│Human! Alastor x Reader│
Ⓢⓨⓝⓞⓟⓢⓘⓢ: Alastor offers (Y/n) a job, and though they are hesitant, they accept.
Ⓝⓞⓣⓔⓢ: The reader is indicated to be biologically female as they will face certain challenges throughout this story due to the time period. Characters set in this will refer to the reader as she, but for the most part, it will be gender neutral. This is written to be platonic but will remain ambiguous. There may be inaccuracies to the time frame. This series may and will contain things such as sexism, classism, gender dysphoria, bullying, mentions of religion, and gore. Please read at your own risk.
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"Alastor. Charmed to meet you! I must say, this is an awful lot of stuff you have here. Mind if I ask what you are doing?" The man speaks with glee.
(Y/n) notes a shine in his eyes they couldn't quite decipher, and a feeling of uncertainty washes over them. Very few people have shown interest towards them willingly, as the locals have made sure to blacklist them due to their unorthodox behavior, and (Y/n) mentally barricades themself for where this interaction will lead to. Surely, it won't end well.
"Just working on an assignment," (Y/n) replies, cautiously watching as the man permits himself to sit at the table.
"One for learning then! What does one such as yourself want to be?" Alastor hums, looking over the covered surface with curiosity.
"I'm currently enrolled for journalism. Nothing too grand..."
"I see, I see. Do tell about this fascination you have with the Bayou Killer then? Surely, the college doesn't speak of such things in a mere literacy class," Alastor casually remarks as he takes up one of the cut-out articles that (Y/n) made notes on in his hand, "My, what interesting theories you have! Do you really think this murderer has a vendetta against ill-willed men?"
"That's none of your concern," (Y/n) snaps as they tear their work away from the stranger's hold. The man's smile twitches slightly, his stare intensifying on them for a moment. (Y/n) would've been intimated if it weren't for the immediate regret they felt pull at their heart. Alastor's arms fall into his lap, and the grin he wore before falls as he leans back. Were they truly so standoffish as Joanne claims?
"I apologize..." (Y/n) sighs out, "That was rude of me, and though I cannot excuse my terrible behavior, it's been an off day for me. Please pardon my actions."
"That's quite alright, my dear. I've had a few days in the ditch myself, but my mother always told me that if you want something to happen, act as if you already have it," Alastor reflects with the wiggle of his finger. "Nothing a little music can't help either! Instead of working one's finger to the bone, why don't you come dance with me?"
"That's very kind of you, but you wouldn't want to dance with me."
"Nonsense! If I didn't want to, I wouldn't have asked."
"If you want to go home with a broken toe, then by all means."
"How farcical of you," Alastor laughs, "I'd like to see you try!"
Alastor's temperament returns back to a mirthful one such as before, an ever-growing smile etched on his lips and waggish gleam casting from his eyes. His slim fingers tap against the glass he brought with him from the bar, sipping from the alcoholic beverage periodically as his gaze drifts over to the bustling scene of the dancefloor. (Y/n) watches too, as pretty girls with short furling dresses and babydoll curls gather with their friends to dance with boys who bought them one to many drinks. The laughter that bounces throughout the building suddenly becomes too much for (Y/n), and though Alastor sat just beside them, a staggering loneliness weighs heavy on them.
"Please don't let me keep you," (Y/n) mutters, returning their focus back on the papers laid out in front of them. Not like they had the motivation to work now, but it was the only thing that would keep their mind from wandering too far. Scribbling away once more, (Y/n) couldn't help but to be curious of a soft creaking coming closer to their side, and peek over to see Alastor's watchful regard reading over their writing. "What are you doing?"
"Mere curiosity is all, sweet. You need it in my line of work, but I suppose you would understand where I'm coming from, wouldn't you?"
"It's not my job to be curious, I just simply am."
"Is that so?" Alastor asks with a raise of his brow, "I would've assumed a clever woman such as yourself would have a high standing occupation to go with her wit."
"And that would be a first for me being called clever instead of imprudent," (Y/n) laughs, "Sadly, your assumption is mistaken. I guess people just don't see anything else besides my gender. I can't be smart like a man nor curious like a man can. How lucky for you."
"I could care less," Alastor answers, "All that matters is that I see potential, a potential I can guide."
"What could I possibly give you that won't bite you in retaliation?"
"You have no idea who I am, do you?" He grins somewhat diabolically, "What could society possibly say about you that would bring down the best radio host in city? Trust me, you aren't the only one who's name escapes disquieting tongues. From one interesting person to another, I persist that we join forces. Come work with me at that radio station."
"You come off awfully fast. I don't even know you!"
"You can't race time, but you can be quick with it! You need a job, do you not?"
"I'll think about it," (Y/n) remarks, "I'm still in school after all. I will have to see when and if my schedule permits it. You cannot control time either, you know?"
"I understand completely, my dear! Take all the time you need. My radio isn't going anywhere if I can help it!"
"There you are!" The familiar sound of (Y/n)'s mother calls out over the live music. The fringes of their mother's dress shine under the fluorescents like gold as she walks over to the table, an ecstatic red painted smile expressing how she felt. She looked absolutely stunning, (Y/n) thought. Her aging has always been graceful, like that of fine silk, and a small sense of pride fills them as they think back on Mimzy's praise. (Y/n) never saw themself as beautiful, always opting to hide away from attention as much as they could, but the similarities they had with their mother was something they always liked. "I was worried that you didn't show up."
"I would never disobey you, Ma." (Y/n) comments as their mother sits across from Alastor.
"I see you've made a friend!" Their mom's eyes twinkle as her attentiveness casts over to the man, "I'm Lorraine, (Y/n)'s mother. Pleasure to meet you!"
"The pleasure is all mine!" Alastor greets, "I must say, what an excellent performance you put on earlier! I suppose talent runs in the family?"
(Y/n)'s mother surveys him quizzically, pursing her lips in thought, before her eyes brighten.
"Did (Y/n) let you read her writings? Marvelous, isn't it? I don't know where she got her smarts from, but it surely wasn't me! I have to say though, she normally doesn't get along quick with strangers. What did you do to be so special?"
(Y/n)'s cheeks heat slightly as their mother peeks at them, a smirk on her face. They quickly collect their papers with a pout, glaring from the eulogize words their mom practically sang. "Don't call yourself dumb, Ma. You are anything but," (Y/n) grumbles, "The only reason Mister Alastor here read anything is because he allowed himself to without permission."
"You wound me!" Alastor cries, clasping his suit where his heart should be, "Your work merely fascinates me is all. I offered them a job, you know?"
"Really?" Lorraine exclaims with a gasp, "Oh, (Y/n)! That's wonderful! What will she be doing?"
"Helping me write manuscripts for my broadcast. If she says yes, that is."
"You must say yes, sweetheart! This is a miracle to you from God!" (Y/n)'s mother pleads as she take her child's hands in hers. "It may not be exactly what you want, but you've been given a chance."
"I've been called many things in my life, but God is a first." Alastor bombinates with a tilt of his head.
"Oh! My apologize, Mister Alastor!" their mom remarks, "Thank you for seeing good in my daughter!"
"Why do I feel like I don't have a choice here?" (Y/n) mutters, watching the two adults go back and forth in chatter. Their mother, charismatic as ever, goes off on a tangent about (Y/n)'s greatest strengths that could be useful in the workplace. Her face beams with absolute gratitude and support; it makes (Y/n) feel off about their previous cumbersome comments. Alastor nods along with their mother's insistent information, his head leaning casually against his closed fist.
A sense of mystery surrounds this man, (Y/n) notes cautiously. Though his demeaner was nothing short of friendly, his eyes held unknown intent. The edge of his smile quirks slightly as he continues listening to their mother, but the tapping of his foot shows a sense of urgency. (Y/n) continues observing the stranger, even when his eyes connect with theirs.
All their life, no one besides their mother showed such fervent interest in their activities. On many occasions, they were told that their insistence on bountiful knowledge would only lead them to be fruitless. No one in this city would've told this man good things about their progressive exertion, and it only made (Y/n) want to build up their walls even higher. Their mother wasn't oblivious to people's intentions and wickedness, however. She's had her fair share of snakes, and she knows when to spot one, even with her honey-like spirit. It caused a sense of unsureness within (Y/n)'s own perception; were the things that they heeded true, or was there an underlining of their insecurities seeping through? If their mother didn't raise any alarm of what she thought of Alastor, why should they?
"Can I help you with something?" Alastor calmly asks as his stare bores into (Y/n)'s.
"I was just wondering..." (Y/n) declares, "When would you like me to start?"
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(Y/n) vigorously taps their pencil against the desk, eyes glued to the hands ticking by on the clock above the professor's head. Time surely was testing (Y/n)'s patience today, as their history teacher had brought her lecture to a closing a few minutes ago, and opted the students to work on anything that needed to get done before it was officially time to leave. (Y/n), diligent as ever, made sure to be on top of their class assignments. There was really no reason for them to stay in class; however, the anxiety that bubbled underneath their skin prompted them to linger a little longer.
Very few students remain in the room, most taking the free time as a way of escape from their responsibilities. Though some moil over their own homework in silence, others gathered together leisurely in gossip. The boisterous laughter buzzed uncomfortably in (Y/n)'s ears like that of an unreachable itch, but the loudness of their own head distracted them more so.
With persistent persuasion from their mother after the encounter with Alastor, (Y/n) requested to start at the station the beginning of the upcoming week. The weekend went by before they could even process what they had accepted, and now that the afternoon of their first shift has presented itself in a cloudy manner, (Y/n)'s doubt sprouted in a messy briar of potency. But, the distraction of their own loathing couldn't even be dealt with in peace.
A sharp pain warms the back of (Y/n)'s head with great vehemence, as a strand of their hair is tugged on in an arbitrary manner. The audible hiss that escapes through their teeth causes an eruption of cackles behind them. (Y/n) swiftly turns to the obnoxious noise, icy vexation carrying their stare. Donald Raslo, a boy with slick auburn locks and a smile that would gain any clueless woman's trust, eyes (Y/n) with a look they could only describe as vile. His teeth tug at his bottom lip mischievously, hazel orbs casting over their body. An involuntary shutter of disgust travels down their spine as their fellow classmate reaches over to grab at their hair again.
"Don't touch me," (Y/n) growls in absolute rancor.
"I'm surprised you haven't just shaved it all off yet," Donald simply replies with a maniacal grin. "You know, since you want to be a man so bad."
"You are pathetic," (Y/n) responds coolly as they turn back in their seat to quickly gather their things. Another agonizing pull forces their head back as Donald watches from behind his thin-framed glasses.
"It's all just fun and games!" Donald chuckles, as if his insults were anything but cruel, "You get defensive so quickly. Relax a little, doll."
"What do you want?" (Y/n) bluntly asks, jerking the strand away that Donald curled with his finger.
"I was wondering if you would go to the dance with me. I've wanted to ask for a while now."
A scowl morphs onto (Y/n)'s face, and they rise from their sit. Anger boils throughout their body, their nails involuntarily digging at their palms. Without another word to the boy, (Y/n) excuses themself to their teacher, and flounces out of the room. The heels on their feet become unbearably heavy as they stalk throughout the halls, visibly shaking as the distant feeling of Donald's hand through their hair burns at their scalp. (Y/n) wanted to scrub their head raw as their discomfort taunts them.
The world around them spins, and tears catch at the edge of their eyes. Deep huffs of air exhale from (Y/n) as they try to calm down. They despised themself for letting such childish behavior bring them into such a vulnerable state, but the tightness in their chest was excruciating.
Sometimes, they wished that they weren't so different.
The smell of freshly bloomed marigolds ground (Y/n) back to reality as they push open an exit door of the school. The sky basks in a slate blue, caressing the earth in a rare coolness of spring. The wetness on their cheeks startles them; they hadn't realized they were crying. Wiping their cheeks with the sleeve of their overcoat, they settle themself on the pavement steps gliding down into town. They stare blankly ahead, a fixed frown on their face.
(Y/n) never let the bullying affect them too much, convincing themself that the others were too callow for their own good. They taught themself at a very young age to stifle their insecurities, and eventually, people would just leave you alone. (Y/n) isn't an emotionless robot, however. As hardened as they try to appear, wounds that are consistently probed at never truly heal.
"(Y/n)?"Joanne, small and quiet in tone, carefully settles herself down by them, sun hat in her petite white-gloved hands. Her eyebrows arch together in worry and a deep frown sits on her usually cheerful face. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," (Y/n) remarks as their eyes remain ahead. They subtly wipe at their cheeks again, letting out a deep sigh. "What do you need?"
"I wanted to apologize, for what I said to you before. It was very unbecoming of me. I'm sorry."
"Water under the bridge, Ann..."
"Good," Joanne says after a moment, "I couldn't live with my best friend being upset with me."
"I'm not petty by any means. The most I would've done is never talk to you again," (Y/n) snorts.
"You call that not being petty?" Joanne laughs, "You and I have different morals on what that looks like then! Seriously though, are we alright?"
"We will be, (Y/n) replies, "There's still a lot I have to think on."
"I understand... I heard that Donald asked you to the dance. You rejected him."
"I'm guessing he told you that. I'm still not accepting his offer, if that is why you are truly out here."
"I won't pressure you into dating someone you don't like. I know my fair share in that," Joanne reflects as she pinches at the fabric of her skirt delicately, "Will you at least think about going still? Even if you go alone, I'll be happy that you're there."
"You know I don't do good at socializing," (Y/n) answers, "It's best if I just stick to myself."
"Could I maybe convince you over coffee? The cafe should still be open."
"I won't be able to today. I have plans already," (Y/n) acknowledges as they stand. Casting their gaze over to the girl, a smirk cracks onto their solemn expression. "I might take you up on the offer at a later date though. Our last get-together ended kind of sour, after all."
"Sure, but why the sudden leave?" Joanne questions as she stands herself.
"Oh, (Y/n)! That's wonderful!" Joanne exclaims as she races to hug her friend. "Mind if I ask where?"
"A local radio station," (Y/n) simply remarks, rigidly patting Joanne on the back. Their friend pulls away soon after, hands firmly holding their shoulders and a big grin on her face.
"How long have been working there? Is that why you haven't been around?"
"Not exactly... I've been helping my Mom with her new job after my classes. That's where I met my boss actually; I start today."
"You'll have to tell me all of the details later! Promise you will!"
"I promise... Can you let me go now?"
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Wheels squeal to life as the bus (Y/n) took to the far edge of town starts up again. The ground beneath them rumbles as the trolley continues back to civilization, and (Y/n) begins to venture across the street where the treeline of the marsh begins.
A dirt road trails off into the forest, a black tin mailbox posted alongside it. Glancing at the scrapped piece of paper in their hands, (Y/n) read over the address Alastor hastily wrote down for them a few days before, and confirm this was the driveway to the radio station.
Leaves, thick like smoke, hover over (Y/n) in shadowed agglomerations, and sweat begins to bead across their forehead as the coolness of the day begins to heat up once more. The muggy atmosphere felt almost suffocating, but they continued onwards with tenacious intent. Though anxiety still roared within their heart in fast palpitations, they'd be damned to show up late.
The forest rang with muffled silence, the chirping of crickets seeming to echo but a distance. (Y/n) follows along the wooden fence that barricaded the road from the woodland's depths, and soon enough, a scrupulous house and rustic barn are revealed as the narrow path opens up into a field.
As (Y/n) walks up to the porch, confusion entwines in their thoughts as they quickly notice how vacant this station seemed to be. They knock on the screen door and wait a few moments with furrowed brows.
"There you are, dear!" The charismatic voice of Alastor discloses his presence, his never-changing smile lining his pearly whites with thin lines. "I hope your travels gave you no trouble."
"Your station is a long ways from the city. I almost thought I got off at the wrong place. Where are the others?" (Y/n) asks curiously as they walk down to meet him.
"The others?" Alastor questions.
"Surely you don't do everything yourself? Where are your other employees?"
"I don't need a whole group to do tasks I'm perfectly capable of doing myself," Alastor comments as he leads (Y/n) towards the barn with his hand on their upper back. "I will say though, I'm ecstatic to see how you work. I sure do hope you do not disappoint me."
"Me either..." (Y/n) mutters, malaise injecting itself once again into their nerves.
As they enter, (Y/n) notices rather quickly that this isn't a typical barn house, but instead, it has been renovated in Alastor's image. The area was spacious and quaint, organized in a way that aligned with Alastor's schedule. Sound panels lined the wall, a table adjacent to them equipped with a microphone and headphones. Paper cabinets were stationed in the far corner and a cork board pinned with different notes and articles hung above them. A lounge area was arranged near the center, couches patterned with red and black circling a low rising coffee table. Along with the dim bulb lanterns that dropped from the ceiling, the atmosphere was quite cozy.
"This isn't what I was expecting," (Y/n) honestly reports, watching as Alastor casually sits on one of the sofas. "I was imagining a more... Claustrophobic environment to say the least."
"Oh, Heaven's no. I need my space to work," Alastor replies with a soft scoff. (Y/n) felt somewhat small compared to Alastor, his confidence burning like a rapid flame to wind. His knowledge on the world, though ostensibly coming off as arrogant at times, seemed to be too far-reached for the likes of (Y/n). However, a small spark of aspiration lit their need to learn, and a smaller part of them also hoped that Alastor would be patient in his teachings. Yet, (Y/n) also couldn't help but to remain cautious of this man's intentions. His ambitions towards them still remain unclear, and that caused an uncomfortable grip of fear on their heart.
"I'm still not fully sure on why you were insistent that I work for you. What can I do that someone else can't? You said it yourself you can manage perfectly fine on your own. I'm just curious on why," (Y/n) says, hesitantly walking further inside with their bag strap in a deathly grip.
"I've told you before," Alastor remarks in a deep timbered hum, his eye blown out and unwavering as he stares at them. "I want to experiment with your mind. See your ticks and how it responds to certain circumstances. I did my research more than you realize, sweet."
"You purposely sought me out because of gossip? You do realize you are feeding into a media man's stereotype, yes?"
"I never said I believed it! It is my job and passion, however, to create my own hypotheses. If it makes you feel any better, I do find that brain of yours quite fascinating so far."
"I don't really know what to say to that..."
"Let's make a deal then, shall we?" Alastor compels, "I'll let you cover any topic your heart desires while you work under me, and with the condition that you can leave at any time, I get to observe and test you in any way I please."
"And what makes you think I won't walk out of here right now? How can I guarantee you won't use anything against me?" (Y/n) tests with a grimace, hating the slight amusement they found in this position. They took pride in the work they do, knowing that every advantage they can access to achieve the truth should never be taken for granted. On the other hand, they despised needless societal gossip. Being on the receiving end of undeserved hate, they fully understand the need for veracity. Though, they don't fully commend Alastor at this point, the opportunity to disassemble the lies built in New Orleans overweighed any possible hesitations.
"You can't guarantee anything and I won't say if I will or if I won't. I know you won't walk away though," Alastor chuckles, "You are just like me; you won't turn down the possibility of destroying another."
"Is that so?" (Y/n) hisses out, a tempestuous glare keeping up with the puckish one their new boss held with them. "What do we start on first then?"
"Sit, dear." Alastor's smile widens as he gestures to the other couch, "We have much to discuss."
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