Alastor X Female Deer Demon Reader (Rewritten)

Obsession

Alastor's P.O.V.

Morning broke over the hotel like a dull, reluctant sigh. The faint light filtered through the curtains, casting long shadows across the room, but it did little to dispel the heavy weight pressing down on my chest. I sat up in bed, the creaking of the old frame echoing through the silence as I rubbed the remnants of restless sleep from my eyes.

It was all too clear that sleep had eluded me, not because of the usual mischief or late-night broadcasts, but because of the incessant thoughts of Y/n that had taken root in my mind. It felt like a shadow had crept in, darkening my thoughts, gnawing at the edges of my sanity. I was unused to this level of distraction-this fevered obsession. It was a feeling I hadn't truly encountered in decades, a volatile mix of desire and desperation that left me feeling... off-kilter.

I swung my legs over the side of the bed, forcing myself to stand. My reflection in the cracked mirror revealed dark circles under my eyes, and my usually pristine attire felt oddly askew. I straightened my jacket and adjusted my tie with a practiced precision, all the while mentally scolding myself for letting this infatuation seep into my being.

How pathetic it was, really. I, the infamous Radio Demon, reduced to a lovesick fool pining over a mere mortal-no, a fellow demon-who had somehow infiltrated my carefully curated existence. I would kill to have Y/n by my side, to have them understand the depths of my desire, and yet here I was, feeling more vulnerable than I had in what felt like, eons.

As I descended the winding staircase, I could already hear the bustle of morning activity below. The hotel was alive, but it felt grating against my current mood. I could hear Charlie's cheerful laughter mingling with Husk's gruff replies, while Nifty flitted about like an over-caffeinated hummingbird, tidying and cleaning as though her very existence depended on it.

But it was the absence of Y/n that was most keenly felt. It twisted something inside me-an irritation that simmered just below the surface. How dare they make me feel this way?

When I entered the dining area, my entrance did little to stir the others. The low murmur of conversation continued, and I let my gaze drift around the room, searching for that familiar face. They were not there. The realization sent a pulse of annoyance racing through me.

"Alastor!" Charlie exclaimed, her enthusiasm a bit too bright for my mood. "Good morning! Did you sleep well?"

Her question felt like a taunt. I gave her my usual smile, though it felt strained. "Oh, simply delightful, dear. Dreamed of sugar plums and sweet delights," I replied, my voice smooth, even as the tension in my chest tightened.

A brow arched over Vaggie's expression, a knowing look that only heightened my irritation. "You look... well, not your usual self," she remarked, her tone laced with skepticism.

I shot her a glare, one that could send a lesser demon scurrying away, but she merely held my gaze, unimpressed. "Must be the weather," I replied, forcing a chuckle. "One can't always expect to be at their best in Hell, after all."

Husk snorted from the corner, and I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks. Damn it all!

"Right. That's why you look like you just crawled out of the abyss," he shot back, the corners of his mouth twitching in a smirk.

"Very funny," I snapped, irritation sparking in my voice.

I moved to pour myself a cup of coffee, hoping to drown out the prying eyes of my companions. They didn't understand-none of them did-what it was like to feel this raw, consuming need. To be so close to breaking the veneer of my carefully constructed facade.

As the rich aroma filled the air, I took a deep breath, steeling myself against the rising tide of emotions. I couldn't afford to be seen as weak, not in this place, not among these demons. But the truth was that I felt more exposed than I ever had in my existence.