Til Death Do Us Part (Alastor x Reader)

Chapter 9: Anniversary

⚠️ SH trigger warning⚠️
~~~~~Y/N~~~~~
As the lukewarm water runs over my aching body, I think of Alastor. I never would've guessed he is one of the most notorious serial killers in the United States. Sure, he seemed a bit...off the more I got to know him, but I never would've guessed his hands were stained in red as well. It makes me feel a deeper connection with him. I smile to myself, rinsing the shampoo out of my hair. The smell of cedar hits your nose. I can't believe I get to smell like him, it's comforting, like home with my sister.

Josie. She's always been kind to me, despite our father. She has been a godsend my entire life, sneaking me food when our father would starve me, patching up my... wounds, comforting me while I cry, chained in the basement.

I don't remember a life before the abuse, but I'd like to think our father was kind to me, but my gut tells me this is not true, that's why I felt no remorse for killing him. The scars on my back sting slightly at the thought of him whipping me with a flog, and my eyes go dull thinking about it all.

I should've tortured him; I should've slowly fed him the poison... One drop at a time. Make him slowly suffer. The reason we never had any money was because of him. He drank it all away. The scars sting more, and I claw at my shoulders, creating new marks. At this point, my whole body is littered in old and new scars, some from my father, some from myself, but my sister covers them well. Would Alastor still find me beautiful?

I shake my head from the loud thoughts and turn off the water, before stepping onto one of the already laid out towels on the white tiled floor. I see an extra towel, and I snag it, wrapping my hair up to keep it from dripping everywhere. I take the other towel and wrap it around my body, clutching it tightly.

I notice there is not mirror in this bathroom, but I soon shake it off, padding into his living quarters. The neatly folded black lounge set stares back at me, and I immediately grimace. It's short sleeved, meaning I would have to show my arms without the makeup. Maybe he wont notice.

It's Alastor, of course he's going to notice.

I try to not think about it as I slip on the clothes, before taking my mass of hair down, scrunching it with my fingers. The lounge set is a bit long on me, which I am grateful for. The satin slides against my skin, causing a shiver to run up my spine. I glance down at the scars adorning my body from abuse and self harm.

"No one will love you with scars like that. You will die alone." My father's voice booms loud in my ears. I cover them, lowering myself onto the carpet.

He's not real. He's dead. Relax. Take a deep breath, just like Josie told you. I take a deep breath, counting to 10, before slowly getting up on shaky legs. I walk towards the door, immediately noticing a small note with a flower sitting neatly on top. My heart warms; a smile spreads across my face. I pick up the note, but before reading it, I push the flower into my hair. His neat handwriting stares back at me, waiting to be read.

My lovely Y/N,
You are the closest to heaven I will ever get, but I cannot help but to indulge. Your soft s/c skin like the fluffy clouds above, your h/c locks fluffy like the feathers of angels. Your smile God would envy, but of course, your eyes, they shine like the galaxy laid out before us. Your are truly the most beautiful creature I've ever laid my eyes on. You are my heaven, my dear. My muse.
Until we meet again, my angel.
Sincerely, Alastor.

With the largest smile seen to man, I open the door, to be met with more of the same wildflowers, arranging in colors from white, to blue, to deep purple... I reach down to the flowers, picking them up and placing them into my hair into a makeshift crown.

I follow the sounds of music and the sweet smell of Alastor's cooking. I see an array of little treats fixed onto the dining counter, which now has a white tablecloth laid across it with small candles filling the room with a slight scent. Alastor hums at the stove, not noticing me, and sways his hips to the jazzy tune.