Let’s make a deal 01. — Alastor
Description: A man stumbled through hell, looking for a deal. A rather simple deal, in the return of his son's death, he'd do anything. In your long existence many have offered the same deal, however none of their victims in mind were so compelling. Unlike Alastor.
Warnings: Attempted murder.
Paring: Human Alastor x Overlord F!Reader
SERIES MASTERLIST
Your name echoed fear throughout your territory in Pride. Many souls came to you, wanting, pleading. Deals was an overlord’s specialty. Sinners would sell their souls away, not realizing its value. You delighted in their look when they realized what’s done is done. Everything is at a price, and everyone has to pay it.
Your manor loomed over your district, and it was there you stayed. Very rarely would you make yourself shown to the public. Instead they would come to you. Some days you’d entertain them, some days you didn’t even open the door for them. Sinners were all greedy, but in your district they learned patience is what’s more to win your favor.
It was one of the days your gates were open. Welcoming to the public. Someone had already sold their soul to you for riches. It was a pathetic ask in your opinion. The sinner had the power of an overlord, and decided that money would suffice for the price of his soul.
Still, it was sinners like them that helped you gain your power. The more souls and overlord owns, the more powerful they become.
Your might wasn’t tested, your grip was strong throughout your territory that even Carmilla Carmine respected you.
However it was Rosie that was your favorite. A hell born cannibal that owned all of cannibal town. Marry to her husband, Franklin.
“Please!” A sinner barged into the room, desperation washing over him in waves. You paused waiting for him to continue. “My son, you have to kill my son!”
From the looks of it the man looked to be insane. Probably a new arrival to hell.
“Why?” You asked, your voice demanding of an answer.
“He killed me! His mother cheated and then he killed me!” The sinner seethed. “That bastard born shouldn’t be alive.” Hate sneered through the sinner's voice. No wonder he ended up in hell.
“If I do this for you, what will this gain for me?” The sound leaving your lips was spoken in an elegant way. You were composed while the sinner in front of you seemed to be manic.
“Anything!” He breathed heavily, and you finally smiled. Your eyes glow a bright white hue.
“Anything?” You walked over towards him, your heels clicking across the floor. “How about your soul?”
“Yes! Deal — it’s a deal.”
You didn’t present the sinner with a contract or even offered him your hand. Instead you gestured for the guards that stood near the door.
“Lock him up, while I decide if this is a deal worth my time.”
They grasped the man, and the sinner confused shouted. “What’s going on?! What do you mean to decide?”
As he was pulled away more shouts flew from him. “We have a deal! We have a deal!”
Not yet, the deal is yet to be made. But you didn’t tell him that.
Instead you left the dining table — your appetite gone now — and instead went to your room.
You watched over the mortal realm from there. Only high ranking demons had such power, overlords, sins, and royalty. It was even more limited the demons that could make contact with Earth.
The crystal that wrapped around your mirror enchanted it. Showing you the man you wanted to see.
Alastor.
You watched over him, looking through his life. The man had earned himself a ticket to hell, that was no doubt. Killing his father in vengeance.
The sinner who had begged you to kill his son failed to mention his part in his wife’s death.
Alastor’s father had killed his mother, and Alastor had killed him in return.
He was never caught, in fact he started to grow more and more impressive since his fathers death. His show gained popularity, he was doing well for himself despite the challenges thrown his way.
And late at night, he would slip away from crowds and hunt down his victims in the New Orleans bayou. Taking them back to his cabin and feeding his darkest thoughts. Literally.
Rosie would adore him. You already knew the two would pair nicely.
For days you continued to watch Alastor’s life, and every night he’d find himself in the same club. While unimportant to most, this was an opportunity for you. The same bar he played the piano at, danced, and charmed others at, was the same place an angel named Belle would attend. An angel you swore your own vengeance on.
The air in the Louisiana bayou was filled with sounds of its animals. Crickets singing in harmony while fireflies danced. It was a true New Orleans fashion, and none would hear Alastor’s victims this night. No one alive at least.
He used his victim’s blood to form a residual, right before the fire.
You watched and listened to his sickening laugh. His French flowing off his tongue like a sinful delight.
“I call on you, voices of the afterlife, I wish to make a deal with you.” This was your moment. Your window of opportunity.
A light glowed from the radio, blinding Alastor for a moment. However, when he finally looked back, there you were. Dressed regal, with a tainted smile on your face. Your demonish looks didn’t hide from your beauty. You were unique, strange.
“Why have you called me here, human?” You looked at the dingy cabin, finally seeing it in person. This man was raised in New Orleans – you have no doubt Voodoo magic was taught to him. Perhaps that’s why he knew to call upon you.
Like father, like son I guess.
“Do you wish for death? Power? Riches?” You kicked the bones that laid on the floor. “Perhaps a broom?”
Alastor was silent, he couldn’t believe it finally worked. After all this time, countless times he tried. What has changed now? The answer was, you were finally listening to him.
“Let me cut to the chase,” he too kicked bones away from you. A charming smile etched into his face. “I know what awaits a man like me after death.”
He tossed the bones into the flames. The heat soared as they burned.
“I do not wish to be in hell a tortured soul.” He smiled back at you, the look in his eyes wicked. “I want to be one of the highest ranked.”
The strongest sinner in hell. A power you could grant, a title you could relinquish. In the name of revenge.
“I can grant you this desire, however you can’t get something for nothing.” You pushed his hand off from your shoulder. Grimacing at the dead body below you. “There is a woman named Belle, one who often visits the place your friend owns.” You paused “Mimzy was it?”
Alastor stopped for a moment. Just how much did you know about him?
“Well, all you have to do is slip this,” you pulled a vile from your pocket. “Into her drink.” You placed the glass into his palm, your own hands resting on his. “In return I’m prepared to grant your request, and even sweeten the pot.”
“What are you talking about?” What more could he want?
“Your father, he did become a soul in my possession. When you die I’m willing to hand him over to you.”
Alastor's mind drifted back to the night he took an axe to the side of his fathers face. His regret was not letting him suffer enough.
“Do this, and you could have everything you wanted.” Your hands dropped from his own. “But, if you fail me – I’ll own your soul to fill my price.”
A contract with your name on it appeared to the side of the two of you. A golden scroll. The same gold that emitted from your hands. “Do we have a deal?”
Alastor didn’t hesitate. Didn’t even ask about the importance of a soul. His answer was immediate. “It’s a deal.”
He couldn’t help laughing as he shook your hand, his own name being sown into the contract under yours. A green power surged through him, and a shadow of what would be known as the radio demon was a shadow only you could see.
Finally after all this time, you would get what you wanted.
“I’ll see you around.” At those words, the light from before blinded the room, and you were gone. No evidence of your trace.
Just the poison in his hand.
Opposite to Alastor’s cabin, Mimizy’s club was loud with a tune. Drinks clinked together, and laughter was heard all throughout the room. Dancing, and a good mood. That’s what you would always find here.
Alastor was confused. How would he find this ‘Belle’? He didn’t know what she looked like, and there were far too many women for him to be asking them all for their names. Besides what if there were multiple Belle’s?
Slowly stress was getting to him, but he wouldn’t let it confuse him. He’s come this far; he can handle this.
The bar keep slid Alastor his usual whiskey, two ice cubes dancing in the glass. At night New Orleans never felt more alive. Music crying out all around, jazz filling the ear with a pleasing symphony.
Alastor likes his life. He was a radio star, and even better not a single person would look his way for the murders that were found all over the bayou. He had fun, and when he went to hell he wanted a life just like this one.
“You troubled, Alastor?” The bartender, Louis asked. Alastor had known the man for as long as he had known Mimzy, far too long.
“Nothing worth fretting over, my good friend.” Alastor’s signature smile graced his face. No one would doubt him, everyone was so easily manipulated into just believing him.
“Louis!” An angelic voice called, as she took the seat right beside Alastor. The woman had a face he had never once seen before. “Pour me a glass of Gin, will you?”
“Coming right up, Belle.”
Belle.
Like a puzzle fitting into its last slot the woman beside him actually meant something. His future. This had to have been Belle, it was too much of a coincidence for her not to be. This was the woman you wanted dead, and in return he would not only thrive in hell – but would have his fathers tortured soul in his grasp.
“My aren’t you a pretty face?” Alastor's southern charm slipped out naturally. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before, I would have remembered.”
Belle laughed at the man's shameless flirting. Though she had to admit, despite how brass Alastor was acting he still seemed to have class. A rare quality found in men this day and age. “I am here pretty often.”
“Well, where are my manners?” His hand lifted from the bar, reaching for the woman’s. “Alastor, quite a pleasure to meet you.”
His kiss on her hand came welcomed, “Belle, consider me charmed.”
He spent the night dancing with the woman, laughing, and she reminded him a lot of his good friend Mimzy. In fact the three of them didn’t have a frown the entire evening. She was good, the good his mother used to say was still in the world.
The bottle in his pocket never left his mind. He had many opportunities to spike her drink. No one would even know, and no one would look his way. He could do it, and get it over with. Everything he wanted was right there, but shamefully he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t take the woman's heart. He could only imagine his mothers disappointment for even thinking about it.
He went home alone that night, as always, with the poison untouched and unused. Maybe he could lie, you wouldn’t be expecting him not to fall through – would you?
He could do this, he could pull on you. You wouldn’t know.
That’s what he kept telling himself, even as he saw you lounged in his house. His house, not his cabin. He had invited you into his life, and you were coming to collect.
“How’d it go?” Your voice was calm, patient, waiting. He couldn’t fumble over his words, he couldn’t let his nerves best him. He never has.
“I found the girl,” his smooth voice rolled off his tongue. “It wasn’t difficult spiking her drink.”
“And did she drink it?” Your eyes stared at him, knowingly. Like you were provoking him to falter.
“Yes.”
“You are many things, Alastor.” You claimed, slowly standing from the couch you rested on. “A smart, manipulative, lying man.”
Each step you took towards Alastor set off a new type of alarm inside of him. “Do you know what that poison does?” You stop just short in front of him.
“No,” his first honest answer. “I don’t.”
“It takes the soul,” you hand reached out, resting on his chest. “Slowly tearing it apart.” Your eyes darkened as if imagining it. You twisted woman.
No sounds could be heard between the two of you for a moment. Alastor thought of what to say, and you were done listening to his lies.
Your lashes fluttered against your eyes, as if reeling in the rage before the breaking of its dam. When your eyes clash against his brown eyes he sees it. The fury, the anger.
“I wanted a soul.” Alastor’s shadow that rested against the floor was wrapped in chains. “And a soul I will have.”
The hand that rested against his chest burned, a searing heat soaring all throughout his body. His loud cries went unheard to everyone but you. The contract from before once again appeared, and you finally released your hold on his chest – before gripping his chin.
A dark, ravenous haze appeared over your face. This was the Overlord that struck fear throughout the pride ring.
“You failed to pay your price, and there is a debt to be paid, my dear sinnerman.”
Roughly your kiss caused a rage that sickened him.
“Your soul is now mine, my pet.” You seethed.
