Old No.7 | An Alastor x Reader Story

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Slipping my pistol into the holster hidden within my coat, I ran over the plan in my mind one more time. We were set to pick up the protection insurance tonight and there was a certain energy in the air. It was supposed to be simple. Money in exchange for guns and we would part ways. Of course, I always planned for the worst possible scenario. 

Lester and five other burly sinners stood around the cars we were to take, smoking and making small talk. All chatter ceased when I appeared, the mission had begun. 

There is a certain tenseness when we go on missions like this. Everyone expects the worse from everyone else, and fingers are only a hairs breath away from their trigger. I myself was on autopilot, aware of everyone's movements, saying what only needed to be said. The faces blurred together and before I knew it, we were back in the car without any additional holes. 

Breathing a sigh of relief, I resisted the urge to lean my head back against the seat. These past few days had put me through the wringer and I wanted to crawl into bed and never leave it again. Between the protection insurance, regular business, and Alastor...I needed a break.