#dark! x reader

It was all her fault.

What if it had been different? What if she had agreed to his plan, had said yes? What if, in sacrificing herself, her father would have been saved? If Y/n had known, is that even something she would have been brave enough to do? Strong enough?

It went like this: a few days after their conversation, if you could even call it that, in the library, Alastor had come by the house to meet with her father. It wasn't like before, he did not just stop by, he had scheduled it. He had made it official.

Y/n did not know what had actually happened behind those closed doors, not word for word anyways, but she had been so unlucky as to run in to Alastor on his way out.

The more she thought about it now, knowing what she now knew him to be capable of, the more purposeful the chance meeting seemed. The more purposeful every chance meeting seemed.

It was the way he had looked at her then, it was the same angry, hungry look he had shot her so briefly when they had first met. Y/n had frozen in her path, a deer in headlights. The man was famished and what was she besides his next meal?

They had stayed like that for a moment. It could not have been more than a couple of seconds, but it had felt like an eternity. Then, Alastor had grabbed her arm.

It was not the first time he had touched her. It was not even the first time his fingers had dug painfully into her skin, but something was different. There was a force behind it that was unlike anything Y/n had experienced before. It would have stilled her completely, stopped her in her tracks, if Alastor had not drug her stumbling body into the room he had just exited.

Her father's office. The place she had run to as a child for comfort, the place she had first learned what friendship could be gained from the written word.

The hours she had spent there, huddled by his desk and turning pages, came crashing in on Y/n in an instant because it was in an instant after entering the room that she had realized everything was wrong.

The rich green carpet Y/n had always secretly thought looked like moss was stained brown in patches, the books had been roughly pulled from their shelves and scattered upon the floor. Their pages - their peaceful, safe pages - were becoming a deeper shade of red with every second and gilded glass crunched under her feet as Alastor dragged Y/n to a halt.

She could not look at the desk. She was physically unable to look away from the desk.

At it's foot, right before her very eyes, crumpled and bloody, achingly familiar, was a body. Y/n whimpered. Alastor grinned.

"I suppose you can tell what his answer must have been."

Y/n was numb, she could not see. Everything was stained that same, rich red. It was almost beautiful in a sense. Outside of herself, Y/n nearly believed she was looking at a painting, at a beautiful baroque sculpture with all its contrasts and drama.

Alastor did not crouch down beside her, no. He did not offer a grieving daughter a moment of reprieve, instead opting to use Y/n's arm, still hanging limply from his grasp, to pull her roughly to her feet.

His hand slid around her waist, caressing the small of her back almost as if they were dancing. Y/n could not bring herself to meet his gaze, her eyes fixed on the bloody corpse at their feet. She would have crumpled to her knees once again, would have cradled his beloved face in her guilty hands, if not for the force with which Alastor held her in place.

"You see?" he whispered, laughter flitting delicately in the background of his voice, "It does not matter. I will have you. You will be mine."

All at once, Alastor released his grip on Y/n's trembling frame. As expected, she crumpled, she rushed to her father's side. Blood soaked into her skirts, staining the pale fabric dark. Blood soaked into her hands, her hair.

Alastor watched, amused, before he too knelt down beside the body.

Y/n was sputtering prayers, begging for life. Her fingers danced across the body, they straightened her father's collar as if he would be getting up again and would want to appear presentable when he did.

Alastor, on the other hand, dug his dirty hands deep into the gouge in the man's chest. With some effort, he withdrew his fist, the body making a horrible tearing noise as it jolted unnaturally beneath Y/n's soft grip.

Suddenly, Y/n felt herself being pulled back to her feet. Her hands grasped helplessly towards her father, the one man who was meant to protect her, but Alastor put a stop to that.

It was only now she realized that his white shirt was stained red with blood, only now she realized that his footprints to the door were far too dark, that they compressed the thick carpet leaving marks far too deep.

He held her close, pressing her body to his. Y/n turned, she looked up.

There it was, the fear. Intoxicating like the finest liquor, worth a thousand dollars a glance at least. Alastor raised the bloody chunk of flesh he had ripped from the corpse with his bear hands. Maintaining eye contact, he took a bite.

Y/n raised a bloodied hand to her mouth, holding back vomit as Alastor chewed, as he swallowed.

"What is it, my dear?" he asked.

It was so casual, that was what scared her more than anything. Alastor was acting as if this was all normal, as if the body of her father by their feet was par for the course. Blood dripped down his chin on to her fragile shoulder as he leaned in, grinning.

She had known he was bad news. Now? This was just the conformation of things she already knew.

If only she had been able to convince them, to convince him, that Alastor was not one to be entangled with. If only she had been gentler, if only she had known the right words to say but she had never known the right words to say. She had never been tactful or good. It was like he had seen her, he had recognized her, and now he had trapped her. She was backed into a corner.

It wasn't because of the body, no. Y/n was quite honestly in too much shock to really process the reality of the situation, the veracity of the moment. It was the look Alastor gave her as he leaned in.

For once, his smile? Well, it reached his eyes.

For months, he had done nothing but share something soulless with Y/n, with her family. Only now, now that blood had been spilt, did his eyes seem to match his expression. The demeanor with which he carried himself finally seemed to suit him.

"To be eaten is to be holy." he hissed, his breath tickling her ear.

Y/n felt every muscle in her body clench. She trembled in his grasp.

"Have a bite."

Suddenly, Alastor's hand was at her mouth, the meat was pressed against her lips as if it was meat. Only, it was not meat. It was perversion, it was person, it was her dad. Y/n turned her head away as quickly as she found herself able to do so. Still, blood was left staining her face.

There was something beautiful about it, Alastor thought. The way the blood looked like the richest lipstick, the way the fear made her eyes shine. There was something worth being desired there.

It was not the first time he had thought about this, had fantasized considering what Y/n would look like when her skin was marred with blood. The reality, he had to admit, was much better than any fantasy could have been. Alastor nearly trembled, anticipation having built up for far too long.

"Go on."

At long last, Y/n finally seemed able to find her voice.

"No!" she exclaimed, pushing at his chest with her fists.

If Alastor had not been so surprised by the action, she would not have gotten free. However, she had surprised him.

Y/n panted, trembling in fear a few feet away from him. Alastor's grin, which had slipped suddenly from his face at her departure, regenerated. It grew wider still, wider than Y/n had ever seen it.

Alastor took half a step forward, pausing as Y/n stumbled slightly backwards in response. He raised his hands, an offering of peace. It did not, however, escape either party that grasped in one hand still lay the pound of flesh.

"So," Alastor mused, "the little doe has some fight in her after all."

Y/n's eyes flickered anxiously around the room.

"You'll go to jail for this." she frantically exclaimed, "You'll be damned to Hell for all you've done."

Then, Alastor laughed. The sound surprised Y/n to such a degree that she did not even flinch as he approached her again.

When he reached her, he stopped. Alastor leaned down ever so slightly, leering at her. His teeth seemed far to sharp in the shadowed light from the window, his hands far too capable.

"You think I don't know that?" he jeered, "And as for jail, who is to say I won't just pin it all on you."

Y/n's blood ran cold.

"You wouldn't," she shook her head frantically, "You can't."

Alastor chuckled.

"I am not the only one here covered in blood, with it staining my lips."

His finger trailed down the side of her face as he spoke, the nail scratching her skin ever so slightly. It ended on her chin, his hand cupping her as he reach up and swiped at Y/n's lower lip with his deadly thumb.

"Who do you think they'll believe? We both have reputations, my dear."

When he pulled away, he left blood in his wake, as if he had split skin. He was right, Y/n knew. Alastor was this miracle in the eyes of the populous, this gift to human kind and Y/n? Y/n was nervous, fumbling, sheltered.

She was not stupid. She could see the way it would play out.

All Alastor would have to do is make some claim that it was her who had proposed the idea of marriage to her father and when he had said no, she had lost it. All Alastor had to do was flip the script. He was charming, he was good with his words, in possession of a silver tongue. It would be easier for him to lie and be believed than for Y/n to tell the truth and garner the same result.

Especially now. Especially when the stains were utterly incapable of coming out.

"You will be mine. If it kills you? If it kills me, you will be mine."

To be eaten is to be holy. That is what Alastor had said. The words reverberated endlessly around Y/n's mind and it was not just because he was watching her carefully with such a ravenous gaze.

In being eaten, she would have been made holy, Y/n suddenly realized. In being eaten, she would have saved her father's life.

If only she had said yes. If only she had convinced her father to say yes. If only she had been devoured, willingly.

None of that mattered now. What was done, was done. Y/n would be someone the man could have been proud of. She would be her father's daughter if it killed her. It was not a realization, but a choice. She chose it, and in doing so, she made it real.

Pride welled in her chest, it lit a fire she had not known was even there to light. Y/n's hands trembled now, not with fear, but with something else. She took a deep breath.

"I will not settle for men over angels." Y/n announced, her voice, for once, thick with pride, with confidence.

Alastor leaned back. Though his smile was gone, his eyes still bore that same, sick amusement at her suffering. He slipped his hands into his pockets, eyebrows raised.

"I am mine. I belong to me and me alone."

"We will just have to see about that."

----

A/N Ngl, I had more planned for this than ended up working out. I had other stuff I wanted to have happen, but it just would have made the one shot feel long and disconnected. If y'all want another part with what I didn't add, I'll totally write it, but left to my own devices I feel like this is good and menacing. I am a fan of the way this fic turned out, despite cutting stuff.

This might give away my identity if anyone who knows me irl is reading this, but this fic is based off a poem by high school best friend wrote about me called 'To Be Eaten.' He is quite literally an award winning poet and the poem itself is beautiful and about how he was scared of me being taken advantage of by men, among other things. Idk I just felt like this was worth sharing because I used to title for this fic and I used some lines from the poem for inspiration. The poem is not published anywhere as far as I know and I do not plan on sharing it in its entirety because it is not my work.

All my fics are about me in some sense, they each amplify and dissect a distinct portion of my personality or life. That is the only way I know how to write. My current relationship is great, but I've been in a lot of deeply unhealthy relationships before and currently have two separate people who stalk me so.... This one is extra personal I guess. This one and Addict since in Addict I tried to base the reader's character off of the way I act around my closest and dearest friends.

Tags:

@willowshadenox @i-love-jafar @elfyeet @reader3 @lazygirlfanfic0-0 @kahlan170 @wendyphan01203-blog @fairyv-ice @clarakainda @lunaramune @mcueveryday @luxky-aish @peterpankat @corvid007 @juskonutoh @simpingsohard @sethianaa @gabile18 @slytherin4ever @skyeliteratures @zombiesnips-blog 

Requests are marked in pink

Suggestive are marked in orange

Unrequited (Alastor x Reader) → It is too late for him to change things now. It doesn't matter what else has happened, that he's gotten to know her, seen her light. Some broken things can never be fixed. 'You came' 'you called' but make it sad.

→ Unrequited Pt. 2 -> Reader steps in when Alastor is attacking Husk.

→ Unrequited Pt. 3 -> Alastor refuses to let Y/n be present for the battle against Heaven and will do whatever it takes to keep her safe, even if she hates him for it.

→ Unrequited Pt. 4 -> Having been trapped in Alastor's old radio tower, Y/n ponders the threat of the angels and the nature of her relationships. That is, until Alastor appears with a gash across his chest.