Let The Radio Play《 Alastor x Reader 》

Deal With A Devil

How far down this rabbit hole are you willing to go?

An oppressive aura stales the air, threatening to suffocate me. I can only compare it to the shifting wind right before the storm rolls in, ominous clouds whose pressure bears down on the body.

The storm, of course, is Alastor himself.

This fucking deer.

Vaggie's raging voice echoes in the back of my mind. Straightening up and glaring at Alastor, I ask.

"What're the terms of your deal?"

"Y/N, you chaste girl! Bravo! Oh ho ho ho..." Wild smile unwavering, Alastor retracts his outstretched hand to join his other behind his back. "Quite the simple exchange, really!"

In a flurry, he toe taps to the side and pivots.  Graceful steps and quick reflexes and he's managed to slide himself beside me.

"I provide you with an outlet for all that frustration of yours, a few slight of hand tricks, a dash of knowledge in controlling that wicked charlatan mind you possess, and by golly a sprinkle of the physical exertion you're craving so terribly!"

With that, his hand snatches mine within it and tugs upwards and round, twirling me in a circle. I can't help the smile that finds the corners of my mouth.

"And in exchange!" He begins, his free hand catching my waist and stabilizing my body. The reverberation of the static returns suddenly, thick and haunting. "Two fold, darling. You'll refrain from touching me again."

My ears flatten tight against the top of my head, pinning back under the unwanted sound of the static.

"And you will be indebted to me for a favor of my choosing, at any time of my choosing."

The static dissipates and Alastor pushes me back to arms length. Its unnerving, in this moment, that unwavering smile.

"What'll it be doll?!"

On one hand, refusing Alastor doesn't sound like a good option. The pit in my stomach is ever-growing, and if this was some sort of television show, the audience would be screaming to run away.

Maybe that's what makes it all the more appealing.

This isn't my world.

Safety, Security, Power...

...Are all gained through sacrificing your humanity. Your morality. Your sanity.

In that thought, I feel a tinge of sadness staring back at Alastor. I don't see the menacing Radio Demon. What I see is the fractured existence of what an eternity of being in hell does to a psyche. A broken porcelain face, each facet a different emotion stitched together by the smile he wears.. The inevitable end I'm now destined for.

I grab his hand off of my waist, holding it by the wrist at the back of his hand and stick my other hand into his, giving it a firm shake with both of mine.

"Deal."

Alastor's eyes grow large for a moment before narrowing, though they never break from mine.

"Well then.." Alastor coos back at me, returning the handshake. "A deals a deal."

The words don't seem to come from Alastor. It's more a whisper of hundreds of voices all around me hazed in static, combined into a solid noise. I can barely make out flashes of neon green flitting through the air, the room almost feeling confining and smoke-filled by the presence.

And then.. falling.

Fuck I hate falling.

My heart, if not caged by my sternum, dares to jump out of my chest at the feeling. Filtered symbols of green replaced by an inky black abyss of nothing -- except for Alastor's hand still in mine.

In trepidation of hitting solidity again I brace myself, closing my eyes and tensing completely before I realize my feet are still beneath me. Stable. On unusually cold, flat ground. As I open my eyes where ever I am now is completely dark. Alastor is staring at me, red light casting the only light in this space.

"Where am I, or we.. I guess." I ask softly, trying to make out any details of our new location.

"Shh.. you'll wake him." Alastor whispers, turning his head to look behind him. I follow his gaze, curiously peeking around him to see who, or what, he's referring to.

Click.

Click.

Clank.

The little hairs on the back of my neck and inside my ears stand at full attention. Metal against metal, methodically snapping into position.

Steel wrungs of chain, intertwined and shifting positions against the next sway slowly. Lazily. Supporting a slim, yet long frame of a demon. I strain my eyes trying to make out what type of demon it is that Alastor has imprisoned. Cautiously I step around Alastor, each foot step I make deliberately quiet. The room, while unlit and its breadth unseen, feels large. A few paces in, I can make out an outline of the demon's head.

Long and oddly flat. A rectangle. Facing downward to the ground at an angle perfectly situated between two thin arms suspended by cuffs attached to the steel chains.

"The one and only." Alastor whispers into my ear as he moves next to me, each step inaudible.

He motions with his arm, snatching at the air just as the microphone stand materializes in his grasp. Blinking to life the eye of the microphone illuminates bright, casting a red dull light. A quick twirl between his fingers and he offers it to me.

"Here's where the fun begins."

---
892 words.

Oh, the CLIFFHANGERS I leave you all on are really a crime in and of themselves. Haha!

Don't worry though, as we come back in the next chapter we'll be seeing some rather action packed drama unfold. It's about to get real.