Alastor x Reader Oneshots

Night Terror

Art Credit: SamuraiAmes

WARNING: Angst but happy ending. Come on y'all I can't make it just sad :( Hints toward molestation, rape, forced abortion and also detailed murder. If any of this triggers you PLEASE DON'T READ. PLEASE.

NOTE: I apologize if this chapter comes off as confusing to read, or very out of character for Alastor (I mean but that's my whole book tbh) I just wanted to explore a dreamlike state and how I would write that and kind of dive into a past that I imagine Alastor to have. This isn't canon. This is just my thoughts. But anyway, please enjoy, and I promise I'll have something cute and happy for the next chapter. :)

Alastor enjoyed the feeling of slipping into unconsciousness and into his dreams. Some nights he would dream of death and catastrophe by his hands, something he very much enjoyed. Other times it would be he and (Y/N) together.

This could be very innocent, other times not.

As most dreamers however, there are always times where Alastor would experience some night terrors.

This particular night, he was not doing so well.

Tossing and turning next to a gentle sleeping (Y/N), the Radio Demon's facial features scrunched up painfully, his jaw was tight and unmoving as he whimpered softly in his sleep. He was devoid of a smile which was usually easy for him to maintain. In this vulnerable state Alastor looked much different from his terrifying and intimidating demeanor that others feared.

In this dream, it felt as if he was engulfed in frigid water, almost like falling into a frozen lake. His feet dropped down to solid ground to a very familiar spot from his past. This lucid dream took him to his childhood home deep in Georgia country. It was a two story farm house that was built sometime in the Victorian era. The house had just finished living through the great war, and a young Alastor was only about ten or eleven at the time.

He walked closer to the house, touching the delicate leaves from greenery and shrubs around the front yard with a very ghostly touch. A sound of laughter echoed in his ear, and out the front door of his old childhood home came—

Alastor.

Much, much younger though.

Adorned with a missing tooth at the front of his smile, child Alastor hopped off the steps of the porch, spinning on his heels in a happy, joyful manner. No care in the world. As Alastor watched his past self, he couldn't help but smile, missing that vague sense of carefree. Moments after, his dear mother appeared from the door, smiling tiredly down at her son that was now tearing down some weeds over by fathers car.

"Alastor dear, be careful not to bump your fathers car."

Her voice was detached.

Dreaming of this distant memory, he had forgotten what his mother actually sounded like. He tried reaching out to his mother and his younger self, but he couldn't move.

The scenery changed. It was dark now, and in a corridor in his past home that lead to his parents bedroom. There was no younger version of himself, no smiling mother.

No joy.

There was a noise of struggle coming from the room and he tried with all his might to prevent his legs from moving. He wanted to be anywhere BUT there.

His heart knew that his father was in there. His horrible, abusive father. The man he blames for turning him into a monster. A tyrant.

A murderer.

His father abused him and his mother nearly everyday with no reprimand. When Alastor was a boy he would go to school adorning bruises, sometimes he had a black eye. His father who has no name to Alastor would belittle him, and abuse him emotionally and physiologically.