Let The Radio Play《 Alastor x Reader 》

One rusted metal wrung linked to the next,and to the next, and to the next. Swaying slowly. Together they make an ominous, methodical rendition to their purpose as the wrungs shift.. metal sliding against metal before turning over with a satisfying 'click'.

The reddened hue of daylight in hell cannot penetrate the expanse of the vast room, though it isn't without a light. A soft blue glow resonates near a wall, illuminating the hardwood flooring, washing up the wall covered in tufted maroon velvet. The room is laid out with sparse living room furniture. A long sectional sofa accompanied with side tables and an intricately carved wooden coffee table unusually long. It runs most of the length of the sectional sofa.

Seemingly out of place, two thick metal chains hang taunt in a V-shape where its point is the source of light and disappearing into the darkness up towards the ceiling.

"Nnnngh... whe-where... am I.."

The light source moves, lifting, casting shadows off of the walls and furniture as it moves. Vibrant rainbow colors flicker and bend across a fractured television screen, streaking in lines out from the broken places to the edges of the screen. The image of two eyes, faded and broken up by the streaks blink into existence on the screen. They glitch in and out before stabilizing for a brief moment then disappearing again and the screen lowers back down to its original position.

----

What a mess.

Screams mix with laughter drowning out the whispers of guidance as Alastor's shattered mentality is vying for which version is going to retain control. His fingers press into y/n's shoulders, rising in their intensity the harder he digs for an answer. She shifts uncomfortably under the pressure, trying to turn to face him but he holds her in place. He doesn't want to be seen. Especially right now.

Not without his smile.

《Alastor POV》

One image keeps playing back in my mind causing one singular emotion to rise to the top of the rest: desperation.

As she turns around to look back at me, defiant and dishevelled, its the look in her eyes that haunts me. Dress ripped and breathing heavy, my microphone in her small hand.

The vibrancy in her eyes eroded away and buried deep beneath their emerald oceans. Like a funeral I was not invited to, she buried that divinity. I need to find a way to quell the raging storm and restore that curiousity... piece together her vibrancy again.

The thought is far more important to me than her silly quest for companionship.

The voices inside my head continue to whisper their desperate pleas, for the first time since this little fox has come into my life that they all ring in unison for their intent.

"Alastor?" She whispers, shifting uncomfortably under the weight of my grasp. Its enough to snap me back into the moment.

Releasing the pressure off of her shoulders she tries to turn to face me. I slide my left hand down her shoulder and across her collarbone tracing my fingers across the bone softly and leveraging my elbow into her left shoulder when my hand comes to rest on her right arm. Its effective in keeping her facing forward while my right hand moves down her right arm.

I can feel the conflict within her, part of her unwilling to trust in me while the other part eases the tension in her body. My right hand reaches hers and the microphone stand still clenched in her fist. I wrap my fingers around the microphone stand and gently pull, sliding the metal out the top and toss it aside, disappearing before it hits the floor.

Y/n reaches up with her now freed right hand but I quickly reclaim it with mine.

"I believe you have confused a lust for prey for another sin, my dear." My voice falls flat, refocusing. A weak smile tugs at the corners of my mouth as I lean into her ear. "I do, however, owe you a debt for which I must repay."