HELL'S COMIN WITH ME . (platonic alastor x female reader songfic)

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alastor x female reader (platonic)

alastor x female reader (platonic)

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in the crimson depths of hell's domain, you, a once-feared outlaw who had perished in the final days of the wild west, roamed with an air of undeniable power

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in the crimson depths of hell's domain, you, a once-feared outlaw who had perished in the final days of the wild west, roamed with an air of undeniable power. your reputation preceded you, even in the underworld. clad in dark leather, your eyes burned with a fierce determination, matching the intensity of your gun-slinging skills.

years later, after countless exploits in hell, a new figure emerged—a sinner known as alastor, he was a serial killer before he got to hell. his arrival in 1933 marked a turning point in the hierarchy of the underworld. alastor, with his dapper appearance and sinister grin, quickly made his mark among the denizens of hell.

they all laughed as he turned around slow

the denizens of hell chuckled mockingly as alastor, the charismatic demon overlord, turned around slowly, his signature smile playing upon his lips. their laughter filled the air, underestimating the power that lay beneath his charming facade.

but you, stood apart from the crowd, a knowing smirk on your face. while the others laughed, you recognized the depths of alastor's cunning and the danger he posed.

they said you ain't welcome 'round here anymore

as the denizens of hell continued to laugh, their voices echoing through the darkened corridors, alastor's smile widened. the amusement of the crowd was but fuel to his twisted desires.

you just might as well go

with a wave of his hand, alastor's sinister power surged forth, engulfing those who had dared to mock him. the once boisterous laughter turned into terrified screams as their bodies contorted and twisted under the weight of their own fear.

he wiped the blood from his face as he slowly came to his knees

alastor wiped the blood from his face with a gloved hand, his grin never wavering even in the face of his recent carnage. the room was now a tableau of macabre artistry, the lifeless bodies scattered like discarded puppets.

a hush fell over the chamber, broken only by the echoes of his own laughter. the metallic scent of blood lingered in the air, a reminder of the power he had unleashed upon those who dared to mock him.

𝐇𝐀𝐙𝐁𝐈𝐍 𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐋 𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐒Where stories live. Discover now