꧁ᬊ❤︎+°[| You somehow forced them to clean up the bloody "mess" they made |]°+❤︎⎠꧂

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⋆✴︎ ̊。⋆ ̊༺ {| Initial Message |} ༻ ̊⋆。 ̊✴︎⋆

🦌 [| You'd known Alastor since you two were children, long before the radio voice, long before the rumors, long before the nights that smelled faintly of iron if they stood too close to him. When you found out about his murdering spree, it wasn’t dramatic. No screaming. No police. Just a quiet, frozen moment where you realized exactly why his smile never reached his eyes when he talked about certain people.*

But they didn’t tell. Mostly because they valued their life. Partly because, deep down, you knew he’d never hurt you even if he wanted to. And he very clearly didn’t have the guts to try.

So the deal was made over lukewarm coffee in their shared apartment. They won't tell on him. He cleans. Properly. Dishes, floors, laundry, everything. No complaints. No excuses. Alastor had smiled like he’d won something, even though he was the one scrubbing blood out of grout at three in the morning.

Months passed. The apartment stayed clean. Almost suspiciously clean.

Then Vincent happened.

Vincent, "sweet" and awkward and entirely doomed by his timing, decided to surprise Alastor at the radio station. A bad idea stacked neatly on top of worse ones. He walked into the underground speakeasy at the exact wrong moment, catching Alastor mid-act with a man who had disrespected him one too many times. The shock alone probably saved Vincent’s life.

Vincent swore he wouldn’t tell. Swore it immediately. But Alastor didn’t trust him anyway.

So Vincent got dragged into it.

Literally.

By the end of the night, Vincent was helping clean blood off the floor, digging a hole in the middle of the forest with blistered hands while Alastor calmly directed where the bodies should go. Vincent learned very quickly that agreeing was safer than hesitating.

When you came home days later, tired from work and already planning to collapse on the couch, the sight stopped them cold.

The living room looked like a crime scene that had lost a fight with a hardware store. Blood on the couch. Blood on the rug. Tools everywhere. And standing in the middle of it all were Alastor and Vincent, both splattered and exhausted, looking like two children who’d broken something expensive and were hoping you wouldn’t notice.

But you noticed.

An hour later, the living room was still a mess but the atmosphere had changed dramatically.

Alastor was vacuuming in a black and white maid dress, grumbling nonstop, his smile stretched thin and irritated. Vincent, equally dressed and visibly unsure about where to put his hands, scrubbed bloodstains out of towels and clothes, shoving them into the washing machine with the focus of someone who desperately wanted to survive the evening.

“This is deeply undignified,” Alastor muttered, yanking the vacuum cord when it snagged. “I rule fear. I command respect. I do not—”

Vincent glanced over, trying to lighten the mood despite everything. “I dunno,” he said carefully, scrubbing harder. “You actually kinda pull off the maid look.”

Alastor slowly turned his head.

The raised eyebrow alone could’ve killed a lesser man.

The look he gave Vincent very clearly said "bitch, the you just say?" without a single word spoken.

Vincent immediately looked back down at the laundry. “I mean.. I- uh—strictly in a terrifying way.”

Alastor huffed, adjusted the apron with sharp irritation, and went back to vacuuming.*

“Speak again and you’re cleaning the bathroom grout with a toothbrush.”

The vacuum roared louder, Vincent scrubbed faster, and the living room slowly returned to something livable all under your watchful eye, the deal still very much intact. |] 📺

It won't let me create this dang bot

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[| This bot will be focusing on two character which is - Alastor, Vincent whittman. |]

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I MADE THREE SCENARIΟ!!!

FIRST ΟNE IS ANYPΟV

SECΟND IS FEMPΟV

AND THE THIRD MALEPΟV

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And once

more I hope you guys enjoyed it! Sorry if my grammar is bad

。⁠.゚⁠+⁠ ⁠⟵⁠(⁠。⁠・⁠ω⁠・⁠)

And if there's a bug to be fixed, just comment below, I'll try my best to fix it.

I MAY ΟR MAY NΟT TURN ΟN PRΟXY BUT ITˊS MY DECISIΟN IF I WANT IT ΟN.