Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Ever since he was a child, Alastor always loved to be the center of attention. He absolutely adored being showered with praise, compliments, and gifts. His mother always told him that he was special, a one-of-a-kind soul that was destined for great things, things that would contribute to an entertaining future with various exotic outcomes.

He fascinated those with sharp ears with his charming singing, his dancing claimed the eyes of curious ones and his charismatic cheerful demeanor charmed anyone that crossed his path. Lessons he got from both his parents, lessons he gladly took to heart, growing with him to his adult life. Alastor has it all. A loving mother, a successful radio station, money, the thrill of the hunt, knowledge of the dark arts, intelligence, and looks. The only thing he is grateful that he acquired from his father was a mutual love for radio and music.

Ah, yes. He remembers when his father had given him his first radio as a gift, the clear intention of buying his forgiveness after abandoning him and his mother. He only stared sweetly at him, a smile so pure and innocent that perfectly masked an unadulterated hatred and perversion when he stretched his little arms to gladly accept the thing that would catapult him into a life of success. Amidst such glee, he did not fail to notice how his mother’s eyes sparkled with love and affection when the ungallant man walked in through the same door he had walked out so countless times. 

He had lost count of how much he had fallen asleep with their fights and insults before the gift came to his hands. From his mother crying and begging him not to leave, to his father’s exasperated cursing and snarky remarks. But, never in their marriage, physical violence took place. No. His parents never crossed that line. 

Alastor knew that his father did not regret marrying his mother, even with how people openly opposed mixed ethnic couples. And he was aware that his father did not feel fulfilled with one woman only, regardless of skin color or background. Did it hurt him? Yes. But only because it hurt his mother. Alastor got over his father when he got tired of waiting for him. Precisely at age of 7. From that day, he would stay by his mother’s side no matter what. He’d console, and entertain her with his singing, cooking, and offering her his little shoulder to cry on. 

In return, she gave everything a mother could. Food, discipline, proper etiquette, unconditional love, and preparation to live in a challenging world. She had made sure he was prepared to leave the nest as an independent man, ready to disclose to the world his vehement charming talent. Yes. To mother, Alastor is the perfect man. Someone who will fulfill his dreams, make her proud, and hopefully extend the family, a grandchild she desires to have in her life. To her, the ultimate happiness would have a mini Alastor, to love and take care of, just like she had done with him. Unfortunately, that is the only thing her beloved son will not give her. The world he might give it, but a grandchild…no.

Alastor smiled, humming melodiously to himself as he kept shoveling the dirt aside. A trail of sweat ran down his left temple, pooling at his chin, before falling down. He had his sleeves rolled up, exposing his forearms, muscles flexing as he kept digging deeper. He threw the shovel over, planting his gloved hands firmly on the ground, hoisting himself out of the freshly dug hole. Alastor bent down, grabbed the shovel, and stuck it in the pile of dirt with a sighing soft grunt, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand, causing his bangs to become tousled, giving them an untamed appearance. He moved towards a dirty-looking bed sheet, kneeling down beside it. His finger grazed the edges, unraveling a true beauty hidden under the fabric.

He tilted his head, his eyes holding nothing more than adoration as he caressed the high cheekbones of his latest victim. The man’s post-mortem pale face, forever sealed in an eternal slumber after serving his purpose. A calculated choice, a nice prattle, and a bit of his talent were just enough to lure this poor fop to his inevitable demise. 

Alastor chuckled, eyebrows raising and pulling together, and eyes slightly squinting while a smile stretched on his lips. This one proved to be as entertaining as the others, his ritual fruitful and lively, indeed very productive. So far, only unmatched by the dark-skinned beauty that had shared a dance with him months ago. He had made sure to give her a proper burial, with a dark red rose in what was supposed to be her heart. Ah, yes. That little doll was something else. One for history. So much so that she rests near his father’s old bones.

The air was heavy and humid. The thick fog, a perfect veil, secured him in a safe embrace. Sweat dripped from his brow, and flies began to approach, buzzing over the corpse’s face. The tiny black bodies were frantic, jockeying for position as Alastor waved his hand. He covered the man’s face, tying a knot around his neck, before grabbing him by his feet and dragging the corpse to the grave with a low grunt. He managed to put him inside his final resting place, grabbing his shovel and proceeding to bury his crime and erase any traces left behind.

Alastor sighed, ignoring how his dark brownish pants and white shirt were all smudged with dirt and sweat. He grabbed the shovel, picked up his waistcoat that hung on a nearby branch, and made his way towards his car, opening the trunk, and throwing the dirty shovel in, before getting into his car and driving towards the cabin that awaited him miles away from his location. Alastor sighed deeply, satisfying swelling in his chest, as the night fell. His dirty gloves stained the steering wheel, but he did not care. He loved to wash the remaining evidence after a great hunt and put in his trophy case the war spoils.

The humming of a lullaby gradually grew into a full jovial song, his fingers tapping on the steering wheel at his tempo, his body lightly swinging in the confined space of his seat. He was energetic, ecstatic to be precise, and he couldn’t wait to reach his safe haven. Where he would drain all that energy with a nice meal, a cup of strong plain black coffee, and a nice book reading with a little jazz playing on his first radio. Of course, all of that would be done after he washed his car and clothes. Alastor was a very observant and careful man, and he could not afford the luxury of letting such incriminatory details slip between his fingers. Not even the smallest details elude him much less the ones that would end his life immediately. His mother would be heartbroken if anything happened to him. 

According to his mother, Alastor grew up to be a role model to follow. However, she was unaware of what her beloved son was up to. In his head, he was doing what he had to do. He had a moral code he followed to the heart, which meant he did not go after anyone. His motifs are far too elaborate for the simplest minds to even try to understand. He finds it entertaining, laughing heartily at the pitiful attempts at how the investigators and newspapers try their best to solve the string of murders occurring in the area. From how some bodies were found and the state they were in, to the various different locations. 

Nonetheless, Alastor kept those he had enjoyed the most and deemed a bigger purpose to his rituals in his favorite deer hunting ground spot. Broadcasting them in an important segment on his radio as missing persons, giving hope to the loved ones that wished to search for their family members. It had boosted his fame even beyond the expectations of his competitors. The secret? Alastor is really good with words and gaining others' trust. And he cannot wait to go back to the city, to his radio station where his beloved faithful listeners are dying to greet him into their household with charm, care, and entertainment. Dying to know about the latest news of the murders and disappearances that have been increasing quite impressively.

Oh, this is life indeed.

A week after his return from the isolated hunting cabin, Alastor was itching for a new form of entertainment. He had finished his schedule for today, leaving his co-workers to finish for him as he decided to take a stroll on the street. Again he was basked in glorious compliments. Anywhere he went people greeted him and praised his work. Particularly how he tackled the missing person cases, insisting on people never forgetting, purposely putting more pressure on the police workforce. 

Alastor made sure that every time he left the radio station, he’d publicly assume a journalist role, so he could gather the latest news about the recent murders. Waiting until rumors started to sprout, the laughable paranoia consumed the locals excessively, which contributed to a slight rise in crime until he made his grand entrance. From it, all Alastor had to do was to put on a show, using small purposely spoiled notes from his personal diary that he kept securely hidden from prying eyes, so it could be presented to the hungry listeners. So that he can manipulate the situation to his advantage.

But, today he particularly craved some personal entertainment. A nice stroll in the park, followed by a delicious meal, and to conclude his evening, a good hop will allow him to unwind. That would do the trick. Alastor felt a particular pride in being well-known to be a very skilled hoofer. Invitations to dance would stack up the moment he stepped into the nightclub. He’d always be delighted in dancing with women whom he found the most charming and engaging. 

Adjusting his bow tie, Alastor brought up his pocket watch, checking the hours as he continued strolling down the street. Tomorrow he will pay a visit to his mother. His stomach hungers for her cooking, his ears yearn to hear her soft motherly voice, and his face misses the affectionate pinches she gave. Speaking of food, he dearly misses her jambalaya. No one cooks it better than her, not even his deceased maternal grandfather.  

Alastor shoved the watch back into the pocket, keeping his chin up, walking leisurely towards the park, brown eyes attentively taking in every detail of the approaching night. The streets were full of life, jazz music and voices enchanted the streets, blessing his ear canal, and varied greetings from glamorous flirtatious winks to recognition boosted his mood to an astronomical level.

Sighing deeply, Alastor put his arms behind his back, greeting people who crossed his path with a soft smile present on his lips. Another lesson his mother had taught him was to always use it when interacting with others. In that regard, many used the smile to project their contentment and satisfaction, however, Alastor did it not only to convey both happiness and displeasure but as well as a form of intimidation.  

A foolproof rewarding technique.

Walking deeper through the park, chocolate eyes caught a hooded silhouette near the beautiful pond. He stopped in his tracks, blinking slowly, studying the stilled person that insisted on continuing to look at the water. His arms slipped from his back, and the smile he always had slowly faded while trained eyes instantly caught a gloomy figure standing near the trees, using the growing night as a shroud to stay hidden.

‘Rookie .’ Alastor thought amusingly, as he watched the imminent danger growing by the second on the unsuspected soul. He licked his dry lips expectantly, the thrill settling in the pit of his stomach, clenching his fists as a form to shoo away the tickling eagerness that began spreading from the tips of his fingers to his arm.

The atmosphere lingering around told Alastor that whatever was about to happen was not good. No need to be a genius to realize what is about to happen. And he knows it better than anyone. He, himself, does the same when choosing a victim, however, he not only does it with class but he is literally a ghost when doing it. That is why he gets away so easily with his murders.

Oh, how interesting this announcement would be during his morning news. A lot of listeners would tune in just to hear his charming voice announcing the sloppy butchering in one of the park's most favorite ponds. But why not ruin the other’s chances? It would certainly be funny. A tale he could entertain himself after tormenting such a vague numbskull who clearly failed to notice him standing there.

Tapping his chin with his index finger and calculating the distance, Alastor concluded that whoever was hiding could attack and leave before he had the chance to act and prevent the incident. Pursing his lips, the young man adjusted his glasses and made his way toward the pond with soft steps. The tips of his long black coat swung from side to side with gracious confident movements, his mind humming a dangerous song, one he always did when approaching his hunt.  

Alastor pushed forward, his smile growing in mockery to the hidden halfwit, noticing the shadowed figure jolting in shock when he knowingly winked. The shadow nervously retreated. The escape will certainly leave tracks to be followed, and he’d gladly use his magnificent tracking abilities to have a little chat. 

Alastor squared his shoulders, puffing out his chest, feeling it swelling with pride after saving the life of this absent-minded foolish stranger. A quick nervous motion of the stranger's head showed him that his presence was finally acknowledged. Being this distracted would bring huge consequences. For starters, this marvelous pond would be the stage of a recent unfortunate murder, if he did not intervene. Which is a shame since it’s well-liked among the locals, and himself.

Putting his hands behind his back, he cleared his throat before closing and reopening his eyes. A gentle blow of the wind caused gentle ripples in the water, making their reflection dance. The stranger slowly turned to face him. A look of confusion settled in. Delicate eyebrows knitted together, eyes slightly narrowed and lips parted as trying to express the churning thoughts that scrambled together.

“Good evening madam.” Alastor greeted the young woman with charm and politeness dripping from his voice, only to be taken back by getting nothing more than a strong frown as a response. Straightening his shoulders, he kept smiling sweetly, clearing his throat once again. “Pardon me for interrupting your idly thoughts, but I couldn't help but notice that you-!”

“ How dare you ?” She spat, fists curled, teeth bared to him like a cornered animal. 

“I beg your pardon.” Alastor raised an eyebrow, pulling his hands up as a sign to calm her down. A gesture that worked so finely before. “Madam, I am just-!.”

She took a few hasty steps aside, putting distance between them. Her jaw clenched, her heart rate increased and her muscles tensed. The agitated woman began glancing everywhere, always keeping his presence as her primary focus. She narrowed her eyes, babbling grave accusations and words that would make the most skillful sailor blush. 

Alastor stood immobile, eyes slightly wide open, creased brows, and lips closed tight. He blinked several times. Slowly allowing her voice to fade away as he kept staring intently down at her. He thought her frown to be ugly and unpleasant and pairing it with foul language made him question how people can become revolting in a blink of an eye. And it made it worse coming from a lady such as her. 

His eyes moved from hers, slothfully trailing down from her lips to her neck. He allowed them to linger there, observing how the veins of her neck popped up, throbbing with her unsettling uncalled etiquette. He parted his lips, the veins getting more and more distinct by the minute. Alastor could still make the foul language she was rambling despite not giving it too much attention. However, when her voice increased in pitch, he snapped out of his trance with a shake of his head.

Fixed brown eyes settled on a flustered and very hostile-looking gal. Noticing how she protectively brought a hand to her neck and chest. A chill wrapped around his spine, and the horror of being mistaken by a perverted deviant settled in. That is something he felt pure repulsion for. He couldn’t stand such horrendous acts forced upon others, and being mistaken as someone that complied with those actions made Alastor feel disgusted with himself.

He had prevented an attack that could have ended her life, yet she thinks of him as someone ready to take advantage of her. Come to think of it, she had all the right to be afraid. It was night after all and he popped up behind her, even at a respected distance, scaring her. However, Alastor could not stop himself from feeling offended in the worst possible ways. If he wanted, she would never see him coming.

“Now listen here, Missy.” He pointed a finger down at her, voice dropping an octave, squinting his eyes, a tight-lipped smile on his handsome young face ready to correct the furious foul-mouthed ungrateful young woman. He had a long list of apologies ready to be professed in case she began panicking, but her accusations have gone too far. This fallacy is not going to ruin his night. If only he meddled in his own business, this would never have happened. “If you can be respectful, you will find it much easier to understand the situation than to act like an uncaring dullard. Has no one taught you respect and manners? Even the most basic ones?”

The woman gasped loudly, staring wide-eyed at his towering figure, bringing a hand to her mouth. “Oh, you, you-!” Her nose crinkled, her fists balled up and shook while her eyes narrowed dangerously. The moment he leaned in to continue, she punched him in the right side of his face. 

His head flung to the side with the surprisingly strong impact of her fist, sending his glasses tumbling across the floor as he staggered backward. A hand automatically settled on his aching cheek, and a taste of copper in his mouth made him realize that he tasted blood. His own blood. Raising both his eyebrows, Alastor kept steady eye contact, watching how she stood in a defensive stance in front of him, panting hard from a single punch, her hand still curled in a shaky fist. 

Despite his predatory instinct demanding him to take action and give chase, he remained frozen in place, watching her sprinting away. Alastor’s eyes remained on her fleeing figure who occasionally looked over her shoulder to make sure he was not chasing her. He could distinctively make the gasps for air as she began to shrink in the distance until the night engulfed her completely from his scrutinizing gaze. 

Swallowing his blood, Alastor’s smile returned. He picked up his glasses, inspecting them before putting them on his face. Sometimes rewards can come in different shapes and sizes. And his came in the form of a smack to the pride, that he didn’t realize he was harboring. “What a strong sweet little thing.” He commented, before looking in the direction of the trees, where the shadow had this woman as a target. He pondered for a moment if he should take a look, but he quickly dismissed the idea. He had his night planned for himself, yet the setbacks had taken his precious time.“This shall be the last time I do someone a favor.” He grumbled in a low tone, returning to his previous path with his hands behind his back, not noticing that his face held nothing but a frown.

Chapter Text

The club was packed, the music blasted from the speakers, as people danced to the contagious and catchy rhythm. Each one of them, unwinding days of the stress of a society that forcefully put weight on their shoulders. It was nights like these that they managed to be what they always wanted, without the fear of being judged and having their reputation blotched. 

The beautiful decoration, the thick air that carried the scent of various perfumes, sweat, heavy cigarette smoke, and alcohol hung in the air. They laughed, chatted while consuming drugs in plain sight. Like it was mentioned before, be what you always wanted to be.

In the corner of the room, Alastor had his eyes locked in a dangerous seductive gaze on his next prey. He chuckled to himself, bringing his glass of alcohol to his lips, watching as the little deer smiled, holding his gaze as he chatted with someone beside him, He watched him take a deep breath before making his way towards him. “Great party.” The man’s eyes sparkled as Alastor’s lips curled into a sly smile. “I’m Everett, and you?” He leaned in closer, drawn in by Alastor’s magnetic presence.

In this place, surrounded by what a respectful society condemned as sinful and destructive, Alastor is just a random man without fame while carrying a hidden agenda. 

“Just someone looking to have fun.” He purposely let his breath hit the man’s ear, taking advantage of the loud music, noticing how Everett’s neck got covered into goosebumps with that simple action.

As the music swelled to a crescendo, Everett leaned back, and gestured to the dance floor, confident that people would not indulge in their close-minded views of seeing two men dancing with clear desire written all over their faces, when they were going against the rules respected people were supposed to follow. 

Alastor, with a charming smile on, responded with a slight shake of his head, looking over his shoulder to where the club's backdoor was at. He gulped down his drink in one smooth shot and left with Everette looking around and eagerly following at a distance.

He knew the effect he had on others and did whatever was necessary to get what he wanted, regardless of who fell into his trap. He’d pick them according to his moral code, in which sometimes his prey did not always deserve what it came to them, but certain rituals demanded the blood of the kind ones, so Alastor did not question it, savoring each moment that would lead to his achievement. 

He walked out of the club, crossing the road and taking the opportunity of the night to become a ghost to the eyes of those around, who were either intoxicated, high, or lost in the rush of breaking the chains of the community. He looked over his shoulder to see his prey casually following him further to the dark park. He stopped and looked around, the place was perfect.

Hearing the light footsteps behind him, Alastor slowly turned and backed away into the shadows with his hands in his pockets, the light of a flickering street lamp, a few feet away from him, illuminating a lone bench. The young man swallowed silently, his heart beating hard in his chest, his fingers twisting in anticipation as he approached him, stopping inches away from his face. 

Alastor chuckled, allowing the young man to smack his lips against his, pushing him hard against the tree. He took his hands out of his pockets, and grabbed Everett's head, kissing him back with the same passion and desire. 

The sound of their kisses, sighs and ruffling clothes was drowned by a cricket's song, a distant croaking of a frog, and the hoot of a solitary howl. The silver moonlight temporarily smothered by the clouds above, gave them extra protection, the cold night temperature not enough to appease their dangerous cravings. 

Alastor pulled Everett’s hair, exposing his neck as he latched his lips onto it, feeling the young man’s blood pulsating under his tongue, his quiet longing huffs telling him that he wanted so much more. Alastor chuckled, opening his eyes, and looking around for unwanted attention as the young man quickly went down to his knees. He smiled, stopping him with a firm grip on his chin, leaning in close, his breath hot against his face. "Wanna get out of here? " He whispered, voice husky with longing, hiding an impending doom behind it. “To a better place? ”

Everett smiled, his eyes clouded with craving as he nodded eagerly, licking his lips as Alastor took him by his hand and led him deeper into the park, where he had his car on the other side, sheltered by trusted shadows that always got his back.

Long, quick steps strode along the hallway with uncertainty. Little pants of breath attempted to pass unnoticed while she tried not to look desperate in front of her male coworkers. She always woke up early to get to work, so she could get the tasks done on time, never leaving a thing to be done, but, since this radio station was very popular, her boss always scolded her for the most insignificant things, expecting her to give her best. But thankfully, she had a few coworkers who were kind to her and treated her better than the majority did. 

Despite the general workforce being mainly dominated by men, some have been changing its concept by hiring women for cheap labor, and, as such, many radio stations started to follow this “trend”. Helping women to get the opportunity to expand their skills, and break the “curse” that they should be at home taking care of the house and children. However, if by any chance pregnancy occurred, they were immediately dismissed as if they were a burden. Misogyny is something that she believes will not go away without a fight, and it gets even worse when voting or even having the same rights as men were put on the table. 

She walked in, looking fresh and calm while internally, all she wanted was to catch her breath and allow her posture to relax for a few seconds. The woman stopped suddenly, her pre-programmed jaunty face immediately lit up with honest relief. “Good morning, Alastor. How are you?” She greeted with a candor smile on her red lips.

Alastor was leaning against a table, one leg over the other with a simple black coffee in his hand, while re-reading his notes in preparation for his broadcast. He tore his eyes off the paper, returning her smile. “Betty, my dear. I was starting to think you would not show up.” Alastor took a sip of his coffee, quickly putting her at ease the moment he noticed her eyes fall on the black mug in his hand. “Oh, do not fret, darling. I am more than capable of brewing my own coffee.” He said with a light chuckle, following her with his eyes as she placed a stack of papers on a table. 

From all the jobs that she was turned down, it is thanks to Alastor that she landed this one. He is different. He cares about women. And it is thanks to him that many people around this station have changed, a little, their views. If their golden boy asks for something, they would comply. That is because he is so eccentric and flamboyant that it is impossible not to be influenced by him. Well, who doesn't? He is an intelligent, handsome, well-mannered charming man that knows how to treat a lady and pays attention when someone is talking. 

“I am so sorry, Alastor.” She turned to look at him, noticing his brown eyes on her cheek dimples. His smile was more sympathetic and gentle than before. Betty failed to hide the blush that had crept on her cheeks, quickly turning around and praying to God to make her invisible. It did not help to hear his knowingly chuckle. 

“Well, I should get going.” Alastor poured more coffee into his mug, neatly putting his journal under his arm. “Don’t want to keep our beloved listeners waiting. It was good to see you.”

“Thank you. I will get my radio ready.” She turned around, hands clasped together under her chin, head slightly tilted to the right side, and beaming him a smile. 

Alastor stopped at the door, his smile broadening as her cheeks grew warm. “Betty darling, you have the most pleasant smile I have ever seen. Never stop brightening the day with it. The world is lacking genuine ones lately.”

“Alastor.” She jokily protested, one hand on her left cheek, slightly turning her body away. 

“Ah, ah, ah. See you later my dear.” He bid her farewell with a slight wave of his hand, his eyes squinting close. 

Betty released a soundless sigh of relief, her shoulders slumping down as she pulled out a chair and sat down. She placed a hand over her erratic heart while hearing Alastor’s cheerful whistling, getting distant and his faint voice greeting anyone that crossed his path. Compliments were always welcome, however, his were the loveliest.

“It is a grim day to our beloved town, my dear friends.” Alastor leaned forward, eyes following his coworkers that passed by his broadcasting office window, giving them a short acknowledging nod, as he proceeded with his broadcasting.” Police have currently closed the Crown Garden after the body of an unidentified young woman was found near the central fountain. Detectives are certain this is the work of a copycat, from a still-at-large, dangerous serial killer that has been operating unsuspectedly in our town. According to our sources, the stab wounds do not match the serial killer’s pattern as the gruesome work was described as, and I quote: ‘Sloppy and amateurish. A sad attempt to replicate a horrible act that brought an abrupt end to innocent lives.’”

Alastor took a sip of his third coffee, slightly loosening his bowtie.”The police are working closely in this case. And, as a concerned citizen, I appeal to your consideration in keeping faith in our police workforce as they are giving their best to bring to an end these cruel senseless deaths as well as the growing missing cases. It is highly advised to avoid unlit areas, and remain accompanied at all costs.” He grabbed his papers, a smile on his lips. “Now, on another note, Sports.”

After finishing up his broadcasting, Alastor smirked smugly, leaving his listeners with a record of the most requested songs. He rose from his chair, one hand on his waist as he twisted his neck from left to right, feeling the muscles strain beneath his skin as he kneaded the knots. 

Sighing silently, Alastor raised a hand to his face, slender fingers gently nudging his glasses back up to the bridge of his nose, locking his journal and notes in the first drawer of his desk. Despite basically having the station at his feet, he knew he could not trust people around here. There was always a hyena ready to strike and steal the spotlight. He knew because when he started working here, he had others trying to sabotage him by trying to get his notes, only to fail miserably and get fired. Alastor was not a dummy, his mother raised no fool. His mother’s advice is like gold, life lessons, in which he was taught to know when to take the advantages offered to him.

Leaving his office to grab a snack, Alastor decided to make a quick stop at Betty's front desk. He particularly enjoyed chatting with the young dame with sparkly eyes. She was charming and indeed had a very pretty smile that lit up the room when she walked in. Truth be told, he liked to make her blush, hearing her talk with passion about work, knitting clubs, and kittens. It reminded him of one of his middle school friends.

As he hummed a low tune, Alastor slowly came to a halt. He blinked, face devoid of emotion as his brown eyes locked on the woman who was holding Betty’s shoulder, noticing how much pressure she was applying to it. He held his empty mug in his hand, keeping the other behind his back as he tilted his head slightly to the left side, eyes not leaving her figure for one second. 

When their eyes met, Alastor straightened his posture, a deja vu staining his memory of the incident in the park’s pond. This was the woman who had punched him  precisely 9 days ago, the one who accused him of such vile acts after he stepped in to save her life. 

He felt heartburn taking hold of him just by looking at you. The incident where he had saved you had left him in a sour mood, a frown on his face, something he despised. Now she was here, but this time not hiding underneath a robe nor sheltered by the night. She looked nothing like the memory he had kept for a few days in his head. This young woman struck him as any other random he had crossed paths with, hell, he might as well bumped against you on the street and never paid much attention. No. If he had bumped into you, he is certain he'd remember the foul manners that had brought a sour taste to his routine. 

The young woman displayed a relaxed and uninterested manner, as if she didn’t remember him or who he was. So much so, that your attention immediately fell again on Betty, who looked uncomfortable and unsure of the words that were being exchanged. Alastor put his mug on a nearby table, adjusted his bowtie, and rolled his sleeves down. Sometimes misunderstandings happen, and the best way is to try to sort things out by having a civilized conversation.

He began walking to them, unable to make out the faint mumbles of the two women, the sound of their hushed voices increasing in volume as he approached. Alastor's footsteps were firm but soft, only a faint sound of the soles of his shoes could be heard. When he came to a stop a few feet away from them, he noticed the young woman’s hand slip off Betty’s shoulder. She fully turned to him, a blank expression still on your face. “Excuse me, ladies. ” He started with a smile on his lips and a polite soft tone, looking at each of them. “but I must inform you that the station does not permit fan visits during busy office hours.” 

“Al-oh...” Betty licked her lips, exchanging glances between the guest and him. The shake in her voice indicated how nervous she was. “I am sorry. I-!”

"It's alright.” The young woman spoke, offering a reassuring smile to Betty. “My deepest apologies. I am here for Mr. Gerard Spencer.” You put the purse’s handle on your forearm, looking up at him. 

He gazed down at you with a charming solicitous smile on his lips, his piercing brown eyes holding your (e/c) ones while keeping his hands casually tucked behind his back in a seemingly affable demeanor. He slowly nodded, covertly making a mental note of your every minor detail. “Well, I’m sorry to inform you but he’s not here at the moment, my dear.”

”Oh, I see.” You looked away in disappointment, a small pout forming on your lips.” Well, then I shall make my leave and come back once he returns. Have a great day, sir.” You gave Alastor a short nod and a smile to Betty, before walking towards the exit.

Alastor cautiously followed you with his eyes, sensing Betty's presence slowly approaching with uncertainty. He moved in, his hand confidently reaching for the door handle first, watching how your hand retreated with a slight jerk, clenching into a loosened fist. “Allow me, my dear.” Alastor kept his smile, opening the door for you. “I do hope my words did not come out ill-mannered. I am merely following the company’s policy.”

“Oh, not at all, sir.” You assured with a slight tug on your lips, putting space between. “I completely understand. You see, Mr. Spencer had told me to come and book an appointment with him, but apparently he had either forgotten about me or simply didn’t want to speak to me at all." You looked away, lifting a hand, resting it against your chin as your fingers curled around the curve of your jawline, mumbling softly to yourself. “I should have known better than to believe in everything a man says to me .”

Alastor chuckled, one hand still on the door handle and the other behind his back. “I’m not sure if we are hiring.” He closed the door.” But if Gerard has told you to come here, I am certain we can make sure your day was not in vain.”

”Really? That’s awfully kind of you, Mr.” You smiled, barely able to contain the excitement bubbling up in you.

 Alastor stood straight, his fingers slipping from the door handle, the slight narrowing of his eyes going unnoticed. “What is your name, sweetheart?”

“Y/n L/n.” You nodded, the small plume of your hat lightly swinging with the nod, a glimmer in your eyes holding his stare as you shook his hand. “A pleasure.” 

“Miss L/n, do you know who I am?” 

“I-Huh-Hmm” The smile you had instantly vanished, a single brow rose in question, and your eyes looked at him from head to toe. Clearing your throat, you brought a gloved hand to your neck and licked your lips before blurting in a cheery tone. “The…an employee?”

“CorrEct, ah, ah, ah. You can say you got it right the first time, doll.” Alastor laughed, winking down at you.

Betty came up beside him, exchanging glances between you two before swallowing silently and pursing your lips, retrieving the smile you had offered her. “I was going to book the appointment but Gerard took my notes to your office. I didn't want to interrupt you while you worked.”

“Oh, it's quite alright, my dear.” He assured Betty with a chuckle and a short dismissive gesture with his hand. “ You should know by now how Gerard is. Always creating challenges along the way. “ He turned to you.  

“Follow me, darling.” Alastor motioned, wondering if you remembered him or if you were just performing an act. If it was the latter, so far you're doing a good job. Even worth of a small ovation. He usually has a pristine, sharp memory but since the incident happened at night and a while back, he had allowed his mind to distort your memory. 

Looking over his shoulder, he caught you giving Betty an excited smile as you began following him. He took you to his broadcasting office, opening the door for you like a gentleman, just like his mother has taught him to. “After you.” He slightly bowed, straightening up once you walked inside.

“Wow.” You looked around, gripping the purse’s handle, amazed by the latest technology. You noticed how perfect organized everything was. The room smelled faintly of sandalwood, a few paintings hung on the walls, depicting idyllic cabins nestled in the woods, and autographed framed pictures adorned the walls, showcasing famous musicians smiling and holding their instruments.

Books that varied from literature to technical manuals were neatly arranged on shelves along with various music records. The half-closed window blinds, allowed a soft light in that danced across the surfaces of the furniture. In the right corner of the room stood a desk made of polished mahogany, the brass lamp that sat on its surface casting a warm glow across the area. Alastor closed the door, standing still looking at the back of your moving head, the smile long gone. 

“Is this your individual office?” You asked, turning your attention towards his desk, a hint of uncertainty in your voice. 

“I’m not the only one who has an individual office.” He replied with a pleased tone, walking past you to his desk. “Please, sit.” He proceeded to sit down and rummage his drawers, grabbing a form and handing it to you. 

"Here, use this darling." Alastor reached forward, giving you a black pen with a silver clip. You noticed the weight it had, instantly knowing that it was of high quality, wondering when you'll be able to afford one of these. 

“Thank you.” You nodded with a small smile, seeing your reflection in the silver clip, its polished surface gleaming under the office light. Wasting no time in filling out the application form, you could sense him watching you carefully, his expression unreadable and relaxed as he leaned back on his chair.

Alastor had noticed that the voice that spilled such vile words was soft yet it held a strong firmness in it, and your (e/c) eyes were undeniably hard to forget. Yet, he thought of you to be dull looking. Nothing special. “Are you applying for a desk job or cleaning one?”

“Can it be both?” You didn’t stop writing, particularly enjoying how the dark ink flowed smoothly onto the paper, your writing pretty and neat. “As long as it helps pay the bills, am I right?” You chuckled, hearing him hum in approval. “All done.” You handed him the paper, which he took with a smile.

“Well, my dear. I will leave this on Spencer’s desk.” Alastor started reading everything you wrote down, his eyes double-checking each piece of information. “I hope you get a positive answer and work with us.”

“It would be a wonderful opportunity to work for one of the best radio stations in the area.” You gave him the pen. 

“Keep it, my dear.”

“What?” You hesitated, shaking your head and putting it on his desk. “I can’t accept it.”

“Please do, I insist.”

“Thank you but no.” You smiled, grabbing your purse and standing up. “Thank you so much for seeing me and allowing me to have the opportunity to fill up my application. This act of kindness is very much appreciated.”

“The pleasure is all mine, sweetheart.” He got up, lightly bending forward. “I must inform you that if you do not hear from us, it means you did not get the job.”

“I understand, Mr..?”

He laughed kindheartedly. “Alastor.”

“Oh.” You slightly jolted, looking shockingly up at him, your lips parting.

“Is everything alright?”

“I-huh-Yes, I mean of course.” You cleared your throat, smiling nervously while speaking a little too fast. “You are…I listen to your broadcast.” You gave him a short laugh. “I just never…Huh, never associated a face with a voice.”

“Don’t tell me you thought of me as some kind of haunting radio.” He smiled, raising one brow, keeping his eyes on your face and hands behind his back.

“Mr., that is so silly.” You laughed, turning your face around as Alastor tilted his head to see you better. “ I genuinely thought you were an older gentleman.” 

Alastor chuckled, giving you his hand for you to take, which you did nervously as he proceeded to shake it with slow firm movements. “Then I hope I have made a good impression with my good looks.”

“Huh-Yes.” You closed your eyes, offering nothing more than a plain smile. “ Well, Mr. Alastor, regardless of the possibility of not getting the job, I thank you kindly for seeing me. I will now make my leave, otherwise, I will not manage to get to my destination on time.” You stated in a firm tone. “Truth be told, I’m job hunting and it would be silly of me to only wait for the answer of one job offer.”

“Understandable.” Alastor stepped aside and opened the door for you. “I wish you luck, my dear. I am hopeful you will get a job soon enough. I just wish I could do more. Perhaps, I can write you a recommendation letter.”

“You are known to be very kind, Mr. but it's quite alright.“  You tried to peek over his shoulder, to the clock but since he was too tall, it was impossible to do so without making a fool of yourself. ”I must go. I have other important commitments to attend to. But thank you very much for your kind help.”

“The pleasure is all mine.” Alastor took you to the exit door, opening it for you and bidding a good-natured farewell. He winked at Betty and went to the kitchen, staring down at the streets, waiting. Standing still, he watched as you appeared, your hat's plume swaying with the light breeze. He saw you putting a hand on your hat and turning to look up at the window, your eyes immediately locking with his, holding his stare.

Alastor kept his posture upright, placing his hands behind his back, his brown eyes fixed on your face.  For a moment, he felt a rapid heartbeat drumming in his chest, his pupils dilating as he returned your growing smile. Feeling a slight twitch crossing over him as he saw you turn and leave, hiding behind his back a hand that sought to keep murderous thoughts from musing out.

He kept a calm demeanor while chuckling to himself as you crossed the busy street. The once charming smile slowly grew into a sinister-looking one as the thrill he was experiencing at the very moment was something that usually triggered when hunting his worthy prey.