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mutifandomkid · 13 days

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»»------► 𝙰 𝙼𝚒𝚜𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚍𝚞𝚌𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝙻𝚘𝚟𝚎 (18+) - 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚂𝚒𝚡

✦ 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝙾𝚗𝚎 ✦ 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚃𝚠𝚘 ✦ 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚃𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚎 ✦ 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝙵𝚘𝚞𝚛 ✦ 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝙵𝚒𝚟𝚎 ✦ 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚂𝚒𝚡 ✦ 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚂𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 ✦ 𝙰𝙾𝟹 ✦

Pairing: 𝙷𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗!𝙰𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛 𝚡 𝙵!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

Summary: 𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚕 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚜𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗. 𝚂𝚘 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚊 𝚛𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚘 𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚖𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚞𝚕𝚐𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚊𝚏𝚏𝚊𝚒𝚛 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚑𝚞𝚜𝚋𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚍𝚞𝚌𝚎𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘.

Word Count: 𝟼.𝟸𝚔

Warnings: 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔 𝚘𝚏 𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚒𝚜 𝚎𝚡𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚔 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚜 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚜𝚞𝚒𝚝𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚊𝚐𝚎𝚍 𝟷𝟾+ 𝚊𝚜 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚋𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚐𝚛𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚙𝚑𝚒𝚌 𝚜𝚎𝚡𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝚜𝚌𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚜, 𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚍𝚞𝚕𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚢, 𝚘𝚋𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚜, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚝𝚢𝚙𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚋𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚝. 𝚂𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚏𝚒𝚌 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚍𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜.

𝙼𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚋𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚛𝚊𝚙𝚎, 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚞𝚝, 𝚐𝚊𝚜𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚖𝚙𝚝𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚙𝚞𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗, 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗, 𝚏𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏, 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝, 𝚋𝚒𝚐 𝚌𝚞𝚝𝚎 𝚋𝚒𝚐 𝚜𝚊𝚍, 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜

𝙸'𝚖 𝚗𝚐𝚕, 𝙸 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚑; 𝙸 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚐𝚞𝚢𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢 𝚒𝚝.

𝙸𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚊𝚍𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝, 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚓𝚘𝚒𝚗, 𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚖𝚎!

Blinking rapidly, you squinted your eyes as you attempted to fade away the blurred vision that clouded your line of sight.

What had happened?

Where were you?

Sitting up, you brought a hand to your head as the rush of vertigo filled your senses; your entire body flinching as a distorted deep voice honed into your audible senses. Attempting to focus on the noise, your eyesight slowly began to correct itself, only for a sense of dizziness to overwhelm you as something cold grabbed your shoulder; shaking you ever so slowly as if it was attempting to snap you out of the distortion you were experiencing.

Once your vision ceased the erratic movement of colours, stabling them into a fixation, you could finally make out that you were on the floor; the wood creaking beneath you.

Why were you on the floor?

What on earth had happened to you?

Touching the floorboards, you stabilised yourself as all of your senses finally equilibrated; only for an awfully grating voice to sink deep within your ear canals, making every singularity of hair on your body stand up. “Doll,” The voice sounded unusually panicked. “I’m so sorry; I didn’t mean it, I swear.” The arms that belonged to the person who was weeping next to you wrapped around you; pulling you deep into their hold as the cries of liquidised tears hit against your shoulder.

Turning to face the person who you had yet to make out, your eyes widened in pure disgust as you recognised the person as your husband. Your nose scrunched up as everything came back to you; the flowers, the screaming, and the main event of you slapping your husband across the face, only for him to hit you so hard you blacked out.

Staring at the devil in disguise that cried over your form whilst embracing you, you began to feel enraged; seething that he thought he had any right to hold you after he had quite literally knocked you out as if you were some ruffian in a fighting ring. Yet you didn’t move, didn’t push him back like you desperately wanted to; only forcing your body limp as he held you, his vile face drenched with ugly tears of falsity.

You couldn’t believe he had actually knocked you out; he had never hit you hard enough to the point of actually enforcing a concussion upon your brain before. Your eyes could only stare at him with zero emotion behind them as he continued to mumble apologies filled with deceit, and as he continued to flood your shoulder with salted tears you couldn’t find yourself feeling any empathy toward him.

He could’ve killed you.

“What time is it?” Despite everything that ran through your head, asking that question was all you could find yourself saying in that moment; all you could find yourself formulating. You needed to know how long you had been out of it, needed to come to terms with the severity of the situation.

Vincent only pulled away from you slightly before sniffling. You could only cringe at how pathetic and apprehensive he appeared as he contemplated telling you. Surely you couldn’t have been out for too long considering the sky was hidden within the confines of darkness, indicating you had possibly been out of it for a couple of hours.

“It’s Sunday.” Was all Vincent said.

Stilling yourself, the muscles in your shoulders tensed as his words registered.

You had been unconscious for two full days.

He had left you on the floor for two whole days.

“Doll, I swear to you, I didn’t mean to do this.” You wanted to ask him what his goal was when he had hit you then; what his goal was when he had smacked the side of your head with such harshness that it was bound to do some sort of damage.

But you said nothing.

You only sat there, taking in the information that you had been comatosed for two entire days; and the monster who enacted that upon you didn’t even give you the courtesy of putting you onto a softer surface, or even taking you to a doctor.

Did he even know if you were dead or alive as he left your body on the floor?

Not a single word left your lips as your eyes fixated on a cracked piece of wood on the floor below you. You could feel your husband tighten his grip on you. “Do you forgive me?” He whispered into your shoulder.

Your shoulders began twitching as laughter slowly left your mouth as he asked for forgiveness. Your voice gradually reaching a maniacal screech as you giggled; tears streaming down your face from the sheer atrocity of the man beside you. He had beaten you for an entire year, raped you, desecrated your body in ways no person should be treated, and you always took it like a rag doll.

You were just his punching bag.

That’s all you were.

Gripping your hands into your hair, you couldn’t stop the fit of laughter that left your lips; as if your emotions, everything you had bottled up from the abuse you had endured split like a knocked over glass, flowing out of every pore of your body. Tugging on your hair, you began to pull; hard.

Everything hurt.

Gritting your teeth with a screech, your husband grabbed your wrists and pulled your hands away from your hair with the same force he would use to push you around. His expression was horror-stricken; as if he had just witnessed some mentally unstable patient stain the walls with their own blood.

You found it incredibly ironic how he looked at you like you were the crazy one.

But as you looked into his eyes, the laughter halted in the depths of your throat, and your face contorted into a deadpanned structure.

No. You didn’t forgive him; you wouldn’t brush this off like you had brushed off everything else he had ever done to you.

But he didn’t need to be aware of that.

“I forgive you.” You reluctantly said, your words laced with deceit. Despite wanting to spit in his disgusting face, that you would never forgive him, never love him, and always hate him, you couldn’t tell him how you truly felt; you didn’t want to experience being put in another two day sleep.

His face only softened as he forced you into a hug you didn’t reciprocate; even if you wanted to, which you never would, you had no energy. You felt tired, and you craved to be away from the vile man who held you. You could only beg in your mind like a mantra for him to let go of you; it began to feel like he was holding you for much longer than he realistically did.

Like a blessing from the heavens, Vincent let go of you before he announced he was going to retire for the night, and as he attempted to pull you up from the floor to drag you into the bed the two of you shared, you refused to let your body stand up.

“I just want to stay down here for a bit.” You whispered in a plea. It was the least he could do for you after everything; give you peace from his presence.

Although you could sense that Vincent wanted to force you into bed, he finally graced you with a tiny amount of mercy as he let go of your wrist, turning away to walk up the stairs; each step creaking louder than you remember them ever doing.

As you heard the bedroom door shut close, you finally laid back onto the floor as you stared into the ceiling. Everything was too overwhelming. The tears that left your oculus organs felt strange against the now empty feeling in your chest, it was as if all your emotions had finally locked themselves away in an attempt to save yourself from the insanity of having to experience everything that was currently tormenting your psyche.

Closing your eyes, all you could see were a fluctuation of distorted colours against the black background; a sign you were still suffering from the damage that was inflicted onto your head from two days prior.

For some reason, you couldn’t believe Vincent had just left you on the floor for such a timeframe. You knew how vile he was, but despite his despicable nature, you couldn’t come to terms with the fact that he just left your body to fight for its life as he forced unconsciousness onto you.

You needed to stop having faith that people couldn’t get worse.

What would happen next time he reached the same amount of fury he attained when he knocked you out? Would your body be ready for it?

Or would you die?

It took hours for you to calm your psyche down; yet you were still on edge, still jumpy, and you feared that if any small inconvenience were to transpire, you would only break down once again.

So you decided to distract yourself.

Looking at the clock that hung on the wall, the arms ticked in seconds as it read that it was the witching hour, indicating that Sunday had now passed, and you were in the early hours of Monday. Picking yourself up, you walked into the parlour room, only to grab the newspaper Vincent had carelessly left out. Gazing over the cover, you could only scoff as the date of the newspaper aligned with the date from yesterday; meaning your husband had left you in the house alone as you remained unconscious.

Prick.

You couldn’t find yourself surprised; not after everything that transpired.

Focusing your attention on the main headline of the newspaper, you read the words that exclaimed a new murder victim had been discovered; providing a black and white picture of the poor victim who had succumbed to the serial killer roaming the streets of New Orleans. Looking at the image, it presented a young man who looked oddly familiar, and without feeling anything towards it, you realised it was a depiction of the man who had harassed you before Alastor had jumped in to help you.

Surprisingly, it didn’t phase you; in fact, you could only smile as you bid him good riddance. He was a nuisance, and he was likely to harass another woman just as he did you.

As you began to read over the gruesome details of the killing, the paper explained how the man had been bludgeoned to death in a backstreet alley; suspected to be inflicted by hatchet due to the types of wounds carved into his skull. You could only imagine how bloody the scene must’ve been; imagining if his brain had splattered against the concrete as his skull caved in.

Continuing to read, you raised your eyebrows as the paper stated that one of his legs had been amputated and his entrails had been forcefully removed from his stomach; as if the killer had ripped through his skin with his bare hand.

You couldn’t help but shiver as you read the gruesome details; it made you feel slightly sick, yet your heart raced as if it was excited.

Deciding that you had read enough of the recent murder, you turned the page of the newspaper, reading over the much more positive story that had been printed into the pages.

As you read, you hadn’t realised you had fallen asleep until a door from upstairs shut with a loud bang; jumping you into consciousness. Rushing to place the newspaper back where you found it, you jumped back onto the sofa before Vincent made his way down the stairs.

He could only look at you with downcast eyes as he dragged himself over to you. You wanted to roll your eyes; wanted to snarl at him and tell him to fuck off as he made his way towards you.

But you didn’t make a sound. Didn’t move a muscle.

As he sat down beside you, you gripped your clothes that you were still wearing from the day you last saw Alastor. You probably smelt bad. Vincent’s hand gripped your shoulder as he forced you to lean against him; your body stiffening as you involuntarily touched him. “I’ve been thinking about everything whilst you were out of it.”

Your upper lip naturally twitched. Is that what he thought of it? That you were just ‘out of it’? He was good at manipulating the script; so good that you wondered if he manipulated himself into believing he had done nothing wrong.

“And I think we need a fresh start; New York, to be precise.”

What?

“Ever since that bastard of a radio host came over, you’ve been acting out, doll.”

You had been acting out?

Did he not have any self awareness? How dare he suggest you were the one acting out when he was the one who assaulted your body on a near daily basis.

“I’m going to go to New York next week to see where I can establish a new business, so by the end of next month, we should be in the big apple; how does that sound, doll?”

Awful. It sounded awful. You didn’t want to leave here; you wanted to stay here.

Here with Alastor.

Why were you thinking of Alastor?

Refusing to look at him, or even honouring him with a response, he took a deep sigh before speaking again. “I’m sorry for what happened; but don’t you see that none of this would’ve happened if Alastor wasn’t in the picture, doll? Can’t you see that?”

You wanted to scoff. None of it would've happened if he had never bought you in the first place; none of it would’ve happened if he wasn’t such a vile and abusive man who saw it fit to beat his wife into submission.

None of it would’ve happened if Vincent was dead.

“You can stay quiet if you wish; but I’m not giving you a choice on the matter.”

Did he think he ever graced you the right of choice prior to this?

Surprisingly from your lack of response, your husband only stood up before walking out the door; most likely to leave for work. Your suspicions were proved correct as you heard his car start up, only to drive away. Glaring at the floor below you, your fingers slowly etched into the skin of your thighs.

He was going to take you away.

He was going to take you from Alastor.

Letting out a scream you ran upstairs to calm yourself down. You needed a distraction. Wanted to get out of this dress; wanted to clean yourself, needed to clean yourself.

Tearing the dress off, you began to run yourself a bath as you gripped the rim, watching as the water slowly filled the tub before dipping into it.

As the heated water touched your skin, you sighed deeply, finally allowing the muscles in your body to relax. It felt nice after everything that had just happened, and you couldn’t help but melt into the bath. Yet your mind refused to relax like your body did; it was still running at a hundred miles per hour, but only one thought stuck out more than the others:

Vincent was going to take you away from Alastor.

Why did that hurt you so much?

Why did the thought of never seeing that charmingly strange man again pierce your heart?

You knew you adored Alastor as a friend; but you had never experienced what you felt towards him before; it was as if you were overly attached to him. Sinking your lower face into the water, you rationalised in your head that it made sense for you to become fond of him in such a short time; you were a woman who had been isolated for the past year. Naturally, it made sense for you to latch onto the first person who showed you affection.

As Alastor began to swarm your mind, your thoughts lingered towards the desecrated flowers that had been murdered; stomped into a wilt by your husband.

What were you going to tell Alastor what happened to his flowers when he came over?

Gripping the edges of the cast iron bath, you straightened your spine; the water naturally rippled in momentum with your movements as you remembered that Alastor was to come over for lunch today.

Not knowing how long you had been in the bath, you hastened your pace as you finished cleaning your hair and body. Wrapping a robe over your body as your wet form left the body of water, you made your way to the vanity in your room. Yet when you opened the door, you could only roll your eyes as you took in the state that Vincent had left the bed in.

You weren’t in the mood to sort it out.

Not today.

As you sat down at the well detailed vanity, you visibly grimaced as you took in your unhinged expression. Smacking your cheeks, you rubbed them as you forced your facial features to return to normalcy.

You were surprised that there was no damage done to your face.

Groaning, you realised you would need to cover up the bruises that covered your body from the neck down.

You didn’t have the motivation to do this today.

Focusing on readying yourself for Alastor’s arrival, you dried your hair before covering your bruise stained body, physically recoiling as you dabbed make-up over each individual blemish. After being content with the appearance of your skin, you stood, sliding your dressing robe off the skin of your body before picking out a dress to wear; only to wince as you heard a shave and a haircut knock echo throughout your home.

Was Alastor already here?

Pulling a creamed coloured tea party dress out of your wardrobe and onto your body along with T strapped heels, you ambled toward the door as the person knocked once more in the same rhythm from before.

Opening the door, the beating of your heart became irregular as Alastor stood before you, his demeanour was filled with confidence and adoration as he flashed his smiling teeth to you.

Taking a good look at him, you began to flush at his more casual attire; a dress shirt that cuffed up to his elbows, revealing his thin yet toned forearms, matching a waistcoat on top of it along with herringbone pants; although quite a formal outfit for the normal person, for Alastor, it was extremely toned down from his usual attire. Your body couldn’t halt the warmth that spread throughout you just from taking in his appearance.

Was it normal to feel this way towards a friend?

His smile seemed to glow as he spoke no words, only gesturing for you to place your palm into his. Feeling a wave of deja vu flood your innards, you remembered back to when he had kissed your hand when you first met him. Relinquishing your hand to him, he placed a kiss on your knuckles whilst looking into your eyes. Giving him a flushed smile, he only began to place more kisses along your forearm before you pulled away from him with a laugh of his name.

He only smiled further as he watched you laugh, suddenly, he closed the front door with his shoe before leaning towards you. “Oh, how I’ve missed you, darling.” Your heart raced as though it was attempting to leave the confines of your rib cage as Alastor closed the door with such elegance; speaking to you with that tone laced with pure seduction.

“It’s only been a few days since I last saw you.” You chuckled as he kept leaning in towards you. The heat that enveloped your body only formed little drops of sweat on your forehead as Alastor loomed over you, forcing you to crane your neck skyward to witness his oddly attractive sharp facial features.

His face seemed dissociated; something you knew all too well as he gazed into your eyes; his glasses slowly etching toward the tip of his nose before he suddenly smiled, pulling up a paper bag that you hadn’t noticed him holding until he shook it next to your head. “I hope you don’t mind darling, but I brought some ingredients with me so I can finally introduce you to an authentically spiced jambalaya.”

You could only tug the corners of your lips back as you gaped at the fact he had even remembered the conversation where you both agreed for him to make his jambalaya for you; yet your mind seemed to focus on the contemplation on how Vincent would react if he found out you had eaten without him.

You found yourself not really caring for once.

Looking at the bag, and then to Alastors face; you melted as he looked so blissful as gazed into your visual organs. The flustered feeling that swelled within you only grew the longer you looked at him.

Giving him a smile, you clapped your hands together, shocking yourself slightly when the noise of the clap reverberated through your body, forcing your vision to slightly blur.

Blinking your vision back, you took ahold of Alastor’s free hand as you smiled. “You’re too sweet; do you want me to make it?” Alastor only raised an eyebrow at your question before chuckling; bringing your hand closer to him as he spun you around.

As you came out of the spin, your vision distorted; yet you managed to stabilise yourself before Alastor could figure out you were having issues courtesy of your husband's violence. “Don’t be ridiculous darling! I’ll make it for you.” He whispered the last few words, almost ominously before he softly held your shoulder, pushing you into his side as he guided the two of you to your own kitchen.

“At least let me help you then.” You exclaimed, despite feeling a strange sense of warmth as you basked in Alastors presence. Placing the bag on the side before looking at you, Alastor faced you; his expression one of contemplation.

“No, darling. I want to do this for you.” Trying to hide your flustered state at his words, you looked away from him, only to place your hands on your hips before huffing.

“I’m starting to think you forgot my name with how often you call me darling.” You mumbled as you finally entered the kitchen.

Looking back at you, Alastor forced a gasp to escape your lips as he suddenly pressed his large hand around the small of your waist, pulling you flush against him; one of his legs forcing its way in between the gap of your legs, but not quite touching. Your hands gripped the counter behind you as a fire like no other began to burn within your chest.

“What are you doing?” You almost whispered with panic etched within your voice before Alastor forced your back to bend backwards as he leaned further toward you until you could no longer realistically flex any further. All you could see was Alastors face as he placed his forehead against yours.

What on earth was he doing?

And why was it making your heart race?

Panicked, you could feel yourself becoming flustered at the entire situation, craving for more; of what, you didn’t entirely know. But as he stared at you with such a predatory gaze, your breaths became heavy; his expression indicated he was ready to devour you in ways you weren’t ready to acknowledge.

“I could never forget your name,” He paused before moving his lips next to your ear only to whisper your name with debauchery. You could only sigh and scrunch your eyes shut as you could feel yourself getting worked up from the whole ordeal; he was bringing reactions out of you that Vincent could never attain; and Alastor had hardly done anything to you yet.

Why were you allowing him to do this?

Why did you like it?

Before you could tell him to back away so you didn’t have to acknowledge the sensations you were currently experiencing, Alastor smirked at you with a chuckle as if the whole thing was merely to tease you; backing away ever so slowly before he began to unload the paper bag as if what just transpired didn’t affect him one bit.

As you watched him busy himself with the products he had brought over, you couldn’t help the pang in your chest as you believed the whole ordeal had meant nothing to Alastor.

Pushing yourself away from the counter, you attempted to distract yourself from the thoughts that forced pain upon the very surface of your soul, but your stomach managed to complete that task for you as it panged in pain.

You had forgotten you hadn’t eaten in a few days now.

Walking over to the cabinets, you gathered all the utensils you would need to assist Alastor in cooking; you wanted to help, and although you wanted to adhere to Alastors wish of allowing him to cook for you, you knew the process would be quicker if you helped, regardless of what Alastor had to say about it.

Washing your hands, you quickly stole a green pepper from him, causing him to side eye you before you picked up a knife, fully intending to assist him, but as Alastor attempted to take the culinary vegetable back from you, insisting that you needn’t do a thing, you pointed the sharp edge of the knife towards him. “I’m helping you whether you like it or not, Mr. Hartfelt. So start prepping something else whilst I cut up the vegetables.”

You watched as his face seemed to fluster along with a twitch of his signature stretched smile as he looked down at you pointing a knife directly into the direction of his neck. As you witnessed his adams apple gulp deep into the depths of his throat, he spoke up. “Alright darling, you may assist me, but do stop referring to me by my last name.” His voice edged on almost unhinged; completely contrasting to what you were used to hearing when he spoke.

Why did that specific tone in his voice shoot pleasant sensations through your nervous system?

Only giving him a nod, you focused on cutting the vegetables, only glancing toward Alastor for a slight moment, but focused on him as you watched him take out a slab of meat after washing his own hands.

It wasn’t a meat you could recognise.

“What’s that?” You questioned as you tilted your head.

Alastor turned to face you, his hand holding the chunk of meat, squeezing his fingers into the fatty piece of the butchered corpse, his eyes swirling with contemplation before his lips moved.

“Pork.”

For some reason, you didn’t fully believe him as he gave you his one-worded answer, but you ignored the voice deep within your mind that kept ringing alarm bells, opting for humming in acknowledgment instead.

Slowly, the two of you fell into a domesticated bliss, and Alastor became more animated as you both cooked together, cherishing each touch he placed onto you as he passed by you and each word he spoke to you as you both shared things about yourselves to one another.

It felt like you were Alastors wife; and not Vincents.

As Alastor poured the washed rice into the boiling pot, the two of you made your way into the parlour room as you had some time until the food approached the end of its finalisation.

“Would you care to dance, darling?” Alastor suddenly asked you. Looking toward him, you watched as he fiddled with the gramophone that stayed stationary on your side table; and without your response, a slow song began to fill the room; surprisingly it didn’t cause your vision to blur.

“I haven’t heard this song for quite a time now.” You smiled as you reminisced, allowing the song to fill your mind with memories of a time from your childhood. It had been a while since you had danced too; something you loved to participate in, but your parents slowly managed to make it an activity you began to hate, and the addition of Vincent only forced you to become fully celibate to the form of dance. “It’s been a while since I’ve danced.” You admitted.

Taking your hand, Alastor pulled you against his chest, only to open his closed lipped smile. “Then you can follow my lead, ma cherie.” Without a word, he threaded his fingers through your hand as his other laid on the dip of your spine, pushing your body into his before he swayed you along with the soft music that filled the room.

Your heart settled into bliss as you allowed yourself to follow Alastor's small movements as he held you; leaning your head into his chest as you listened to the beating of his heart. You could only sigh in pure content as you naturally flowed along with his movements, the dance between the two of you bloomed your heart like a flower basking in the warmth of the sun.

“Did you have a good weekend darling?” Alastor whispered into your hair after inhaling deeply.

“No.” You spoke before your mind could think of a more appropriate answer to give him; the dance making you more receptive to telling Alastor your true feelings. “I had missed you, too.” You whispered before hiding your face further into his chest.

It was true; despite everything, you had missed him. Even though you weren’t conscious during the days that made up the weekend, Alastor was pretty much what consumed most of your thoughts during your awakening.

You had missed him.

But why did you miss him?

Tilting your head so you could look at him, you took in his love-drunk expression, took in the way his eyes glassed with adoration; bordering on what you believed to be obsession. And as he seemed to wait for you to do something, he stilled all movements.

In that moment, as your heart beat rapidly as Alastor held you, your mind seemed to click in realisation.

You harboured romantic feelings for Alastor.

Yet for some reason, that realisation felt like a knife to the heart.

You were married; to a monster nonetheless.

How had you allowed yourself to feel for someone you hardly knew?

Alastor wouldn’t want a defiled woman like you anyway.

Tightening your grip on Alastor, your reality seemed to shatter before you, along with the contents of your heart.

Alastor was most likely just being nice to you.

He most likely pitied you.

It was the only thing that made sense in your mind.

Flinching, you pulled yourself away from Alastor. You could feel his grip tighten ever so slightly as he begged for you to not let go of him through his body language; and as his grip tightened, you looked back into his eyes; eyes that seemed desperate for you to stay, eyes that begged for more than just your touch.

Almost, you allowed yourself to relax in his touch as he ever so slightly leaned down towards you, as if asking permission to continue, and as you were so close to allowing him to close the gap to see what he would do, a ringing sound pulled you out of the trance.

As the noise continued, you concluded the timer had gone off, suggesting that the food in the kitchen had finished and was ready to be consumed. Pulled away from the man you had just had a revelation about, you apologised in a whispered tone.

You began to frown as you watched him visibly deflate; his smile tightening in refusal to frown just like yours did as his eyes seemed to beg for you to hold him again. It made you want to cry, seeing him look so broken. Offering your hand out, Alastor could only twitch a more genuine smile on his face as he placed his palm against yours.

Pulling him towards the kitchen as the music from the gramophone still played, you both allowed the strange tension between the two of you to subside as Alastor asked you to sit down whilst he plated the food in two bowls; one for you and one for him.

Placing the bowl in front of you, Alastor sat in the chair closest to you as he placed his jaw into his palm; watching you intently. “Do give your honest opinion.” Was the first thing he spoke since the two of you danced, his voice slightly downcast from his usual upbeat and charming persona.

Looking down at the food, you couldn’t deny that it looked delicious, and as the steam filled your senses, you bit into the food. Alastors smile brightened at you dreamily as he watched you eating the food; waiting for your feedback. You couldn’t help but melt as the tasty flavours sunk into the muscle in your mouth. It was spicy and well flavoured; you didn’t think you had ever eaten, or made something quite as tasty. “It’s so good, Alastor.” You near moaned, missing how Alastor covered his lower face with his large hand as you placed another spoonful in between your lips. “Where did you learn how to make this?”

Clearing his throat, Alastor kept his palm over his face as he watched you eat intently. “My mother taught me, darling; if you’d like, I can give you the recipe.” You nodded with excitement as you chewed your food with your lips closed.

Swallowing your food, you sighed. “Your mother is an amazing chef! I’d die for this recipe so please do!” Picking up a piece of the meat, you chewed on the juicy slab. “You’ve got to tell me who your butcher is too; I’ve never had pork quite like this before, it’s really good.” Alastor’s smile tightened as the words left your mouth.

“I butcher the swines myself, darling; so you’ll have to come to me personally if you require more.” You didn’t catch on to the undertone of his words, only grimacing when you learnt he butchered animals; but you made no comment on it, only nodding as you continued to chew the food, Alastor beginning to eat his own portion after your first few bites.

As you ate, filling your stomach to its content from the lack of food your body hadn’t been nourished with since the incident with Vincent, you heard Alastor ask you a question. “Are you available tomorrow?”

You were surprised he had even asked, but you focused your attention onto him instead of the beautiful food in front of you. “Yes, why?”

“I’d like for you to meet someone.”

Looking straight into his eyes, your oculi widened. Who on earth did he want you to meet? And why? Yet as you asked yourself those questions, the only question you found yourself asking him was on his workload as you contemplated whether or not he was skipping work to spend time with you.

“I only work on Fridays and the weekend darling; so I’m all yours throughout the rest of the week and so forth.” His promise of his spare time being dedicated to you and you alone had your emotions flooding a warmth throughout you for the tenth time today; it seemed.

Acknowledging his question, you agreed; not without asking him who you were going to be meeting, and what you should wear, only for Alastor to answer one of your questions. “Something casual, darling.”

Falling into another conversation, you noticed how the clock ticked closer and closer to the time Vincent usually arrived home.

You didn’t want Alastor to leave; you wished to bask in his warmth again, to restart the day over again, to experience everything over again, even if it meant having to deal with your repulsive husband in the morning, to deal with the pain of realising you liked the radio host more than just platonically, Alastor made it worth it.

“Vincent will be home soon.” You stated. “He won’t… be happy if he sees you here.”

“Darling, you speak as though we’re secret lovers.”

Flushing, you turned your face away from him; a part of you hurt from his words.

Did he believe you two to be friends?

You wanted to ask him what the two of you were; especially with your realisation of your feelings toward him. But you didn’t. You only huffed as you stood up, Alastor following suit, stalking behind you like a dog to its master.

Jumping ever so slightly, you felt butterflies swarm inside your stomach as Alastor wrapped his arms around you as your hand latched onto the front door handle; preventing you from opening the front door. His head rested on top of the crown of your skull before you heard him inhale deeply.

Did he just smell you?

Without reacting, you allowed yourself to disregard his strange sniffing as you leaned back into his chest; his strange actions not really phasing you. “Be ready just before lunch, darling.” He mumbled into your hair before detaching himself from you, pulling you slightly away from the door so he could open it himself.

As you watched him wave, your lips twitched down into a frown as he left your vision.

You were fucked.

𝙸'𝚖 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚐𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚕𝚒𝚎 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚂𝙾 𝚌𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖 𝚔𝚒𝚜𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝙸 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝙸'𝚍 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚊'𝚕𝚕 𝚜𝚞𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚛 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚜 𝙸'𝚖 𝚎𝚟𝚒𝚕 <𝟹

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