#Broke: Alastor Likes the Reader because they remind him of his mom

[askaalaska-vdeppressed]

I Cannot Breath (So I Must Sing) Ch. 2

Alastor X Fem Opera Singer Reader

Masterlist

Please be warned this chapter does touch on some period accurate racism. Proceed with caution.

 Most people assume that being a performer is all about the audience. That if the audience leaves happy, with excitement in their voices and smiles on their faces, that the performance was a good one.  

Your father had instilled in you from a young age that most people -- were wrong. You could see him now, his dark hair styled neatly, gray bits beginning to sprout on the sides. His hair line high, pushed up after years of his mask irritating it. His shirts were always cotton and the warm leather of his sheep skin gloves was always a comfort. The smell of damp that permeated the house on the lake never bothered you. Nor did the eerie silence that stained the air, only ever broken by the odd squeak of Rodentia or hard splash from the waves.  

Or the sounds of a poor lost fool being drowned. 

Father was always pleased on those days.  

 "Ma fée” he would beckon you over to the piano. You always preferred it when he taught you on piano. ”Remember when you sing, you sing only for yourself and for me. If you sing for others you will become complacent, and a complacent artist is a dull one.”  

The memory of damp and sheep skin gloves faded as you approached the radio station. Walking in, the doors’ hinges squeaked alerting the receptionist to your presence. 

“Can I help you miss?” An excessively thin and dainty woman called out to you. You glanced over, spying the clock above her head. 2:15 p.m. Perfect. Just like you planned.  

“I‘m here for an interview. I‘m early a little. My name is Y/n Leroux” Your accent was back on in full swing, though you’d been toning down the breaks in your English since your bluff had been called by the radio show host. Doing it had been getting tedious anyway.  

“Oh wow, it’s a pleasure to meet you miss, the station’s been very excited to hear from such a seasoned performer.” It was hard to tell if the woman was genuinely excited to see you there or if she was just very good at her job. Perhaps a mix of both. You ultimately decided her earnestness wasn’t of import.  

“Thank you”  

“Don’t thank me yet” the woman’s eyes were tense as she read over a planner on her desk. “You’re more than a bit early honey. I don’t think anyone was expecting you here till 3 at the earliest” She peered up, trying to gauge your reaction to the news. “But you’re more than welcome to wait up here, or you could go take a walk and come back” She gestured to a very well-worn couch that sat in front of the station’s front picture window. The fabric was aged and stained, several patches covered it in varying colors and materials.  

It looked like they'd dragged it out of the trash.  

You assessed the current worth of the dress you had on before deciding to sit on the remnants of a couch. This little scheme of yours was worth more.  

The plan was simple really. Alastor Altruist was clearly a man that like being in control of the situation. He liked knowing what would happen, how things would go.  

You were going to throw him off his rhythm.  

Simple as a sonnet.  

If you were being honest, you didn’t hate Alastor- quite the contrary. From what little you had interacted with him he seemed sweet, terribly intellectual and keen to rise to the challenge. That’s what made him so fun to fluster. He was the first source of stimulating entertainment you’d had since coming to the country. He’d captured your attention in such a vivacious way, you were eager to do more mental sparring with him.  

“Who you chatting with Sandy?” A dishwater blonde gentleman stuck his head out of the door cattycorner to the reception desk. He looked to be in his 40’s, white, strong jawline, pouty lower lip, conventionally attractive by most metrics. Though some deep subconscious instinct in you couldn’t help but think- snake.  

“Oh this is Miss Leroux, the opera singer Al is interviewing.” The man’s eyebrows raised as he stepped into the atrium proper.  

“Well I'll be damned, here I though he was fibbing on us just to get a rise.” The man walked over his hand outstretched. “Gary Whitaker I do the morning run from 4 to 9, it’s a pleasure to meet you ma’am”  

“Indeed a pleasure, sir.” You stood and shook his hand. ”I’m afraid my apartment lacks a radio so I’m ehh ’no knowing’ most of your shows.” That one wasn’t even a lie, you didn’t own a radio, it would only serve as a distraction from the music you were already creating.  

“Well with as big as this opening is shaping up to be, I’d imagine affording one will be no problem afterwards” He gave a modest chuckle. His comment was telling. He knew you were a big deal but didn’t know why. If he did he’d have known you had no issue affording one now, you just lacked the motivation to do so.  

“Say Al’s show doesn’t start for some time, how about I introduce you to the boys in the back” His posture was nonchalant, one arm in his pants pocket, the other pointing his thumb at the door he’d appeared out of.  

The plan was to throw Alastor off his rhythm, you never specified how.  

“I’d be delighted”  

~  

Alastor’s day had not been a bad one. Nothing totally earth-shattering had happened. He didn’t almost lose a limb or get mugged. He didn't forget anything or stain his shirt. He didn’t even step in a puddle or receive an untoward glance.  

Alastor’s day had not been bad.  

So why did every mild inconvenience he encountered today spark within him an indignant rage? The laces on his shoes were too tight and he wanted to throw them into the bayou. His skin itched from the allergen invested air and he wanted to peal it off. The temperature wasn’t quite right in his coffee, and he wanted to strangle the poor sod that served it to him. Alastor was many things but blindly angry was not one of them. Neither was he prone to reckless acts of violence. Violence yes but reckless no. He was poised and planned. He knew his targets and he picked them meticulously. He knew how each and every stroke of the knife would enter them.  

That’s why he had become so annoyed with Y/n. She made him second guess himself. An error he was loath to make twice in front of her.  

‘Oh yes that’s almost certainly it’ he thought, his stride almost automatic as he made his way to the station. The interview with Y/n was the culprit for his hair trigger mood swings. The looming threat of having to possibly defend himself, or decipher her, while live on air hung over him. The fog it produced affecting his senses. If the games Miss. Leroux played weren’t directed at him, he’d probably enjoy watching them. But they weren’t so he didn’t  

 “What’s shaking Sandy?” He entered, cheery demeanor in place as he greeted the receptionist.  

“Nothing but the trees Al.” She replied, pausing what she was writing to properly acknowledge him. “Your interviewee came early.”  

Al stopped his stride abruptly, glancing at the clock. 3:15, he supposed she did mention coming at 3 to ensure punctuality in the airing of the broadcast. He appreciated her consideration in that regard. “How long has she been waiting?” he asked smoothly, bending to one knee as he did so to tie his shoelaces.  

“An hour”  

Alastor whipped his head up. 

“An hour?” His eyes were wide.  

“Yes sir” Sandy replied sheepishly  

“Good God why?” He stood once more, his arms making vague gestures as he tried to fathom if this woman really had nothing better to do this afternoon, then wait for him. Sandy’s only reply was a display of throwing her hands and eyebrows up in confusion. Alastor twisted around, noticing the lack of opera singer on the parlor couch.  

“Well, where is she then?” he asked.  

“Gary took her back to meet everyone. She hadn’t been sitting here five minutes before he swooped in here and snatched her and-” Alastor made his way to the back, the sound of Sandy quickly fading. His eyebrows furrowed in frustration and anxiety.  

Alastor’s day had not been a bad one, but it had just gotten much much worse. 

~ 

So, you’re telling me the only reason Al snagged you was because of a buddy of his? Ha! Just goes to show you how far having the right friends will get ya!” The salt and pepper haired radio host—whom you had learned was named Ernie—laughed animatedly as he spoke. His assistant and wife--whom you had learned was named Sara-- was hanging on his shoulder.  You were sat with the two of them on a couch— in much better shape— that sat off to the side of several desks.  

You liked Ernie well enough. The whole lot that Mr. Whitaker had introduced you too, you liked well enough. Though you could sense down in your core that they were all business people at heart- Ernie perhaps the only exception. The cordial nature they put on only a front in order to network. They were fine for a day, but you wouldn’t want to see them every day.   

No wonder Alastor seemed exacerbated.  

As it had been explained to you, the station ran regular content Monday, Wednesday and Friday, with different specials interspersed on other days. There were four main hosts at the station that worked these days from what you could gather. Gary Whitaker, and his assistant Kim Parsons had early mornings. They also did broadcasts Tuesday nights, usually episodic radio dramas. When talking about it Gary had proudly stated that he had started the trend at the station and others such as Alastor followed in his footsteps. Though when he said this, Kim had rolled her eyes and fixed him with a ‘sure you did’ look.  

 Ernie Welch and his wife Sara took mid mornings to early afternoon. Ernie was the oldest at the station at 56. He was also one of the owners, the station was owned by him and two of his brothers. Ernie didn’t do any other specialty programming, probably spending most of his free time running the place or dealing with the metaphorical fires his son was starting. You only knew about the latter because a call had interrupted your initial meeting with Ernie and Sara. A police officer on the other end of the line.  

Franklin Marks and his assistant Stacie Quick had afternoons to evenings. It was clear to you from the onset that Stacie was the one really running the show and Frank was just her mouthpiece. It was also clear to you that Franklin had a raging and obvious crush on the onyx haired woman. You could tell just from the way he looked at her, though it became glaringly obvious when he mentioned he came in at the ass crack of dawn on Tuesdays and Thursdays to do broadcasts because Stacie liked doing the morning shows.  

Alastor had evenings into the night, no assistant that you had seen. His and Franklin’s normal spots were the cream of the crop so to speak, since people were at home relaxing from a hard day at work and were more likely to sit and just enjoy some radio. Alastor also did evening broadcasts Thursday and Saturday. From what you had heard he was the only one to work on Saturdays. For as cocky as he was, he at least had the work ethic to back it up.  

“So Cal Al lucked into success once again, what a surprise.” Gary said, frustration evident in his voice, he had turned and walked away before you could question him further on the comment.  

“Cal Al?” You asked confused.  

“Callous-er Alastor, an unfortunate nickname he’s earned himself with a lot of the staff, though I wish they wouldn’t call him that in public.” Ernie huffed and shook his head. The two of you were now alone. You spied the retreating form of Sara behind him, looking like she was headed to the front to speak to Sandy.  “He does it to himself though. I keep telling him to just keep the peace, but he lets that mouth of his run. And it certainly hasn’t made him any friends” 

Ernie grabbed his ever cooling coffee from the table and leaned back, letting the mug rest against his lips in contemplation. “He’s a grown man though, I can’t make that decision for him.” He took a sip. “I used to though. He came in here when I first started, begging to work for me. He was just a kid, tall as a pole and looking like he’d be all of 50 pounds soaking wet. Heh, we used to use him to get shit out from between walls or in the crawl space.”  

You laughed at the image; a young Alastor being held by his ankles being used to grab things. Ernie was off in his own world though. “Yet for all the hard work he’s put in, he does nothing to keep it. He’d rather work harder, not smarter. I keep telling him he needs to open up, talk to people, get in the good graces of the right folks.... I’d given anything just to get him to listen. Just to get him to succeed the way I know he can.”  

You stared at Ernie, sentiment saturating your gaze. The stare seemed to wake Ernie out of his trance. “Oh, you don’t wanna hear the troubles of some silly studio head”  

“No” you interrupted. “It's nice, reminds me of someone I know”. The memory of sheep skin gloves resurfaced once more. The hard look of determination in your father’s eyes as he was adamant to ignore every good piece of advice your adoptive uncle tried to give him.  

The loud clunk of the front door shutting caught both Ernies and your attention. You assumed it was Sara, returning from wherever she had darted off too. Instead, you saw the quickly approaching form of Alastor. One side of your mouth perked up.  

“Ready to start” Alastor quipped curtly. His smile was strained, and his gloved finger tapped incessantly on his crossed arms. Your smile grew into a full grin.  

Y/N: 2, Alastor:0 

~ 

The interview had gone swimmingly. Though Alastor by the end of it looked like he never wanted to see you again. A shame really, he had been quite fun. Though you suppose you could understand his frustrations. Considering his lack of wanting your attention, receiving a letter from his station delivered to your dressing room came as quite a surprise. The paper was crisp and heavy, making such satisfying noises as you opened it.  

Miss. Leroux, I must say it was quite a delight meeting you yesterday. I was not able to catch your interview with Al, but I’m told it was quite an intriguing listen. Though I think there may have been better hosts available for you to speak with. Forgive me if this seems odd, but I will be clearing up some paperwork at the station today, and I would like to see you there. I have some business propositions that I think you may find interesting.  

Regards,  

Gary Whitaker  

You set the letter down, thinking. Mr. Whitaker had been a bit brash, but he seemed fine. It seemed a little tacky trying to book you so soon after his coworker, but he seemed the type. You rose, grabbing your bag.  

There was no harm in hearing him out, you supposed.  

~ 

The skies had decided it was high time for them to open up as you walked to the station to meet Gary. The rain not dropping down in streams but rather falling from the sky in sheets. Your outfit was soaked as you entered, water dripping onto the worn carpet of the reception area. You tried opening the door to the back you’d gone in the day prior, only to find it locked. Three hard resounding knocks were given in your frustration. After a moment you decided whatever, he was trying to sell you wasn’t worth it, searching in your purse for your apartment keys. As your hand feebly searched you saw the distinct picture of them sitting on your dressing room vanity. You’d had them in your dress pocket, and had set them there when you were changing.  

Great, perfect! Now you were going to have to go back in the storm to retrieve your keys from the theatre. You only prayed someone was still there to let you in, or you’d be picking a lock with your hairpin again.  

That was only fun the first 40 or so times you’d done it.  

Just as a dramatic huff was on the precipice of exiting your lips, Gary opened the door.  

“There you are, sorry I wasn’t sure if there was knocking or if it was the storm.” Gary’s mood was light and joking, which right now, was mixing with your frustrated one like oil and water. He at least seemed to read the room quickly, letting out a crisp “Right” before leading you back. As you walked you couldn’t help but think the small space seemed so much bigger. The noise of typewriters and movement of bodies had taken up so much space before. Gary led you to an office, keeping the door open much to your delight.  

You didn’t fear being alone in a room with Gary. You didn’t fear being alone in a room with any man, or woman for the matter. All people breathed the same, and the expertly tied piece of rope that sat in the trick pocket of your dress stopped that breathing the same. But still, it was nice to have the escape route as a precaution.  

The hard polished wood of the chair in front of Gary’s desk was slick, combined with your soaked attire it was a chore to stay upright and not slide. You prayed to whatever deity could hear you that this wouldn't be long.  

“Well, I know you’re a very busy woman Miss, Leroux, so I won’t waste your time.” 

So, God was merciful after all.  

“I want you to be a voice on my radio drama”  

“Radio drama?” You raised an eyebrow. This was what he had dragged you out in the rain for? 

“Yes, I have this darling little dive character I’ve been wanting to introduce for a while, and you’d be perfect. You see the plot we have now is-” You tuned Gary out. You were already playing two characters here in America, one on the stage and one on the streets. You didn’t need to add a third in the studio. You tried your best to wait for a break in his pitch before stopping him.  

“Mr. Whitaker?” You said.  

“Please call me Gary.” You really didn’t want to, but you acquiesced none the nonetheless.  

“Gary, while I'm flattered you would choose me for this...” You gestured at him with your hand to give you the word he used, as if you didn’t remember it.  

“Radio drama” 

“Radio drama, right. While I’m flattered you would want me for this radio drama you have, it’s just not something I’m in the business of. I did the interview to promote the show, nothing more.” and for your own entertainment in flustering the host, but that wasn’t important.  

“Yes, you did it to promote the show.” Gary’s arms flailed as he spoke.  “This is to promote you. Your talents, your skills. This is for you.” His bid for goodwill was a facade you saw through immediately. He was doing this to use your name for his own advantage, not the other way around.  

“It’s just not something I can see myself doing Mr. Whitaker.” You reinforced the no, you’d dealt with this type of man before, if you gave them any lead, they’d never leave you be.  

Gary pushed himself away from the desk with a huff. “Figures. You’ll show up two hours early for Cal Al but won’t even hear me out when I’m trying to help you.”  

“Radio is just not something I’m interested in seriously branching out into” You crossed your legs, hand resting on your abdomen, inching ever closer to the trick pocket. Just in case.  

“Heh I wouldn’t be either if my first experiences with it were from Alastor blooming Altruist. Blast it all, I can't believe he lucked into success once again. He’s got Ernie in his pocket, and he walks around here like he’s invincible. Acting like some better than us big shot, when he’s the reason we have to keep the door locked! We can’t do photography with the press, have to do limited live events, all because he had to go and get famous as someone with his ’heritage’. We all have to suffer and be lesser just because Ernie still sees him as 13. Somebody outta tell him that he shouldn’t be running a business if he doesn’t see his employees as men. And somebody outta tell Alastor that he shouldn’t have gone into public broadcasting if all it takes is a second glance at him to tell that there is definitely one in the woo-” 

“Enough!” The chair slammed onto the floor, as you shot up. Your eyebrows furrowed and nose scrunched in disgust. This little tantrum of Gary’s had gone on long enough. And someone outta tell him what he needed to hear.  

~ 

Alastor reveled in the peace that came with broadcasting on Saturdays. The air was clean of noise, just him, the booth and radio waves. His co-workers all made digs at him, choosing to come in on a day they didn’t typically broadcast, but Alastor adored it. That’s what set him apart from his peers, he didn’t do this for the money, he did it for the love of the art. To hell with what those fools thought, outside of when he was feeling the life draining from someone's body, when it was just him and the mic was when he felt most alive.  

So, he was disappointed and surprised to find that he was not the only one at the studio today. Sitting in his office alone, it was easy to make out the noises of someone else mucking about the place. No matter, they probably didn’t even know he was there. He was a good few hours early for the show.  

Having Y/n in his space had made him realize just how disorganized it was. And how self-conscious Y/n pointing that fact out to him had made him feel. Now was as good a time as any to remedy that situation so it never happened again. Not that he planned on inviting Y/n back again but still.  

He wasn’t taking any more chances with that woman.  

Three loud knocks gave Alastor a jolt. He got his bearing once more and rose. Perhaps the other person did notice that he was there and had locked themselves out. Just as he made his way to open the office door, he heard a male voice speak. He couldn’t quite make out who it was. He then heard two sets of feet walking into the building. One in shoes, one in heels. A man and a woman.   

Alastor waited as the sound of footsteps passed his office. He waited till the sounds of clicking stopped completely before cracking open the door and peering out. He could hear voices coming from down the hall. Intrigued, he crept his way out slowly, silencing himself much like he did on hunts. As he neared, he made out the male voice to be Gary’s. The rhythm of his speech familiar. He was pitching his radio drama to someone.  

Boring. 

Alastor turned on his heel making his way back, still being cautious to be quiet. The last thing he needed was Gary to find him here. He was just about back when a long, rough squeak of a chair being pushed back caught his attention. Gary’s voice had risen in pitch and sounded upset.  

No longer boring. Alastor made his way over again, quicker this time, using the raised voices as a cover for his footfall. He knelt down outside of Gary’s door, hearing him in the midst of an angry rant.  

“- We all have to suffer and be lesser just because Ernie still sees him as 13. Somebody outta tell him that he shouldn’t be running a business if he doesn’t see his employees as men. And somebody outta tell Alastor that he shouldn’t have gone into public broadcasting if all it takes is a second glance at him to tell that there is definitely one in the woo-” 

“Enough!” The unexpected sound of the chair hitting the floor nearly knocked Alastor off his balance, thankful he was flush against the wall.  

“Mr. Whitaker, I’m not sure if you conduct all business meetings this way but I must say I do not find it in the least bit amusing.”  

Alastor knew that voice. That was Y/n. That sneaky son of a bitch was trying to recruit less than 48 hours after his interview.  

Tasteless tactless hack.  

“Now since you have thoroughly wasted my time here and ruined my shoes, I’d advise you to listen up, so at least someone gets something from this evening. “Alastor could hear her take in a harsh breath.  

“If you were half the radio host you say you are, you wouldn’t need to put your coworkers down to lift yourself up. I say if you're as grand and good as you say you are why don’t you leave? Certainly, another station would love to have such a fine gentleman on their staff. And then you wouldn’t be bogged down by such supposed restrictions. But something tells me that you tried that. And no one would have you, so you just have to suck it up and stew in your pity party here. Because you're not good enough, and you can’t stand that someone else is.”  

Alastor’s mind was racing. Was Y/n... defending him? He felt a small twinge in his heart. Of all the things he’d have expected her to do in this scenario, that was not one of them.  

This woman just kept throwing him for a loop.  

“And” Alastor could hear the clipping of heels on the floor. “If I catch even a whiff of you continuing to tout this Alastor’s heritage blame game bullshit, I think I may just find myself becoming quite loose lipped about the nature of yours and Mrs. Welch’s relationship.”  

Alastor’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. His mind to stunned in the moment to comprehend Y/n’s defense of his being mixed race--Ernie’s wife and Gary? No, it... Y/n couldn’t be implying what he thought she was implying.  

“How could you-” Y/n cut Gary off. 

“Oh please it wasn't that hard. You leave off yesterday all in a tizzy and suddenly she’s taking off without a word in the same direction? Then you both come back together looking quite pleased with yourselves? And Sara’s lipstick is gone off her face? You might as well slap her ass in front of the whole office. It'd be subtler. "  

Alastor was right, he did like Y/n’s games a lot better when they weren’t directed at him.  

~ 

The door to your dressing room slammed shut as you entered, stopping furiously as you snatched your keys off the vanity table. Someone was still here, or they forgot to lock up. No matter, that was the furthest thing from your mind. Steam was still rolling off you from your encounter with Gary. You took no joy in feeding him his lunch so to speak. It only angered you, because whatever joy you could derive from seeing him knocked down a peg, was quickly cancelled out by the realization that the world was being run by buffoons like him. At least when things like this happened in Paris, your father and you had outlets to let it out. Both savory and unsavory. Now you were wound up, a spring coiled with no release switch. A jack-in-the-box on its penultimate note.  

“Oh Miss Leroux, you’re still here. I could have sworn it was just me here” A middle aged costume woman called from the hallway. She was curt, fine if not a bit of a bitch. Then again, most customers were to some degree. 

As the rage festered and boiled within you, your hand instinctively rested over the trick pocket of your dress.  

Perhaps there was at least one outlet you could utilize.  

[musicalmystery]

Alastor x gn! Morningstar! reader

Warning:angst,greif, anger, character death

Everything stopped. You’re beloved, the love of your life died a second time as he faded into the shadows because of Adam. Rage filled inside you, rage like nothing you have ever felt before. Alastor was always your safe place, your sanctuary. The one person who you could unapologetically be yourself around without receiving any judgement or criticism. He loved you unconditionally and he was gone in the blink of an eye. You always admired his confidence but it led to his demise thinking that him and his own weapon would be enough to defeat the angels.

Why didn’t he just use an angelic weapon? It didn’t matter now, what’s done is done and there’s no turning back. You can still make Adam suffer just as much as he made you. Blinded by rage, you grabbed an angelic sword with one thought on your mind. Alastor will have his peace. You charged at Adam taking him by surprise, before he had time to react you stabbed his stomach. You twisted the sword in his gut making it as painful as possible.

You pulled out the sword making Adam fall, letting his wounds get infected. You didn’t care, you towered over him and punched him in the face letting all your pain and grief making sure that he felt the same as you did. You continued to punch him and punch him even after Adam was nothing but a corpse. You were so invested with causing Adam pain that you didn’t notice your friends and family surrounding you with concern on their faces until someone put a hand on your shoulder snapping you out of it. You looked to see who it was and saw your dad kneeling next to. “Dad…” you trailed off not finding the right words to say. Without saying a word Lucifer pulled you into a hug and the barrier broke.

You sobbed into his shoulder clutching his shirt like he was your life line. Your little sister, Charlie, joined the hug too. It has bee so long since you last let yourself cry, you took care of your father after your mom left taking Charlie with her because he was a mess. You had so much pressure placed upon you being the first born and being the future ruler of Hell. You never allowed yourself to show any real genuine emotion until you and Alastor became close. He’s gone now but you always have Charlie and Lucifer. Sometimes you just need a reminder of that.