Could I please request Alastor seeing his QP partner attacking/distracting Adam during the finale so that he could get away, and maybe some angst of Alastor knowing he can't go and help them in his near death condition, and not knowing if they're dead or alive. Spoiler they're fine you don't become close with the Radio Demon without being some sort of badass.
Sorry if this is too specific, I hope you're having a good day.
I sort of combined this one with @meefy's request (this one). It doesn't totally match the asks, so I apologize. I threw this together between classes a bit hastily, so sorry if the pacing or writing seems off.
Yeah, Reader is a little OP. Oh well.
May or may not write a continuation where Al takes care of Reader's injuries...
TW: Canon-typical violence
Let Me Help You
Alastor x Reader (QP)
There were suddenly angels fucking everywhere. Gold ichor mixed with deep red in pools on the ground. Alastor’s shield had shattered. It hadn’t even been ten minutes, and the shield was gone.
You tried to look for Alastor on the roof, anything to show he was alright. A flash of green followed by the distinct sight of Alastor’s tentacles helped soothe your worrying, turning back to the fight at hand. He’d be okay. He was one of the most powerful demons in Hell, he had to be okay.
Regardless, you started to fight your way to the roof, cutting angels down left and right. Your prowess in battle had started to show through, dodging expertly before retaliating effortlessly. But there were so many of them.
The numbers became overwhelming. Angel after angel started flanking you at every angle. You were trying to keep your eye on Alastor, but you kept nearly tripping over corpses instead. An angelic spear grazed your cheek, causing you to lash out, knocking back the growing crowd before tearing them apart one by one.
A terrible sinking feeling developed in your stomach, causing your focus to go straight up. With a flash, you teleported yourself to the roof. Alastor was half-transformed, a sinister grin filling his face while his signature tentacles framed his figure.
Adam, the first man himself, was in the air, brandishing a weapon resembling a guitar.
“--Cuz radio is fucking dead!” Adam shouted, as a bright flash of light caused you to shield your eyes.
The moment the light subsided, your eyes widened in shock.
“What just happened?” Alastor looked around frantically, locking eyes with you before seeing his cane in his hands, snapped in half. “Fuck.”
Neither of you saw Adam fly back down, swinging his weapon down. Alastor fell back into the ground, blood dripping from a huge gaping wound in his chest.
“Alastor!” You cried, running over to stand in front of him. Staring Adam down, your face pulled into a snarl. “You motherfucker!” Adrenaline coursing through your veins, you lunged at the angel.
Using your lightning-fast reflexes to your advantage, you managed to dodge any attack Adam sent your way. You narrowly missed getting obliterated multiple times, but what matters is that Adam’s focus is on you. Stealing a quick glance back at where Alastor was leaning against the wall, the huge gash in his chest slowly soaking his shirt with blood, you saw him melt into the shadows while glaring heavily at Adam with his ever-present smile.
“Oh no,” Adam mocked. “Did I just kill your boyfriend?”
“Fuck you.” You focused all your anger, all your worry, into misdirecting Adam. At this point, you were just trying to keep him busy. Luckily, you’d learned some things during your time in Hell, thanks to Alastor. Keeping Adam running back and forth wasn’t that difficult, or at least you tried to keep telling yourself that. Maybe if you tired him out, or let the others focus on the horde of angels, it would help?
Where did Alastor even go? How were you supposed to find him when he just disappeared in thin air? Was he going to be okay? What would happen if he died? Would you do if he died?
Somehow, even though you were distracted, you kept dodging Adam’s attacks. The fatigue was growing on you, though. Adam was definitely not like the other angels. Any time you tried to attack him, he dodged or countered before you could react properly. His attacks were too strong for you to take head-on, which was why you were stuck dodging everything.
“Now this is just fucking boring,” Adam groaned. With a movement of his fingers, you found yourself on the ground with a flash of light. A burning sensation ripped a pained cry from your chest as you doubled over, coughing up blood.
Adam kicked your side for good measure, sending you careening off the building. “Fucking pussy.”
You mustered a portal before you hit the ground, softening your fall as you rolled into your bedroom. It still hurt, pain causing your body to spasm. Dangerous-looking burns decorated the skin on the upper half of your body. While your vision faded in and out of focus, you tried to use some of your power to heal yourself as best you could.
The pain eased just enough that you could focus on the matter at hand: finding Alastor. At this point, you couldn’t give a shit whether angels killed everyone in Hell or not. You needed to find your partner. You needed to find Alastor.
Hands shaking, you mentally went through a checklist of every place in Hell you’d ever been to, trying to determine where he’d have gone.
Almost like mockery, the old radio that sat on your desk crackled faintly. Of course! Where else would Alastor be but the one place he feels most in control.
Rather than trying to make another portal, you picked yourself up off the floor and started walking. The hotel itself was abandoned, making it easy for you to traverse the halls without interruption. Your body ached as adrenaline started to wear off, but at least you could function. Who’s to say what Alastor was capable of.
You cringed at the memory of his wound. Not only was it long, but it looked deep, with blood steadily leaking out. Alastor’s signature red outfit and his blood was not a good combo, you decided. Yes, it might match, but it was not right.
It didn’t take long for you to get to the recording booth near the top of the hotel, carefully making sure you stayed out of sight. Your wounds healed little by little as you walked, your natural healing factor kicking in. A few well-placed deals, and your healing was nearly ten times as fast as a regular Sinner’s.
There was no need to knock, the door hanging from its hinges. The recording booth was in massive disarray. And in the center, leaning weakly in his chair, sat the man you were looking for.
“Alastor.” You breathed a sigh of relief at seeing him still alive, but further inspection didn’t do much to help your nerves. His breathing was shallow, expression pained but somehow still holding a strained grin.
“What are you doing here?” His voice was sharp.
“Helping you, obviously,” you snapped in reply. There was no first aid kit nearby, so you just ripped sections of your jacket off, forcefully shoving the scraps onto Alastor’s still-bleeding chest.
“I do not need your help,” he snarled back. Despite his words, he didn’t try to discard the fabric you were now pressing into his wound.
When Alastor finched, you hesitated. You didn’t want to cause him any more pain, be it physical or emotional, but you knew he’d insist on trying to deal with everything himself. You were a similar way, but he’d also do the exact same thing you were doing if the situation were reversed.
Gritting your teeth, you forcefully held the fabric to him as it slowly became blood soaked. “Summon a damn first aid kit.”
“I said–”
“I don’t fucking care.” You raised your head, meeting Alastor’s eyes so he knew you were serious. Was your voice shaking? Maybe. Were you scared? Most definitely. Was Alastor more important? Always. “Let me help you.”
Alastor visibly deflated, bringing a hand to his face. “Fine.” His voice was stiff, defiant. With a wave of his hand, a first aid kit appeared beside you.
You were silent as you worked, now with actual medical supplies at your disposal. Any training you’d had while you were alive all came back to you while you attempted not to make the injury any worse than it already was.
“I wasn’t sure if you were still alive,” Alastor admitted quietly after a few minutes. “Adam was much… more than I’d anticipated. I appreciate that you allowed me to retreat.”
Pausing, you looked Alastor up and down, possibly to see if he had a head injury as well. Never, in all your years, had Alastor ever said anything so kind to you.
“What else would I do?” You shrugged. “Leave you to die? In your dreams, maybe. We’ve been friends for so many years, I’ve lost count. So of course I helped you, you stubborn asshole. A psychopathic angel is nothing if it means helping you.”
Alastor was silent for a moment. “If Adam had killed you…” The room filled with static, Alastor’s true demon form coming out ever-so-slightly. “I was prepared to burn all of Heaven to the ground.”
“Thanks for the sentiment, Al.” Your expression softened, unable to deny the smile that grew on your face. “Now, sit up so I can secure this gauze.”
Hours later, after the hotel had been rebuilt and you were prepared to act like Soft Alastor had never happened, an arm looped in yours. Alastor stood beside you, smiling down like always.
“Come now, dearest. It’s time for supper!”
Something about Alastor was different now. His expression was altered. He’d seemed more defensive in the aftermath of the battle, however, he seemed to do the exact opposite around you.
It was subtle enough that only you (and maybe Rosie) would be able to tell. Luckily, for Alastor, you were perfectly content keeping your observations to yourself.