#i would ask someone to write this but the person who needs to write it the most is myself wahh

[endearng]

Firsts

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Summary: You and Spencer navigate through your firsts throughout your life as childhood friends.

WC: 6k

Warnings: death, grief, use of drugs to cope with grief, uhhhh i guess that's it

A/N: HELLO!!! It's been so so long and I'm sorry I took forever to update — uni's kicking my ass but now I'll try to write a bit more during holidays season. I hope you guys enjoy this one <3 Feedbacks are highly appreciated!

| masterlist

"Do you think we'll stay friends?"

"I'm sure we'll stay friends."

For a genius, your best friend, Spencer Reid, never seemed to notice some of his speech patterns — he would echo you sometimes, which you honestly found adorably funny, and he also had a tendency for rambling, even if it wasn't that appropriate at times. When you two were alone, you didn't mind; in fact, you encouraged him and let him talk to you all the way. When there was someone else, like either of your parents or a teacher (these were your regular companions), you would try to tap him on the arm subtly so he would know when to stop. Although it broke your heart, he said himself once that he appreciated when you helped him look more normal.

Right now, things are everything but normal. Spencer had graduated high school at the age of 12 while you were still in seventh grade and he was leaving to study at Caltech. You didn't dare to compare yourself to him, but you would definitely miss him around, since he was the first person you saw everyday (besides your parents, of course) and the one who walked you to school and then went on the way to his. Right now, you are sitting on the floor of your front porch, while Spencer is laying his head on your lap and you have your hands on his hair. You always said to him that he's got nice hair, no matter how he styled or decided to cut it. He blushed every single time.

"You know… I'm gonna miss you, Spencer."

"I'm gonna miss you. But you'll still be in my life."

"Will I?"

"I'm leaving, but I'll try my best to keep in touch. We can call each other. I'll spare a couple hours of my week so you can talk to me." A small grin stretched on his lips when he mentioned talking to you. A crease made its way between your brows when you thought you'd only talk to him weekly.

Trying to play it cool, you asked, just to be sure, just to check if the pang in your heart felt less intense, less hurtful. "Will you?"

"Yes, I will."

Despite having him in your lap, you couldn't see his eyes, for they were closed in delight from your gentle touch. You saw him smile softly and you could see just how relaxed he seemed with this big change — honestly, if you were him, you'd be terrified. Quickly trying to get rid of your sad and fearful thoughts, as you ran your hands through his hair, you poorly fought the urge to chuckle when you thought about braiding his hair. He felt the air that left your lungs hit his face when you did.

Curious, as he always had been, he inquired, "What is it?"

"You'd look good with braids."

"I'm not letting you braid my hair," even if his tone was one of mock offense, a chuckle made its way out of him.

"I didn't ask to."

You saw as he bit back a grin. Little did you know, but he's is heaven, here in your presence. In dire need of some place safe to just be, without the expectations and the big things that are expected from him and to happen to him. As you unknowingly soothed his thoughts with your gentle touch, he thought about how strange it is having someone touch him and not being utterly opposed to the idea. He also thought about how, for one time in his life, he didn't know something, which was the feeling spreading on his chest. Nevertheless, there was a ghost of a small, shy smile on his face as his shoulders relaxed.

He was happy.

—

As you made your way home from your sixteenth birthday dinner, something felt odd. Looking out the window, the city lights seemed to run from how fast your dad is driving. In the backseat, all alone, you tried to figure out what made you feel so empty all night long. As the car went over a bump, you instinctively looked to the side, and then everything made sense. Spencer wasn't there. Usually, after whatever family celebration you'd go to, he would be there (because you'd insist on taking him with you), by your side in the backseat of your dad's car, laughing at whatever funny thing had happened during the event. He was your company to every single thing you did, and you had been missing him quite more often as the contact between you two became more and more scarce.

Turning to look out the window again, your mom saw the frown on your face and sighed quietly, knowing precisely why you weren't chatting like you normally did. The specific pair of ears that you wanted to be listened by were not here. And she didn't blame you one bit.

As you got home, your frown was quickly replaced by a hopeful feeling on your chest and in your features when you found a voicemail addressed to you.

Hey! I hope you get home before midnight so that you won't think, not even for a minute, that I have forgotten about you. I'm so sorry I couldn't make it! I'm really stressed right now because there are too many things happening at the same time and I'm here all by myself, so... I guess you know, better than myself, how I feel. You… You know me so well. It is nice to be known by you. Anyway... Um... I'd like to wish you a happy birthday and, ah, I also would like you to know that I wish I could have been with you today. I'm really sorry because I know how much you love your birthdays. I'm sending you a gift, but I'm not sure if it will arrive on time. I miss you. I miss you and whatever Taylor Swift song you were always humming when we were walking back from school.

Anyway, er... I miss you—hah—I don't think I'll ever be able to tell you how much I miss you. And how much I miss our time together. Uh, happy birthday!

You didn't know when, but you had teared up at some point listening to him. You didn't know whether the cause was hearing his voice again or because he remembered you or because he told you he missed your time together or that he remembered the silly songs you'd sing when you were walking back home together. Before going to bed, you let your bedside table lamp on, as you always did before so Spencer knew, from the house beside yours, that you were up or you didn't care if he called you in the middle of the night. Either way...

You were happy.

—

Underneath the Christmas tree, the glow of the warm white fairy lights you and your mom had picked out was almost blinding. Yet, you and Spencer couldn't care less. You were both too infatuated by the blinding brightness that punished your eyes to care about having problems later. Closing your eyes, you smiled to yourself, happy to be doing something so ordinary, so dumb, with your best friend. Behind your eyelids, the light was not as relentless and it granted some relief from the current sight, which sort of looked like a kaleidoscope of... white. You heard when Spencer turned his head to look at you, but you missed his soft grin.

"It was overwhelming me," you explained.

"I know." He replied, still looking at you.

Your profile, under the yellowish glow, looked almost ethereal. The slope of your nose, the curve of your lips, everything was forever ingrained into his memory. By now, Spencer could map out every single freckle on your face — especially the particular one on your lower lip. He sighed at the sheer thought of your lips. You were now seventeen and so was Spencer. Puberty had been way gentler on you than it was on him and he noticed with a blush that you were growing up, just as he was. You were a little taller, for sure, and you had put on some weight in all the right places, not to mention your style that matched your personality. As for him, he had that voice pitch swing that he hated greatly, still wore thick glasses and overall went with the nerdy stereotype that everyone picked on him for… while you looked like you were glowing.

You opened your eyes and turned to look at him. You were so close that it almost hurt. Inches separated Spencer from what he thought would be the best feeling of his life. From the person that had him lying awake for hours, tossing and turning on his bed until the sun began to rise. "I can't wait to give you your gift. I think you'll love it!"

He grinned. "I'll be happy with anything." From you, he meant to say, but he didn't finish.

You closed your eyes again, a grin of your own on your face. He wondered... What if he got closer? What if he kissed you? What if you pulled away? What if you didn't pull away? What if you cut him off?

Almost unconsciously, he inched closer and closer to the point your breaths mingled together. You didn't pull away, not even for a second. Instead, you leaned in, getting ever closer to him than you ever had been before. The fairy lights made you look even prettier than before. You looked like a dream.

"I was thinking..."

"About what?" He asked. Despite his gaze being lost in you, he was acutely aware of the words coming out of your mouth.

God, your mouth.

"It's stupid..." You muttered, looking away from his eyes.

"You know you can talk to me." It's not stupid if it's you.

"Okay... okay." You breathed in. "Me and the girls were talking about first kisses. And I felt so, so embarrassed because I haven't had mine yet."

Spencer felt dizzy. Even if he wasn't the best at social cues, if he was reading this right, you wanted him to kiss you too. He exhaled softly, trying to clear his thoughts. His voice was weak when he asked, "And?"

"Have you had yours yet? I know we talk about everything and all that, but... have you?"

He chuckled at your question. How could he, the scrawny little nerdy boy have had his kiss and you hadn't? "You're joking right?"

"I'm not! I'm genuinely curious."

He didn't know, but your heart was in your throat, too scared of a positive answer.

"I haven't had my first kiss yet."

Somehow, that did nothing to calm your racing heart. Inching even closer, you muttered, "we could have it together."

If Spencer didn't pass out with your words, he was sure he would be unshakable for the rest of his life. Whatever life threw at him, it wouldn't matter as much as this moment of sheer strength and self-control, because he didn't pull you in immediately. "Are you sure?"

"I'd be fine with kissing you. You're my best friend. I—I know you won't judge me and you know I won't judge you either. And—and... even if things are... embarrassing... i—it will still be a good memory in the… future." As your soft voice reached his ears, he felt like he was in heaven.

Your arguments for kissing him made him wonder if you had spent that much time considering it as he did. "Okay, you've got a few points. I'm—I'm not... opposed to the idea."

Your heart burned. You both inched closer and closer, a hair width separating your lips. As your eyes fluttered closed and you placed one of your hands on the back of his neck, both hesitantly and surely, Spencer mimicked you and pressed his lips to yours with the lightest pressure as his hand found your waist tentatively. Your lips felt so soft and sweet. He knew he would feel you for days — and hoped you'd feel him for days, too.

Encouraged by him, you pressed your lips a bit harder against him. He gasped softly and you took the opportunity to capture his lower lip between yours and kiss it gently. Spencer could feel his heartbeat drumming on his ears and he tightened his hold on your waist the tiniest bit. Internally, he thought he died and went to heaven and that's how he was welcomed there. Your lips fit together so nicely and he felt his heart burning for you and he knew back then that he would do anything you asked him to in a heartbeat.

You pulled back to lick your lips and fitted them into his again. He sighed, again, moving to your accord as he tried focusing on how good it felt to be kissed by you rather than how you could regret it later. Distancing yourself, your eyes slowly fluttered open, finding his dazed ones already looking back at you. You grinned at him. Another secret between the two of you; but this time, it wasn't an embarrassing one.

He smiled back.

Later that day, Spencer sat on his bed, touching his lips, feeling the tingle yours had left behind. Smiling like an idiot, he wrote that date on the wood of his nightstand, black marker holding the evidence that tonight had actually happened, if he were to ever forget. If anyone asked, well, he would have to come up with something to hide the fact that he was relentlessly in love with you, but he would replay the best memory of his life in the back of his mind as his mouth stuttered out a little white lie.

He was so confused. And screwed. And so utterly happy.

—

At Caltech, at the ripe age of eighteen, on a working day, as usual, Spencer typed aggressively on his keyboard, writing an academic paper on a topic that had come to his mind during one of his classes and later inspired fully by a conversation with this one professor. Looking at the time on his computer screen, he cursed. It was already time he was supposed to be on his way to class, which was unlike him. There was a reason, though.

Last night, he had gotten home late. He had lost track of time talking to a girl whose name was Alex. They were both at the university library, and they hit it off immediately talking about Literature and then more mundane things — he had found out that she was a high schooler having classes with grad students, just like himself a few years back. Getting home late, his entire schedule for the day ahead had been ruined, so everything felt odd as he tried to navigate through his last obligations. He had gone to bed later than usual and overslept for some reason unknown to him.

As he got up abruptly, he knocked his knee on the desk, which was now getting very small for the size he had grown into. Shutting his eyes and suppressing a whine, he breathed in. As he opened his eyes, his line of sight caught glance of one of the two only photos he had hung up on his wall. The first was him and his mother, Diana. The second was you and him.

It was short after your fifteenth birthday, and he finally had had the time to go visit. You had greeted him with a very warm hug. That very same day, you had dragged him to your bedroom, which now didn't have the pink walls and the posters of the bands you liked so much anymore. Now, the walls were a cool tone of sage green and your walls were cleaner, the posters being replaced by photos of you and your friends from school. He had felt a tinge of jealousy, noticing just how much he was missing out on your life. Despite the lingering feeling, he tried to not let it get to him.

You thanked him so much for the gift he had given you, one of those polaroid cameras. He had spent so much time saving money to get you that present. The excited, happy tone in your voice during the phone call you had made to thank him made him feel like it had been worth it to spend that much.

"Hey, here she is! I named her Marie. From Marie Curie, of course." You explained, holding your camera carefully as you both entered your bedroom

"You named 'her' Marie?"

"She has a special place on my heart."

He chuckled. "You're so material, sometimes."

"You gave it to me!"

"I gave it to you." He whispered, a hint of a smile dancing around his features.

You smiled. "Come on, let's take a picture. It's her first. I waited a whole month so you'd be here to take this photo with me. It's only fair you're the first person to be photographed with me by Marie."

"Oh... okay..."

Holding the camera with both of your hands, you held it out so that it would capture the two of you. "Smile." You said, and, without checking his pose, you pressed the button, a big grin on your face, for the photo, of course, but also from being so madly happy that you were with him again. Spencer didn't know what do to, frozen on the spot because you were so, so close. He just looked at you, dumbstruck gaze on him as he watched you smile so beautifully at the camera.

His heart was doing somersaults.

After the flash in your face, you blinked rapidly, chuckling to yourself. "Oooh. That's uncomfortable, heh." You open your eyes and the first thing you see are his beautiful hazel ones, looking straight at you, as if he didn't even blink upon the bothering aftermath of the light on your faces. You nearly had to gulp under the intensity of his gaze. Then, you quickly regained consciousness and started fanning the small piece so that the picture would appear faster.

The result was the one now stuck to his wall: you, with the biggest smile on your face and he, lovestruck, dumb, lost gaze as he looked at you.

Sigh.

Spencer quickly shook his head, not meaning to be later and even more stressed than he already was. He missed you, though. And he let himself relish in that feeling of longing for a minute. Glancing at the photo, he couldn't help but think you were already eighteen. And that he had loved you from the first time he saw you — when he was twelve.

He sat on his bed, having removed the photo from the wall. As he held it delicately between his fingers, he thought of you. He always did. In spite of being late, in spite of everything telling him he had to go through his days, he felt something tugging at his heartstrings, a longing feeling that he should be somewhere else, something that told him something, so he knew.

It was time to go.

—

Back in his hometown, even the air felt different, despite exuding an aroma that reminded him of his younger days. It had been some time since he had visited, and the distance between you and him only grew further. Driving past your house — the state of California had finally issued his license —, he saw a somewhat big crowd of people, all dressed in black.

He felt like the noise around him didn't fully reach his brain. Like he was under water.

Robotically stepping out of his car, he approached the house cautiously. Almost as instantly as your mom welcomed him, he saw you across the room, dressed in black. Bloodshot eyes found him instantly, and a flicker of relief passed your expression — unable to muster up a smile, but oh so willing to show him that you were grateful for his presence. You felt frozen to the spot and had been standing in that corner for hours. A man placed his hand on your shoulder and that's when you looked away from Spencer. He noticed it, of course, and was obliged to acknowledge the blonde man by your side. You didn't smile at him either.

Spencer approached, somewhat relieved that you were okay, but so confused and overwhelmed by the entire situation. Almost unwilling to believe whatever bad thing had happened, because he had been so happy with you in that house.

Once he was within your earshot, you greeted weakly, "Hi."

"Hi."

Silence.

"Can we talk?"

Something about the look in your eyes told him that you desperately wanted, no, needed, craved it from him, his presence. With a subtle nod, you excused yourself from the man and lead him to the backyard. Sitting on the same bench you did when it was too late and you talked about the stars together, you reveal softly as you stare into the distance, "Dad's gone."

Spencer felt like he had been punched and all the air had left his lungs after your confirmation of something he was suspecting already. Finally, he blurted out, sitting down by yourself, "W—what?"

"He didn't wake up."

"He didn't wake up?"

"No... Last night, Spencer..." You begun, your voice thick with emotion, "he said that everything was alright." You frowned, tears streaming down your face, "That he... loves... loved me and mom... and that... that had been his role on Earth."

He stood quiet, waiting for the rest of what you had to say, still shaken by the news. Your broken voice and distant gaze were enough to skyrocket the pain he felt. Spencer absolutely adored your dad, and he was one of the few that Spencer confided in wholeheartedly when things got too rough for him to bear by himself. Even though your dad was the quiet type, Spencer would go as far as saying that he was somehow his dad as well.

With your silence, he had a little time to see past the pain. Analyzing your figure, he knew. He knew you had to leave. If you decided to stay, you'd be rooted to the spot and you wouldn't be able to grow any further, forever stuck into the never ending, relentless force of grief. Spencer knew that because, besides knowing you better than anyone else, he had left in hopes to escape the person he thought he was doomed to become. Your voice brought him out of his reverie. "I laughed. I thought he was joking."

"Maybe he was joking."

"Maybe he knew he was leaving."

Silence.

You look up at him. Asking for answers. For something. For comfort.

Sitting down beside you, he held your shaking shoulders as you let tears fall freely and you lost your breath and you choked on your own saliva. An ugly, guttural, desolate crying. Spencer held you through it all — he was ready to scream at anyone on the garden if they had the nerve to go there, but, actually, in that moment, you didn't care that somebody could see or hear you. The effect of the pills your mother had given you had started to wear off and you felt things way more intensely than when she first broke the news.

Dad's gone, was all that you could hear her voice say as Spencer turned his body to fully embrace you, placing your head on his shoulder and sobbing your pain as an effort to quell the ache of your loss.

It took every single ounce of self-control for Spencer not to break down with you, because in that moment, he preferred to swallow his own pain so that he could be your safe space instead. As your sobs slowly subsided, you sighed, squeezing your eyes shut as if that would make the pain that invaded your whole body go away.

"I think..." you started, but never finished.

Silence.

"I think you should move away."

You looked at him, baffled, puzzled, hopeful.

"What?" You whispered softly.

"I think staying won't do you any good. And you know I'm right." His gaze never faltered.

You took a deep breath. "M-my mom... Spencer... she doesn't have anyone else. I-I can't do that... to her..." You gulped. The meer thought of leaving felt exhilarating, but you had to stay. You were rooted.

"Your brothers are always around." He replied.

"Not anymore. Much has changed since… since you... left."

"I didn't leave." He said, defensively.

"I didn't accuse you. At least I didn't mean to. I'm sorry."

He pressed his lips into a thin line. "Would you consider it? Leaving, I mean?" Please, say yes. Please, say yes. Come with me.

"I would... I don't know, Spencer." Your voice was broken. "Too... too much is going on. I can't just... go."

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

"There's dad. And now mom. And that stupid college... I don't know where I fit." You fit next to me, he wanted to scream at you, but he realized it wasn't fair of him to demand anything from you at that moment. "I don't know what path to take without my dad here to guide me." A wet chuckle made its way out of you. He hugged you again.

On a sudden wave of boldness, he stated, "If you stay, this will be your life. If you go, you'll have somewhere to come back to if things go wrong. I—I… I know, um, that I sound very insensitive right now, but that's the truth. Why do you think I went away?"

"I can't." And your tears began again, even harder this time.

He sighed, holding you against his chest once again. Despite the unbearable pain of not being able to help, to persuade you, he decided to respect your decision.

“My father's in a casket. I have got no plans.” You muttered softly. His heart broke for you all over again.

“You've got me. And I've got you.”

Looking up at him, your eyes glimmered with hope. Desperate to believe him, desperate to leave. With him, if he'd have you.

But that wasn't how it worked.

You buried your face on his chest again, willing the tears to stop, to have some control over yourself again.

He held you through it all. He was there for you.

Spencer's stay didn't last long, even though it was filled with an unspoken, desperate beg for you to come with him, even if he didn't quite know how things would work once you accepted. After some thinking, he realized he was asking too much of you for the sake of trying to protect you from what he knew was going to happen. Losing his own father, albeit for a different reason, had changed him permanently and he was scared that you, losing yours, would turn into a different person too. The mere thought of losing you to grief was too much to handle, even if he understood that his pleas were unfair to you, not to mention absurd.

Spencer's brain was turned into a whirlwind of thoughts, all of them desperate to find a way out of this situation, to find a way out to get you out of that place — both physically and mentally. As he stood by your side during your dad's burial, he let you squeeze his hand as if that would somehow make the pain less intense for you. It didn't, but it felt nice to have someone to carry the weight with you.

—

Spencer had joined the FBI at the age of 23, when you were graduating from college. The difference was staggering and it made you laugh the same as it had when he was going to college and you were going to seventh grade. It had been years since you had last met in person, after all, Diana was the main reason he'd go to Vegas, and he didn't go there much because he was often too busy with his studies and his career. Once, he had confided in you, saying that he secretly wished that it would be enough of a good excuse to avoid seeing his mother in a facility and saving them both from the pain. Tonight, though, that would change. You were visiting him in Virginia.

A little nervous, you knocked on his door. Once he answered, you took in his appearance and your heart swelled at the sight. In your eyes, he'd always looked the prettiest, but now… It's like something had shifted: Spencer was all that you saw. And you didn't want to look at anything else anymore.

“Hi,” you greeted in a weak voice. Perhaps the intensity of your smile stole away your will to speak properly.

“You're here.” Spencer muttered, eyes filled with many emotions, but that you decided to read as relief.

“I am.”

“God, it's been so long,” he says, closing the gap between you and him, wrapping his arms around your torso, resting his head on your shoulder, not so subtly trying to smell your perfume. And failing to hide the overdrive when he noticed it was the same from all those years ago, from when you had first kissed.

Pulling away slightly, you cupped his cheeks with both hands and took in his shiny eyes, the ones that you adored so much and now met yours with a new perspective on everything. Once entering his apartment, you found that the place screamed his name, from the scattered books and the endless piles all over his living room. His TV had a documentary in a foreign language on, and you smiled to yourself. Spencer had never changed and, at his core, was still the boy you were once close friends with.

Spencer filled you in on the things you missed. You knew they were mostly about his job because he wasn't one to step out of his comfort zone — not that you'd judge him for it. “I miss having you around, tapping my arm so I know when to stop,” he revealed softly as you two shared a tub of ice cream.

Forget germs, forget pathogens, forget viruses, forget everything. She is here.

You giggled. It set his heart on fire. “Ah, Spencer… You know I only did it when other people were around. Other people are just other people. You're you. And rambling is part of who you are. Don't let that disappear.”

He smiled. You were still you.

“In fact, I have something to tell you.”

His heartbeat fastened, thinking of every possible scenario, reliving every single one of your experiences in the back of his mind. “You… you have something to tell me?” He echoed. He was still him.

Chuckling softly, “I'm glad you're still you, Spencer. I still say your name when people ask me who's my best friend. It's an excuse to relive our favorite stories as I tell them all about you.”

Spencer was left speechless, bashfully looking away from you as he resumed to talk about his days at the FBI. He told you all about his team, the people and what they found on a daily basis. “Do you think it's weird that I study what I do study?”

“No, Spence. You've always had a curious mind. Why do you ask?” You inquired back.

“I don't know… sometimes I think that people find me weird.”

“You're not,” you said, simply. “Your interests are very diverse, and anyone who talks to you will find that out. Being a profiler is not weird.”

He grinned. Your words or arguments about his insecurities throughout your friendship weren't always the most complex, but he always felt better by talking to you. He was never ashamed, never too scared of admitting something or voicing his needs. You made him feel like it was okay to speak, to want, to be. Whatever his limitations were and whatever words he left unspoken, they were never your fault. You'd never frowned at him, not once.

As the night progressed, he filled you in on what he had been doing for fun, mentioning his current readings — one of them on his nightstand. Giddily, you went over to his bedroom to find the novel that he was talking about, so that you could hear him talk about it and recite, by heart, quotes that illustrated his points and interpretation from the book. Upon entering his bedroom, you smiled to yourself. So Spencer. The sand-colored walls, the neat and clean floor, his slightly wrinkled bedsheets, a pile of laundry on top of his bed, a few scattered items on his nightstand — which, by the way, was the same in his mother's house. You had always found it amazingly pretty, the light wood and the black paint that covered the iron of the drawer pulls.

As you reached the piece of furniture and removed the book, you found something scribbled right under where the object had been lying. You were ready to give him a piece of your mind and you opened your mouth, ready to tell him not to ruin the perfect nightstand, but as you turned on the lamp to try and find out what was written there, the writing in black ink made you shiver. You fell silent. It was the date of your first kiss.

Time stopped. Why was that date written there? And why did the possibilities both scared and thrilled you so damn much? You felt someone behind you. “So, you found the book or what?” The question made its way out of his lips in a teasing tone. But, as you turned around softly, the book still clutched tightly in your hands, your eyes questioned him back. Not accusingly, only… curiously.

When he realized what you had discovered, the air left his lungs and he tried desperately to come up with an excuse. It turns out that he hadn't been asked by many people about the meaning of that date — and it's not like he had many visitors, anyway. “I… You… You… Did you… see it?” You managed to nod, weakly.

“What does it mean?” You asked, eyes never leaving his.

Looking away, he replied, “I was scared to forget.”

“Forget?” You inquired, shifting your weight.

“About it…. That night, I mean. about… us.” You gazed at him understandingly once he answered.

“About us?” Funnily enough, now you were the one parroting him. It would have made you chuckle if the situation wasn't that serious.

He breathes out, “Yeah, us.”

A beat of silence. You take a step towards him, and his breath hitches. “Have you forgotten?”

He searches your face. Upon finding nothing but support, he reveals, “There's not a single day I don't remember that moment.” You gulp and he takes a step closer, which makes your grip on the book tighten even more. You closed your eyes — a silent invitation, but it makes him falter once he doesn't have your eyes to navigate him through what he's supposed to do.

I'm glad you're still you, Spencer.

Encouraged by the memory of your words from moments ago and the presence of you, he closes the distance between you, once and for all. There's nothing that could hold him back from loving you once your lips touch and press together in a kiss that makes the book fall to your feet as your hands find their place on the back of his neck.

On any other day, Spencer Reid would be pissed upon seeing someone drop a book, let alone a considerably heavy one, on his feet — that's absurd. That moment, though, he couldn't care less as he squeezed your waist, as if trying to convince himself that you were there, that it was real, and that he finally got to do what he has always wanted.

Spencer and you had been through many firsts during the time you've known each other; some good firsts and some pretty bad firsts. But, there was a quote, from ‘Doctor Who’, that you always reminded him and yourself whenever things got too tough:

"The way I see it, every life is a pile of good things and bad things. The good things don’t always soften the bad things, but vice versa, the bad things don’t always spoil the good things and make them unimportant."

As long as he had you to soften the bad things and had your company during the bad things that made the good ones unimportant, Spencer figured that life would be a pile of more good than bad things.

[bunnwich]

HELLO! Do you have a summary of how you portray Leona's personality in your stories? I'm a big fan of your Leona and Yuu stories and I've read them multiple times www /gen I always feel like you just nail how he would act and say things and you inspire me to work on my own fics and get better at writing scenarios with him. Than you in advance ily🙏 🦉anon

How I Portray Leona in General and in Romance

HI ANON! So I've gotten this question a few times and someone in my discord asked me basically the same thing so I'll share with you what I wrote a few months ago about Leona and the general way I write him. (it's quite funny bc a lot of these things come up in Chapter 7 when we see his dream. I AM CURSED WITH APOLLOS'S GIFT OF PROPHECY WITH THIS MAN ISTG)

I hope this is helpful?? I would like to point out that the way I write Leona is fully based on my biases and life experiences. And that a big part of fandom is projecting what you wanna see in characters while still making them feel like the same character we know in canon, yk? Good luck with your fic writing! And thank you!! mwah mwah.💚 --

So Leona takes himself as a direct person, BUT he hides A LOT. He purposely misdirects people to get a reaction out of them. (Ex: pretending to be incompetent to anger someone) or he's playing with them. HE LOVES GAMES. Everyone is a chess piece, he has to feel in control bc that’s all he has ever had over everyone else; his wits. He’s a dickhead. He will say offensive shit to scare people off.

It’s a test to see who sticks around. He has no reservations when it comes to this. You take him as he is. And despite how some people write him he’s kinda silly? Like dad jokes. Why does he joke so much about eating people, who knows? (He says shit like Namby-pamby ffs) Why are you a 40y/o in a 20 y/o body?

I HC he purposely talks casually and gruff to distance himself from his upbringing. (I like to mix proper language and slang with him bc it feels right? Also lots of animal puns, and nicknames. HE'S CORNY AF)

In general, I don't think Leona is an entirely romantic person in canon, however in my timeline, I do HC that he, like Scar has this “want vs need problem” with connection to others. He thinks it's just praise he wants (or to be king) BUT he NEEDS TLC. What was Scar MOST jealous of at the end of the day?? Mufasa’s connections, a ✨queen✨, a family! BEING KING DID NOT MAKE SCAR HAPPY!! He needs to be needed and in Chapter 2 novella, he admits he HAS to numb himself to not care. I feel like this is something he constantly battles with. Yeah, he's lazy but it's partly bc he’s tired. He’s burnt out.

On the surface, he projects 100% nonchalance. He wants you to think everything he says is just "off the cuff", but it's not. He plans everything!!! He’s a mentor, big bro, caretaker. He is not the best at comforting words but he enjoys being a leader bc people appreciate him and look up to him. Something he never got at home.

Leona and ✨Romance✨

He fools himself into thinking he has the upper hand at first and keeps his distance keeping an eye on the object of his affection. Why would you catch his eye? Well, his greatest strength is picking up on OTHER STRENGTHS. Chessmaster. He is a mentorrrr and caretaker lowkey, he wants others to NEED him and rely on him. HE WANTS YOU TO NEED HIM.

At first, he would place himself in your path, trying to be helpful in a very tsundere type way. But he would still be causal and keep ruffling your feathers to gauge how you feel for him. He guards his heart pretty heavily. And more and more he is slowly collecting info about you he would find more ways for these meetings to happen until he realizes: "Oh shit, I’ve caught feelings." This one is the winner. He’s the king of nonchalance but also...he’s a very overly sensitive person. No doubt he’s freaking out a little, he doesn't wanna screw this up. But, he’d never show it.

I do think he wants to be challenged and given some pushback (insert manga panel about "something being harder to get and therefore is better"), He wants to WORK for it, to prove himself to you that you SHOULD choose him. He wants to impress you. It makes him feel alive. A person who keeps him on his toes.

And once this ”game” of cat and mouse starts to happen. He might start to let his guard down if you are shown you can be trusted with his VERY VERY delicate feelings, that you DO accept his flaws, treat him differently than all others, and see past his gruff demeanor. It is a test of sorts. He is testing that you can “handle” him. MORE GAMES.

He’d let you set the pace though. He won't be the first to give in. To kiss you or confess first. But he would fall first HARD. He’s not been given much one-on-one attention in his life so he would crave that time with you. Physical touch is a big one, but he would not be pushy. He'd tease your boundaries and become addicted to your time together.

But yeah, this push and pull goes on for a while, all the while he’s gauging how you react to this. Memorizing it all.

He’s def one of those texters who erases their sentence like 5 times when they are nervous bc he is cookin' up the RIGHT response to endear you. (Not in a sappy way of course more in a: “I know you miss me, mouse.” snarky sorta way.) Though he can be self-deprecating on bad days. He’ll act confident, though soften up behind closed doors.

I think once he realizes that you have picked up on his simpery and there's no going back...all bets are off. He doubles down, no longer ashamed of hiding it. (Assuming at this point the person has reciprocated these feelings too!) He wants to be yours and he’s not subtle. Someone to be by his side.

Then you get the REAL simp Leona, who lowkey mumbles the sappiest shit to you in his native language when he holds you, (bc he’s still embarrassed to be vulnerable, though this will fade over time) He’ll be your biggest supporter, and wants you around him as much as you can be.

This just keeps going until you're married. Congrats you now have a lion to take care of forever.🦁 Hope this helps!✨

[dazevi]

vi x reader angst where reader and vi had something before lockup (maybe reader was desperately looking for her/a body for years and never got with anyone else because they loved vi). first time they see vi again, they’re kissing cait. vi has to make a choice (mayhaps someone tells vi how much, how long and how deep reader still loves vi)

SORRY THIS ASK IS LONG BUT NO ONE WRITES VI X CAIT X READER ANSGT AND IM FEENING FOR ITTTT CA

I’VE LOVED YOU FOR SO LONG | vi x fem!reader, angst, squint of fluff, wc: 10k | masterlist

content warnings: not much! angst!!!, brief caitvi, childhood friend!vi, firelight kinda!reader, tiny mention of blood, bit of an open ending, uhhhhh ….

note: sorry this took so long but i hope u like it! (struggled a bit with the ending so i left it kind of open and hopeful :P

Growing up in the Lanes was never easy. The air was always thick wit smog and desperation. But somehow, in the middle of all the grime, there were moments of light—moments that felt almost normal… sweet, even.

For Vi, those moments often came when she was with you.

You were the kind of person who seemed to radiate something soft, something pure, even in a place as unforgiving as here. You were always helping someone—patching up a scraped knee, sharing what little food you had, or offering a warm smile that could ease even the sharpest edges of the Lanes’ harsh reality. Vi, on the other hand, was tough as nails, like she always was. But when it came to you, that toughness often cracked, revealing a gentler side that few people ever got to see.

You met when you were both kids, barely old enough to understand the full weight of the world you were born into. Vi had just finished scrapping with a group of older kids who had tried to steal a loaf of bread from Powder. Her knuckles were bloody, and her lip was split, but she wore her bruises with pride as she swaggered down the street.

Then she saw you—someone small and delicate crouched beside a stray cat with a limp, gently wrapping its leg with a strip of cloth you’d torn from your own sleeve. Vi had stopped in her tracks, her usual bravado faltering as she watched you work with such careful concentration. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen anyone show that kind of… tenderness.

“Hey,” she had said, her voice rough but curious, “what’re you doing?”

You looked up at her, your eyes wide and a little startled, but then you smiled. “Helping,” you said simply, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

From that moment on, Vi couldn’t seem to stay away from you.

She’d show up wherever you were, always with some excuse—she was just passing through, or she needed your help with something, or she was making sure no one was giving you trouble. In truth, she just liked being around you. You didn’t flinch when she got into fights, didn’t scold her for her temper or her stubbornness. Instead, you had this way of looking at her, like you could see past all of that to the person she really was. And Vi, who had always felt like she had to be tough to survive and protect her family, found herself wanting to be softer when she was with you.

The two of you became inseparable, spending your days exploring the winding alleys and hidden corners of the Lanes. Vi would teach you how to throw a punch, insisting that you needed to know how to defend yourself. You’d laugh as she guided your fists, her hands warm and steady against yours, though she always ended up pulling her punches when it came to sparring.

“Can’t risk messing up that pretty face of yours,” she’d tease, though her voice would always carry a hint of something serious, like the idea of you getting hurt was unbearable to her.

“You’re an idiot,” you’d say back.

And she’d laugh, nudging you playfully against your shoulder, her all ears red as she looked at you, “But I’m your idiot.”

You, in turn, taught Vi the value of kindness, though you didn’t do it with words. You did it with your actions—with the way you’d stop to help a stranger, even when you didn’t have much to give, or the way you’d bandage up Vi’s cuts and bruises after a fight, your touch so gentle it made her chest ache. She’d sit there, watching you work, and wonder how someone like you could exist in a place like this.

And it also helped that Powder adored you too.

She’d often tag along on your adventures with her wide-eyed curiosity. You had a way of making her feel seen, of treating her like she was just as capable and important as the rest of you, and that meant the world to her. Vi loved watching the two of you together, the way you’d laugh and tease each other, the way you’d patiently explain things to Powder when she didn’t understand. It made Vi’s dreams of a better life feel almost tangible, like maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for something more than survival.

And then there were the jobs… or whatever she could get from Ekko.

They were never easy—running contraband, sneaking into places she had no business being. Vi loved the adrenaline of it, the thrill of a plan coming together, but there was always a part of her that thought about you while she was out there. She’d see something—a trinket, a piece of candy, a flower growing stubbornly in the cracks of the pavement—and she’d think of you.

She started bringing things back for you, little gifts she’d pretend didn’t mean anything. The first time, it was a shiny button she found while breaking into a some storage room. It was small and completely useless, but it was the kind of thing she thought you’d like. She tossed it to you when she came back, trying to act casual.

“Found this,” she said, her voice gruff. “Figured you could use it for… I don’t know, something.”

You’d looked at her, a little confused at first, but when you smiled and said, “Thanks, Vi,” she felt something warm settle in her chest.

After that, it became a habit.

She’d bring you scraps of fabric, little bits of wire and string, or a half-broken gadget Powder thought she could fix up for you. Once, she brought you a single daisy she’d found growing in a crack on the edge of the Lanes. She’d nearly crushed it during the job, and when she handed it to you, she was so embarrassed she couldn’t meet your eyes.

“It’s just a flower,” she mumbled, scratching the back of her neck. “Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

But you always did. Vi would pretend it didn’t matter, but her ears would turn red, and she’d fumble with excuses about why she’d brought you something in the first place.

She didn’t know how to say what she was feeling, didn’t even fully understand it herself. All she knew was that you made the Lanes feel a little less bleak, a little less hopeless.

And as the years passed, the your relationship with Vi only grew stronger. There were always moments when the certain feelings between you became almost impossible to ignore—like the time you patched her up after a particularly nasty fight, your fingers lingering on her cheek as you wiped away the blood, telling her firmly to always be careful, as your eyes search hers. Or the time she caught you staring at her with that soft look in your eyes and she felt her cheeks flush, her confidence faltering as she looked away, muttering something about how you shouldn’t look at her like that. You’d raise an eyebrow in response, then just laugh softly.

But neither of you ever said anything outright. Instead, you found comfort in the smaller things—stolen glances, the way your hands would brush against each other as you walked side by side, the way Vi’s walls would melt away when it was just the two of you.

You were more than just a friend. You were her safe place, her reminder that there was still good in the world, even in the darkest corners of the Lanes. And for you, she was your protector, your anchor, the person who made you feel like maybe you weren’t as fragile as the world wanted you to believe.

But the Lanes always had a way of taking everything good and twisting it into something painful.

The night everything went to shit was the last time life in the Lanes felt even remotely bearable. It had been tense from the start. Vander was gone, taken by Silco, and Vi’s face was set in that grim determination she always wore when she was trying to be strong for everyone else. You knew she was scared, no matter how much she tried to hide it.

You were in the back room of the Last Drop, pacing. Vi had told you to stay put, her voice sharper than usual, her gaze practically boring a hole through you.

“Don’t follow us,” she said, her tone leaving no room for argument. “Just… stay here. Look after Powder, okay? I can’t worry about you and her while we’re out there.”

You wanted to argue, to tell her you could help, that you weren’t as fragile as she thought you were. But the look in her eyes stopped you. So, you nodded, biting back the words you wanted to say, and watched her leave with Mylo and Claggor.

Powder sat on the couch, knees pulled to her chest, clutching one of her gadgets like it was a lifeline. She kept glancing at the door like she was expecting Vi to come back at any moment, triumphant and unscathed.

But you both knew better.

The hours dragged on, the silence between you and Powder filled only with the occasional sound of glass breaking in the distance or the low hum of Zaun’s underbelly. You tried to keep your hands busy, cleaning up the room, organizing scraps of whatever was lying around. Anything to stop your mind from racing. Powder didn’t really say much; she just watched you with wide, anxious eyes, her fingers fidgeting with the gears of her monkey bomb.

Eventually, exhaustion began to creep in. You figured you were working too much. You remembered Vi’s words in your head, telling you that she’s always careful, that she’ll always come back to you. And you tried to stay awake, tried to keep an eye on Powder like Vi had asked, but your body betrayed you.

Powder had been quiet the whole night, but as you drifted off, she glanced at you. She hated being left behind, hated the way Vi always told her to stay because she wasn’t strong enough, wasn’t capable enough. She wanted to prove herself, to show that she could help, that she could save them. And with you asleep, curled up in Vi’s bed, she saw her chance. Quietly, Powder slipped off the couch, grabbing her monkey bomb and a bag of supplies. She hesitated for a moment, looking back at you. She didn’t want to leave you, but she couldn’t sit there and do nothing.

Not when Vi needed her.

She crept out of the room, careful not to make a sound, and disappeared into the shadows.

The first thing you noticed as you stirred was the faint, low rumble of something distant but violent—a sound that felt like it rattled through the very walls of the Last Drop. You blinked, eyes fluttering slowly as you pushed yourself up. The second explosion was sharper, louder, and your heart leaped in your chest. It was a sound that didn’t belong to the Lanes.

Your eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the dim light of the room. Everything felt too still now, too quiet, except for the faint aftershock of what you had just heard. You rubbed at your face, trying to shake off the grogginess, and then you noticed it—bright, electric blue sparks flickering in the distance, visible through the small, grimy window. Your stomach dropped as a sense of dread washed over you. Your breaths came quicker now, shallow and uneven, as you sat up fully, scanning the room.

“Powder?” you called out softly, your voice hoarse from sleep.

You looked around, the familiar clutter of the space offering no sign of her.

“Powder?” you called again, louder this time, but the silence that followed made your chest tighten.

You stumbled to your feet, nearly tripping over a discarded piece of scrap on the floor. Your eyes darted around the room, searching for any sign that she was still there—a glimpse of her small frame huddled in the corner, the sound of her fidgeting with one of her gadgets.

But there was nothing.

The couch where she’d been sitting earlier was empty, the blanket you’d draped over her crumpled and abandoned. The faint smell of oil and metal lingered in the air, but it was missing the warmth of her presence.

“No, no, no,” you muttered under your breath, your mind racing as you pieced together what must have happened.

You remembered the way she had been clutching that monkey bomb earlier, the way her eyes had flickered with something desperate and restless.

She left.

Your knees nearly buckled as you made your way to the window, pressing your palms against the cold glass. The sparks of blue still flickered in the distance, bright against the dark, polluted haze of the Lanes. The explosions hadn’t stopped, and now there were faint trails of smoke rising into the air.

“Powder,” you whispered, the weight of her name heavy on your tongue.

She had gone after Vi, you were sure of it. The thought hit you like a punch to the gut, leaving you breathless. She was out there—your sweet, fragile Powder—in the middle of whatever chaos was unfolding.

And Vi… Vi had told you both to stay behind.

Now, you were running as fast as you could.

And when you got there, everything was on fire.

Buildings were crumbling under the weight of the flames, black smoke billowing into the sky and choking the air around you. The heat was suffocating, stinging your eyes and making it hard to breathe. You stood there, frozen, your wide eyes scanning the devastation. The ground was stained with dark, wet streaks that gleamed in the firelight—blood. It was everywhere, smeared across the cobblestones, trailing through the debris, pooling in some places as if marking the spots where someone had fallen.

But there were no bodies.

No sign of Vi. No Mylo. No Claggor. No Powder. Just… nothing.

Your chest heaved as you tried to take it all in, your mind struggling to make sense of the chaos. The silence was deafening, broken only by the relentless crackle of flames and the occasional groan of a collapsing structure. You called out for them. You spent hours waiting, searching and trying.

But, there were no voices, no footsteps, no cries for help.

Just emptiness.

Nothing.

The days blurred into weeks, the weeks into months, and the months into years. Time moved forward, but you stayed stuck in the same moment—the night everything fell apart. The fire, the blood on the streets, the faces of everyone you loved burned into your memory like scars you couldn’t erase. It didn’t matter how much time passed. You never stopped seeing them. Never stopped feeling the weight of their absence.

Life in the Undercity didn’t wait for grief. It didn’t give you the chance to sit still and process the ache in your chest or the emptiness that had swallowed your world whole. The streets you grew up on were darker now, quieter, yet somehow more dangerous. Shimmer twisted its way into every crack and corner, poisoning the air you breathed.

You still had Ekko. He stuck close, as much as he could, and you were grateful for him in ways you couldn’t put into words. But even with him around, the loneliness lingered anyway.

Nights were the worst. The silence of your small, dimly lit room pressed down on you, and your mind replayed every memory of Vi, Powder, Mylo, and Claggor. Sometimes, you could almost hear their laughter echoing in the distance.

Almost.

You never stopped looking for her.

At first, it was constant. Every waking moment you scoured the streets, searching for any trace of her. You asked anyone who would listen if they’d seen her, but no one had. Not a single person could tell you where she had gone or what had happened to her. Some said she was dead. Others said she’d been taken topside, to Piltover’s dungeons. You didn’t know which was worse.

You looked for Powder, too. Sometimes, you felt like you’d seen traces of her somewhere, certain colors she liked, drawings on the wall… It was like she was there, but she wasn’t… like she didn’t want to be found.

And years passed, but the hope never left you. Not fully. Even when the streets seemed colder, even when Ekko begged you to stop putting yourself in danger, you kept searching. You’d walk the streets at night, hood pulled tight over your head, hoping to catch a glimpse of her pink hair or hear her sharp voice in the crowd. Every time you saw a tall figure in the shadows, your heart would leap, only to sink seconds later when it wasn’t her.

You wondered, sometimes, if she was looking for you too. If she was out there somewhere, wondering what had happened to you. If she missed you the way you missed her. Those thoughts were the only thing that kept you going on the hardest days.

The Undercity changed around you. The shimmer trade grew stronger, its effects spreading like a disease. People you’d known your whole life turned hollow, their eyes glassy, their voices slurred. Survival became harder with each passing day. But even as the world around you crumbled, you held onto the memory of Vi.

Her voice. Her laugh. The way she used to look at you when she thought you weren’t paying attention, as if you were something more than just a friend. The way she used to bring you small, silly things from her jobs—half the time things she swore she’d found by accident, even though you knew better.

You missed her so much it hurt.

Then, one night, Ekko came to visit you.

He had news about Powder.

He’d seen her, he said. And it didn’t make sense at first.

He sat across from you in the dim, flickering light of the small hideout you’d both retreated to. His voice was almost hesitant, but heavy with something you couldn’t quite name. Regret? Anger? Grief? Maybe all three, twisted together in a way that made him seem older than he was, like the years had weighed heavier on him than they should have.

You were hunched over, elbows resting on your knees, your face buried in your hands. It had been another fruitless day, searching for a ghost you weren’t sure even existed anymore. Your body ached, your head throbbed, and the emptiness in your chest felt like it might swallow you whole.

And then Ekko said it—he said her name.

“Powder… she’s not the same anymore.”

At first, you thought he meant something else. Maybe she’d grown up like the rest of you, toughened by the streets and the weight of survival. Maybe he’d seen her, and she was angry, distant, bitter about the past. You could’ve handled that. You could’ve understood that.

But that wasn’t what he meant.

“She goes by Jinx now.”

You lifted your head slowly, confusion knitting your brow. “What are you talking about?”

Your voice was sharp, tinged with a nervous laugh that didn’t quite land.

“Powder wouldn’t call herself that. That’s not… that’s not her.”

Ekko’s gaze didn’t waver. He leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees, his expression hard but laced with pain. “It is her. She’s with Silco now.”

The words hit you like a blow to the chest. “No,” you whispered, shaking your head. “She wouldn’t—she’d never—”

“She’s different, (Y/n).” His voice cracked, just barely, but enough to make you flinch. “She’s not the kid we knew. Silco got in her head, twisted her up. She’s… dangerous now.”

You sat back, your body rigid, your mind spinning. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real. Powder was sweet, shy, maybe a little clumsy, but always full of love and hope. Powder adored you. Powder idolized Vi. She’d never turn into someone like… like that.

“Where did you hear this?” you demanded, your voice low but trembling. “Who told you?”

“I saw her,” Ekko said flatly. “It’s her, (Y/n). She’s been running with Silco’s people for years. She’s the one behind half the chaos in the Lanes right now. You’ve heard about the explosions, the heists—the people disappearing. That’s Jinx.”

He swallowed hard, his jaw tightening.

“That’s Powder.”

You stared at him, the words refusing to sink in. It felt like someone had ripped the ground out from under you, leaving you floundering in freefall.

“You’re wrong,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “Powder wouldn’t… she wouldn’t do that.”

“I wish I was wrong,” Ekko muttered, his voice thick with bitterness. “But I’m not. She’s gone. The Powder we knew—she’s gone.”

“No,” you snapped, louder this time, anger rising to the surface as your chest tightened with panic. “She’s not gone. She’s just… confused, or scared, or… something. She wouldn’t just…”

Ekko’s face softened, but his eyes were filled with sadness. “I thought the same thing when I first saw her. I wanted to believe she could still come back, that maybe I could fix it. But she’s too far gone. Silco’s got his hooks right into her. She’s not the kid we grew up with anymore. She’s…”

He paused, the words catching in his throat.

“She’s dangerous.”

You shook your head again, your hands trembling as you pressed them against your thighs. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. Powder was your friend, your family. She was bright and sweet and full of so much love. She wasn’t… she wasn’t a monster.

The thoughts clung to you every night. Powder—Jinx—had become someone unrecognizable, and you couldn’t stop the questions from flooding your mind. What would Vi think if she knew? Would she be disappointed in you for not doing more, for not stopping Powder before it was too late? Would she think you’d failed her?

Vi. Her name echoed in your mind. You missed her in a way that was so all-encompassing it became a part of you. You missed the way she used to tease you, the way she’d smirk like she had the world figured out, even when she didn’t. You missed patching her up after a fight. You missed how she’d smile at you, telling you that things to brighten your day. You missed everything.

It was only recently that you realized why the ache felt so sharp, so endless. You loved her. You’d loved her for years, even if you hadn’t admitted it to yourself until now. It was why you couldn’t let her go, why no one else had ever been able to fill the void she left behind.

People had tried. There were a few who flirted with you, a few who asked you to dinner or drinks. But you’d always brushed them off, always found an excuse. None of them were her. None of them had her fire, her strength, the way she made you feel seen and safe all at once.

The years hadn’t been kind to you, but you’d done your best to survive, to keep going even when it felt like the world was crumbling around you. You’d thrown yourself into helping Ekko and the Firelights, finding purpose in their mission even when you felt lost.

You patched them up when they were injured, your hands steady as you cleaned wounds and wrapped bandages. You shared what little food you had, sometimes going without so they wouldn’t have to. You became someone they could rely on, even if you didn’t always feel strong yourself.

But that strength went away a couple months later—the day you saw her again. It was something you didn’t prepare yourself for. You hadn’t expected it at all.

The sunlight filtering through the cracks of the hideout’s makeshift roof caught on the edges of your hair as you worked, pulling ripe fruits and vegetables from the small garden that the Firelights had nurtured in secret. The air was damp but fresh, filled with the earthy scent of soil and the faint hum of life. You liked working in the garden—it gave you a moment of peace, a small break from the weight of everything outside.

When you were done, your hands were covered in dirt, and a bead of sweat traced its way down your temple. You wiped your brow with the back of your arm, sighing softly. A few of the others nodded at you in thanks as they carried the baskets of food away. You stayed behind, crouched by the water pump, scrubbing the grime from your hands and under your nails.

The cool water washed over your skin, and for a moment, you let yourself pause, closing your eyes as the sound of the stream drowned out your thoughts. But it didn’t last long. The quiet never did.

Once you were cleaned up, you shook off the weariness and decided to find Ekko. You’d been meaning to talk to him about something—or maybe you just wanted to hear a familiar voice. The hideout could feel suffocating at times, even though it was a sanctuary for many. Ekko had a way of cutting through it, reminding you that there was still something worth fighting for.

But as you made your way through the winding halls of the hideout, you stopped short, your breath catching in your throat.

In one of the side rooms, barely lit by the faint glow of sunlight filtering through the cracks, you saw them.

A girl with blue hair stood close to another figure, her delicate fingers brushing against the cheek of the person in front of her. You couldn’t make out their faces at first, your mind taking an extra second to register what you were seeing. But then the pink hair caught the light, vibrant even in the dim room, and your chest tightened.

Vi.

Your Vi.

And she wasn’t alone.

The blue-haired girl leaned in, her lips brushing against Vi’s in a kiss so soft, so tender, that it felt like the air had been sucked out of the room. Vi didn’t pull away, her hand resting gently on the girl’s waist, her shoulders relaxing in a way you hadn’t seen in years.

You froze, rooted to the spot, your feet unwilling to carry you forward—or away. Your mind raced, a thousand thoughts clamoring for attention, but none of them loud enough to break through the sudden ache in your chest.

She was here. She was alive. But she wasn’t yours.

You didn’t know whether to cry out, to step into the room and demand an explanation, or to turn and run before they could see you. You wanted to be happy that she was safe, but all you could feel was the slow, creeping weight of heartbreak as it settled over you.

Because in that moment, it was clear—Vi wasn’t yours to miss. Not anymore.

“You have some explaining to do.” The words feel foreign on your tongue, but they spill out before you can stop them.

You stand at the threshold of Ekko’s lab, chest heaving, heart racing in disbelief. The image of Vi with another woman—kissing her, holding her—flashes in your mind and it’s all too much.

Ekko stands abruptly, looking as startled as you feel. His eyes widen, and his hand instinctively scratches at the back of his neck, a nervous tick you’ve known him to do since you were kids.

“I—I was gonna tell you today,” he stammers, voice cracking slightly as he fumbles for his words. “We just got her last night… when we ambushed Jinx…”

Your breath catches, a knot of frustration and hurt tightening in your chest. “You ambushed Jinx? And now you’re bringing Vi back in like this? Without telling me?”

The words come out harsher than you intend, but it doesn’t matter right now. Your mind is spiraling.

Ekko holds up his hands, trying to calm you, his gaze softening. “I was going to tell you! I just… After everything with Jinx… I didn’t know if she was someone I could trust yet.”

His words hit you like a slap, and for the first time since you walked in here, a part of you slows down. After everything that happened, Vi could very well be someone you couldn’t trust. Someone who might have changed in ways you couldn’t understand. It stings to admit, but the doubt starts to creep in. You know Ekko—his loyalty runs deep, but he’s also careful. He always has been. You take a step back, your fists uncurling as you exhale sharply.

You swallow your frustration and let the silence settle between you, the weight of his words pressing down on you. Can we trust her?

The question hangs in the air, unspoken but felt, before you finally speak it.

“So… can we?” Your voice is quieter now, more hesitant. You want to hear reassurance, but you’re not sure if it’ll come.

Ekko doesn’t answer immediately. He exhales, a long, drawn-out sigh that betrays a weariness you hadn’t noticed before. When he finally looks up at you, his gaze holds something you hadn’t expected—a tenderness, a vulnerability. His lips curl into a small, almost wistful smile, and for a moment, you wonder if he’s seeing something you can’t.

“I think so,” he says softly, his voice quiet but steady. “I think we can.”

You sigh, blinking a few tears away.

“Who’s that… that girl she’s with?” You ask, your voice barely above a whisper, though your heart is pounding in your chest.

You keep your eyes on the floor, unwilling to meet Ekko’s gaze, because the truth feels like it might crush you. The girl you’ve loved for as long as you can remember, is with someone else now. And it’s hard to wrap your mind around it, let alone confront it head-on.

Ekko’s silence stretches out for a moment, the room growing thick with the tension that neither of you knows how to ease. But then, slowly, his eyes soften, and you can hear the careful way he breathes in, like he’s about to tell you something heavy. His voice is gentle when he speaks, like he’s trying to cushion the blow without sugarcoating it.

“Her name’s Caitlyn,” Ekko says, and there’s a noticeable pause before he continues, as though he’s gathering his thoughts, picking out the right words. “She’s… She’s an enforcer, but…she’s different. I don’t think she’s on Silco’s side.”

Your stomach tightens at the mention of Caitlyn’s name, and you can feel a bitter knot in your throat.You finally glance up at Ekko, your eyes searching his face, desperate for any trace of what this means.

“Are they…?”

Ekko looks at you for a long, quiet moment, like he’s weighing your reaction against his own thoughts. He doesn’t look at you with pity, though; there’s no judgment in his gaze. Just understanding.

“I don’t know,” he admits, his voice low. “But I think Vi’s been through a lot. And Caitlyn… I don’t know what they have, but I can’t pretend I understand it. I’m still trying to figure out where Vi stands with all of this… All I know is Vi wants her sister back.”

You can’t look at Ekko anymore. The pain of it is too much, a heavy weight that presses down on you like the sky is collapsing. You back away, trying to swallow the lump in your throat, your hands trembling slightly.

“I thought… I thought she’d come back for me, for us,” you say softly, almost to yourself. The bitterness in your voice is unmistakable.

Ekko doesn’t say anything for a long moment, but you can feel the weight of his sympathy.

Finally, he speaks again, his voice quieter, softer. “I don’t think she’s forgotten you. I think she’s just trying to figure out everything for herself… Besides, she was… actually wondering if you were still around.”

“She was?” Your voice is quieter than you intended, almost shaky as you try to grasp what he just said.

Ekko nods, though his face is filled with something close to guilt, like he knows how this news might break you. “Yeah. She asked about you when she came in… said she didn’t know what happened to you after… everything.”

You let out a shaky sigh, your chest tightening at his words. The weight of it presses down on you, sinking deep.

“Where has she been… all this time?” The question slips out quietly before you can stop it.

Ekko hesitates, his eyes softening as he looks at you. There’s a long pause before he finally answers, each word like a slow puncture to your heart. “Stillwater.”

The name hits you like a punch to the gut. You freeze, unable to process at first, the words echoing in your mind, bouncing off the walls of your skull. It’s a place that steals everything from you, even the will to remember who you were before. Your throat tightens, and for a moment, you can’t breathe.

Vi… Vi was there?

The thought twists something deep inside you, like a sharp ache that spreads through your chest and down into your stomach. It felt impossible to imagine Vi—your Vi—there. The strong, fearless girl you grew up with, the one who fought for every scrap of life she could hold onto. The thought of her, trapped in that hellhole, stripped of the fire that had always burned in her… it’s unbearable.

“You should… probably be talking to her about all of this.”

You freeze at Ekko’s words, your heart pounding in your chest. The thought of speaking to her again, of standing face to face with her after all these years, makes your blood run cold. Your chest tightens, and suddenly, breathing feels like a chore.

“I…” You try to speak, but the words get stuck in your throat.

What could you say to her? After all this time? The distance between you both feels impossibly wide now, like a canyon you’ll never be able to cross. The thought of seeing her, of facing the reality of what’s changed, of all the years that slipped through your fingers—it paralyzes you. You want to see her. You want to run to her and hold her, tell her everything you’ve kept locked away for so long, but you can’t shake the feeling that you’re not ready for that.

Your hands are shaking now, and you clutch at the edge of the table for support, your palms slick with sweat.

“I don’t know if I can do that,” you say.

Your voice cracks under the weight of your own fear. The thought of facing Vi, of seeing her and realizing how much has changed, of feeling the space that’s grown between you both—it feels impossible.

Ekko watches you, his expression softening with understanding, but there’s something else in his eyes, something unreadable.

“I get it,” he says quietly, taking a step closer to you, placing a hand on your shoulder. “You don’t have to rush into anything. I know you’ve been carrying this around for a long time.”

But the truth is, you don’t just carry the weight of all that time apart—you carry the weight of your own fear. Fear that she’ll see you as a stranger. Fear that you won’t know how to talk to her anymore. Fear that everything that once felt so easy between you and Vi will have changed beyond recognition. The thought of her not loving you anymore, or of you not being able to love her the same way, makes your stomach churn.

You bite your lip, unable to finish the thought, as your mind races in a thousand different directions.

“Does she know I’m here?”

Ekko’s gaze shifts, and for a moment, there’s a flicker of hesitation in his eyes. He looks like he’s struggling with something, something he doesn’t want to say, but he knows he has to. He shifts on his feet, a sigh escaping him as he scratches the back of his neck again, the tension in his posture telling you more than his words ever could.

“I… I told her you’re around,” Ekko finally says, his voice soft but weighed with caution. “Not here exactly, though. I wanted to warn you before…”

Before everything changes.

But a knock at the door stills the air in the room. It’s sharp, sudden, and it cuts through the heavy silence that’s settled between you. You don’t move at first and Ekko hesitates for a moment, then turns, just as the door creaks open.

And then, there she is.

You freeze, unable to breathe, unable to move as your eyes lock onto hers. It’s like the whole world stops for a moment—your heart, your thoughts, everything. She’s standing there, in the doorway, her eyes wide as they sweep over you. It’s as if she’s seeing you for the first time, like she can’t quite believe you’re here. That you’re real.

Her gaze flickers across you—your eyes, your face, the way you’ve changed over the years. You can see the shock in her features, the way her breath catches for a split second before she can speak.

“(Y/n),” she whispers, her voice raw, as if the sound of your name in her mouth is a shock to her as much as it is to you.

There’s a long pause. Neither of you move, neither of you speak, as if neither of you knows how to start, what to say. Vi stands there, her eyes fixed on you, and you can see the wheels turning behind her expression. She doesn’t look the same as the girl you once knew, but her eyes—those blue eyes—are still the same, full of emotions you can’t quite place.

Vi’s eyes trail down your form, and you can see her struggling to hide the way her gaze softens as she takes in how you’ve grown, how you’ve changed. You’re different now—more than just the girl she once knew in the Lanes—but somehow, at the same time, you’re still the same person. The one who was always kind, always caring. The one who had a heart too big for the world they were in.

You watch as her eyes linger on you, not saying a word, just staring. A small breath escapes her lips, like she’s struggling to hold back some emotion, some surge of feelings that are too heavy for her to put into words. She opens her mouth to speak, but then closes it again, like the words are stuck inside her.

“I, um… I have work to do, Ekko.” Your voice cracks, and you can feel the tears stinging at the back of your eyes.

You tear your gaze away from Vi, your heart pounding in your chest as if it’s trying to break free. The weight of everything, of all the lost time, of everything you thought you had buried, feels like it’s crashing down on you in waves.

You can’t look at her anymore. Not like this. Not when everything in you is screaming to hold her, to ask her why she left, to beg her to stay. But you can’t. Not yet. Not when the hurt is still so raw.

You turn quickly, brushing past Vi with a sharp movement, your steps frantic, but trying to remain composed. Your heart races in your chest as you feel the heat of her eyes on your back, but you don’t look back. You can’t. The moment you do, you’re afraid you’ll break, and you can’t afford to break now.

The door slams shut behind you, and you can hear the soft echo of your hurried footsteps fading as you walk away. You don’t look up, don’t let yourself feel the weight of the emptiness in the room, even though you know it’s all there.

But you’re not ready. Not yet.

Ekko watches the door for a moment, his gaze thoughtful and a little sad. He doesn’t say anything, knowing that nothing he could say will ease the tension in the room.

Vi stands there, still frozen, her mind processing everything all at once. The way you walked out, the way you didn’t look back, how quickly you shut yourself off. She swallows hard, as if trying to force her emotions to settle. But they don’t. They’re all tangled up in her chest. She wants to go after you. She wants to explain.

“(Y/n)…” Vi whispers the name, barely above a breath, as if saying it out loud will somehow make it real, bring back the girl she thought she had lost forever. “She’s… grown.”

“We all have.”

His eyes flicker to Vi, his expression unreadable. He takes a deep breath, trying to find the right words, but nothing feels quite right. He knows how this is going to land—knows it’s going to hurt, even though he wishes it didn’t have to be this way.

“I think she saw you and Caitlyn,” he says quietly. “Together, I mean.”

Vi’s body stiffens at the mention of Caitlyn’s name, her eyes snapping to Ekko in disbelief. The shock is instant, followed by a sharp pang of guilt that twists in her chest. Her mind races, trying to make sense of the situation—of the way you had looked at her, of how you had walked out without saying anything more, as if something between the two of you had shattered. And now this. She opens her mouth to speak, but the words get stuck, tangled in her throat.

Ekko slumps back in his chair, his fingers tapping restlessly against the worn surface of his desk. He doesn’t know what to say to either of them. His gaze remains fixed on Vi, her posture still stiff, eyes distant.

“She thinks you’re together…” Ekko looks at Vi with curiosity. “Are you?”

Vi’s heart stutters in her chest, and she looks away quickly, swallowing hard.

“No,” she answers, almost too quickly. “No, we’re not together.”

Her voice wavers slightly, the truth of her feelings suddenly coming to the surface, uninvited but undeniable. Caitlyn is kind and gentle, but it’s never been like that with her. She only met her this week. Vi doesn’t know what it is, but it’s not love—not like what she’s felt, and still feels, for you.

The kiss was… a moment of comfort, of trying to hold onto something familiar in a world that’s changed beyond recognition. It meant nothing. Or at least, it shouldn’t have meant anything. But now, knowing that you’d seen it, knowing that it might hurt you—it stings. And it stings more than she’s willing to admit.

Ekko watches her for a moment and sighs. He knows Vi well enough to see that flicker of something in her eyes, that far-off look, the hesitation that’s always there when she’s thinking about you.

“You don’t have to explain it to me,” he mutters, “But you do need to talk to her.”

Vi nods slowly, her gaze flicking toward the door again.

“Yeah,” she says quietly, almost as if to herself. “I know. I just… I don’t know what to say. It’s been so long, Ekko.”

Ekko exhales sharply, leaning back in his chair. “She looked for you, you know. She hasn’t stopped. And she’s been alone for a long time too, Vi. She deserves to hear it.”

Vi doesn’t respond. The words hit her harder than she’s willing to admit. She knows Ekko’s right, but the fear of rejection still clings to her like a shadow. She’s afraid of what will happen if she faces you, afraid of seeing that disappointment in your eyes, hearing the anger in your voice. Afraid that even if she tries, it won’t be enough.

She takes a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment settling in her chest.

“I’ll go find her.”

The climb to the top of the tree feels longer than it should, but Vi knows she’s stalling. Her hands grip the wooden edges tighter than they need to as she hauls herself up, each rung feeling like a step closer to a moment she’s not sure she’s ready for. Ekko’s words still echo in her head—She’s probably already up there, and needs the space, but… she deserves to hear from you.

And now, standing at the edge of the makeshift platform high above the Firelights’ hideout, Vi spots you. You’re sitting near the edge, your legs dangling over, one hand resting loosely on the ground for balance. The jukebox below hums softly, sending the faint notes of a melancholy tune drifting up through the cool night air. The lights of the community twinkle far beneath you, and the laughter and chatter of the people below seem like they belong to another world entirely.

Vi freezes for a moment, her breath catching in her throat. You haven’t noticed her yet, and she’s glad for it because it gives her time to take you in.

It’s been years since she’s seen you like this—quiet, lost in your own world. There’s something familiar in the way you tilt your head as you gaze out at the lights below, something achingly reminiscent of the person she remembers from all those years ago. She can’t help but wonder if you’re still the same in other ways, too. If you still laugh at dumb jokes, or hum to yourself when you’re deep in thought. If you still carry that kindness in your heart, despite everything the world’s thrown at you.

But there’s also something different, something that makes her chest ache. You look older. Wiser, maybe. More beautiful than she remembers, though she feels like that’s impossible, because she’s always thought you were the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.

God, you’re beautiful. The thought hits her so suddenly that it makes her chest ache. It’s not just the way you look, though that alone would be enough to leave her speechless. It’s everything about you—the way you seem so untouchable and yet so heartbreakingly human all at once. She feels like a fool for standing here and staring, but for the life of her, she can’t seem to look away.

And then there’s the way the moonlight catches on your face, illuminating the faint shimmer of unshed tears in your eyes. Vi doesn’t even need to see your expression to know what you’re feeling.

For a long moment, she just stands there, unsure of what to do or say. She wants to run to you, to pull you into her arms and tell you she’s sorry, that she’s here, that she’s not going anywhere this time. But she knows it’s not that simple. It’s never that simple.

Finally, she takes a hesitant step forward, her boots making a soft thud against the wooden planks. You stiffen slightly, your head turning just enough to catch her in your peripheral vision. You don’t say anything, but the way your shoulders tense tells her you’ve already guessed it’s her.

Vi hesitates again, her heart pounding in her chest as she moves to sit beside you. She doesn’t get too close, leaving enough space between you that you won’t feel trapped, but close enough that she can see the way your fingers grip the edge of the platform like it’s the only thing keeping you grounded.

For a few seconds, the silence between you is unbearable. Vi glances at you from the corner of her eye, her mouth opening as if to speak, but the words don’t come. She’s never been good at this—talking about feelings, finding the right thing to say.

But as she watches you, she knows she has to try.

“Nice spot you’ve got here,” she says, her voice softer than she intended. “It’s quiet… Beats the chaos down there.”

It’s not much, and she knows it. She winces at how lame she sounds, but she’s not sure she trusts herself to say anything more. She’s afraid if she does, it’ll all come tumbling out—the guilt, the regret, the years of wondering what could’ve been if she hadn’t been taken, if she’d fought harder, if she’d found a way back sooner.

You don’t respond right away, and she can’t tell if it’s because you’re ignoring her or because you just don’t know what to say either. She glances at you again, her eyes lingering on the curve of your jaw, the way your lashes cast faint shadows against your cheeks.

You’re so close, but it feels like there’s an entire world between you.

When you finally do speak, your voice is so soft, almost drowned out by the music drifting up from below. “It’s always been my place to think. To get away… I have Ekko to thank for it.”

Your words are simple, but they carry so much weight, and Vi feels the knot in her chest tighten. She wonders what you’ve been thinking about up here all this time. If you’ve been thinking about her. If you’ve been wondering where she’s been, what she’s been doing, why she never came back.

“I can see why,” Vi says, trying to keep her tone light even though her heart is pounding. “It’s got a hell of a view.”

She means the lights, of course, the way they twinkle below like stars scattered across the ground. But as she says it, she realizes she’s not looking at the lights at all. She’s looking at you.

You finally turn to look at her, and the look in your eyes nearly breaks her. There’s so much there—pain, anger, sadness—but there’s something else, too. Something softer. Something she doesn’t think she deserves but hopes for anyway.

“I didn’t think you’d come up here,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Vi looks at you, her throat tight, and she wishes she had the courage to tell you the truth. That she’s here because she couldn’t stay away. That she misses you.

Instead, she just nods, her voice low and a little rough when she finally speaks. “I wasn’t sure if you’d want me to.”

You look away again, your gaze returning to the lights below, and Vi knows she should say more, but she’s afraid. Afraid of making things worse. Afraid of losing whatever small chance she might have left to fix things.

She looks at you softly, “How have you been?”

You don’t answer right away.

The silence lingers. Vi shifts slightly, her body aching to close the distance, to somehow make things right, but she doesn’t move.

Then, it’s you who breaks the quiet after a short while, your voice soft and tentative, almost as if speaking too loudly might shatter the everything around you.

“It’s hard to think about you in prison,” you say, the words stumbling out of you before you can stop them.

Vi stiffens at the mention of it. Her chest tightens, as though she’s been struck, but she doesn’t look at you, doesn’t dare.

“I know it must’ve been hard,” you continue, your gaze still locked on the flickering lights below. “Being in there… for so long. I can’t even imagine how it felt. It must’ve been… suffocating.”

Vi can hear the way you say it, that compassion in your voice that makes her want to crumble. You’ve always been so gentle, even when the world around you was anything but.

The memories are sharp, jagged shards of regret that pierce her chest whenever she lets herself think about it. The days in that cold, lonely cell feel like a lifetime ago, but the scars—physical and emotional—are still fresh. The world had felt like a cruel, unyielding force back then. Every day in prison, every blow to her body, every quiet, restless night, had worn away the person she used to be. She couldn’t even remember what it felt like to be carefree or loved.

“I was so… lost,” Vi mutters quietly, her voice rough from the weight of years. “I spent so long… thinking about all of you, of Powder… of the mistakes I made. If i had just… If I hadn’t stepped away for one moment, maybe I would’ve still been here… Here with Powder…. Here with you.”

You glance at her then, just a flicker of movement, your eyes soft with something like pity—but more than that, something else that Vi doesn’t have the courage to name. She knows you see her now, not the image of the girl who left, but the one who came back. The one who is trying—trying, at least—not to destroy everything around her with the weight of her mistakes.

Vi’s voice breaks the silence again, this time with something raw in it, something almost painful. She shifts slightly, her hand twitching by her side, wanting to reach out but holding herself back.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you while I was in there,” she says quietly, her eyes searching your face for any sign of recognition. “The thought of you… It helped get through most of my nights. I tried to dream of you... tried to imagine what you were doing, where you were… how you’ve grown... how much prettier you probably got. I kept telling myself, ’Maybe when I get out, maybe when I find a way out, I’ll find you again.’”

She stops, her gaze falling to the ground between you both as if ashamed to even say it aloud, as if admitting the depth of her thoughts all these years will somehow make them real. But it’s there, the longing she’s buried in the back of her mind, too painful to confront but too strong to ignore.

Vi continues, her voice quieter now, almost a whisper. “I wondered if you thought of me, if you looked for me. If you still cared… if I even mattered to you anymore.”

You stay silent as she speaks, your chest tight with something you can’t explain. The words sting in a way you’re not prepared for, like a wound reopened, and yet there’s something strangely soothing about them, too. The fact that Vi—after everything, after all this time—had thought of you… It almost doesn’t seem real.

But you say nothing, your gaze fixed ahead, unable to meet her eyes. You wonder if it’s better this way. If silence is all you have left to offer her now. Maybe it’s easier to listen than to speak, to keep everything bottled up inside where it won’t spill over and make a mess of things.

Vi takes a deep breath, her eyes shifting between the two of you, silently asking for something, anything that might make her feel less alone in this moment. But you don’t give her the answer she’s hoping for.

For a long while, neither of you speaks. The wind brushes past you, making the leaves rustle in the trees around the hideout. Below is quiet, almost peaceful, and the sound of distant voices and music fades into the background.

Vi watches you carefully, her eyes searching for something in yours, but she doesn’t push. She knows better than that. She knows that the years have changed you, just as much as they’ve changed her. She knows she can’t expect you to just forget everything, to instantly trust her again. But she hopes, more than anything, that there’s still something left between you both, something that could grow again.

“I saw you with her,” you say. “Ekko said her name is Caitlyn.”

Vi’s eyes widen at the mention of Caitlyn, her heart stopping for just a moment. The words seem to hang in the air between you both, heavy and charged. She opens her mouth to respond, but nothing comes out at first, as if the truth of its too much to swallow.

You feel her hesitation, the way she tenses, and it hits you in a way you weren’t prepared for. It feels like a sharp, cold pang in your chest. There’s a rawness in your voice that you didn’t even realize was there.

The way you say it feels like it cuts through the silence between you both. Vi looks at you then, eyes wide, searching, but she doesn’t speak. She knows she owes you an answer, but what answer could she give you? How could she explain everything that’s happened in the time between your separation and now?

After what feels like an eternity, Vi swallows hard, her throat tight. She looks away, her hands fidgeting at her sides.

“It’s not what you think,” she says softly, almost too quietly, the words coming out slow and hesitant. “I… I didn’t want it. She was just… trying to comfort me.”

Vi’s mind drifts back to Caitlyn, and she can’t help but sigh. She thinks Caitlyn’s a good person—for someone from topside. There’s a softness to her, a kindness that reminds Vi of the people she used to know back when things were simpler, when she wasn’t caught between the rubble of the Lanes and the ghosts of her past. But despite Caitlyn’s goodness, Vi knows one thing, something deep in her heart that she can’t escape: no one could ever be you.

No one could replace you. The girl she grew up with, the girl she used to dream about, the girl who haunted her thoughts long after she had fallen asleep. Vi’s chest tightens at the thought. The kiss with Caitlyn, the one you saw—it’s nothing more than a hollow moment, something that never should’ve happened. She wanted it to be you.

Vi shudders slightly. The kiss, the way Caitlyn’s lips felt against hers, it was nothing like the memories of you. Nothing like the way your hand used to fit in hers, how your laugh could fill a room with warmth, how you made her feel like she was worth something. Caitlyn could never make her feel the same way you made me feel, could never replace the way you made her feel alive, like everything in her life had a purpose.

“I couldn’t…” Vi murmurs to herself quietly. “I couldn’t feel that for anyone except you.”

Her hand slowly reaches out, her fingers trembling ever so slightly as they brush against yours. Her touch is gentle, careful, despite the roughness of her calloused palms, worn from years of fighting, of surviving. She holds your hand like she’s afraid you’ll slip away, like if she lets go, you’ll disappear, and she’ll be left with nothing but the echoes of a time she can never get back.

Your eyes instinctively shift to your hands, the same hands you once held as children. You remember how easy it was, how natural it felt when you were younger, sitting side by side in the dirt or on the roof of the Last Drop, fingers intertwined like nothing could ever pull you apart. Back then, it felt like the world was small, and nothing could hurt you as long as you were together.

But now—now, everything has changed.

Her fingers curl around yours, and the warmth of her touch sends a wave of memories flooding back—soft laughter, secret glances, the way her eyes would linger on you when she thought you weren’t looking. You blink, trying to keep the rush of emotions in check, but it’s hard when every inch of you feels like it’s trembling.

Vi’s eyes flicker to the ground below for a moment, her cheeks suddenly flushed, the soft red hue creeping up to her ears. It was that same familiar blush that’d show during the times she’d gift you a tiny present from those adventurous jobs she was in. She’s so close now, you can hear her breath hitch slightly as if she’s gathering the courage to speak words that she’s kept locked away for far too long.

“I’ve always loved you, you know,” she said finally. “I never got the chance to tell you…”

The words tumble from her mouth, quiet and unsteady, but every one of them feels like it’s been etched into her soul for years. She looks up at you, the faint redness still coloring her face as she holds your hand.

“I’d really like to make for the time I lost with you.”

The noise from the jukebox below, faint music playing through the speakers, the distant chatter of the Firelights—it all fades away, drowned out by the thundering silence between you both. You stare at her, your heart racing, a million thoughts running through your mind, but none of them can fully process the weight of what she’s just said. You feel the tears burn at the back of your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall. You just stare at her—really look at her—like you haven’t in years.

Vi’s ears are bright red now, her gaze flicking away nervously. She’s never been good with things like this, always hiding behind her strength, her toughness.

And now, it’s all laid out in front of you.

She’s always loved you.

You swallow hard, your hand squeezing hers as you finally manage to find your voice, even though it feels as if it’s been taken from you for so long. You’re not sure if you want to speak, if you’re ready to speak, but it doesn’t matter.

A single tear slips down your cheek, catching in the moonlight that spills across the roof. You huff, your breath shaky, and quickly turn your head, trying to wipe it away before Vi can see.

But you’re not quick enough.

Vi’s blue eyes are already on you, her gaze soft, understanding, and something deeper, something tender that makes your heart ache even more. She doesn’t say anything at first, just watches you quietly, her thumb gently brushing over your knuckles as she holds your hand tighter.

The silence stretches between the two of you, but it doesn’t feel heavy. It feels like the beginning of something, something you both need but are too afraid to admit.

“You’re such an idiot,” you murmur, your voice unsteady as you try to hide the way your chest tightens.

You shake your head, still unable to fully meet her gaze, the words leaving your mouth before you can stop them. The sting of the tear on your cheek fades as you try to swallow down the lump in your throat, but it’s useless.

Vi’s lips twitch, just a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. She’s always known how to make you smile, even when everything else around you seemed to be falling apart. Now, it’s the same thing. She’s still that person who knows how to make your heart feel lighter, even in times like this.

“I know.”

Her voice is soft, almost teasing, but there’s no mockery in it, only the acceptance of your words—because she’s heard them before. She’s known, deep down, that you always thought she was an idiot, that she was reckless, that she made mistakes.

But none of that mattered.

She’s always loved you. And you’ve always known it, even if you didn’t want to admit it at first.

She scoots closer to you, the space between you shrinking as she leans in, her body warm against yours. You can feel the weight of her presence beside you, the soft strength that always made you feel safe. Her hand tightens around yours, pulling it into her lap, and you let out a shaky breath, closing your eyes as if you can’t bear to look at her yet.

But her touch reminds you of who you were before everything fell apart, before the years, the distance, and the pain.

“I know,” she repeats softly, her smile growing. She brings your hand up to her lips, softly pressing a gentle kiss on your knuckles, the red still staining her ears as she nudges you with her shoulder.

“But I’m your idiot.”

And you want to laugh, want to smile and tease her like you used to, but instead, you just sit there. Just breathe.

Vi is here. She’s real. And she’s never stopped loving you.

And maybe—just maybe—you’re ready to love her back the way she’s always wanted you to.

ty for reading! | masterlist

[gay-dorito-dust]

Can we get a doctor phosphorus X reader where the reader has power similar to Deadpool. Example of unable to die and sometimes has ability to pull things out of thin air for comedic effect

You were a curious case to most, from your inability to die, to your unique ability to seemingly pull things that people needed out of thin air as though by pure coincidence. When asked about how you did what you did, you merely shrugged your shoulders - you sipped a drink you plucked out of thin air through a silly straw- and replied with something that only left the rest of the monsters even more confused;

‘Plot convenience and comedic effect for the audience reading this fanfic that author took far too long to actually get to writing.’

Many left you alone after that, deducing you a tad mentally unstable, all but Dr Phosphorus who also thrived off of the chaos and unpredictable nature that you brought to every situation you found yourself in. He found comradery in you and your ability to piss of basically everyone by getting under their skin, even him at times but he knows when to laugh with you as while everything that came from your mouth might sound insulting, that’s just how you came across and it only takes someone with a likemindedness to understand when you were being genuine or not.

Dr Phosphorus remembered the first time you interacted with one another when you scared him by accident, making him grab your shoulder with his exposed radiated hand, thinking you’ll die a violent death but imagine his surprise when you only shrug his hand off to reveal a healing shoulder where his hand once was. ‘Is it hot in here or is it just you? Oh who am I kidding it is you because of your…yeah.’ You said as you gestured to all of him and while he couldn’t smile since he was a literal skeleton, he couldn’t help but chuckle at your words now that the initial scare was over.

‘Oh you’re the wise ass who thought it’d be funny to scare the irradiated Skelton?’ Dr phosphorus says as he crosses his arms over his chest, tilting his head as he took you in and the burnt cloth at your shoulder from his touch, your skin however -now fully healed at this point- looked untouched as though he wasn’t close enough to even hurt you. ‘Who are you newbie, I would think that I would remember a person like you.’ He adds with an almost flirtatious purr.

You smiled as you offered out your hand. ‘Of course you wouldn’t as I was hauled off here just this morning, but for the sake of keeping this fanfic a reasonable length as to prevent the possibility of stretching the readers attention span too thin, I killed a bunch of bad guys and lost a couple of limbs in the process.’ You said as though it wasn’t as big of a deal as it would be to others, ‘people were screaming, I was screaming. and here I am being called a freak, monster and whatever even by people who should probably look in the mirror before saying shit. It’s like the pot calling the kettle black.’ You finished.

Dr phosphorus looked at you then back down at your hand before looking back at you once more, amused. ‘I’d take your hand sweetheart, but I don’t want to hurt you…again.’

‘Oh then take these gloves.’ You said.

‘What gloves-‘

‘These silly!’ You exclaimed as you shoved a pair of irradiation proof gloves against dr phosphorus’s chest.

‘How did you-‘ dr phosphorus tried to ask, only to then decide that logic wasn’t all that important to you when you seemingly worked outside of logic as a person, logic and sound decisions didn’t exist within you, and it shows in the most subtlest ways that one wouldn’t notice unless they were paying attention as to how you seemingly controlled an unforeseen narrative to your very will.

‘How did I what?’ You asked.

‘Pull shit out of thin air.’ Dr phosphorus replied as he slides the gloves over his hands.

‘Plot convenience and comedic effect for the them.’ You then pointed towards a part of the room, almost as though gesturing to an audience , only for there to be no one there at all but cold walls. You two were the only ones in the room and dr phosphorus thought he was the only mentally unstable one in this facility. ‘Who are we looking at sweets?’ Dr phosphorus says as he tried to see what you were seeing, but all he could see was the cold walls that he was far too familiar with then the outside of the very structure he was trapped within, which sounded sad but to his knowledge no sane mind would blink twice at the mistreatment of a monster.

‘The audience reading this very fan fic.’ You informed him with a smile before seeing that he had put on the gloves and boldly grabbed his hand, making the skeleton jolt as he then relaxed when remembering he did put on the gloves. ‘But never mind them, it’s good to meet you dr phosphorus.’ You add as though knowing his name without him telling you was all apart of your character and dr phosphorus had to say that he was liking you more and more you spoke.

‘I don’t think I disclosed that to you sweetheart, but it’s good to meet you too.’ He chuckled and in that moment he knew that your relationship was going to be unlike any other. And he was right.

There would be times where all of you were gathered in the cafeteria, where one of the monsters nudged past you rather rudely while sneering at you. You were use to this as technically while you had abilities that went beyond human comprehension, you were still the closest thing to being a human in comparison to those who had physical appearance that screamed monster.

‘Watch where you’re going human.’ They’d spit at you venomously.

You only smiled back at them while Dr Phosphorus looked between the two of you from the sidelines along with everyone else. ‘Someone who’s going to get bitchslapped by a fish says what.’

The bat like creature scrunched up their face. ‘What-‘ before they could finish their sentence, they were then smacked across the face with a fish rather violently as they were sent to the floor. They hold a hand to their cheek, clearly unaware of what had just happened along with the rest of the room, before looking at your hand that was once empty now was grasping the tail a dead fish the length of your arm; which explained the disgusting smell that soon hit their senses a second after they realised that they were hit in the face with a dead fish.

‘Where did you get that thing?!’ They’d spit exclaimed but you shrugged.

‘That’s on a need to know basis.’ You replied as you shoved the fish into the hands of a gargoyle like being as you took your place next to dr phosphorus, who had been trying to hold back his laughter but couldn’t when you were close enough if g for him to ask. ‘A fish? That’s what you come up with when insulated?!’ He wheezed. You shrugged ‘thought you would like the image of someone getting slapped with a fish and so I went with it.’ You explained as though it was something that happened on a daily basis for you.

‘Well it was definitely a sight to behold for not just me sweetheart.’ Dr phosphorus tells you as you both carried on with your day, all the while everyone else could only watch as the irradiated skeleton and you continue your conversation before being joined by weasel who had the fish firmly liked in his jaw.

[championofthefade]

Warning!! This post may contain spoilers for those who haven't played Veilguard yet! This turned out a lot longer than I thought, but I'm discussing the theory that Rook is a spirit.

I know that there are issues with the writing and any theory is not created to make those issues get swept under the rug. This theory is meant to be fun, and I would like to talk about it.

I'm thinking about the "Rook is a spirit" theory I saw on twitter/x. This theory often rotates in my head often, and I think that it's so interesting.

Like, listen. I understand that narratively it would be complicated to insert into what we know is Dragon Age Veilguard. Someone brought up the fact that it would be a strange thing because wouldn't Emmrich know that Rook is a spirit the way that he knows Lucanis has Spite?

But the theory that cadhalash paints for us is the fact that Varric was for Rook what the Rook is for the companions.

"Help them with their personal problems and talk to them about their feelings, but never ask Rook how they're doing. Or if they need anything. In codex memos we learn the companions have potlucks and book clubs but Rook is not invited. We learn at the end that Varric wasn't really there... What if Rook wasn't either? There's tons of chat about this idea now with other examples of Rook being compared to a spirit in the game. Very interesting and fun!" -cadhalash

There could be the very huge chance that Emmrich would recognize Rook as a spirit, but what about a spirit made flesh?

Think about Cole's banter with Blackwall, for example:

Blackwall: How does a spirit become flesh anyway?

Cole: I don't know. How does a Warden become Grey?

It may seem like a reach, but to me, it makes sense. Cole chose to become human because that was the shape that would help, which he says in a banter with Varric.

Varric: So, Kid, why human?

Cole: It was the shape that would help.

Varric: Huh. Most people don't pick a shape. I guess I was hoping for something deeper with that question.

Cole: It had to be him. But harmless. The him he wanted that wouldn't hurt.

Varric: Well that's... deeper. I think.

You may be thinking, "Hey, Atlas. That might be a little reaching, don't you think?"

Well, yes. Applauding the people that caught onto Solas in the Dragon Age Fandom years and years ago now because you all were on the nose about him being a worm (spirit). But considering what we know from Dragon Age as a whole, it could be possible that Rook is too a spirit of a different kind.

We know that Emmrich can sense Spite. We know that Emmrich can talk directly to Spite. But what if Rook was more like Cole? Would Emmrich's ability to speak to spirits or sense them so close apply?

I would say, that depends on the type of Spirit that Rook would be, right? This has a lot of wiggle room for what you think your Rook would be as a spirit?

From the Wiki:

Spirits lack imagination and creativity; everything they make is based off something made by mortals. Whether benevolent or malevolent, most spirits cannot help but mine a Fade visitor's mind for their thoughts and memories. They then mimic the pieces of life they see by shaping the Fade into various realms that cater to the unconscious desires of the living, providing experiences to the sleeping that become their "dreams."

And the Spirits listed:

Command, Compassion (Cole), Courage, Curiosity (Manfred), Duty, Faith (Wynne), Honor, Hope, Justice(Anders), Learning, Love, Perseverance, Purpose, Valor, Wisdom (Solas).

(We know from Veilguard that Spite is referred to as a spirit of Determination/ mentioned in a data mine, Passion.)

For the sake of the theory, let's say that Emmrich would get an inkling. A prickling feeling even that he knows that there's a spirit near by and would chalk it up to being Manfred because he would know that, right? But then there's Spite. How big of an energy read does Emmrich get from Lucanis to immediately go, 'Yeah, you've got a tag along and I'm sorry it wasn't a willing possession'.

So, how would it get unnoticed by Emmrich, the resident Fade Expert?

Well... Reading further down said wiki page, we find this:

As Rhys puts it in a dialogue with Cole, "being important makes you real". (Asundered reference, I believe?)

Being important makes you real. Rook becomes the 'leader' when Varric gets hurt at the beginning of the game. For the entirety of the game, as Rook, you have to build a team to fight ancient elvhen gods. Rook has to be what Varric was, pulling people that Solas didn't know into trying to save the world from going to shit.

Rook was given a purpose. To save the world.

Regardless of how Rook is perceived, they are in charge. They are in a position that they didn't want, probably was expecting to go home after dealing with this Dread Wolf that they were recruited to stop, and now... They're given a role that would make them important. And as before being important makes you real.

Could Rook be something akin to Cole rather something like Spite or other spirits that we know in Veilguard?

Here's another thing: Solas.

Yes, we are talking about the egg. I'll try to keep this as coherent as possible. We know that Solas didn't want to come from the Fade to be a human (another discussion for another time). We learn that Solas was a spirit of Wisdom, whose Wisdom was twisted into a weapon and forced to do things that stripped Solas of what he wanted to keep for himself. To remain as Wisdom.

This makes it interesting if we add to the fact that Rook could choose to outsmart Solas. Because at that pivotal moment, Solas was Pride. On his pride, it was always the sword he would fall on.

Say what you will about the trick ending, but this is something that shouldn't be glossed over. Being outsmarted by Rook, Solas says, "I am a fool... Who has met his match."

Met his match. This also might be another case of reaching, but it's interesting phrasing from someone who tells clever half-truths and never quite lies. Being tricked by Rook out of pure wits alone. Something that he thought he succeeded in.

What does this have to do with spirits?

Solas, who was brought out of the Fade to take a body to join the elves in a fight against the Titans. Solas, who crafted the lyrium dagger to sunder the Titans from their dreams in hopes of stopping the war. Solas, who created the blight from the Titans' severed dreams. Solas, who started a rebellion against the ancient elvhen gods who abused their power.

Rook, who was brought onto a job to stop the Dread Wolf. Rook, who disrupted the ritual in hopes of stopping Solas. Rook, who started a double blight from freeing these ancient elvhen gods. Rook, who has to build a team to stop these ancient elven gods.

I would say, in spirit, Rook is a mirror of Solas. I'm not saying Rook is wise like Solas or anything like that. But there is something about Rook being Solas' mirror that could fold into Rook being a Spirit of Reflection.

This is just something that comes to mind. Rooks helps Taash discover their identity, helps Emmrich deal with his fear of mortality, helps Neve protect Dock Town, helps Bellara with Cyrian, helps Harding with the Titans, helps Davrin with the griffons, and helps Lucanis with Spite. (Generalized, all choice dependent.) These are reflections of the companions. These are reflections of the people that Rook had brought together to save the world.

It could easily be written off because we're not entirely sure how many spirits there are, but I digress.

Of course, that too would beg the question of how it would apply to all Rooks from all backgrounds?

Let's take a look at the ones that make me think.

Shadow Dragon Rook

The foundling Rook was adopted into a military family and joined the Shadow Dragons to fight from the shadows for change in Minrathous.

We learn in a dialogue with Tarquin that a Shadow Dragon Rook was found on a battlefield by the Mercar family.

Now with this little bit of dialogue, it makes me (personally) think back to what Solas says about him walking the Fade and seeing ancient battlefields where spirits reenact wars from the other side of the Veil. There could have been spirits that were there during this battle where SD Rook was found. (It also kinda reminds me of Loki being found by Odin and raised in Asgard. Don't come for me, I've only watched the movies.)

For the sake of theory, say that a spirit that would have looked over a SD Rook before they were found by the Mercars. Thinking about it, it reminds me of how Cole (the mage) was watched over by Compassion and then Compassion took a shape that would help.

A spirit (in Spite's case) can be drawn to a person, yes? As Determination, we know that Spite was drawn to Lucanis' determination to live or something of the like. (I will live to spite you, essentially.)

Mourn Watch Rook

Discovered by undead inside a Grand Necropolis tomb as an infant, Rook was raised by Mourn Watch necromancers, eventually joining the order.

Relating back to the Muttering Undead that is in a coffin on the path from Emmrich's recruitment:

Stumbling… The steps. Skeletons saw… Oh no choice. Had to be brave… Had to be brave… Too late to cry… Save the (girl, boy, baby) with the grave.

This is a little more open ended. We know nothing about Ingellvar beyond that. We don't know where they came from, only that they were found inside a tomb. It makes me scratch my head.

We know that it's a custom in Nevarra that a spirit could reanimate a skeleton, essentially, and bring some part of their consciousness from back across the Veil. We see that Manfred, when you choose to bring him back, is brought back from across the Veil and returns with magic.

Sure, it's not the same thing as building a body out of Titan's blood, but the idea that the spirits that became the Evanuris are the best of the physical and the Fade offers up to the idea that they were going to have magic anyway when they crossed the Veil. Only lyrium gave them more power than I think that they knew what to do with.

I make this point from the perspective that Mourn Watchers are typically necromancers. They are almost always close to places where the Veil is thin enough for a spirit to come across and possessing a body in a sense.

When it comes to the Muttering Undead, I don't know who that could have been or what they were doing in the Necropolis. But it's clear that they were determined to save Mourn Watch Rook, and they were the one that put Rook in the tomb.

This one makes me scratch my head because it's so broad and vague. For the theory that Rook is a spirit, this is the origin/background/faction that lends itself to the idea because in Nevarra they revere and respect their dead with the ability to raise the corpses to continue contributing to the Grand Necropolis. But we're talking about a wee baby Rook growing up in the Necropolis. Could it be possible that the saving of Rook is more spirit in a tomb?

The last things I would like to touch on.

Dialogue with Harding (her romance I believe?) :

Harding: I've seen spirits leave the Fade and become real people. (COLE!!!)

Rook: You think I could be a spirit in disguise?

Harding: It isn't malicous. They're just drawn to strong emotion. And then...one day, real people.

Rook: I think I'm really me, and I'm really here.

This is why I mentioned Cole earlier.

And the absence of Rook in the Veilguard mural is brought up in the theory as well. Rook's absence on the mural strikes me as odd. Because yes, the companions would be a main focus in the stories that would follow them. But what about Rook, the person who brought these vastly different people together and saved the world? Not there. Were they ever there?

Much to think about.

[worldofkuro]

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.

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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[weepingchronicles]

Hii!! I am the same annon who requested the yan!Jinx with a darling on hunger strike. I saw that I am allowed to make more requests.

First of all I'd like to say that I LOVED the hc u made!

Second of all, if its not too much trouble, could I pretty please with cherry on top request a yan! Jinx with a fem or afab darling who got her/their period(whatever pronouns you are more comfortable with)(bacically due to stress of the abduction she didnt get her period for a while and now it finally came).

Also, do Arcane ladies even her periods? Like- idk how to explain it but I dont get the vibe they would??? Does it make sense???(as somebody who is on her period, I would be so jealous if they didnt. If they did, then I feel pity bc...where do they get pads in the under ground to begin with??)

Anyways, I am really sorry if this is too long ot counts as spam and if you dont feel comfy about writting about this topic, please ignore it!!

Have a wonderfull day and make sure to drink enough water!

a/n: hello! i am so glad you liked it! ♡ thank you for requesting as well! don't worry, this isn't spam. i am just glad you enjoy my writing. this is also written from my own experience with periods since i am afab. i chose to do afab reader since not only women have periods and i want all to feel represented !! although i can not write for someone else's personal expression for obvious reasons. thank you for all the support!

cw: period, yandere behavior, past abduction/kidnapping, stockholm syndrome(?)

❝yandere!jinx x afab!reader getting their period❞

🚀 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🦈 The thought that you hadn't gotten your period in several months hadn't even occurred to you. The stress and entire adjustment period had kept your mind pretty much occupied. Dealing with Jinx's schizophrenic ass and ideas of escape had filled most of your thoughts. Your last wouldn't have even been your goddamn period!

🚀 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🦈 But here you were, dealing with cramps and feeling groggy as hell. Your depression had already been bad enough after you were kidnapped but now it feels like hell. All you want is to hide in your bed and forget the world. The world? Sure, but you can't forget Jinx.

🚀 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🦈 You knew eventually you had to tell Jinx, she would understand but the idea of discussing your period with your captor.. just feels wrong. Perhaps it was because you didn't want to come to terms that you've been here for nearly a year. The idea of sharing this vulnerable side of yourself felt too awful to bear.

🚀 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🦈 But it was futile.

🚀 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🦈 Soon enough Jinx comes skipping, yapping about something crazy that happened while she was out in the city. Almost bragging that she could freely roam outside but you couldn't.

🚀 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🦈 She almost didn't notice your silent lackluster attitude. To be fair, ever since you've been taken you hardly wanted to talk much and Jinx didn't seem to mind that.

🚀 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🦈 "What's up with you, firecracker? Got your period?" She laughs at her own joke, throwing her head back until she looks back at you, your deadpan face telling her it was indeed your period.

🚀 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🦈 "Oh." Her tone and face immediately softens with sympathy and she sits down beside you, throwing her weapon out of the way.

🚀 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🦈 "Do you, erm, need anything?" It almost feels better seeing that Jinx is as uncomfortable with this situation as you are. Maybe more. She wasn't the most caretaking nurturing type, but when you needed something she was happy to supply.

🚀 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🦈 "Well, my cramps are really awful and I feel exhausted."

🚀 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🦈 She nods, suddenly running circles around her hideout as she gathers supplies for you. She comes back carrying a bunch of blankets and a hot water bottle for your stomach. She dumps it all on the bed.

🚀 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🦈 "Need anything else?" She asks, it amused you to some extent to see her running around, collecting and doing anything for you.

🚀 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🦈 "Some food would be nice," her eyes widen and she darts in the other direction, after awhile coming back with a bowl of soup in her hands. You don't think you've seen her be this gentle before.

🚀 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🦈 After some pampering and warm soup filling your belly you feel a lot better than you were before. Somehow through it all, Jinx manages to curl up beside you, her lithe form strewn over you like a human blanket. It was funny as she snored and her blue hairs hung in front of her face.

🚀 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🦈 Perhaps this wasn't as bad as you thought it'd be.

artist credits: @/iwantmoretime17 on instagram

[yokelish]

About Lucanis and Neve

I need someone to make a valid argument to convince me this relationship isn't' doomed the moment Elgar'nan dies. Especially if Lucanis is the hardened one.

Either way, one of them gets hardened. Neve still retains more leniency when hardened (Rook can pursue her), her complex about attachments to people is made worse. Rook would have to actively dismantle walls to be able to pursue Neve romantically. Neve (hardened or not) sees the Venatori wounds on Lucanis and refuses to poke them. In her own way, it's out of consideration, sympathy. To her, it's kindness. Venatori wounds are painful like bones that never fuse together properly, and she isn't exactly a healer (pun intended). She doesn't like anyone poking into her Venatori wounds either.

Lucanis, while passionate, is just isn't' very good with people or feelings. He isn't good with his own emotions in terms of processing them. He is great at compartmentalizing but that mostly means an emotion is put on a shelf and never touched again. It takes Rook, romantic or platonic, to literally speak into his mind so he has no choice but hear: this is NOT how you deal with complex feelings or trauma. You can't just put it on a shelf and forget about it. You will have to stare down the abyss if you want the abyss to stop haunting you.

Hardened Lucanis is an even bigger can of worms in terms of romantic entanglements. Because via the virtue of Veilguard writing, the man is denied healing. He not only denies Rook a possibility of romance (which isn't the best writing choice, hardened Lucanis romance could have been mindblowing, but I can understand the choice to cut off romance). Lucanis denies himself the possibility of healing. There is a prison inside his mind he could start to dismantle after Inner Demons quest, but hardened Lucanis will fucking ignore the prison's presence and will internalize continue carry it like it's a vital organ and not appendicitis.

And in Neve/Lucanis pairing one of them IS hardened, no matter what. Which is nice! You deserve love and affection even if you've been through shit. But the virtue of Veilguard writing, either Neve or Lucanis gets the short end of the stick in terms of character growth.

So you either have Neve who has drawn the line in the sand, built a wall upon it, and decided that certain depth of a relationship with another person is just a bad idea. It's like underwater pressure: at certain point you just need to stop swimming deeper. She will dedicate to her pursuit of helping dock town, but if LI Rook hasn't carved out a hole in that wall and climbed through-- it is solid. Only people who got on the other side before the wall was finished (Rana, Bellara, Harding) will get to stay behind it.

Hardened Lucanis is...What kind of deep relationship do you expect from a man who actively sees himself as a danger to his romantic partner? That's a man with a broken leg refusing to get a cast. And Neve will not be able to watch this happen. Neve tells Lucanis they are both terrible at letting go and he shouldn't adopt that quality, but Hardened Lucanis not only adopts it, he cranks it up to 11. She will ask him to put on a cast, he will refuse. They'll argue about it. No one will give in, they are both incredibly stubborn. Maybe it happens once, maybe twice or thrice, but Neve will not do this to herself and simply watch a man she cares for, however deeply, sinking into misery. And Hardened Lucanis kinda comes across as miserable, even his speech of reclaiming his life after the war is over is underlined with 'or I'll die trying'.

Both of their romances require Rook to display incredible patience and understanding of the past wounds on either Neve or Lucanis, to encourage either to stop wearing the shackles of past traumas as part of armor. Those are shackles, they do not protect unless you seek protection from a fuller, richer life.

But in Hardened Neve/Lucanis this will not happened because Lucanis, while passionate and kind, just isn't fucking good with such things. He will come across an obstacle in his relationship with Neve and is just about as likely to think it belongs there as he is to make it awkward. It's a talent and a skill that will take years to even begin to master. Hardened Lucanis/Neve is just a bit of a nightmare for my girl, honestly. While they claim to take their romance slow, it will definitely take a few years for those problem spots to star showing. And I hope either Lucanis or Neve get the help they need before their romantic relationship with each other combusts like an ancient elven relic.

On that note, it is ENTIRELY A FUCKING CHOICE that you have the ability to forgive and push a man towards healing, when said man has:

a. Committed genocide via Rite of Tranquillity b. Tried to tear down the Veil twice and all with disastrous outcomes where thousands died c.Once accidentally killed his friend and twice very deliberately d. Betrays both Player Characters even if you are have been nothing but a friend to him e. Used blood magic on your to alter your mind

Butt you cannot push your companion, your friend, person you trust with your fucking life and the fate of the world to, to heal if you do not save his city. Even if the other city might be your home. it's a fucking choice, to be honest. Lucanis could have still hardened and healed and perhaps started to choose himself over other people finally but nooooo.

[hannahbarberra162]

Who do you think is meaner in bed, Marco or Izo? I think lots of people would (ignorantly) assume he'd be a sub because he's feminine only to get a shock when he flips things on them, but while I think he's a good dom I personally don't see him as being a particularly mean one. I think he'd be good at staying calm and collected and making you feel reeaally embarrassed about how easily you lose composure by comparison. Marco has so much responsibility and steam to blow off I can see it. Division commander, head doctor, has to bully the strongest man in the world into taking his meds, he's gotta take the stress out on someone. Heehee idk

It's so funny you asked this - I was already writing another Mean Marco drabble! I completely agree with you. I think Marco is very tightly wound under that calm facade. He's a doctor dealing with 997 idiots (excluding Izou and Deuce), 1 Portgas D. Ace (he's in his own category), and the Captain is a stubborn old man who won't take his pills.

I do think Izou could come off as a little mean but I agree that he mostly keeps his wits about him. I could see Izou drinking tea and watching while you ride the Sybian, noting the different sounds you make and how they differ from other forms of stimulation. Or Izou teasing you endlessly as you're bound to his bedframe spread eagle, never quite touching where you need him to, agreeing with you that yes, it is quite difficult. And no, he's not going to stop until he's done.

But Marco.

Oh, Marco.

NSFW Drabble, Marco x F!Reader , ~1k (oops), mean but consensual Marco

Stress Ball

“Marco, is - oh, I guess you’re in here alone then,” Tate said, poking her head in Marco’s office. The First Division Commander smiled as he picked his head up from some reports, his red glasses resting on the end of his nose.

“Just me yoi,” he confirmed, setting down the quill he’d been using for note taking. 

“OK, no worries. But are you alright? You looked really worked up before," Tate asked, searching Marco’s face for answers.

“Ah, you know how it is. Too many patients, not enough doctors and nurses,” Marco said with an easy smile. Tate nodded and gave a knowing laugh.

“Yeah, trust me I get it. I just think you have it harder than anyone else on board. You’re in charge of our division, you’re responsible for keeping everyone safe, you’re the primary doctor for the crew, you’re basically the First Mate, and you have to give that stubborn old man all his medicine. If I was you I would have cracked a long time ago. Speaking of, I’ve been looking for - oh, nevermind. Hope you find some kind of stress relief - I can cover for you in a bit if you want to go flying?” Tate offered her longtime friend.

“I appreciate it but there’s no need yoi. I’m buried up to my neck in paperwork and besides, I found a way to blow off some steam earlier. I’m feeling pretty good right now,” Marco said, picking up his quill once more. Tate nodded and smiled, already turning to leave the office.

“Sounds great boss…I’ll go look for her in the baths then, she said she was stressed earlier…” Tate said mostly to herself, her voice getting quieter the further down the hall she went from Marco’s office. He smiled to himself then continued to write, turning the pages slowly and straightening them as needed. After about half an hour, he heard some sounds coming from the slim coat closet set in the adjacent wall. Standing up, he stretched his arms over his head, his toned stomach peeking through as his shirt rode up. Striding over to the closet, he opened the door and enjoyed the sight before his eyes.

You were inside, head moving towards the movement of air. You couldn’t see or hear him, the blindfold and headphones he’d put on you didn’t allow for any light or sound. You were shifting around, trying to find a comfortable position but Marco had ensured there wasn’t one. You were sitting on your poor red bottom on the floor of the closet, your wrists bound to your crossed ankles. The two vibrators that Marco had placed in your holes were still going but at a low hum, your slick fluids dripping down your thighs and into a small puddle on the floor. Marco squatted down next to you, causing you to search once again for the source of the movement. 

The large spider gag prevented you from calling out to him but the drool leaking from your mouth joined the rest of the slick mess you’d been making. He noted that your chest and face were still covered in his cum from earlier as he ran his thumb through the fluids. Placing his coated thumb in your open mouth, your tongue roved over the digit and sucked as much as you could. Pleased, Marco removed your headphones, making your head jerk in his direction.

“You’re being too loud yoi. I can hear you moving around all the way from my desk,” Marco cooed into your ear. He palmed your breasts in his hands, rolling your already pert nipples in his fingers. After only a few moments of pinching and teasing you were panting and straining against the bindings he’d lovingly put on your hours before but making as little noise as you could.

“You wouldn’t want anyone to find you like this, would you yoi? You shook your head rapidly while a blush rose in your cheeks.

“Then you need to be quieter, hm? Let’s see if you can be a good little thing for me,” Marco said affectionately, petting your hair. Reaching into his pocket he removed a heavy chain with teeth clamps on either end. Putting his hand on your back for support, he dipped his head low and nipped and kissed your breast, leaving a trail of hickeys until he reached your nipple. Sucking hard, he laved his tongue over the sensitive bud until your chest was heaving. Pulling away his head with an audible pop, he quickly placed the clamp on your nipple. You whined softly as he repeated the process with your other nipple until both were clamped between the teeth of the metal binding.

“Ah ah. Not so loud or I’ll have to leave the door open yoi. You don’t want the rest of the crew to see how needy you are do you? I think another 30 minutes here would help us both, hm? I’m feeling relaxed already and I’m sure you are too,” Marco said with a grin, pulling on the chain gently. You pushed your chest up to alleviate the pain from the clamps but that caused the large plug in your ass to be ground in further. Marco looked you over, putting his index and middle finger into your fist. 

“Once for green, twice for yellow, three times for red,” he said softly, waiting for your response. You gave him two hard squeezes and he kissed your cheek.

“I felt yellow. Again, just to make sure I got the right one. Once for green, twice for yellow, three times for red,” he repeated. Just as before you squeezed his fingers twice, leaving no room for error. 

 “Doing so well, Doveling, just a little more,” he whispered into your ear. He replaced the headphones, kissed the top of your head and shut the door to the closet. Humming happily he sat down at his desk to finish the last of his paperwork. He’d be done soon and he’d make you come around his cock until you cried for him to stop. That would alleviate your stress, he thought with a grin.

[baronessvonglitter]

Sprinkle of Cinnamon ✨

Frankie Morales x f!Reader

Word count: 1.3K

Summary: While getting some holiday baking done, your boyfriend has a big surprise in store for you.

WARNINGS: Absolutely none. Pure fluff and family friendly themes ❤️ Mention of fire (Frankie burns some brownies but he’s a pro and gets the fire put out quickly.

Author's note: This fic is for @frenchiereading who I got in the Secret Santa challenge by @pedrostories. This was such a lovely challenge idea and I had a wonderful time writing this for you, Mel! Wishing you a very happy and peaceful holiday, and I hope you enjoy this little slice of Frankie sweetness 🥰

FRANKIE MORALES MASTERLIST | FULL MASTERLIST

Cinnamon is the last thing you need from the store, and as you wedge yourself in between other shoppers' carts during the last-minute Christmas baking rush to get down the spice aisle, you grab the last plastic bottle of McCormick's and head to the checkout line.

Now that you have your last ingredient a calmness washes over you. All the gifts are wrapped, the house is ready for your Christmas guests tomorrow, the first with your live-in boyfriend Frankie Morales and his young daughter Daniela. Everything is going according to plan. No surprises, just how you like it.

All that's left is the baking, which little Daniela blithely asked to assist you with.

However, when you arrive home, the sight you behold is of Frankie, apron haphazardly strewn about his person, emptying the last contents of the fire extinguisher at the stove. Acrid smoke hangs in the air and a sheepish smile creeps upon his face.

"Hey honey," he says pleasantly, coughing a little from the smoke. "Didn't expect you home so early."

"What happened?" you ask, wide-eyed, assessing the damage, of which there is thankfully little.

His seven year old daughter Daniela speaks up. "Daddy was trying to make brownies!"

"To surprise you," he groans, his secret unraveled by his own flesh and blood. "You have so much baking to do before tomorrow and I just wanted to help you get ahead."

"That's sweet." You wrap your arms around him and give him a soft kiss. "I'm sure they would have been delicious."

"I don't think so," Daniela shakes her head, unsuccessfully evading her dad as he scoops her up into his arms and tickles her.

A shuffling noise is heard upstairs, right above the kitchen in the bedroom you share with Frankie. "Is someone here?"

"No," Frankie says, giving his daughter a look as he holds her in his arms. "I didn't hear anything. Did you hear anything, niñita?"

Daniela hides her face in her dad's shoulder and shakes her head, but a tiny giggle escapes. 

"Still, I should go check." He puts her down and races upstairs.

"Okay.." you side-eye them, a little smile on your lips. "Dani, sweetie, want to help me start with the cupcakes?"

Later that night everything is cleaned, back to its normal settings, and you're mixing a bowl of gingerbread with Daniela's help. She's excited to be involved in the baking process, carefully arranging the decoration icing tubes and separating the sprinkles by type, making the thumbprints in the jam-filled thumbprint cookies, and meticulously adding red and green M&Ms to the cupcakes she helped you frost.

Frankie, who claimed not to find anything suspicious earlier, is upstairs wrapping gifts (so he says), and suddenly emits a loud curse. There's a loud bump. You listen, watching the ceiling above you where the noise comes from. "You okay, babe?" you call out.

"Yeah! I'm good, baby.. don't come up!" he warns you.

"Okay," you stifle a little giggle, exchanging a glance with Daniela, who looks just as amused and shakes her head and keeps at her work, adding snowflake crystals to some freshly baked brownies.

"Ow! Hey, damn it," you hear him grunt, then another sound is heard, something muffled and whiny.

"Frankie?" you call upstairs.

He's silent but you hear some rustling and scratching. "What's going on up there?" you call out again.

"Daniela!" Frankie calls, evidently trying not to sound frazzled. "Can you come up here, niñita? Please?"

She dutifully goes up, abandoning the brownies. 

"What is going on today?" you mutter to yourself, mixing the gingerbread as the oven dings its readiness.

Finally you have time to rest. Daniela's still helping out her dad with the wrapping, even though you'd offered your expert gift-wrapping technique. He didn't want you to see what he'd gotten you.

"I don't need anything for Christmas, just you," you'd told him all holiday season. But Frankie was insistent. He loved giving gifts, even something as small as a small bouquet from the florist or your favorite snack from the corner store where he took your car to fill up the tank.

You hope he'll like the watch you got him. You'd saved up for the expensive one he'd been looking at in the sales catalog for weeks.

"Babe, take a break and come down here for some cocoa!" you call up, putting down a tray of steaming sweet hot chocolate in three mugs, topped with whipped cream, a sprinkle of cinnamon, and some candy canes for stirring.

There's that shuffling sound again, like little taps on the stairs. You hear Frankie's curse and Daniela's high-pitched giggling before a golden retriever puppy comes bounding downstairs, a little Santa hat on its head, pawing at your legs.

"Oh my gosh, who's this little guy?" you bend down to scratch the puppy's ears as Frankie and Dani come downstairs.

"He's your surprise," Frankie says, swiftly picking up the little cutie. There's a red ribbon tied to his tail, with something on the end of it. "What is that?" you ask.

"I did that! I was very careful," Daniela says proudly. And before Frankie can move away with the puppy, you touch the ribbon and find something heavy on the end. Bright and sparkly.

"A ring?" You give Frankie a confused look.

If it's possible for someone to both pale and blush at the same time, Frankie accomplishes it. He unties the ring from the ribbon and slips it off, holding it between two fingers as he gets down on one knee, the puppy tucked safely under his arm.

"Baby.." he starts, and your eyes blur with tears of joy and excitement. Daniela claps her hands happily.

"I had a whole speech planned, but I'm just gonna wing it, and speak from my heart," he says, big brown eyes looking up at your like you're his life raft.

"You're the most beautiful person I've ever met. Not just on the outside, but on the inside. You're caring and smart and funny, you made Dani and I feel like part of a family again.. and you put up with all my bullshit."

Daniela gasps. "Daddy, don't say bad words!"

You laugh with him. "But it's true," he continues. "I don't deserve you, not one bit. But if you marry me I promise I'll show you every day that I can be worthy of you.."

Your heart is racing so quickly you're afraid it'll fly right out of your chest. "Frankie.. of course I'll marry you!"

It takes a moment for him to register your answer, then he's up and hugging you, the puppy wagging its tail and Daniela wrapping her little arms around yours and Frankie's legs.

"It was the hardest thing to keep her quiet," Frankie says, watching Dani play with the puppy, affectionately named Holly in the spirit of Christmas.

"That was all the noise I heard?" you snuggle on his shoulder as the two of you sip your hot chocolate, The Santa Clause playing on TV. 

"I know you don't like surprises, but I wanted this to be memorable for you," he says with an apologetic look. You can't resist him, giving him a soft kiss which he returns with eagerness.

"It was.. I just feel bad I only got you a watch when you got me an entire engagement ring.."

"Baby, it's no big deal- wait, you got me a watch?"

You groan, smacking your forehead. "Yeah. That's meant to be a surprise for you too."

"The one we saw in the mail catalog? The expensive one?" You can't help loving how hopeful he sounds.

"It wasn't that expensive," you smile.

Content as you rest on the sofa, watching Dani play with Holly, life can't possibly get better. The diamond on your finger twinkles in the lights of the Christmas tree, but you're too enamored with the people in the room, the ones who belong in your heart.

dividers by @thecutestgrotto 👑

[chrysanthemumgames]

I have a perhaps personal ask, and at the same time struggling with how to phrase it. I've been looking into making an interactive story myself, however, I... cannot code. For the life of me. I can tell one hell of a story, but coding it beyond my grasp, and the system I currently use, while it ought to be simple enough even someone like me could do so, isn't exactly working for how I want it to. Do you perhaps know anything anywhere that I might start looking for someone who would be willing to work with me? I am so sorry if this is a bothersome ask.

Hi anon!

I'm probably not the best person for advice on this, because I've never been in that situation before. I've put some thoughts under the cut, with the caveat that only a small portion of them actually address the question you've asked, with the majority being related but perhaps not helpful for you, depending.

So, I think where you'd go to find a coding person depends on what language you're using. If it's ChoiceScript, probably the forums. If it's Twine... I honestly don't know. Maybe the subreddit, though you'll want to double-check that such requests are not against the rules there.

I sincerely doubt you'll have an easy time finding someone, though. Most folks who code in the systems used for IF are IF authors who taught themselves the coding techniques in order to tell their own stories, not someone else's.

That said, and this is the part you can ignore, because you know yourself better than I do, but... I'm pretty sure you can learn to code. It's not easy, necessarily, and it doesn't come intuitively to everyone, but there are resources out there to help you. Again, this will depend on what system you're using, but the CS forums are very useful for figuring out CS (as is the wiki, once you know enough to parse it). For Twine, there are loads of archived posts on their forums and on the subreddit for specific questions, but for general ones, the documentation for your preferred program (e.g. SugarCube), the Twine Cookbook, and similar resources will break things down into smaller, more digestible chunks. I personally recommend the Twine Grimoire (volumes 1 and 2), for basic interface aesthetics, once you get to that point.

Here on tumblr, @/nyhelism, @/cerberus-writes, @/manonamora-if, @/idrellegames, and others have all answered questions about Twine coding or even in some cases made templates that take a lot of the work out of it. Most have a masterpost regarding things they've answered about Twine or made for others' use, but be sure to check that they're currently accepting coding questions before sending them any, of course.

Learning to code may be slow and incremental, and lots of people manage better if they start with a small project just to learn how to do the basic things in their language of choice. I'd really recommend figuring out what you need your game to be able to do, and learning those functions one by one—it's less overwhelming than trying to tackle everything at once while also writing a huge project.

If all else fails, my most esoteric suggestion is to familiarize yourself with the basic principles of symbolic logic. I took a class in it as part of my degree, and have since also taught that class, and I think understanding things like the logic of conditionals (if statements) as they're used in coding (rather than natural language) really gave me a leg up in learning to code. Not that I'm an expert, but I know enough to make a basic game, at least.

Most (all?) of these things should be findable with a google search; I know there are at least some Twine tutorials on youtube as well, though I'm unsure of CS or any of the languages I'm less familiar with, like Ink, etc.

I do apologize that the section where I encourage you to do the thing you don't think you can do is longer than the one where I answered your actual question, but that's the part I might actually have something useful to say about. If you're absolutely certain you can't do it, I'm sorry for banging on about it, but if you're not sure or on the fence, maybe give it another go before trying to find another person. I've seen a lot of writers looking for coders in the past, but maybe only once was a coder offering their services to writers (and that was a long time ago).

[haoetoile]

still into you - xu minghao

word count: 839

genre: fluff, VERY fluff

pairing: minghao x gn!reader (with mingyu cameos)

a/n: it's the first post of this account! back in 2021, i had one account to write exclusively about monsta x, but i ended up quitting and came back now. nothing better to start if not with the men that named this account!

contains: basically, it’s an strangers to lovers!au fluff inspired by paramore’s song (i was raised as an emo kid, so as i just had to do this) ‘still into you’ in which you recap all the things you’ve been through with your boyfriend hao! reader is described as very shy

you couldn't count on one hand you many years the two of you had been together, not necessarily in a romantic way. it all started when your mutual friend, mingyu, introduced the two of you at a party, hoping that you, who was always so shy, would be able to make friends other than him

the two of you had a small talk that day, and it was surprisingly pleasant to both, he was very friendly and polite, and also had very interesting topics to talk about. mingyu was very happy to see that the shy y/n he knew was being able to talk to someone else other than him without being able to stutter or look down (also, he saw much potential in both you as a couple, so he wanted to make it work too, but that's a secret for both of you)

weeks later, your art history teacher requested a report on a museum visit, and knowing that, mingyu asked minghao to come with him, knowing you'd probably choose this same museum, and once he saw you getting near the piece they were looking at, he suddenly needed to use the bathroom (actually, that was just a pretext to have you two alone)

you were looking at van gogh's 'starry night', and suddenly, you bumped into someone

"oh god, i'm sorry... i'm so, so sorry" you yelped, finally looking at the person you bumped into

"it's okay, don't worry" he gave you a warm smile, before studying your features for a bit "hey, you're mingyu's friend, right? y/n, is it?"

"a-ah, so you remember me...." you felt quite a warmth in your chest at his words "yes, i am. minghao, right? nice to see you again"

that way, both of you made quite a small talk on how you had being, before turning to the painting again. he loved art, and being able to look at one so valuable near him made it all better

"it's so pretty, right?" i really like the starry night, for me, it has such a deep sense of loneliness" he pondered, studying the painting before continuing "i think it's fascinating how despite his inner turmoils van gogh was able to create such a masterpiece"

"whoa, your analysis is actually very good" you were impressed, before starting to give away yours

that way, you two ended up talking about art for a long time, long enough for him to forget mingyu was even there, and he decided to take you for a coffee, which ended up becoming a regular encounter between the two of you

and after months of going to cafés, art galleries and libraries on dates, you started to feel different. suddenly, he was all you could think about, on a way butterflies would fly all across your stomach, and your face would blush

you waited for 6 months to confess to him, but in the end, it was all needless, as he was the one who confessed first and asked you on a relationship. of course, he took his time with you and your feelings, not wanting to rush anything between the two of you or to get you overwhelmed

the relationship started slow, with dates on the most romantic spots he was able to find. after a year of relationship, he was mostly certain he'd like to have you close to him forever, and that's when he decided you two should meet each other's families. and after 6 years of being together, he decided you two should move in together, certain he'd ask your hand in marriage soon

and during an amusement park day, as soon as you turned your back to him, he ended up making the big proposal, leading to your current situation of being engaged to him

and gosh, you still feel the same butterflies on the stomach you felt when you first fell in love with him. you simply couldn't help but be in love with the most gentle, romantic, kind and loving man you've ever seen, the man who'd have late night tea parties with you, take you out on the most creative dates, who'd hold you to sleep every single day, and who'd move the world if you asked him to

all that mattered to you was the fact you had each other to rely on and love unconditionally, you were each other's home and both of you were grateful for that, even someone watching from afar could say you were head over heels to each other. he was like the summer love you'd see at movies, the intense, beautiful loves, except the fact he was not a seasonal lover, but the man you'd love forever and no one would ever change that

i mean, minghao's your entire world, the men you want to start a family with, your safe place, your everything. god, you couldn't help but be excited to the big day of marriage come soon, and you also couldn't help but still be into him after all that

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Hello! May I just start by saying that your blog is one of the most helpful resources I've ever come across! The physiology of love has been particularly helpful for writing a very logically driven character who would absolutely go on a tangent about that kind of thing!

Now, I've encountered a recent roadblock in writing the relationship between that character and a very esoteric driven character (if you can't prove it with logic, they believe in it). The two are in a romantic relationship and get along very well, they respect and even make time to go to events regarding each other's interests/beliefs.

The problem is, they bond by debating. Like, they debate about the possibilities of the supernatural existing, do ghosts exist, etc. They don't argue, that's the key here. I... don't get it. To me, debating is arguing. If I believe something very strongly that I can back up with facts, I can get riled up in seconds if someone even jokingly goes against me.

Could you help me understand debating? Or even why some people do it to bond? It's my biggest struggle with writing these two characters and every time I try to research myself I just keep getting "benefits of debating" articles.

Hi! The first thing that came to mind after reading this was studies on sensation seeking.

Sensation seeking - the tendency to search out and engage in thrilling activities as a method of increasing stimulation and arousal.

Perhaps your characters experience debating as a thrilling activity.

Zuckerman's Sensation-Seeking Scale (SSS)

A questionnaire designed to measure the extent to which a person needs novel or exciting experiences and enjoys the thrills and excitement associated with them.

Contains 4 subscales, each containing items and phrases as a forced-choice between two distinct options:

First is thrill and adventure seeking, with items such as “I would like to try parachute jumping” versus “I would never want to try jumping out of a plane, with or without a parachute.” These items ask about desire for outdoor sports or activities involving elements of risk, such as flying and scuba diving.

The other scales are experience seeking (e.g., “I am not interested in experience for its own sake” versus “I like to have new and exciting experiences and sensations even if they are a little frightening, unconventional, or illegal”) These items refer to the seeking of new sensory or mental experiences through unconventional or nonconforming lifestyle choices;

disinhibition (e.g., “I like wild, uninhibited parties” versus “I prefer quiet parties with good conversation”). These items indicate a preference for getting “out of control” or an interest in wild parties, gambling, and sexual variety;

boredom susceptibility (e.g., “I get bored seeing the same old faces” versus “I like the comfortable familiarity of everyday friends”) reflected in items that refer to a dislike for repetition, routine work, monotony, predictable and dull people, and a restlessness when things become unchanging.

If we look at each subscale, perhaps your characters are high in "experience seeking" and "boredom susceptibility" and this might be reflected in their love of debating. As a whole, perhaps they both have what is called an HSS personality.

High Sensation-Seeking Personality

If you have this type of personality, it means you prefer to live your life with boundless energy and enthusiasm. You constantly seek out new experiences that will delight, surprise, stimulate and invigorate you – and you may indulge to excess.

Typical Characteristics of High Sensation-Seekers (HSS):

A continuous need for novel and diverse experiences that stimulate them*

A low boredom threshold*

Dislike of routines*

Doesn't respond well to authority or rules and regulations

May not be able to resist impulsive urges

A tendency to make unusual choices that may frighten those around them

HSS personalities often:

Are drawn to high-risk hobbies and sports

Build relationships that contain chaotic elements*

Like music, art and cinema that is daring and stimulating*

Challenge people by provoking raw and intense emotions*

Are fast and sometimes reckless drivers, which may be reflected in their history of accidents or speeding tickets

Become restless or depressed and even more desperate for exciting experiences if sensation is denied*

*Perhaps these characteristics and behaviours apply to your characters.

And we can always use The Five-Factor Model of Personality to help us understand certain traits and behaviours.

Using this model, we could say that your characters likely have high levels of openness and extroversion, and may not be as agreeable, to explain their love of debating.

(Of course, in reality, psychological tests and qualified assessors are needed to make these conclusions using these models, but I think that they can also be used by writers as guides for character building and development.)

Sources: 1 2 3 4 ⚜ More: Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

Thanks so much for your kind words! Really happy to hear the Physiology of Love post was helpful for you. Hope this one would be too :)

[poppadom0912]

🍰 with Conner Rhodes. Prompts ‘this isn’t up for debate’ and/or ‘are you hurt’? Congrats on 1k!!!

A/N: Thank you so much for ordering! I've been in a bit of a slump recently and I wasn't motivated to write anything till you sent this so another thank you. Please enjoy!!

🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰

"Are you hurt?"

You whipped your head to the door, immediately regretting it as the pain pulsated, head continuously throbbing and eye twitching. You took so long to recollect yourself that you missed the concern wash over your husband who instantly rushed over to you, bag discarded and coat still on.

"What the hell happened?" His voice was ever so soft, drowning in concern, his gentle fingers cradling your face, both hands providing warmth the snow outside couldn't.

"Just a small accident at work." You said under your breath, voice hoarse from all the shouting. "It looks worse than it feels, trust me."

"You look like you've been in a car accident, this isn't small at all- your hands are bleeding!"

Sighing, you were already internally preparing to give up. You were so tired after a long day at work that you didn't have it in you to be your usual stubborn self who would fight so everything would go your way.

"We're going to med." Connor said with that no-nonsense tone to express his seriousness, knowing that you were going to fight back.

Which is exactly what you did.

"Con please, a few bandages, a shower and painkillers and I'll be perfectly fine." You argued back, already moving to stand up, trying your best not to wince at the burning in your legs.

"Oh my- you can't get even up you're in so much pain." Connor said under his breath, his hands feather light as he supported you in getting up. "What even happened?"

Yeah, there was no way in hell you were telling him what happened, he'd carry you out the house to the hospital no questions asked.

He clearly didn't appreciate the silence.

"Baby please." He stopped you from walking away, his big eyes boring into yours with desperation that only made you hurt more. "Just let me help you."

Sighing, you begrudgingly told him, unable to not fold when he looked at you like that.

"We were chasing someone on the run and we didn't realise there was two of them... so I might've gotten hit by a car."

Silence

"I'm sorry." Connor laughed incredulously, shaking his head in disbelief before asking, "Say that again for me because there's no way I just heard you say you got hit by a car."

You sucked air through your teeth, remaining silent, watching as reality set in.

Nodding his head, Connor looked on the edge of hysteria.

"We're going to med." He stated, picking up your phone and going to get your jacket. "Right now, let's go."

"Con babe-"

"This isn't up for debate." He finalised, resting your coat on your shoulders.

"It's okay to ask for help, that's why I'm here - it's why you married a surgeon." A soft smile made its why to his face. "Let me do my job and look after my wife, okay?"

"Okay."

"Good." He said before sweeping you off your feet so smoothly that you felt no pain even after the sudden movement.

Squealing, you tried to keep down the laughter as not to be in more pain, you hands tightening around Connor's neck as he started walking.

"My gorgeous stubborn wife, oh what ever will I do with you." He said wistfully, making sure the door was locked behind him before looking down at you so fondly that it was hard to believe that his wife just got hit by a car.

"Ah, you'll just have to pamper her and be at her beck and call for the rest of eternity - that's the least you could do." You played along, your smile brightening as the pain dimmed a little.

"Oh no! I'm forever doomed, someone needs to save me."

Giggling, you found yourself relaxing, almost going limp in his arms.

"I'm joking, the only person who needs saving is Ruzek for not calling me the second you got hurt."

Shit. Adam was screwed and there was no one able to save him.

[fierceawakening]

Eh?

I dunno, I’d rather we have prisons and admit that even the kindest of us gets mean when its an Epstein or a Diddy and then talk about the more interesting and pressing question of whether and when to punish less horrible people than go around in endless circles about whether it’s okay or not to admit we don’t fucking know what else to do with someone like Diddy than lock them away from potential victims.

To me it’s like how people who admit “I try to be a good person but when someone does X I can’t forgive” seem more trustworthy than “I would never judge anyone” types. Because the former have spent some time noticing and admitting to their flaws and their own capacity for badness, where the people who tend to see themselves as heroes are less likely to be able to go “hey, I’m not objective here. I doubt you are either, given the topic. It’s understandable, but let’s look for ways to work around it.”

Part of the reason I study crimes I can’t condone as an off again on again special interest is precisely because I need to inform my opinions as best I can, and in order to have opinions of how we should handle those crimes I need to study them to whatever degree I’m capable.

(This is why i periodically read up on the “scary” PDs too. When someone claims I’ve got my facts all wrong, that means I need to look and see if the consensus has actually changed or not. Typically, I find it has not.)

Which is why it baffles me so much when a prison abolitionist answers “what about rapists?” with “why ask that?”

If you’re making it your business to truly argue for revamping the way we handle all crime how do you NOT study what makes rapists, stalkers, and abusers tick? If you don’t do that you can’t be anything NEAR an expert in anything you’re talking about!

Like can you even get as far as writing up a good one pager to give to your legislators if you know that little? I’m dying squirtle

Well, yes, but I can list alternatives to kings. Alternatives to cops I’m less sure about. What does “I’m at immediate risk of violence and need imminent assistance” look like with the alternative?

[dykedvonte]

I keep seeing fanarts of ppl's OC's being on the ship, so do you think that if there was 6st crewmember (specifically, another woman) Anya would've been more safe? Like, someone to actually call Jimmy's begaviour out, someone Anya might wanna trust? Is there a possibility something might have changed (even if a little) or it would not have mattered at all?

-💀

I feel like the game would make it part of the commentary on where she would believe and help Anya but still be sort of dismissive? Like the whole “don’t waste time crying and being scared keep going and move on, don’t let him win”. It’s supposed to be positive and reinforcing but sometimes it does more damage in those times of mourning and grief, it feels patronizing, like you don’t understand what you’re going through but they do. Even if they did call out his behavior it’s still on Curly to act and while another voice would help, it’s still 4 against 2 on guys that don’t get it until they have to vs women who always have to.

I don’t mind mouthwashing OCs but I do get a bit bored as they tend to be borderline saviors or like Jimmy aligned. They are either more complicit than Curly or just Jimmy haters for no reason, outside of what the creators know about what he did to Anya. I am never irked by OCs but in a story like mouthwashing you really need to think about what your character adds to the commentary, especially if they are there during the crash. It’s nice to have like characters on Anya’s side more whole heartedly and interesting to see characters who placate Jimmy but sometimes it’s one note.

I can’t and don’t want to police peoples OCs it’s never my intention when I comment on trends I notice, but I do feel like the way people make their OCs interact with these two characters and especially Curly, really show a grave misunderstanding of the narrative and these characters as people vs roles in the story. Still, I know people just make up characters for fun and that’s fine. Great even, but I guys I’m focusing more on OCs that are supposed to have those serious dynamics. My favs tend to be pretty-Tulpar or post-Tulpar au OCs.

The inevitably of the crash is on Jimmy. He did that not because he wasn’t stopped but because all his means to kill Anya were taken. The gun, the axe. Even if Curly did strip him of his co-pilot privileges and try to keep him contained there’s only so many people. An extra body helps but they have jobs they have to do, he’s the only one steering the whole ship and Jimmy would likely have an out: food, bathroom, etc. He’s not new and if he couldn’t crash the ship directly, who’s to say he wouldn’t sabotage something else? A clunker like the Tulpar wouldn’t take much. An extra person helps but it’s just another thing that prolongs what a person like Jimmy is willing to do to shirk responsibility.

It’s more than just needing someone to stand up to him and think that’s what is missing when it comes to inserting a character into the mouthwashing setting.