you caught the gaze of jiwoong once again, this time a knowing look on his face.

almost as if he'd known this is where you'd be.

ii.

your time at hogwarts felt like they were flying by – you were in a constant state of honing your magic skills, studying for exams and finding the time for recreational activities. before you knew it, you were in your fifth year, and you were under the tyranny of dolores umbridge and her constant nitpicking at each and every little thing the student body did.

it was exhausting.

you found yourself sneaking out of the castle late at night after finishing your studies, careful not to get caught, and sitting by the black lake, watching as the stars glittered beautifully in the sky and moon reflected off the still water before you. it was peaceful, and you found solace in getting away from the hustle and bustle you'd been surrounded by for so long.

which is where you were tonight, where it was chilly, and you were wrapped up in a cardigan and sighing in contentedness, your breath clouding before you as you did so. you closed your eyes, relishing in the feeling you had, until a cool, quiet voice drew you away from your thoughts and back into the present.

“i didnt think you would be one to sneak out of the castle.”

you opened your eyes to be greeted with the sight of jiwoong in front of you, one of your eyebrows quirking up in confusion, “i suppose this is why we shouldn't always judge people based upon our first impressions of them.”

jiwoong gave you a curt nod, motioning at the spot on the ground next to you, “care if i join you?”

“not at all,” was your reply.

you kept your eyes trained on the lake, feeling the chill in the air fight to cut through your cardigan and to your skin beneath it. there was an oddly comfortable silence between the two of you, both just taking in your surroundings and letting the stress of the first few months of fifth year wash away from you.

but the silence didn't last for long because jiwoong was opening his mouth again, asking you, “i’ve seen you come out here a lot, why? what's so special about it?”

you turned to look at him, taking note of how attractive he actually was up close. his dark hair was parted in the middle, exposing just enough of his forehead, the moonlight was caught in it almost perfectly. his slender nose and sharp features really stood out to you amongst the darkness, and you studied him for a moment before you finally said, “it's just nice to have a break from all the ruckus and commotion every once in a while,” you met your eyes with his now, “i could ask you the same.”

“i-” he began, but he shook his head, his intense stare now focused on the frost-covered ground below the both of you, “nevermind, it's stupid.”

you were sure what overcame you, but you reached out to him, resting a hand in his knee as you said, “nothing you feel is ever stupid, you know.”

at your words, jiwoong’s gaze softened, and you felt like he was showing you a side of him nobody else has seen before. he seemed to be fighting something internally, and finally, his shoulders slumped in defeat as he quietly said, “sometimes it's nice to not have to put on a front, not always uphold this reputation i've built for myself.”

“i get it,” you offered him a genuine smile. you began to stand up, shaking a few blades of grass from your pants. you looked at jiwoong once again, who was still sat in his spot, and said, “if you ever feel like you need a break from it all, you're always welcome to join me out here. there will never be any judgement.”

“thank you, y/n,” his words were sincere.

you gave a small smile to him, nodding in acknowledgment, “goodnight, jiwoong.”

–––––

jiwoong had taken you up on your offer more than you ever anticipated, and the both of you found yourselves enjoying the company. you'd fallen into comfortable conversation, and you'd finally gotten to know more about him, and to say you were starting to develop feelings for him was an understatement.

you couldn't help but feel giddy after every late evening spent with him, feeling a blush creep onto your cheeks whenever you finally made it back to your dorm and recounted each night in your head. beneath the surface that was kim jiwoong was someone who was kind and caring, always thoughtful. at least, that's the side of him that he showed to you.

this evening was different, though – you'd arrived later after serving a detention issued by umbridge earlier in the day. you stumbled down the small slope that led to your little tucked away spot, blood trickling down the length of your fingers and tears blurring your vision as you attempted to find him amidst the cloak of darkness the night had to offer.

jiwoong's usually large smile was soon replaced with a frown, a look of concern washing over his features upon seeing the state you were in, and anger dancing in his eyes the moment he took notice of your crimson coated hand. he reached out, helping you sit down, and trying his best to get you to look at him, but to no avail. you were so ashamed to be sat in front of him like this, and you almost wished you didn't even come to sit with him.

he didn't pry, though. instead, he sat there with you, the only thing filling the silence being the faint chirp of the crickets and your sniffles as you continued to cry. he reached out, grabbing your hand with his gently, and you felt your heart flutter at the gesture. he wiped away the blood with the sleeve of his robe, revealing a sentence etched deeply into your flesh.

i will not talk back.

this is when he finally broke the silence, his voice quiet, but frustration and anger laced in each and every word he spoke, “what the hell did that woman do to you?”

“made me write dozens of sentences with my own blood,” you laughed scornfully, wiping away at the tears that continued to stream down your face with your unoccupied hand.

“she's lucky i don't hex her,” he stated, which earned a quiet chuckle from you, “i mean it, y/n, i don't understand how someone can be this cruel to you.”

“just the way the world works, i suppose.”

you finally looked up at him, your glossy eyes nearly making the slytherin’s heart break right then and there. if there was anything he never wanted to see again, it was you crying. he reached out and swiped his thumb beneath your eyes, collecting the fresh tears that had just fallen. the look on his face was tender, and you felt your stomach doing backflips the longer his hand lingered on your face. but it was gone all too soon, and he looked you up and down, taking notice of your lack of robes on a night as cold as that one.

he slipped his overcoat off and draped it around your shoulders, ignoring all of your protests and securing you in the warmth that lingered inside of it. the fabric smelled so good, of expensive cologne, and you closed your eyes, quietly thanking him for such a kind gesture. you sat next to each other now, the silence comfortable but you felt yourself longing for his touch again.

you decided to be bold, to make a move, and rested your head on his shoulder. you didn't feel him tense up like you thought he might, the feeling in the air didn't change.

instead, he rested his head atop yours, gazes cast out to look at the moon as it glistened on the water.

iii.

your fifth year had come and gone, umbridge was finally out of hogwarts, and your feelings for jiwoong grew stronger by the day. your nights were spent getting cozier, sometimes his arm laid around your shoulder, other times your head in his lap, and occasionally your fingers intertwined with each other.

you'd delved into the conversation of how you didn't really acknowledge one another aside from sparing a few glances outside of these stolen moments at night, and you'd spent a great deal of time promising jiwoong you understood how much his reputation meant to him and that you were okay with how things were now.

since your sixth year was just starting, many of your classmates were our mingling and not returning until the very last possible moment, so jiwoong had mustered up the courage to invite you spend time with him in the slytherin dorm, which you'd accepted almost too eagerly. but your friends had peeved you greatly before you left, and you needed to get it off your chest. so there you were, sat on his bed, ranting to him about how some of your friends had made fun of you for not kissing anyone yet.

“i mean, i know it makes me a loser, but i don't just going around kissing people that mean nothing to me,” you stated, though you were growing more and more upset by the second.

jiwoong sat and listened quietly as you continued, his fingers tracing shapes on your back and a soft smile delicately tugging at the corners of his lips. once you finally stopped talking, you felt your cheeks heat up, surely fire engine red by now, and bashfully smiled, “sorry, i got a little carried away.”

“nothing to apologize for,” he softly responded, “and for the record, not having been kissed doesn't make you a loser.”

“i don't know, it feels like everyone around me has, my friends, strangers in the hall, hell, even you,” you replied.

jiwoong chuckled, his fingers still continuing their pattern, “actually, i haven't.”

your eyes widened at his confession and you began profusely apologizing, “i shouldn't have assumed, i’m so sorry. i just know you have a lot of friends and i figured -”

“y/n, it's alright,” jiwoong cut you off, amused with how flustered you had gotten. you were frustrated with yourself.

maybe it was because your friends had really gotten under your skin. maybe it was because you were sitting in jiwoong’s bed, surrounded by his smell, grazed with his touch. maybe it was because your feelings for him had grown impossibly big. you weren't sure, but you did know that you were embarrassed beyond belief.

a silence fell amongst you, and while you would normally welcome it, you couldn't help but feel like there was tension. not bad tension, though. you couldn't quite pinpoint it.

jiwoong parted his lips to speak, “you know, y/n, i think we might be able to help each other out in this situation.”

“please don't feel like you have to do that because i'm upset about it, i’ll be okay, really,” your eyes were as wide as saucers and you were fighting the urge to just get up and run back to your dorm, but you didn't.

instead, jiwoong reached his hand out to cup your cheek, his gaze almost unreadable, as he said, “i want to. if you'll let me, of course.”

you nodded, feeling your breath hitch in your throat as he inched closer, tilting his head as he closed the distance between the two of you, sealing your lips in a gentle, relieving kiss. he was warm and soft and so perfect. you snaked your arms around his neck, which granted him access to kiss you deeper, his hands finding purchase on your waist.

he finally pulled back, a grin immediately visible, and he asked, “how was that?”

you giggled, “perfect, you're perfect.”

he kissed you again, this time with a little more intent behind it, and molded your lips together. his tongue swiped at your bottom lip, begging for access, and you granted that to him, allowing him to explore your mouth. he shifted his weight, laying you down onto the mattress, your head resting on his silk covered pillows and arms still around his neck.

he kept one hand on your waist while the other propped him up as he hovered over you, the same smile on his face as he leaned down, hot breath fanning onto your ear as he mumbled, “you're the perfect one.”

his lips met with the tender skin of your neck, leaving gentle, but intentional kisses in a spot that made your head spin. your hands gripped the hair at the base of his neck and he chuckled, the vibration blooming as he worked his way to your jaw and back up to your lips, fingers toying with the hem of your shirt.

you pulled away from him, feeling slightly panicked, but he remained as calm as ever, smooth voice saying, “we don't have to do anything you don't want to.”

“it's not that, i just, i haven't…” you didn't go on to finish your sentence, because he knew what you were alluding to, and you felt relief wash over you as he whispered, “me either.”

the rest was a blur, your clothes coming off piece by piece and the soft kisses he left scattered about your body causing electricity to flow through your veins in a way you never thought it could. he was impossibly gentle, his touches feather light and his words sweet as he mumbled how beautiful you were against your skin. he kissed you through it all, making you feel so special and so cared for, and made sure your comfort was a priority.

now you were curled up into his side, one of his shirts engulfing your frame and your cheek pressed against the bare skin of his chest, listening to his heartbeat and steady breathing as the two of you laid there, basking in each other for what felt like ages. the sun was beginning to set and students would be coming in from curfew soon, so you reluctantly put your clothes back on allowed him to walk you out of the his dorm, through the common room, and back into the usual hustle and bustle of hogwarts.

“see you tomorrow?” you asked, the hopeful glint in your eyes difficult for him to miss. there was something unreadable in his expression, but it was gone as quickly as it came, and his usual soft smile he reserved for you was back.

“of course."

iv.

running late for potions was not something on your morning agenda, but here you were, sprinting through the halls in a futile attempt to make it on time. overslept and managed to get ready at a speed you never have, but since you'd started making your way there class had started. sure, it wasn't long, but it wasn't the start you wanted for your first day back at classes since having the summer off.

but your mind had been in a haze since your previous night with jiwoong and you were up late overanalyzing the look on his face that you briefly caught. you finally managed to convince yourself it was nothing, but it was mere hours before you were supposed to be awake when you finally dozed off.

you grateful to see the door to the potions classroom and even more thankful to see at least two other students hanging their heads as you walked into the room behind them. you got a scolding from professor slughorn, but you were lucky enough to scrape by without having any points taken from your house.

you slid into the first empty seat you saw, trying to tune into the lecture about the polyjuice potion, but you found yourself scanning the faces of your classmates to try and find the one you wanted, finally finding him at his potion station just a few away from you. he looked up, almost as if he could feel your gaze burning into him, and locked eyes with you all for a brief moment before he quickly turned away, cracking a joke with one of his friends.

you both did talk about the whole bit acknowledging each other that much, but you had never seen him turn away so quickly; he always at least shot a smile your way.

you blinked in confusion, but shook your head to yourself as you turned the page in your book to the recipe you needed, getting to work upon professor slughorn’s command. you somehow managed to get it perfectly on the first try, despite your mind being fuzzy, but you hoped that maybe you could talk to him later that evening about it. he was always receptive.

but your typical nightly escapade came and jiwoong was nowhere to be found. he hadn't missed a day since he first came and sat with you. your hand furiously wiped at the tears prickling at your eyes as you made your way back into the castle, heart lurching in your chest at the thought of having to go to bed without talking to him.

the next few days passed by exactly the same; he refused to look at you, avoided you in the halls, and never met you in your spot by the lake. your confused heart couldn't take much more of it, and against your better judgement one morning, you followed him amongst the sea of students when he was walking alone and grabbed his wrist, pulling him off into a secluded corridor.

he was caught off guard, but his expression turned from one of surprise to one of guilt. you did what you could to keep your voice steady, but you knew it was a matter of time before you snapped.

“why are you avoiding me?”

the silence hung thick in the air between the two of you, and jiwoong’s eyes softened when he saw the mournful expression you adorned. his mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, desperate to get the words out. his expression hardened a little bit as he said his next words, “i just have my reputation to think about.”

“you've got to be joking,” you scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest, “that hasn't stopped you from meeting me every night for the past year, and it certainly didn't keep you from kissing me or making your way into my pants.”

jiwoong’s face contorted into a scowl, and his words were harsh, “you just don't understand.”

you were taken aback; in all the time you've known him, from the very first day you saw him at the ceremony, he hasn't so much as given you that scowl, let alone spoken to you in such a tone. regret flashed across his face, but you were quick to the punch, “you know, jiwoong, i think i understand perfectly,” your voice was quivering now as you desperately tried to keep the lump in your throat down and the tears from spilling onto your cheeks, “you're just like people say they are.”

and with that, you stormed off from him, tears clouding your vision and the sob you'd held back ripping from your lungs, earning confused looks from the students you passed by, leaving jiwoong in your wake.

he never wanted to see you cry like you did after your detention with umbridge, but here he was, and he was the cause of it.

the following weeks consisted of avoiding jiwoong at all possible costs. you sat at the tables furthest from him in the classes you shared, sat at your house table in the great hall with your back facing slytherin entirely, and not even bothering to go to the lake, because you'd seen him there waiting for you, likely to try and fix the damage he had caused. but he made himself clear, and you were going to stick to that.

you were sat now in defense against the dark arts, cracking jokes with your friends in a futile attempt to feel better, and the room grew quiet when professor snape waltzed in, his usual intolerance for the chatter evident. he soon at the front of the room, voice deep and stern, as he began the lesson, “you all are in your sixth year now, and i suspect you've learnt enough in this class to be able to hold your own in a duel.”

an excited buzz filled the room; dueling was prohibited around school grounds, so this was an exciting thing to hear him say. he looked around the room once again, as if he was analyzing each student and their abilities. finally, he said, “i want y/n and jiwoong up to the front. an unlikely pairing, but both adept and skilled in this class.”

you could feel your heart sink at hearing jiwoong’s name called with yours, but you refused to let it affect you. instead, you would show him just how hurt you were, just how much his actions affected you.

jiwoong stood up hesitantly, watching you march down to the center of the room where professor snape had conjured up boundaries, and stood waiting. he reluctantly followed suit, standing across from you as professor snape went over the rules.

“wands at the ready!”

once given the cue to duel, jiwoong's expression became that of stone; you couldn't tell what he was thinking, or how he was feeling, but you couldn't find it in yourself to care. instead, you casted spells at each other relentlessly, the students surrounding you erupting in cheers at how exciting the duel was getting.

you could tell he was getting lost in thought, because he wasn't dodging as well as he could have and he was hardly sending anything back. the rest of the slytherin students began booing at him, yelling for him to get it together, and it seemed to fuel him, but it was too late.

“expelliarmus!” you shouted, knocking his wand across the room and sending his body to the ground with a thud. your chest was rising and falling rapidly as you caught your breath, wand still pointed at him, and anger glimmering in your eyes as you stared at him.

he was at a loss, and hung his head in shame as snape announced you as the winner of the duel.

––––

you don't know what, but later in the day you felt compelled to go to your spot by the lake. you'd only seen jiwoong there at night, so you were hoping to catch a break at some point in the place you missed so much. you were grateful to see it empty, and plopped down with your things as you basked in the sunlight beaming down on you.

you breathed in deeply, appreciating the fresh air after such an eventful day. but a voice drew you out, a very familiar one, and you could feel your chest begin to tighten, “i thought i might find you out here.”

you opened your eyes and looked up, catching sight of jiwoong, his hair disheveled and the bags under his eyes unmistakable. you felt a pang of sadness, but still said, “what do you want?”

“to talk, y/n,” the tone of his voice was desperate, pleading, “please.”

there was sincerity in his expression and you found yourself motioning for him to sit. you were silent, because you had nothing to say to him quite yet. you didn't even know what to say. so instead, you stared at him and took him in again, trying so desperately not to let yourself fall and crash, but it was no use.

you turned and looked at the lake so he couldn't see you already crying, but he knew you were. he reached out and touched your leg, and when you didn't shove him away, he inched a little bit closer to you.

“y/n, i am so sorry, truly i am.” his apology hung in the air and you let it sink in, but you weren't sure you were ready to accept it. you needed to let him know just how badly he broke your heart, and if he showed he cared, you'd let him back in.

between your sniffles, you inquired, “why? why did you ignore me? after that night i thought things were going to change, i mean they felt different, jiwoong i though that maybe -” you cut yourself off to prevent any words you didn't want spewing out, “never mind, it's stupid anyway.”

jiwoong took your hand in his, giving you an encouraging squeeze, “please just say it.”

“i just,” you sighed, choosing your words carefully, slowly turning head back toward him to meet his eyes, “i thought that after something like that, maybe you liked me in the way i like you. but then you just started ignoring me and not meeting me at night and i just started overth-”

jiwoong pressed a chaste kiss to your lips, the sparkle in his eyes as he smiled at you luring you into him, urging you to kiss him again, but you didn't, because he was already talking, “i wouldn't have kissed you or slept with you if i didn't have the most intense feelings for you.”

“then why?”

“because i’m not used to feeling like this for someone, and it scared me to no end,” his confession was barely above a whisper, and there were tears welling up in his eyes, “but i really, really like you, y/n. a lot. the reputation excuse was just because i was scared to admit this out loud.”

“oh, jiwoong, you never have to be scared with me, not ever,” your actions reflected his from the night of your detention, reaching out to cup his face, and striking away his tears. he nuzzled into your hand, looking appreciative that you seemed to understand, like you always did. he leaned forward, kissing you again, the saltiness of both of your tears mixing in with it, but it made it all that much better.

because everything was okay, and you had each other back.

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alia-alia12 · 3 days ago

Text

By Chance

Part 1: The Question

𖧹Gojo Satoru x Fem!reader

𖧹Fluff

𖧹1.2k

𖧹Masterlist

@ramonathinks 🫣🫣

The sharp hiss of the espresso machine and the murmur of quiet conversation filled the cozy café, creating a soothing background rhythm. Gojo Satoru stood at the counter, his bangs falling messily in front of his eyes as he waits for his usual drink—a black coffee with a splash of cream.

The day felt like any other—uneventful, calm, routine. He had slipped into the habit of coming here every afternoon, drawn by the atmosphere more than the caffeine. He enjoyed people-watching, observing life moving around him in effortless patterns.

But he didn’t expect her.

“Have you ever been in love, mister?”

The question came from a small voice by his side. He glanced down, finding a little girl with wide, curious eyes staring up at him. Her tiny hands clutched a stuffed rabbit, old and worn with love, as she waited for her mother to finish placing their order.

Her question hung In the air, innocent yet impossibly heavy.

Gojo blinked. He could’ve brushed it off with a laugh, teasing her for asking such a grown-up question—but something about the sincerity in her gaze made him pause.

Had he ever been in love?

The answer came easily, without hesitation.

“Yes,” he said softly, almost to himself. “Yes, I have.”

Before he could dwell on it further, the barista called his name. He gave the girl a small, genuine smile and nodded politely toward her mother before heading to the counter to get his order.

But as he stepped back outside, the wind tugging at his coat, the girl’s question echoed in the back of his mind.

Had he ever been in love?

He had—so much it still hurt.

His feet carried him back toward his apartment, though his thoughts stayed locked in the past. He thought about you—the one person who’d made him feel more than he thought he was capable of.

The one who held his heart so tightly… only to let it slip through her fingers.

Gojo didn’t know when he’d fallen for you, but there were certain memories that stood out more than most. Moments so vivid they felt like they had happened just yesterday.

Maybe it was the day you first met.

It was the first warm day after a long winter. He was six, dragged to the park by his grandfather, who insisted that he “get some fresh air.”

You were sitting on the edge of the playground, tying your shoelaces with a determined frown. He had noticed you right away—bright-eyed, serious, stubborn.

When your laces refused to cooperate, you huffed in frustration. Without thinking, he strolled over, hands in his pockets.

“You’re doing it all wrong,” he announced, his young voice full of certainty.

You glared up at him. “I know what I’m doing!”

He smirked but knelt down anyway, tying your laces with practiced ease. You stared in surprise, blinking as he finished.

“There,” he said smugly, standing up. “You’re welcome.”

You stared at him for a long moment before smiling—a small, genuine smile that stayed burned in his memory.

Or maybe it was the first time you held his hand.

You were both nine, walking home from school during a sudden rainstorm. His tiny, battered umbrella barely covered both of you.

“Stop hogging the umbrella,” you grumbled, bumping his shoulder.

“You’re the one walking too far away,” he shot back, holding the umbrella out farther.

The rain kept splashing around your feet until you finally huffed, grabbed his hand, and tugged him closer.

“There,” you said firmly. “Now we both fit.”

Your fingers were cold but soft, perfectly fitting in his.

He still remembered the warmth that bloomed in his chest that day, though he didn’t have the words for it back then.

It could’ve been the day he accidentally stole your first kiss.

You were thirteen, sitting on the swings at the park near your family’s bookstore. The sky was streaked with the pinks and oranges of sunset, a lazy breeze tugging at your hair.

He was teasing you about something—he could never seem to help himself—leaning in just a little too close to get under your skin.

You turned your head at the wrong moment, and suddenly—your lips brushed.

It lasted less than a second, soft and unintentional, but time seemed to freeze.

He was the first to pull away, wide-eyed and red-faced.

“S-Sorry,” he mumbled, cheeks burning hotter than the summer air.

But then—you laughed. Soft. Genuine. Beautiful.

“It’s okay,” you said, still smiling, “it was an accident.”

Satoru thought… maybe he wanted more 'accidents' like that to keep happening.

Was it the day he asked you to be his girlfriend?

It had been late summer, the air warm and still. You two of you, both 16 now, were laying on the old picnic blanket near the edge of the park, watching the clouds drift lazily across the sky.

His heart pounded in his chest, his usual confidence replaced by something far more vulnerable.

"Look," you started, pulling his attention away from your face and to the sky where you were pointing towards a random cloud. "It looks like a cat"

He squints, eyes adjusting to the bright sun. "It looks like a meatball"

You snorted. "Your imagination is broken."

A comfortable silence fell over the two of you as Satoru forced himself to say the words that have been bouncing around his head for the past few weeks.

“Hey…” he’d said softly, fingers brushing against yours. “Be my girlfriend?”

You’d turned to him, startled at first—but then you smiled, so bright and real it made his chest ache.

“Okay,” you’d whispered. “I will.”

His eyes widened. "You will?"

"Yes."

Before he could overthink it, he leaned in, his eyes fluttering shut as his lips pressed softly against yours.

He’d kissed you then—his first real kiss, soft and sure, filled with quiet promises he couldn’t put into words.

Or maybe… it was the day you left.

The day you told him you were moving to another city.

You had tried to smile through your tears, promising you’d keep in touch, that distance wouldn’t change anything—but life had a way of proving otherwise.

Calls faded. Messages stopped. The distance became more than just miles.

Or maybe… it was all the little moments in between.

The way you always tugged on his sleeve when you were excited. The way you laughed at his terrible jokes. The way you saw past his bravado—saw him in a way no one else ever had.

No.

It wasn’t one moment—it was all of them.

Every shared glance, every small touch, every whispered conversation under the stars.

Every second spent with you made him fall even more in love than he already was.

The sound of a passing car snapped Gojo out of his thoughts as he reached his apartment building. He sighed, running a hand through his hair.

It was silly—pointless, really—to get stuck in memories like this. Years had passed. You were probably living a new life, far from here.

But still…

He glanced back down the street toward the coffee shop, a faint, wistful smile tugging at his lips.

Maybe fate wasn’t done with him yet.

Part 2

#satoru gojo #gojo #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk fluff #gojo fluff #gojo satoru fluff #works #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk gojo #𐙚 By Chance #gojo smut

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ay4tou · 22 hours ago

Text

daisies and lilies | johan seong x reader

summary: at the flower shop you work in, one of your regular customer finds solace he's been finding amidst all the beautiful flowers — you included.

author's note: i ate in making the summary omg... anyway i love this boy sm (╥_╥) he's the main reason why i started reading lookism | masterlist

The bell above the door chimes again, the sound so familiar now that you don’t even need to look up to know who it is. You glance at the clock on the wall:

6:57 PM.

Right on time.

“Late today,” you say lightly, focusing on the bouquet of snapdragons you’re arranging. You don’t need to check, but you know he’ll be leaning against the doorframe, hands stuffed into the pockets of his jacket, his sharp eyes scanning the shop like it’s a place he’s not quite sure he belongs in.

“You close at seven. That means I’m on time,” he replies, his tone carrying the same stubbornness it always does.

It started with silent visits, weeks of him stepping into the shop. He never bought anything at first, never even spoke until the day you called him out on his quiet lurking.

“You know, this isn’t a library,” you’d said that first time. “You’re supposed to buy something, not just stare.”

He’d blinked at you, almost like he didn’t know how to respond. Then, after a moment, he’d muttered, “What if I don’t know what I want?”

“Then you ask for help.”

That had earned you a long, piercing stare that had made you feel like he was sizing you up, trying to figure out if you were worth the trouble.

He must have decided you were because he’d kept coming back after that.

Now, months later, you’ve fallen into a strange rhythm. He comes in most evenings, buying a single flower or just watching as you work. You thought it was kinda weird at first, but you really didn't mind, as long as you had company on the boring parts of your shift.

You still don’t know much about him, not really. But at least he told you his name. Johan Seong.

You’d offered yours in return, and the sound of it on his lips had stayed with you longer than it should have.

“Hey, Johan,” you say, breaking the silence. “You know, if you keep coming here, people might think you actually like flowers.”

He snorts, stepping closer to the counter. “Maybe I do.”

“Oh, really?” You arch a brow, meeting his gaze. “What’s your favorite, then?”

His eyes flicker over the array of blooms, but he doesn’t answer. Instead, he picks up a lily from the vase on the counter, turning it over in his hands.

“This one,” he says finally.

“Peace and renewal,” you murmur, watching him carefully. “Why does that not surprise me?"

He looks up, and for a moment, there’s something almost playful in his expression. “What, you think I need peace or something?”

You shrug, your lips twitching into a smile. “I think you need a lot of things.”

He laughs then, a short, sharp sound that’s more bitter than amused. “You’re not wrong.”

“What about you?” he asks suddenly, pulling you out of your thoughts. “What’s your favorite?”

“Daisies,” you say without hesitation.

“Daisies?” He raises a brow. “That’s boring.”

“They’re not boring,” you protest, crossing your arms.

He tilts his head, a small, amused smile tugging at his lips. He doesn’t argue. Instead, he sets the lily down and leans against the counter, his expression softening. “You ever think about leaving this place?"

The question catches you off guard. “Leaving? Why would I?”

He shrugs, but there’s something in his eyes you can’t quite place. “I don’t know. Seems like you’re stuck here.”

“I like it here,” you say simply. “It’s peaceful.”

He doesn’t respond, but the way his jaw tightens tells you he has thoughts he’s not sharing.

The nights grow colder, and his visits become less frequent. When he does show up, he’s quieter, more distant. You want to ask him what’s wrong, but something about the look in his eyes keeps you from speaking.

The bell above the shop door stays silent as the hours tick by. You close up, heart heavy with a worry you can’t quite name. The shop feels emptier without him, like a shadow has been cast over the warmth of the flowers.

It’s a week later, just as you’re locking up for the night, when the doorbell chimes faintly. You turn, and your breath catches in your throat.

“Johan?”

He’s leaning heavily against the doorframe, his face pale and drawn. A cut above his brow is bleeding sluggishly, and bruises bloom across his jaw and neck.

"Hey,” he rasps, his voice weak but still carrying that stubborn edge.

You rush to his side, your heart pounding in your chest. “What the hell happened to you?”

“Don’t… don’t worry about it,” he mutters, waving you off even as his knees buckle. You catch him before he can fall, his weight heavy against you.

“Johan, you’re bleeding! Let me-”

“No,” he interrupts, his voice firmer this time. His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, you see something raw and unguarded there. “I didn’t come here for that.”

“Then why-”

“I just… I needed to see you,” he says quietly, his voice cracking on the last word. “One last time.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. You grab his arm, your fingers tightening instinctively. “What do you mean one last time? Hey, you're not gonna... are you?”

“I don’t have a choice,” he cuts you off, his expression twisting with something like regret. “But I'll be back. I promise.”

Your chest tightens, and you shake your head, refusing to believe what he’s saying.

"You're a liar. Stay. I want to help."

“You can’t fix this.” he says, his voice in pain but softening.

Tears prick at your eyes, but you blink them back, refusing to let them fall. “And what about you? Are you just going to disappear?”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a single lily, its white petals slightly crumpled but still beautiful. He holds it out to you with a trembling hand.

“I mean, I brought this.” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. "You said you liked lilies, right?"

You take the flower, your fingers brushing against his. You stared at the single lily, almost wilting but staying strong, even as it's stem is shriveled up.

“Johan…”

"Yeah?"

He leans in, so close you can feel his breath against your skin. For a moment, you think he’s going to kiss you.

"I said I liked daisies. Not lilies."

He stops just short, his forehead almost resting against yours. He retracts his head and makes eye contact with you, looking a bit surprised.

"Oh shit. Really?"

"You really need to take care of yourself." You stifled a laugh. "So young and already has memory loss, what's next, blindness?"

"Hey uh, about that..."

Moments pass and his wounds are all bandaged up, Johan preparing himself to go out of the store one last time.

He sighs. “Take care of yourself too, okay? Bye.” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion.

“Johan!” you call out, but he doesn’t turn back.

The bell chimes faintly as he disappears into the night, leaving you standing there with the wilted lily clutched tightly in your hand.

Days turn into weeks, then months, and you don’t see him again. The ache of his absence feels like a wound that refuses to heal, but life goes on, even when your heart feels heavier than it should.

Then, one morning, you step outside to open the shop and find a single lily on the doorstep. No note, no explanation. Just the flower, pristine and beautiful.

Your breath catches, and for the first time in months, you feel a flicker of something that feels like hope.

The lilies keep coming, rarely but consistently. Sometimes weeks pass between them, sometimes months. But each time you find one, it’s like a quiet reminder that he’s still out there somewhere, alive and thinking of you.

You never see him again, but you carry him with you in the quiet moments. Although the ache of his absence never fully fades, there’s a quiet comfort in knowing that, in some small way, he’s still with you.

#lookism #ay4tou #lookism fic #lookism x reader #johan seong #johan x reader #johan seong x reader #lookism x you #johan lookism #johan seong lookism

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lissasinclair · 2 days ago

Text

Meeting Arthur at the mental asylum

I was lying on my newfound bed with wheels, staring at the ceiling. My brain was working hard; I was frantically trying to recall all the prayers I’ve ever heard or learnt by heart. So… the first one is to the Guardian Angel… The second is to God Himself… Or maybe God doesn’t really need me to tell Him all those beautiful prayers in rhyme? Maybe I can try to ask Him for help using the simple words and sentences?

I was feeling awful as hell. I was just lying in the middle of nowhere. I didn’t know anything about that place with bars on it’s windows; no street name, no how it was look like. I didn’t know where are my own clothes; I was wearing an ugly washed-out gown that was held at my waist by the two long cords. I wondered how many people used to wear it. It felt uncomfortable and kind of humiliating. I looked and I actually felt really crazy in that.

It was New Year’s Eve, on the 31st of December. And I was lying on the bed with wheels in a big hall of a mental asylum, a mental prison, with a bandage on my left wrist.

There were about twenty to thirty other female patients around me. Some were just lying still on their beds, like me, sleeping maybe; the others seemed kind of nervous and worried about something. I was afraid to look at anyone. I was feeling like I was displaying myself in a shop window. Two medical workers were sitting next to the door, laughing and talking, guarding us.

Guarding us from whom? From ourselves?

I continued talking to God, closing my eyes shut. I wanted so desperately to have some sleep, but I couldn’t. My anxiety and fear kept me awake.

“Hey, you”, - suddenly I heard my last name, - “Get up”.

I instantly opened my eyes, not believing my luck. I was sure that the person who just called my last name would tell me now that all that was nothing but a huge mistake and I could finally leave this prison. God really helped me. He heard my prayers and pleas.

“There’s a doctor coming to talk to you”, - a female medical worker told me in a rough tone.

“Okay…”, - I answered, slowly getting up. I looked around and saw a man in a white coat coming to my bed. He was reading something in the papers that he was holding in his hands; he wasn’t looking at me.

“So”, - he said, continuing to check something in his papers, - “Tell me what happened to you exactly, why did you stab yourself and so on”.

I was taken aback by his words; it was hard for me to tell exactly what happened in front of all the other people around me. Some of the women got curious and I saw them sitting upright in their beds, looking at me with interest.

“Mmm…”, - I mumbled, - “Right here?..”

The doctor narrowed his eyes and finally looked at me: “Yeah. What’s the problem?”

I sighed and tried to compose myself. I told myself that I had to use this opportunity, maybe this man was kind enough to understand me? Maybe he would help me? Maybe this was my chance?

I started to tell him my painful story. It seemed like he had already heard that same story a million times. He interrupted me a lot and I was feeling that for some reason he was kind of annoyed with me.

“I really hope you understand”, - I told him finally, trying to speak more quickly, - “I’m an average girl, I’m absolutely normal; I just lost my self-control for a few minutes”.

“Well…”, - he said, writing down something, - “You’re not normal… You can’t be normal”, - he grinned just for a second, - “If you were normal, you wouldn’t do that”.

After saying that he disappeared, as abruptly as he had entered. I watched his back as he went away. I really didn’t understand what had I said wrong.

I laid down again and closed my eyes.

I didn’t know how many minutes or hours passed. I tried to sleep again, but it was impossible. I heard some desperate screams, loud noises around me, rough and angry voices, clatter of swift footsteps, laughing and crying.

I wished I had a book or just something to distract myself a little; but I wasn’t allowed to have anything personal at all. So my mind was the only thing I had to amuse myself. At least there was something left that they couldn’t take away from me. I didn’t want to pray anymore, ‘cause God obviously wasn’t listening to me. So I started recalling all the poems I’d learnt in my previous life ‘till my mind was completely blank.

“She’s just pathetic”, - I heard a female voice talking suddenly out loud, - “I mean, she is crazy for real”.

“She is unworthy of any respect, isn’t she? Stupid idiot. You heard what she said? She said that she’d chosen a very special knife for that; it means she wanted to do that a long ago”.

I was lying completely motionless with my eyes closed. Those fragments of their conversation were about me. They were also the patients. There were three of them.

They continued to talk about me, mocking at me and laughing about the reason why I was there.

I wished I was bold and strong enough to get up and tell them to stop that; to tell them that they were also there, with me, in the same place, that they weren’t better than me at all.

But I couldn’t move.

In the evening the cries and the screams around me became louder. I tried to pretend I didn’t hear anything.

After dinner that tasted as bad as it looked and remained untouched by me, I heard that we were allowed to watch a movie because of New Year’s Eve. It seemed such a miserable thing to me, getting stuck in there, at the dining hall, watching some stupid movie on a tiny TV-set. Why? To create a special atmosphere full of wonder? Haha…

After being forced to take some medications and finding no way to spit them out, I went to the bathroom to wash my face with cold water under the gaze of a medical worker. I wasn’t allowed to be alone with myself even for a minute. I had a disgusting feeling because of that; the words “big brother is watching you” were spinning in my head.

There were no mirrors at the bathroom. I laughed to myself, suddenly understanding why.

After that I entered the overcrowded dining hall. There were already both male and female patients there. “Wow, they decided to gather all the departments in here, what a joy”, - I thought.

My eyes desperately tried to find an empty seat.

My head was dizzy. My heart was racing. What were those pills they gave me? They always ignored my questions about that and there were no names on the packs. It was kind of a secret? Secret healing?

I sighed and tried my best not to fall on the floor and not to start banging my head against it, crying and screaming, as if I had really gone crazy.

All of a sudden my eyes fixed on an empty sit on the edge of a hall. I rushed there.

There was a man sitting next to it. I felt a little bit nervous; was I allowed to sit there or should I only sit next to women? Ohhh, what a stupid fear.

“Hi… Do you mind if I sit here?”, - I asked him quietly.

He looked up at me and our eyes met. His eyes were sad and lustreless; he looked kind of lost. He was skinny and slender; his clothes were baggy and oversized, engulfing his thin frame. His features were well-defined yet delicate; his cheekbones were pronounced and his cheeks were hollowed; it seemed that his skin clung to the bones; his eyebrows were thick and beautiful; his dark brown messy hair framed his face, giving him an endearingly charming look.

Usually I don’t look people in the eyes, ‘cause I’m kind of afraid of that and I always get anxious; but for some inexplicable reason I couldn’t take my eyes away from his.

“S..ssure…”, - he answered, his voice was nearly above a whisper, - “Hello”.

I sat down next to him, feeling relieved. He seemed to be a rather calm guy; I hoped that he wouldn’t cry or scream all the time like my female hallmates. Besides, it was a really good place. He was sitting on my left, while there was no one on my right at all; only the window with that ugly bars.

Out the corner of my eye I saw his hands on his lap. His hands were elegant and large compared to my own hands; his fingers were slender and his finger joints were distinct.

I found that beautiful.

I tried to stop secretly observing him and looked at the tiny TV-set. I was wondering which movie they had chosen for us.

A very familiar melody began to play. I shuddered. Well, of course, it was quite expected… New Year’s Eve, the 31st of December… I knew that movie. For me it was a wonderful love story right from the childhood. It was an old Soviet movie, a romantic comedy called “The Irony of Fate”.

It was hard to ignore the throbbing in my head. It was too much… Watching it here… Having no hope at all, having no one to come and save me from here, desperately trying to keep myself sane all the time; answering the same idiotic questions over and over, wondering which answer would be “normal” enough; being forced to strip naked in front of the stupid medical staff, in order to show them that I actually didn’t have anything sharp hidden under my clothes to cut myself once again… As if I wasn’t a human being, but an object to be humiliated… Ohhh… And after all of that I should watch one of my favourite movies in this hell. It felt like I was betraying myself, like I was throwing mud at everything I used to love.

I almost groaned and closed my eyes. I put my elbows on my knees and hid my face into my arms, hoping I would just disappear.

Suddenly I heard a gentle and faint whisper to my left: “Are you okay?..”

I raised my head a little and turned it left. I saw the beautiful stranger looking at me with concern. Or at least it seemed so.

His eyes met mine again and for a moment I felt my breath hitch in my throat. For a moment I was lost in the depths of his eyes.

“Nah… I mean… Yeah… it’s just… it’s just hard for me to watch this particular… movie”, - I answered in a whisper, breaking our eye contact reluctantly and stared down at my knees, feeling shy.

“You… you’ve watched it before?”, - he asked in a gentle whisper.

“Worse”, - I replied, still staring down, feeling kind of afraid and nervous to look back at him, - “That’s one of my favorite… movies”, - I whispered and looked up at him, trying to master my fears. He half smiled in a very sad and meaningful way.

“I understand”, - he replied with a faint sigh, - “You don’t want to… destroy your beautiful memories of that... Being here destroys everything”.

He continued looking at me. I stared back at him, amazed.

“You put my thoughts into words so… perfectly”, - I said, - “That’s exactly what I think”.

The opening melody was over.

He leaned a little closer to me. I swallowed.

“Can we just… Can we try to imagine that we’re not here right now, that we’re… we are…”, - his whisper was soft and calm, like a gentle gust of a sea breeze into my hair.

“At the cinema?”, - I whispered back doubtfully. It seemed to me that I was beginning to understand what he was about to say.

“Yeah”, - he smiled, his eyes were glistening in the dim light coming from the TV-set, - “Let’s imagine that we’re at the cinema. Somewhere in the centre of the city… And we’re watching it there… Feeling free and… safe…”, - he smiled at me, definitely trying to imagine himself what he was talking about.

I couldn’t help but smiled warmly at him. He seemed to be so kind and extraordinary. It was so overwhelming to talk to someone kind in here. To talk to someone who was listening to me at all.

“Nice idea”, - I whispered softly, - “However that screen is too small to imagine that we are actually at the cinema”.

He chuckled shakily, turning slightly to the left to see the screen and then back to me. “I agree with you. The screen is the only thing in here that doesn’t match with our dream… But I guess… we may try to ignore that, huh?”, - he smiled at me; his smile was so tender, personal and playful; it was a smile from his soul. I smiled back at him and nodded quickly, feeling a thrill running down my spine.

I turned to the screen slowly and saw him did the same. He was still smiling. I was feeling both overwhelmed and calm at the same time. I was feeling strangely drawn to this gentle stranger.

The movie was already going on. I was feeling much better now. I really tried to imagine that I was sitting at the cinema next to this kind man, and that everything was absolutely fine. I was trying to imagine that I was watching this movie for the very first time with him. I was feeling so warm inside because of our little conversation.

We were watching the movie in silence. The other patients around us were rather still, only one woman was getting really anxious about being away from her child. When she got too noisy she was taken away from the hall by the two medical workers.

Sometimes I sneaked glances at him to see his reaction to my favorite scenes. I guessed most of all he liked the songs. He seemed to truly enjoy them because of his sparkling eyes and radiant yet shy smile. I knew all the songs by heart and couldn’t help but imagined how I was singing them to him. Why? I didn’t know. Maybe I wanted to make him smile even more.

Several times I heard people’s loud screams from the distance. I guessed those screams were coming from the farthest hallway. It was the hallway located after entering the building. The screams were rather distant yet seemed to get closer and closer before disappearing again. Obviously there were the new patients there, crying and yelling desperately, not realizing yet why they were brought here. I was listening to them with a heavy and aching heart; I tried to pretend that I didn’t hear them as I usually did, although it was impossible to ignore those animalistic sounds. But that wasn’t the worst part. Worst of all were the shouts in response; the medical workers tried to shout the newcomers down, insulting and threatening them. Their shouts were almost completely drowning out the sounds of the TV. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed how the hands of the beautiful man sitting next to me were shaking at those moments.

I heard how the men in white coats, that were sitting in the dining hall with us, guarding us, laughed loudly: “As always they all go fucking crazy at the end of the year, don’t they?”

Almost at the end of the movie the main characters seemed to lose each other by denying their true love feelings. At that moment a very sad song started playing. In the lyrics of that song a man was trying to find his lost love. All his efforts were wasted. This song was called “I Asked the Ash Tree”. It was kind of a metaphorical song; very touching and even heartbreaking. This song always managed to touch the very inner parts of my soul, no matter how many times I’d listened to it. And, of course, it did touch my soul now. I swallowed a lump in my throat.

I turned left just a little to look at my new acquaintance. I saw his eyes locked to the screen with a sorrowful look on his handsome features. His eyes were strangely sparkling and he seemed to be so far away from here. My heart dropped. He was almost crying.

I felt my body shake a little. Did he find this song touching too? His soul seemed to me too gentle to be in here, to be locked in this soulless little world with the bars on the windows.

I felt an unbearable urge to reassure him somehow. I leaned to him and whispered: “Don’t worry; they will be together at the end of the movie”.

He turned to me and laughed nervously but quietly, wiping away the tears with the sleeve of his shirt. “You’ve just spoiled me the ending, have you?”, - he whispered in a cracked voice with a hint of playfulness.

I grinned at him softly: “I’m sorry; but I guess that was rather obvious; they’re meant to be together”, - I whispered, feeling shy and kind of nervous.

He stared back at me with a calm thoughtful look. “Yeah… They really are…”, - he smiled, his eyes were still sparkling; I suddenly thought that I wouldn’t forget that beautiful moment.

When the movie ended, I saw several medical workers leaving their posts and waiting for the patients near the door, shouting rudely: “Everybody out, now! Hurry up!”

I got up from the chair and saw the man next to me did the same. I felt a piercing ache in my heart. Suddenly a rush of panic and fear was overwhelming me.

All the patients were moving slowly towards the door. It was still rather dark in here, and the only light was coming from the hallway.

I felt so helpless. I didn’t want to go; I didn’t want to leave him; what if I would never see him again?

I swallowed hard and looked at him. “Time to say goodbye?”, - I asked, feeling awkward.

I noticed that he wasn’t much taller than me; he looked fragile and even thinner than before now that he was standing.

He looked at me, leaning over to me, his eyes were deep and tender. “Could I possibly ask you to… to stay? I mean… in here? Just to talk?..”, - he stuttered a little bit while trying to find the words.

“What do you mean? They will notice… I mean… our absence”, - I sad quietly, ignoring the dense flow of the other patients around us.

He half smiled. “I guess they won’t… They need to celebrate, you know… Too busy entertaining themselves”, - he said, looking at me with a dark expression on his face.

I understood what he meant. The staff wouldn’t lose the opportunity to celebrate New Year. Moreover there weren’t any medical chiefs at that time. I’d already heard the dish clattering and the laughter coming from the distance.

I felt the adrenaline rushing through my whole body. Obviously I wanted to stay with him. I wanted to talk to him. I needed to get to know him. But at the same time I was scared to death that they would find us and would try to discipline somehow.

And, of course, I was thrilled to stay alone with him. It felt too good to be true.

“I’ll stay with you”, - I whispered, looking at him timidly, feeling my heart racing.

He smiled, seemingly not believing that I actually agreed.

“Come here with me”, - he said quietly, taking me by the sleeve in a very gentle way. He led me over to the last row of the chairs, bypassing the little crowd.

It was still dark in there. No one turned on the light in the hall. We knelt down behind the seats, remaining hidden under the darkness.

I was watching the crowd of the patients passing through the narrow door to the hallway. I was praying so that nobody would notice us. I still wasn’t sure if I was doing the right thing staying here with that kind man. Who knows, what was going on in his mind? He was a complete stranger to me after all; but I wasn’t afraid of him at all. Quite the opposite, in fact. I was feeling oddly calm except for that strange excitement and tension. I just couldn’t resist the temptation to get to know him.

Finally everyone left and the door slammed shut. I was holding my breath, listening to the turn of the key in the door. Then I heard the sound of the footsteps disappearing in the hallway.

It seemed that we both were still waiting for something in a complete silence. After a few minutes my lovely stranger laughed quietly. I turned to him, smiling in relief.

We got to our feet almost simultaneously. I was now standing right in front of him. His eyes were piercing mine. The only light was coming through the window behind my back. There were some lanterns shining in the inner yard of the building. Their soft glow illuminated through the bars of the window making the delicate features of his face visible. I found myself admiring him once again. Even more now. His beauty was exceptional without a doubt. He had a fragile, almost ethereal beauty. He looked like a real piece of art; something amazing, something historical, something you need to cherish with all your heart.

He smiled warmly at me, his eyes were sparkling. “Let’s have a sit over there”, - he said softly, looking behind me. I turned around to the window with a wide sill. I took a couple of steps forward; then I climbed onto the sill and sat on it dangling my legs. He sat down opposite me and looked at me as if he couldn’t believe that I was actually here. His deep eyes were focusing on mine as though he was desperately trying to dig into my soul. He was making me feel nervous but… in a very good way.

We were sitting silent for a few minutes or so. The silence felt strangely comfortable and… safe. It was the very first time I heard silence in here.

A funny thought just came into my mind. “Do you know what people usually say?.. About celebrating New Year?”, - I smiled, looking directly into his eyes.

“What is it? Tell me”, - he said with a soft smile.

“People usually say… that the way you’ll celebrate the New Year…is actually the way you’ll live it”, - I said, smiling shyly yet playfully, - “That means we’re fated to stay here… At least for a year… I mean… No way to escape… From this prison”.

He laughed gently and shook his head. “I hope that people are wrong about that… You’ll definitely get out of here… Not sure about myself though”, - he said, his eyes dulled a little, but his smile didn’t fade.

I continued looking at him with newfound confidence.

“Do you… do you wanna smoke maybe?..”, - he suddenly asked in a low and soft voice, taking out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from his pocket. His every move was smooth, graceful and calm. I was admiring his irresistible charm.

I widened my eyes in amazement after hearing what he’d just said. “Really?.. I mean… Sure, I’d love to… But… where did you get that?”, - I said, looking at him with wonder.

He grinned with a radiant smile, leaned closer to me and handed me an open pack of cigarettes. I smiled and gladly took one, placing it between my teeth.

“You know, my guards… I tell them some jokes at times and stuff… And if they find it funny enough, they kind of… reward me with that”, - he said, still smiling, yet his expression darkened a little.

I was watching him almost in awe, wondering to myself, how is it even possible to make jokes in such a hell?

He flicked his lighter, and brought the flame up to the tip of my cigarette, leaning even closer to me. I raised my left hand, instinctively covering the flame. The sleeve of my robe fell down, revealing the bandage on my wrist. I froze for a second, feeling like a pathetic stupid idiot, ‘cause only pathetic stupid idiot would do something like that.

I took my left hand away, not sure if he noticed that or not. I couldn’t help but looked up at him, inhaling the smoke. He was so close, looking straight into my eyes. It felt like the most intimate and magical moment I’ve ever experienced. I could feel his breathing; it was overwhelming.

I leaned back a little, feeling extremely shy. I exhaled the smoke with a sigh of relief.

“Better?..”, - he asked quietly in low and calm voice, smiling warmly.

“So much… better…”, - I answered, taking another drag, feeling the smoke burning my throat.

He chuckled like he knew exactly what I was thinking about and lit himself a cigarette, taking a long drag on it. He let the smoke linger for a few seconds; after that he exhaled it in a long stream directed to the ceiling.

I couldn’t take my eyes off him. Oh my… The way he was smoking was so… cinematic. He looked so… perfect, so alluring… He was almost glowing in the low light coming from the window; he looked like an angel.

He seemed to notice my gaze and it seemed that he liked it.

“What is your name?”, - he asked suddenly. His voice was soft, musical and a little husky; I felt my heart pounding against my ribs; I was admiring him, watching the smoke leaving his lips, swirling through the air. “My name is Lana”, - I answered quietly, swallowing hard, - “And what is your name?”

“My name is Arthur”, - he said, smiling, - “You have a very beautiful name, Lana”, - he added; his smile was shy and sincere. It looked adorable.

“You have a very beautiful name too…”, - I answered, melting under his stare like a snowflake on a tongue. His wonderful name suited him so perfectly.

The thin wisps of the smoke floated in the air, making all around us looking like a fantasy.

“Lana… I’m sorry for asking, but…”, - he said in a soft yet hesitant voice, - “Your wrist… That’s the reason why you are here?..”

I froze for a few moments, didn’t know what to answer, feeling embarrassed and, yeah, feeling like a pathetic stupid idiot.

I took the last deep drag from the cigarette and crushed it out on the sill. I swallowed hard and nodded, staring at the window.

“I wasn’t… I mean… I didn’t want to… I didn’t want to do that… I don’t know why I did that… I’m just…”, - I sighed deeply, desperately trying to find the words, - “It was like the other part of me. You know, like it wasn’t me at all. Like the real me was just standing there and observing all that was happening… And she, I mean, the real me, didn’t want to stop that or didn’t know how. Whereas the other part of me had an irresistible urge to hurt someone… To hurt… Myself…”, - the words were flowing out like an endless stream, - “I was so overwhelmed by pain and… fear… so hardly overwhelmed. It was intolerable… Unbearable… I wanted to release it somehow… And also… I wanted to make myself… To make myself feeling even worse. It was like I was wondering… How would I feel after reaching the bottom of this… abyss… But know what, Arthur…”, - I sighed, saying his name felt like the very last step of giving all my trust to him, - “Now I know for sure… This abyss has no bottom… And I’m keeping falling”, - I stared down, feeling my body tremble.

I heard how he sighed heavily, crushing his cig. “You’re not alone with that, Lana… Yow know, I… I do understand you. I feel you”, - he said, his voice was gentle and a little hoarse, - “I feel you…”, - he said again and moved closer to me. He laid his hand on my right forearm softly, like I was made of crystal.

I was feeling like my chest would explode from my heartbeat.

I looked up at him, feeling both deeply embarrassed and suddenly relieved. He was looking at me with a deep understanding, his soulful eyes were filled with compassion and gentleness. “Just so you know… you are not falling alone… And as long as you’re not alone, falling isn’t that scary…”, - he said.

I swallowed, breathing unevenly. His hand was still on my forearm and I could feel his warmth.

“I guess I’m here for…for kinda same reasons”, - he added, continuing looking into my eyes, - “Although… it doesn’t seem so at the first glance…”

“What… what did you did?”, - I asked, my voice was raspy and it was hard for me to speak.

He hesitated for a moment.

“I killed six people”, - he said.

His tone was dark and serious; it sounded like a joke to me, although I could tell from his expression it wasn’t. His eyes became empty, dull and lifeless in just a moment. The look in his eyes was exactly the same as when I saw him for the first time. I could see a pain in his eyes. He looked like a person who had lost all the hope in life.

I couldn’t believe what he’d just said. How could anyone so fragile-looking and gentle-hearted be a killer?..

“But… how?.. I mean… why?..” - I asked, looking at him, feeling my heart heavy for him.

“You know, Lana… I was feeling like I was drowning in my pain... I got used to that, but then… at some point… it was… too much to bear. I didn’t know how to make it stop… At least for a moment…” - he looked away, his voice was hoarse and shaking. “And then something just broke inside of me… Something I couldn’t repair. You told me that you were feeling like there was some other part of you, hurting you… I was feeling exactly the same way… I was feeling like…like I was torn in two… One half of me was petrified and couldn’t move or think of anything, while the other half was dizzy with excitement… With a strange kind of excitement I’ve never felt before… I was… so thrilled, so unstoppable, so… uncontrollable, so unfamiliar to my usual self. And you know what… I was also feeling… free. Finally free from my pain… And even… relieved… But at the same time I felt that feeling that way was wrong… That in fact my pain didn’t fade away at all… But at least it was no longer locked inside of me. It broke free… Suddenly all the pain and suffering were no longer only mine…”

Arthur was silent for a while, staring gloomily out the window. Then he said: “I wish I didn’t do that… but I did”.

I was trembling as if with a chill. Everything he’d just said felt like it was happening to me. I could feel his pain. I could feel how unbearable it was. I wish I could find the right words to reassure him, but it seemed there were no words in the whole world in any languages that would help to heal his deepest wounds.

I carefully jumped off the sill. Then I turned my right hand palm up and pulled his arm gently. He slowly moved his legs off the sill and stood in front of me.

Now he was looking at me. His sorrowful eyes penetrated my whole being. And it hurt me deeply to look into his eyes.

I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream. Never in my whole life had I met someone like him. I was feeling like I’d met my own soul in him.

I couldn’t resist but hugged him. I didn’t know from where I got the confidence to do that. I wrapped my arms around his neck and gently nuzzled the crook of it, hiding my face and breathing in his scent. He smelled like smoke; it was on his clothes and I inhaled his scent deeply, feeling light-headed and dizzy.

He froze and I could feel his body stiffening with tension. For a moment I was afraid that he would push me away; but then he gave me a tentative hug back, wrapping his arms around my waist very carefully, as if he was scared of hurting me.

“You… Why are you hugging me, Lana?..”, - he whispered into my hair.

“Because… I feel you. I feel you too, Arthur”, - I whispered back, - “I feel you more than you can imagine…”

I raised my hands a bit and stroked his soft and silky curls.

Arthur pulled me closer towards him, holding me tighter, sighing deeply and shakily. I felt his warmth; it was so incredibly comforting. I instantly felt safe and relaxed; I felt like I was weightless; like I was normal.

“I have a request for you, Lana”, - he whispered softly; I could feel his hands moving slowly across my back.

“What is it?”, - I asked in a gentle whisper, still stroking his hair.

Arthur paused for a moment before saying: “Please be… real”, - he whispered, his voice quaking as if he lost control of his emotions, - “I want you to be real. I need you to be real”.

I smiled, feeling a lump in my throat.

“Make a wish, then, Arthur… Make a wish for me to be real. And I’ll make a wish for you to be real too”, - I whispered desperately and almost inaudibly, - “People say all the wishes come true on New Year’s Eve”.

He pulled back a little and cupped my face with his hands with exquisite gentleness, looking down into my eyes with tenderness.

“I really hope they are right about that”, - Arthur said quietly with a delicate laugh, and then his soft lips pressed very gently against mine.

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worldofkuro · 2 days ago

Text

Painted Smile

Painted Smile XXXVIII

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Summary: You couldn't wait to meet new friends. What you didn't expect was this smiling little boy, only one year older than you, that would take such a big place in your life.

Notes: My dears... I am so sorry for the wait. For those who are still there, here is Alastor POV, I hope you'll enjoy it. I loved writing it, even if it was hard sometimes: Alastor's psyche is... hard to understand. Please do share your opinion ! 18k words for today. TW: Alastor's mind, near death

Being a father was an experience. Not good, not bad… A simple experience.

After you gave birth, the doctor had told him that you lost too much blood and that you needed to stay at the hospital for a few days. He nodded while staring at you and the baby in your arms. Even though you almost died, you were beaming tiredly at him with so much pride.

The next days were a lot to take in, your parents came to you, then his own mother. He could only smile at her as she congratulated you and him for becoming parents. He didn’t think he was the one who needed to be congratulated but he would take the attention nevertheless.

Alizée came on the fourth day, being her unoriginal boring self. She congratulated you and almost burst out in tears when you told her the name of your child. He rolled his eyes at her but you shushed him. You could be so cute trying not to make him hurt people’s feelings…

He turned his head toward the door when the former butler of the Richemont came in: Williams D’Angelo… The man congratulated you but soon enough Alastor asked him to come with him. He left your room, closing the door behind him and turned toward the butler with a charming smile. He couldn’t wait to make this man his new puppet…

“ Mr. D’Angelo… Let’s have a chat, shall we?” Alastor started walking toward the hospital’s cafeteria, never looking back. He already knew the old man was following him, after all, he was masterless if not for Maurice Richemont. He sat at a table and asked for a coffee before looking at the butler who seemed strong even after all of this. “ It seems like you are still mourning…”

“ Heh..” Williams sighed with a sad smile, “ Are you not?” He asked Alastor, his eyes trying to read the tan skinned man. Alastor gave him his usual smile, was he mourning Alice Richemont…? He didn’t think so .. He was just missing their usuals banters… That was it.

“ Does it look like it ?” Alastor asked while drinking his coffee, his eyes closed. People always thought they knew better than him based on his own feelings. He was his own master, he was the only one controlling his feelings and emotions… Even if you had power over them sometimes.

“ Well, if not, you wouldn’t have named your daughter Alice, am I wrong ?”

Alastor freezed for a second before looking at the butler who had a soft but sad smile. He kept his smile on his face, hiding his anger. Who did he think he was? The one who wanted to name their daughter Alice was you… And he accepted it because he knew it was something that meant a lot for you.

And perhaps, he hoped his child would be as useful and amusing as his late ally… Or that he could taunt Alice’s ghost by showing her how his daughter was happily alive.

But the man in front of him didn’t need to know it. But from the look of it, Williams seemed weak mentally, he could easily manipulate him to be his own spy. After all, the man had already asked you to find the man that did this to his former mistress.

“ I guess you’re right…” Alastor lied, faking a sad smile while putting his cup on the table.

To manipulate someone, you needed to make sure the person in front of you thought you were feeling the same turmoil as them and most of all, you needed to play dumb. You also needed to seem weak, so the person would never think you were stronger than them. They would never think you would turn your back on her, and to be able to do that, you need to be the one to ask for help first. “ I might need your help, Mr.D’Angelo.”

The butler tilted his head, staring at Alastor, already focused on him. Alastor contained his laughter, it wasn’t everyday that the Great Alastor asked someone for help, the man must be dying of curiosity…

“ I… I know who killed Alice, and I think you know it too..” Alastor whispered, staring into the butler’s eyes. He could see every twitch of muscles, showing how the man was trying to keep a straight face. “ Mr. D’Angelo… the killer is Trey Felleur, we both know it.” Alastor stared as the man’s gaze fell on his cup of coffee, toying with his spoon.

“ You… I think so too… Unfortunately, Mr.Sanglar, we have no proof and the Felleur’s name is powerful, not as much as the Richemont but still enough for us not to attack them…”

Alastor observed the poor man in front of him. He seemed so weak right now, like he gave up on fighting against the man who took away his precious mistress that he considered just like his own daughter. Alastor rolled his eyes, his smile still present. Gosh… How could someone be so weak when they knew they could take revenge ?

“ I didn’t expect you to be a coward, I’m sorry, it seems like I made a mistake talking to you.” Alastor said, drinking his coffee waiting patiently for the man to come out of his shell. He saw it. In this old man, there was a need for justice… or like he liked to call it: revenge. He just needed to make Williams realize what he desired, his own selfish desires…

“ Mr.Sanglar… I would like you to refrain from saying such words. I am no coward… just a tired old man. What could I do? I’m nobody, I held no weight against Trey… I’m just a butler..” Williams sighed as Alastor’s grin widened. He got him.

“ Yes, exactly. You might be the oldest butler in this house. Don’t you think Trey will ask for your help to hold everything ? He will surely try to own everything Alice had for herself. And because you are a butler loyal to the head of the Richemont, he will need your help. He will talk to you, saying how hard it is without Alice… And you need to play your part. Make it seem like you’re on his side… But tell me everything this man is doing.” Alastor spat with an excited grin.

He needed to prepare your next hunt. He knew that, now that you were a mother, you would pass more time with the little living creature you created, than hunting. Which wasn’t so bad, you would make a perfect alibi if needed.

Even if he preferred when you were his accomplice.

When he came back inside your room after making sure that Williams will be on his side, he wasn’t surprised to see Baron Samedi and Papa Legba sitting in the hospital room.

”Kalfu doesn’t want to come?” You asked so cutely. You could be so naive, do you truly think the Loa he was working with cared about your life? He only wanted to be entertained.

”He doesn’t care.” Alastor responded but he immediately saw that something was on your mind. You were looking at the baby then at him. He was sure you were thinking if he was feeling some kind of bond with Alice.

” Don’t you want to hold our daughter?”

“ Why? You don’t want to hold her anymore? I can carry her if you want.”

” Do you want to?”

Alastor held back a groan. When you got pregnant, he was ecstatic because your body was creating another living creature with a part of himself. But what he was ‘scared’ about was that you would change. That by bringing this creature in your life, you would become a dull and boring facette the society wanted you to be because you became a mother. He trusted you to not become like this. Maybe it was because Alice was just a few days old that you seemed so… protective?

Alastor gave you his usual smile, a smile that he knew you recognised as: Don’t ask questions about it. He felt satisfied when he saw you smiling while shaking your head, no matter the time or how unusual he could be, you still understood him. And even if he wouldn’t recognise it himself, it felt great to be known and listened to.

” She is such a cute baby, I’m happy you are alive and well, little warrior !” Baron Samedi, not worried about your weakened state, said as he watched the baby falling asleep. Alastor wondered if the Baron knew that you weren’t going to die due to childbirth or… if he stopped you from dying… He would have to look deeper into this.

But he had other things to talk about. Baron Samedi wasn’t the person he was working for, but seeing the Loas being in such high spirits, the pun was intended, he began to talk… or brag about his news powers. Kalfu had given him this red cane, bragging about how he could trap souls inside it. Unfortunately he would lose one year of his life for each soul… It wasn’t that bad, what was bothering him was that he didn‘t know if you would be affected too. After all, your souls were now bound in many realms, thinking that hurting his own soul wouldn’t echo in yours would be a dangerous guess.

“ That bastard… He really gave you that, huh…” The Baron didn’t seem upset by the news, like he already knew that his Loa was going to do such a thing. Alastor didn’t like when someone looked at him like he didn’t surprise them with his thinking, be it loa or human; he didn't like how the Baron was looking at him. You asked the man if the power Alastor had earned was his, and the Baron nodded with an amused expression.

“Am I the only one whose lifespan will be shortened?” Alastor asked, his eyes moving toward Papa Legba, even if this power wasn’t his, he knew the old Loa would have the answer he seeked.

” Logically,no. You are bound together forever, if your lifespan is being reduced, because of your deal, our little lady will also have her lifespan shortened.”

Alastor nodded, already thinking about a deal that would preserve your life. Maybe he could ask Kalfu to take two years of his own life so yours wouldn’t be affected… It seemed like a good deal, you wouldn’t be affected and he would still be able to use this power.. But how does someone trap a soul exactly? He knew for a fact that Kalfu would never explain to him how to do it… And he had his pride, he wouldn’t ask Baron Samedi for help. He sighed while looking at you who was also staring at him.

He couldn’t help but smile before kissing your forehead, you were always worried about what was going inside his crazy mind, it was adorable and admirable. No one wished to be inside his head, not even his own mother…

” Now, let’s talk about you, my dear. You als earned another power, flying was it?” Alastor said with pride, smirking at Papa Legba. He truly didn’t know how you managed to earn such powerful power each time but he truly thrived on it.

“ Well, it is the power to understand the air, that is her new power. She can’t control the air, she is only human after all.”

“ But… you said it was a new skill of mine? Levitating…”

“ Well of course, your Telekinesis power got stronger enough for you to use it on yourself to be able to levitate. You aren’t really controlling the air…”

“ But, the air was like a storm around me at that time.” You said, looking at Alastor who nodded, confirming your sayings. You looked like an angry goddess, it was beautiful.

“ I know little lady, I was there. I summoned a spirit who controls the air, they are very empathic so your rage filled them enough to make a small storm inside the room. The spirit didn’t want to leave you, so you can work with them. You will now be able to ask the wind to do things for you, if the spirit wants to, of course.”

Alastor looked at you, his smile still present. He could guess your thoughts like it was his own. You were surely wondering why this spirit wanted to work with you… He wasn’t even surprised: since you were little and you were playing tag with him, you were always faster than him, he always felt like the wind was helping you escape him… He wondered if this spirit that seemed attached to you now, had been there since you were a little girl…

He smirked when he saw you looking around, searching for this new spirit. He could see on your face, you were wondering if the spirit was there.

“No, no”, laughed Legba while Baron Samedi was chuckling next to you, “ they are having fun somewhere right now. As long as you don’t summon them, they won’t stay next to you. Wind is freedom after all.”

“ So, my dearest can ask this spirit to go somewhere and do things? Or is it a passive spirit?” Asked Alastor, he was very interested. “ Is it the same kind of spirit that I have for my fire? Or is it different ?”

“ Well, we can say that those powers you two have are from spirits. Your powers aren’t yours, remember that. They belong to the spirits Kalfu and I let into this realm. If we ever took them back, you would be powerless.” Legba stared at you with a sadness you or Alastor could understand, was Legba giving them a warning or an advice?

“ But yes, to be clear, Alastor owns a Fire spirit while the little doll works with the air spirit.” Baron Samedi said as he smoked his cigar. You frowned at the spirit who seemed confused by your glare but when you showed your baby he laughed before stepping back, smoking away from you and Alice.

“ Why do I work with a spirit and Alastor owns it?” you asked.

“ Well… Alastor’s spirits are trapped with him until he dies or unless Kalfu decides he wants them back. You, little lady, work with them because they want to. They can go back to the spiritual realm if they deem you not worthy of their service.” Papa Legba explained.

“ But why?”

“ Haha ! Because you are working with Legba and your husband with Kalfu, it’s that simple.” Teased Baron Samedi.

Alastor smirked at this. Did that mean that he owned the spirit’s soul? They were linked to his own soul … That was interesting and exciting news. What was worrisome was that you worked with spirit, did it mean they could give up on you..? Without Legba opening the door for them to go back to the spirit realm, the spirit would be trapped in this world… He wondered what could happen to a spirit who had lost his way…

Alastor looked at you as you shouted about your shadow’s disappearance. He really didn’t understand how you managed to get so attached to this spirit…But he truly was surprised and confused when Legba said that the shadow came back on its own toward the old Loa so it wouldn’t use your energy more than it did when he was playing around. He neared a peek at his own shadow which grinned back at him mockingly before going back to normal.

Yes, right, feelings.

He scoffed as he saw his own shadow rushed toward yours when it reappeared. It seemed like your shadow truly missed you… and so did his own shadow… How shameful.

After another hour of talking, then two Loas dissipated in the air. Alastor dropped his eyes toward the baby in your arms who was looking back at him. She had the same chocolate eyes that he wore. The same honey colour in the bottom of her eyes and yet… The way they shined was unmistakably like yours.

” She has your eyes…”

You beamed at his comment which made him smirk a little. The first time he saw your eyes,they were shining with eagerness to make him open himself to you, then as time flew, your eyes shined with curiosity for the world, feelings for him, bloodlust, manipulation…Aah, you truly were a fallen angel… Or perhaps, an angel he tripped so you could fall where he was.

Days went by until you could leave the hospital. Victor and Mimzy came by to see the baby, which he didn’t understand. Why come and meet someone they didn‘t know and wouldn’t be able to speak with them? But well, you seemed happy at Victor’s presence, and not too much at Mimzy’s.

Being a family was… irritating. He could already tell that Alice was going to be way too sensible to the world around her, just like him when he was a child. But unlike his daughter, he was sensible because of his father’s punches and kicks. Alice was lucky that you were here to console her when she was crying because the rock she saw disappeared in the river.

When you were taking care of Alice, he was cooking or cleaning the house. He didn’t feel the need to bond with his child, after all she wasn’t capable of understanding him, so why bother?

He became more interested in his daughter when he saw that she played with your shadow, even his sometimes. He wasn’t surprised, after all she was your daughter, if she couldn’t see spirit he would have been a bit disappointed.? She wouldn’t have any use for him. But he would have to wait more, he knew that children were more sensitive to the invisible realm than adults.

His mother often came to help you, which he was grateful for. He was working at the radio,taking more demands so he could have more money for you to use. Sometimes he wondered if you would be happier working with him than being a mother.

Often, he would come back home late, you would already be sleeping and his mother would still be there, sitting in the kitchen waiting for him. He would ask about your wellbeing, which his mother would answer but then a silence would appear.

” What?”

” You don’t ask about Alice?”

” She is dead.”

” Your daughter, Alastor! Not your RicheMont friend!”

Alastor smiled at his mother,it was cute. She thought that Alice RicheMont and him used to be friends , they were at most… business partners… A business partner he liked to piss off. But his mother didn’t find his humour funny, and that’s how he ended up sitting on the chair with his mother lecturing him about being more invested in his daughter's life.

She kept lecturing him as he drove her back to her house. As he came back home, he couldn’t help but wonder. Was he supposed to be an important person in his daughter’s life? Why? Because he was her father? He rolled his eyes, no shit. He would prefer her daughter to choose all the persons she wants to curse herself with for the rest of her life. Being a parent didn’t mean he weighed more than someone else in her life… He sighed as he left his car and walked back inside your house. He moved toward the bedroom but stopped when he heard Alice crying.

Fucking hell….

He ordered his shadow to take the baby before going into his studying room. He sat on the chair while his shadow approached his desk, with Alice in his arms, who, surprisingly, stopped crying.

” Listen, I don’t want to force this bond everyone is talking about.” He spoke while looking at his daughter who seemed to listen to him. “ You have no opinion yet, so why are you so loud? You have nothing to say, so why does everyone stop talking when you scream?” He sighed while rubbing the edge of his nose. “ Now, be quiet, I need to find a way to erase Trey Felleur from existence, understood?”

Alastor stared at Alice who giggled at his words. He raised an eyebrow while his shadow grinned with sharp teeth at Alice. Could the baby understand him? He opened one drawer from his desk and took out a gun and one knife. He showed the two items to Alice who looked at the weapons curiously.

” Which one do you prefer? Which one do we pick to kill Trey Felleur?” he asked, waiting patiently as Alice made grabby hands toward the two weapons. He smirked at Alice’s eagerness. “ You just want both, huh? You know, you have your mother’s eyes…I hope you will inherit her fighting spirits.” He smirked before wincing when Alice made a high pitched noises while making grabbing mention toward her old radio.

Oh, maybe she inherited good tastes from him?

He took Alice in his arms before talking about his radio. He didn’t know why, but he began talking about his work to Alice, who was smiling at him. He even let her take his glasses from his face and it seemed like his action was rewarded by your presence. You seemed truly moved by the scene you were witnessing. Was that a big deal for you? If so, it seemed like he would have to talk more with his baby to make you happy…

The first time Alice spoke and said mommy, you almost dropped her while Alastor choked on his coffee. He forgot the baby was alive and could actually evolve into something worth his time. When Alice said dad for the first time, he wasn’t surprised, he just smirked while telling her to quickly learn new words so they could finally have deep conversations.

You created a lot of memories, you always took photos, even if he didn’t really like having his photo taken, as long as it was for you, he would suppress the discomfort he felt in his body. You took a picture of every ‘important’ moment about Alice; When she started walking, when she ran for the first time…It was stupidly endearing for him to see.

While you were living in this ordinary life you seemed to like, he was still trying to find a way to erase Trey from this world. The best victory would be to own his soul,earning this bastard‘s essence, that worked with Lucifer. How pleasurable would it be…

He would stay in his studio after a radio broadcast, thinking about every possible way to trap the man, while trying not to lose his mind because you seemed truly happy in that ordinary life you had right now, far away from murder,plots, blood and powers…

Sometimes, during his insomnia, he would stare at his daughter, with a raised eyebrow.

” Your mother is beginning to forget the pleasure of killing… Do something.” He sighed when Alice giggled at him. How useless.

His shadow was always with you or Alice, waiting for Trey to attack or send someone but nothing. It was truly beginning to feel like he was playing against a ghost who left the game they were supposed to play. Furthermore, you were sending your air spirit to look for information. If it was years ago, he would have smiled proudly at you, but now, he felt anger. You weren’t as sharp as before, your mind was focused on Alice which meant you were prone to make a mistake that could make every tiny step he made in the last years disappear.

“But, now that he is without a wife, he cares about the testament from his father in law.. He wants the Richemonts’s wealth.” You said, looking guilty about using your power while Alastor told you to kept low.

“ Well, he is going to own it. He is the rightful heir to all of Richemont's wealth…”

You sighed, shaking your head, your fist clenching so hard you felt your nails digging into the palms of your hands. Alastor raised an eyebrow, well it seemed like you still felt anger about this situation.

“ He doesn’t own it. Richemont's name doesn’t belong to him.” You spat, feeling anger taking place inside you making the wind around you move your and Alastor’s hair.

“ Don’t worry, we will kill him before he manages that.” Alastor said, kissing your cheek, while his hands were moving toward your neck. You sighed as he squeezed it a little, just like your husband told you, everything was going to turn alright.

Years passed by and this is where you were right now: June 1932.

Alice was now five years old and he was proud to say that his daughter was turning into an interesting person. She was clever and witty but maybe a little too emotional, but he couldn’t help but think this was the part she took from you. After all her eyes still looked like yours, still shining with this precious glint that she inherited from you.

Which made it incredibly funny to mess with her. He never babied his daughter, not a single time since she was born, and he wasn’t going to begin now. Watching Alice trying to step up to keep with witty banter made his chest feel … funny.

She was always looking at him like she wanted Alastor to acknowledge her. He could see her eyes beaming when he laughed at one of her comeback or when her face fell when he looked at her with, what she thought was disappointment.

That made him laugh, most of the time he wasn’t feeling enough emotions for Alice for him to be disappointed by her.

He wondered if his own father was feeling the same for him when he was a child. Was it why he hitted him? Because seeing him didn’t make his father feel any kind of emotions? No. After all, he didn’t feel the need to hurt his daughter. Which was worse? He wondered... Caring too much or not at all?

After all, he was still doing what he wanted with his daughter. He would show her how his old radio worked, he even brought her to his workplace which brought a shining smile to your lips.

What would he not do for you?

This masquerade of an unoriginal life.

He knew you, he knew you were craving the violence of murder. The violence he introduced you , the power of the Loas you both were connected to. Playing house was overdue. He stayed quiet, never forcing you to come back to the life you had before Alice came into the picture.

He could see how you were staring at his hands when he was cutting meat in the kitchen or when he was playing with his rifle as he went hunting in the forest surrounding your house. You were trying to suppress your vile desire you both shared, why? Why now? Because you had a daughter?

The only time you let those desires roam freely was during sex. Which wasn’t bad of course, seeing your eyes flashing red while he was cutting lines on your skin, marking you as his property was a thrilling feeling. You even tried to run away from him in the forest at night, making his hunting pulsions grow. You truly liked to be chased after, right? As long as he caught you, of course.

He needed to find a plan to get rid of Trey Felleur so you could find an excuse to be yourself.

What he feared when Alice was born was that you would try to be a boring version of yourself to protect your daughter from her parents' madness. So people wouldn’t look at her weirdly in the street.

She was your daughter, she was half him and half you. Did you truly think Alice was going to end up as a normal woman? Hah! Now that would be funny.

He never intended Alice to be normal. She was a pawn in his game, he needed her to become Baron Samedi’s protégée… He knew the Loa that was reigning over Death had taken a liking in you, and mostly Alice. Baron Samedi was very protective of children, he didn’t wish for any single child to die. He knew Marie, his mother, worked with the Loa to protect him, her only son. That meant that the Baron was already linked to his side of the family, and with how often he came to visit you, he wouldn’t be surprised that he would take Alice as his protégée. He just needed to be patient…

But while he stayed patient so his plan could work, you were falling into your fake desire of a normal life. He was working in the shadows so you both could kill Trey and you were trying to enjoy a boring life, how stupid could you be, dearest? He worked for years to find any flaw that Trey could make, any single one, even from John’s side.

But then one day, God heard him.The stock market crash that robbed almost all of the Felleur’s family wealth in 1929. That made him laugh so loud when he heard about it.

Now, he could work with this. He knew Trey wouldn’t let his pride watch his family name fall with all the other’s family who didn’t survive the market crash. Few did manage to survive actually, and Alastor couldn’t help but laugh maniacally when he heard that the RicheMont’s family didn’t lose any money from the economic crash.

He knew that Trey would try to earn that wealth for himself. After all, the man was still Maurice Richemont’s son-in-law, even to this day.

What Alastor learned after years of planning and analyzing was that he and Trey were similar in a lot of ways, that’s why he knew that Trey would choose the fastest solution to make all the Richemont’s money his. Which meant…

Maurice RicheMont was going to be assassinated, he was sure of it. How, he didn’t know, but the man was a dead walking man. Now, Alastor knew what he had to do. After all, he saw how Trey wasn’t his composed self since he killed his wife. He snickered as he thanked his old partner for being useful even today even if she was no longer alive.

So, Trey wanted Richemont’s money, so what was the best thing to do?

Make it so that Maurice’s will belong to you and him.

He needed to make Trey lose his mind, for his plan and his own pride.

Alastor began to talk with Maurice through letters, saying how devastated he was, even years after Alice’s death. The grieving father easily fell into his tricks and manipulation. But what made the man break down was when Alastor brought his daughter,Alice, to see him. Maurice fell on his knees while hugging your daughter who seemed clueless about what was happening. But Alastor only smirked at his daughter, for once she was useful.

The two men talked during the evening before Alastor brought Trey’ topic on the table. Maurice told Alastor that he was sure the man killed his only daughter, which Alastor confirmed. He said he was thinking the same, and was trying to find clues to put the bastard in jail. With sweet lies and fake sad expressions, Maurice said he would give him everything he owned if he managed to make Trey pay for his sins.

Who was the worst sinner, he wondered.

After that, Williams told him that Maurice changed his will, putting your and his names on it, even Alyzée’s. Maurice truly didn’t want anything to fall under the Felleur’s hands... Now, he needed to wait for Trey to make his move on Maurice.

Never being one to haste, Alastor asked Williams to keep an eye on Trey, and demanded the butler to tell everything that Trey had done and if he was interested in the headmasters of the Richemont’s family. He wasn’t surprised when Williams told him that Trey invited Maurice more often than usual for dinner.

So easy…

Now the plan was to wait for Trey to kill the man, so he could frame him easily. The man was becoming desperate about earning money, Alastor still didn't really know the reason , but who didn’t need money in this world?

Speaking about money, he needed to take care of John too. The man was playing poker every friday’s night in the bar Alastor’s father used to play. From what his shadow told him, he was losing more money than he gained, and from the look on the police officer’s face, he truly seemed…. like a mess. What was going on inside the little man’s heart..? He wouldn’t be surprised if you were still the reason that brought John’s heart and mind to break. You truly were the most delicious poison, weren’t you.

But if John truly was becoming such a mess, using him to make Trey fall would be a piece of cake. In one blow, he would get rid of Trey and John… And Maurice… But it was for the greater good. The man became a lost cause after Alice’s death… So why not reunite him with his late daughter? You see, he could be nice.

Now, he didn’t think you would be happy about Maurice’s death but it needed to happen. He wasn’t going to wait for another opportunity while he watched you fall into a perfect society’s product. You were his wife, not the society's. He didn’t care how the two of you were twisted, that’s how you decided to marry him, having a child would never change it.

Alastor blinked, realizing he spaced out in his radio booth. He looked at the clock and grinned when he saw that he stayed inside his head for two hours while doing his broadcast. He smirked and thanked every listener before ending his emissions.

Now, he had his plan. He just needed to share it with you while keeping some… details from you, his darling wife.

He lifted his head up as he laid back against his chair, he could feel your presence in the building. He turned his gaze toward the door, waiting patiently for you to come inside, blessing him with your radiance.

He dashed toward you as soon as you opened the door, took your face between his hands and kissed you until you felt like you were going to die from the lack of air. He let you go, making you gasp for air, and then dove into your neck, kissing it, biting it… He was going to have his wife back, the one he married, the woman who killed his father for him, the woman who asked him to go deeper in madness.

“ Al-Alastor.. what–”

“ I know. I found it.”

“ What?”

“ Trey Felleur, I know how to make him fall.”

Witnessing your reaction was making him lightheaded. You seemed to look at him, wishing it wasn’t a joke. You were begging him with your eyes, begging him to find a way that would make you take off your gentle mothered skin, your everyday lie, to go back to the real woman you were.

“ How..?”

“ We are going to use our dear John. I know from a very trustful source that Trey wants Richemont’s wealth, he needs it, it’s very important.” He said with his maniac smile. “ But guess who will earn all of it after Alice’s father dies?”

“ … his wife..?”

“ No, no darling. Us.” Alastor chuckled, how cute to think Maurice’s wife had weight in this story.

“ … You aren’t making any sense, Alastor–”

“ My Love, curse of my sanity, listen to me. Alice’s father, Maurice, changed his will, he thinks Trey is the one who killed his daughter. He came to me and I confirmed his suspicion. He then decided to give to Alyzée and us, all of the Richemont’s wealth.”

“ … But why?”

“ Well, our daughter was the key. I told him we named our daughter, Alice. I think he got emotional, I don’t understand it but he asked us to make Trey fall.” He smirked cunningly. He truly didn’t understand why naming his daughter Alice was made Maurice broke down, but he knew how to use it perfectly for his own advantage.

“ Okay… but how do we make him fall?”

“ Don’t you think Trey is going to try to make Maurice change his will, trying to make it seem like he didn't force the man to do it?” you nodded. “ Then, we will attack John. I will tell all of New Orleans on the radio that John killed my father because he owed him money, that is why he came so many times on my mother’s property: to hide the corpse.”

“ But why would John try–”

“ The Felleur are in need of money, dear.” He laughed, leaning back before pushing you against the wall, caging you between his hands. “ The stock market crash in 1929 destroyed them.”

That was why John was playing poker every Friday, trying to earn more money, over and over again…

“ Trey can not lose the Richemont’s wealth, so he will do anything to keep it under his control. But if we frame John as a killer, don’t you think people would look at Trey suspiciously. Alice’s killer wasn’t found, but it was John who was taking care of the case. Trey could have killed Alice for her wealth and then used John to make him innocent…”

You looked at Alastor like you could bite him so hard he would bleed so much. You were shaking with excitement. You brought your hand toward his face with a big smile. Alastor beamed as he saw your bloodlust gaze. Oh darling, how he missed you.

“ If we frame John for my father’s death, Trey would have to act, making him more capable of making a mistake. We could kill him and then mask it as a suicide.”

You kissed your husband so fiercely he groaned against your lips. You spined him around before pushing his back against the wall. You bit his lips then kissed them again while Alastor’s hands were already moving on your body.

His wife was finally back.

Few days after sharing his plan with you, Alastor asked the RicheMont’s butler to call during his radio podcast. He told him he needed him to ask about Trey Felleur’s implications in Alice Richemont’s death. What Alastor was trying to do was to provoke a reaction in Trey. He knew the man truly did love Alice, or at least, had strong feeling for her.

So, he needed to put doubt in people’s minds. He needed the people to look at Felleur's family with concern and suspicion. Trey would have to act one way or another. After all, the man was so full of himself, he wouldn’t accept being dragged into a scandal like this.

He kept talking with the people that called him until he finally recognised William’s voice. His smile widened as he played his part. The butler said that he was suspicious about the Felleur Family, saying that John Felleur was also working on Alice Richemont’s death, and yet nobody had found her killer, even after 5 years.

Alastor almost applauded the butler for his great acting. He managed to bring John in the débat, that was perfect. Finally this old man found his fighting spirit to bring down Trey.

Alastor kept his tone neutral, but kept asking questions for Williams to keep talking about his suspicions. Enough for his audience to begin to question the accusation, but not too much for it to be obvious.

He finished his work with a big smile. Every pawn was placing themself on his check board. How long since he felt so peaceful and excited about a new hunt.

He asked Victor not to touch the letter he was going to receive and not to lock his room. Most of the time, Victor would select the letters to give Alastor, which didn’t really bother the tan skinned man. But now, he needed to read everything. Maybe he would receive letters that would give him more clues about Trey.

When he came home, he kissed your forehead before petting Alice’s head. You seemed amused by his smile. You must have listened to his emission, like always. How loyal you were…

“ What an amazing show, right?”

You kissed him with a smirk as Alice ran to the kitchen, already sitting on her seat. You looked at your husband with a teasing smile which made him curious. You seemed like you knew more than you let on…

“ Yes, using Alice’s butler to not be the one to say the news was clever.”

You couldn't help but laugh when Alastor looked at you with a surprise expression.

You wouldn’t have recognised the man’s voice through the radio… would you?

” You recognised his voice?” Alastor asked with an amused smile. You winked at him before going into the kitchen. He chuckled while shaking his head. See? That’s what he adored with you, you kept surprising him, keeping him on his toes. Who could say the same?

As the Sanglar’s family sat on the table, you began to talk about how tomorrow was the day Alice had to come with him to work. It seemed like her school demanded that each child have a day at their parent’s workplace. He looked at his daughter who was buzzing with excitement.

” Really? I don’t think so…” He said with a mocking smile when he saw his daughter's face fall. He watched as she reached for his shirt, never touching his skin. He never taught her that he didn’t like to be touched, she just… did it on her own. He didn’t know why that affected him. Was it because he didn’t like to think that his daughter could read him? He didn’t know what he was feeling right now…

” But Dad, it’s the school’s project I told you about…” Alice whispered, her eyes getting teary. Alastor stared at her with his usual smile, if she thought he would stop being himself because she started crying, she should try again. But then you kicked him in the shin under the table, making him jump before looking at you.

“Of course, he didn’t forget Alice!”

”Yes, I just don’t want to.”

“So, tomorrow you will go with him for a full day!” You winked at your daughter who beamed at your words. She ran toward you and hugged your waist, squealing in delight. Alastor’s eyes widened when he saw his daughter stick his tongue at him. In that moment, he almost felt like he saw your younger self in Alice…

Strange, she wasn’t you after all.

” Why don’t you come too?” Alastor asked you, taking your hand in his. He still didn’t forget his promise, you would be the first guest in his emission. He never had one since he began, he didn’t need a guest. But… he wanted you to come, and take part in his broadcast. That was a promise he made you, more than ten years ago.. Have you forgotten about it, he wondered…

” Really? Can I? I know you prefer working alone…”

” Yes, alone, but with you.” Alastor stated. He truly wondered what was going into your mind. He liked being alone, of course, but it wouldn’t mean anything if you weren’t by his side. His soul was attached to yours, he would never be alone anymore.

” Mommy, I want to go to the lake!”

Alastor looked at his daughter who was holding Eamon against her body, never going anywhere without the precious voodoo's vessel of his bond with you. He smirked at the view, he was sure Alice’s would become someone in the spirit’s realm. She had to, he needed her to.

Pondering his daughter’s demand, he sighed before standing up, carrying you in his arms. After all, you had never learned to swim and he still remembers the time you almost drowned in the lake. That night was a memory he cherished… After all, you almost died, you almost abandoned him… but also, you decided that you would marry him after his father’s assassination.

Sweet memories.

As you came closer to the lake, Alastor took off his shoes and socks. He stepped into the water and raised his hand toward you. You took his hand and you came deeper into the water until the water touched your knees.

He turned his face toward Alice who was pointing to fishes that were swimming toward you, but not a single one came toward him. He smirked as he saw you trying not to move so you wouldn’t kick a fish by mistake.

He taught Alice how to swim, while you were resting at the edge of the lake. Your daughter was laughing as he kept a firm grasp on her waist. He truly didn’t want her to panic and move too much, she would soak his shirt.

And if that happened, he would let her fall in the water.

After an hour or so, he got bored, just like his daughter. He turned his face toward her. Maybe he could teach her something more useful..She looked up at him with a big smile.

” Dad, I want to learn to use your rifle like you!”

That was his brat.

” Of course.”

”Alastor, no!”

The next day, Alice and you were both dressed, ready to go to Alastor’s workplace. Alastor drove you to the radio booth, thinking about what his emission could be about. Once you entered the building, Alice ran toward Victor who couldn’t help but spin his daughter in the air. Maybe he could use Victor as a babysitter later…

He walked toward his studio and stopped when he saw that his door had been locked. He knew he had asked Victor to keep it opened, and he knew that the man listened to his every wish, which meant…

Somebody came in last night.

He entered the room and while he began his usual routine, his eyes were looking everywhere. He knew every position of every object in this room. And he could see that some object had been slightly moved. Which meant that the person who came didn’t want him to know they had been here. If it was Victor, the man wouldn’t have touched anything.

Who came? And what for?

He sat on his chair, hearing you saying to your daughter that you had to stay quiet while he was working. His eyes traveled toward the floor and his smile widened slightly as he saw something.

Under his table, there were many cables so everything would go smoothly, from his mic to his headphone… But there was a small one he didn’t recognise. He asked his shadow to see where the cable was going while he began his emission.

” Hello, New Orleans! I hope you're doing well, thank you for tuning in. I have my first and precious guest for today.”

Alastor gestured toward you with an amused smirk. You truly seemed shocked about his bold invitation. Did you really think he was going to let you all alone while he could do something with you?

’You little… What are you asking me to do?’

Come here.

Alice jumped off your knees, running toward him with a big smile. Alastor smirked widened as he saw the excited expression on his daughter. She was already approaching her face to the microphone, but waited for her father’s permission to speak.

“ My daughter Alice is here. Why don’t you say some words to all our dear listeners?”

As Alice greeted his audience, copying his greeting, his shadow whispered in his ears that the cables were linked to some kind of bomb. Alastor didn’t even flinch or lose his smile.

Trey finally made his move. But it hadn't detonated yet, which meant two things: There were precise hours where the bomb would go off or Trey could detonate whenever he wanted…

Well, he just needed to provoke the man a little more. He knew that the bastard was listening to his emission. And furthermore, he needed Alice to be here if the bomb detonated…

The man wouldn’t let this chance pass if he knew that right now, Alastor was with his daughter but also with you…He could kill the Sanglar family with one push on a button. He just needed to let him know.

” And, here is my darling wife.”

Alastor watched as you talked in his microphone while waiting for something. But nothing… Well, he just needed to do his emission like always while dropping clues that you would also be there for this evening’s broadcast.

Even if he was playing dangerous games, he couldn’t help but feel some kind of nostalgia as you talked with him, participating in his broadcast just like when you both were children. He asked you to sing, to participate in débat his listeners asked about.

Of course, some men asked you if you were single which made you laugh while he just smirked while answering politely that his wife had never been single since she met him.

Finally, around noon, he ended his broadcast while saying he would be back at 5 with his wife and daughter. He needed Trey to fall into his trap…Alastor left his room with Alice and you, but not before putting a piece of paper between the cables under the table. If someone touched this cable, the paper would fall, which would mean that someone came in for this.

He turned toward you after closing his door, not locking it. You looked like you had a grand time which made him proud.

” I told you, you would be my first guest on my broadcast.”

It seemed like you were being emotional because you hugged him while sniffling against his shoulder. You even kissed him, which made him smile against his lips. He kissed you back while cupping your face between his palms.

” Ew.”

Alastor looked at Alice who was grimacing at the scene. Alastor smirked at her, raising an eyebrow. Alice could be so touchy, affectionate but romantic gestures always made her cringe. How funny.

” Don’t look at us like that, brat.”

” Don’t do disgusting things then!”

After having a delicious meal in a restaurant, it was time for him to go back. You seemed surprised that he wanted to go back so early, after all his broadcast began only at 5pm. But Alastor needed to know if someone came back into his studio.

”I think I will do some shopping, I saw a few things that I want. Why don’t you go back with Alice? She will sleep soundly. I’ll join you just after.” You said to him.

He tilted his head while staring at you. You were lying, on your way to this restaurant, you didn’t stop one time to watch something that would peak at your curiosity. That meant that you wanted to do something he wouldn’t like…

”I’m a big girl.” You said with a smile.

” oh, I know. I expected to be ‘attacked’ by the Felleur because of my last broadcast. I talked badly about Trey and John and yet nothing happened.”

” That's why I want to go to the RicheMont’s mansion to find some clues.” you said, seemed sure of yourself.

Alastor smiled. If he thought about it, that was perfect for him too. He needed to do something he knew you wouldn’t like. He paid for the meal, kissed you on the forehead before going back to his studio.

When he came inside, he put Alice on a chair, before crouching under his desk and smirked when he saw that his paper was on the floor.

Someone did come in.

That was perfect. He was sure that if he turned on his mic, everything would explode . This was his indistinct talking of course, he wasn’t sure at 100%. But what would life become if he didn’t play a little with it?

He turned his face toward Alice who was wiping the saliva from her chin. He stood up before walking toward his daughter with a cold gaze. Now was the time to see if his plan worked.

Alice lifted her head up toward him with a big smile. She was already speaking excitedly about what she wanted to talk about during his show. He stopped her with his hand, putting his palm in front of her mouth.

She blinked at him while he stared at her. His eyes began to redden, which didn’t scare Alice. He crouched in front of her, locking his eyes in hers. The plan he wanted to put in motion was maybe the riskiest he ever did. If he failed, Alice would die but most importantly… His eyes dropped on Eamon that was in his daughter’s arms.

He might hurt the vessel of your bond.

But he needed to take this risk. For the future…

He stood up before walking toward his desk. The plan was simple.

Blow up the whole place.

He knew he wouldn’t die, but he needed to force Baron Samedi to make Alice his protégée… And what was better than almost getting killed to force the Baron’s hand. It would be perfect, the Loa would think that Trey tried to kill him and his daughter, he wouldn’t be able to stay neutral. He would try to help his daughter, he just knew it.

He sat on his chair before his desk as his daughter walked toward him, eyes full of trust. Should he feel bad for what he was going to do? Maybe, but he only felt excitement. He knew his plan was going to work.

He was going to force the one who reigned over death to protect his daughter, he was going to make Trey so annoyed that he didn’t manage to kill them, he was going to hold you after all this.

He was going to win because unlike all of them.

He wasn’t sloppy.

“ Alice, I’m counting on you.”

He turned on his mic and a huge explosion was the last thing he felt.

When he opened his eyes, he felt way too hot and he could feel blood dripping from his forehead. But as soon as his eyes focused, he saw your scared and relieved face staring back at him. He sat up quickly, catching you in his arms as you rushed into his embrace with your daughter in your arms.

What happened? Did Alice manage to do it? Or was it Eamon who protected his bond with you? He was sure he felt the bond in his unconscious mind…What happened..? Aah, his head was killing him.

He didn’t have the time to think further as a gunshot was heard behind his studio’s door. He was surprised to see Victor and John rushing inside his burning studio. He could see their mouths moving but he couldn’t hear anything.

It seemed like the explosion was bigger than he anticipated, he could feel bruises form on his body. But from the look of it, he was alive and so was Alice. She didn’t seem to have any injuries…

Did his plan work out?

Alastor groaned a little when he felt John and Victor helping him walk out of this burning hell. He was beginning to hear again, your pleas for him to stay conscious, John shouting at Victor to show them the way out.

So noisy…

He lifted his head up, his vision shaking. He could see the flames, the smoke… Was he in hell? The noises were drowning his senses, he could hear the panic in your voice, Alice’s cries.. The flames hurled his skin just like his father used to–

His eyes widened as he saw his father in front of him. He was standing in the fire, staring at him with one eye, the other one was in Alastor's possession. The man looked the same as the day you both killed him… He looked at Alastor with a smug expression, like he was waiting for his son to join him in the flames.

Alastor felt his blood boil. How dare this man mocked him. He was the one alive while this ghost who looked like his dead father was nothing more than a work of his damaged brain. He stared at the hallucination until he was out of the burning building.

Within a few seconds, he was taken away from you. He couldn’t see clearly but he could feel every touch on his body. The paramedics were asking him questions about the fire, how many minutes he was inside, if he could tell today’s date.

But it was too much for Alastor. Their touch felt like his father’s. He didn’t want to be touched. The only person that had the right to touch him, to heal him was his wife. He took a paramedic’s wrist in his hand, squeezing it so hard that the man shouted in pain.

” Don’t you dare touch me. Bring me my wife.” He spat, before laying back against the litter, his head throbbing way more than when he was in the building.

After being alone for a few seconds he finally heard your voice calling for him.

” Alastor…”

” My Love…”

He heard you sniffing and quickly put his hand on your cheek. He couldn’t open his eyes, they were hurting too much and… He felt like he would see his deceased father once more if he opened them. He just needed to feel your presence.

” You need to let them heal you…” You kissed his hand multiple times, he could feel the tears rolling on your cheeks until it died on his hand.

” Don’t let them touch me, my love… Don’t let them hurt me again.. Don’t let them separate us…”

He heard you sob at his words. You must have guessed that he was having one of his episodes. Every touch felt like knives digging into his skin, every sound pierced his brain, drowning every rational thought …He hated those moments, he felt weak, like his scars were being shown to everyone. No clothes could hide them.

” I promise, Alastor.”

” Where… Where is Alice?” he asked. He needed to be sure that Alice had become Baron Samedi's protégée, or if this was Eamon’s protection that saved them.

” She is with me…”

” This brat…” He closed his mouth, faking falling unconscious when he felt an unwelcome familiar presence. He managed not to lecture you when he felt you heal him, he needed to keep his act up.

”Mr.Felleur wants to talk to you, is it okay Mrs.Sanglar?” A man said.

He guessed you must have nodded because the man left. He waited patiently,his hand moving slowly under the cover the paramedics staff had put on him before looking for you.

Then he felt it, his presence.

“ Still alive, I see.”

Trey Felleur.

With his eyes closed, Alastor couldn’t see the scene that was happening, but he was hearing everything. He didn’t talk to you through telepathy, not wanting Trey to notice he wasn’t unconscious.

”You truly have a guardian angel with you, Mrs. Sanglar. You were supposed to die with your family because of the explosion.” Trey hummed as,Alastor guessed, the man sat in front of you. “ But then, I heard you went to my home and killed one of my maids.”

“ This isn’t your place, this mansion is under the name of the RicheMont, you sick bastard.”You spat at him with all the hatred you could conjure. “ And she killed herself after torturing the head of the family. It seems like justice will come for you…”

Ah-

Alastor didn’t plan that you would save Maurice. Well, he could still work with it, but with Maurice alive, it would be more difficult for him to do what he wished to do…

“ Oh yes, I guess Maurice would have wanted to bring me in front of Justice. The maid was hired by me after all… She must have told him everything !” He laughed with a fond smile. “ Unfortunately for you, I came with sad news. Maurice RicheMont died in the hospital.”

Alastor almost wanted to glee in joy. He needed to thank Trey for his idiocy.

“ You killed him…”

“ What made you think such a thing?” Trey asked. “ Now, I came here to talk.” The branch he was sitting on creaked, making Alastor think that the man had leaned toward you. “ How the fuck did you survived ?”

Alastor could feel that you were scared which wasn‘t surprising. Most of the time, when a well-mannered man loses his cool, it could be a terrifying spectacle. He was almost sad not to see Trey’s face.

‘My Love… Wake up…’

How he wished he could answer you, but he needed Trey to think you were all alone with him.

“ Ha-ha, eyes on me.” Trey said,“ Good. So, how did you survive?”

“ Why would I answer a murderer ?”

“ Because we are the same.”

“ Don’t fuck with me !” You shouted, strongly. “ We are nothing alike, I don’t kill innocents.”

“ I don't either. If you are talking about Alice, you knew she wasn't innocent. The Richemont have their one elite killer, Alice wasn’t innocent. If you weren't a friend, maybe you would have killed her.”

Alastor knew you were going to hold too much meaning to Trey’s words. Who cared about what this man thought?

“ You named her Alice, right?” Trey said as he leaned back. “ How cute… “

“ Don’t look at her, you pervert.” You spat, the wind around you moving at your will.

“ Hum? Oh, that’s what is interesting you see. I can’t see her.” He said, “ If you remember our last conversation, I had told you that I couldn’t spy on you anymore because your powers… or should I say spirits, are hiding you from my eyes..” He lifted his head to look at you with a gold eyed gaze.

You gulped, moving your hand subtly toward Alastor’s hand. You were getting more scared as the seconds passed, he could feel it.

“ Well, it is the same with your sweet child. I can’t see her.” He spat at you before standing up. What did it mean? If Trey couldn’t spy on you and him because of the Loa, did it mean that his plan worked.. Or was it.. that Alice had always been a Loa's protégée?

“ I won’t repeat it anymore. How did you survive?”

Time’s up.

In less than a second, Alastor drew his knife before plugging it deep into Trey’s forearm as their man tried to strangle you.

“ Alastor!”

You looked at your husband who was awake and had his blade deep inside Trey’s flesh. His eyes were red and he had his usual smile that made you relax.

“ Ahh, the Felleur really live to touch women that don’t want them, huh?”

Alastor noticed Trey’s face wincing at his words. Was he hurt that he had married a woman who never loved him? How funny.

“ Alastor Sanglar, and here I was hoping you would die today.”

“ I choose my own death, thank you.”

Alastor took his blade from Trey’s arm and the man stepped back. He was looking at you then Alastor, putting his polite smile back. Alastor was standing in front of you, his smile never leaving his lips which seemed to upset Trey.

“ Mrs. Sanglar, are you oka–”

You turned your eyes toward John who opened the door. He stared at Alastor and Trey, perhaps he was wondering which one was the worst to work with.

“ Trey… What are you doing here?” John asked, his voice calm. Treys smiled at him while hiding his bleeding arm from his cousin. Why was he hiding his arm..? It didn't make any sense…

“ Well, when I heard the explosion I had to check if you needed help. I knew you would come here to save as many people as you could, you always have been like that.” Trey patted his shoulder before leaving the vehicle. “ See you soon.”

John looked at you and Alastor before closing the door once more. You sighed but then you felt Alastor’s on your wrist.

“ You healed me… again..”

“ Yes–”

“ Why would you put yourself in such danger? You know I always have a plan.” He said, his grip getting stronger on your wrist. He was always in control… More or less. Couldn't you stop putting yourself in danger? You looked at him with a soft smile, your hand moving slowly to cup his cheek.” Where are you hurt? Are you burned somewhere ?”

“ Alastor, do you know why I’m okay?” You smiled at him when you saw the confusion in his eyes. His eyes were looking at your body, you had small bruises that were slowly disappearing but nothing life-threatening. “ Our little Alice saved you.”

“ She what?”

You explained everything to him, from the mansion’s crime to Trey’s arrival. You never let go of his hand, you tried touching his cheek once more but when you saw him flinch you decided to keep his hand in yours and not touch him until he asked. There was a lot of information he needed to absorb and your touch would be a distraction.

“ I see…” Alastor said, observing Alice. “ Purple energy, huh? Doesn’t it ring a bell for you?” He asked as you tilted your head, confused. Alastor smiled at your expression, you could be so naive sometimes. “ Purple is Baron Samedi’s color, don't you remember ? Your eyes are slightly purple when you are healing me.”

“ You… Wait, Alice made a deal with Baron Samedi?” You asked, not knowing if you

were supposed to be happy or scared.

“ No, I just think she is to be Baron Samedi’s protégée.” Alastor said as he sat down next to you.” Who would have thought Alice would have power so soon..” He whispered, rubbing his chin. He needed to talk with the Loa as soon as possible and he needed to use his soul trapping cane for someone…

You gently moved your hand from Alastor’s hand toward his wrist, when you noticed he wasn’t flinching you cup his cheek once more. He turned his face toward you with a fond smile.

“ I was so scared, Alastor…”

Alastor stared at you and took Alice from your arms before laying her down on the litter, then he tugged you against his torso. You closed your eyes as you grabbed his shirt, trying to contain your emotion. He didn’t expect you to be so upset about it. Didn’t you trust him?

“ Why were you scared ? Did you really think I was going to die?” He scoffed at you, running his finger into your hair.

“ The fire was so…”

“ Darling, curse of my sanity… I knew something was up before the explosion.” He said as you lifted your head toward him, ready to ask for answers. “ I know how I left my office, by heart. I knew someone entered my studio…”

“ So… You stayed there..?” You stared at him, confused. He could see the beginning of anger seeping through your form. How delectable you were when you were angry.

“ Yes.” Alastor stared at you with a fond smile as he stared at the wind around you moving with your emotion. “ You trust me, dear, right?”

“ Yes, I trust you.” You whispered. Your husband smiled at you before leaning toward you, kissing your lips with a twisted smile. He adored you, as an innocent victim of his twisted game or a devilish killing partner … He didn’t think he could live without you.

But would you be able to?

That question was haunting his mind for the next few days. He was trying to keep his cool but he needed to have a conversation with you quickly. But he couldn’t have this important discussion while you were sick.

After Trey’s attempt on his life, you got sick.

He sighed as he rubbed his nose while Alice was running in your bedroom for the fourth time in the span of five minutes. He wondered how you could be so patient with her… Maybe you learned to be patient with him? How funny…

After the fire, you both asked for Papa Legba and Baron Samedi to come to you. You were being your usual polite self while Alastor was trying to keep his thoughts in check. He truly needed his daughter to be under Death's Loa’s protection.

But of course, Baron Samedi was checky. As Alastor demanded explanation, the God of Death just snickered at him, saying he had no obligation to answer to him. After all, Alastor didn’t make a deal with Death, you did.

“ Maybe you don’t have any obligations to me, but to my daughter? I think you do.” Alastor said calmly. He turned his eyes toward his daughter who was looking at him curiously. He knew Alice was the key to having the Baron at his mercy. Alice needed to become the Loa’s protégée.

As soon as Alastor noticed you staring off, he approached the Baron with his usual calm smile. The Loa smirked at him as he smoked his cigar, Papa Legba sitting silently on a chair in front of you.

“ You seemed so sure of yourself, Alastor. Did you forget who you are dealing with?” Baron Samedi smirked, snickering as he lifted his eyebrow at Alastor. The tan skinned man tilted his head to the side.

” I am aware of every living being playing in my game. But I don’t like when some of them stay hidden.” Alastor stated, locking his gaze into the Loa’s. If you really had seen purple energy around Alice when she had created her shield, it could only mean one thing: The Baron wasn’t as neutral in this game of his as he let on. And if he became an active player, he needed him by side. And furthermore…

Baron Samedi could have been the one to send the ghost of his dead father when you were helping him escape the burning building. He still thought it was a hallucination, but how could he be so sure now that he had proof that the God of Death knew more than he let on.

You had access to Baron Samedi’s power, he gave you the power to heal, even if you had to take the injuries yourself, it was still a gift from the Death’s God. He never entirely trusted the Baron, but he thought that the Loa wasn’t going to interfere much after giving you a part of his power. How stupid of him…

Since you and Alastor bond your souls together, Baron Samedi was already in the game, but he didn’t pick a side…yet.

The Baron stared at Alastor while blowing the smoke away. It seemed like the Loa was pondering multiple options but a small voice broke the tense atmosphere.

” Mommy, it smells bad.”

Every eyes fell upon Alice who, after you asked her to show where it was smelling, walked toward him, demanding that she shut his mouth because she couldn’t concentrate on the scent. How bold of her…

” Alice, what did I tell you? When I seem to be talking alone, you don’t talk.” Alastor sighed, shaking his head but let her behaviour slide.

“ But Dad! It smells…bad! Like ... .Like when we were in the fire but worse!” She claimed, pouting as she crossed her arms on her chest. Alastor raised an eyebrow before his eyes fell on Baron Samedi’s cigar.

He peeked at you and almost laughed when he saw your concerned expression. He was sure you were worried that Alice was… traumatised about the fire and that was why she smelled it now. But he was sure about something else.. And if Alice confirmed it right now… He would have Baron Samedi on his side. He raised his hand toward you to ask you to keep silent.

” Where does it smell, Alice?”

Alastor tried to keep his face neutral as he felt his blood boil with excitement as his daughter pointed toward Baron Samedi’s cigar. She couldn’t see him, but she could perceive him through the scent… Could she maybe hear him..?

” Baron Samedi, please, explain yourself.” You demanded with such dominance that he almost wished he could applaud who you stood tall in front of the Death’s keeper’s God.

” Well… I’m as surprised as you…” He crouched in front of Alice who pinched her own nose at the smell.” I thought she would be able to see me now.”

Alastor turned his head toward Papa Legba who stood up and tapped his cane on the floor. Alice turned her attention toward the noise before rushing in your arms. Alastor hid his smirk behind his hand as he tried to make it seem like he was confused.

Everything was going smoothly….

“ I see you are full of questions, little lady. Alice seems to be very sensitive to spiritual energy…” said Legba with his usual tender smile, full of knowledge.

“ Can Alice really feel the spirit around her..? Then why can she play with my and Alastor’s shadow ..?” You asked, trying to calm your daughter that was trying to get your attention, pointing to where she heard the noise.

“ Well, my dear. Look at her parents.” Alastor claimed, with a proud smirk. You shook your head with a small grin. He truly was curious about how you didn’t think about this possibility.

“ But what I want to know is, why Baron Samedi..? Why didn't Kalfu or you, Papa Legba, were the one to reach her?”

“ Well, if we resume everything. Alastor, your blood is powerful, Voodoo has always been in your reach, it always has been in your life thanks to your mother. You tainted your wife’s blood with yours, making her able to see spirits and even to work with them.” Papa Legba recounted, his hand pointing toward you. “ Then, you bound yourself together, into the spiritual realm…the vessel being a deer plushie… A plushie your daughter never let go off.”

You peeked at Alice who had calmed down, her eyes were staring at Papa Legba’s position but you and Alastor could feel she wasn’t seeing anything. She was mostly trying to see who you were talking to.

“ Alastor, you made a deal to kill, so you could be stronger. Your wife has made a deal with Death to protect you. You named your daughter after a brutally deceased friend. Death has always been around you, so , wouldn't it be logical for your daughter to be close to Death too..? Now, the real question is: Is Alice protected by Death..? Or cursed by it?”

Alastor looked at your pale face, he could guess you were pondering so many questions and most of all, you felt betrayed by Baron Samedi. You didn’t truly think that all those Loa could be trusted…right? He sent his thoughts inside your mind, talking through telepathy.

Dear, since when has Death been on our side?

‘But he protected her when I was pregnant !’

Don’t trust him so easily. Don’t think Death is on our side, he might have saved our daughter, but he didn’t save your friend, didn’t he? Always doubt people’s will.

He stared at your face as you, he guessed, began to rethink your view with Baron Samedi’s “friendship”. You were so naive, but it was endearing. So cute of you to think Death could be seen as a friend…

Alastor could feel the Loa’s focus on you before he spoke.

” I won’t hurt your daughter, little doll.”

Interesting… So the God who ruled over Death didn’t want to be hated by you? But he didn’t say he wouldn’t hurt you.

“ Don’t think too hard, I’m just amused by the situation. I don’t remember the last time a child was able to use some of my powers without me being summoned. “ The Baron smirked, going closer to Alice whose eyes turned toward the Loa. “ Now, this little genius should learn how to control her powers! Imagine if she used her powers at school, how dangerous… Actually, let’s just do that!”

After this discussion, you got sick for the next few days. Alastor demanded that you stay in bed, and thanks to him and his brat, you didn't argue against them.

He was sitting on the couch, as Alice was upstairs with you while his twisted mind was running for new solutions. First of all, Alice wasn't Baron Samedi’s protégée yet, but he couldn’t put her life at risk again. If the Loa discovered that Alastor forced his hand, it wouldn’t end greatly for him. Second of all, he was missing part of the puzzle.

And he knew who had all those details.

Alice Richemont.

He needed to reach her soul to ask her what Trey is after. Alastor was sure that the Richemont’s wealth was just an excuse for Trey, nothing more. You and him had no clue about what happened that fateful night. All he knew was that Trey had killed Alice and her baby… But why? Was it really just because Alice was in love with another woman?

No… Trey wasn’t that kind of psychopath… Or was he?

Alastor sighed as he looked at his hand. How could he reach someone's soul..? He snapped his fingers and his red cane appeared in his hand. He spun it multiple times in his hand as he pondered.

That cane can cage souls… But maybe he could try to cage Alice’s soul so she could tell him what he needed to know. He stood up, his smile more calm than usual. Was he going to lose one year of his life if he trapped Alice’s soul?

You would also lose one year from your lifespan…

” Kalfu… How can I trap a soul from a deceased person?”

” You are finally asking me, Alastor. I was waiting…”

Alastor turned to the Loa in front of him. Kalfu was looking at him mockingly, his arms crossed against his torso with his back against the wall. He looked around before walking toward him, whispering in his ears, making Alastor flinch a bit.

“ You need to ask the one who deals with Death..But let me tell you something I know. Alice’s soul is bound to Lucifer, which means that she isn’t with our dear Baron Samedi…” Kalfu snickered.

Alastor’s smile tensed at those words. All this for that? Kalfu was truly playing with him. The Loa never tried to help him, he was letting him do what he wanted, as long as he had a sacrifice in the end.

” Oh, and a Loa such as you can’t tell me how to do it. What a shame.” Alastor mocked as Kalfu stood up, taller than him.

” Hoho, how funny. I told you, didn’t I? This cane is from Baron Samedi, I ’borrowed’ it from him… So, I don’t know how it works… But I can tell you this: If you want to talk to a soul that has been claimed, your soul also needs to belong to someone.”

Alastor looked at the cane, his mile turning into a grimace. If he wanted to reach the Richemont’s only daughter’s soul, he had to give his soul to someone?

No way in hell.

He made the cane disappear as Kalfu evaporated in the air, his laugh echoing around Alastor.

“ Fuck…”

Alastor Sighed, feeling a headache coming. His cane was useless… How could such great power be unusable. It felt like having a gun at someone’s forehead, but if he fired it, the bullet could come back at him. The risk wasn’t worth the reward…

Alastor went outside, he needed to find another solution… He walked toward the lake and looked at his reflection in the water.

Let’s begin again, what did he know?

First option, he knew that if he wanted to reach Alice Richemont’s soul, he needed to have his soul chained to someone which he would never do. Second option, he needed to ask Baron Samedi, but the Loa didn’t even have Alice’s soul, because her soul belonged to Lucifer… But Kalfu didn’t say that the Baron couldn’t reach her;.. he only said that her soul wasn’t with him.

Alastor’s eyes widened slightly as his thoughts began to race in his mind.

If, hypothetically, Baron Samedi could still reach Alice’s soul, it might demand a lot of strength and he was sure the Loa wouldn’t go to such length for him. Maybe he would do this for you..?

Alastor didn’t like the idea of asking for help. Couldn’t he have a foot in the death realm without passing through Baron Samedi…

” Alice, you are so bothersome…” Alastor sighed before freezing.

Alice…

His daughter, Alice, had power from Baron Samedi without even summoning him. His daughter could, perhaps, reach souls just like Baron Samedi. And if she managed to have this power, he wouldn’t need Baron Samedi’s permission. And furthermore, if Alice managed this, the Loa would certainly take her as his protégée.

Alastor laughed maniacally as he sent his shadow to you and Alice. The thrill he was feeling was making him dizzy. He was so close to ending all of this, he felt it.

He stopped laughing, putting on a nice smile before waiting for you and Alice. His smile widened when you approached with Alice in your arms. He needed Alice to be stronger.

” Ah, there you are. Darling, what don’t you let Alice down for a bit?”

You tilted your head but did as you were told. Alice ran toward her father who patted her head three times. You walked toward your husband who kissed your forehead. He could feel your body relaxing as his lips touched your forehead.

What kind of odd thoughts were swirling in your little mind, he wondered.

“ Today, we’ll start Alice’s training.” Alastor whispered in your eyes, his voice deep and smooth. ” Now, Alice! Do you want to know my and your mother’s secret?”

“ I already know!” Your daughter claimed which made Alastor raise an eyebrow, smiling down at her. “ Always smile and wear red ! “

You laughed out loud while Alastor chuckled. Is that how Alice saw you? Two people who always smiled and wore red? Funny thought…

“ Not quite, but close enough. I have three rules I have taught your mother, do you want to know them?” Alastor asked and grinned when Alice nodded furiously. “ The first rule..”

As Alastor taught Alice his three rules, he smirked as she eagerly repeated them. Well, maybe it was going to be easier than he first thought.

“ Now…” Alastor’s eyes turned red. “ Do you see my shadow ?”

“ Shadie? Yes, I see him.” She nodded, waving at the shadow which waved back. Alastor rolled his eyes when he heard the shadow’s name, it seemed to like it.

“ Try to create a shield so he can’t touch you.” Alastor said, crossing his arms on his chest.

You stood up and walked toward your daughter, kneeling next to her.

“ Do you remember what I told you? When you are feeling overwhelmed ?” You waited for her to nod. “ Then, let’s imagine, Shadie..? Shadie was being mean, so you want to be alone a little bit.” You raised your hand in front of you, your daughter mimicked you. “ Now, imagine a shield around you.”

You smiled as Alice closed her eyes, frowning very hard, trying so hard to material a shield but without any success. She opened her eyes and looked at you sadly. You smiled at her, kissing her cheek, whispering sweet reassurance.

“ Can Eamon help me..?”

You tilted your head but nodded. You walked back inside the house, letting Alice with her father. Alastor was wondering if having Eamon with her would truly help. He needed her to use Baron Samedi’s power only, not… Not the mixed powers that were inside of the plushie.

Alastor sighed before kneeling in front of his daughter. He remembered the first time you used your power, and you didn’t even have the blood to use those. Alice was the mix of the two of you, she was going to succeed, he knew it. She just needed… a little push.

” Here Alice, when your mother first tried to raise a shield, her hands were like this.”

You walked back toward your little family while he was teaching Alice. Once she had Eamont in her arms, she raised her hand again in front of her. Alastor took a step back, as you did. He could feel that this time, it was going to be different…

But nothing, Alice had her hand drown, her head looking at the ground with her long hair hiding her face. Something was going on… He made you approach Alice, after all, maybe being near you would make Alice feel connected to the power you both shared.

” It’s okay, baby. Mommy did it when she was older, you know?” You reassured your daughter. He stared at the scene as you flinched as you touched your daughter’s skin. “ Alice?”

Alastor’s eyes widened as he saw Alice raising her head, big purple eyes staring at you. She went into your arms as Alastor came closer, he could feel his skin tingled at what he witnessed.

“I’m scared… It’s cold… My eyes are like ice…” Alice mumbled, squeezing Eamon against her.

Alastor kneeled next to you. From what he knew, when you were using the Baron’s powers, your skin was always colder than usual, unlike when you worked with Papa Legba. That meant Alice was the key to his plan.. He needed her to be stronger, so he could reach the soul he needed to…

Alastor patted his daughter’s head.

” This world is dangerous, Alice, because people like us exist.” Alastor stated staring at his daughter. He titled his head with an amused expression, curious about what his daughter could see right now. “ What do you see? Come on, tell me.”

” But I’m scared.”

” Scared? Why would you? Your mother and I are here? What could happen?” he asked, curious. Why would she be scared ? She had powers, she could protect herself at such a young age. He never had this chance…

As Alice began to be curious about her new eyes, you turned your eyes toward him and asked.

” So, what do we do about John?”

You had explained everything to him. About how John came to the Richemont’s estate when you were fighting a maid who was torturing Maurice. How he said that he would help you put Trey in jail. He had asked you to give him time, because he had too many things to process. But it seemed like you wanted an answer right now.

” Well, What about him? Don’t you want to kill him dear? Or did you change your judgment because he was nice with you?” He tilted his head toward you with a menacing smile. “ Because he plays the role of the prince, the same prince you used to read when you were younger? Fighting his own family for a dame?”

He knew that sometimes, you were wondering if being normal would be better. And he was scared that one day, you decided that you wanted to be a normal, boring person and give up on everything the two of you builded, in this world and the spiritual realm.

This thought was terrifying. Because he couldn’t be normal… for too long. He played his part of being a father, with his own knowledge. But he never said that for you he would be normal… That wasn’t him. that would never be.

So, now that John was maturing and seemed like the prince that would come to save you, fighting his twisted cousin and showing you how morally nice he was, were you going to give up on him?

No, he knew you wouldn’t. You were less mad then him, but still twisted.

What was bothering him, was that you would lie to yourself. He knew that in some part of your mind, you were thinking of a normal life. Not even for yourself, but for your daughter. He could see doubts creeping into your mind when you thought he wasn’t watching.

He knew who you were, he knew who you were going to become… Why were you so afraid of it?

” Alastor, what are you talking about?”

” Do you really think John is going to betray Trey?”

” It’s just… I can feel it, Alastor. John doesn’t know about Trey’s sins.”

”Mnhn… Then, I’ll tell you what I know. John will never stop being in love with you. If you want to use him to bring Trey down, then I’m all ears my dear. But I know you, oh, I know you. I know your deeper fears, your deeper desires…” He leaned toward you and whispered in your ears. “ You want your happy ending from your books.”

You gasped, stepping back. You felt anger inside of you while Alastor was staring at you with a big smile.

“ John isn’t my happy ending!”

“ I know, dear. But, I feel like you want that fairy tale ending and you know… I can’t give you that… Oh well, I could.” He kissed the back of your hand, staring into your eyes with that obsession he knew you always craved. “ Say it, dear. And I shall be the perfect boring gentleman and give you that happy sappy bland ending.”

He could see you imagining that life for a moment. That tasteless life, where your only problems would be to make sure he had a nice warm dinner when he came back from work. Long gone would be the bloodlust, the loas, the excitement of discovering new powers….

“ If I asked for that life, kill me.”

Alastor's eyes widened, his grip on your hand getting tighter. You could see his eyes staring at you, mostly trying to see if you were serious. He leaned toward your face.

“ Really..? Would you let me kill you?” He whispered, his voice shaking with desire. Were you so crazy that you told a thirsty killer that you wished he killed you? You grasped his tie and forced his lips against yours, moaning in relief at the feeling of this desperate, dark and twisted kiss.

“ Yes.”

After this, Alastor began to train Alice every afternoon. Of course you were there to make sure he wasn’t working her too hard. Alice seemed to learn quickly, way too quickly. You were worried but Alastor wasn’t. Still he never asked her to do anything more than use her eyes. She could see things when her eyes seemed to be possessed by Baron Samedi’s powers, she would point at something near the forest and when you walked over, it would be the corpse of an animal.

You both guessed that she could see the spirit of animals, if they recently died. Alastor and you couldn’t be capable of such talents. While he was training Alice, like he could, he also tried to find other ways to reach for souls that were owned by entities . He read many books, but nothing came out with clear answers. He truly needed Alice to become stronger.

But of course, she was still a child with a power too strong for her.

The following nights, Alice would wake up by screaming in fear. Alastor and you would rush inside the room and she would talk about how the dead animals wanted to eat her, or come close to her.

She would sleep in your bed, almost every night but you And Alastor could see she was becoming more tired as days passed by. The nightmares were restless, and your daughter was becoming weaker as day went by.

Alastor would look at his daughter with a strange feeling he couldn’t name. Was he affected because seeing his daughter getting weaker was slowing his plan? Yes, that must be it.

You were at home, baking your daughter’s favorite dessert, as she was at school, when the phone rang. You wiped your head full of flour before answering the phone.

“ Mrs. Sanglar? This is Gwen, Alice’s teacher. I’m calling because Alice fought against one classmate, could you come here around 4pm?”

You looked at Alastor who was leaning on the wall, next to you. You were dumbfounded which almost made Alastor laugh. Did you truly think Alice didn’t have any violence inside her? He took the phone from you before talking to the teacher.

“ We are coming right now.”

As soon as you entered the school, you hasted toward the director’s office. You knocked and entered the room where Alice and another boy were sitting, their head down. Alastor walked toward your daughter and put his hand on her shoulder.

“ Now, what do we have here?”

You kneeled next to your daughter as the director said that he was waiting for the boy’s parents to come. You stroke her cheek with a reassuring smile.

“ What happened, baby?”

“ I’m so tired mommy… Everything seems too loud… when… When someone touches me… It feels like.. It stings…I don’t want them to be near me… It’s too much..” She mumbled, her eyes becoming watery. You hugged her, carrying her in your arms.

Alastor was looking at his daughter, her words echoing in his mind. The feeling of other people’s touch on his skin could make him feel like this… Sometimes, he wondered how much of him, his daughter took.

He turned his head toward the boy, smiling like usual.

“ Little boy, do you want to explain why you fought against a girl?”

“ I’m sorry sir.. I just wanted to play with her… But then, she pushed me so hard without using her hands, I saw it! She was being weird ! Talking alone ! Looking where nobody was there! …She freaks me out…”

Alastor almost rolled his eyes at the boy, what a boring answer. If he managed to bring his daughter in that state, he should have a better story to share. How boring, how could his daughter be impacted by this fella…. They were all children, he was just scared of the unknown.

“ May we go? Alice has been having nightmares, which explain why she is so tense and prone to violence. It won’t happen again.” You smiled to the director who didn’t acknowledge you, he turned his face toward your husband.

“ Sir, I think–”

“ Did you just ignore my wife?”

The temperature dropped, making everyone freeze. You turned your eyes toward your husband who was smiling at the man, teeth bared. The poor man was trembling, shaking his head.

Did this poor excuse of a man ignore you? Alastor was wondering if today was a day to celebrate people's idiocy because two idiots in less than 2 minutes was almost too much for him.

“ Remember, your son is still working for me.” Alastor whispered in his ear before leaning back. He smirked as the director paled. “ Now, since everything is settled, we might go on our merry way. Have a nice day, gentlemen !”

Alastor guided toward the exit before driving you back home. Alice was in your arms.

“ Am I in trouble..?”

“ Why would you be?” Alastor asked, with an amused smile.

“ I… I pushed the boy… I did what mommy told me when I’m feeling overw…ower…”

“ Overwhelmed?”

“ Yes, that.” She said,

Alastor just snickered at that but didn’t ask for more. Well, he needed to make sure Alice stayed low for now. He would have guessed that Baron Samedi would come to help Alice if she ever made a mistake with her powers in public… But it seemed like the Loa wasn’t that active with the living being… even those who had his powers…

Once you were home, you put her in your bed while Alastor went into his study. He sighed, he knew he couldn’t put Alice in any more danger… He would have to do it himself. But how?

He lifted his head when he felt your soul leaving your body. What were you doing…? Alastor came into the living room, sitting next to you, making sure your body wouldn’t hurt itself.

“ Dear, I guessed you felt something ?” He watched toward your direction without seeing you. He knew you were more sensitive to energy than him, so he didn’t ask any more questions and let your soul roam into the house, waiting for you to return.

But after a few seconds, hell broke loose.

Alice woke up screaming while you were being tugged back in your body. Alastor took your face between his hands, his gaze serious.

“ What did you see?”

You were breathing hard, not being able to speak. You shook your head and pointed toward the door before running toward your bedroom where Alice was crying. Alastor stood up quickly and went to the door, his eyes flashing red.

What did you see that made you react like this?

He looked at the door, opening it and observed it.

Nothing…

Alastor lifted his head up before freezing.

A human eyeball was dangling from the porch, just above the door. And he knew whose eyes it was. He remembered staring at it when he was younger, he remembered staring at it while wishing for the man that wore it to drop dead.

He took the eye, observing it carefully.

It definitely belonged to his father.

No doubts.

Alastor went back inside and came toward you with a sinister look even though his smile was still present. You stared at him, hiding Alice’s face against your chest.

“ Did you find it ?”

Alastor nodded before walking toward you, opening his palm. You stared at the eye and Alastor knew from your face that you already guessed who it belonged to.

“ I think we know who this belongs to.” He whispered.

Even if he was calm, he knew he was shaken. His gaze wasn’t leaving the eye. After more than ten years, the past was coming back to haunt him… Why now? Was Baron Samedi playing a trick on him? Was it Trey’s new plan to mess with him? He didn't feel any energy so maybe it was John?

“ Your father’s.” You whispered.

He only nodded, before sighing. He shook his head, mumbling without you understanding anything. He was thinking too fast for himself, not being sure about what thought was his and the others were just paranoid non sensed thoughts.

“ What did you dream about my baby?” You tried to smile at her while Alastor tried not to roll his eyes at you. Really? Was Alice’s nightmare more important than the eyes you found?

“ A man was staring at me… With one eye missing.”

Alastor’s head snapped toward Alice while you froze, feeling a shiver in your whole body. He kneeled in front of her, his gaze fixated on her expression.

“ What did he look like?”

“ I don’t know… I didn’t want to watch him..?” She sniffed.

Alastor tried not to put too much pressure on Alice, he knew you wouldn’t like it… But for fuck’s sake, if his daughter truly saw his late father… Then he truly wasn’t expecting her to be this powerful…or maybe she wasn’t being the one getting stronger.

He thought that the way to death was one way only. Alice was supposed to be the one reaching for the dead, not the other way around… If her mind was open, how many other of his victims could come to haunt his daughter because she became some kind of portals between the two worlds. Maybe strong spirits that were roaming earth could force Alice to interact with them.

“ Alastor… She dreamed of him. Don’t you remember, sometimes, Papa Legba would take my soul to show me something important ? Maybe the Baron did the same thing.” You said, with a soft smile even if you were shaken by this revelation. Legba always told you he would use your dream to give you information, did Baron Samedi do the same thing? But why? It didn’t seem like his usual way of doing things.

“ Yes… Maybe she was being warned, like you.” He sighed, his hand going through his hair. “ Does that mean someone has already found my father’s corpse?”

It couldn’t be, he changed the location of his father's corpse many times and now, the man was just bones, who could someone recognize him like this? Did someone follow him when he moved his father’s remains? How could that happen without Alastor noticing? It must have been Trey, the man was the only pawn in his game that he couldn’t control or understand fully…

In the deafening silence, you could only hear Alice's little voice.

“ I wasn't sleeping.”

After Alice’s last nightmare, Alastor began to be more restless. You were having nightmares too and he couldn’t sleep more than two hours each night. He would always wake up at each movement you were doing, making sure nothing spiritual was happening in the house before reassuring you that everything was under control.

Which was almost a lie.

He could see how your thoughts were swirling inside your head, you were more and more affected by all of this. In a way, it was making him remember how you felt the night before you both killed his father. Why did this bastard have to come back in his life although the man was dead and buried.

He couldn’t use Alice anymore, not because he was affected by how weak she was, but because the brat started talking with an imaginary friend.

It seemed like madness was running deep in her genes, thanks to you… and maybe him too.

Furthermore, the fact that his father’s ghost came back meant one thing, Baron Samedi wasn’t an ally. He was sure the Loa sent the man’s ghost to his daughter, but why for? Did the Baron finally notice Alastor’s plan to make Alice his protegee? Was that some kind of revenge?

He truly didn’t have any choice now, he needed to talk to his dead old ally’s soul. But how ? He needed to do this without his daughter, without Baron Samedi… But he would never give his soul to someone else, so how would he reach Maruice Richemont's daughter..?

You were talking to him but he wasn’t focused on your words, he just told you to stop worrying your pretty little head, he was going to control the situation, he was going to control everything, he was going to show you he was able to protect you, he was going too–

“ Alastor… I think… we should make a reunion with the people… who want to destroy Trey.”

Alastor focused on you as soon as those disgusting words left your pretty lips. The nightmares must have been taking a toll on you for his dear wife to say such bullshit. He smiled, like usual as he turned completely toward you, leaning toward your face.

“ You and me. There, we can have our little reunion. Should I raise my hand to speak?” He teased you, his hands moving toward your cheeks to force you to meet his gaze. You rolled your eyes at him with a little chuckle. You always loved it when he was teasing you, most of the time he knew that he could avoid some discussion with it… But he could see that you didn’t want to back down from your silly idea.

“ No. I’m talking about Williams, Alyzée… “

“ Dear, are you asking others for help?”

Alastor stared at you, smiling as usual but his thoughts were nothing like his calm attitude. His mind was racing with devilish thoughts.

You were asking others for help.

You thought he wasn’t able to help you, to save you. Why? Just because something new happened? Well, you just needed to trust him like always and let him find a way of understanding what was going on. Fear was clouding your judgment, you were scared for Alice, scared for him but also scared for your life right now.

“ Well… I told you that John was–”

“ Aah.. His name coming from your pretty lips is really annoying. What? Do you truly think John will be on our side because..?” He tilted his head toward you with a mocking and vicious smile on his lips.

He couldn’t help but hate how often you mentioned JOhn those last few days. Now that the policeman decided to side with you, you were asking him about how the officer could help you to trap Trey. How naive could you be? John might try to arrest Trey, only if he wins something. from it. If he arrested his own family, who would claim their last richness? Of course it was going to be John.“ Are you forgetting my dear? He is our next target. Our next kill.”

“ Alastor, I’m not trying to save him from us. But imagine, he helps us get rid of Trey and then we can kill him while disguising it as a suicide. We could manipulate the press thanks to Alzyée saying he self-destructed himself because he had to kill one of his family’s members.”

Alastor stared at you as you put your hand on your lips. His blood was boiling as his mind recalled your words.

Usually, he was the one making plans and you would follow without asking too many questions, after all, his orders were always perfect.

But today, you showed him how intelligent you could be while picturing a way of killing someone. How to use someone’s death for your own benefit.

See? You were never made to be a boring, normal person.

You were meant to be free, powerful, proud. No cage should take away your capacities of flying away from moral codes.

The day you decide that you want to stop everything because you are sate, this will be the day he will stop as well. Because he knew you wouldn’t be lying to yourself.

That night, you made sure that you were still the same woman he was obsessed with.

How funny of you to doubt that.

You let him stabbed you where your heart was located, you cried of pleasure while he was liking the blood from the wounds he inflicted. You asked for more of his twisted madness.

You craved him as much as he craved you, if that was possible of course.

The next few days seemed calmer, your nightmares were still there but Alastor could see that you seemed to rest more. Which was what he needed, today was the day where he was going to try something that he wasn’t sure was going to work.

”I’ll go back to my father’s grave and try to understand what happened.”

You looked at your husband who was sitting on the sofa. He was helping Alice with reading books.

“ Alone ?”

“ Yes, I have other things I need to do.” He stood up after patting Alice three times on the head. “ Would you rather have me with you for the mansion tour?”

Today was the day where you felt ready to go to the Richemont’s estate and watch what you could do with all that wealth and mostly, find clues about Trey. You kissed your husband, reassuring him that you would go with your daughter furthermore Williams was already waiting for you there.

“ My shadow will stay with you.”

“ You mean, Shadie?” you grinned as Alastor grimaced. Since your daughter had called his shadow ; Shadie, you couldn’t help but use it. She had decided that your shadow would be named: Shade.

“ Yes… Shadie… I’ll be back for dinner.” He kissed your forehead with a fond smile before falling into his own shadow, disappearing completely.

He sighed as he stood in the bayou, just in front of his father’s grave, if it could be called like this. He stared at the ground: it didn’t seem like it had been touched… Yet it didn’t explain how someone managed to have his father’s eyes that should have decomposed if it wasn’t preserved.

Alastor began to walk deeper in the woods, spinning his red canne in his hand. He stopped after a while, staring at the spiritual weapons in his hands.

How could he reach Alice… It felt like every solution was met with a dead end… His soul needed to belong to someone…

Belong… to someone.

Oh.

Alastor’s lips twitch in a crazed smile.

Kalfu told him that if he caged a soul in the cane, those souls would belong to him.

So what if he caged his own soul inside the cane?

That would make him his own slave, but also his own master?

Alastor plugged the cane in the soiled ground, watching as it began to lighten up in a reddish light. He took a step back and stared at it, his eyes flashing the same colour.

A purple energy began to seep out from the cane, red smoke coming from its end, illuminating the surrounding in a dooming light. The bayou that Alastor usually found comforting, now looked like a twisted image of his own mind. The trees looked like they wanted to reach him and make him trap him into the floor, melting him with all the other corpses that he hid here.

He walked closer to the cane, after all he didn’t know how to do this spell. But as the energy was beginning to grow stronger and stronger, he felt his own lips moving, whispering a pledge to the looming cane that seemed to grow taller with each of his words.

He stopped as he felt a sharp pain inside his mind.

Alastor felt like someone was opening his skull and chaining his brain with a very heavy leash. He kept his eyes open as he stared at the cane, where the leash ended. His breath was ragged, his vision was vague… But he stayed conscious.

He managed to walk again toward his cane, his hand moving to reach it. He didn’t know why, but he needed to hold the spiritual weapon that chained his soul. It felt like if someone took the cane before him, his soul would belong to them.

He grabbed his weapon and felt a surge of electric shiver going from his brain to the end of his toes. He never felt more in control of his own body than right now… He felt like he could touch his own soul, feeling its texture…

” You truly are mad, Alastor.”

Alastor spun around, his eyes wide open as his deceased ally stood there.

” Alice…”

Alice RicheMont was looking at Alastor with her mocking smile,her amused sapphire eyes looking straight at him, arms crossed on her chest while her long blond hair moved around her. She wore the same clothes from the day she was murder, the red was still tainted from blood but she looked oddly at peace and happy to see him at the moment. She moved toward him while Alastor couldn’t move.

He did it. He managed to summon a soul while keeping his soul for himself.

” You look better dead than alive, my dear friend!”

” Oh, fuck off!”

Alastor laughed as Alice lost some of her ghostly prestance just because she was being annoyed with him. He spun the cane between his fingers, finding its weight lighter than usual.

“Now, I guess you know why I called you here.”

“Oh please,Alastor, you didn’t call me. I came here on my own… Because of whatever you did with your cane. But I don’t have that much time here, so I’ll be quick—“

“Are you in Hell?” Alastor asked as Alice stood there,dumbfounded. The man laughed at her expression, “ Of course you are! Who in the heavens would take you on… So, tell me everything I need to know.”

Alice looked confused and lost but then she stood with pride.

” I guess you already know, but I was killed by Trey. But that wasn’t what he wanted to do… He.. He was doing things in our basement. I found out that he made…some horrible thing in a room behind my bookstore, in my bedroom. He tried to tell me he wanted to… Truly, I don’t even remember half of what he told me, I was so scared… for me and my baby..”

Alastor stared at his dead friend’s soul, wondering what was the fire that kept Trey going. Why did he start to work with Lucifer in the first place?

” But Alastor… Trey is looking for my soul.”

” How? I did manage to reach your soul but do you know how many plans failed for that? Trey won’t find your soul so easily.” Alastor mused but couldn’t help but grimace at Alice’s expression.

”Well, my dear friend. Blood ties are the best way to reach a soul.”

” But Trey was your husband, there is no blood bond between you, and your father is dead, but I guess he must be with you so no tears please… Unless he did a—“

” My son is alive.”

Alastor froze at Alice’s word. He could see the woman was broken by that, but why? Shouldn’t she be happy that her baby- her son- was alive? He could see unshed tears in her eyes and he approached her with a mocking smile.

” Well, that makes him luckier than you.”

Alice scoffed at his world but managed to give him a little smile. She shook her head, looking at the ground.

“My son, my baby… He kept him alive through sacrifices to Lucifer…And my soul is tied to this demon, when Trey killed me… he did something to my body, and before I was dragged to Hell.. An old black man kept me with him, because I was scared to die alone… He kept me to his side until your wife, my best friend, came and saw my body… I hugged her but I don’t think she felt it…”

”I think she did. She just didn’t know it was you.” Alastor said, not caring about the soft look Alice had on her face. He didn’t say that to make her feel better, he truly thought you must have felt it, you were so sensitive to energy after all.

”But Trey’s plan.. If I understood clearly… He wants to give my son’s soul to the devil so he can take mine back and put it in Erori… ”

” Erori?”

” Yeah, Trey named him like this.”

” Well, do you know that in basque, Erori means The Fallen.” Alastor stated, staring at Alice. “Now I understand why…But how did you hear it?”

”Do you truly think a mother wouldn’t be able to fight for her child? I made some connections in Hell…But…You don’t seem shocked about all this.”

”Because I would have done the same. But because I’m better than your husband, my wife will never die, so no need for such dark plans!”

” You’re mad, Alastor…But I’ll guess I’ll see you in Hell.” Alice sighed as her soul bega to dissipate in the air.

Alastor walked toward her with a soft smile, he was happy to have this moment, he wondered why? He didn’t miss Alice but he couldn’t lie to himself, he truly enjoyed her company, he understood why she used to be your best friend. Maybe he would be able to bring her back so he could see your reaction to seeing your best friend again.

“ Well, not too soon.”

“Yeah.. Take your time… But please, save my son…Oh, how is your baby?”

Alastor looked as Alice’s soul kept fading, her sapphire eyes staring at him, she seemed worried that your pregnancy didn’t go well. He tilted his head with a smirk.

” Our baby? Oh, we had a little girl, her name is Alice.”

He could see Alice’s eyes widened before she gave him a beautiful smile, her eyes tearing up as she disappeared completely just before her last word.

”Lovely…”

Alastor stood alone as he felt the energy of his friend’s soul going back where it belonged: Hell.

He spun his cane in his hand with an amused smirk. Now, he truly knows what to do. Finding Erori. Maybe the child has power more remarkable than Trey himself. Alice was definitely going to be stronger than you and him, so he wouldn't be surprised if the child that was a vessel for his own mother’s soul was going to become more powerful than his father.

Maybe Erori could be an ally for his daughter, after all, having one of Lucifer's pawns as a tool may be useful.

“ Ahhh… What a good day to be alive.”

Alastor walked out of the woods, never noticing two red eyes staring at him from behind.

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