「 Hell On Wheels! 」Alastor x Reader (DISCONTINUED)

Chapter XXIII

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***

It was about a month or so ago, before the big interview on 666 News was offered.

Angel Dust was starring in the usual things he was expected to do and booked for. Pornography, modeling, prostitution. All of which became a mixture of normality in his life—rather, death ever since 1947.

  Some may say that creating an alias based off of the very drug that killed you would be crude. But that didn't stop him, because that's the very thing that led to his attempted compensation for his life.

  A family that dabbled in being a well known and highly feared mafia had a son who didn't ever plan on associating himself with instilling fear in others or getting his hands dirtied. That reputation should certainly be enough to scare any sane person off.

  But it didn't for Charlie and her pissy bitch of a girlfriend Vaggie.

  Their first ever encounter consisted of him searching for a place to live in. As if he'd want to live in a house or apartment with a client he had done his services with, because as much as it's amusing, he wanted some time for himself.

  "You insane?" He'd asked the two of them, in utter surprise they offered him a place to stay at. Not exactly live in, but it did the job. And noting as she's the rumored princess of Hell that ran away from all the royalties and expected duties (that may be a little exaggerated on his part), it came off a huge shock.

  "We're in Hell." She had replied with a cheeky smile. That did it for him.

  When he learned of the conditions of it, he absolutely despised it. Threatened to leave the place and search elsewhere. But it was rent free, offered from the goodness of Charlie's heart, and every little good thing.

  He didn't decline, so he stayed. But who ever predicted it would lead to Charlie leading him into her room to have a serious discussiom about went on in the present?

  Angel Dust was well aware he should be grateful for being given a place to stay. And he was, not like he'd admit that out loud. That would damage his ego and reputation as a son from a mafia-oriented family and local pornstar, even if it was only him and Charlie.

  Charlie lived in this hotel, as did Vaggie. It didn't take a genius to figure out she most likely wasn't welcomed back to her original home, maybe after proposing what she intended to do. But she never once showed a problem with it.

  Angel looked up at the walls, noticing the portraits hung up. Multiple being random paintings with deeper meanings most likely, some being paintings of her and vaggie, but one in particular caught his attention.

  Charlie smiling tentatively in front of two adults, one female one male. Her parents. It was a replicate of the one in the lobby, but seeing the detail in this one, it was most likely the original.

  Just what has she had to deal with? The question wandered into his thoughts before he had the chance to filter it into something more.. well, Angel?

  "I was younger back then," she says suddenly, momentarily surprising him. "and mom was frustrated in fixing up my hair."

  Her eyes gloss over as she looks up at the portrait, sheen with emotions as she reminisces. Angel Dust watched quietly. "She could never properly handle my hair, never knowing what style it should be in," she whispered, "but dad never really cared about it."

  "A family picture to portray the flawed imperfection of us—" she says as she approached the portrait. Laying her hand down over the portrait Charlie's chest, where her heart was, she smiled.

  Not one of her trademark, happy ones that she exchanged with Vaggie and citizens of Hell. Not one of the exasperated but trying smiles she'd given him. Not even the one she gave as an attempt to match Alastor's serial killer one.

  But a broken one, a smile that showed she held her own flaws and knew them to a fault. One that reflected the girl who had been degraded her life and ridiculed by the public. Angel's heart ached for the girl who couldn't voice her thoughts without having to face the complaints, worries, doubts, and snide remarks of others. And it hurt even more knowing he was one of them.

  Her hand fell limp and a sniffle escaped her. Was she crying?

  "...(Y/N)." His breath hitched. It was a simple name, a mixture of letters to make it sound as if it were an alias. But it elicited a reaction from him, and that's all Charlie had been looking for, he realizes that now.

  She faced him. The glossy look in her eyes were present, but this time the shine was supposed to signify her steel, iron clad eyes. Stern, prying, and demanding. "I didn't come here to ask the typical questions. But rather, to talk to you about (Y/N)."

  Here it comes. She's going to blame him, insult him, and shower her negative attention upon him. He inhaled and readied himself to fire back.

  "I'm sorry."

  There it is. He opened his mouth to sneer back— wait what?

  Angel Dust nearly did a double take at her words. She didn't start with an insult or a degrading statement, but rather an apology. An apology for crying out loud.

  "I'm sorry," she says, "for everything that has happened today." Her hands started fidgeting with each other. Vaggie scolded her for that before, he remembered. "It probably triggered your actions, and you acted on it."

  Oh. Angel had to stop himself from releasing a laugh. She thought he only did it because the event of meeting a new soul and Alastor was stressing him and his "rehabilitation" out.

  "But that's besides the point." Charlie's tone turned blank, a telltale sign of looming thoughts.

  "Alastor and I—" He couldn't help but think how Vaggie would have been beyond enraged if she heard that—"talked regarding (Y/N)'s condition." Charlie finished, looking directly into his eyes much to his discomfort.

  "And I think her getting into a coma is no coincidence." Angel raised an eyebrow at her words. It was somewhat dismissive; the word "coincidence." That's saying she just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time in a somewhat condescending way.

  "Kinda rude to say that, don'tcha think?" He tilted his head, speaking up. "She obviously did get into a coma but callin' it a coincidence is outta your element? Did one too many.. peaks fry your brain?"

  Red coated her cheeks much to his satisfaction. "No no! I don't- It doesn't mean—" Her hands were waving around frantically as she tried her best to clarify the situation she dragged herself into.

  Good, good. Be distracted. Fall off the topic. He cocked his head with a taunting smirk. "Take your time, babe."

  It didn't work. She huffed, the red disappearing from her face. "That's not the point, uh, please don't try to get me to stray away from the topic at hand," she stammered slightly in her words.

  The joke's on you, I'll take any chance I can get.

  "But since you seem to be impatient I'll be blunt." Shit that's the exact opposite of what he wanted.

  "Hey, Charlie, wait-" Angel raised his hand to try and halt her word flow. Maybe use the excuse someone was calling him this time, or that he needs to take a piss? Or say Molly needs him because of something, or today is the death anniversary of a relative that doesn't even exi-

  "This isn't the first time (Y/N) has been to Hell."