"Daisies"- By Black Gryph0n (Human! Alastor x Reader)
Warnings!!: Death/Implied smut/ Unwise decisions/Etc that I can't think of.
PS. If anyone could tell me who this artist is, I will happily tag them. Thank you!!
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It's been six months since your life was forced to change.
Six months since Alastor--now your husband--killed his father in the family home and buried the remains of his parents in a place that no one would find.
That night was a rough one, spending hours helping him clean up the mess. Blood was tough. He'd noticed that you were different when he finally sent you home, almost like you weren't present in your own body. Detached, if you will.
Unfortunately, that was something that had not changed.
From the night you left, to the day he found a new house on the other side of town and helped you move in despite your mother's protests, to being in the courthouse and signing your names on the dotted line, to the mornings when he left to go to work, that detachment never seemed to leave you.
He attempted taking you out to local speakeasies. Hoping that a little shindig would make you feel better but, nothing. You simply found a place to sit while he made merry times and connections with folks you didn't know nor care about. He'd ask you how your day at work had been when you returned home, the only response he received was a low “It was fine..” before you went up stairs and stayed there until he fetched you for dinner.
It was depressing really. That girl that knocked Billy Butchum in the head with a brick, the one the helped him pick up his quarters off of the ground, listened to his corny jokes, and even offered him her home during hard times, was gone. It was like a part of you just vanished.
Some days he wondered if your spirit died with his parents that day. If so he was regretful of that. Especially after he tried everything he could think of to lift your spirits.
A woman like you had all she could want in this wretched economic plunder. He didn't see what all the fuss was about with you being such a Debbie Downer but still, he did his best to make this situation for you as bearable as possible.
Despite the two of you only being married on paper, Alastor still tried to treat you like a proper husband should.
Every week on his pay day, he brought you a small bouquet of roses from the children trying to earn some funds for food. Hoping that throughout your days at home you would stop to take a sniff and be reminded of him. He took it upon himself to cook most nights, giving you hearty meals instead of that poor excuse of food your mother used to feed you, and even though you shared a room, Alastor took the couch every night to supply you with the space you seemingly needed.
But alas, all his attempts were in vain if you wouldn't smile, much less even react as a normal human should. It was almost like you were lobotomized. Numb to emotions and the world around you, which was a type of moping that he could not be around for the rest of his life.
It took a few concerned looks and nosey coworkers asking questions for him to realize that he was actually worried about you. Finding himself thinking of you at all hours of the day and how many things he could do to fix such a sad face.
He sighed, rubbing his temples. Women were so complicated..
Every day he had to endure your face frowning and eyes empty, slowly starting eating at his soul. An unhappy face on you was as ill fitting as a dress that was three sizes too big.
It was only when he went back to the scene of his first crime, that the idea struck. Looking at the jaw of the man he called Father hanging on the wall, the gears in his head began to turn.
He was such a fool! How could he be so simple minded?!
Despite his charming smile and enthusiastic efforts there was no way only one would be able to lift your spirits. No no no! He had to get more!
He started immediately. Weeding out the joe-shmoes during the night and leading them to their untimely demise. Using his trusty axe to lop off their heads, robbing the bodies of their lower jaws to place on the wall next to his father's. Along with a pretty picture to show just how pearly those whites were.
Was he sure if this would work? Not at all! But he made damn sure that he did everything in his power to make the most of it.
He needed to see you smile.
Two weeks of capturing and hacking. Burying bodies and hiding his bloodstained clothes from you when he came home from work.
Anxiety rattled his bones as the days went by. He still acted like he was normal, speaking to you, flowers, and even a new blouse while praying that his efforts would not be in vain this time.
Until one day, they paid off.
He came downstairs and found something on the table as he munched on a cold biscuit from the ice chest.
There on the table, was a neatly wrapped container of dinner from a few days ago. A small note rested on top along with a cup of black coffee.
I hope you have a good day today at the station. Tonight I feel well enough to cook for old times sake. It's not as good as your's but, come home ready to eat! Thank you for not giving up on me and for all the things you've been trying to do to make me feel better. Don't forget to smile! :)
He read the note again and again to make sure he wasn't dreaming. Clutching it to his chest with victory as he smiled, genuinely smiled at nothing and no one.
After all this time it had finally worked! All those bones he had smashed were worth it, you even used the old nickname he gave you when you were kids as your signature. A verbal gift of his since your first real sewing machine was indeed a singer brand.
Truly this was the happiest Alastor had since the most wretched one. The day couldn't go fast enough at the station. He was extra enthusiastic for his shift, even receiving good feedback from his boss at the way he sounded more lively.
He returned home as fast as he could to find you in the kitchen, humming to yourself the latest tune on the radio that played nearby.
Your hair was messy, with bits of chopped vegetables sprawled on the counter. A few smudges of flour were on your face, the table, and the apron you wore as you dusted your hands on it. Reading the open cookbook that once belonged to his mother as he watched you remove a small yellow cake from the oven.
It was a sponge cake. Your favorite snack whenever you ate out somewhere in town. A flash of pride shone in your eye as you carefully placed the cake on the counter, huffing with your hands on your hips.
In that moment, there on your face as plain as day was a large grin. Proud of yourself for your creation coming out just as you wanted it to, you even did a cute little clap for yourself.
That sight was what he needed to keep going. To move on from the death he had inflicted on his father and the poor souls he used to make a display in your honor. You were a burning fire in this frigid world, a fire that he needed to nurture, protect, and fuel.
Placing his bag down, he cleared his throat. Causing you to turn around with a frightful hand on your chest. “Alastor, you startled me!” You gasped before letting it turn into an embarrassed smile. “I’m sorry, you got back before I could finish the cake so dinner isn't completely done yet--”
Closing the gap between you in five steps flat, Alastor grabbed you gently, bending you in his arms and sealing your lips with a hungry kiss.
It wasn't any type of kiss, no no. It was the kind that made your face red and your heart pound. The kind that made his body burn with impulse and a passion that he'd never felt for anyone else before. The kisses he read about aloud on air, those sickeningly sweet ones that made the girls giggle and the guys jealous. Despite his teeth clacking with yours and his lips being chapped, you were receptive. A small moan traveling through the connection as you cradled his cheek lovingly.
Suddenly, he broke away and threw you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Rushing to turn everything off and carry you to the bedroom. Dinner was allowed to get cold and your cake remained unfrosted that night.
That was the second longest evening of your lives. Holding you in his arms felt different than before, instead of being stiff and scared, you spent the most of it whispering his name.
The moon and stars disappeared as the sun rose early the next morning. All he remembered was flopping beside you and getting smacked with a pillow for interrupting your attempt at domestic duties.
Getting up was absolutely excruciating. Struggling to find the strength in his heart to unravel your limbs from his body, clinging to him like a life line as you snored softly into his shoulder. A level of trust he hadn't even known he wanted from you all this time until you were in his arms, stroking your hair from your face as he gently aroused you from slumber.
Because of you, he almost didn't make it to work on time that morning. For you turned into a completely different woman than the one he had been married to for six months. Literally whining and complaining as he got dressed, trying your best to lure him back to bed with your gem-like eyes and watery lashes. Bringing him dangerously close to calling out when he went to walk away, only for you to grab him by his waist belt with a pout that would make him burn the fucking world down if you'd ever did that again.
It made what was left of his heart flutter. Knowing that you wanted him to stay after he tormented you last night, that you didn't even want more pleasure, but just to simply be in his presence for the rest of the day.
So he leveled with you. Instead of calling out he requested to come in the afternoon instead due to an unexpected appointment. Sweat grew in his palms when his boss agreed but told him to make sure this didn't happen again.
He smiled genuinely when he told you the good news and you threw up your hands happily, wearing his button down that was somehow too big yet too tight for you at the same time.
That morning was spent domestically in only a way that best friends could. His messy hair and shirtless body made you salivate when you thought he wasn't looking, trying not to get caught staring while you enjoyed your morning drinks. Dinner was stored, lunches were packed, and breakfast was made with Alastor standing behind you to guide your pancake flipping skills after the first two came out a bit too crispy for his liking. Silence was replaced with playful banter and gentle teasing. Splashing each other with water while washing the dishes, a competition on who had the worst bed head, and him tickling you stupid to find out what you had done with his right shoe. Hiding it somewhere in hopes that it would hinder him from having to leave.
Months turned into years as you turned around for the better.
Suddenly you found yourself more calm and poised, returning once more to the fierce woman you were before. Regardless of the reason you married him, it started becoming easier and easier to love him over the span of time.
Those gestures you used to somberly accept turned into actual joy. No more did you simply allow yourself to exist through life, instead taking the time to actually live it with him by your side. Naturally, you started to smile more and more, keeping him on his toes when he arrived home to find you doing something new to keep you occupied after your own job.
There were days where you fought of course. Spatting curses at each other over trivial things like bills and his career. Sometimes he stormed out, slamming the door shut with the loud stomping of his shoes causing regret to swell within your heart. That cursed frown would return to your face, reminding him of how you were before.
He'd take his alone time to cool down. Cleaning blood stained clothes and disposing of evidence while you were gone. Waking the streets, he picked out victims for both you and himself, listening to the headlines of the bodies that were found near the bayou's.
Alastor would only smile knowingly, loving the delicious thrill of not even being slightly suspicious.
The price for his future and your smile was high, but it was a worthy sacrifice indeed whenever he apologized with jazz and a slow dance with you on his toes. Unaware of just how much blood dripped from the very hands that cupped your face. How his handsome face that made your laugh was the last face that some unfortunate souls ever got to see.
Alastor truly believed that keeping the smiles of those around him would give energy to your own. Resulting in him claiming more and more innocent lives.
Whenever that thunderstorm of life tried to weigh you down, he'd go out to claim more trophies. Pinning them on the cabin wall of his childhood home to form a twisted shrine of sorts. The antlers from the buck he shot as a teen sat at the top, then pictures of the sad saps he killed were displayed in the middle, and at the bottom on a small table sat a photo of you with his mother's radio right next to it.
Such a naive girl you were. With no knowledge of the things he did behind your back, of the clues hidden in plain sight, of the fate that would befall him in the upcoming weeks after his next victim was chosen.
Fate covered your eyes and his. Allowing you both I get comfortable in something that felt like it could last forever. Unaware that the bouquet of daisies he brought home after his shift that week and the kiss he gave you the next morning, would be his last...
