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cherryrainn · 1 year

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Hazbin Hotel (specifically Alastor) songfic with a female reader completely based off the Hell's Coming With Me (poor man's poison) song???? Like, Maybe reader was a huge and powerful overlord who died in the 1700 or so (like in end of the western era) and basically was a very feared thief and killer when alive so when she finally died (she got caught and they put her on the train tracks) and came to the underworld she was hell of a powerful demon. And like when Alastor came to the picture after he died he and reader hated each other to death but in a respectful way (like they hated each other because they were a good rival) until one day Alastor finally 'killed' the reader. And what happens in the fic is that reader comes back decades after 'being killed', and she is now an even more powerfull being??

DUUDE!! I LOVE THIS SONG IM SO EXCITED TO WRITE THIS OH MY GOD

☽ ༚ ༵ ۰ ✧ ۰ ༵ ༚ ༵ ۰ ✧ ۰

— hell's comin' with me

alastor x female reader (platonic)

song link; click here

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.

he said, i'll be back when you least expect it

alastor's reputation reached your ears, and a sense of rivalry ignited within you. the stories of his power and charm resonated with your own thirst for dominance. although you had arrived in hell long before him, fate had woven a tale that would eventually intertwine your destinies.

and hell's coming with me

as time passed, whispers of your rivalry echoed through the depths of hell. demons watched with bated breath, intrigued by the clash of two formidable forces. your encounters were marked by tense standoffs and battles of wits, each trying to outmaneuver the other.

hell's coming with me

one day, with alastor and his dapper figure standing tall amidst the aftermath, locked eyes with you, the formidable outlaw who had found her place in hell.

"there is a hill at the bottom of the valley"

the words echoed in your mind, a haunting reminder of the fate that awaited all souls in this realm.

"where all the poor souls go when they die"

a tension hung in the air as alastor and you locked eyes.

and if you listen real close,

you can hear 'em like a ghost,

saying you're never gonna make it out alive.

a flicker of amusement danced across alastor's face, his voice dripping with sardonic charm. "ah, my dear rival, it seems the spirits themselves have spoken. can't you hear them? the echoes of doubt, whispering that your demise is inevitable."

your gaze narrowed, determination burning in your eyes. "don't mistake their voices for truth, alastor. i've faced death before, and i've always come out on top." you smirked.

a wicked grin curled alastor's lips as he leaned in, his voice laced with mocking condescension. "oh, how entertaining it is to witness your misplaced confidence. the town at the bottom of the hill, the secret they keep... you think you can defy them all? you underestimate the power that resides within their grasp."

there is a town at the bottom of that hill,

they got a secret that they keep like a slave.

they got a black magic preacher,

we'd do well to let him teach her.

you'll be heading up that hill to the grave.

the tension between alastor and you reached its boiling point, escalating into a full-blown clash.

and it is well, with my soul,

with lightning speed, you drew your gun, which was technically a part of you as it just came down with you, the power it held was amazing. your movements fluid and precise. the room reverberated with the resounding echoes of gunfire, as bullets whizzed through the air, each aimed with deadly accuracy. alastor, equally skilled and nimble, danced through the chaos, evading your shots with a devilish grace.

you line your pockets full of money that you steal from the poor

the clash of power and skill was a sight to behold, as the air crackled with energy. each blow you landed, each bullet that found its mark, only seemed to fuel alastor's determination. his grin widened, a glimmer of sadistic delight dancing in his eyes.

despite your formidable abilities, alastor seemed to possess an otherworldly strength, a power that surpassed limits. blow after blow, he deflected your attacks with unnerving ease, countering with a ferocity that left you reeling.

the wounds you inflicted upon each other painted a macabre tapestry on your bodies, a testament to the brutal struggle for dominance. but even in the face of adversity, neither of you backed down.

yet, in a moment of unforeseen precision, alastor seized an opening. his movements became a blur, an unstoppable force that overwhelmed your defenses. with a final strike, he delivered a blow that sent you sprawling to the ground.

and on your way down the hill, you hear me ring that bell

the room fell into an eerie silence as alastor stood over you, his victory palpable in the air. the fight had taken its toll, and your body lay motionless on the cold, unforgiving ground.

a wicked smile curved alastor's lips as he observed his fallen rival. his voice dripped with cruel satisfaction. "oh, how the mighty have fallen. your skills were impressive, but in the end, my dominance reigns supreme."

the battle had come to a devastating conclusion, and the denizens of hell watched in a mixture of awe and terror. alastor's victory was undeniable

and the price he paid for challenging you was steep.

i'd pay the devil twice as much to keep your soul

decades had passed since the fateful encounter that led to your supposed demise. but now, in a twist of fate, you returned to the realm of hell, and transformed into an even more powerful being. as you ventured through the hellscape, your presence went unnoticed by alastor and the other inhabitants.

there was a drifter passing through that little valley

at first, you reveled in the anonymity, relishing the element of surprise that shrouded your true identity.

she had promised she was coming back to town

alastor and the denizens of hell had no inkling that the being before them was the same one they believed to have perished long ago.

they didn't know her by her face, or by the gun around her waist.

with each passing encounter, you showcased newfound strength and abilities that surpassed anything they had witnessed before. your presence was a force to be reckoned with, leaving those around you awestruck and uncertain of the true nature of your being.

but she come back to burn that town to the ground

in the aftermath of chaos, fire engulfed the once-proud "town" billowing smoke rising to the neverending sky.

first there was fire, then there was smoke, then that preacher man was hangin' by a rope.

alastor, drawn by the carnage, arrived at the scene, his eyes scanning the destruction with a mix of curiosity and concern. and amidst the ruins, a figure emerged, cloaked in darkness, the embodiment of vengeance.

yeah, destruction was normal here,

but it ever wasn't this bad.

then they all fell to their knees and begged that drifter

as the chaos settled, the townsfolk, once arrogant and prideful, now humbled by their impending demise, fell to their knees in desperate supplication. they pleaded for mercy from the drifter they had wronged, their voices laced with fear and regret.

no sinner could actually kill these folk. what was going on?

begged her please, as she raised her fist before she spoke

as the smoke cleared, your figure emerged from the shadows, a manifestation of both righteous fury and an unforgiving darkness. alastor's gaze locked onto you, a flicker of understanding crossing his face.

"i am the righteous hand of god, and i am the devil that you forgot!"

your voice resonated with a newfound authority, each word punctuating the truth that had been hidden for so long.

and i told you one day you will see

that i'll be back i guarantee

and that hell's coming, hell's coming,

hell, hell's coming with me.

your eyes locked onto alastor's, both filled with the weight of their respective histories. in that moment, the intensity of your shared animosity hung thick in the air. a brief exchange of words passed between you, laden with a mixture of bitterness and respect.

and it is well, with my soul,

you line your pockets full of money that you steal from the poor.

"you've returned, my dear rival," alastor drawled, a hint of intrigue mingling with his ever-present smirk.

"i've come to claim what is rightfully mine," you replied, your voice tinged with a steely resolve.

the clash began, a symphony of power and skill. blow after blow, your strength surpassed even alastor's expectations,

and on your way down to hell, you hear me ring that bell

your relentless assault pushed alastor to his limits, the battle teetering on a razor's edge.

the moment of truth arrived, the battle reaching its climax. you easily had alastor cornered, victory within your grasp. but as your eyes locked with his, something stirred within you—a flicker of recognition and a shared history that transcended the present.

in that fleeting moment, a decision was made. without uttering a single word, you spared him, stepping back and relinquishing the opportunity for a final strike with a growl.

and i said,

hell's coming with me.

with a nod of acknowledgment, you walked away, leaving the fallen demon behind.

alastor watched as you walked away, a mixture of curiosity and a renewed sense of purpose ignited within him, the encounter with you shifting his perspective in unforeseen ways.

he sighs, leaning his head backwards and against the ground.

"well, my dear outlaw. i must say, you've proven to be quite the enigma, to spare me when victory was within your grasp, that's a choice that defies the very essence of our rivalry."

note; my 2nd songfic with alastor. i just wanna say, i had the time of my life writing this! it was so much fun, can't wait for more requests like this one in the future!

#alastor #y/n #reader insert #x reader #hazbin hotel #songfic #THIS WAS SO MUCH FUN #i love this so much #hell's comin with me #western era #female reader #fem reader #alastor x reader #platonic #ask #hazbin hotel oneshot #hazbin hotel x reader

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asaarii · 7 months

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cheeeeeeeseeeeeeeee~~~~ talon mini series bc i love him and he doesn't get like any love... ALSO HIGH NOON BC I SAID SO and yone legendary :33 okay time to disappear again ta ta

ft: high noon!talon (league of legends)

reader: fem

wc: 2017

summary: after the fall of heaven, you're left to wander the mortal plain with nothing but a dead-end job and a mark on your hand binding you to a brother who you once thought dead. they say the west is cruel, but you weren't expecting to be reunited with the man you loathed most.

part i (here!) part ii

There’s a distinct creak that echoes through the air as the swinging doors open. The bar silences, all eyes turning to glance at the newcomer from beneath the hem of their worn leather hats before deeming him not worth their time and returning to their previous activities.

His boots click as he slowly stalks toward the front of the bar, the odd blades at the ends of his cape rattle noisily, clinking together with every step. His face remains hidden by the downward tilt of his head, obscured by the pristine hat accented by rims of gold. It isn’t long till he takes a seat at your station, waving you down with a flick of his wrist.

As you approach, your breath hitches. He’s smirking, scrutinizing your every move with an amused quirk of his brow. But what grabs your attention is his eyes, well, eye as one of them is covered by a black eyepatch with similar golden accents as the rest of his outfit. There’s something not quite human about his gaze and devilish smirk, yet you don’t allow his strange aura to deter you. You had a job to do, after all.

“Well, ain’t you a pretty sight?” The man lets out a low whistle, his smirk ever-present as his gaze lands on your gloved hand, which you quickly tuck away behind your work skirt upon feeling his gaze. He quirks a brow but doesn’t push, which you’re grateful for. Heaven knows that the folks in this town are far too nosy than they ought to be. Sweat begins to gather at the base of your neck, though whether it's from the high noon’s unforgiving heat, or from his stare, you aren’t quite sure.

You force yourself to remain calm. “What can I get you today, sir?” The buzz of the bar does little to distract you from the alluring stranger as he lets out a deep chuckle. You fiddle with your skirt when he dips his head to the side with a shrug, brushing aside the feeling in your gut telling you to run. In all honesty, you really should’ve.

“Whatever you recommend, miss.”

If he took note of your apprehension, he gave you the grace of not commenting on it, merely watching you pour a small cup of water from a lukewarm pitcher. The glass is then placed before him with a resounding thud, with a few of the droplets splashing onto his clothes and the counter.

“There you go, a mighty fine glass of water all for you, sir.” You ignore his stare in favor of wiping down the now-wet counter. He snorts, and you know he has a wide grin plastered on his face even if you can’t see it.

“Just water? And here I thought we hit it off, miss.”

Now it's your turn to snort, narrowing your eyes at the strange newcomer with a sneer. “We don’t do freeloaders ‘round here, sir. Sorry to disappoint.” You turn away from him to make your way over to a different customer when the sound of a pouch of coins hitting wood draws your attention swiftly back to the newcomer.

The whole bar seems to come to a standstill as the shimmering gold rolls across the countertop.

Tobias Felix looks up from his shuffled deck of cards, blue eyes falling to the coins with piqued interest. It’s rare to see the man away from Buzzard Gulch, and you can’t say you find yourself at ease with his presence, especially when he keeps his cards so close to his chest.

(Never trust a man with too many secrets; a saying befitting of your current predicament.)

The famed Gunpowder Witch lets out a low whistle as she props her feet on the table despite your numerous complaints. Her left hand dutifully twirls one of her guns—Blaze, you recall her naming it—while the other tightly grips a bounty from the Mechanical Devil himself. The amount in the pouch is significantly less than the amount on the bounty, but out here in the west, all coin is good coin.

Your nostrils flare and your eyes glint with an unmatched hellfire that would send the Mechanical Devil himself running with his tail between his legs. “Fine,” you spit venomously, “what can I getcha, sir?”

“A moment of your time would suffice.” The man leans against the counter, taking the hand that lay resting on the counter before placing a chaste kiss on the silk glove.

As if burned, you quickly draw your hand back, reeling away as disgust paints your features. “A moment of my—! Do I look like a common whore?!” Had it not been for the manager coming to step in, there is no doubt in your mind that you would’ve struck the man. With a hand firmly clasped over your mouth, you’re unable to voice your complaints as your manager smiles.

A dangerous look crosses the outsider’s face, but it’s quickly replaced with a mirroring plastered smile.

“Pleasure doin’ business with you, kind sir.” Your manager tightens his grip on you, sticking his hand out for the strange man to shake.

“Much obliged.”

With the tip of a hat and the snatching of coin, you find yourself in the devil’s hold, deliberately avoiding his piercing gaze as he leads you away from the bar. Dust kicks up beneath your feet, dirtying the whiteness of your dress into the same barren shade of brown as the dirt. Once you deem yourself far away from wandering eyes, you tear yourself away from him.

“You!” You press your gloved finger to his chest, unable to withhold your thinly veiled anger.

“Well, hello to you too, darlin’.” He peels your hand off of his chest, once more placing a kiss on the back, though this time he removes the glove, revealing the half mark of grief inked into your skin.

(One half on you, and the other on your brother; two sides of the same coin.)

“Miss me, angelface?” His tone is light yet mocking as he peels off the eye patch. One of his arms sneaks around your waist, pulling you flush against him, much to your chagrin.

“I ain’t ever miss a devil.” You resist the urge to spit in his pretty face. His eyes, forever soulless, burn bright beneath the scorching sky of the high noon, amusement dancing in the two-toned irises as he forces you into a crude waltz.

“Naw, can’t hide it from me, angelface. You’re still as shitty a liar as y’always been.”

Twisting and turning to an unheard rhythm, his hand entwines with your ungloved hand; calloused and rough through years of merciless killing. You try to pull away from him but his grip remains firm.

“And you’re still a connivin’ sonuva—!”

His movements are sudden and hidden, yet still as precise as they’ve always been.

You gasp as a blade pierces through your midsection, the cold steel bringing the familiar feeling of a harrowing death as it pushes deeper.

It burns.

The mark on your hand pulses, no doubt your brother on the other end restarting the process of grief.

Golden blood trickles from the open wound, tainted by mortal air and a devil’s blade. You can only gape at him as he smiles down ruefully at you, bearing the same expression he bore all those years ago. You grasp weakly at his throat in an attempt to choke him, unable to voice your anger and grief with the blood rising in your throat. Your body falls as he drops you, but your soul is quick to stand again, gazing down at your corpse as it dissipates into a golden light.

The barren land cracks beneath your feet as you give up resisting, giving way to the hidden tracks beneath. The tracks of utter damnation.

A train horn sounds in the distance, followed shortly by the distinct sound of wheels on rails, chugging along the beaten tracks as the Sulfur Rail draws ever closer. You smell it before you see it; the intangible scent of burnt matches and rotting eggs pervading your senses even as you scrunch your nose at its distasteful smell.

It isn’t long until the train comes to a standstill, pausing before the two of you with the deafening screech of metal on metal. The devil—ever the utmost gentleman—steps on first, gripping onto the rusted rail as he extends his other hand to you.

His smirk widens as you take his hand, conjuring a fan to hide your expression as well as an attempt to block out the Sulfur Rail’s foul stench. Its white feathers fall with every movement, fading to black before disintegrating as they hit the ground.

(Similar to a lot of folks you know, your brother in particular.)

You tune out his conversation with the ticket taker both out of spite and boredom, focusing your attention instead on the multitude of souls meandering about. Angels, devils, humans—all on a one-way ride to hell, paid in full by the mechanical devil-king himself. You see a few familiar faces amongst the sea of souls, though one in particular eludes you. Shrugging to yourself, you make your way down the rows of seats, both empty and occupied.

Anger still simmers beneath the surface of your skin despite your lack of outward resistance. The man takes a seat across from you, his face schooled into a more familiar look of annoyance and perpetual anger, unlike his suave facade from earlier.

You hate how he still looks attractive after all these years of nothing but silence between the two of you. You hate how he speaks so casually with you as if nothing happened after the downfall of Heaven—your home. Snapping your fan shut, you look at him, looking for any subtle shift in his features brought upon by time. His frown lines, the imminent scowl that’s taken over the plastic smile he clung to at the bar, the shaggy silver hair beneath his hat, and you could never forget the hidden blades just barely peeking from the cuffs of his shirt and knives in the holster at his hip.

Nope, he’s exactly the same. Just as you suspected.

“Why didja bring me here, Talon?”

“Lookin’ for somethin’ and you’re the only one who can help me find it, angelface.” That all-knowing look in his back on his slappable face and your jaw clenches tight beneath your teeth at the mere sight of it.

Your hand clasps over the mark visible on your ungloved hand as if protecting the bond from outside gazes—from Talon’s gaze. “Varus ain’t gonna help you. I wouldn’t help ya if it meant all the gold in the world.”

He cocks a brow, tilting his hat back slightly with his thumb as he looks at you, really looks at you, “You ain’t never cared for gold before.”

Melancholy settles over the anger, cooling its hellfire-like blaze into a manageable ember. “People change, Talon, but s’good to see you’re still as insufferable as ever.” You’re quick to recollect your fallen expression. “But that ain’t the point. Why d’you needa speak to Varus anyway? Pretty sure he’s still got that grudge of his.”

“Can’t a guy catch up with an old friend?”

You bring a hand up to quell your growing headache—can the dead get headaches? You digress. You stare hard at him, trying to piece together what in the world he was on about. “Right. The two of you were such good friends, weren’tcha?” Sarcasm drips from your tone as you roll your eyes, and he snorts in response.

“We were pretty close though, hm? All cozy n’ warm.”

“I reckon it’s high time you shut your damn mouth, demon.”

Talon hums, raising his hands in faux surrender before finally allowing you a moment of respite.

Resigning yourself to an unknown fate, you lean back into the train’s seat with a tired sigh. “I ain’t spoken to Varus in centuries, y’know?”

“Why’s that?” He’s smirking again. That damn twisted smirk that’s seared into the forefront of your mind.

You hate him.

“‘Cause you killed ‘em.”

#league of legends #league of legends—・❥#mini series—・❥#Hell's Comin' With Me—・❥#league of legends x reader #talon #talon league of legends #talon x reader #talon du couteau #talon du couteau x reader #high noon talon #high noon talon x reader

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