"Alastor, please come sit back down..."
"Stupid... Careless..." he muttered.
Pacing about -albeit, rather shakily; Alastor was on his feet when he should have been taking it easy. He was still recovering. And although he was making some progress, he was still very weak; and still healing many internal injuries. For crying out loud, he still had an IV tube connected to his arm. The damn pole following him each time the tube tugged on it.
They'd lessened putting bandages on the burns on his back a few days ago when they appeared to be healed enough. And now with him standing up -he only wore loose fitting pants, at the moment- you could see the skin tissue becoming scars.
He already had several scars scattered along his body, but these were different... You couldn't help but wince at the thought of what they looked like before they started healing.
Funnily enough, in a sordid kind of way, the scars from where he was actually impaled were fairly faint. Both his front and back side where the spear went through were stitched together flawlessly. The only reason you could spot them was because the color of the scar was still dark in color.
A couple days had passed since he finally showed signs of lucidity.
By now, he was remembering... just about everything.
Being captured and taken by Vox after being 'caught' in your apartment. Fighting him, feeling so weak and so hungry... He cursed himself for that.
And all he felt as of late was rage.
Relieved, still, he was that you were virtually unharmed and by his side. But once the memories set in from all that had happened between him and Vox, his emotions became closer to that of... Anger.
Feeling violated, in a sense.
He shouldn't have been surprised that nothing in that apartment was a secret. He really shouldn't have. Maybe, he wasn't surprised... Rather just hoping he would have been wrong.
Wasn't any less infuriating.
He felt disgusted, and seethed with inferiority when he found out his near-death experience went viral all across Hell. Which otherwise was only a small bruise to the ego, but... Being an attack from Vox and the other V's-... Needless to say, he didn't appreciate it very much.
Above all, the hardest feeling to digest: he felt ashamed. After all was said and done, he let the mask fall... He was vulnerable.
In front of the one person he dared to never let get under his skin again.
He felt pathetic... He didn't want to be weak in front of his rival again...
...And he failed....
"Alastor?" You tried again.
"When I get my hands on him, I'll-"
"You're not getting your hands on anybody while you're still recovering." You said firmly. "Unless you wanna be right back in those bandages."
POP
The lights flickered in and out before shutting off with an audible noise. No doubt spurred from your lovers wrath.
You winced, scooting toward the edge of your seat as you watched wearily what he was going to do. You knew his anger wasn't directed at you, but you couldn't help but feel startled. Especially after decades of Vic's heavy-handed treatment for so long... Even though you knew Alastor would never hurt you.
Funny how trauma works like that.
"I h̷̝͆̓͗͂̒ä̴̢͍̖̳̼̺̤͒̉̿̿͐̏̊ te him..." he muttered.
YOU ARE READING
Priceless (Alastor X Reader)
Fanfiction"You must be her." The gentleman in the center said. His already present smile widening into a toothy grin as he tipped his hat to you. "Enchantée." You recognized his voice as the man who had been doing most of the talking. "Who are you?" You choke...
