Haunted (Alastor X Reader)

Chapter 51

(A/n: This isn't quite what I planned on writing when I left off on the last chapter, but I don't hate how it came out either. Sometimes I let the characters kinda take over and dictate the chapters, and well, this is what Al wanted me to write.)

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"You're so innocent, darling..."

"I'm not." You said numbly.

"But you are... Your wrath, it hasn't spoiled you yet... You aren't corrupted."

"You're afraid a little death will make me rotten?" You asked.

"I'm afraid... Hell is going to ruin you..."

"Will you still love me? If Hell tarnishes my goodness streak... And I'm not such a sweetheart anymore?"

"Darling, you will always be my sweetheart."

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The bed was cold in place of you when Alastor rolled over to hold you. Blinking his tired eyes and rubbing the grogginess away as they adjusted to the pale hint of sunlight just peaking through your curtain. A dark blueish glow cascaded into your room, barely illuminating the sheets beside him. It was barely morning.

"My love?" He murmured. Scanning the room for a trace of you.

He yawned and sat up from the bed and looked around. Not seeing you in the room or in the bathroom he shrugged and assumed you were downstairs. He lazily snapped his fingers, summing a pair of pajamas pants and not even bothering to adjust the waistband; just letting them hang low on his hips as he got up to go brush his teeth.

His mind tiredly reeled over the events of the last 24 hours, and felt emotionally exhausted. Mostly on your behalf. His heart ached still from what happened, he felt a lingering sense of guilt. He wished he could have prevented something so traumatic from happening. He wished you never had to deal with knowing someone like your ex at all. But most of all he felt saddened that you were finally pushed to a point where you wanted to inflict harm upon your ex personally. Quite a change from the first night you met when you said you had no use for revenge.

But, he couldn't blame you.

While he didn't go through what you experienced exactly, he knows the anger and frustration you felt. And he understood it well. He knew what it was like to hate something so much that you wanted the sanctity of knowing it can't hurt you anymore.

And he wasn't going to stop you.

Rinsing and spitting into the sink, he then wiped his mouth and smiled at his reflection in the mirror. Not bothering with his hair or to summon a shirt for himself, he simply walked over and went to open the curtains in your room to let some light in. What little of it there was at the moment, anyway.

He peaked out of your bedroom window and saw you perched upon the back porch railing. Drinking coffee and smoking what appeared to be a joint and holding your favorite plushie under your arm as you sat there staring out into the yard. Your face was neutral, daydreamy and tired. Your hair was down and a little messy as well. He smiled gently at the sight of you, who hadn't noticed him staring.

He went downstairs to go feed the cat and then fixed himself a cup of coffee as well, then set outside to join you on the back porch.

The smell of dew and flowers beginning to bloom on the forest floor was enough to make Alastor want to go back inside and curl up back into bed. The air was comfortable, but had a crispy chill to it. Not so cold that it caused discomfort, but was almost comforting in a refreshing sort of way. You sat there listening to birds chirping as they were waking up, and crickets and frogs letting out their final calls before taking their turn for a slumber.