contains: webttore appearance, reader is iconic, reader misses sumeru and zandik does too, akademiya flashbacks, you will get second hand embarassment reading ts bcs of reader, no use of y/n, zandik is still a tsundere lol, not proofread, english is not my first language, awkward atmosphere.
The arctic nights of zapolyarny palace were much more annoying than usual tonight, you blamed it on the storm that accured as you were sitting in Zandiks office, pondering about your homeland. The storms in snezhnaya were unbearable for you; especially since you didnt accustom to the frigid weather yet. You missed sumeru deeply and you knew that deep down your lover did too.
You sighed to yourself, the dangerous winter of snezhnaya is not for the weak. You were lucky that you don't work outside, nor have to leave the coziness of the palace. You pulled the blanket up to your chin, fixing your position on the couch. Your mind wandering to one of the first times you've slept in the same bed as Zandik, the two of you on the opposite side of the cramped bed, backs turned to eachother. You had this mischievous plan to get close to him once he fell asleep, testing his reaction when he will wake up; however it didn't go as planned. Firstly Zandik didn't seem to be wanting to fall asleep, you would say he wasn't sleepy in the slightest! So you changed your plan and pretended to be moving your position in your sleep. Secondly, when you finally got close to him, he didn't move an inch! Could you believe him? A perfectly perfect woman cuddling him up in his bed and he didn't even react!? Scandalous. Unfortunately you ended up falling asleep for real this time after that and you both woke up a sweaty mess, , , or atleast you assumed zandik did too since when you woke up the shower was already running. You had to air out the bedroom after that.
At that moment you were completely annoyed at the situation and your seemingly failed mission, but right now you couldn't help but miss it. Miss sumeru. Miss your akademiya days... well not necessarily the akademiya itself but the memories that you created attending it. Nowadays you have to stay cuddled up to preserve warmth, not that you're complaining about being in the arms of your beloved, but when he isn't there even the third layer of your blanket isn't helping.
Unfortunately Zandik typically isn't there, being busy with studying eleazar in the hospital along with the ley lines and the political stuff that were inevitable with being a harbinger. Especially the second of the eleven fatui harbingers.
"What is troubling you?" Zandik asked, clearly pretty patient with you even though you could tell he was more than annoyed with all the paperwork laying upon his desk, however less annoyed than he typically would. Recently, he successfully created his first segment after multiple failures. Of course he would never admit they were failures, more so miscalculated, unexpected results.
"It's nothing. I just lost the page i was on." You replied looking down on the closed book on your lap. "You know with all the noises outside its nearly impossible to focus, how do you do it so effortlessly?"
"Flattery will get you nowhere." You could feel his eyes burning at the back of your head. However its true, it was very noisy outside: previously you were wondering if the heavy glass will survive and not break under the pressure of the storm. You mindlessly flipped through the pages of the book you carefully have chosen two hours ago, wait...what book were you reading again?
"as much as i. . . tolerate your company. I do know that your brain is pretty much turned off by this hour and you might start talking gibberish soon." By the sounds of a pen scratching against Zandiks desk you could tell he continued with his work. "I am willing to call Beta for him to accompany you on your way to our chambers. It might be an useful opportunity for him to learn the terrain more."
You giggled slightly as you remembered how last week Beta got lost in the zapolyarny palace, stepping into the marionettes territory instead of delivering a letter to Crucabena, who was and still is the head of the house the hearth orphanage. You giggled even more stupidly as you remembered how pissed Zandik was. Turns out Beta is not as perfect as his creator wanted him to be, yet.
"Confirms my observation." He murmured to himself watching you giggle to yourself, despite everything he couldn't help but crack a small smile. You looked so worried earlier, looks like your mood changed.
"I heard that you know!" You finally turned around to look at him from your seat. "Okay, but... I do have a question"
"What kind of a question?" He spared you a glance, clearly amused as you made your way to his desk, then next to him, then onto his lap.
"A very important one! If i were to leave you-" "-Doubtful."
"Let me finish!" You grunted, starting to lightly play with his tie. "If i were to leave you, how would you react? What would you do?"
Silence. The room suddenly got quiet or perhaps a certain someone got silenced for once. It was not the good kind of silence too, it was the one that made you want to rip your hair out. You cringed at your question just as soon those words slipped your mouth. You tried to help, to loosen the atmosphere but clearly you just made it even more tense.
"You know like . . . Would you send every single fatui soldier to look for me? Like in those fantasy, fairytale childhood stories that were read to almost every child in sumeru? Would you search every nation, every nook just for me? Just to find me? Just like those knights when they lost their princess?" You stopped abruptly when you couldn't read Zandiks expression anymore. He was staring at you with a blankless expression that made you question every sound that come out of your mouth, until he suddently bursts out laughing. A laugh that you knew a little to well, a laugh that signaled that you just made a fool out of yourself. You hid your head into his shoulder, embarrased.
"oh! I shall call Beta immediately, you don't know what you're saying anymore. You never fail to entertain me!" He stood up, carefully sitting you on his chair that he just sat a second ago. Just as he was about to leave the room he stopped right in the doorway when you started talking.
"Don't you remember the gibberish you were saying when you had that high fever in second year? Or when you begged me to not look at you when you almost threw up all over yourself from the dizziness when we were investigating that one ruin guard in the desert? Mind you we weren't inside even like 5 minutes." You looked up at him as he silently fixed his glasses with his thumb.
"First you're asking dumb questions and now you're making me remember some of my least proudest moments? Truly, i didn't expect you to stoop so low. You won't change my mind, Beta shall accompany you tonight."
"Beta is such a boring name. . . Why don't we call him webttore?" He rolled your eyes at your request. You continued "webttore suits him! he acts like a webtoon character! dottore, webttore, dottore, webttore . . ."
"That's enough." He pinched the top of his nose.
The banter between you ended faster than expected, Zandik lost it when you practically fell asleep on his lap. As your beloved said webttore walked you to your chambers, suprisingly you didn't get lost. As he opened the door with a key and gestured that you make your way inside, you immediately jumped onto the bed exhausted, not bothering to change your clothes nor take your shoes off.
Your eyes fluttered open to see where Beta went, to your surprise he didn't move an inch from the doorway. He stared at you, blankly, just like Zandik did earlier. It was creepier now though, Beta had this mask of his and the shadows of the bedroom certainly weren't helping your imagination. He didn't even react when your eyes met, he still just stood there. Watching. Observing.
"um. . . are you going to come in?" You said so quietly that you weren't even sure he heard it. Like he just snapped out of something he quickly closed the door behind him, leaving you all alone.
Strange, you thought, but endearing. You have yet to grow accustom to this clone of your lover, truth to be told you didn't find him that bad, actually you find him pretty cute. Of course no one could ever replace your lover if he mysteriously disappeared, not a clone, not a segment. Zandik is Zandik and a segment is a segment. Nothing is ever going to change that.
contains: hurt/little comfort, character death | based off 6.6 spoilers | 1.7k wc
There was little to do in the hour left you had to mourn. To mourn the life that was destined to end, were it not for fate then it most certainty would’ve been nature itself. This had to be fate playing a cruel hand to you and your lover. The one who’s bedside you sat besides, much older and frailer than you remember. Zandik, the only love of your life, the one you would’ve been laying with were it not for his insistence on your life to extend past that of his own. You, ageless and forever in your prime. You once stood together like that, in the prime of both of your lives. Oh, just where had the time gone? It felt like only yesterday you two were mapping out the laboratory granted to Zandik- or rather, Dottore as a Fatui Harbinger. If only time had been kinder, then maybe your partner wouldn’t be breathing as if he was expected to rather than with ease.
The decline began when the back aches began. These weren’t the usual pains Dottore would feel when stretching after a long night spent filing paperwork away, researching, and working at his desk. No, this pain was lasting. A gentle reminder for him to take care of his health better; you lectured him until he’d eventually come to rest with you. You seemed more aware of his health than he ever was, almost ironic considering he was supposed to be the doctor here. He was fifty years old at that point. Plenty of time for Dottore to consider his health seriously.
“It’s rather late, don’t you think? I’m quite tired myself.” As if you were the harbinger himself, you simply waltzed inside at some point. If you had just arrived, he wouldn’t have known, as his work kept his attention occupied to the point of extreme focus. Most of the work given could only be oversaw by The Doctor himself. The paperwork that covered his desk spoke enough in its own sheer volume.
“Which begs the question as to why you are here yourself, my dear.” Your retort came quickly, as expected of someone of your diligence. “Don’t turn this around on me, Zandik. I expect you to be in bed at least twice a week.” The faintest sound of a hum emitted from the Harbinger. “You would rather have me tonight than tomorrow?” Never had he outright declined you regarding this arrangement you had set for the two of you. It had begun as more of a compromise, now it had turned into its own rule.
Your approach came from behind, arms wrapped around his neck as if to pull him into a rest just with your touch alone. If only you’d stay like this for a bit longer, he quite liked the feeling.
It wasn’t long before the Doctor would be in bed with you.
Now, was seeing Zandik with gray hairs common? Of course, he was often stressed due to his responsibilities as a Harbinger. It was no surprise to you or him, it was however a notable sight to see his light locks begin turning less blue and more muted. You acknowledged then exactly what it told, it was his age showing. After decades, it seems his age was becoming more obvious by the years that passed in handful. Neither of you lamented on this, it would be unnecessarily consuming for the time you two had left.
Initially you had been insistent on aging on with him. It felt disturbing to know your beloved Zandik was going to eventually leave you sooner rather than later. The endless march of death seemed more of a bother than an inevitability, you would’ve been just fine to die right with him. As sad as it may sound, you did not have anyone but him. Zandik, likewise, had nobody else other than you. Though Pantalone was a good friend, his closest, there was only one person like you who fit into the slot of his organic heart.
You two only had each other, which worked now and especially back in the akademiya. To lose him would be losing a part of yourself you had never learned to let go, regardless of his actions and deeds you never once planned to abandon him. Yet now you were faced with the difficult decision of needing to live on for him. Eventually you would find the will to live on for yourself, but that would take a while, maybe forever if you couldn’t bring yourself to acknowledge your own pains.
It was within your best interest to focus on other matters that would not cause you stress or headaches. Omega had said, almost insisted really, while attempting to console you. You chose to not bring the topic up to him thereafter.
The sight of Zandik, now so frail, so utterly aged. He looked too human to resemble the monster his village swore him to be, laid like this. Eighty years old, much older now. He didn’t quite resemble the Doctor you knew, it almost seemed as if that rigid scholar you knew back in the akademiya had returned in a way, though not with the energy and youth. It was more so his overall behavior.
He was far less reserved with his mannerism, though he needed assistance to get around now, which you happily aided him in. There was a light that wasn’t there before, a flickering one at that, still there, nonetheless. When he began using a wheelchair was when you’d take him on walks throughout the lab or around Zapolyarny Palace. Those walks were nice, you’d like to think he enjoyed them as much as you did. Though you weren’t quite sure he enjoyed the walks for himself, he seemed to always be looking your way. As if there was a view he just couldn’t miss, not even for the dimming world around him.
You, ever unchanging even after so many years. Even if you had chosen to leave this world alongside him, the odds of you changing then were almost close to none. You truly were a constant, the variable he never foresaw. A variable he’d never trade not even for the world.
“I think it’s time we head to your room. I’ll have Eta visit you later, he has a lot of drawings to show you.” Though he didn’t respond, he nodded his head at your words. A smile dawned your expression at that, you needn’t for a response anyway.
Then came the day you had to say goodbye to Zandik, for the last time.
His health began to rapidly decline around a year ago, the segments showed no outward care for the old man’s health, only the status of his being. While you did adore the segments, you couldn’t help but feel a certain type of way at their apathy. It was almost staggering how little they did for Zandik, their own creator, in his time of need. Your spouse was dying, yet not even the versions of himself could bring themselves to care unless there was a new change to observe.
Truly, you loved them. You really did, but right now it was hard to bring yourself around them, especially the younger segments. They were less reserved than their older counterparts, which made their crude comments all the more hurtful. While their efforts to keep quiet when you were around were appreciated, it was blatantly obvious when the room would fall silent when you entered that they were talking about him. Just what plans did they have for his body after he was gone? Did they even care enough to think about that? The thought of burying Zandik made you feel nauseous. Could you even bring yourself to remove his body?
Those thoughts rummaged through your head, burying themselves within the deepest cracks of your mind, all while you walked beside Omega. Your distress may have been too prevalent throughout your walk to Zandik’s room, you really couldn’t hide your pain anymore.
“The option to turn back now would bear no consequences, I will have you aware, █████.” Neither of you stopped, simply slowed the pace of which you walked. His tone was as easy as his words, which sounded far too hard for you to even consider. Much less think about, just how could he say such a thing? “His conscious is hardly there.” “Even so, Zandik still needs me, Omega.” Nothing changed in the segment's expression, his face as unreadable as his intention. Loyalty was a trait of which you wore like a badge and extended to those you cared for so eagerly. Your loyalty or care was not a question. “If that is your decision, my dear.”
Now you were here, by his side as you always had been. He wasn’t awake, he needed as much rest as possible these days. Though he was not awake or could hear your words, his hearing was also one of the many things his decline had tainted, you still spoke. “It’s just... not fair.” then it began, the downpour of your emotions rushing in all at once, like a crashing current forcing you to let it out. The heat to your face and blurring of your eyes were overwhelming, as was the breaking of your heart. Taking ahold of his hand felt nice, despite how brittle and unfamiliar they were now. His hands were the only ones you would ever want to feel in the palm of your own. “...I'm sorry, I’m so sorry-” Apologies came as if they were owed and, in a way, they were, just not from you.
There would be no goodbyes left unsaid. Stories came so naturally through broken cords. The squeezes to his hand were the most you could do to let him know even in his rest that you were here, that you would not leave his side until it was necessary. If only the world had been kinder, then maybe you two would have been happier. The future had never looked so bleak until now.
Unfortunately, by the time you’d return to his room by morning to see him, just one more time. Omega would have already told you he was gone.
Look, I know we're all adults here but I'm going to just come out and say that certain stories should not be made, much less published online.
Fanfiction can touch on sensitive topics, yes. But there is a difference between sensitivity, trauma projection, and fetishes. Now I know we all know the term "If you don't like it then don't read it." But there are some things that you don't even have to read to know that it needs to be taken down.
THIS STORY IS ONE OF THEM!!
A brief skimming over the summary tells you all you need to know. I did in fact read over it and when I tell you it made my skin crawl?
UGH!
While fictional characters can and have been used to help nerds like us overcome our own issues and scars, THIS is a prime example of something that should have stayed in this writer's diary. On top of that the comments are MONITORED so comments opposing this frightening display cannot be shown unless the writer approves.
MINORS DONT EVEN THINK ABOUT INTERACTING!!
If anyone wants to hate me for criticism, be my guess. I don't care if you unfollow me or think that I should have ignored this because I AM NOT. The implications of this tale are appalling at most and utterly putrid at best.
This is the type of free speech that I cannot get behind and no one should read this unless you can relate, you don't mind Alastor especially being a pedo, or some other third thing that really isn't an excuse.
If you know this writer and want to defend them, be my guest. The point is to bring awareness to disturbing content like this and encourage the idea of..Oh, I dunno?
KEEPING SOME THINGS TO OURSELVES!!?
My name is Greeniegirl23 and I approve of this message...
about: after your mother died you moved into your sisters and her husbands house, your mental health only worsened day by day and a certain radio host bothering you quite frequently didn't help much.
↳ before you read: human! Alastor/female reader, no use of y/n, period-typical racism, period-typical sexism, period-typical homophobia, angst/no comfort, manipulation, blood kink, cannibalism, graphic description of corpses, slow burn, demisexual Alastor, stalking, biting, tarot readings, voodoo, strangers to enemies/lovers, they have a love hate relationship, suicide, suicidal thoughts, 1920s New Orleans, the first chapter suck and will be rewritten but the next ones are better.
You didn't need a man in your life; maybe that was one of the many differences with your sister. Sure, you had little crushes throughout your childhood, but at the end of the day you never wanted to settle down with anyone. You already knew how it goes since the start of middle school.
It's not like you weren't loved by your parents; both of them loved you dearly. Your father encouraged your passion for writing from an early age, and your mother taught you the basics on "how to become a woman," at least that was what she called it, yet you could feel something was wrong.
Your parents never kissed nor hugged like other parents did; they never both showed up to your school events—it was always your mother or your father. You never spent time with both of them at the same time; at some point they started sleeping in different rooms. You felt severely delusional and bad about it, as your sister never seemed to notice it.
How could she? Every time glass shattered downstairs, she was deep in her slumber; every time a particularly loud scream or cry came from the kitchen, she was distracted by playing outside with you: hide-and-seek was her favorite game.
You made sure she didn't realize the dark side of your home, because at last your parents put up a front that they loved each other when the guests were over. You cared deeply for Ruth even though she was only 3 years younger than you.
You never stopped caring for her, even when you both hit your teenage years; somehow she still didn't realize the whole mess happening in the house. Your parents started being really careful after someone called the police for child abuse; little did they know that it wasn't the child being abused.
It felt like everything stopped in time when your loved father died, suffering from an infectious disease called Diplococcus pneumoniae. The nights suddenly went all quiet; you could hear the birds chirping and wind knocking against the window. You would've thought that your mother would take it lightly, as she wasn't satisfied with her marriage choice, but how wrong you were.
She distanced herself from the two of you, only "invited" you to hang out when she was in a drunken stage, told you how much she loved you as you were her first child, and vented to you about her problems: that's how you found out about your parents' old problems on a deeper level. It was frustrating how she told you she'd change, drop the bottle, and fix herself up. Unfortunately, you believed her every single time. She was still your mother, wasn't she? You found yourself taking care of the house and cooking; you learned how to pay the taxes as your mother basked in misery and depression.
At some point your sister moved out with her fiancé, now husband. You were happy for her; why wouldn't you be? She invited you to dinner at her house, even multiple times a week, yet you declined every time. You couldn't leave your mother alone, not in her state. You wanted to take care of her; you needed to take care of her.
Your heart shattered into pieces the second time when you found your mother hung herself in her bedroom, wearing one of your father's chemises. You didn't understand why she chose the path that she chose at that time; truth be told, you still didn't. The bedroom was neatly arranged; you could see that she made the effort to tidy it up. On the dresser lay two letters dedicated to you and your sister.
You cried for hours that day, not stopping even when the police came to investigate the situation. That day you packed your bags and moved in with your sister, somehow managing to tell her the tragic event through choked sobs and a shaky voice. Fortunately, she welcomed you with open arms. You decided to focus on your work then, only taking breaks when you couldn't properly function.
Soon enough, Ruth's wedding day hit, and she chose you as one of her bridesmaids. You wish you could memorize this day as one of happy ones, yet this is the day you met him. Angelic eyes, well built, shiny blonde hair—you were easily charmed with him and jumped in the bed with him without a second thought. Oh, how naive you were back then.
After the night he disappeared, leaving you all alone. Leaving you pregnant with an unholy amount of trauma, it turns out he wasn't as angelic as he seemed. Abortion was the only sane choice you made. It's not like you hated children; you just couldn't imagine raising one. What kind of mother would you be when you can't even afford to buy your own house? That day you realized that you didn't want a man in your life; every single man is the same.
You groaned as the sunrays from behind the curtains hit your eyes, instantly rolling to the other side. You blinked once, then twice, then again until you saw the world clearly. You moaned as you stretched, trying to ignore the fact that you have work today and… oh. Right, Mr. Honoré. Fuck.
"Dreaming that he forgot..." You thought to yourself, jumping out of your bed onto the cold floor. Your mirror greeted you with your messy reflection before you chuckled to yourself. 'The meeting would probably be such a flat tire.'
I mean, what does a man like Mr. Honoré have to offer you? A lot, actually.
The morning went smoothly; you got ready faster than usual and got time to delect with your coffee and read the recent news. Hopping onto the trolley, glaring at the man who gave you a dirty look, you arrive at work 10 minutes early to find one of your coworkers already working on opening the restaurant. Sparing them a quick greeting, you put your bag in your locker. You were glad that you weren't alone on your shift today.
Turning on the restaurant's radio hoping for some calming music, you only heard a familiar voice; you turned to another station immediately. As you expected, the other station charmed you with catchy jazz; you hummed while changing the sign to 'open' on the door.
You didn't even realize when most of the day flew by. Your day could be described as peaceful... well, until the bell rang exactly 5 minutes before your shift ended. There stood Mr. Honoré in all his glory. That toothy grin, perfect hair, and a navy blue-ish suit he chose for today. "Mr. Honoré," you said, your tone surprisingly neutral despite the hatred you held for the man before you.
"Darling," He matched your energy for a split second before erupting into an enthusiastic mess of his own. "I hope that you're ready for tonight because tonight is the night that you won't ever forget! Really, you should be grateful that I, my magnificence, chose your...." He prolonged his last word, looking you up and down, before finishing with yet another bright, toothy smile. "Tired yet charming self."
"Is the lady planning to change?" Mr. Honoré looked you up and down once again, not even subtly trying to hide that he is judging you. "That's your work attire, and I don't think you want to embarrass yourself going out with me dressed up like that…"
"Perhaps it's because I still haven't clocked out, Mr. Sherlock Holmes." You declared passively aggressively. However, you knew he was right: you didn't bring any spare clothes with you, completely thinking that the good sir in front of you forgot about the outing. Looking up at him, you felt extremely underdressed and slightly intimidated, even if you would never admit it.
"Well, we must get going now! I made a reservation at the new restaurant that just opened right around the corner! It's a 5-minute walk, but perchance with your tempo it would take us around 15." God. That man is so half-seas over, you'd like to punch him in the face.
"You came here empty-handed, and you expect me to take this outing seriously?" You faked being offended, putting your hand dramatically over your heart, before continuing to mock him. "Mr. Honoré, and here I thought you were a gentleman. Next time I'd like to be met with a bouquet of roses, then maybe I'll try to take it seriously."
"Why, you're right, my cherie! That's not how my dear mother raised me at all; you must forgive me." Every single word laced with malice. You sighed, finally giving in and going to get your stuff, leaving only for a minute. You alerted your coworker that she will have to close the building before walking back to Mr. Honoré, who was already waiting for you near the exit. He opened the door for you, to which you offered him a proper glare; not a word was said between you two until he spoke up once again. Of course he cannot keep his mouth shut for 2 minutes.
It was already dark outside; you hated how eerie New Orleans can be at night. Some of the streetlights are flickering uncannily, leaving you shivering not only from fright but also from the cold: your coat is not doing much to keep you warm. Your mind wandered to the recent news, the Bayou Butcher. You lived in constant fear that maybe you were his next victim. Is there even a pattern to his killings? Does he have a reason, or does he just kill for the thrill of the chase? You looked at Mr. Honoré: he seemed completely unbothered, humming a melody you were not familiar with. You sighed; at least if someone were to attack you, Mr. Honoré would do something to chase them off, you hoped at least; he doesn't look like the type who knows how to fight really well.
"What misfortune! The lady now seems to be shivering in the cold; if only there was a gentleman nearby to lend an article of clothing of his. Mr. Honoré teased, rather too loudly, your head still buzzing from the headache you got at work. His smile is too big and bright for your liking; if only the streets would be busy with cars so you could throw him in front of one.
Mr. Honoré slowly slipped off his coat to wrap it around your figure; you tensed when his fingers made contact with your shoulders. He murmured something about his mother raising him to be a gentleman and to not misunderstand his intentions. The rest of your walk was peaceful—no conversations, no passive-aggressive remarks, just the quiet night streets of New Orleans.
Once you arrived, the sound of jazz hit your ears almost immediately. You were amazed by the interior; this restaurant was nothing like the one you worked in! This one was brand new, with dashing lights, and the jazz wasn't coming from a radio but from a band that was playing on the stage. What kind of fancy restaurant is this? Your lips formed into an O shape as Mr. Honoré guided you further into the building. Surely Mr. Honoré ate in restaurants like this very often; he could afford it. Every single aspect of him screamed, "I am wealthy." You mentally scolded yourself for thinking about his money so much.
Soon enough you were seated in a secluded area, the polite waitress giving you the menu before skedaddling away. "Wow, Mr. Honoré, this is incredibly impressive." You weren't trying to hide your amazement; who wouldn't be impressed by such a thing? You probably wouldn't step a foot in this building if it weren't for him.
"Aw, applesauce! What kind of gentleman would I be if I took a lady to a flat tire?" Mr. Honoré declared proudly, clearly amused by your reaction. "I'm positive that you're honored that I graced you with an opportunity like this," cocky bastard.
You snarled, looking down at your clothes, then at Mr. Honoré, and then at the other guests' attire. God, you felt extremely underdressed. You sighed, picking up the menu before your eyes landed on the terribly expensive prices. You shuffled through it, hoping to find something cheaper yet still to your taste.
"I must say I was surprised when I saw a beautiful woman like yourself still without a ring on your finger." Mr. Honoré started, seemingly staring into your soul as you were still inspecting the menu, trying to ignore the man's gaze. His words were full of mockery.
"Flattery will get you nowhere." You responded as you finally picked the meal that you'd like: nothing special, yet still good. "I could ask the same question to you, Mr. Honoré. Please don't tell me that there's a wife waiting for you at home as you're trying to charm other women."
"Heavens no! I have no interest in a silly thing like romance, my dear." You raised one eyebrow at that; his actions and words didn't exactly go hand in hand. "My mother assumes that I just haven't found the one yet; how she dreams that I'd bring a lady home. It's a pity that I won't ever be able to fulfill her wish."
"Bless her heart." Your back hit the back of the couch. "Wouldn't it be easy, though? Woman practically fall to your feet every day."
"I'm just fulfilling my passion as a radio host; it's not my fault that my magnificent work makes women swoon." Mr. Honoré chuckled to himself, clearly proud and still too cocky for your liking.
"I don't get why your broadcasts are so special; there are plenty of other radio hosts who do their work on the same, if not on a better, level than you." You were playing a thin line, and you know it. You noticed the slight twitch of Mr. Honoré's eye but failed to notice his fists slightly clenching under the table.
"I'm encouraging you to listen to my broadcast tomorrow, then. I'm sure you'll understand." He emphasized almost every word in his sentence. Not wanting to sour the mood, you muttered a quiet agreement, even though you probably wouldn't care to listen to it.
"I imagine you didn't want to become a waitress when you grew up, did you?" Mr. Honoré quickly changed the topic. After a quick consideration, you realized that there's no harm in telling him about your passion.
"I've always wished to publish my own book, maybe two…" You started looking out of the window; it was starting to rain. "However, publishing a book takes time, money, and effort. Not to mention how almost nobody takes it seriously; it's frustrating, and even if I published my book, I would still have to work. I have too many responsibilities to actually take my time with my creation."
"Too many responsibilities?" Mr. Honoré asked with newfound curiosity. Tilting his head slightly, resting his chin on his hands.
"I used to work two jobs; you already know it, given how you met me at your radio station. I've been meaning to move out, out of my sister's husband's home; however, I've been procrastinating for the longest time now. I nearly have enough money; I will be able to move out in about a month or two." You stopped abruptly, realizing that you were already giving too much information for your liking. Your demeanor changed in a second. "I'm a very busy woman, Mr. Honoré. You're a very lucky man that I gave you an ounce of my time."
"Oh, I'm sure I am." He said sarcastically. "Still, you mentioned that you used to work two jobs? So you got fired, meaning that you have fewer responsibilities."
"I quit myself." You lied through your teeth. Just as Mr. Honoré was supposed to start one of his rambles and just as you were about to jump him across the table, the nice waitress came to take your orders.
"Is the lovely couple ready to place the order?" She gave you her best smile despite the tiredness in her eyes. Your eyes widened as Mr. Honoré audibly gagged at the waitress's mistake. You stared at the man in pure shock and offense, disgust written all over his face. Something tells you that you shouldn't meet up with him in the first place.
Tonight you didn't learn anything new. No, scratch that, you've learned that Mr. Honoré was a bigger asshole than you thought he was before. You already knew that Mr. Honoré couldn't shut up about himself.
"So I told that man that he doesn't have to worry about anything important; the only thing I did was replace his pla—" He rambled about really anything that came to his mind before you cut him off.
"Mr. Honoré—" you started, fidgeting with the fork on the already empty, dirty plate.
"Alastor." He corrected.
"What?"
"I'd appreciate it if you'd call me Alastor; Mr. Honoré makes me feel old, and I'm not even in my 40s!" He chuckled as if he were the most hilarious man on the entire planet.
"Well, Alastor. It's getting quite late, and I have a morning shift tomorrow. Besides, I wouldn't like my sister getting worried." You explained. The grimace on your face could be easily read as you looked out of the window to see that the weather only worsened.
"What a pity! And here I was just getting started. I hoped to at least dance with you once tonight, but I presume I'll have to wait until we meet again. Yet I must admit I lost track of time; it flies really fast when you're in the company of a charming gentleman like me!" You not so subtly glared at him as he waved over the waitress for the bill.
"Let me walk you home, my dear." You declined.
You both left shortly after, standing in front of the fancy building. It was already pitch dark outside, the rain echoing itself through the streets of New Orleans. You looked up at Alastor; his cheaters were foggy from the sudden change of temperature. Yet again he seemed unbothered by the weather; before you could turn away, your eyes met.
"Are you sure you don't wish me to walk you home? My mother would be very disappointed in me if I left a lady in distress." Alastor seemingly pulled out an umbrella out of his ass.
"I am not a lady in distress." You gritted your teeth. The last thing you needed was Alastor knowing where you live. You already could imagine how much of a bother he would be then, yet he does have an umbrella, and you surely would be sick if you'd just run to the house in the rain. Still. Being sick sounds wonderful in comparison to the 1st option.
Alastor watched you run-walking in the horrible weather, your hair getting wet in just seconds of being in the rain. He chuckled amused; you were a completely different woman than he imagined. He watched you disappear in the shadow of the night, and shortly after, he followed to his own establishment.
about: after your mother died you moved into your sisters and her husbands house, your mental health only worsened day by day and a certain radio host bothering you quite frequently didn't help much.
↳ before you read: human! Alastor/female reader, no use of y/n, period-typical racism, period-typical sexism, period-typical homophobia, angst/no comfort, manipulation, blood kink, cannibalism, graphic description of corpses, slow burn, demisexual Alastor, stalking, biting, tarot readings, voodoo, strangers to enemies/lovers, they have a love hate relationship, suicide, suicidal thoughts, 1920s New Orleans, the first chapter suck and will be rewritten but the next ones are better.
"Ms.Griffiths, i assure you that we don't have the summers eye special; it was a SUMMER special." You fought the urge to roll your eyes at the woman sitting before you. it was only 1 in the afternoon; the customers have been extra difficult today and you have had enough.
Ms.Griffiths mocked your words and put down her glasses on the table just to pinch her nose. "What nonsense!" She groaned. "I remember ordering it in the summer and you were the young lady who served me; you didn't deny my order back then. Just make me the summers eye and I'll leave satisfied."
"Ma'am we do not have that on our menu anymore." You gritted your teeth, you could hear another table behind your back snapping their fingers at you to gain your attention. "I cannot make you the meal as it was a special. A summer special, a special only made in summer. The name is summers eye, summer."
"Don't give me that attitude young lady!" Ms.Griffiths continued scolding you and being an unsufferable old hag. You excused her as soon as you couldn't bare the snapping fingers behind you. You couldn't remember if the restaurant was always this busy or if you just got lazy because of your 3 days absence. 'Only 7 hours left, only 7 hours left' you kept reminding yourself, as if it would bring you some comfort. Spoiler; it didn't.
Suddenly the bell started ringing in the kitchen, signalling finished dishes to serve. You excused yet another customer just to rush into the kitchen, get scolded by the chef and rush to the customers with your hands full yet again. Sometimes you wondered why you couldn't chose a different job, one that doesn't have to do anything with complaining humans; right, despite everything you didn't have the education you craved. The boss have been extra hard on you after your little "trip" to Anastasias wedding.
You gave your best smile to the polite couple as you served them the meals they ordered. You then rushed again to the party of 5 who were unpolitely snapping their fingers at you. Breathe in, breathe out. Smile. "Good evening again, i apologize for the inconvenience gentleman, are you ready to place your order?"
"The salmon?" The shortest ordered. You muttered a small mhm. The others teased him for ordering a salmon due to his height, something about growing and ego but you couldn't care less.
"I'll get the prix fixe, mix the-" you cut him off, laughing nervously. "Oh im terribly sorry but you can only order the prix fixe if the whole party participates."
"Wha- why?" He scoffed. "Im the only one who wants it, ain't i?"
"I understand however that's just how we do it here, the restaurant's policy. I could risk getting fired and we wouldn't want that, i wouldn't want that." You tried your best to explain the reasoning. Your headache only getting worse every minute you spent in this hell hole. You had enough experience with man like these, they all act high and mighty, smiling all seductively to you, hoping that you'd hop in the sheets with them. Well they clearly come to the wrong place because this isn't some speakeasy.
"It's just dumb. Just make me my prix fixe." The man growled at you. What a spectacular choice of words, so original. This is going to be a long day.
Unfortunately, as you expected at the end of the day your legs were killing you, you were sweating like a dog and all you could dream of was already snoozing in your bed. 'Only 20 minutes left!' You smiled to yourself, cleaning the counter with a wet cloth. The restaurant was empty, you doubted that anyone would come in at this hour, especially after the recent news..
You looked down to see the most recent newspapers sitting comfortably near your purse. Alexandro Wright missing since the seventh of october! Hold your hat real hard since you could be next! A shiver ran down your spine as you read the last sentence. Underneath the recent news there was a sloppy locks advertisement; They must be making a fortune nowadays. You put the cloth down as you fully reached for the newspaper. Just as you were about to open it the bell rang, signaling that someone walked into your workplace.
The sudden noise made you drop the newspaper as you jumped unexpectedly. Soon enough your eyes landed on mr. Honoré who was currently wearing a green, striped pattern fitted vest with a white straight collar shirt and of course his red bow tie. He was stinking of money and perfection, not a hair out off place even though the wind was heavy today.
"We're closed." You hissed through you teeth, clearly done with dealing with people for the day. He ignored your clear annoyance as he walked up to you with a middle sized black box in his hands. The first thing that came to your mind is him trying to bomb you.
"Good evening to you too, my dear." He said with his usual smile that didn't quite match his eyes, placing the black box between you two, just on the newspapers that were now laying on the counter. "Funny, the sign says that you're still open."
"Forgive me mr.Honoré, you may order wherever you're ready" Your voice lacked genuine remorse as you prayed to god for the man to leave you alone.
Alastor clicked his tongue at your reponse. "Well you see, darling, i didn't come here to order anything. I thought that was obvious with my little present for you sitting right here." He said gesturing to the box once again.
"I thought it was a bomb." You declared, clearly unimpressed with the gentleman scheming something before you. A present? Why would he give you a gift? You ain't gonna touch it, what if he put some kind of chemicals on it? What if it's gonna explode later at home? What if it'll release some kind of toxic substances? You're sure that alastor could afford to buy or make such absurd things.
As you were glaring at the box, mr. Honoré took out a neat looking radio from it. It wasn't the newest kind but its wasn't the oldest either. It was made from hard dark wood, it wasn't anything special but you couldn't help to gawk at it in admiration.
Mr. Honoré cleared his throat, clearly demanding your attention. "I couldn't help but be disappointed when you told me that you don't own a radio. Why i couldn't allow you to not listen to my broadcasts, couldn't i?" He chuckled to himself as he pushed the radio in your direction.
"Wh- wha- wow." you uttered like an idiot. You picked the radio up quickly, observing it. Should you thank him? Should you tell him to keep it? Should you tell him to get out if he isn't going to order anything? Should you actually take it? Unbeknownst to you, as you were lost in your thoughts Alastors eyes landed on the newspaper on the counter. "Such tragedies happening these days." You hummed, not completely comprehending what he just said.
"I mean these disappearance are just getting out of hand, wouldn't you say sweetheart?" He continued speaking a bit louder, seemingly glaring into your soul. mr. Honorés fingers tapped impatiently against the newspaper, waiting for you to give him your attention. You coughed into your hand, embarrased about the reaction you gave him, finally snapping out of it. You looked at him with confusion, trying to remember what he said literally a second ago. Your gaze switching between his and the tapping of his fingers that was.. on the newspaper! Right.
You sighed "Of course i mean..." You paused trying to gain your thoughts. "Imagine what kids and wife must go through now, if he has them of course. I imagine the heartache and all the pain they're feeling now." You ran your hands through your hair, a bleeding heart; that's what you had.
"What kind of heartless monster could kill a father, a son and a husband? Its terrible." You looked down at the radio in your hands. Mr. Honoré let out a quiet hum in response.
"You cannot forget that the man is a human being himself too. No matter how important he was to one another, they cannot repent for the sins he has commited throughtout his life." You glanced back at him, wide eyed: considerimg the new perspective he gave you. Nothing changed, his usual wide smile was still there, not a hair out of place.
"I never knew you were that religious mr. Honoré" You chuckled, trying to lighten up the mood. He huffed at your terrible attempt to change the subject. You glanced at the radio one last time, your brows furrowed and you placed the radio in front of mr. Honoré. "I can't take it."
"Its incredibly unprofessional mr. Honoré: spending money on a woman you barely know anything about. Not to mention that these radios aren't cheap at all." You explained. The clock hit 8, only 10 minutes left and you will finally be free.
"Phonus balonus! Then let me get to know you, my dear" Alastor picked up and dropped the wireless onto your hands, his smile strained. You groaned slightly at the weight of the radio in your palms. Just as you were about to decline mr. Honoré unexpectedly rushed out of the door, yelling something about "after work, tommorow, broadcast every monday, wednesday, saturday?" The bell rang signalling that he left the restaurant.
You stared at the door, trying to process what just happened in the short time of 10 minutes. You looked at the cloth you abandoned, the newspaper and most importantly the radio in your hands. How would you even explain it to your sister? 'Im back! Where did i get the radio? Oh the famous radio host just dropped by my work and gave it to me for absolutely no reason. Do i know him? Not really.' Your loud sigh echoed through the empty restaurant.
The rest of the day went smoothly, you finished cleaning the last tables, locked the eating house, rushed to "your" house and was met with the sight of Walter hunched over the living room table, thick notebooks open and many papers spread across the table. He looked distressed. You almost felt bad for him, keyword: almost.
You took a peak at one of the plenty of papers on the table, he was still working on finding out who the bayou butcher is. You hummed, left unsatisfied and quite frankly bored of his pitiful attempts. Your sisters husband worked at the radio station as one of the many broadcasting the recent news that happened in New Orleans, what people didn't know is that he hated his job: he got on the radio with no problem, yet he wished he could investigate crime scenes further and not just talk about the shortened versions on the radio. Just as you were about to walc to the kitchen, walter pointed at the envelope on the dresser: muttering something about todays mail.
Quickly running to your room to drop off your bags and place the radio neatly on your nightstand. You noted to place it somewhere else once you'll tidy up your room. Once you were downstairs again you picked up the envelope, it was from Ruths friend of a friend whom you worked for, your second job aka the delivery job. A few months ago, you desperately looked for a second job for yourself and failed miserably. Fortunately your dear sister told you that her friend of a friend is looking for a third hand and due to the connections you got the job no problem.
You opened the envelope, slightly tearing off the paper. Your eyes widened as you read the big fat words on the middle of the letter. 'Fired?" you screamed in your head, you couldn't let the man in the living room know about your pitiful situation. Your whole body shook with anger as you read every single word on the paper. 'Surely its a misunderstanding' You rubbed your eyes, re-reading it for the third time.
Great. You got a headache. You crumbled the paper and threw it into the trash. Everything is happening so fast, Humiliation at the wedding, Anastasia probably hates you now, Getting fired, a man annoying you who somehow knew where you work that. Wait... How did mr.Honoré know where you work at? It's not like you told him. You moved to the fridge, opening it just to be met with a note left for you on a plastic container.
'Don't forget to eat dinner, i left to get my hair done.
Ruth ;)'
You slightly smiled to yourself, how you loved your sister dearly. Soon enough you were heating up the food that your sister made. "The restaurant is quite popular, im sure he just saw me working there." You convincted yourself.
Pheraps its better to now question the strange man? Then it hit you that mr. Honoré will pick you up tommorow after work. You groaned, hoping that he'll forget.
like mother like child - human! Alastor/fem! Reader
about: after your mother died you moved into your sisters and her husbands house, your mental health only worsened day by day and a certain radio host bothering you quite frequently didn't help much.
about: after your mother died you moved into your sisters and her husbands house, your mental health only worsened day by day and a certain radio host bothering you quite frequently didn't help much.
↳ before you read: human! Alastor/female reader, no use of y/n, period-typical racism, period-typical sexism, period-typical homophobia, angst/no comfort, manipulation, blood kink, cannibalism, graphic description of corpses, slow burn, demisexual Alastor, stalking, biting, tarot readings, voodoo, strangers to enemies/lovers, they have a love hate relationship, suicide, suicidal thoughts, 1920s New Orleans, the first chapter suck and will be rewritten but the next ones are better.
Careful glass clinking echoed itself through the ballroom. Everyone's eyes landed on the bride's brother who seemed really confident in his ability to speak up publicly, even though he's supposed to say only one sentence. Your confidence didn't radiant like it did from him, you were sweating your ass off; however you had to do it for your dearest friend. You promised yourself and Anastasia that you'd raise a glass in their honour. You will not disappoint her.
"Alright alright please give it up for the maid of honour!" He gave everyone your full name, you stood up absurdly fast, trying to brush your embarrassed and anxiety to the side, you started your toast.
"A toast to the bride!" You declared with fake confidence, holding up your glass. You looked at Anastasia who wore a beautiful princess wedding dress on her special day, clearly she was pampered by her now husband. You gave her your best smile before moving your gaze to her man.
"To the groom!" You said with a much less energy than before, yet not as noticeable. William wore a luxurious black suit with a green tie, as much as you loved the color green wasn't it improper to wear a green tie on your wedding? You quickly snapped out of it as you continued your monologue.
"From your bestest of friends" You put a hand on your heart, returning your gaze to Anastasia with a smile. You tried to ignore how some of the guests glared at you, clearly from Anastasias husbands side; the more wealthy one. "Whom will always be by your side."
"To your business" You declared referring to Williams business, yet not even daring to look at him. You pointed the glass a little higher, slowly growing more confident. "In the hopes that you provide for your wife!"
"And may you always be satisfied" You ended your short toast, that was supposted to be a lot more longer, with a smile. As you sat down a series of applause erupted from the guests as well as the now married couple.
The ceremony went smoothly; you wish you could say that the wedding reception went as good. After you raised your glass the first dance started, you watched Anastasia and William performing a beautiful, even touching dance for some as you saw a few people tearing up. You recognized that one of them was Anastasias mother, she never really liked you. You hoped that she wouldn't try anything to humiliate you and suprise suprise she didn't! She didn't dare to ruin the day for her daughter and you were forever grateful for that.
To your shock the one who humiliated you was the groom, you didnt know if he meant it however knowing Williams sick nature he did and planned it out perfectly. You stood near the table full of desserts casually chatting with a friend of a friend until Anastasia approached.
"im so glad that the weather matches the mood of the wedding, look at everyone! im unbelievably satisfied with how the wedding is going" she said standing next to you, gesturing at the happy faces of her guest. You nodded with a smile as a response.
"The cake was amazing! Loved the caramel flavour." You watched as she helped herself with cupcakes you made, you remember spending an awful amount of time baking them. You wanted them to be perfect, you weren't the best at cooking but baking was definitely your thing.
"Oh so you're just here for the cake?" She acted offended, obviously joking. Her words slightly distorted as she was chewing the sweet treat. "I'll remember that, once you will get married i will come to your wedding just for the cake as well."
"Well that's not going to be soon, ain't it?" William chimed in, pulling Anastasia by the waist. She just laughed him off, clearly thinking that he's the most hilarious man on earth. Anastasias husband seeing your face going through five stages of shock decided to explain his reasoning. "Well your past relationship wasn't exactly your dream one, like the one in your silly little book you're writing."
You gritted your teeth, still not wanting to ruin anything for Anastasia. How dare he ridicule you like that? how dare he ridicule your passion like that. A sudden realization then hit you, how does he know about your past relationship?
"Nastia? Really you told me that it would stay between us." You slightly raised your voice, genuinely upset at her. By the corner of your eye you could see some of the guests glaring at you with no shame whatsoever. You cleared your throat, feeling your cheeks slightly redden out of embarrassment.
You continued whisper-yelling, the hurt in your voice was evident ."You weren't supposed to tell a soul about this."
"Ah, well you know how it is." She leaned over so she could whisper in your ear like a child. "William and i went to a speakeasy and i have to admit i got a little bit drunk, you know that im sorry right? You know i wouldn't do anything like that sober. Remember the pinky promise we made when we were a kid?"
You know you could be mad at Anastasias sweet face so long. Anastasia was always the sweet kid, always getting away with everything and with her being your friend you could taste a bit of the special treatment she was getting. You sighed, running a hand through your hair. "I just wish you would've told me earlier. Don't you thin-"
"Why do you seem so offended? You almost sound like you are jealous of your best friend being married before you."
Oh no he didn't.
"Considering that she's younger that's all" William added. You were seeing red, not only did he mention your past relationship but now he was accusing you of being jealous? Why would you be jealous? You already krew that William wasn't the smartest man on earth, in fact you could call him stupid. Is it so crazy that a woman wants to be independent? Is it so unbelievably shocking that a woman doesn't need a relationship to properly function?
"I'm afraid this conversation doesn't include you mr. Brown." You, not so secretly, glared at William. You had so much on your mind you genuinely didn't know where to start. I guess that you were staring at your friend's husband long enough that Anastasia started to think that William caught you red handed. She looked at you with her innocent eyes that screamed 'are you?'
"Wha- Anastasia listen to me and not to this imbecile of a man."
"Watch your tongue when your speaking about my husband!" She raised her voice, causing even more guests to look over at the commotion. "Why should i listen you?! You left me here, i had no one. Then William appeared in my life, i felt like i was truly happy again; i will not tolerate you talking badly about his surname. For your information I am the one who now wields it. Anastasia Brown, doesn't that sound just dreamy?" she stopped, taking a break to look at her husband. "You left me. You moved away to New Orleans, you pinky-promised me that you would never leave me."
"I never left you! I still wrote to you, always thought about how you are doing!"
"Oh like you couldn't visit me and had to write. I wouldn't be suprised if you're actually jealous of me, always the bridesmaid never the bride, am i right? As you had to suffer watching me get married and your sister earlier. Your poor heart is probably aching for affection." She mocked you right in front of everyone.
"Do you even hear yourself? That sounds nothing like the Anastasia i know." You voice broke at the end, making you sound just pathetic. How could she say this? This sounds nothing like the Anastasia you knew, your dearest friend, always so polite and cheerful, always knowing just the way to make you feel better, always by your side.
"Haha, breaking news people change." She laughed sarcastically, saying your name at the end of the sentence. Her words didn't quite match the look in her eyes, you knew she didn't mean it. You hoped she didn't mean it. "Would you like me to escort you out of the wedding or can you do it yourself?"
You called her name, trying to get a hold of her hand but her husband stopped you. You heard a small "Leave, please.." from her before turning your back wanting to rush out of the wedding reception. Many eyes followed you, staring right into your soul as you tried to squeeze through the crowd. Suddently you felt as breathing was a difficult thing to do, you started slowing down before you collapsed onto the floor that slowly started to feel like a black void sucking you in.
You wake up.
You could hear your heels echoing through the busy streets of New Orleans as you made your way to your destination. The flower shop. After you woke up sweating from the nightmare you had, you realized that you had to apologize to Anastasia. She already said she doesn't appreciate your letters so why not add flowers to loosen the atmosphere? The real problem is needing to choose the right flowers for them to look pleasant yet not necessarily mean romantic. You couldn't gift her roses, no.. people would think that you're a homosexual, you didn't dare to ruin your reputation by a silly mistake. Tulips were too basic and Anastasia doesn't like lavender.. Oh! You reached your destination.
The bell rang as you stepped into the florist shop. After uttering a polite greeting you started looking around for the right type of flower. For a second you considered asking the lady behind the counter for help but you were scared that she'd think badly of you. After all its not everyday you see a woman buy flowers for another woman, the news would spread around town quickly. You couldn't take the risk.
"Does the charming lady need some help?" You were ready to decline the help, but to your suprise it wasn't the worker asking you it was mr. Honoré. Huh, you started pondering if he would share the same opinion as the lady behind the counter.
"mr. Honoré? I wasn't expecting to see your face here." You had to look up at him due to him being freakishly tall, fortunately for you he quickly bend over to your height.
"Well yes, i decided to drop by the florist shop to buy flowers for my wise mother." He declared, putting a hand over his heart as he mentioned his mother. "However i cannot ignore a lady in distress, what is troubling you?"
You sighed, still not knowing if you should share the story with him. Despite him constantly bugging you in places you don't expect him to be; he was still a total stranger to you. You turned your gaze to the beautiful dafodils before you, touching their leaves softly.
"Hypothetically speaking, if someone were to ruin their friends wedding; making them totally mad at you and leaving you guilty. What kind of flowers do you buy them as an apology mr.Honoré?" you said now fully focusing on the flower you picked up from a pot, you didn't want to look at him. You heard an amused hum from the man standing next to you.
"Crashing a wedding? You're full of suprises my dear." He chuckled to himself after seeing your bashed expression.
"I said hypothetically speaking." You gritted through your teeth. Abandoning the gorgeous dafodils you turned your gaze to the hyacinth behind it. carefully inspecting the purple flower, glaring at it like it would start speaking to you telling you to pick it. "Forget it, if you don't want to help then you shouldn't ask in the first place."
"Well for example that purple hyacinth you're holding represents sorrow, regret and also desire for forgiveness." He flexed, snatching the flower from your hand just to play with it right before your eyes "If you're really desperate for this someone to forgive you and you truly regret your actions then this beauty is the right choice."
"Also in Greek mythology, the hyacinth was linked to the god Apollon and the tragic death of the beautiful youth Hyacinthus, leading to meanings of loss and remembrance." You started babling without thinking, quickly clearing your throat to compose yourself. "Do you have any other recommendations mr. Honoré?"
Mr. Honoré opted for ignoring your little monologue, moving on for the next flower next to him. "Zinnias represent thoughts of absent friends however white roses new beginnings and for some innocence." He was now dragging you all around the small flower shop, not daring to slow down. "Baby's breath symbolise faith, chrysanthemums are a traditional symbol of friendship in many cultures, representing kindness and a long-lasting connection. However the flower i believe you are searching for are white tulips that symbolise purity and are ideal for expressing a fresh start and a genuine remorse. Are you keeping up dear? Of course you are, why wouldn't you?"
He didnt even give you a chance to respond. After 15 minutes that felt like an eternity, you chose flowers for your bouquet or more like mr. Honoré chose them for you.. the bouquet he chose terribly expensive, you didn't know how to tell him that you cannot afford it without embarrassing yourself. To your suprise mr. Honoré paid for you! You already started imagining your misfortunate in the future when he'll want you to pay back.
You left the flower shop with a beautiful bouquet that included white roses, blue hyacinths, pink orchids and Ivy flowers and also a brunette with his own bouquet of pink and white carnations with some flowers you dont know the name of. You cant lie, you found his knowledge of flower language quite impressive. After a while you were confused why Alastor was still following you, is there anything more he wants?
"Mr. Honoré as much as i appreciated your help i already thanked you multiple times. Are you expecting a kiss on the cheek? Because you will not receive one, definitely not from me." You asked sarcastically. Amused by the way mr. Honoré face crunched up in displeasure at your sassy remark.
"I must apologise, it seems i got lost in my thoughts dearest." He started, gesturing the best he can with only one hand available. "Why i was thinking about my tomorrow's radio show, you must watch it im sure you'll like it. Oh but who am i kidding! you probably listen to me every week like my grea-"
"I don't own a radio." You turned your back to alastor now starting to walk in the direction of the post office. "Now if you'll excuse me monsieur I have to get going now."
You failed to notice the flabbergasted expression on mr. Honorés face. You were done dealing with assholes for the weak; although you must admit that mr. Honoré was suspiciously polite today. You knew that he wants something for you, he bugged your sister the same way but after realizing that she won't budge he seemingly gave up. 'now i just made him seem like a philanderer' you thought, sighing. As annoying as the thoughts are you must admit that mr. Honoré is quite the lady-killer.
Next stop: Post office, unfortunately your body was too tired to properly function so halfway on your way to the post you dropped the idea of writing a letter. Anastasia didn't appreciate them, so what's the point?
"D eeee pest apoloo gie ss" you murmured to yourself while writing a small card that was attached to the bouquet of flowers. After struggling and waiting in the line what seemed like forever you mailed the flowers, unfortunately you had to pay extra for the fastest delivery as you didnt want the flowers to wither.
After you left the post office you got reminded how mundane your life will be after a car splashed water all over your new skirt. You groaned in frustration knowing well that you won't have a good night sleep yet again, as you'll probably come home late. You weren't satisfied with todays day.
about: after your mother died you moved into your sisters and her husbands house, your mental health only worsened day by day and a certain radio host bothering you quite frequently didn't help much.
↳ before you read: human! Alastor/female reader, no use of y/n, period-typical racism, period-typical sexism, period-typical homophobia, angst/no comfort, manipulation, blood kink, cannibalism, graphic description of corpses, slow burn, demisexual Alastor, stalking, biting, tarot readings, voodoo, strangers to enemies/lovers, they have a love hate relationship, suicide, suicidal thoughts, 1920s New Orleans, the first chapter suck and will be rewritten but the next ones are better.
chapters: [read on AO3]
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❥・・ ┈┈┈┈┈༚༅༚˳ . ୨୧ . ˳༚༅༚┈┈┈┈ ・・❥
Looking out of the window, you admire the blurry scenery of a forest, hoping that it will further inspire you to continue your writing. The train would occasionally jump, causing you to lose your train of thoughts. Biting your lip in frustration, you stared at the blank page before you. You were in the middle of writing the schedule of events for your book, but suddenly your brain gave up. Was it because of the unfortunate events at your childhood friend's wedding?
It baffled you how the groom humiliated you in front of everyone; he had absolutely no respect for you nor his now wife. You clenched your notebook a bit harder from just thinking about it. You didn't understand how Anastasia could marry such a moron. Sure, he was wealthy, but she never was the type of person to go after money.
You sighed, deciding to stop dwelling on it. 'As long as she's happy,' you thought. You have bigger problems right now than some unmannerly asshole. for example, having to go back to work. You should've expected that you wouldn't be satisfied with the amount of days off; you're now even more exhausted than before. Being a bridesmaid is not for the weak.
Sensing that the train will reach your destination, you shoved your notebook into your purse, picked up the baggage, and shuffled out of your compartment. "Sorry," you muttered as you bumped into a person that seemingly was getting off at this station too. Not particularly caring to hear the response, you walked to the door, waiting patiently for the man in front of you to open it once the train stops. Soon enough you got off the train; luck was not on your side today as you bumped into the same person again.
"This time the lady looked up to be graced by a handsome face before her shimmering eyes." The male before you declared rather loudly, too loud for your liking. Have you heard this voice somewhere before? "This time, however, she did not utter an apology."
You fake-laughed at the brunette's theatrical performance. Too tired to indulge in his stupid theatrics, you brushed past him with a slight polite smile, hoping that he'll leave you alone, as any normal person would. Wasn't he just standing behind you? Unfortunately, your calculations were wrong; the polite smile and the seemingly uninterested look in your eyes did nothing to keep the strange man away.
"I must apologize, dear; that was not very gentlemanly of me now, was it?" he said, quickly catching up to you. You now noted that the male was freakishly tall. "My mother always said that first impressions are really important; however, this one didn't seem to land the way I wanted it to-"
"Apologies accepted," you cut him off, recognizing who the man is. You stopped in your tracks just to face him. "And you know that it's not our first time talking. I'm in a hurry. Is there anything you want to achieve by this conversation, Mr. Honoré?"
"Oh! So you do recognize me, and here I thought my efforts would go to waste." He chuckled to himself. You mentally added avoiding Alastor Honoré whilst delivering packages to your sister's husband's workplace. "Why, my dear, I just wanted to say hello. Such a pleasant coincidence that we ran into each other like this! Let me help you with your baggage."
"All pleasantries are on your side clearly," you muttered to yourself, earning an exaggerated hum from Mr. Honoré.
"Oh my! Please excuse me; as I said before, I'm in a terrible rush." You faked a gasp and tried to look worried. You waved quickly to the male, turned your back, and started speed walking as quickly as you could. 'What an annoyance,' you thought. Truth be told, you didn't mind Mr. Honoré's company that much. Yes, his tone was slightly too loud for your liking; yes, he often overwhelmed you; and yes, you don't know what he wants from you, yet today you were not in the mood for his silly games.
After making sure that the psycho isn't following you, you slowed down. You were lying; you're not in a rush at all. You're just in a sour mood today, that's all. Slowly walking to your sister's house, you pondered if her husband is home.
Due to your house burning down unexpectedly, you were left homeless; your loving sister told you that you can stay in her and her husband's home. That was 3 years ago, and you still haven't moved. You sighed. It wasn't that easy; you were already working two jobs at once plus working on your book, and you hardly got any good night's sleep. It was truly a miracle that you were able to get 3 days off from both jobs to go to Anastasia's wedding. Every day couples come and go in your restaurant; every day you see married couples. Hell, you live with a married couple. Wouldn't it be nice to have someone that you could trust with all your heart? That's the question that you would ask yourself during your teenage years of living. Now you found peace in your quiet lifestyle.
You snapped out of your thoughts when a familiar building caught your eyes. Quickly stepping on the front porch and walking in through the front door, you could finally breathe in peace without anyone judging you, or so you thought.
"You look terrible. Did you get run over by a trolley on your way here?" Walter, your sister's husband, snickered. Choosing to ignore him was the safest option, so you opted for it. You and he never were on the same page, even though you often came by his workplace at the radio station to deliver "important packages" from your sister, as she said.
You dropped your baggage in the living room and made quick work of going to the kitchen just to be blessed by the sight of your sister. You quickly hugged her from behind as she let out an excited squeal in return.
"Welcome back! I missed you." Ruth turned around to properly hug you. Suddenly she reached out for her wooden spoon that was in the soup she was cooking and pushed it into your mouth. "How is it? Too salty? Too spicy?"
"Too hot!" You groaned, reaching for the milk in the fridge. Your sister just laughed in return. "well i will not occupy you anymore, go and rest upstairs" You gave her a knowing relieved look before struggling with your baggage upstairs.
Locking the door behind you, you groaned hopping on your bed. The baggage will not unpack itself, you knew it, you were not stupid. However a quick nap won't hurt anyone, right? You laid yourself properly on your bed, not caring to change your clothes. 'Sweet dream' you thought to yourself, little did you know that they weren't going to be as sweet as you imagined.
Be respectful! If you'll request something let it be known that im a slow writer and dont get mad 🥹
also very low chance of me writing requested smut since im not very experienced in writing that type of stuff. One has to get accustomed ykwim?
I write only fem or gn reader!
I will not write:
minor x adult, weird kinks such as watersports, ageplay, scat, etc. yandere is not my thing, gore, kid reader, parental figure character, more weird shit idk
other than that i think we're good, feel free to ask if i write anything that i haven't mentioned here!🫶
