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blog-o-meter · 3 days ago

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Balcony Daydreams - Nicholas Alexander Chavez x fem!reader

summary: (Y/N) ogles her neighbor, Nicholas, as he mows his yard in the July heat and offers him a glass of lemonade.

warnings: 18+, unprotected p in v

required listening: West Coast by Lana Del Rey

word count: 4, 350

a/n: I’ve had west coast on repeat and then they dropped that photo of Nicholas and I HAD to write this

reblogs, likes, and replies are greatly appreciated and let me know if you'd like to see more!

The humid July air was heavy with the scent of freshly cut grass, the low drone of the lawnmower blending with the distant chirp of cicadas. From my balcony, I watched as my neighbor Nicholas worked below, completely in his element.

He wore a fitted white tank top that clung to his broad back, streaked with flecks of grass and dirt, the evidence of his labor etched into the fabric. The way his shoulders moved — strong, deliberate, fluid — held me captive in a way I couldn’t quite justify. His hair was damp, curling slightly at the nape of his neck, the sun catching in its messy waves.

He paused for a moment, resting his hands on the mower’s handle as he gazed over the yard, his back still turned to me. The lines of his muscles were sharp under the tight stretch of his shirt, the faint outline of his shoulder blades shifting as he breathed deeply. A silver chain caught the light against his tan skin, sitting just at the curve of his neck, and I found myself wondering who had given it to him — or if it was something he wore for himself, a quiet, unspoken piece of who he was.

The heat of the day had painted a sheen of sweat along his arms, making his skin almost luminous. He reached up to swipe his forearm across his forehead, muscles flexing with the motion, and I had to grip the edge of my chair to stop myself from staring too long. But even as I told myself to look away, my eyes betrayed me, roaming over the way his shirt clung to his frame and the subtle, careless smudges of dirt on his skin.

The air seemed heavier with him out there, as though his presence alone had turned up the heat by a few degrees. My heart beat a little faster, a soft ache settling in my chest at the sheer effortlessness of him. I romanticized him without permission — this quiet moment of his, as though he were a character written into the script of my life just for me to observe. Nicholas, my too-good-to-be-true neighbor, the kind of man who moved through life like it was his own stage, unknowingly drawing all the light toward him.

And then, as though he could feel the weight of my gaze, he glanced up. My breath caught. His dark brown eyes lifted to meet mine, and even from a distance, the spark of recognition was unmistakable. For a second, I thought I might’ve imagined the way his lips curved into a crooked smile, soft yet teasing, but the heat rising to my cheeks told me otherwise.

Caught, I froze, clutching my glass of lemonade tighter than necessary. I thought he might say something, but instead, Nicholas ran a hand through his sweat-dampened hair, turned back to the mower, and kept going. That smile lingered, though, etched in my mind like a secret meant just for me.

The moment stretched as I sat there, trying to collect myself. His smile — crooked, teasing, like he knew what I was thinking — had set every nerve in my body alight. I swallowed hard, willing myself to calm down, but the next thing I knew, I was on my feet, grabbing the pitcher of lemonade I’d made. My hands trembled slightly as I poured a glass, the ice clinking against the sides.

I didn’t let myself overthink it. Before I could talk myself out of it, I stepped off the balcony, down the stairs, and across my yard toward him.

Nicholas had just finished another pass with the mower, his movements slowing as he noticed me approaching. His brows lifted slightly in surprise, and then that same lazy grin spread across his face. God, he was dangerous like that — so at ease, like he had all the time in the world and I was the only thing worth focusing on.

“Thought you might want a break,” I said, holding out the glass to him over the short white picket fence separating our yards. My voice sounded steady, but inside, my pulse was a riot.

He switched off the mower, leaning against it casually as he reached for the glass. “Well, aren’t you sweet?” he said, his slightly raspy voice wrapping around the words. His fingers brushed mine as he took the glass, and even that small contact sent a jolt straight through me.

Nicholas took a long sip, his throat working as he swallowed. A bead of condensation slipped down the side of the glass, mirroring the drop of sweat trailing down his neck. I forced myself not to stare, but he didn’t make it easy. When he finished, he let out a satisfied sigh, holding the glass up in a mock toast. “Best lemonade I’ve ever had.”

“Flatterer,” I teased, though my voice was softer than I’d intended. He chuckled, setting the glass down on the mower before turning those dark brown eyes back to me. Up close, they were even more mesmerizing — warm, rich, and impossibly intense, like he could see right through me.

“Seriously,” he said, his tone dropping, quieter now. “Thanks for this. I owe you.”

I shrugged, trying to play it cool. “Just being neighborly.”

His grin widened, and he stepped a little closer, closing the already small space between us. “Neighborly, huh?” His voice was teasing, but there was a heat in his gaze now, something heavier, more deliberate. “That why you’ve been watching me from your balcony all afternoon?”

I froze, the blush spreading from my cheeks all the way down my neck. “I wasn’t—”

“You were,” he interrupted, his smile softening. “It’s okay, baby. I don’t mind.”

The way he said it — baby — with just the faintest edge of amusement, sent a shiver through me. My breath hitched as he reached up, brushing a stray strand of hair away from my face. His hand lingered, his fingers just barely grazing my cheek, and I couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but stand there and fall apart under his touch.

“Tell me if I’m wrong,” he murmured, his voice low, almost a growl. His eyes searched mine, waiting, giving me an out.

But I didn’t want an out.

“You’re not wrong,” I whispered.

That was all he needed.

Nicholas closed the distance between us, his lips crashing against mine in a kiss that was anything but tentative. His hands found my waist, pulling me against him, and I melted into him, my fingers gripping the fabric of his tank top as if I needed to hold on or risk losing myself entirely. He tasted like lemonade and something darker, headier, and I was dizzy with it, drunk on the way he made me feel.

He broke the kiss just long enough to murmur, “Inside?”

I nodded, breathless, and he crossed the picket fence over to my side. I took him by the hand, leading him toward the door of my house. The mower, the heat, the rest of the world — all of it faded as we stepped inside, the cool air of the kitchen doing little to calm the fire building between us.

Nicholas didn’t waste any time. The second the door shut behind us, he spun me around, pressing me against it as his lips found mine again. This time, the kiss was slower, deeper, his hands roaming my sides as though he wanted to memorize every inch of me. His touch was firm yet careful, his fingers slipping beneath the hem of my shirt to trace the bare skin of my waist.

“You’ve been driving me crazy, you know that?” he muttered against my lips, his voice thick with want. “Sitting up there, looking so damn perfect…”

I couldn’t help but laugh softly, the sound catching in my throat as his lips moved to my neck. “I wasn’t trying to…”

“Doesn’t matter,” he said, his teeth grazing my skin in a way that made my knees weak. “You did.”

My protests dissolved into a gasp as he lifted me effortlessly, setting me on the counter. His hands splayed on my thighs, spreading warmth everywhere they touched, and I was gone — completely and utterly his.

The cool marble of the counter was a sharp contrast to the heat of his touch, but it only heightened the sensation, grounding me in the moment. Nicholas stood between my legs, his hands sliding up my thighs with deliberate slowness, his thumbs brushing against the hem of my dress. He paused there, his eyes dark with intent as he looked at me, waiting for a sign to keep going.

I leaned forward, threading my fingers through his messy, damp hair and pulling him closer. That was all he needed. His lips claimed mine again, hungrier this time, his kiss searing and unapologetic. He tasted like summer, sweet and heady, and I couldn’t get enough. My hands trailed down his back, feeling the way his muscles shifted beneath my touch, still warm and slick from the sun. He groaned softly at the contact, his fingers gripping my waist tighter as though he couldn’t get close enough.

The kitchen was bathed in golden light, the curtains billowing softly in the warm breeze. Outside, the world went on — the cicadas still sang, the sun still shone — but inside, time seemed to stop, the two of us lost in this perfect, reckless moment.

Nicholas tugged at the hem of my dress, his fingertips brushing the bare skin of my thighs. “Is this okay?” he asked, his voice low and rough, his dark eyes searching mine.

“Yes,” I breathed, nodding, my heart hammering in my chest. “Yes.”

His hands moved with more certainty then, sliding the fabric higher until it pooled around my hips. His gaze roamed over me, lingering just long enough to make my cheeks flush, but he didn’t give me time to feel self-conscious. He leaned in, his lips trailing down my jaw and along my neck, leaving a path of fire in their wake. Every kiss, every touch was deliberate, like he was savoring me, like he’d been waiting for this moment as long as I had.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, his voice a soft rumble that sent shivers down my spine.

I couldn’t think, couldn’t speak — all I could do was feel. The press of his body against mine, the heat of his breath on my skin, the way his lips curved into a satisfied smile against my collarbone when he found the spot that made me gasp.

Nicholas’s hands were firm, calloused from his work, their roughness dragging against the soft skin of my thighs. His tank top, streaked with dirt and sweat, clung to his body as if it were a second skin, and I couldn’t stop myself from running my hands up under the fabric, exploring the planes of his back. He was hot to the touch, his muscles taut and shifting beneath my fingertips as though he’d been built for this — for me.

He growled low in his throat when I traced my nails lightly down his spine, his body reacting instinctively. His lips crashed against mine again, demanding and fervent, and I met him with the same hunger, clutching him to me like he might disappear if I let go. The faint, salty tang of sweat on his skin only added to the overwhelming heat between us. It was intoxicating, dizzying, and I wanted more.

The tension in the room was electric, the sticky summer heat still clinging to both of us even in the cool air of the kitchen. Nicholas pressed me harder against the counter, his hands roaming over me as though he couldn’t decide where to touch next. When his lips left mine to trail along my jaw and down my neck, I gasped, my head tilting back to give him better access. His breath was hot against my skin, and I shivered at the contrast of it against the cool sweat still drying on my chest.

I pulled him closer, my nails digging into his shoulders as he worked his way back up to my lips. “Nicholas…” I whispered his name, and he answered with a kiss that stole my breath away.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting this,” he murmured against the hollow of my throat, his voice rough and unsteady, like he was barely holding himself together. His teeth grazed the delicate skin there, and I let out a soft cry, my hands tangling in his damp hair.

“Then stop holding back,” I whispered, the words spilling out before I could stop them. My voice was breathless, trembling, but I didn’t care. I wanted him to know how badly I needed him, how much I had craved this moment.

His head snapped up, his dark brown eyes locking onto mine. They were heavy-lidded with desire, but there was a flicker of amusement there too, a crooked smile tugging at his lips. “Careful, baby,” he warned, his voice low and teasing, but the heat in his gaze told me he’d taken my words as a challenge. “I might just take you up on that.”

Before I could respond, his hands gripped my hips, tugging me closer to the edge of the counter. My legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, pulling him against me, and I felt the hard lines of his body press into mine. There was no space left between us now, only the unbearable heat and friction as his hands slid under my thighs to lift me effortlessly.

He carried me like I weighed nothing, his strength undeniable and utterly captivating. The sweaty tank top clung to him, streaked with green smudges from the freshly cut grass, the dirt on his skin rubbing off onto mine. I didn’t care — it only made the moment more real, more raw.

Nicholas set me down on the kitchen table, his lips finding mine again with a hunger that matched the storm building between us. My hands roamed over his chest, pushing up the hem of his tank top until I finally peeled it off of him. His skin was slick with sweat, the salty tang of it lingering on my lips as I kissed my way down his neck and across his collarbone. My fingers traced the outline of the faint tan line where his chain rested, and I couldn’t stop myself from tugging him closer, greedy for every inch of him.

“You’re making a mess,” I teased breathlessly, glancing at the streaks of dirt and grass clinging to his skin, now smeared across my thighs and the edge of the table.

Nicholas smirked, his hands gripping my waist. “You complaining?” he shot back as he fiddled with the button of his grass-stained jeans, his voice low and gravelly, the heat in his gaze making my stomach flip.

“Not even a little,” I murmured, the words slipping out before I could think. My chest heaved as I tried to catch my breath, but Nicholas wasn’t giving me a moment’s reprieve. His smirk deepened, and with one smooth motion, he pulled his sweat-soaked tank top over his head and tossed it onto the floor.

The sight of him made my heart stutter. His body, glistening with sweat, was a masterpiece — all defined muscle and raw power, streaked with dirt and flecks of grass from his work outside. The chain around his neck gleamed in the golden light streaming through the kitchen window, and I couldn’t stop my eyes from trailing down, taking in every line, every shadow, every inch of him.

“Like what you see?” he teased, his voice low and gravelly, as he stepped closer, his hands finding my thighs again. His thumbs brushed over the dirt-streaked skin there, his touch deliberate and almost possessive.

“Maybe,” I managed to reply, though my voice betrayed just how much he had me unraveled.

“Maybe?” he echoed, his dark brown eyes locking onto mine as his fingers tightened their grip on my legs, pulling me closer to the edge of the table. “Baby, don’t kid yourself.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but his lips were on mine before I could form a word, silencing any protest. His kiss was intense, his hands gripping my hips to keep me in place as he pressed himself against me, his bare chest warm and damp from the sun. The faint, salty tang of his sweat mingled with the taste of lemonade still on my lips, and I couldn’t hold back the soft moan that escaped me.

“That’s what I thought,” he murmured against my mouth, his voice thick with satisfaction. His hands slid higher, fingers curling around the hem of my dress. The fabric bunched under his grip, and he pulled it higher, his knuckles grazing my skin as he exposed more of me.

The tension in the air was suffocating, the heat between us impossible to ignore. My fingers tangled in his messy, damp hair, pulling him closer as he trailed kisses down my neck, the faint patches of stubble scratching deliciously against my skin. I could feel the strength in his body, the way his muscles flexed as he lifted me slightly, adjusting me against him like I weighed nothing at all. The wood creaked faintly beneath my weight, but neither of us paid it any mind. My legs tightened around his waist, pulling him flush against me, and his lips claimed mine again, heated and unrelenting.

The sweat on his skin mixed with the streaks of dirt that clung to both of us, smearing against the table as he leaned over me. His chain dangled just above my chest, catching the fading sunlight that poured through the window. My fingers curled around it, tugging him closer, and a low growl escaped from deep in his throat, vibrating against my lips.

“Nicholas,” I murmured, his name falling from my lips like a plea. He pulled back slightly, just enough to meet my gaze, his dark brown eyes heavy-lidded with desire. There was a teasing glint in them, but also something more — something raw and unspoken.

“You like saying my name, don’t you?” he muttered, his voice rough, a husky edge of amusement threading through it. His hands trailed up my thighs, slow and deliberate, spreading warmth everywhere they touched. “Say it again.”

“Nicholas,” I whispered, my breath hitching as his hands moved higher, his fingers skimming the sensitive skin just beneath the hem of my dress, tugging my underwear down and letting it fall at my ankles.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his lips finding the hollow of my throat as his hands splayed against my hips, holding me firmly in place. The way he touched me, with a mix of roughness and care, sent a jolt straight through me, igniting every nerve in my body. I arched into him, my nails dragging down his back, leaving faint, deliberate marks against his sweat-slicked skin.

His mouth moved lower, leaving a trail of fire along my collarbone and down the curve of my neck. Each kiss, each graze of his teeth, felt like a carefully placed spark, threatening to consume me entirely. My hands tangled in his messy, damp hair, tugging him closer as his name slipped from my lips again, softer this time, almost a sigh.

His hands gripped my waist as he finally undid the zipper of his pants and pulled the layers of fabric down, pulling me further toward the edge of the table until there was nothing but him holding me steady. I couldn’t form words; all I could do was feel — feel the strength in his arms as he steadied me, feel the heat of his body pressed against mine, feel the way every inch of him seemed to mold to me like we were meant for this, for each other.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he said, his tone softer now, his lips brushing against my ear as his hands held me in place. “I don’t want to—”

“It’s not,” I interrupted, breathless and trembling beneath his touch. My voice was shaky but certain. “It’s not too much.”

That was all he needed. Nicholas’s mouth covered mine again, deeper this time, more consuming. His hands gripped my hips tightly, his fingers digging into my skin just enough to anchor me to him as he slipped his length inside me and started to move against me, his body strong and deliberate. The dining table creaked beneath us, the sound blending with our gasps and the faint hum of cicadas outside.

Time blurred, each moment stretching into the next, until all I knew was him — his heat, his strength, the way he whispered my name like it was something sacred. My head fell back, and his lips found the curve of my jaw.

The tension built steadily, each movement more deliberate than the last. Nicholas’s hands gripped my hips firmly, guiding me against him as though we were moving to a rhythm only the two of us could hear. His lips trailed along my neck, his stubble scraping my skin just enough to heighten every sensation. I gasped, my fingers digging into the slick, sweat-dampened muscles of his back as he filled me completely, each motion driving me closer to the edge.

“God,” he murmured, his voice rough and ragged, his forehead pressing against mine as he paused for a moment to catch his breath. His chain grazed my skin, cool against the heat of our bodies, and I couldn’t stop myself from tugging him closer, desperate to feel every inch of him.

“Don’t stop,” I whispered, my voice trembling as I wrapped my legs tighter around his waist. The words spilled out before I could think, unfiltered and needy, but I didn’t care. All I wanted was him—closer, deeper, more. “Please.”

Nicholas’s dark eyes met mine, and the way he looked at me made my breath catch. His lips curved into a crooked grin, and he pressed a kiss to my temple before murmuring, “I wasn’t planning to.”

He shifted slightly, changing the angle, and I cried out, my back arching off the table as a wave of pleasure crashed through me. His hands gripped my thighs, holding me steady as he moved again, slower this time, deliberate in the way he pressed into me. The table creaked beneath us louder, the sound barely registering over the pounding of my heart and the soft moans spilling from my lips.

The sunlight filtering through the window painted golden patterns across his skin, accentuating the way his muscles flexed with every movement. His chest rose and fell with labored breaths, a thin sheen of sweat making his tan skin glisten. The faint streaks of dirt and grass on his arms and shoulders transferred onto my skin, grounding me in the reality of him.

“Look at me,” he whispered, his voice low and rough as his hands slid up to cup my face. His thumbs brushed gently against my cheeks, a stark contrast to the intensity of his movements. “I want to see you.”

I opened my eyes, meeting his gaze, and the raw emotion I saw there — the hunger, the need, the unspoken connection between us — was enough to send me spiraling. My hands slid up his arms, gripping his shoulders as I gave in completely, letting him take me higher and higher.

“Nicholas,” I gasped, his name falling from my lips like a prayer. He groaned softly in response, his head dipping to press a kiss to the hollow of my throat as his pace quickened, the tension between us reaching its breaking point.

“God, you feel so good,” he muttered against my skin, his voice thick with need. His hands gripped my waist tightly, anchoring me to him as he thrust into me, his movements growing more desperate.

My world narrowed to the feel of him, the heat of his body against mine, the way his voice wrapped around me like a tether. The tension coiled tighter and tighter, the edge drawing nearer with every deliberate motion until finally, the world seemed to shatter around us.

My body arched against his, a broken moan spilling from my lips as the pleasure overtook me, wave after wave crashing through me. Nicholas followed moments later, his grip on my hips tightening as he buried his face in the crook of my neck, a low, guttural sound escaping him as he came undone. My fingers clung to his shoulders, my chest heaving as I tried to catch my breath, and he warm breath brushed against my skin.

For a long moment, neither of us moved, the soft hum of the cicadas and the faint rustle of the curtains the only sounds filling the space around us. His hands slid up my sides, gentler now, and he pressed a soft kiss to my shoulder, his lips lingering there like he wasn’t quite ready to let go.

“You okay?” he murmured, his voice quieter now, almost tender.

“Yeah,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper as I nodded, my fingers still tangled in his hair.

He leaned back slightly, just enough to look at me, and the crooked grin I’d come to know so well spread across his face. “Good,” he said, his voice still low, though there was a playful edge to it now. He reached up, brushing a stray strand of hair from my face, his thumb lingering against my cheek.

“Anytime you need me to come over and mow your lawn…” He paused, his grin widening as his dark brown eyes flicked down to my lips before meeting mine again. “You just let me know, baby.”

I couldn’t help the laugh that escaped me, soft and breathless, as I shook my head. “I think I’ll take you up on that,” I said, my voice teasing but full of promise.

“I’ll be waiting,” he said, leaning in to press one last kiss to my lips, slow and deliberate, like he wanted to make sure I’d remember it.

#nicholas alexander chavez #nicholas alexander chavez x reader #nicholas chavez #nicholas chavez x fem!reader #father charlie mayhew #nicholas alexander chavez rpf #nicholas alexander chavez imagine #nicholas alexander chavez fanfic #nicholas alexander chavez fic #nicholas chavez smut #nicholas chavez x reader #father charlie grotesquerie #father charlie mayhew x reader #father charlie x reader #grotesquerie father charlie mayhew #father charlie mayhew x fem!reader #fic-o-meter

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robolvrr · 1 day ago

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behind closed doors. ੈ♡˳

optimus prime x afab human reader warnings: nsfw.

he is fascinated.

it took a great deal of convincing. not him, but you - over mass displacement. you argued that with all the warnings from ratchet the purpose of such mechanisms should only be applied for tasks of importance.

optimus, as stoic as he can be now, could only hide his smile behind the battle-worn mask. "you are of importance", he said, such a simple reply. yet, he watched as you gaped like a goldfish, flustered beyond belief.

the prime had seen many a spectacle. overgrown forests bursting with life. deserts as dry as the sands of beachy hills and glacier cooled mountains under canopies of wind and snow. none could ever compare to humanity. so delicate and resilient, resourceful.

this adoration grips his spark in stride, especially when you finally get over nerves and slowly slip the velvet of your robe off a shoulder.

it's an intimate affair. skin and curve and softness, much closer than before. he's taller still, at least several feet. but now, he can gently grab your arms. squeeze his digits like scooping gold and watch entranced when the love indents form.

"optimus..."

a whine. he gingerly lets you go, still crowding your space. you show no actual discomfort and it's obvious by the time the puddle of fabric slips to your ankles, creating a halo around your feet. his optics, electric, take in the swell of your ass. your thighs, calves, biceps.

"the shower will get cold, my love."

now you are the one in a trance. so, you slide open the glass door, fingerprints leaving a kiss in the fog. your lover follows behind slowly, as if you might bound off like startled deer.

optimus wrangles his pondering by working the knots from your back instead.

the noises leaving your wet lips stir at his core. he feels perverted, watching your head tip back until the crown hits his chassis, spine arching beautiful as those modes of destruction and heroism glide down the front of your body.

droplets cling to your chest and drip down your chin. his fans, internal, click to a blast which is dampened by cascading shades from the shower-head.

"you look so small.. like this."

surprise takes your features by storm and his helm feels hot, not meaning to have said the thought aloud. however, when you part your legs to allow him to sponge lavender and honey suds with care, he can tell you find his sentiment charming.

he was so awkward with you at first.

now, the leader is wrapped tight around your fingers and you are wrapped tight around his. he can't help himself, thick silver of his middle digit pumping in and out. greedy where milky white coats and while his servos are still navigating, pleasing, you're practically drowning for him already.

you're cute. cute when you lift to the balls of your feet when he just can't take it anymore, array unlocking and spike rocking a steady pace that has you panting against porcelain.

when you aren't sounding dumb anymore, dribbling and babbling like you've lost your mind, you might laugh at the idea of the optimus prime being an ass-man.

it's a shameful vice when he switches positions. you're much bendier underneath warm drizzles, so you let him lift your leg just enough to hitch close to your hip so he can find that special angle that gets you singing. those "ah, ah, ah!"s when your flesh ripples, crushed ribbon beneath his grip.

and then you're crying, tangle of limbs while he sits. still full to the brim, strawberry pink coating your clit as he keeps close to you in a way you can't speak of beyond closed walls.

robolvrr 2024.

a/n: it has been so busy with holidays coming up! i am one tired gal. but i wanted to write a lil something (and i love this old tired man.)

#maccadam #transformers x reader #optimus prime x reader #/nsft #valveplug #/nsfw #optimus prime #transformers x human reader

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strawberriesoup · 3 days ago

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24 to 25٠࣪⭑

── .✦ A snowstorm forces you to take refuge with Jisung on christmas eve

word count: 6.6k

genre: fluff with a little angst, jisung x female reader, mutual pining, comfort, acquaintances to lovers

warnings: cursing, feelings, reader is down horrendously bad for jisung, kisses, jisung is a sweetheart

a/n: this has been in the works for a while (i’m bad at writing stuff fast) SO IM SUPER HAPPY THAT I WAS ABLE TO GET IT OUT FOR THE HOLIDAY SEASON

any/all feedback is highly appreciated!!

taglist: @jisunggy @holly-here @hannamoon143 @fly-you-dam-fools

if you would like to be added to my general taglist, send me a comment or an ask! <3

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The holiday season is a time for joy, a time to share laughter and meals, a time to wear fuzzy socks and fall asleep watching bad Christmas movies. Well, that’s what it’s supposed to be anyways. It’s a little hard to get into the Christmas cheer when each snowflake swirling outside your windshield is somehow concerningly larger than the last.

Wind whistles past your car as you squint your eyes, trying — and failing— to get any sort of visibility through the rapidly thickening blanket of snow and darkness. The gas light flashes on with a ping. Damn it. Continuing on whilst the best you can make out of your surroundings is a screen of nothingness and the occasional telephone pole doesn’t seem like the best course of action right now.

Eventually, you manage to pull into a small gas station about five minutes away by reluctantly putting your life into the hands of Google Maps.

Blowing warmth onto your hands, white-knuckled from your death grip on the steering wheel, you yank your phone out of the cupholder. Stranded in some dingy parking lot a good forty-five minutes away from your apartment is definitely where you needed to be on Christmas Eve, thanks so much universe. And your feet are cold.

You had really wanted to surprise them. The last time you’d seen your family was back in March, well over half a year ago. You thought Christmas as the perfect opportunity to visit. Just imagining the look on their faces alone was more than enough to spur your enthusiasm. But, then again, you hear the worries in the back of your mind. You hadn’t visited in so long, rarely even sending a text their way. And coming over with zero warning? They might not be as happy as you hoped.

No, of course they would be happy to see you, right? Right. Either way, there’s no way you’re going anywhere tonight.

Warm air from the AC fans across your face as you slump back in your chair, unfastening the top clasp of your coat that suddenly seems to be suffocating you. What do you even do in this situation? Call someone?

Scrolling through your contacts, your eyes alight on a familiar name.

Han Jisung

You face lights up with hope. Didn’t he say something about living around here? You open his contact, immediately faced with the looming call button in the top right corner of the screen.

Jisung is somewhat of an aquaintance of yours. Calling him a friend might be too bold. Being partners on a group project doesn’t automatically equal friendship, but you two had gotten along quite well. At least, you thought so. Maybe that was wishful thinking coming from your fat crush on him and his gorgeous smile, but still.

What are you doing? You hardly know this guy, and you’re going to call him on Christmas Eve night so he can, what, pick you up? You have to admit, the thought sets off little warning bells in your head. But what other options do you have?

Finger hovering over the button, you hesitate for a moment longer before pressing call.

The line rings once, twice. What if he doesn’t answer? He’s probably busy, it is Christmas eve after all. Did he ever mention leaving town for the holidays?

You’re so busy trying to recall previous conversations with him that you almost don’t notice the line picking up before the third ring. Shit, that was faster than you were expecting. Jisung’s voice greets you through the speaker.

“Heyy, what’s up?”

At the sound of his voice, your heart does a little leap in your chest. You take a deep breath before answering.

“Hi Jisung. I, uh, have a bit of a favor to ask.”

⋆⁺₊❅ ⁺₊❆⋆

You were right about him living close, because less than fifteen minutes later the bright flash of headlights announces Jisung’s arrival. You know that looking nice should be the least of your priorities right now, but that doesn’t stop you from flipping open the sunvisor and briefly inspecting your appearance.

Jisung’s car door thuds shut as you hop out of your own car, met with a brisk rush of air that fills your lungs, chilling you from the inside out. He wasn’t far, but with the heavy snow you can just make out his form from across the lot. You’re quick to hustle towards his dark sillouette, eager to get out of the cold as soon as possible.

Meeting in the middle sooner than you had expected, both you and Jisung halt in tandem, breaths coming in puffs of condensation. The zipper of his puffer jacket is half undone, complimented by a scarf thrown haphazardly around his neck. His hands that are shoved deep in the pockets of his coat give hint to the fact that he’s probably not even wearing gloves.

Neither of you had spoken a word. The silence is painfully awkward, and you can tell he feels it too, if the way he glances down at his feet in favor of meeting your eyes is anything to go by.

“So, do you—”

“Should we—”

Speaking simultaneously, you both cut your sentences short, falling into a silence that’s somehow louder than the last. God, you had expected it to be awkward but not this awkward. Meeting with Jisung outside of a college setting feels so foreign, the only way you’ve interacted with him thus far has been through school. You can feel your ears burn as Jisung clears his throat.

“Sorry, uh, you were saying?” He pulls his hand out of his pocket to gesture at you, confirming that he is indeed not wearing gloves.

The question hangs in the air as Jisung pushes his glasses up with two fingers and looks at you expectantly. His cheeks are tinted with blush from the prickling cold. Lips slightly parted, his breath hisses through his teeth with every inhale, as if trying to supress them from chattering.

“Oh, yeah,” you begin your sentence again, shaking your head to focus. You’re standing in a parking lot in the middle of an actual snowstorm, now is not the time to be fawning over him. “should we, like, head to your car? I’m freezing. I’ll just leave my car here because it’s— yeah.” You twist around to look at your drab little car. It’ll be fine.

He lets out a little puff of laughter, sending a cloud of frost into the air.

“Yeah, good idea. c’mon let’s go.”

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆

The car ride to Jisung’s place is less awkward than your experience in the parking lot, but not by much. A comment is occasionally made about the storm, but other than that the ride is filled with silence and the steady swishing of windshield wipers.

Jisung glances at you from the corner of his eye. You’re examining the fluff on your gloves with your head down, not seeming too intrested in conversation.

Or maybe you’re uncomfortable. That would make a lot of sense.

Wincing internally at himself, Jisung draws his attention back to the road and furrows his brow, trying to remember if he’s done something wrong. Although, he supposes that being alone with, well, not a stranger— Jisung would like to think he’s at least a good aquaintance to you— but with someone you don't know too well, is enough to put anyone on edge. He has to remind himself that this was your idea.

When your contact info had popped up on his screen, interrupting his very important business (scrolling), he promptly froze, had an intense mental battle on how he should answer, dropped his phone, picked it back up again, and hit answer, all in the span of about four seconds.

Jisung has to admit he does have a slight thing for you. Well okay, maybe a big thing. Like, he has your class schedule and favorite study spot memorized kind of big. Also you wear your hair up on Tuesdays.

But thats besides the point really.

After what feels like a lifetime of driving and the occasional buzzing of muted christmas music playing through the radio, you two finally arrive at Jisung’s place.

It’s nicer than you had expected. The house is dimly lit, but perfectly tidy. Best of all, it’s warm. Behind you, Jisung’s keys jingle as he hangs them up next to the door.

“Uh, make yourself at home, okay? There’s instant ramen, some milk… actually, that’s about it but hey, at least there’s ramen.” He beckons you in, tugging his scarf off while smiling ruefully at the lack of food options to offer.

“That’s okay, I believe in instant ramen supremacy,” you state confidently, earning a laugh from Jisung as you follow him into the kitchen, resting your weight on the counter.

“A woman after my own heart I see,” He jokes, closing his eyes and placing a hand dramatically over his heart. His knuckles are still flushed pink from the cold.

If only he knew.

You can feel the awkward tension from earlier start to melt away now that you’re here. Thank God, because you were seriously considering going back to your car and just waiting out the night there. You couldn’t do that though. Jisung was so willing to help, coming as soon as you had called. Which is kind of crazy, if you stop to think about it for a second. Going out of your way to drive out in a snowstorm and picking someone up on Christmas Eve would be absolutely out of the question for most people, let alone someone you aren’t even close with.

Jisung is busying himself with running some warm water in the kitchen. He rests one elbow on the counter, testing the water tempature. You find yourself watching his movements, how he runs a hand through his hair, the dark strands dampening with the moisture from his hand, and how his eyebrows pinch in concentration until the tempature is just right. Jisung seems more comfortable and relaxed now that he’s here. He’s not a tall man, by any stretch of the imagination, but his confident demeanor makes his presence seem much larger.

Running his chilled hands underneath the warm faucet to bring the warmth back, Jisung looks to the window. You blink and follow suit. Fortunately, he hadn’t caught you staring.

“Holy shit, we must have made it here just in time,” He laughs incredulously, shutting off the sink and shaking the rest of the dampness from his hands.

The window is completely engulfed in white.

Outside, the wind angrily laments that you’re inside and safe. You can’t imagine being stuck out there in that, alone. Just the thought of it makes your insides churn with a strange mixture of anxiety and relief, and you realize that you haven’t even thanked Jisung yet for saving your sorry ass. You open your mouth, but the words seem to dry up on your tongue.

Jisung tilts his head at you, questioning.

“No for real, I haven’t seen a snow this crazy in a while,” Running your hand along the cool countertop, you fix your eyes on an unlit candle to the left of Jisung’s form. Why can’t you just say thank you? It’s not that hard, yet you find yourself avoiding the two simple words like the plauge.

A beat of silence falls over the two of you, but this time it’s comfortable. There’s no rush or pressure to say anything, just a quiet presence while gazing out at the bright sheet that blankets the night.

⋆⁺₊❅ ⁺₊❆⋆

You have an idea.

Is it a good idea? Probably not, but it’s an idea nonetheless.

While you had been absentmindedly thumbing through your Pinterest homepage in an attempt to pass time, you came across a recipe. And not just any recipe, it’s a sugar cookie recipe in the likeness of a snowman. With a little face on it.

The tantalizing image stirrs your sweet tooth, and you glance over at Jisung on the other side of the couch. He seems to be putting an obviously large amount of distance between the two of you, as the entire middle section of the couch remains empty with you and Jisung perched on either side.

“Hey, so… are you any good at baking?”

Jisung’s head jerks up at your question.

“Uhhh. I plead the fifth.”

You find yourself grinning.

“How about this, do you like baking?”

“Now that. Is a different story.” His knees spread apart as he adjusts his position on the couch, slouching lower and crossing his arms across his chest. He looks at you sideways. “What, did you have something in mind?”

You definitely do have something in mind, and it doesn't have anything to do with baking.

“Hear me out,” you point your phone screen at Jisung, who leans in to squint at it. “we make christmas cookies. In the shape of snowmen.”

“You know what, hell yeah. Nothing better to do,” Jisung stretches his arms towards the ceiling, hands balling up into fists. Your wandering eyes betray you, and you can’t help but notice the little sliver of smooth skin that peeks out from where his shirt slides up as he stretches. He needs to stop being so casually sexy right now or you might go crazy. “Cross your fingers though, ‘cause I dunno if I have any eggs.”

⋆⁺₊❅ ⁺₊❆⋆

Currently standing in a neat line across the countertop are all the gathered ingredients necessary for the cookies. Jisung had miraculously acquired two eggs from the depths of his fridge, which now sit next to the flour, and you had spent a good five minutes opening and closing cabinets in search of all the dry ingredients.

You’ve baked a couple of times before. Granted, the first time the cookies were still soft in the middle and the second time may or may not have involved the fire department, but third time’s the charm right? You’re determined to make and eat these cookies.

Next to you, Jisung is staring at the ingredients, hands on his hips. Seemingly at a loss, he looks over to you for instructions.

“Okay, step one: combine the dry ingredients…”

So far, so good. Jisung was put in charge of the flour mixture, while you had started the task of creaming the butter and sugar together.

When you glance up to check on Jisung after a bit, you find him leveling out a scoop of flour, meticulously brushing any stray lumps of powder off of the top with a butter knife. His eyes squint in concentration until he is satisfied with the measurement, proceeding to dump it into the bowl. A faint cloud of white powder dusts the air.

You watch him with amusement as he scoops another cup out of the flour bag, starting the whole process over again.

He must have felt you staring, because his head darts up, eyes finding yours. You quickly duck your head back towards your work.

You wonder if Jisung is a perfectionist with most things in his life. He’s mentioned before that he writes and produces music, you figure that has a certain degree of perfectionism to it. Then again, during the car ride here your feet were resting on several bags of fast food from various restaurants. Maybe his perfectionism is selective.

The undeveloped batter clings to the mixer as you switch it off and pull it out of the bowl. You swipe a finger over one of the whisks and pop it in your mouth. It might just be sugar and butter, but hey, that shit’s good.

Turning your head to offer Jisung a taste, you let out a gasp of surprise upon realizing that he’s standing right behind you. He leans forward, lowkey trapping you between him and the counter as he crosses an arm around you to scoop up some of the mixture from the edge of the bowl. Your breath catches at his proximity. His warm breath brushes againt your neck, causing a shiver to run up your spine.

He draws away, licking his finger while you remain frozen in place. What happened to him keeping a good distance from you? You don’t think he even realizes what he just did, because he just strolls on back to his little station, quietly humming a tune as he goes.

⋆⁺₊❅ ⁺₊❆⋆

As soon as the oven door slams shut, Jisung is immediately squatted in front of it, dutifully watching the uniform balls of dough through the yellow tint of the oven light.

“You know those will take, like, thirteen minutes to cook, right?” Leaning over the countertop, you raise an eyebrow at his crouched form.

“Thirteen? No way. I’ll basically be dead by then.” Jisung stands up, brushing some of the remaining flour off his pants. That’s when you notice a patch of white just above his left eyebrow. How did that even happen?

You step forward without thinking, reaching up to rub the spot off with your thumb. His skin is ridiculously soft, and you find your treacherous fingers lingering for probably longer than was strictly necessary.

Jisung’s eyes are twice as wide as normal as you pull your hand away. He blinks at you and swallows, causing his throat to bob up and down.

Oh so now he’s flustered. You’re beginning to think your little crush is reciprocated after all.

Momentarily confident, you send him a sweet smile.

“That’s better.”

Jisung doesn't say anything in return, but you don't think you’re imagining the slight red tint to his ears.

Three loud beeps announce that the cookies have completed their oven time and are now ready to be taken out and consumed.

Jisung arms himself with oven mitts and carefully slides the cookie tray out of the oven and onto the potholders that you had placed on the countertop a few minutes prior.

They look good. Like, really good. You can feel your mouth starting to water.

“Holy shit, I think we actually did it! Thank God they didn't catch on fire this time,” you exclaim, poking one experimentally with a finger.

Jisung’s eyebrows fly up and he shoots you a bewildered look.

“I thought you said you could cook??”

“Hey now, I never said that…”

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆

Throughout the night, you have become painfully aware of the fact that you are wearing jeans.

Thankfully, since you were heading to your family’s house anyways, you have an entire suitcase packed with the works. Your comfy pajamas from last year are sounding really good right now.

Jisung is propped up on the corner of the couch with a cookie in one hand and his phone in the other. His cheeks are stuffed with probably half of said cookie right now, making him look like some sort of rodent. It’s cute.

You need to ask him where his bathroom is to change, but you find yourself hesitating. Jisung looks up at you with a confused expression and a cookie crumb clinging to his cheek.

Realizing that you’re just looming over the side of his couch ominously, you are quick to blurt out your question.

“Do you know where the bathroom is?”

Goddamnit. Of course he knows where his own fucking bathroom is. What kind of question is that?

Jisung, luckily, seems to have found it amusing, his eyes squinting up as he lets out a hearty laugh. Which almost, almost, makes up for the fact that you just asked the stupidest question in the history of mankind. It doesn’t stop your cheeks from heating up though.

“Yeah, I think it’s down the hallway to the left,”

He’s playing along. You wonder if he has any idea how much better that makes you feel as you break into a wide smile and thank him, scurrying off to go grab your…

Suitcase.

Your suitcase. Where was it? You don’t remember bringing it to Jisung’s place, where could it be? Did you- oh. You remember your dingy little car, sitting out there in the gas station parking lot. Your dingy little car that happened to have your suitcase in it.

Sometimes you surprise yourself, because how can one be this much of a mess? Everything has gone wrong tonight, and now this? You couldn’t even make it to your family’s house to surprise them. The weight of it all is beginning to crush you, forcing tears to well up in your eyes.

Stopping in the hallway around the corner, out of Jisung’s eyeshot, you shove your impending emotions down your throat, the roughness of the wall against your fist keeping you steady. You are not going to cry right now. You’ll find a solution. You just need to calm down first. Closing your eyes, you take in deep breaths, letting each exhale push you farther away from tears.

Once you’re sure you have yourself under control, you consider your options. You could ask Jisung for something to wear, or you could remain uncomfortable in your jeans for the remainder of the night. Now, you wouldn’t be upset about wearing Jisung’s clothes, not even in the slightest. They’d probably smell like him, too. How that man always smells so damn good is beyond you.

He’ll understand if you ask him for his clothes. You know he will. Hopefully, he won’t take it in the wrong way. It’s not like you want to wear his clothes, you just have to because you don’t have any other option.

Yeah no, you really just want to wear his clothes.

Rounding the corner, you expect to see Jisung on the couch only to find that he’s no longer in his spot, or in the living room, for that matter. He’s not in the kitchen either (which still has various baking supplies and smears of flour scattered about. You make a mental note to clean that up later). Huh. Maybe he went to his room. You settle down on the couch to wait for him, busying yourself with counting your knuckles.

Sock-padded footsteps cause your head to perk up in their direction. Jisung emerges from his room, closing the door behind him with his foot. His face lights up when he finds you on the couch.

“I wasn’t sure if you had brought any PJs or not, so, I grabbed some things you can wear,” He says, then seems to check himself and quickly adds, “If you want! You don’t, like, have to or anything, just thought I would offer.” In his arms he carries a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie.

You could kiss him right now.

“Oh my God, Jisung, are you sure?”

“Yeah, of course, it’s no problem at all.” He reassures you.

Jisung had offered the clothes purely out of wanting to make sure you’re comfortable. Sleeping in jeans is pretty awful and he didn’t see you bring a suitcase or anything. Maybe he also wanted to give you his clothes but that’s irrelevant.

He watches as you skip off to the bathroom to change with a newfound pep to your step. Jisung shakes his head, grinning despite himself. You’re just so damn cute.

This storm might just be the best thing that’s happened to Jisung in a while. Getting to spend time with you? And on Christmas Eve no less. If you’d have told him that yesterday, he wouldn't have believed it one bit. It’s like all his prayers have been answered.

He finds himself wondering, what were your plans before you called him for help? Are you upset that you’re here, at his place, instead of wherever you were heading to? Jisung hopes not. As much as he’s happy you’re here to keep him company, he can’t help but worry about how you’re feeling about the situation.

As if on cue, you appear once again at the entrance to the hallway. This time though, you’re all cozyed up in his clothes.

Jisung’s eyes widen as he takes in the sight of you. The sweats nearly swallow your feet whole, and his hoodie— which is oversized in the first place—fits almost comically large on your frame; hanging off of one shoulder.

It’s not the exposed shoulder that gets him necessarily, this isn’t the 19th century, it’s the fact that you’re in his clothes and in his house.

He swallows.

“You look- you, uh, yeah. You look good. Warm?”

Jisung’s reaction tells you all you need to know. You laugh in response.

“Mhm! Add this to the list of things I definitely owe you for,”

“Pshh, nah don’t even worry about it, i’m happy to help,” Jisung figures that if he doesn’t look at you too hard, he’ll be able to keep his brain from short-circuiting. “Do you want to watch a movie or something?” Sparing a careful glance back up at you, he pats the couch to back up his offer.

The couch dips as you plop down next to him, sporting that smile of yours that has him weak. You had looked so distraught just a couple of minutes ago, and just the simple act of him offering his clothes and a movie had brought your spirits right up. Cute.

Jisung rests his chin on his hand and listens as you lay out your christmas movie options, but he’s only half-paying attention. He knows that he’ll enjoy whatever movie you choose, as long as you’re there to watch it with him.

He also knows that he’s probably more than a little bit head over heels for you.

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆

The smell of freshly-microwaved popcorn fills the room as you and Jisung take your respective places on the couch, the silent agreement apparently being to keep at least a foot between your bodies at all times

You settle in and get comfortable while the opening credits roll across the screen. Jisung is tossing some popcorn in his mouth, having already eaten nearly half of his bag. You get the feeling that he’s going to be asking to steal some of your popcorn sooner or later.

Even with him being a foot away, you are hyper-aware of his presence. The movie is starting, but you know there’s no way you are going to able to maintain any sort of attention span with Jisung sitting right there.

Still facing towards the screen, you sneak a quick look at him from the corner of your eye, only to find his eyes already trained on you.

The unexpected eye contact makes your heart jump to your throat, and you quickly jerk your gaze back to the television.

Why was he looking at you? Is he still looking? You consider turning again to check, but then decide against it, preferring to live in ignorance for the time being. You’re not sure you can deal with knowing he’s looking at you right now.

Not even ten minutes into the movie, a particularly loud whistle of wind rushes past the windows. The lights flicker once. And then again.

Fuck.

You barely have time to turn and look at a now wide-eyed Jisung before both of you are plunged into absolute darkness.

A small yelp of terror escapes from Jisung, and you feel his weight shift on the couch.

Blinking rapidly as though that would make the lights magically turn back on, you find yourself scooting towards Jisung. A heartbeat of silence passes, with only the sound of your and Jisung’s soft breaths cutting through the darkness.

“The power’s out,” He observes helpfully, voice noticably higher than it’s normal tenor.

“No shit.” You pull out your phone to turn on the flashlight, illuminating your faces. Jisung squeezes his eyes shut at the sudden intrusion of light, peeking one eye open at you after a moment.

The light reveals that he is a lot closer than you had thought. Barely an inch of space was left between your legs, and you swear you can feel warmth radiating off of him. Huh. That little mole on his face is visible from here.

Jisung swallows hard (apparently a habit of his) and quickly combs a hand through his hair, pulling himself up from the couch.

“Hold on, I think I have a candle somewhere,” He still looks a bit frazzled, but heads towards the kitchen nonetheless.

You turn and cross your arms over the back of the couch, illuminating his path.

“You do, it’s on the counter,” You point at it, having noticed it earlier when you’d first arrived. “‘Spiced apple toddy’, huh?”

You grin at the offended look on Jisung’s face as he approaches, candle and lighter in hand.

“Hey! They’re seasonal,” he objects to your teasing, placing the candle on the coffee table.

T he lighter sparks into a flame as Jisung drops back down on the couch and lights the candle, bathing your surroundings in a soft, warm light.

Well. So much for the Christmas movie.

“That sucks, I really wanted to see what was going to happen to Frosty this year,” Jisung mirrors your thoughts with a sigh, crossing one ankle over his leg and shaking his head with a tsk.

You giggle, giving him a light shove on the shoulder. In the back of your mind, you feel like you should be upset about yet another thing going wrong tonight. But how could something be wrong, really, when Jisung is smiling like that. Smiling like that because of you. The thought ignites little butterflies in your stomach.

The power doesn't seem to have any plans to turn on again anytime soon, so you and Jisung break out a deck of cards. Turns out he’s a big trash talker when it comes to competition, which has you laughing your head off at the creative insults he throws at you. Seriously, how does he come up with these?

After losing your third game of speed, you realize that goosebumps have began to form all up and down your arms. Not wanting Jisung to notice, you try to smooth them down as nonchalantly as possible.

Of course, he immediately notices.

“Are you cold?” He furrows his eyebrows in concern, drawing his attention away from his hand of cards to you.

“Nope!” A shiver decides that it’s the right moment to shake your whole body. “Okay maybe a little,” you admit, “but I’m totally fine, it’s not bad at all.”

In all honesty, that was a complete lie. It’s cold as shit. You just hope your smile is enough to distract from your clenched teeth and slightly runny nose.

Jisung raises an eyebrow at you skeptically, obviously not buying it.

“So I guess if I got a blanket, you wouldn't want it, right?”

“Hey, thats not-” you start to protest to him poking fun at you, but your confidence shrivels when Jisung places his cards on the table, batting his eyes at you in mock attention.

It’s flustering, to say the least. He directly offered you the solution to your discomfort, and didn’t really leave you with the choice to say no. Which, you decide, is kinda hot. That seems to describe most of what Jisung does, though.

You drop your hands down on the table in defeat. “Fine. Can I please have a blanket?”

As a response to your request, Jisung simply hoists himself up once more, tapping you twice on the top of the head as he passes.

“Attagirl.”

The sideways grin he flashes you tells you that he knows exactly the effect that that little word had on your insides.

He’s going to be the death of you.

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆

You had just barely managed to compose yourself when Jisung returns with not one, not two, but an entire armful of blankets. In favor of just dropping them all on the couch, he decides to launch both himself and the blankets onto the couch simultaniously. His legs fly up behind him as he lands belly-down onto the pile of blankets, face buried in the soft fabric.

Whether he’s trying to draw out a laugh or not, you bark out a laugh that’s probably louder than the situation called for. You slap a hand over your mouth in embarrassment as he lifts himself up to sit on the empty cushion of the couch.

It’s intresting, the way he moves. Every motion so natural, every curve so perfect, it traps your attention to him like a moth to a flame. His muscles are lean, tensing when he pushes himself up. You follow the lightest trace of a vein trailing down from his bicep to his hand, absentmindedly wondering how his hand would feel in yours. Wondering if he would ever so lightly run his fingers over the back of your hand, your collarbone, your jaw…

“So do you want a blanket or what?” Jisung waves his hand, snapping you out of your head. You hope he hadn’t noticed the way you were essentially ogling him just now. He most likely had though, given how annoyingly observant he’s proven to be.

The corners of Jisung’s mouth quirk up, a witheld laugh brimming behind his eyes. Okay scratch that, he definitely noticed.

Too humiliated to say anything, you take a seat next to him and toss a blanket over your head. The outside noises dim significantly from under the shelter of the blanket. The blanket that— unfortunately for you and your creative imagination— smells quite strongly of Jisung. You find yourself having to refrain from burying your face in the cloth. Because that would be weird.

It’s warm at least. Staying here forever sounds like a good plan.

A wave of fresh, cool air washes over you as the edge of the blanket lifts up to reveal Jisung peeking in at you.

“May I join you?”

You nod, hoping the darkness will conceal your flushed face. Jisung scootches to sit next to you and flicks the blanket back over both of your forms. Darkness encases you once more, only this time you aren’t alone.

Jisung’s phone light shines out, lighting up your faces in such a way that makes you think he might break into some cheesy horror story; the kind that you were genuinely terrified of in second grade.

He’s close. Like, really close. You could count his eyelashes if you wanted.

His eyes crinkle slightly as he gives you a little close-mouthed smile. He looks so lovely right now, you can’t help but smile right back at him. Except your smile definitely isn't lovely since you’re cheesing so hard.

When he chuckles, a breath of warm air puffs over your face, making you warmer than you think you’ve ever been.

Despite being a good bodily temprature already, the urge to wrap your arms around Jisung and bask in his physical presence is getting stronger by the second.

“I’m still cold.” The words tumble from your mouth before you can stop them, such a blatant untruth that it makes your heart speed up.

Jisung’s head drops, shoulders bouncing slightly with silent laughter.

As if your ears couldn't get any hotter than they were already.

“Still cold, huh? You know what’s crazy?” He leans in just a touch further as if about to tell you some great secret, his voice quieting almost to a whisper. “Me too.”

Jisung arm wraps around your shoulders, and he turns you sideways, pulling you flush to him. How you seem to fit perfectly in the curve of his side, you’ll never know. Resting your head down on his shoulder and tentatively reaching a hand up to curl on his chest, you let out a breath you didn't even know you were holding. His heartbeat pounds in your ear, slower than your own jumping pulse, but much louder.

Wrapped in Jisung’s arms, you are definitely warmer than before. Which—since you really weren’t cold in the first place— has you sweating, the space under the blanket suddenly feeling small and suffocating.

You toss the top of the blanket off of your heads, inhaling the cold, crisp air now available to your lungs.

You’re not sure what comes over you. maybe it was the way that he tilts his head back to lean on the back of the couch, or maybe it was the little sigh he lets out, his breath just barely visible in the chilled air surrounding you. The hand that’s gently rubbing up and down your upper arm definitely isn't helping either.

You reach up and plant a chaste kiss to his cheek.

Jisung instantly tenses under you, every muscle tightening. You pull back to look at him, finding him frozen, staring straight ahead. a gorgeous pink tint graces his cheeks.

Always so confident until he’s the one being flirted with. Cute.

He’s silent and still for just a hint too long, and you start to get worried. Did you read the energy wrong? Was he just being nice?

You open your mouth to blurt out some sort of apology, but Jisung turns his head to look at you, eyes wide, searching your own. Your mouth snaps shut.

“Can you do that again?” His request is quiet and mumbled, nervousness evident in the way his knee starts to bounce up and down rapidly.

You reach up to grab his chin, his skin soft beneath your fingers. He’s real. He’s here and under your fingertips, gazing at you like you hung the moon.

You lean in, but pause to hover just millimeters away from his lips, your breaths mingling in the space between.

It’s not until Jisung makes a noise in his throat that is somewhere between a huff and a whine that you close the final distance between you two.

A white-hot flame ignites in your stomach when your mouths connect, only blazing brighter when Jisung runs his hand up the length of your back to rest it on the back of your head, holding you softly but firmly to him.

He wants you, everything about you. And you want him too, you always have.

When you part, you let out a breathless giggle. What just happened?

It seems as though Jisung is feeling the same way, a look of disbelief of his face as his eyes flick between your own.

“Thank you.” The two words that you’ve been skirting around all night finally slip past your lips.

“For what, the kiss? Anytime, babe.” He sends you an over-exaggerated wink, which of course doesn’t go unnoticed by you, but it is drowned out by the slightly more pressing fact that he just called you ‘babe’.

Not that you mind. At all, actually.

“First of all, I’m the one who gave you the kiss, thank you very much, and secondly I just- well, it just means, y’know, a lot to me that you picked me up… and stuff…” You wince as your confidence audibly dwindles, looking at the couch beside him, “So yeah, thank you. So much. I don’t know what I would have done without you tonight.”

“Hey, hey,” He brings your chin back up to look at him. “Seriously, it was no trouble at all. To be honest, I was so not looking forward to being alone on Christmas eve.” His gaze lightens, “So really, I should be thanking you because this is probably the best thing that could have happened to me.”

His genuine words paired with that soft look on his face make you realize that you wouldn’t rather be anywhere else or with anyone else tonight.

For the nth time tonight, you smile.

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revelboo · 1 day ago

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Your Soundwave and Starscream make my brain more happy than my antidepressants * - *

I like writing both of them and coming up with alternate takes for them

The idea for the first part popped into my head before bed and was still there in the morning, so I wrote it. But I keep thinking, what if Soundwave knew Shockwave before empurata, back when he was Senator Shockwave? Before they stripped the good parts away and left only the drive to preserve and protect Cybertron, before all the reasons he cared, every emotion but anger had been cut away along with his memories of why it was important to him. What if they were friends and that’s why Soundwave is so patient with his weird, unsettling behavior and anger issues?

Clumsy Heart Pt 2

IDW Shockwave x Reader, Soundwave x Reader

• “I can dispose of this one and find another if they’re unsatisfactory,” he offers when Soundwave is silent, visor dim as he just stares at the human. Displeased with you. Reaching for you, Soundwave’s hand catches his wrist when the human tenses as if considering jumping even though they must realize they won’t survive the fall. Head turning back to Soundwave in question, he waits. “I can find another.”

• “No. Leave it.” You’re only a human, nothing he should care about, but that dispassionate offer to dispose of you doesn’t sit right with him. Knows it’s the lingering grief, but the fear in your eyes, in your mind pulls at him. Makes his spark ache. Releasing Shockwave, he lays the back of his hand on the surface. “Come.” Those wide eyes go from him to Shockwave and back. You’d just heard Shockwave mention disposing you, of course you’re scared of both of them now. And yet, you twist your little hands together and approach him. Stopping just shy of his servos. Looking up at him with wet eyes.

• Dispose, like you’re a bit of trash to throw away. Because the universe isn’t done screwing with you. Apparently catching your ex was just the warm up to this horror. Trying to study them both without angering them, you can feel your heart pounding inside your chest hard enough you wander if you might have a stroke and not actually have to worry about what the giant, robotic monsters want with you. Because that might be the kinder way to go if all the horror movies you’ve watched are any indication. Dissection? Maybe you’re food? A plaything to torment until they break you?

• That anxiety and fear is nearly crippling as Soundwave crooks a servo. Needs you to calm down, because right now he can’t think. Little face grim like you think you’re marching to your own death, you climb into his hand and sit down, shoulders tense. And it’s worse. So much worse when you lay your little palms against him, your wild emotions crashing through his defenses, flooding into him. Shuddering with your fear, head bowing, he’s aware of the ragged, tonal sound of pain he makes. That he’s drowning in you, unable to stop it. “Stop.” Pleading because he can’t shut you out, your terror needling his spark, slicing into him.

• That word sounds like a plea. Like he’s in pain. Something’s wrong. Soundwave trembling faintly as his head dips toward the human. Doesn’t understand what’s happening, but it seems plausible that it’s because of you. Reaching, he uses his cannon to rake you out of Soundwave’s palm, hearing your yelp as you land on your back and slide on the surface of the desk, immediately curling into a ball. And again Soundwave stops him from removing you, grabbing his arm. “Why?” He asks. You’re clearly somehow a threat, so why restrain him? Why not let him permanently remove you?

• Arms covering your head, you draw your legs up against yourself and wait for the next blow. Wonder if you can make it to the edge of the surface you’re trapped on before you’re caught. If you can jump and land so you don’t break something. Needing to believe there’s a way out of this. That you can survive them.

• Venting raggedly as he watches you peek at him, he wonders that himself. You hadn’t been trying to hurt him, your fear just too visceral. A living thing, all jagged edges that can cut him. A hand still on Shockwave’s arm, he reaches out a single servo. Rumbles softly at you, making that low, tonal hum he uses on his cassettes to soothe. Spark aching as you shiver, curling tighter into a ball. Because you’re not a cassette, you don’t understand he isn’t going to hurt you. Ghosting that servo over you, he keeps humming to you. Coaxing you even as it hurts him, his grief and loss tangling with your fear in a confusion of misery. Unable to stop crooning at you through the agony.

#transformers x reader #idw soundwave #soundwave x reader #shockwave x reader #idw shockwave

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ghastlyfilters · 3 days ago

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random lost boys headcanons that i constantly think about!!

pairing(s): none!

warning(s): mentions of weed, religion, paul being a dirty little shit when it comes down to magazines

(here’s some random headcanons no one asked for but i literally think about these all the time and can’t get them out of my head. and yes, i know some bands and music artists mentioned in this were in their prime after the lost boys was set. but fuck it there’s no need to put dates on things when it’s all just for the sake of fictional writing. ALSO BONUS POINTS TO ANYONE WHO GETS THE OG BRANDON ROGERS REFERENCE IN THIS)

gifs not mine!! (if you know the original owner please tag them!!)

DAVID

• This man smokes like ten packs of cigarettes per day.

Think of a mukbang video but instead it’s just David smoking a shit ton of cigarettes packs.

Max has came to the conclusion that if David were not a vampire, he would in fact be a cancer patient.

• Him bullying someone is just his poor attempts at flirting.

• Makes multiple attempts at destroying Christmas decorations in every store he goes to during winter. When an employee looks in his direction upon hearing the crashing sound of tree baubles, he stares at them with that icy glare, looking personally offended that the employee is giving him the “Did you just do that..” look.

He’s a dumb shit that couldn’t care less what anyone else sees him doing. The employee could literally catch him smacking a glittery bauble off their mini Christmas tree with the back of his hand and he’ll glance over at them, blinking repeatedly.

“It was an accident.”

He’ll even turn to his mind control, allowing the employee to believe it was either Paul or Marko. It usually ends up being Marko, and he’s standing there biting the cuff of his jacket whilst getting the shittiest lecture from the store manager. Turns out poor Marko actually loves the place’s Christmas decorations.. despite being a bloodsucker that should resent anything to do with Christ. He just likes sparkly things.. ☹️

• David is so blunt to anyone who calls him self centred. He ain’t phased in the slightest bit by it. Marko’s said it on multiple occasions after an argument broke out between them all in the cave, and everyone was throwing digs. But the boys know David’s the most brutally honest being they’ve ever encountered.

“Who else am I supposed to be centred on?”

• He’s always dreamed of owning a black cat named Salem, but he knows the cat either won’t take to him being a vampire or the boys might accidentally forget it’s around and do something stupid.

(He really just wants one to sit on his lap whilst he’s in his wheelchair acting like Don fucking Corleone)

• Went through an identity crisis and forced himself to try and look like Billy Idol for a week. (That week turned into years)

• Dwayne’s still trying to convince him that bleaching his hair was a bad decision after a clump of it FELL OUT.

• If there’s ever a child crying on the boardwalk, David’s usually the reason they’re crying.

PAUL

• Is always the “C’mon everybody!!” person at the function. Yet when he runs off excitedly, no one follows.

• Never knows what to do in a chaotic situation because he’s that used to BEING the chaos.

• Cannot sit still for shit. He has to be fiddling with something or bouncing around the place like the madman he is.

• Paul’s a ride or die Mötley Crüe fan. He’s even lured some chicks on the boardwalk by playing Mötley on his boombox for them, feeding afterwards of course. (He’s the sneakiest little shit you’ll ever meet)

If he ever met a girl whom he fell for and eventually turned, his ideal date idea would be going on his motorcycle in the moonlit night and blasting “Kickstart My Heart” with his new partner riding along with him. He’s dreamt of it for years.

(Marko’s bound to third wheel though duh)

• He’s also got a thing for Alice In Chains, and he’s spent many drunk nights screaming the lyrics to “Bleed The Freak” outside the cave whilst meanwhile inside the boys sit in silence and are forced to listen to him.

• Paul barely sees girls with lip piercings but when he does holy fuck.

Just any kind of person who can pull off facial piercings is magical to him. Whether it be a few or a lot, he’s mesmerised by whatever kind of metal is in your face.

• Says “Pspsps..” to every kitty he sees on the boardwalk then screams the biggest “FUCK YOU!” if he witnesses the cat either pad over to someone else or look at him and run away.

• He’s always got a fucking rootbeer in his hand when he’s in the cave with the boys. Aside from blood, him and Marko live off of rootbeer. Ice. Cold. Rootbeer.

• Cherry Pie by Warrant is this man’s national anthem.

• Continuously has to find new weed dealers because if he has a bad argument with one of the boys, they’ll purposely hunt down his current dealer and drain every drop of blood from their body. This causes Paul to go apeshit because when he’s not out looking for prey or pissing people off on the boardwalk, you can bet his ass is in the cave stoned.

• On the topic of his severe weed habit, he’s not much of an edibles guy. He’d rather be sat on his ass smoking the fattest joint of his immortal existence and enjoying every minute of it. He’s occasionally gotten edibles for Marko, but Marko and gummies do not mix after the Frog Brothers started creeping around again.

• Has the biggest Playboy magazine stash that he hides underneath a pile of old denim and leather jackets in the cave. No one apart from Marko knows about them. Plus they’ve always been for.. special.. occasions..

Marko can’t help himself though and starts singing “In The Heat Of The Night” by Sandra when anyone innocently mentions magazines around Paul. This causes Paul to send his boot into Marko’s stomach whenever the boys are all assing around on the bridge, and he’s the first to fall.

“….. I’m telling David about your WET DREAMSSSSS.” Marko usually screams before disappearing into the fog below.

• Him and Marko don’t celebrate holidays unless it’s Halloween or Easter. They don’t give a fuck about the religious part when it comes down to Easter though. And if they wanted to, they couldn’t. They’re just there for the chocolate. They miss the taste of it. Paul will literally start fighting children during an Easter egg hunt on the boardwalk so he can get more for himself and Laddie.

(God help the children who push Laddie out of the way)

MARKO

• Goes into Claire’s Accessories and proceeds to tell the child who’s about to get their ears pierced how bad it should hurt.

(Also steals drip for himself because hello yes he does indeed fw a Sanrio earring set)

• He’s always the one who’ll make the most guttural moaning sounds if you’re on the phone to someone.

• Him and Paul are always found in the naughty section of Max’s video store.

• Whenever a fight breaks out on the boardwalk (that isn’t started by David or Paul for once) he doesn’t know what the fuck to do so he just starts screaming.

• Whenever one of the boys is hurt or sick (yes vampires get sick), Marko’s always the one who tends to them. He’s a massive over-thinker. David came down with something one time, and it was bad. Real bad. It was extremely rare, but it hit David like a freight train. Marko thought he walked in and found him in a state where he’d never wake up, so Max and the boys were left to deal with him bawling for the rest of the evening. Even David was confused when he awoke from his slumber.

• He has a bat plushie named Boris that Paul stole for him years ago. He gets caught chewing on the wings a lot but all in all he loves his Boris.

• Paul once traveled to LA and took him to one of those haunted house events for Halloween. They got kicked out and almost left their motorcycles because Marko starting punching multiple actors. It ended up in this big ass arguement because Paul swore for a moment he saw a glimpse of Marko’s fangs in the light and his eyes momentarily changed.

• The pigeons that flap around in the cave are like his pets. He’s down for just chilling with them and petting them if they let him.

Marko lowkey loves animals.

• He likes embracing his golden, curly locks. Aside from his fashion sense, he thinks his curls are really what gives him his image. He isn’t vain, but he does truly adore his little curls.

• Marko has such a soft spot for trad goths and their way of dressing. Whenever he sees one on the boardwalk, (which he hopes he will), he’s always fascinated by whatever outfit they have on. If they walk past him and the boys, he offers a shy smile. He wishes he could go start a conversation with them, but he thinks it’d be pretty dumb considering what his.. needs are. He doesn’t wanna kill people he thinks are cool.

DWAYNE

• Has the og resting bitch face.

• He wishes he could just stay silent and wonders why it’s not enough to just show up somewhere and have giant eyes.

• Dwayne used to get so many random people come up to him on the boardwalk and tell him how good he’d suit a black or brown eyeliner.

Since that day Dwayne has never forgotten those people and he always wears eyeliner inside and outside the cave.

• Major black coffee addict despite not even needing it.

• Whenever the likes of Paul and Marko actually try to engage in activities whilst on the boardwalk, some female will waltz up to Dwayne. Their approach and characteristics through their energy will allow him to of course decide what his next move is, but if it’s some yappy person who clearly has a horrible energy, Dwayne can be just as blunt as David is.

“How can I get to know you?”

…

“I don’t want to be known.”

And then he’ll walk away.

• This man is dedicated to leopard print. DEDICATED. In his mind him and the boys are living in some lavish mansion in 70s LA with leopard print plush sofas, leopard print pillows, leopard print bed sheets, literally everything leopard print.

If he had free rein to design the places he wanted to, he’d be ecstatic. (Literally all he wants is to turn Max’s house into a leopard print and cherry red museum.)

• When Dwayne actually smiles around people, it’s the sort of smile that can heal a thousand wounds. Like him coming out of his shell is the sweetest thing to witness.

• If the boys are off irritating the fuck out of people on the boardwalk instead of trying to find a good feed, Dwayne will occasionally sneak away and visit any sort of music store he can find. He could sit and yap to the people in there for days, and that’s really where he feels the most comfy around strangers. He loves talking to others about bands and artists like Judas Priest, Type O Negative, Rob Zombie, Pantera, Sisters of Mercy, Monster Magnet and Rammstein.

• The film The Crow ended up having a really special place in Dwayne’s heart. He loves playing little bits and pieces on his guitar for Laddie from Graeme Revell’s music from the soundtrack.

HII! if you have any lost boys requests send them in!! as you can tell, i really enjoy writing for all of them!! (i’ll write for honestly any lost boys character atp) <33

#the lost boys #the lost boys 1987 #the lost boys headcanons #david the lost boys #paul the lost boys #marko the lost boys #dwayne the lost boys #kiefer sutherland #brooke mccarter #alex winter #billy wirth #headcanons #character headcanons #hcs #horror headcanons #writing #ghastlyfilters

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whateverisbeautiful · 3 days ago

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I love waking up and reading your Richonne posts. You pretty much hit on every scene and I am so thankful for that.

Could you go over maybe a 2 part take of what you think had happened during the months of them getting to know each other during the prison times. Also, the months they got close together in Alexandria before they became official. Since, the show robbed of us seeing those scenes. I would love to hear your detailed theory on it because you know these two characters so well!

A 2-parter? You’re speaking my language, anon. 😋 Thank you for this message. 🙏🏽 And for some reason my mind read this ask and added in “a detailed play-by-play” of what I think happened and so that’s pretty much what I ended up writing. Starting with Part One - the time in between Seasons 3 and 4 at the prison that led to Rick and Michonne being like this in the season 4 premiere ⬇️💗:

I always like to think about what specific context from the actual show could most inform these type of unseen scenarios and then shape what I envision from there. So I first started thinking about where Rick and Michonne landed in the season 3 finale.

If I remember correctly they both rode in the car together after saying their goodbyes to Andrea, and Daryl drove the bus. I feel like that car ride might have laid another small stepping stone toward growing Rick and Michonne’s fondness for each other. I don’t imagine that they even talked much in the car because it was a somber vibe after losing Andrea. But I can picture Rick seeing Michonne quietly emotional in the car, and for reasons he’s not fully aware of yet seeing her upset affects him and his want to comfort her is stronger than he’d expect.

I can picture something like when they pull up to the prison after Woodbury, Rick just lets her know that Andrea isn’t the only one who thinks it’s good that Michonne found them. And the silence after is so clearly his “I’m glad too.” But you know how back then Rick tended to say something that felt like it was almost going to be a profession about his fondness for her but then he’d sorta retreat - I think he’d do that and just add that they all are glad she’s with them. And Michonne would just give an appreciative smile and walk away because she’d still be pretty heartbroken over losing yet another person she cared about.

Then I think going forward, that loss, on top of the loss of her boyfriend and baby, makes Michonne maintain a friendly distance from everyone in team family for a while. Like she’s always keeping herself busy by independently tending to tasks that help around the prison, going on runs, and trying to track down The Governor. But Rick still keeps an eye on her from afar.

And if I remember correctly, because it’s been a minute since I’ve watched these seasons, Rick and Michonne both weren’t members of that new committee that was formed. So I can imagine that maybe there were times when some of the other people closest to them were in meetings or away which may have prompted Rick and Michonne to chat a bit more - but still keeping it light and brief, not having extended conversations yet. Perhaps both would find themselves observing each other at times - Michonne seeing Rick out farming, Rick seeing Michonne out taking down walkers around the prison’s perimeter. Except maybe not watching her with binoculars this time lol.

Then, going off of info from s4, I think during these months that we didn’t see something that might’ve slowly but surely made Michonne lessen some of her lone wolf ways is when Daryl asks her to join him on runs. She agrees to go with him and they build a friendship.

And then whenever Michonne is back at the prison she starts getting closer to Carl too because they bond over things like books and comics. And perhaps Michonne and Carl especially bond when she brings back a bag of candy for him after one of her runs. They share some together and learn Michonne doesn’t mind the stale M&M's, and that becomes a running joke between them. 😊

So with Michonne getting closer to two of the people closest to Rick - Carl and Daryl - that starts bringing Rick and Michonne around each other more often too in a more social context. And this is where that crush we saw had clearly formed by the s4 premiere really starts taking root.

Like Michonne and Carl build this really natural, lighthearted, playful rapport and then it leads to Michonne lightly joking with Rick too. I picture that Rick is a bit bashful around her but they still occasionally have that flirty subtle-but-not-subtle “must’ve been something else then”/“you want to drive” type exchanges.

And Daryl definitely peeps these moments at times and knows you don’t even have to be an observant tracker to pick up on the stuff between Rick and Michonne. But he keeps those observations to himself...for the most part lol.

Michonne has playful banter with Daryl too but subconsciously she can feel that her exchanges with Rick feel different. And Rick loves it whenever Michonne spends time with them around the prison. It feels like family.

Other TWD scenes that I think give a glimpse into what that time between s3 and s4 might've looked like are when Rick asks if she��s okay after she hurts her ankle, and when Rick washes up and asks if Michonne needs help with cleaning up those walker bodies. Lots of exchanges like that going on. Showing they care and like each other but are moving slowly toward really getting close.

And through these exchanges - of which it’s rarely ever just the two of them in private because Carl or people are usually always around - Rick and Michonne start to pick up on more and more things they like about each other.

I like to imagine that perhaps whenever the community had some downtime in the evenings or nights, it’d so often end up being Michonne, Carl, and Rick hanging around each other. With Judith there too sometimes, who Michonne seems to keep this subtle distance from as the baby triggers too painful a wound.

But when Michonne starts to really care for them and feels herself getting closer to them - finding herself thinking about Rick and Carl while on runs and looking forward to their little exchanges - she starts going out further and further to look for the Governor - and subconsciously, part of that is to distance herself.

Rick isn’t crazy about her going off alone to find a certified madman but only really shows his disagreement in facial expression and maybe an occasional remark to Daryl about how he wants her to be safe. (And Daryl knows Rick wants that and more when it comes to Michonne, ijs.).

Maybe one time Rick does mention to Michonne that she doesn’t have to go out so much or so far but she’s adamant that it is something she has to do - hence why she makes that “It’s worth a shot" comment when she’s talking to Rick and Daryl in the s4 premiere.

She might already know Rick feels a type of way about her going on these missions cuz he briefly mentioned it before (and because he can't help but wear his emotions right on his face lol), but her subconscious also knows that staying around Rick too long is too vulnerable and wakes up too much within her that she thought died a while ago.

Finally, I picture that there’s one night when Rick, Michonne, and Carl are just enjoying some downtime chatting together as usual but then either Carl falls asleep or somehow he leaves to talk with one of the kids around the prison and it’s a rare moment where it’s just Rick and Michonne together.

And that night they start talking on a more personal level. They don’t divulge their life stories or anything because I don’t think they really deep-dived into getting to know each other like that until the second half of season 4. But in this conversation, they do open up just a bit more and give more insight into how they think and operate, which they refreshingly find to be quite similar. And in the areas they learn that they’re different - they find that refreshing too.

And I like to think that their talk on this one night was one of those things where - you know how people say they were conversing with their person in the early stages of getting to know them and they just never wanted the moment to end and they could have stayed talking to that person forever and damn near do talk to them for more hours than they realized? It was like that.

Rick and Michonne both know in the deeper parts of their psyche that spending that time together just felt right. Falling for each other is still something they're doing subconsciously rather than cognizantly at this point, but what they are aware of is that they do enjoy each other a lot. And how right it feels to spend time with each other also subconsciously scares them a bit. Almost like it’s too right too fast. So those walls go right back up after that conversation ends and they don’t really get a chance to talk on that personal of a level again until the prison falls.

Even though deep down both of them really would like to have that time together again, and low-key Rick is so eager for another chance to just be around her like that, that just hearing her riding back from one of her outings has him springing up from his farming session with Hershel in order to run and greet her and ask if she’s going to stay a little while.

And that’s my take on what I think happened between Richonne in the time between season 3 and season 4. 👌🏽😌

And Anon, you know you’ve tempted me with a good time by asking to have a part two about the time between No Way Out and Richonne’s canon episode The Next World. So I'll try and have a (possibly less lengthy 😅) Part Two on the way soon. 😊

#richonne #reflecting on richonne #asks & answers

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roryacker · 3 days ago

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WereGhost part 4

writing is under the cut as usual <3 couldn't force the art out, for some reason my brain won't let art on my phone happen, I've been trying for days it just ain't workin, and I have gifts to finish working on so PC is a no-go. Still! Writing!!

I do oddly feel more confident about posting things if there's art with it? Like I faked myself out trying to post this one 3 times and kept adding more thanks to that because I was like "wait no not good :("

Maybe because art's like. My thing. But screw it, if I'm getting over my anxiety I'm hitting all the weird triggers, it's a silly werewolf AU I don't think people care if one part has art or not

Simon doesn't like how Johnny smells. He was fine before, but since that morning the older man left with him in such a hurry he's smelled different. To a normal person that wouldn't matter, but werewolves aren't exactly normal folk, and smell is a very important part of their routine, Simon's especially.

Simon was familiar with Johnny's scent before- warm and herbal, a comfortable smell that Simon wasn't afraid to admit was soothing. It's probably part of why he's stuck around. Since he got back, since the anxiety and stress faded out, he's smelled different. It changed. It was faint, but there- something odd and flowery. Simon knew he didn't like it, but he wasn't entirely sure why. Maybe it's the fact it changed at all, maybe it's what it might signals, to hell if Simon knows.

Johnny, from there, starts going out more often, for longer, starting at earlier times, and the scent only gets stronger. It mixes with his original one, shifting and changing, and Simon hates it.

He especially hates it when Johnny comes home in the middle of the day, just once, and immediately gets to shoving Simon under the bed, blankets and all, muttering out something about not being prepared and needing Simon to sit still and be quiet for a while- Simon growls and snaps at his feet, though his teeth never connect, but begrudgingly does as told, ignoring the way his heart thuds in his chest and ears flatten to his skull. After a bit, cleaning up and trying to make the place look nice, it seems, sweeping fur off of the bed and floor, Johnny leaves, and Simon is left alone, confused and quite frankly tired, watching the door shut from the little space under the blanket hanging off the bed.

By the time a few minutes pass, he hears the front door open, and another voice starts up. It's not the older man, it's not Johnny, it's new and unfamiliar, soft and feminine, and Simon can feel the fur on his neck raise at the sound. Oddly, he feels threatened. He doesn't like the new voice, doesn't like the scent that follows, doesn't like how it's the scent that's been drowning out Johnny's for weeks now. But he sits there, tense and uncomfortable, listening to them talk in the sitting room. He doesn't like it, but he does it, if only so Johnny doesn't change his mind about all of this and kick Simon out after all.

It lasts for a few hours, Simon unable to fall back asleep, until he hears the door open and shut again. He thinks Johnny might have left too, but no- footsteps come up to the door, and he steps inside the bedroom, crouching down with a sigh.

"Think she likes me, Ghost. Might be the one, aye? Just have to see what to do about you, then..."

His heart sinks at the words, but doesn't reply- just growls lowly and shifts his weight, curling up further to avoid looking at the man.

"Aye, I know. Yer feelin' grumpy. Sorry."

Johnny tries to drag him out from under the bed, gripping the blankets tight, but Simon fights, of course. He can't go one day without being stubborn, especially not when he feels so personally wronged.

"Jesus, fine. Stay under there. Don't make a mess."

It continued on like that for a few days. Long, uncomfortable, grueling days, where Simon slowly began to set up a little den under the bed. It was nice and dark, so at that point it was really just instinct drawing him into it, pushing and arranging the blankets into a cozy little spot for himself. Eventually he manages to fall asleep even when Johnny has his bird over, as much as he might not like it- Johnny slides a plate of food under the bed to try and keep him from getting snappy, not that it ever works, and it becomes another routine.

Simon as tired of it the moment it began, but he tolerates it anyways, just to avoid being thrown out. His leg's mostly healed, and he knows he needs to leave, get out into the forest again, get back to his normal life.

But he doesn't want to.

He gets cooked food, he gets the warmth and comfort of soft blankets that smell pleasant- they're the only thing that don't have that new scent on them, at this point- he gets to sleep in peace without having to worry about wolfhounds scenting him out or humans coming across him, doesn't have to worry about any other predators trying to get a meal out of him, there's no hiding, there's no running, no wasted energy... but he can tell Johnny knows he's healing. He leaves the bandages on longer and comments on the progress he's made, and at this point Simon knows that if he doesn't leave on his own Johnny might just toss him out anyways.

The thought makes him uncomfortably bitter, a sour feeling that wells up in his chest and leaves him feeling nothing short of sick.

He tolerates it all for a few more days, making the most of it, and then watches intently as Johnny leaves, one morning slipping out from under the bed to watch him from the doorway as he leaves, locking the front door behind him. He loafs around for an hour or so, then shifts, standing on unsteady legs and adjusting to the feeling of being human for a bit- as close as he can get, anyways. Simon finds himself staring at a window for a long while, facing the woods.

With a sigh, he steps closer and pushes it open, and crawls out, shutting the window behind him and shifting back so he can break off into a run. He regrets it the moment he's outside, the air frigid and uncomfortable against his fur, feeling like needles against his skin, but he doesn't have much of a choice at this point. He does it himself or Johnny will do it for him, maybe throw him outside in his sleep or something. He's careful not to leave any prints, stepping lightly and never lingering in one spot too long. The beartrap that got him into this mess serves as a marker, telling him where to go, and from there it's just a matter of following old paths, and by the time night starts to fall he's found it again. His scent has faded from months of inactivity, but it's his territory all the same.

Suddenly it doesn't feel like home at all, but he reasons that it won't be come a few weeks, anyways, when the wolfhunts start again the second the town's dogs start to catch his scent, and he'll have to leave all over again. He curls up in a familiar hollow, surrounded on all sides but one so he can't be reached or found quite as easily, and falls asleep with the lingering thoughts of fleeting warmth and soft fabrics on his mind.

#WereGhost #Werewolf Ghost AU #Werewolf Ghost #cod mwii #cod #call of duty #call of duty mwii #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #werewolf au #werewolf #no art for this one #Writing #ghoap #soapghost #ghostsoap #modern warefare ii #AU

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lsunstreakerl · 14 hours ago

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Famiglia-Familie

Chapter One Analysis:

First off- most of chapter one is kind of over a few concurrent days, so this is a bit shorter than my analysis for the other chapters is going to be.

- I imply in later chapters that Max sees more of the accident than what I actually write in chapter one, and that's true! There's a couple of reasons for that, one being that I just didn't want to write that, and the other being a super convenient excuse for reason one! the human brain, especially a young one (like, maybe, 14?) is going to block out a traumatic event, especially the finer details. Max's brain is literally rewriting what he's seeing in front of him and during the actual crash, in order to try and minimize the psychological damage.

- This ties into the way that Max struggles to even refer to the accident later on- he cuts himself off before he says "Jos", he won't call it "the accident" or even really think of it at all. Max divides his life solidly into a "before" chunk and an "after" chunk.

- "But issi/sunny, why was Force India even there?" Honestly, the way GP and Max meet in this fic is complete chance. There are so many spots where it could have gone otherwise, but it doesn't. I mention at the beginning of the fic that it's leading up to the race weekend, but it's still a wednesday, so there's a lot of the support staff driving around. A group of the Force India guys, including GP, were carpooling back to the hotel when they see the accident site, and they're genuinely just being good samaritans when they stop their car and start trying to help people.

- Max's arm is bothering him a bit while he's still stuck in the seatbelt, but the way that it has him restrained, (which he can't see) is actually doing him a bit of a favor at that point in the fic. It's cutting off blood flow, so Max isn't feeling how majorly fucked up his own bones are. (For curious minds: in this fic, Max has a spiral fracture down the body of his right distal ulna, comminuted fractures across his fingers in a few spots, and an impact fracture on the distal end of his right radius. There's some impact damage on the proximal ends as well, where the elbow joint forms, but it's not as severe as the fingers and wrist.)

- Because of the way Max landed, Hayden isn't able to see the way his arm is caught in the seatbelt until he asks Max to start moving, at which point he asks for the knife. Hayden does have a moment here where he's looking at the injury and wondering if it might be better to let EMS cut Max out, but he's worried they won't get there fast enough, and this is a kid, trapped in a metal van, when there's lightning out, and he makes the decision to cut Max out, and whatever those consequences are he's willing to live with them. (Triage is traumatic and stressful and for those of you who care about original side characters, yes, Hayden goes to therapy.) ((also because he saw a dead man))

- When Hayden cuts Max out of the seatbelt to pull him out, Max gets that blood flow back, which allows his arm to tell his brain "we have a problem!" Which is why he starts screaming. Rough night for him.

- Max is having such a genuinely awful night the entire time that that as soon as he's out of the car and someone (GP) is being kind to him, he decides he's going to cling, and he's not going to let go, and there's nothing anyone can do about it. GP is such a genuinely nice guy, and Max is tugging at all of his heartstrings, that he's like "sure I'll go to the hospital" because GP and the Force India crew could see Jos, and they know that Max is alone now.

- Max gets morphine in the ambulance. yippiee!

- Max is terrified in the hospital, because of everything that's been happening, and his arm, and all he has now is this unfamiliar stranger he'd decided to cling to, so he's like "fuck it, all in, I'm attached to this guy now" and then he doesn't want to even let GP consider leaving, which is why he makes life harder for the hospital staff by refusing to let go of GP.

- The Force India guys called Colin as soon as they pulled over, letting him know about the accident and that they were going to help. Colin keeps in touch with all of them throughout the night, finds out from one of the other guys that GP is with a random kid in the hospital, and acts accordingly. (Has people collect emergency supplies for a teenager and put it in GP's room)

- GP has a reputation in the garage for being soft hearted, so no one is at all surprised about how the situation actually ends up, because of course the guy who always breaks for squirrels and gets out of his car to carry a turtle across the road takes in a child in an emergency, that's just how Gianpiero is.

- When GP first calls Colin is the hospital, he's mostly just getting reassured that it's all okay, and to do whatever he needs to do for the kid. Colin tells him that if Max needs to come to the garage with him for the next few days, Force India can accommodate that.

- Max isn't really thinking about the "not talking" thing until he's confronted when the social worker, where he makes the conscious decision not to speak, both because "that makes everything real" and also because he's in an unfamiliar country, and he doesn't have a legal adult taking care of him, and he doesn't want to say the wrong thing and accidentally back himself into a corner.

- "He didn't get letters for very long" is one of the subtler more heartbreaking lines, because Victoria continues sending him letters for months, Jos just doesn't let Max know about them, so Max thinks Victoria stopped sending them, and Victoria thinks her older brother doesn't like her.

- GP goes through the legal hoops in the background of this fic. Colin has to vouch for his employment status a million times, he has to call the British Embassy in Germany to get the ball rolling on emergency foster certification and then standard foster certification, he has to get the emergency foster certification from Germany, and he has to juggle so many emails. Your average person would be completely overwhelmed, but GP is a race engineer, and being overwhelmed is kind of his job, so he handles it pretty well.

- Max goes into emergency surgery to handle some of the worst parts of his arms and fingers, but the hospital is still super clear with GP that Max needs to have some follow ups. (Max ends up with some serious hardware in his hand. He still has struggles with fine motor skills, and he's got killer osteoarthritis in his fingers, wrist, and forearm, but the brace helps with it.

- "issi/sunny, any hospital that lets a pediatric patient leave that soon after a surgery of that magnitude without a thorough welfare check should be ashamed of themselves!" IM NOT HERE TO BE REALISTIC IF I WANTED THAT I WOULD GO TO WORK.

- Max not looking in the mirror goes hand in hand with him not speaking, or acknowledging the accident. He knows he's injured, he knows as soon as he sees himself in the mirror with his injuries that he can't fool himself anymore, so he's not looking at all.

- GP has no idea what to do with a teenager, which is why he's kind of awkward at first. It's important to note that GP, again, has zero clue who Max is. GP thinks he's taking care of a kid who had a normal home life before a traumatic accident. GP does not think he's taking care of a kid who was already traumatized even before the accident, and he's not able to pick up on some of those warning signs until he and Max are living together.

- "Why doesn't Max go straight to Michael?" Max is 14, and has been told his entire life that nothing is more important than racing, and so of course this would be true for a world champion as well, and Max is so petrified of being a burden that he doesn't want Michael to know at all, because he knows Michael will drop everything to take care of him. (He's been raised to think that kind of behavior is soft and he doesn't need it.) He especially doesn't want to tell Michael right before a race as well. Max is also still trying to pretend it's not real, so the less familiar faces he's around the better.

- Max gets really into the data partially as a coping mechanism, because if he's looking at the data and trying to learn then he's not thinking about the accident. This is also why listening to GP read it out loud is soothing to him. GP has a nice voice, and Max can listen to him rattling off numbers and variables for hours. This is also the beginning of a little routine for the two of them when one of them is having a hard time, where they sit and they go over data together. (nerds)

- The Force India engineers are so excited to have someone genuinely interested in what they're doing that they fall in love with Max immediately.

- The Force India garage also knows why GP has Max- they know that Max is from the accident, and they know he's very grim and quiet, so they actually do kind of make a game out of trying to make him laugh, or at least smile.

- Yes, that is the actual qualifying and race results for Force India in the 2011 German GP.

- I don't actually know if Paul di Resta is a good guy or not, and I didn't want to look it up. ignorance is bliss and all that.

- Max taught himself to be ambidextrous because he thought it would be a cool party trick, and instead it's totally saved his ass now that he literally can't move his right hand.

- "issi/sunny, did you actually look at places for rent in Buckingham for this fic?" guys, I ended up on one of the Buckingham city council's 117 page documents detailing next years public transportation plans from like 2013. do not underestimate the depths I will go.

- Max trying to figure out what he would even want in his room is a bit heartbreaking, and GP doesn't understand why Max struggles with it so bad. (Again, GP is assuming Max lived in a house somewhere, when Max's house was the van, and the van is gone.)

- GP gets attached to Max almost immediately. Here is this quiet kid, from a horrific accident, and he's so scared, and for some reason he's putting his trust in GP, so GP isn't going to betray that. And then GP finds out that his quiet kid is so smart, and that he likes looking at the data, so of course GP is like "give him all the data he wants" and the garage loves him because he's quiet and well mannered and genuinely interested.

- Word gets around the paddock pretty quick about the accident in general, because it made local news, and then it also spreads that one of the race engineers from Force India is actually taking care of a kid from the accident site, so Max has always got people looking out for him when he's around the paddock. (Max doesn't realize this in the fic) he's quite literally a grid kid, in the realest sense.

- GP spends the entire time he's driving from his old flat to the new house freaking out about the whole thing. He's very careful and responsible to not ever show that in front of Max, but trust that there are multiple points in this fic where he is internally flipping his shit.

Feel free to ask questions/request clarification on things! If you actually read to the end of this 🫶

#famiglia familie #fic analysis

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worldofkuro · 17 hours ago

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Painted Smile

Painted Smile XXXVIII

<- Previous Chapter |

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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