• 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐲'𝐬 𝐓𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐂𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 • Alastor x Reader

𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧.

You had no idea how much time had passed with you just staring at Alastor, trying not to break down and sob in front of him, your brows knitting together while your lip quivered. The brunette noticed, or at least you thought he did, and he engulfed your form into a hug, burying his nose into your hair. Your body ached from the wounds born into your flesh, a whimper of pain leaking out of your throat when the man squeezed you. He had evidently heard the cry, almost immediately releasing you from his grasp and holding your shoulders while a look of worry settled behind his eyes.

"What happened? Did I hurt you?" he queried, grasping both sides of your face in his hands while he examined you for injuries. You stepped away from him, stopping his inspection.

"N-no, I'm alright." Alastor tilted his head, cautiously reaching his hand out to encase yours in it. Alastor, Zandor warned, but he still took your hand, ignoring the Loa's hisses of disgust. "(Y/n), what's wrong?" he pressed, pulling you close to his warmth. Such a comforting warmth to be near, there was no other way to describe it. He made you feel so safe, no matter what the circumstances. "I'm alright, I promise." The radio host was unconvinced, his eyes narrowing. Zandor, make yourself useful. Is she hurt? Alastor demanded the spirit.

A grim sigh sounded from his friend. Fine. With that, Zandor fell silent, only the murmurs and occasional shriek resonating within the walls of his mind. The Loa never slept. They always cried out. They always had something to say. They never let Alastor rest easy. Fortunately for him, he developed an immunity to their wails and managed to block them out most of the time. She's bleeding, Zandor growled after a long moment of solitude. Alarmed, the brunette let go of your hand and cupped his palms around your shoulders again.

"You're bleeding," he whispered, leading you to your couch after he closed the front door. Your limbs froze in shock, "How did you-?"
"Where?" the man cut you off, seating you while he crouched down so he could be eye-level with you. When you didn't respond, he began searching on his own, starting by what was exposed and checking your neck and your arms, which were clear.

"Take off your shirt," he ordered, your face contorting into one of disgust. "Alastor, that isn't very appropriate," you retorted, but he wasn't exactly in the mood. Once more, Alastor grumbled, "Take it off; I need to make sure you're okay." Your eyes moved away from his as you reluctantly removed it from your body, lifting your arms up so you could slip it off. Blood was smeared all over the inside of the white fabric and your chest wasn't any better, the crimson fluids trickling down your abdomen, turning a deep brown and black as it began to dry.

"Jesus," your friend muttered, carefully tracing his fingers down a long wound leading from beneath your bra and to your stomach. Of course that wasn't the only mark he saw, there were plenty, that one just happened to be one of the longest. "Who did this to you?" Alastor raised his head to look at you, ignoring the fact that your face was red. "I... I can't say..."
"Tell me, now," he stood to his full height, towering over you, his gaze filled with hatred for the one who could have possibly done this.

You cowered; actually cowered. Your body curled into a ball as you looked up at Alastor with fear, shaking in the slightest. "Will you hurt me if I don't?" The man stopped, feeling his chest twist around his heart. He'd never laid a hand on you in a way that was meant to bring harm upon you, so what made you think he would do such a thing now?

"What? No, of course not, my dear," he dropped back down so he was at your height, taking both of your hands in his. "I just want to make sure they can't hurt you again. Because this," Alastor gestured to your bruised and sore body, "this is not okay. I don't want you being in harmful relationships." Relationships? Does he think-? Oh...

"It's not like that, Alastor! I don't have a lover," you said truthfully, letting yourself unroll from the ball you had been curled in. "I... I know his name though." This was risky territory, you knew that better than anyone, but Damien wouldn't need to find out about this. He wasn't going to. Just like how Alastor wasn't going to find out about your status.