The Guardian of Halloween [A Disney Fanfic]

𝔊𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔬𝔫 [𝔓𝔞𝔯𝔱 2]

☆.｡.:* 🕷️ *:.｡.☆

Gaston x fem! reader

☆.｡.:* 🕷️ *:.｡.☆

Gaston returned to the village, his mind whirring faster and faster with each step. She was one of them. He clenched his fingers over his gun as he remembered her eyes. It would have been easier to kill them – to kill her – had they not been so ethereal. He cursed, stomping through the muck. He didn't care now if he left footprints behind. Let them follow. Let them come. Perhaps he might have a chance to finish what he started.

He stormed into his house and slammed the door shut. He didn't want to be here. He couldn't be here. In a matter of hours, the sun would rise and M Raphael would tell everyone what Gaston had set out to do. And when they saw him without a carcass over his shoulder, soaking in beer by the fire, they would know that he had failed. It wasn't terrible that he had failed to kill one, but it wasn't good enough that he had gone after them. He needed more.

But that would take more. Bigger game required bigger and grander attempts. And Gaston was willing to do whatever it took. He would restore his respect in the village. He would triumph over the woman who had nearly killed him. He would be the village hero again. Every woman would fall at his feet and fawn over his skill, and every man would be in awe, wishing desperately to be his closest confidant. Not that Gaston required or desired such companionship.

Gaston took every weapon he owned and stuffed them in a pack. He would concern himself with adorning them later. He would not seek out the beasts tonight. First, he would prepare, and he would study his prey like he did any other. He grabbed some other gear, spare fabric, rope, a couple of pieces of cookware, whatever he thought he might need in the coming days or the coming weeks. Let the town think he was dead. He would not rest until he had at least one corpse to prove his victory, preferably the one who had nearly taken his life.

Gaston stilled as the image of the woman flickered across his mind. What had she been doing with the undead creatures? Had they turned her, as they had so many? He scoffed, reaching into a drawer to pull out his socks and stuff them into his bag. "I doubt any of them would want to spend a second with her."

Once he was sure he had everything, he stormed back out into the night, disappearing back into the forest, back to the clearing where he had found the undead celebrating their night. He doubted he would find them. After all, they had fled immediately upon noticing him and disappeared into the darkest shadows, becoming one with the night. And if the legends were to be believed, this would be the one night they could be found in the woods. After the sun rose they would disappear to their lair, only appearing on rare occurrences when they thirsted for the blood of mortals. But where that lair was, no one knew.

Still, Gaston was determined, more so than he ever had been. He was going to find the undead creatures, and he would save his village from their reign of terror. And after killing the woman who had nearly done him in, he would finally become the village hero once again.

Suddenly, a gust of wind swept through the village, forcing Gaston's door open, slamming the wooden board into the wall and rattling the building as it doused the flames, leaving Gaston stranded in darkness. The man whipped around, dropping his things and pulling out his rifle, aiming it towards the door, his finger hovering over the trigger. A chilling cold swept through the house and Gaston shuddered at the sensation.

Just as he was lowering his gun, the fire in the hearth burst to life, flooding the house with light. But despite the warm flickering of the fire, the light seemed cold, as if it was working to drain the life of everything in the house.