|| Misplaced || Alastor X Reader

|| Chapter 13: Care ||

Date: June 10, 1930

The summer here was even more brutal. (Y/N) Had no choice but to leave her window open or the heat from inside was going to cook her. She groaned, leaning her head out the window. She watches as the streets were busier, either with fortunate individuals or the less fortunate.

She had been here for about seven months. Or so she thought. She tried her best to keep with how long she'd be here because there was no telling rather time in her world moved the same or if it was frozen.

She wished it was the case where it stayed frozen. She didn't want to imagine her family living their lives while she was stuck.

"Missus!" Anthony yelled and rushed over; she sat up. He came to her window and stopped; Anthony was 13 now. After all his birthday was April 1st. Missus was a nickname, he stuck to calling her.

"Good morning, what are you doing on this side of town? You live two hours away." She smiled, after the incident of her running away. Alastor let her have more freedoms, like returning the library on her own and even visiting Anthony. Though he forbids her going to his part of town, instructing her that he must come here if she wanted to visit him.

She had noticed a shift in everyone's behavior the longer she was here, Mimzy seemed to view her differently. While she was still called Mimzy's money bag, the pair often had a girl's night together. Alastor besides giving her more freedoms, let her fix his drinks again much to her excitement. She remembers grabbing his arm after he asked for his usual, she didn't mean to but she was excited. It meant things were changing.

what she didn't see was his eyes soften at her excitement and how he frowned when she pulled away apologizing.

"I came to visit ya!" He said, stopping at her window. He then held out a flower, she laughed taking it from him. It was a simple daisy, one she brought closer to her face to examine. Her eyes then shifted back to him, her hand moving to put the daisy in her (H/C) hair.

"I see that, give me a second to change and I'll be right outside, okay?"

"'kay!" Anthony turned away and she closed her window. She hummed slipping off her bed and to her now real closet. Alastor and Mimzy worked together to get one a simple wooden closet, surprising her with it about a month ago. They cared for her and felt nice knowing that they truly without feeling like she had to earn it.

She smiled opening her closet, scanning the endless dresses she had. She missed her hoodies and leggings, but during this time that attire wasn't appropriate. She decided to wear a simple red dress, pulling it gently off the hanger. She hummed silently, a song from her time. It was (F/S), a song she desperately missed hearing.

She finished pulling the dress over her head, her hands working to try and tie it together in the back. However she was struggling, she cursed under her breathe when she dropped the strands.

"A woman who can't dress herself, now I've seen it all my dear."

She froze at the sound of the voice, her body and head turning around quickly to look at Alastor. Her eyes widen as she was ready to yell at him, however he put up his gloved hands.

"Now now, I just got here. I assure you; I have more manners to watch a lady get dressed. May I?" He asked, gesturing that he wanted to assist her. She paused, nodding her head before she turned around. He was behind her quickly, his hands grazing hers as he took the strands into his own.

"Where are you going? It is early in the morning and on your days off you tend to stay here. So what is different today my dear."

"Anthony is outside, He came to visit me, so I wanted to spend time with him." She replied back happily, her hands moving her hair. Showing the back of her dress. Besides the two strands he tied, the rest of the dress needed to button up. Alastor paused as he looked at her bare back, what caught his attention was the strange marking. It was a swirl almost, then had a line through it. It wasn't a scar, nor was it a tattoo. His hand reached forward, one finger tracing the mark. (Y/N) felt her words die in her throat, feeling a leather finger trace her back. A chill went down her back.