oml hiiii, i rushed here immediately when i saw your requests are open ive been in love with the idea of maybe ghost having a teenage niece (his older brothers daughter) who he basically raised when he wasn't on duty but like none of the 141 knows about it because he keeps her a secret. He's basically her father at this point cause the rest of the family was murdered when she was only a baby. Anyways, you can do whatever you want with this prompt or not if you don't want to. But like I can totally just imagine Soap just seeing them in a Tescos and absolutely losing his shit when seeing a teenager swinging from his Lieutenants arm.
if you choose not to do this prompt that's completely fine!!! thank you!!!
—Sole Survivor
⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ
╰┈➤ ❝ [Your father died years ago, and so you fall under the stiff, and unyielding, protection of your Uncle Simon. But it's not all bad. He can be funny when he wants to be.] ❞
When you were the only one to live, the sole survivor of that massacre, Simon knew he was in trouble.
He’d found you under the bed. The blood was still congealing over the wooden floors—whoever put you there, Tommy, his mother, Beth, or even his nephew, was all a mystery that no one would ever know the answer to. Yet, the larger question was how you, a baby, had managed to stay silent through it all.
Simon had picked you up with panicked breath and tears in his eyes as the sirens of the police had gotten closer, holding you to him as you blinked awake and yawned. The bodies of his family were strewn around the floor, broken and bent; murdered. But you. Little you.
Alive.
It would be best to leave you to be found by the authorities. To go somewhere far away from him and the future that was now stained into his soul—the pact of revenge and horror that would live through him like a brand. It was the right thing to do; the correct thing.
And then he remembers his mother’s eyes, and he’s already rushing to the back window while cradling your squirming body. The rest, of course, passed as the flow of time always did.
“I’m thinking we should have steak,” your voice pipes up as Simon grabs a bag of crisps from the shelf. Brown eyes blink down at you, balaclava tight to this face.
“You have steak money?” You were a teenager now, older and figuring life out one day at a time. He hadn’t told you the whole story, and he won’t until much later, but you know enough to a point that you were comfortable with.
You know your family loved you.
“You’re the one with the job,” he huffs at you as you utter under your breath.
“Exactly,” Simon grunts. “Eatin’ me out of house and home like I never feed you.”
“I,” you point a finger into the air, “am growing. Soon I’ll be just as tall as you, y’know that? I’ll be towering over everyone and giving them that same dead-eyed look that—” brown orbs level with you, unimpressed. You beam, punching his shoulder. “See! That one!”
“Fuckin’ piss off, would you?” Simon grumbles, moving down to the next aisle in his large and darkly-clothed glory. Your laugh trails after him, feet heavy on his heels. “Givin’ me a headache.”
You both walk around the Tesco, Simon getting strange looks while a beaming teenager walks beside him talking about supper, class, and anything in between. He offered short responses, sometimes sarcastic and sometimes serious—it depended, but the point was that he did answer you, no matter how pointless the conversation.
“I think I’m going to join a club this year,” you speak as you gaze at the items your Uncle puts in his basket. A gaze side-eyes you slowly.
“What, then?”
“I don’t know,” you hum, shoulder bumping into his arm and tilting your head. “Were you in any clubs?”
He grunts, shaking his head before a hand descends to your hair, ruffling it as you hiss in annoyance. “Never had time.” Simon hadn’t told you about his father or what he had done, and God help him if he ever uttered a word about it. That wasn’t something that mattered in your story, just his…he’d never place that weight on you willingly.
You frown as your uncle's arm loops your shoulders casually, keeping you to him as other people walk past you. Brown filters over posture and facial expressions—looking for the barest hint of ill-intent. When there’s nothing, and the forms move around you as easily as they had come, Simon’s attention leaves, and he continues on as if nothing had happened.
“Try Debate.” Your face turns to him, curious.
“Debate?” His eyes twinkle, and behind his face covering you immediately find the tell-tale twitch of a smirk.
“Argue so bloody well you could convince a rookie that a P890 can hold 10 rounds.”
You fight the shocked smile that pulls at your lips. “I don’t know if I should be offended or not.” Eyes swirl, and a hand squeezes your arm; jostling you slightly.
“It’s a compliment.”
“You’ve always been shit at those.” You get a firm glare and a grunt from above.
“Fuckin’ language.” Your lips mock his response, making fun of him before he sends a flick of his thumb and forefinger into your temple.
“Hey!” Simon chuckles lowly, walking closer to the front of the store to get ready to pay as you mutter. “Jerk.”
It was a surprise though, that when you had barreled onto your Uncle’s back for an impromptu piggyback ride as payback—which the man didn’t even flinch at, already used to your antics—that the wide eyes of a man with a mohawk met yours. Your head is atop your Uncles, resting there as the lady at the front gives you strange looks from behind the register as Simon places the items in front of her.
He was gobsmacked, this stranger with his hair all done up like that, and your eyes blink at the display of tags around his neck that mirror your guardians. Broad, yet not so like Simon, and muscled, also, not as much as Simon.
“Unc?” You ask, and the man below you hums in question, pulling out notes from his wallet absentmindedly. “Who’s the guy with the mohawk?”
Simon tenses under you, fingers freezing.
“With the what?” It wasn’t really shocking that no one knew about you besides Price—and the only reason he knew was that in the event something happened to him, Simon had made the Captain swear that you would be taken care of.
Imagine his horror when his brown eyes darted up only to find them meeting the cobalt blues of his Sergeant, the Scot's hand outstretched to a box of pancake mix with a pack of Irn Bru in the other.
There’s an immediate sinking feeling in Simon’s chest when Johnny awkwardly tips his fingers in a shocked greeting—eyes flashing up to your curious face before he thins his lips and blinks.
You wave enthusiastically back.
“Oh, bloody fuckin’ hell.”
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‘DANCE WITH THE DEVIL’ ALASTOR
summary. You confess to Alastor, rapidly turning the pages of your unpredictable future with him as you two share a night of passion, unknowingly that someone lurks in the shadows watching you.
PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR | PART FIVE
warnings. human!alastor x fem!reader, dark romance, murder, mention of blood/gore, agegap (you're in your 20s while Alastor is in his early 30s), alastor preys on your innocence, smut, Alastor gets a bit possessive and primal idk, breeding kink, dacryphilia, orgasm denial, rough!dom!alastor, a love making if you squint
author’s note. i took a short break to focus on my exams but i am back and will be responding to requests and my messages as soon as possible, thank you all for being patient! I plan on having only ten chapters so we are half way there! If you want to check this story out on wattpad (where you can find the chapters a bit more easily) you can find me @ SCREAMPIED. as always, thank you for the love and support. enjoy sinners.
You had first thought to find Alastor's warehouse by memory but it was a fruitless attempt as the woods that surrounded his home were so dense that Mr.Ray opted against it, seeing as you two would get lost without a proper guide. You wanted to venture off into the woods but with Ray supervising you, you knew you had to take your search elsewhere. You and Mr. Ray had found yourselves on to the bustling streets of New Orleans, specifically targeting the popular French Quarter. The vibrant energy of the city surrounded you, the sounds of jazz music and lively conversations filling the air as you navigated through the crowd.
Your first stop was the renowned jazz club where Alastor was known to frequent and had taken you to only a few nights ago. The sultry melodies spilled out onto the street, drawing in a diverse crowd of music enthusiasts and night owls. The inviting glow of the club's entrance welcomed you back, stirring a mix of heartache and determination within you.
As you stepped inside, the familiar ambiance washed over you—the smooth jazz tunes, the dimly lit stage, and the intimate setting that had once felt so enchanting. The club was alive with activity, patrons enjoying the music, sipping on cocktails, and engaging in lively conversations.
You approached the bartender, a seasoned individual who seemed to have a wealth of knowledge about the club's regulars. With a friendly smile, you inquired about Alastor, describing him as the charming gentleman with a penchant for jazz and a captivating presence.
The bartender's eyes lit up with recognition. "Ah, you're talking about Al," he said with a nod. "He hasn't been around for a while, but he usually shows up later in the evening, closer to midnight."
Your heart raced with anticipation as you thanked the bartender and found a seat at the bar, eagerly awaiting Alastor's arrival. The minutes ticked by slowly, each second filled with anticipation and a hint of apprehension.
As midnight approached, the jazz club seemed to come alive in a different way, the music taking on a more soulful tone, the atmosphere tinged with a sense of mystery and possibility. You glanced around, searching for any sign of Alastor's distinctive presence, hoping that this time, your search would lead to the answers you sought.
As the minutes stretched into midnight, Mr. Ray settled into the seat beside you at the jazz club. His concerned expression didn't go unnoticed as he glanced around the lively venue, the music and laughter swirling around you.
"Miss, I have to say, this whole venture feels like a bad idea," Mr. Ray began, his tone cautious yet firm. "Chasing after someone who seems intent on staying elusive, especially someone like Alastor, might not lead to the answers you're looking for."
"And what do you know about Alastor?" You turned to Mr. Ray then, arching an eyebrow, challenging his perspective.
The driver shrugged, lighting a cigarette. "Not much, except for his reputation. Street talk suggests he's someone best left alone."
In that moment, you realized there was more to Alastor than met the eye. The man you'd grown fond of had a life beyond the radio show, shrouded in mystery. It prompted questions about how well you truly knew him; the answer, upon reflection, was not much, given the short time you'd known each other.
"Is he some sort of dangerous person? A kingpin? A fugitive?" You tapped your fingers on the bar counter, probing for answers.
"Not precisely, Miss. It's more of an unsettling aura he carries. People steer clear, citing his eyes as the giveaway—he's said to lack a soul," Mr. Ray explained, flicking ash from his cigarette. "That's why he resides in the woods, away from prying eyes."
"These are just rumors," you defended, feeling protective of Alastor. "He's not what they say."
"True, but rumors often hold grains of truth," Mr. Ray countered.
You met his gaze, a mix of determination and uncertainty in your eyes. "I appreciate your concern, Mr. Ray," you replied firmly. "But I need answers. I need to find Alastor and talk to him, no matter the risks."
Mr. Ray sighed, a hint of resignation in his eyes. "I can't stop you from doing what you feel is right, Miss," he conceded. "But please, be cautious. Sometimes, chasing after the thing we want most can just lead to more heartache."
His words struck a chord, a fleeting doubt creeping into your mind. However, the determination to seek answers and clarity outweighed the uncertainty. With a nod of understanding to Mr. Ray, you turned your focus back to the club, waiting anxiously for any sign of Alastor's arrival, knowing that this encounter would shape the path ahead, for better or for worse.
Your eyes widened as you noticed that familiar sight of brown hair and charming smile. Alastor entered the club with a woman on his arm, sparking a confused twinge of jealousy to course through you, but you quickly composed yourself despite your heart racing so much you were sure it was going to pop out of your chest. Sensing the moment of truth approaching, you turned to Mr. Ray beside you.
"You can go home now, Mr. Ray," you said firmly, your gaze fixed on Alastor's figure in the distance. "And do tell my mother that I will be home late."
Mr. Ray's expression tightened with concern. "Miss, it's half past midnight. I can't leave you alone like this," he protested, his protective instincts kicking in.
However, you remained resolute. "I am a grown woman," you said, your eyes never leaving Alastor as he conversed with the woman beside him. "I can manage fine without a chaperone. Now go."
Reluctantly, Mr. Ray nodded, understanding the determination in your voice. He stood up from his seat, casting one last worried glance in your direction before making his way out of the club. The sense of independence filled you as you watched him leave.
As Alastor's eyes met yours across the crowded jazz club, a silent understanding passed between you. With a subtle nod, he excused himself from the woman on his arm, gracefully making his way through the lively crowd toward you.
His approach was deliberate, his gaze unwavering as he closed the distance between you. With a teasing smile, Alastor glided his finger across your cheek in a familiar gesture, a playful twinkle in his eyes. "Smile, my dear," he remarked in his charismatic tone, "you are never fully dressed without a smile."
Your response betrayed the jealously you felt as a shiver goes down your spine at just a mere touch from him, you let his name fall from your lips like a soft spell. "Alastor," you said, your voice a mix of love and curiosity, "I have been looking for you."
The playful banter momentarily faded, replaced by a tense anticipation as you awaited his response. The air between you crackled with unspoken questions and emotions, the time for games and pleasantries giving way to the pressing need for answers and clarity.
"Oh? Well you have found me. How ever can I be assistance?" He did a quick bowls he grabbed ahold of your hand, placing a gentle lingering kiss along your knuckles.
"Who was that woman you're with?" The question spilled form your mouth before you could think, glancing over at the short plump woman that was dancing her heart away with another gentleman on the dance floor with a twinge of distaste, "A friend?"
Alastor could only smile at your noticeable jealousy, "A friend." He confirmed, "That is the lively mimzy, she cornered me as I made my way in here and assisted that I escort her in. As you can she, she already has forgotten my presence."
You nod in understanding, breath catching in your throat as Alastor stands closer to you, his face only inches from yours as he moves his hand to your waist, the stool you sat on only making it all the more easier for him to tower over you.
"Now, anymore questions? Or can I kiss you, my dear?" Alastor made a show of teasing you in such a public place, his grin stretching from ear to ear as he leaned in for a kiss but your hand over his mouth stopped him. As much as you wanted to give in to his enticing allure you knew you shouldn’t, not when you had no idea where exactly you stood in his life. You wanted something more, more than spontaneous rendezvous.
"I have a few.." You admit, "But let's go somewhere private, away from everyone else.”
“Of course,” Alastor straightened his tie, offering you his arm with a smile, "There is a lovely park not too far from here, the fireflies there are truly a sight to see. Shall we?"
You take his arm with a small nervous smile, walking out of the club that had just began to truly get lively once again. The both of you walked down the bustling street of the French Court, unbeknownst to you of a car headlights turning on across the street to slowly follow you.
As you both arrived at the nearby park, the scene unfolded like a romantic painting. Other couples strolled along the riverbank, their laughter and silhouettes bathed in the soft glow of fireflies. You couldn't help but gaze at the night sky in awe, feeling as though you were part of something truly enchanting. The stars brightened the night sky like diamonds and you couldn't help by smile, feeling as though this counted as your second date with Alastor. It was simply, like the first one, and you found yourself with a bit of longing for the future- one that was filled with more moments like these with the man you've come to love.
Walking quietly beside Alastor, a sudden wave of nervousness washed over you, making you feel small beside him. Finding a secluded bench, the gentle rustling of leaves in the breeze creating a serene atmosphere.
Sitting together on the bench, you felt the weight of unspoken words hovering on the tip of her tongue, struggling to gather the courage to voice them. Her head battled with her heart, and the burning question finally spilled out, "Alastor, what are we?"
He chuckled lightly, turning to look at you, but you kept her eyes fixed forward, unable to meet his intense gaze. "Whatever do you mean, my dear?" he replied with amusement.
"You know exactly what I mean,"you said, wrapping your arms around yourself for comfort, your gaze drifting up to the sky once more. "You know I'm a Duvalier, with all the expectations that come with it. I'm expected to be married by the end of the season. It's an obligation, but it's also something I want. I want the whole happy ending – a husband, children eventually, that perfect life."
Your words stumbled out in a jumble as you struggled to convey her feelings to Alastor, or anyone for that matter. "I know it sounds silly, but I love you, or I know I could. What I'm trying to say is, I want to be with you and have that perfect life with you, but I need to know if you feel the same way. I don't want to be just a distraction or someone you discard when you're bored."
The weight of the silence that followed your confession settled heavily on your heart. You braced yourself for Alastor's response, half expecting the worst as your mother's warnings echoed in your mind. If only you could glimpse into Alastor's thoughts and see the turmoil brewing within him. For a fleeting moment, his smile wavered, unnoticed by you. Inside him, emotions raged like a relentless storm threatening to engulf him. You had been nothing more than a fleeting diversion, a domestic facade slowly growing on him, but love? The very concept seemed laughable to him, having forgotten its true meaning since his mother's passing.
The prospect of love was new territory for Alastor, dangerous waters he hesitated to navigate blindly. Yet, a part of him yearned for it. He gazed into your earnest eyes, seeing a hopeless romantic who he had once thought he could manipulate then kill with his charm. Now, he realized you were entirely his, and nothing he could ever do would deter your affection. He entertained the notion that perhaps you were his salvation, someone who had peered into his soul like no one else ever had.
Despite his dark secrets and looming shadows, you looked past it all and embraced him for who he was. Alastor, in his twisted mind, welcomed this newfound sensation of love but remained cautious, acknowledging his reluctance towards commitment. Yet, if you were willing to accept him with all his flaws, he was willing to try.
"Do you love me enough to die for me?" Alastor's gripped your chin tightly, forcing you to meet his intense gaze. You couldn't tear your eyes away, captivated by his aura and the shiver of pleasure his intensity sent down your spine.
"Yes," you answered breathlessly, craving his touch.
"That was too easy," Alastor dismissed your response with boredom, having seen the life fade from eyes so easily before. Living alongside him, however, would be a far greater challenge than dying for him. "Would you live for me?"
"Every day," you replied, your hands clinging to his wrist as he drew you closer, igniting a fiery desire between your legs that couldn't be quenched without him.
"Then you are mine dear, forever. In this life and the next, in heaven and in hell." Alastor's words hung in the air, a testament to the intensity of your emotions now reciprocated. Without another word, Alastor closed the distance between you, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. It was a collision of desire and longing, a melding of two souls entwined in a tumultuous dance of love and darkness.
His kiss was both tender and possessive, a silent declaration of his complex feelings for you. You melted into his embrace, feeling the heat of his touch sear through your entire being. It was as if every doubt, every fear was erased in that moment of connection, replaced by a burning need for each other.
Time seemed to stand still as you both lost yourseleves in each other, your hearts beating as one in the midst of chaos. The world around them faded into insignificance, leaving only the raw passion and undeniable bond that drew you together.
When he finally broke the kiss, your breaths mingling in the shared space between them, Alastor's eyes held a mixture of longing and uncertainty. He had allowed himself to be vulnerable, to let you see a side of him he had long kept hidden. It was a leap of faith, a gamble on love that both thrilled and terrified him.
As you looked into his eyes, feeling the echo of his kiss still lingering on your lips, you knew that in that moment, all that mattered was the fierce connection that blossomed from a single dance on a patio a few nights ago, a flame that burned brighter in the midst of darkness.
"Take me home?" Your grip on Alastor never faltered as you felt this undeniable need to be with him, to give yourself to him yet again and explore that now familiar height of pleasure you tasted before.
The warm glow of the fireplace bathed the room in a soft, flickering light, casting dancing shadows across the walls and floor. Alastor had you on the floor, legs over his shoulders with his arms hooked under your knees to fold you into a deep mating press. You felt his cock go inside you impossibly deeper, his swollen tip bruising your cervix as he pounded into you relentlessly. The crackling of the fire added a soothing rhythm to the charged atmosphere, heightening the senses as you explored each other's bodies with fervent caresses.
Alastor let out a primal groan that had goosebumps appearing all over you skin, his rough thrusts sending electric tingles throughout your body. Those deep brown eyes that poured into yours ignited a fire within you, a need that begged to be satisfied. His lips found their way to your neck, planting soft kisses along the sensitive skin, causing you to shiver with a soft moan slipping past your lips.
You ran your fingers through his hair and down his back, fingernails dragging across his skin to leave marks, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your touch. The desire between you grew with each passing moment, fueled by the undeniable chemistry that crackled in the air.
"Say it again," Alastor demanded, sweat beading down his face as he brought his head up to look into your eyes once again, his thumb tracing the outline of your bottom lip with a blissful smile.
"I love you," You tossed your head back in pleasure, your throat nearly becoming raw from being so loud, your voice echoing throughout the walls of the warehouse, "I love you, A-Alastor..I'm so close, please."
"Good girls beg to cum, my dear." Your lover says, his voice a sweet taunt in your ear as he continues to fuck you into the floor, his balls slapping against you, "So beg."
"Alastor, please-please can I cum?" You begged, your mind going dumb with nothing but the thought of his cock inside you, filling you to the brim and stretching you impossibly wide that it stung, "It feels so good, Alastor, please-! I-!"
"No." His refusal had tears brimming the corner of your eyes, that need within the pit of your stomach only growing, aching to be released as you tried your best to deny it and not succumb to that feeling in the desperate attempt to submit to Alastor.
“Please—? Ah! Al—!”
Alastor could only laugh at your pitiful attempt to speak over the lewd sound of your tight pussy sucking him in greedily. If he couldn’t torture you to death he would surely torture you in other ways. Though the thought of your blood spilling from your pretty throat and soaking his fingers enticed him, he realized that he enjoyed inflicting the sexual torture a tad bit more. There was something about the look on your tear streaked face, mascara running and lipstick smudged, painting you as the perfect sinful masterpiece that he created. The way you were going completely dumb on his cock, getting lost in the feeling of only him as your mind turned to absolute mush from the overwhelming pleasure. You were shaking, writhing beneath him from the overstimulation and yet you still looked up at him with oh so innocent eyes— sweet pure innocence that he wanted to corrupt.
You were young and inexperienced in the matters of the heart, sex— hell, the world. It was going to take someone who was much older, much more experience to show you just how amazing adulthood could be, how pleasure can be felt from the top of your head to the top of your toes and lucky for you, you had a partner that knew the female anatomy all too well. Alastor angled his hips just right, hitting the sweet spot within you relentlessly that had you crying out, eyes rolling back, and toes curling.
“Look at me,” Alastor took ahold of your chin, forcing you to stay present and not get lost in the wonderland of complete euphoria, “That’s it darling, keep looking into my eyes and maybe I’ll reward you, hm?”
“Alastor…” Your voice was becoming a bit hoarse now, voice cracking from the tears you were shedding but a small smile graced your lips despite it all because you knew that this was something you wanted to experience for the rest of your days. To be beneath him, submitting your entire being to the man you love so you wouldn’t have to worry, or some much as think about the outside world because in this moment it was just you two.
“Fuck,” He cursed, feeling himself grow closer to his own release but he ignored it, focusing on you and how your lips were parted, begging Alastor with a soft voice to let you cum, “Let me hear that pretty voice, mon chère.”
"Please, please, please," you quietly begged, feeling another orgasm coming quicker than the last. Alastor watched you intently before he sat up to lick his thumb, bringing it down to rub circles onto your swollen clit. Your hips nearly bucked away from how sensitive you felt, "Alastor!"
"Does that feel good?" Alastor quieted you with a kiss before moving away to take your bottom lip in between his teeth, making you whimper as you felt him bite down, the irony taste of blood filling your mouth, "Be a doll and cum for me."
"Fuck!" You moaned out, feeling yourself clench around his cock just as you came undone.
Alastor quickly followed suit, burying himself inside you to the hilt before painting your walls white. You winced slightly from the feeling of being stuffed so full, your hole practically fluttering around nothing once he pulled out of you. It was strange, feeling his seed drip out of you, it was warm. You yelped just as Alastor brought your sore legs up to your chest again, his fingers making quick work of your freshly fucked out hole as he finger fucked his dripping cum back into you. The sudden primal urge to not let a single drop go to waste taking over Alastor, his eyes nearly black with lust once he takes in the sight of your swollen pussy with a grin that made you shiver.
“I’m s-sore..” Your body still shook from the intense orgasm you just had, “wait—”
“Shh,” Alastor hushed you, the wet sounds coming from your pussy seemingly louder now, “Relax, my dear.”
You whimpered, body tensing as you watched Alastor’s long slender fingers slide in and out of you with ease thanks to the natural lubricant of your arousal and his cum combined. Alastor finger fucked his cum back into you with a wide grin, only stopping when he was satisfied with the sight of your pretty pussy taking all of his cum again
Alastor traced delicate patterns along your inner thigh, his gaze locked on yours as he savored the rise and fall of your chest. "Such a beautiful sight," he murmured, his voice sending shivers down your spine. "I don't take words lightly, especially when they come from someone as captivating as you. Your mind, your body," he trailed kisses up your body, savoring each love mark along your neck, "and your soul—all are mine now."
A whispered affirmation escaped your lips, barely audible but filled with a depth of emotion that mirrored the intensity in Alastor's eyes. As your lips met in a slow, passionate kiss, the world around you faded into the background, leaving only the two of you in a realm of shared desire and longing. His mouth silenced your moans as he deepened the kiss, each touch igniting a fire that consumed you both.
Exhausted yet content, you nestled into Alastor's embrace as he spooned you, his warmth enveloping you like a protective cocoon. The soft glow of the fireplace cast shadows on the walls, creating a tranquil ambiance that matched the peace settling over your spent bodies. Goosebumps danced across your skin as his hand traced gentle paths down your arm, pulling you closer to him.
In that moment, with your head resting against his chest and his heartbeat a steady rhythm beneath your ear, you drifted into a peaceful slumber. Alastor's whispered words—"Rest, my darling. We'll leave in the morning"—were the last echoes you heard before sleep claimed you, cocooning you in a world where love and warmth were the only realities.
As Alastor lay beside you, the flickering flames of the fireplace began to dim, casting fleeting shadows across the room. Sensing the need for more wood to keep the fire alive, Alastor gently slipped out from under the covers, careful not to disturb your peaceful slumber. Unbeknownst to him, Mr. Ray had been lurking outside the window, his curiosity and fulfilling need to protect you getting the better of him as he watched Alastor's movements.
Silently slipping out into the cold night, Alastor made his way to the woodpile, his breath forming misty clouds in the chilled air. With practiced ease, he picked up the axe, lean muscles flexing as he did so, ready to chop the logs needed to fuel the dying fire. Little did he know that Mr. Ray, hidden in the shadows, had followed him, his heart pounding with a mix of fear and curiosity. Mr.Ray had been there long enough to witness the intimate moment you and Alastor shared, drawing his own conclusions about you and what exactly you meant to Alastor. Overall, he saw nothing but a couple being scandalous, your intimacy blanketed by the secrets of the night but there was just something off about Alastor that Mr.Ray couldn't shake and he wanted to find out what.
As Alastor swung the axe, the sound of wood splitting echoed in the quiet night. But it was a small twig under Mr. Ray's foot that betrayed his presence. Alastor's senses instantly sharpened, his instincts alert to the intruder in his domain. With a swift movement, he turned, the axe held firmly in his grasp, a murderous glint flickering in his eyes as he scanned the darkness with a playful grin. The killer had a hunch, a feeling, that something felt off when he brought you back to his place. Of course he thought it was his imagination or the voices in his head playing tricks on him but now he was certain that there was someone lurking in the shadows watching him.
As the twig snapped under Mr. Ray's foot, his heart raced with the realization that he had been discovered. Panic surged through him as he tried to retreat into the darkness, hoping to hide from Alastor's piercing gaze. However, before he could take more than a few steps, he heard the sound of footsteps closing in behind him.
Alastor, quick to react, had already sensed Mr. Ray's attempt to flee. Like a fox hunting a hare, he closed the distance between them in mere moments, his presence looming over Mr. Ray like a menacing shadow. The moonlight cast eerie shadows around them, adding to the suspense of the moment.
Mr. Ray's breath caught in his throat as he felt Alastor's presence right behind him, the cold steel of the axe chillingly close to his back. A shiver ran down his spine as he realized the danger he was in, trapped between the darkness of the night and the looming threat of Alastor.
Alastor's voice sliced through the tense silence, low and threatening. "Trying to sneak away, are we?" His words dripped with a dangerous edge, sending a chill down Mr. Ray's spine.
There was two choices Alastor had to make, he could kill him now or torture him later. Though you were here so that limited him to only one option, which was to kill him now. The murderer didn't mind that because as much as he wanted to drill some information out of him on why he was here, the sudden realization that he had been watching the both of you made a bubbling anger boil within him. He had watched you, in all your naked glory no doubt, and that thought alone made the rage spill over.
In that heart-stopping moment, Alastor raised the axe, the moonlight glinting off its sharp blade as it hovered ominously in the air. Mr. Ray's instincts screamed at him to run, but fear rooted him to the ground, unable to move.
The scene was frozen in time, the only sound being the faint rustle of leaves in the night breeze. With a swift and calculated movement, Alastor brought the axe down, the air splitting with the sound of its descent. That satisfying crunch of a skull crushing made Alastor smile, blood splattering all over his face and bare chest as he brought the axe down again, and again. His eyes, usually calm and collected, now glinted with a manic light as his true, psychotic nature spilled over.
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Regarding Death Wolf...
Hear me out (NO, it's not the kind you are thinking)
We know Death has a job, right? To collect souls and most likely release them to the afterlife.
And for this job, he has to be there when somebody is about to die, as demostrated with him being there moments before Puss' eight death.
Supposing he is THE Death and he has been doing this since the beginning of time (or at least when there were enough stories of the Grim Reaper to adquire a physical form) that means he has seen a lot, A LOT of awful things.
Murders, suicides, massacres, death of infants, people who didn't deserve to die alone, animal cruelty, some other heavy stuff I won't mention here, etc etc etc.
And we thought "man, how is he able to cope with all of that? That job has to be utter torture for someone."
Probably many of you could think that he is able to do that because he is Death, and he was "born" with that purpose and only him can reap souls perfectly.
But while he is a force of nature, he also WAS a force of nature. Let me explain it well: He adquired a personality enough to be angry, excited, frustrated, amazed, happy, among other emotions.
While he has supernatural power and is most likely the most powerful being in the Shrek Franchise (or in Dreamworks as many say) he is also a PERSON.
Someone with a code of honor, morals, opinions, beliefs, etc.
Returning to the question "How can he bear all of that?" taking into account he is no longer an inevitable force, but a character of his own.
The answer is something you may relate to, and that is: Creativity and escapism.
To be the embodiment of Death, the guy is a very creative fella.
First of all, his design. I heard many people saying here and in Twitter that his design is something they would come up in their edgy, teen years of drawing their first fursona.
Guess what? They are right, the wolf form is someone's fursona. It's DEATH'S fursona. He clearly came up with this badass, piercing canine form to blend with the Fairy Tale Land assuming the form of the "Big Bad Wolf". He most likely had other forms he designed over the centuries and was able to present as them like if he were on a role play game in the living world.
His sickles? The weapon of choice with the little crossed cats on it to have a bigger effect of terror for Puss? Those who can become knuckles and join to create a scythe? Those are his creation, probably after thinking it for a while and writing all of those functions on a paper.
The way he presents himself? In the bar? The coins in his eyes as a "watching you" sign while being a cool reference to the Ferryman of souls? He transforming Perrito's forest into the background of a skull? The chilling reveal at the Cave of Lost Souls? The fire ring? It was all him.
As for the escapism part...
When the world becomes too heavy to deal with as real life issues tend to make us feel bad, depressed, angry... we tend to escape it somewhere. And in our time the common place would be the internet as in webpages or comics, stories, etc.
But what has to do with Death Wolf you may ask?
Well, while he would NEVER be able to escape his job entirely, he can have moments where he can enjoy a good hunt of people who don't appreciate life, like the whole plot of the Puss in Boots sequel could demostrate.
He managed to have a little time outside his eternal routine to chase an arrogant cat who took life for granted. He enjoyed it, it was thrilling, it was exciting.
It was a way to escape a monotonous, grim "life", if just for a short moment.
So, when the chase ended as his prey no longer feared him and now was ready to fight for his last life, the wolf retreats, happy for Puss' character development but resigned because he once again had to return to "The Eternal Duty"
And that's not even counting all the times Jack "I'm dead inside" Horner had to interrupt Lobo's hunt and remind him of his job even in his "spare time"
Death knew the chase had to end eventually, but he didn't want it to end.
He didn't want to return to his own world
And if we look at Death like that, then he is probably one of the most relatable characters Dreamworks has ever make.
In the Shrek Franchise:
Monsters can be loved
Princesses don't have to fit the perfect standards of beauty
Handsome guys can be possesive jerks
Love at first sight doesn't work like one would think
Happily ever afters had to be built and not just obtain them with magic
And Death is the most creative and "full of life" being in the world
Because he would absolutely go crazy with his life/work if he wasn't.
Because in a world of Kings, Poets and Soldiers, he's the Supreme King
And he's also a perky goth but none of you are ready for that conversation.
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