Human Alastor x Reader | WC; 2.2k | Fluff, Suggestive themes, Fem french ⭑.ᐟ
Every night with Alastor was like a dream, something taken directly from the pages of a familiar fairytale with magic weaved within even the simplest moments that the two of you shared.
The time you spent together naturally fell into a particular routine; the same club, the same music and your hands intertwined with his as he twirled you around the dancefloor until dangerously late hours of the night. He would briefly abandon your side to captivate everyone with the way he so effortlessly glided his fingers across pianokeys, although he would quickly return to you once he was satisfied with the amount he had dazzled the crowd, barely giving you the opportunity to tip back the last gulp of your drink before he was excitedly spinning your form in circles. His movements made you dizzy, hazy — a possible result of the burning liquid you consumed as opposed to his actions, or perhaps it was simply because you were so enamoured with him.
Every night with Alastor left you breathless and weary, yet you never grew tired of the pattern that had unintentionally formed between the two of you. It always felt new, exciting, like you didn’t repeat the events that occurred every time that you met with him, and you craved the blissful feeling that consumed you whenever he was in your presence. However, your favourite part of the night — if you absolutely had to choose just one — was this.
The speakeasy far behind you, the noisy chatter from those situated within it now reduced to soft, tipsy giggles and the occasional rustle as the cool breeze gently brushed between leaves. Dazzling lights replaced by the simple glow of the moon to illuminate the path that he accompanied you down every night you spent with him, your arm linked with his until he inevitably disconnected them to gather your hand. It surprised you slightly the first time, blushing within the warmth of his grasp before he effortlessly twirled you down the path, perfectly matching the routine he had previously guided you through on the dancefloor.
The lack of music would probably make this appear awkward to anyone else that witnessed the two of you in this state, but the joyful laughter that you released with every step he lead you in was a melody more perfect than anything the night’s musicians had produced, a tune more catchy than anything he had ever heard on the radio that only fuelled his movements with every sweet, infectious giggle that escaped from you. Your shameless actions would leave anyone certain that this was a display of drunken behaviour — a valid deduction and perhaps the truth to some extent.
You would have enjoyed just simply walking beside him with your arm comfortably wrapped around his, yet you came to anticipate the way he spun you through the detour that you always took on your journey home. As the true gentlemen he was so carefully raised to be, Alastor would never let you walk home alone — if you could even really consider it a walk home. A simple part of the night, something that anyone else would hardly await, but it somehow left you more breathless than he did at the speakeasy.
Another calculated twirl dragged a further elated laugh from your lips, your slightly weak legs causing you to gracefully fall forwards with your hands settling against his chest. Dark brown eyes peered at you over small frames with a certain warmth laced within them; affectionate with a hint of playfulness. The dainty chains connected to his glasses swayed with the subtle tilt of his head, his grin growing to accompany his teasing tone. “Tired, my dear?”
Tired? You could never grow tired when you were spending time with Alastor, no matter how much he exhausted your form with his excessive twirls and dips. Your body wouldn’t allow you to feel weary in his presence, completely overcome by your desire to remain with him for as long as possible, even if your weak legs begged for you to fall beneath the plush sheets of your bed.
You shook your head, a bright smile on your face to pair with the energy you attempted to display. “Not at all. I would quite happily do this with you all night.”
He hummed, unconvinced when he detected the true exhaustion in your eyes; subtle in your efforts, but obvious to someone as perceptive as him. “As wonderful as that sounds, it would be rather selfish of me to keep you up all night.”
Your smile fell at the realisation that your night was now reaching its end, something that Alastor immediately noticed and aimed to fix by gently pinching your cheek. “Now now, none of that, sweetheart! You have quite the captivating smile. It would be a shame to lose it now and deprive me of the sight, wouldn’t you agree?”
The charming way in which Alastor spoke was enough to leave anyone’s heart fluttering in response, your own thudding at the compliment hard enough that you feared for a split second that he could feel each harsh beat against his own chest. You couldn’t suppress the grin that inevitably tugged at your lips upon hearing his words, his own smile widening in satisfaction at the fulfilment of his desire.
“Comme elle est belle! Much better indeed.” He exclaimed. “Now that we’ve fixed that little problem, let’s continue on our journey, shall we?”
He expected this to encourage you to resume your steps down the path, a contemplative hum escaping from him when it did little to motivate your movements. Your hands gripped at his waistcoat beneath your fingertips instead, tightening around the silky red fabric with the intention of keeping him close as you gazed up at him with that dejected look once again. It conveyed a silent plea, something that had grown so familiar to Alastor — an unavoidable moment you provided him with whenever your night would approach its inevitable end.
He sighed, not out of irritation, but in complete defeat. Although his smile remained, it appeared slightly weaker beneath your sorrowful stare, refusing to fall completely despite his own disheartened state that he effortlessly concealed behind his whimsical nature.
“Ma chérie,” Alastor muttered with his hands settling over the top of yours. His fingers wrapped around them to carefully remove your grip on his waistcoat, giving your hands a gentle squeeze as he cradled them within his own. “There’s no need to frown. I’m certain that this won’t be our last night together.”
“Do we need to end this night right now?”
He scanned your eyes for a moment — bright, but visibly weary nonetheless. A smirk graced his features at how evidently you were trying to fight the exhaustion you truly felt. “I believe it would be in your best interest.”
“I disagree.” You shook your head. “I believe that continuing the night would be in my best interest.”
“How persistent.” He teased. “I admire your efforts to spend more time with me, darling, but you underestimate the importance of sleep. A necessity to someone as beautiful as yourself!”
“If that’s what you’re concerned about, then let me offer you a compromise.” You spoke with a playful look that left him curiously raising an eyebrow. “Stay the night.”
Alastor blinked. “Pardon?”
“Stay the night!” You repeated with more enthusiasm now. “Sleeping at your side is a fair solution to both of our troubles, is it not?”
For once, Alastor was speechless, unable to form a witty response as he continued to blink back in surprise. He slowly released your hands, bringing his own up to adjust his glasses. “That’s… quite a bold request.”
Alastor leaned forward before you could respond, his face dangerously close to yours and his voice falling to a low volume. “Are you aware of what it sounds like you’re asking of me, my dear?”
“Very,” You breathily laughed. “but I promise that my intentions are completely innocent.”
Alastor hummed, amused by your response but seemingly unconvinced as he peered back at your batting eyes — dark, flirtatious and so dangerously tempting. Were your intentions truly innocent?
Almost like you could sense the thought in his mind, you continued on to reassure him. “Just sleeping. That’s all I’m asking of you, I swear it.”
The way you attempted to convince him of your innocence was entertaining, and it entertained him more to see that you felt a need to do so. Whether you really meant every word you said or there was a different intention behind your request mattered little to him. His reluctance didn’t come from a place of disgust or lack of desire for the latter, but rather, he wanted to build up to that moment correctly — the proper way that you deserved, not just an impulsive exchange.
“Innocent intentions or not, sharing a bed with someone you’re not married to is improper.” Alastor replied lightheartedly.
You folded your arms across your chest, pondering in silence for a moment until that mischievous expression returned to your face, one that he was growing more and more accustomed to throughout the night. “I guess we’ll just have to get married then.”
Alastor’s lips parted to give a response, yet he found the words stolen from him once again, unable to form in the smooth, whimsical way that usually happened so naturally for him. He huffed and gripped the edge of his glasses to adjust them once more, a habit he was starting to form whenever he found himself attempting to regain his composure.
“You’re full of bold requests tonight, aren’t you?” He muttered. “But if I recall, it’s my job to ask you that question, although I don’t quite remember even asking to court you yet.”
Before you could even respond, Alastor settled a finger over your lips at the sight of them opening, almost like he sensed that you were ready to challenge him again with another comment. “Which I did intend to do tonight, might I add. I had quite the buildup prepared but instead you let that impatience of yours interfere with my plans.”
Disbelief painted your face, his words leaving you the one speechless now. He grinned in delight at how he had managed to switch your positions, absentmindedly beginning to trail his finger across your plush lips. Alastor barely acknowledged the silence that had settled between the two of you, too lost in how smooth your skin felt beneath his digits that continued to trace upwards, until his palm eventually flattened against your cheek.
“I suppose this way of asking you will suffice.” His tone was a little softer now, more gentle as he continued. “So, what do you say, ma chérie?”
“Are you serious?” You quietly asked, a hint of wariness in your voice, which only made him roll his eyes slightly at the fact that you even considered the possibility that he was anything but serious.
“Asking to court someone as a joke isn’t really my kind of humour.” Alastor scoffed, a sigh escaping from him when he caught a glimpse of your unimpressed stare. “Yes, darling. I’m serious.”
You scanned his brown eyes in search of that mischievous sparkle they usually held, an attempt to try and prove your suspicions. However, the more you searched, the more you were proven wrong, staring into dark eyes that displayed a lack of their usual playfulness, replaced entirely by something softer — gentle, adoring and utterly infatuated. You believed him at that realisation and leaned into the warmth of his hand now that your fears were dispelled.
“Then I would be honoured.” You finally managed to breathily respond.
“Merveilleux. Although I must say I’m the one who is honoured.” He slowly swiped his thumb across your cheek, deliberate and tender.
A comfortable silence settled over the two of you, granting him the opportunity to simply relish in the joy you radiated. His digit stilled against your skin, a result of how he began to lose himself in an enamoured trance that perfectly matched your own. Infatuation wasn’t a feeling he was familiar with, something that he believed he would never experience and would probably scoff at when witnessing its effect on others, yet he found himself welcoming its warmth with you. He could only admire you for your ability to do such a thing — to reduce him to nothing but a besotted man in your presence.
With a soft exhale, he carefully retracted his hand, reluctant to continue at the thought of your disheartened reaction. “Now then— and do try your best not to pout when I say this, sweetheart— but I believe it’s time to return you home.”
Despite Alastor’s words, your smile fell into a look of disappointment, and the sudden shift in your mood encouraged him to gather your hand in his.
“Mon amour,” He leaned forward and pressed his plush lips to the back of it, his kiss delicate and fleeting before he drew back to peer up at you. “Did I not mention earlier how captivating that smile of yours is? If you show it to me again, I might even consider your little request.”
He tilted his head to the side as his voice lowered, a hint of hunger suddenly in his gaze.
“It’s not completely improper if I’m courting you, is it?”