Nightmare Ranch | An Alastor x Reader Lemon Series

Chilling on a Dirt Road

I lit the cigarette as I steered the beat up pickup with one knee. The scent of tobacco mingled with sweat, horse, and hay, reminding me of the chores still needing to be done when I got home. That stock tank still needed patched, and it needed done soon. 

Sighing at the thought, I turned up the radio, hearing Garth Brook's voice over the rumbling of the truck,

"Blame it all on my roots

I showed up in boots

And ruined your black tie affair
The last one to know
The last one to show
I was the last one
You thought you'd see there
And I saw the surprise
And the fear in his eyes
When I took his glass of champagne
And I toasted you
Said, honey, we may be through
But you'll never hear me complain'Cause I've got friends in low places
Where the whiskey drowns
And the beer chases my blues away
And I'll be okay
I'm not big on social graces
Think I'll slip on down to the oasis
Oh, I've got friends in low places"

I sang along as I smoked, smirking at the irony of the lyrics. Maybe I should go down the bar tonight. I hadn't been in months and drinking on the ranch alone did get old after awhile. Yes, that is exactly what I'd do tonight...right after the chores.

"What the hell..." I muttered, snapped out of my day dream. A fancy town car was broken down on the side of the dirt road. A driver was attempting to peek under the hood while a tall, lanky deer demon in a red suit stood by. Slowing down, I pulled over behind them.

Stepping out of the truck cab, I hollered, "Ya'll need a hand?" The deer demon turned to me, his crimson gaze taking me by surprise.

"That would be very much appreciated, my dear." He said in a smooth voice. I gave him a nod and a slight smile before peeking around to see under the hood. 

"Belt's busted," I said to no one in particular, "I got a couple at the ranch. One might fit." The deer demon raised an eyebrow. 

"Come on," I waved, "Jump in, I'll get you the belt." Without waiting for a reply, I headed back towards the truck.

"I think I'll stay with the car." The driver said uncertainly. The deer demon shrugged, and followed me. 

"I'm (Y/N)," I introduced myself as I shut the driver's side door. 

"Alastor," The deer demon replied, "A pleasure to meet you." His manners brought out a slight southern twang, something I didn't hear often. An abundance of Baptist churches in the south meant less southerners down below in the burning ring of fire. 

"I don't meet many southerners down here." I attempted small talk, "Where were you from?"

"Georgia." Alastor answered, a psychotic grin spreading across his face, "And you, my dear?"

"Same state," I chuckled, "Good to meet a kindred spirit." Pun intended. We rode in silence for the rest of the trip, the grinding of gravel underneath the tires making conversation a struggle anyway. 

After thirty minutes, my ranch started to come into view. Home sweet home.

Slowing down so Alastor could hear me, I said, "Well, Alastor, welcome to Nightmare Ranch."