• 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐲'𝐬 𝐓𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐂𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 • Alastor x Reader

𝐅𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧.

Your naked bodies were pressed up close to each other, his exposed chest against your back, rising and falling as he breathed calmly. His arms were wrapped protectively around your waist and his leg was over yours, his warm breath occasionally tickling your neck as he kissed the delicate skin. You were tired from the events that had taken place just moments before, a sense of wrongness lingering like fog in your mind. You had enjoyed it though, there was no denying that.

Alastor had offered you the chance to relax for the night after a couple of weeks of stressing about the whole "he's a crazy murderer and he's going to eat me" situation. At first you had been against it, saying that you would be fine, but you kept thinking it over. He hadn't persisted and he didn't force you into it, which was one thing you hadn't expected from him. He's not like my clients, you had to remind yourself, listening as Alastor sighed contently and nuzzled his nose into the crook of your neck. Your heart rate had begun to calm down by then, gaze fixated on the window as flecks of snow blew past the glass.

Christmas had come and gone like nothing. You felt no joy when it happened, remaining in your room almost the whole day. Alastor had tried knocking on your door to give you some food, but you had simply ignored him and sobbed into your pillow. Damien was gone, yes, but it seemed like the man you loved was gone as well. That seemed to hurt more than anything. His bloodthirsty eyes gazing at you from behind that retched mask. A creature of ill intent. One touch from it and you'll salivate at the mere thought of the flesh of your own kind, Alastor's words seemed to hum in your mind like a swarm of angry bees.

He started killing before that though. He told me he did.

Alastor's hand trailed up your side and pulled you from your sour thoughts, leisurely running along your arm so he could hold your hand in his.

"Feeling alright, my love?" he whispered against your neck. What were you meant to say? You were physically fine, but mentally? Your mind was just about as organized as a child's room. You could feel him give your hand a small squeeze of comfort. "I'll be fine," you lied through your teeth, knowing damn well that it would be a very long time before you'd recover from the shock — if you ever recovered at all, that is.

Alastor hummed gently in your ear. "We should get married."

What?

"Alastor-" you began but were quickly silenced by a soft "hush". The man brought your hand up to his face and kissed it. "Not now, but I want to know that you'll always stay by me. A vow of trust," he whispered, lightly nipping at your bruised and marked neck, littered with hickeys and love bites. You remained silent and closed your heavy eyes, simply wishing to fall asleep and stay away from this horrible reality you were trapped in. "I'll leave you to rest now. Goodnight, doll," he drawled and began shifting himself away from you, but you kept a tight hold on his hand.

"Please don't leave me." Somehow, the thought of being cold and lonely seemed more frightening than being warm and in the arms of a murderer. He laughed. His warmth returned to your back and he snuggled close to you, resting his chin on your shoulder while you basked in his affection. I can't keep doing this. That thought was something that plagued your heart and mind every single day since you had found out. I just can't. "I still can't get over what you did for me," you whispered, feeling a warm chuckle shake his chest.

"And, somehow, we both live on."

Somehow, we do.

-

You silently listened to Alastor's broadcast as you sat in his recording room and fed the flytraps. Monarch growled and hissed viciously, snapping at Caterpillar. The smallest of the batch cowered and drooped its petals down, looking ashamed. The fact that the situation reminded you of Damien caused your heart to wrench in your chest, a spider being fed to Caterpillar to cheer it up. Tsetse scolded the gluttonous trapper with a snarl. "Shh, it's alright," you hushed the plants, gazing upon Foxglove. The poor thing had been looking rather dim as of recent, often refusing to eat or simply hanging low.