Nightmare Ranch | An Alastor x Reader Lemon Series

Misty and Trigger

I heard the crunch of tires on gravel as I was mucking stalls. Setting the pitch fork off to the side where a Night Mare couldn't step on it, I wiped my hands on my jeans and stepped outside. Alastor's town car pulled down the drive way and parked in front of my house. 

The lanky deer demon stepped out of the back seat, peering around. When his eyes fell on me in my dirty work clothes, his psychotic grin stretched across his features. 

"Well, good morning, my dear." He greeted, coming over to me. I smiled slightly, noticing that already his slacks were getting a healthy coating of dust. 

Giving him a firm handshake, I replied, "Good morning to you too. Ready to see some Night Mares?" He gave me another crooked smile as an answer. With a wave, I led him inside the barn I had been mucking out. 

In a stall back in a quiet corner, a Night Mare was munching at a bail of hay with her wobbly newborn colt pressed next to her side. Leaning against the stall door, I patted the skeletal horse's neck. 

"This is Misty," I introduced her, then pointing at the colt, "And that little guy is Trigger." Alastor leaned over and gently stroked the Night Mare's neck. Misty nickered softly as she continued munching on hay. 

"They're beautiful." Alastor said absentmindedly. I let him gaze at the horses for a while before saying anything else. 

"I haven't seen a horse since Roosevelt's first Fireside Chat." He mused, a slight grin on his face. I cocked my head to the side.

"Who is Roosevelt?" I asked, curious. Alastor's gaze turned to me now, surprised. 

"The President of the United States when I was alive." He replied, still staring at me. 

"Hun, James Buchanan President when I died." I said simply.

After doing some quick math in his head, Alastor exclaimed, "You died in 1858?" I broke out in laughter at his surprise. 

"They buried me in Denver, right after some trussed up whore shot me." I chuckled, "Didn't even get a priest to bless my body." Alastor gave me a curious look, intrigued. 

 I explained, "Someone said one thing, someone said another, and next thing I know the little bitch was challenging me to a duel. Bad luck for me, my pistol misfired."

"No husband or children to mourn you?" Alastor asked, "You went clear out to Colorado on your own?" 

I burst out in another bought of laughter as I replied, "Heavens no. I was going out there to meet my future husband. But he got killed in a bar brawl, and I didn't have many prospects on my own. So out of necessity, I became a soiled dove." Alastor raised an eyebrow at my bluntness.  

"Soiled dove?" He said, curious.

"Hooker, whore, lady of the evening," I waved my hand nonchalantly, "Take your pick." His jaw dropped. We stared at each other for a moment before either of us spoke again. 

"So when you came to Hell, you decided to open a ranch?" He changed the subject. 

"Something like that," I replied, turning my gaze to watch Trigger stand up on shaky legs before walking over to his mother, "I always wanted to when I was alive. But different time, different morals. I got my chance about twenty years ago, and I took it." Alastor's surprise turned into a defiant grin.

"A cowgirl at heart then?" He said, peering intently at me as I still watched the Night Mares. 

"Born and bred." I replied, "It's getting late. I've got a pot of ham and beans in the crock pot. Want some lunch?" 

"Sounds wonderful." Alastor grinned his wide, insane smile at me as he offered me his arm, "It's been a long time since I had ham and beans and I would enjoy seeing how a cowgirl makes it."