The Fox and the Hunter | Alastor x reader |

~Angelic~

You wake to a good breakfast, spend hours talking to Alastor, reading, or playing some kind of card game. You get him to try playing BS with you. It does not end well. You win 9 of ten rounds. You think he dislikes how hard it is to read you. You enjoy that. His face when he misreads you each time, and the satisfaction when he got it right. It's... cute.

Dinner comes, and you stare at your plate with a frown. "The poor deer."

You whine pushing the plate. He rolls his eyes, shaking his head.

"Come now darling, one little bite? I do have some form of sweet in my fridge. It is a bit old, but it is there! Cake from something I was dragged to by... a friend."

You pan a hand over your heart and the other over your forehead. You swing your body so you lean over the couch like a damsel. "Oh, how could such a gentleman prey upon a lady's adoration for sweets like this? You are all cruel! Oh so cruel!"

He watches this new display with fascination. Dramatics are not uncommon, but you do it with such sarcasm, that he finds it far more entertaining than the dames who use it for attention. You here are mocking him. It's odd to see. "Then I suppose I shall help myself to your serving of both." A lie. He isn't one for sweets. It is why that vile cake is still in his fridge.

The way you sit up with a glare and snatch the plate, carving into the "venison" has him rolling with laughter. He makes a mental note that you are a very big sweets person. Why he makes the note he isn't too sure. He's sure he can use it at some point.

The conflicted expression you make staring at the "dead deer parts" is just splendid.

It's even better when your eyes give the familiar glow of adoration. He's one hell of a cook. Of course, you like it. He's certainly convinced he could cook up anything, and you'll find yourself enjoying it.

He watches you set your fork down after giving him his one bite and stare, trying not to devour as you do. He mentally gives you five seconds. On cue, you're eating it while muttering apologies to the deer. Ha, if only it was what you were eating. He finds this so entertaining. You suspect nothing. Several days now, and you have not suspected a... small change to your palette.

"Cake. now."

"How demanding!" He takes your empty plate to the kitchen and drops the cake before you moments later. "I warn you, it is not me who made this."

He watches you shrug and devour the sweet. You seem satisfied.

You two talk again for some time until you get to sleep.

You wake up that night sick to your stomach. He must be the lightest sleeper you have ever met. You swear you were heaving quietly in the kitchen wastebasket. You did not have time to hobble to the restroom. You don't know if it's the cake or the deer. You just know you are sick. So... so fucking stick.

Alastor stares for a bit. Suppose he rushed this then. You consumed all his delicacies easily, but your heaving form is well... a disappointment. Though it could be the cake. That was an awful thing. "May I approach?"

Your nod is followed by another heave. He pulls your hair back for you, keeping it from becoming any more disastrous than it is. He should help you get into the shower tomorrow. Your leg should be fine.

"If you're fine, then it was the cake." You whine holding your stomach. After a few more solid heaves, you are sure there is nothing left in your stomach. He offers you a cloth napkin, and you take it gratefully. "Sorry."

"Nothing to apologize for." Certainly not even if it was disgusting. It is his fault for not being more careful about your innocent stomach.

He makes sure you are settled before he goes off again.