• 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐲'𝐬 𝐓𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐂𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 • Alastor x Reader

𝐎𝐧𝐞.

"Hey, watch it, kid!" a man with a gruff voice hollered after you harshly pushed past him, in a hurry to your destination. A huge, giddy smile on your face as you held the strap of your heavy book bag, strung from your left shoulder and falling to your right hip. "Sorry, sir!" you cried over your shoulder, watching as he simply straightened his suit out and continued on his way.

The mindless buzz of the streets filled your ears, horses trotting down the roads while richer men drove in their automobiles. And all the others? Others had to catch the train. That was where you were headed now, flats tapping against the sidewalk quickly, your hair blowing behind you as you scurried up the steps to the station. Your train was set to leave mere seconds from now, your heart frantically pumping blood throughout your entire body as you ran.

People jumped out of your way, watching in silent dissatisfaction as you sprinted full speed (which was quite unladylike, in most's eyes) for the platform. Loud shrieking of metal on metal alerted you of the train's departure; the low, heavy clunks of each rod giving it a slow start, just barely gifting you enough time to run for one of the open doors. An aged man was stood there in a uniform and hat, about to close the door when you cried out.

"Hey, hold on! Keep it open!" His head snapped in your direction, visible shock painted on his face when he saw you gaining on him. He was dumbfounded, unsure of what to do. After all, it wasn't everyday you saw a young woman at the age of twenty two running as fast as she possibly could to catch a train that had already begun moving. The man fumbled with the gate-like door, struggling to keep it open.

"You heard the woman, keep the door open!" a masculin voice hissed from within the train, the ticket collector being harshly torn away from the entrance as your legs' strength began to to dwindle. A man with caramel skin stuck his head out of the doorway once the little gate had been drawn open fully, reaching a gloved hand for you to take. His neatly done auburn hair beginning to grow disheveled from the wind raking its claws through it. Forcing the last of your strength into your legs, you clasped your hand in his, feeling his grip tighten around yours before he hauled you into the safety of the train just as it began to pick up some real speed.

"Thank you so much, sir," you panted, leaning up against the entryway while the man who had helped you adjusted his glasses a little. "Think nothing of it, my dear! I know how it feels to miss a train," he said with a chuckle, holding his hand out to you in silent greeting. Though that silence was ripped apart when he spoke again, "Do call me Alastor! I don't believe formalities are in place." With a warm smile on your face, you gave one last huff of breath before shaking his outstretched hand.

"(Y/n), thank you again, Alastor..." The man looked a little shocked at how calm you seemed. Shouldn't you be bounding around with joy at the chance of even being in his presence, let alone talking to him? That's how most women reacted...

Perhaps you were just a little out of breath! Once you had recovered, you would definitely give him the squeals and cries everybody else did. That horribly annoying noise that got so old after the first two months. Sure, he was flattered to know he caught the eye of many, he was a rather appealing-looking fellow, after all. But those people got on his nerves far too easily. No matter, though! He always signed the autograph they so desperately desired!

"Do you have a ticket, ma'am?" the ticket collector that had been taken out of the picture earlier was now holding his wrinkly hand expectantly towards you, a weak frown settling on your face as you tugged your leather bag open and began searching for the demanded item. It took a few (rather embarrassing) moments, but you soon pulled out a yellowish ticket and handed it to the elderly man. His lips smacked together, glasses being moved onto his crooked nose while his eyes darted over the pass.