𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞.

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"How about this one?" the brunette held up a brown fur coat, your lip being bitten down on. It looked very cozy, the fur evidently appeared soft. But you couldn't afford it and you knew it. Alastor had been helping you with the kinks of your house; fixing up lighting and painting the walls and whatnot, which you were very grateful for, yet you just had no idea how you were ever going to pay him back.

You still hadn't found yourself a job and Alastor had been gifting you a small wage for keeping his house tidy while he went on air. Though you had mostly only been doing that to be a good guest, he told you it was the least he could do to repay your kindness. You were very thankful, nonetheless. In fact, you thought a friendship might be forming as a result.

"It's very pretty, but my wallet says otherwise." You laughed, reaching to take the coat from Alastor so you could put it back where he had found it. But the man pulled it out of your reach, "Dear, you know that I'm paying. We need to get you some new clothes," he scolded you for the millionth time, making you roll your eyes — also for the millionth time.

"I don't want you to pay for me, Al," you grumbled and folded your arms over your chest. "You've-"
"'Been far too kind to me' yada, yada, yada," the radio host mimicked you, tossing his head back and forth with each "yada".

"Don't feel guilty about a gift," he said and pulled another coat you had said you fancied off the rack, folding it over his arm. This one was red. He then wandered to the women's section and picked out the skirts and dresses that the both of you had looked at. You winced at his actions; he was going to go bankrupt.

Not allowing you to get another word of complaint out, the man strolled up to the cashier so she could ring the articles of clothing. Alastor paid the two hundred ninety-eight dollars (given how expensive both the coats were) and then proceeded to carefully set your new clothes into a bag. "There you go, sweetheart. These should last you a while-"
"Three hundred dollars!? Are you insane!?" you cried out, leaving the store with Alastor by your side.

The man shrugged and handed you one of your two new coats, allowing you to get in something a bit warmer on the snowy streets. Footprints had been dimpled in the white blanket from people hurrying to their various jobs, your steps quick to follow the man as he led you to a small café.

"And now for lunch," he announced in that bright tone of his, holding the glass door open for you. You shot him a glare; he didn't seem to mind. "You're not paying," you hissed to the man. This was beginning to be too much — how could he possibly afford all of this? Sure, he was a popular radio host... Hell, the most popular radio host in all of New Orleans, possibly Louisiana. But eventually he'd have to stop spoiling you before you made him.

"Of course I am! I said we would go out and purchase some stuff in town, and we're doing just that!"
"No!" You retaliated, following him further into the warm establishment. "You're purchasing stuff! Not me!" Alastor waved his hand dismissively at you. "Oh, tomayto tomahto." Grumbling curses under your breath, you slipped the coat off your body. "Ah, ah! Such vile language should not be spoken by the mouth of a lady as beautiful as yourself," he teased, tickling the bottom of your chin with his skinny index finger. "After all, a tainted tongue isn't charming."

Beautiful?

"You're one to talk," you huffed. Both you and Alastor sat down at a table near a window of the café. "So have you always worked from home?" Your chin was held in your hand as the man across from you adjusted his bowtie a little bit. "No, actually. I used to work down at the studio — still do," he smirked, happy with how his bowtie looked. "Really? Then why do you broadcast from home?" you mumbled, absentmindedly glancing out the window. Slowly blinking, he answered, "I normally work from home just because it's easier, but I do have to head back to the studio at least once a month for a broadcast and for my paycheck."

• 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐲'𝐬 𝐓𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐂𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 • Alastor x ReaderWhere stories live. Discover now