Alastor

You had one job: to play your role flawlessly, and it was something he always praised you for. It never failed to make your heart flutter with giddy excitement. It almost made your heart skip a beat, knowing you could make him proud, hearing him sing praises after your wonderful performance. After all, who could play the part of a delicate, pretty thing—seemingly defenseless and docile—better than you?

All you had to do was flash a pretty smile, flutter your lashes, and whisper sweet nothings—it was that simple. People were so easily swayed, especially the ones too blind to see through your facade. And for those who weren't fooled, well, you had your ways of persuasion. Yet, sometimes they were always so grabby, their words nauseatingly unsweet, yet predictable in their desires. But you and he had preferred the ones with no background, the forgettable ones, easily discarded and never missed.

The moon hung high in the night sky, and the stars twinkled above just barely. You walked down the worn-down path on the urban side of town. The sounds of the bustling city faded into the background, leaving only the rustling of trees and the chorus of crickets chirping, accompanied by the loud singing of frogs. Glancing up, you noticed one of the streetlights flickering sporadically, casting occasional pools of light on the pavement below. These pools illuminated patches of cracked concrete and overgrown grass, creating a stark contrast against the darkness that enveloped the surrounding area.

You expressed your gratitude for allowing "such a kind person" to accompany you home. The burly individual waved you off, their grip on your waist tightening, causing a subtle strain to your smile. You continued to play the role of someone in need of protection, unaware of the potential dangers lurking in the dark. As if you really needed it, knowing he was always there for you, ready to respond at your beck and call if you so desired.

Your breath hitched as you smelled their alcohol-laden breath tickling your neck, sending unpleasant shivers down your spine. Despite your repulsion, you maintained the charade, laughing and engaging in flirtatious banter with the individual. After all, you knew you needed to do this for him—to charm them, to lure them in. Closing your eyes, you pushed away the disgust, imagining it was their touch instead of this repulsive stranger's, all while keeping up the facade of a vulnerable individual in need of assistance.

As you reached your front porch, your hand hovering over the doorknob, you were suddenly pinned against the door, caught off guard by the forceful action. Their hands were all over you, their touch invasive and suffocating. Panic surged through you as you struggled against their grasp, the weight of their body pressing you against the unforgiving wood.

Their voice invaded your ears, dripping with sick desire, whispering things that made your skin crawl and caused your stomach to churn. It was disgusting, repulsive, and every fiber of your being recoiled in their presence. You wanted to flee, their hands attempting to tear off your clothing. Your smile tightened as you suddenly caught a familiar glimmer of someone's eyes, those wild eyes behind a pair of glasses, his smile—the one you loved so dearly. His finger hovered over his lips, a gesture to stay put and quiet.

Before the individual could go any further, a sudden, swift motion disrupted their advances. Alastor intervened, his gloved hand gripping their jaw, forcing their head back to expose their throat. Blood rushed to the surface as Alastor drew his hunting knife across the stranger's throat, causing them to choke on their own blood, gurgling as it spilled from their mouth. Within seconds, they were dead, and Alastor shoved their lifeless body aside.

Letting out a satisfied hum, Alastor turned his attention to you, his grin widening as he approached. "Ah, wonderful performance as always! I'm quite proud of you, my dear, although a bit unexpected. I didn't think they would dare touch you with their filthy hands, especially right on our front porch. My apologies, my love. Are you alright?" he inquired, his eyes narrowing as he noticed the blood on your lips.

It seemed some blood had gotten on you; alas, it was a sloppy kill on his part, something he didn't like. Perhaps next the hunt, he would do better. Taking a step forward, being your loving husband he was, he knew he'd have to clean it right off. Leaning in, his gloved hand tilted your chin up to him, his tongue wiping the blood from your lips. Stepping back to admire your face, he lets out a soft chuckle, loving your reaction, looking satisfied with himself. "Darling, did I ever tell you how divine you look in red?" He mused aloud, licking his lips, remembering the way the blood mingled on your lips, how it tasted utterly delicious.