♤♡ CLOWN ◇♧

Alastor was a charming young man, he had to be to get to the top, after all!

He was known for his dazzling smile, and his ability to hide any emotion behind it.

He wasn't the kind of man to be charmed; he charmed people.

Well, until he met you.

He was at a speakeasy, chatting idly with Mimzy, when he saw you.

Stood in a corner, wearing a simple yet stunning red dress, simply taking in the crowd.

Alastor's speech faltered, actually faltered! And when Mimzy followed his gaze, she understood why.

You felt the gaze on the side of your neck and turned, facing him head on for the first time that evening.

You waved, a simple, cautious greeting, and Alastor snapped back to reality.

Without a word to Mimzy, he was leaving her side and introducing himself.

"My name is Alastor, darling. It's a pleasure to be meeting you, truly. What might your name be?"

You introduce yourself, and he repeats your name carefully, like it's sacred.

You spend the rest of the night talking idly. The first time he makes you laugh, he cataloges the sound. He's determined to be the only reason you make it from now on.

By the end of the night, he walks you home like the gentlemen he is.

You thank him with a gentle kiss on the cheek, and a promise to meet again this time next week.

Before he leaves, he turns back to face you.

"You look absolutely stunning in red, my dear. I just thought you should know."

The next time the two of you meet, you're covered in red again.

The day before he was meant to woo you and take you to a local diner, he got into a little bit of a scuffle.

As he was disposing of the evidence of aforementioned scuffle, he hears a branch crack in the distance. He pauses, listening.

Then, he sees it: a somewhat familiar figure, dragging a man much bulkier (and much less alive) than yourself into the marshlands.

You look up in surprise, the moonlight illuminating your eyes in a way Alastor decided was more beautiful than the moon itself.

Eyes wide, cataloging the situation carefully, you looked at the body he was carrying and then down at yourself, covered in blood.

Dropping your victim onto the ground with a soft thud, you greeted Alastor with the same gentle wave you had nights prior.

His smile widened ever so slightly, a manic look in his eyes.

Sir Pentious (Pendleton)

So... he doesn't go outside

This is canon

But of course you've heard of him before

The recluse inventor whose visits to the town are few and far between

Whose lights can be seen flickering into the late hours of the night

You admire him from afar, the mystery of it all your own personal guilty pleasure

Unbeknownst to you, your curiosity isn't quite as one sided as you thought it was.

It started out innocently enough

Sir Pendleton was taking a break from his newest project, looking out his window at the town he hadn't visited in the flesh in weeks, when he saw you.

The most stunning, charming person he'd ever seen in his life

You weren't doing anything extraordinary, simply taking a shortcut through the back alley to make the walk to the local farmers market a little shorter

But he couldn't help himself. He was enamored.

He would memorize your schedules and paths, making sure to always be perched at his window when you would walk by.

A little voice in the back of his mind told him he was being a creep, but he told that voice to shut up.

After all, he wasn't watching you to hurt you. God no, never to hurt you.

He just liked admiring you from afar, wishing he could be brave enough to properly meet you, and not just watch you through a pane of glass from two stories up.

Then, he saw the first murder.

It terrified him, guilt and fear seeping into his bones.

Nonetheless, he stayed quiet. He watched two more happen before a terrifying thought occurred to him.

What if you were next?

That thought finally pushed him over the edge, and he knew what he had to do.

He timed his next garbage take out with one of the many times you consistently passed through his alley.

Seeing you up close was almost enough to deter him, you were even more stunning up close.

You noticed the shy expression on his face, and you smiled at him. He knew from that moment on he'd do anything to see that smile again.

"Hello! I'm Y/N. You are?"

"Me, why um, I am Pir Sendleton. I mean- Sir Pendleton!"

You giggled, a light, airy sound, and he almost fainted. He watched you walk away, like he had so many times before, but this time he knew with a certainty: if soulmates existed, you were his.

Alastor

Living as a creole man in New Orleans in the 1920s, Alastor was somewhat used to being treated poorly by those around him.

That didn't make him any less likely to kill them for it, but he was used to it nonetheless.

That's why he wasn't all that surprised when an older gentlemen dismissed his complaints after spilling wine on Alastor's new shirt.

Just as he was about to plan how to get this man alone to take care of his problem, someone beat him to the punch... sort of.

"Dad, apologize to this young man at once!"

Alastor's eyes widened ever so slightly, his smile remaining in place.

It took a great deal to surprise the Radio Host, but you did it easily.

This selfish and uncaring man had raised a child into a caring adult who was willing to confront him on behalf of a stranger... with a different skin tone at that.

It intrigued him. The man gave a begrudging apology, one Alastor believed not a word of, and moved on.

He expected you to do so as well, but you stayed. You smiled at him, a genuine smile, not a half grimace or a pitiful look, but a genuine smile.

"I'm Y/N. Sorry about my dad, he's a pompous prick sometimes."

He looked into your eyes as you spoke, his smile never faltering, but softening ever so slightly.

He couldn't explain it. He was a killer, a monster, but he felt the need to protect you from the world: from people like him.

His mind swirled with thoughts and emotions, but he refused to let them show.

"The name is Alastor! It's a pleasure to be meeting you darling, quite the pleasure."

And for once, he meant it.

Vox (Vincent Whittman)

Vincent only focused on one thing: climbing the ranks to get to the top.

So, naturally, it would make absolutely no sense for him to pay any attention to a mere secretary.

Yet, he couldn't help himself.

He didn't know what it was. The way you chewed on your pen when you were deep in thought, the way your left eyebrow would raise ever so slightly when a meeting was starting to run on too long, the way you would bite your bottom lip to physically stop yourself from retorting when a higher up would make a stupid comment.

In fact, there were too many things he noticed about you to properly pinpoint what it was that made you so appealing to the up and coming TV host

So instead he watched from the sidelines, cataloging every response you had.

When you'd stifle a laugh at a pun he made while on the air? He'd stay up writing a dozen more puns just like it to use for the next month.

You would offhandedly compliment the way he did his hair one day, and he'd wear it like that for the rest of the year.

It all came to a head when you'd left a folder behind on your desk.

You cursed under you breath when you realized, driving back to the office.

You unlocked the backdoor, walked into the studio expecting it to be empty, but instead you saw Vincent and your boss, the one who had made a lot of crude and inappropriate jokes at your suspense, dancing?

Upon further inspection, you would notice the man had his throat slit, and was gushing blood onto Vincent. You let out a small gasp.

Vincent's gaze shot up, and he let out a small curse.

He knew this would happen one day. One day you'd get too close, see what he'd done, and he would have to end you too.

For the first time, he felt nauseated at the thought of having to end a life.

That is, until you walked right past him, picked the folder off your desk, and walked back to the door. You paused for a moment, speaking over your shoulder.

"You should wear red more often. It brings out your eyes."

And then you left, and Vincent was left alone again. He smiled, chuckling to himself, cheeks flushed red.

"Oh, Y/N... you're gonna be the death of me."