Milk & Honey

by Roman330

Summary:

When Angel Dust breaks his chains, the consequences are far more dire then he could have ever imagined.

As war simmers between the overlords, Angel Dust grows his new syndicate, Valentino enlists the hellborn for revenge, Husk tries to keep the man he loves from becoming something unrecognizable, and Alastor tries to remember a strange evening he once shared with his new business partner.

(The primary relationships are Alastor/Angel Dust, Vox/Valentino and Husk/Angel Dust)

Notes:

This is the first Hellaverse thing I've written (following my 1 fic per fandom trend, I suppose). I wanted to dive into a darker angle for Angel Dust, especially his background in the mafia, and what parts of that might be lingering under the facade he's built up in hell. Things are likely to get pretty dark, but there will be a loving-if somewhat toxic Alastor shaped light at the end of the tunnel for him. (or, dark looming shadow at the end of the tunnel)

Chapter 1: Crudité

Angel remembers a teacher telling him once that a boat out at sea could bob over a tsunami without even noticing something had happened. It’s only when the wave drew close to shore that it would raise to it’s full height, and wash away everything in it’s path. It seemed, the longer he stayed in hell, the more he felt like a boat on the ocean. Unseen threats welling up beneath him, as he floats in a haze of drugs and sex, oblivious to what might be carrying him along, hidden just below the surface.

Signing the pact with Val didn’t feel like the worst mistake of his life or death when he did it. It felt like taking on any other job. He signed plenty of contracts when he was alive, and with all the drugs and sweet words he didn’t realize how different contracts were down here. Angel learned that pretty quick. He’s felt the wave crash over him every night since he signed the damn thing.

He couldn’t see the hotel either. Well, of course he saw it, he’d been living there for nearly a year. But it wasn’t until he was knee deep in bleeding angels that he realized how batshit insane the whole situation had become. He was living in a hotel shared by the Princess of Hell and the Radio Demon. He had the opportunity to redeem himself- if that sort of thing was even possible- and he got the chance to breathe and feel his head clear, away from the endless sex and smoke and pills of V tower. He got the chance to get to know Husker, to see another way forward. And see how monumentally the choice to get a free place to crash away from Valentino had changed his life-

But it hadn’t changed things entirely. Had it. Sure, he had some more friends, and he got to sleep away from the tower when he wasn’t working. But that’s only when he wasn’t working, and the hours Valentino put him through weren’t exactly humane. Even when there isn’t anything to film, he still calls Angel in to the tower, makes him sit around and listen to the endless stupid fucking arguments he has with Vox and Velvette and whoever else is in the tower that day. It’s deep into one of those nights now. Angel is sprawled out on one of Valentino’s couches, wearing a pink robe, staring at the ceiling as two of the most powerful overlords in hell whine at each other.
“It makes us look WEAK. Val. That’s why it’s a problem.” Vox says, a clawed hand running absentmindedly through the soft fur of Valentino’s jacket.

“I don’t know. I think there’s something good to be said for softening our image a little. Don’t you like that’s what Alastor’s playing at with his little hotel project? I mean- Angel you don’t think he gives a shit about that ratty place, do you?” Valentino cocks his head, grinning.

“...I dunno.” Angel says, trying his best to look anywhere other than at Valentino.

“You’re working. Angel. Or did you forget? Answer. The Question.”

“I- He-” He pauses to think for a moment, flinching when Valentino clicks his tongue impatiently. “I think he's there for Charlie. He wants a deal with her or somethin’.”

“We already knew that, Val.” Vox says. “Why you think your whore has anything useful to add is beyond me.”

“Has he struck a deal yet?” Valentino asks, the smile not leaving his lips.

“No. Course not.”

“Are you suuure, Angel, baby? If we find out you lied to us, it’s not going to be pretty, you know.”

“...I just live there. Val. I don’t keep track of all the stupid bullshit that goes on. You’re probably right that he’s just doin’ it to get people t’ trust him again. Seein’ as he was gone for so long an’ all.”

Valentino preens at the flattery, teeth glinting in the soft light as he turns to face Vox. “After killing those angels he’s a real hero to the sinners you know. I think we might have a popularity problem if we don’t do something soon.”

“We’ll increase our broadcast schedule. Get Velvette to- introduce a new fashion or something. Distract the souls. Like we always do. You’re making this more complicated than it has to be.”

“Or, you’re looking for any excuse to fight over turf with him. But I have a different idea, cariño~” Valentino flicks the TV on, a Vox-Net is drily covering the aftermath of a recent court trial, where an imp went free after conspiring with a goetic demon to access the mortal realm.

“That’s hellborn shit. Val. It doesn’t have anything to do with Alastor.”

“Exactly. Alastor stopped the purges. We won’t pull sinners away from him for a long time after that. So I thought, why try to get more sinners in our contracts at all? Why not find a new source of fresh meat.”

Vox pauses, thinking things over, then his screen flickers, and begins to glow brighter. “That’s brilliant. Val.”

“I do have my moments.”

“We’ll go- make a donation to these imps, make it really public. Show everyone we’re the overlords who care about hellborn. Not Alastor.”

“And then when the war comes-”

“We’ll have them on our side.” Valentino and Vox kiss violently, tongues tangling together as Valentino presses the smaller overlord into the couch. Angel sighs, and stands, taking that as his cue to leave.

 

Angel trudges back to the hotel, through the grimy streets of Pentagram City, doing his best to ignore the catcalls and odd remarks from fans. Finally, he arrives back at the hotel, slumping at the bar, as usual.

“You look pretty beat.” Husk says, already beginning to mix a drink. “Boss working you hard again?”

“Worse than that. He just made me talk to him and his boyfriend for like- six hours.”

“That’s worse than the usual?”

“Listen. I hate my boss, but my job is my job. I chose to go into that line a’ work. I’d rather let some guy fuck me and get it over with than have to sit around listening to that stupid asshole drone on for hours.”

Husk hands him the drink. “Well, hope this helps.”

“Course it will.” Angel Dust drains the glass, then stands up. “I gotta go shower. I bet I smell like a perfume factory exploded in my face.”

Husker nods slightly. “Well, if you want to talk more, you know where my room is.”

“Sure do!” Angel smiles, and walks down the hall to the showers. It’s refreshing. What he has with Husk. With everyone here, really. When he was still living at V tower, there was always something. Whether the overlords were fighting, or fucking, or Valentino was horny and decided he wanted a quick fuck, he could never relax. Never simply be. Never even take a shower without having to worry about someone smashing their way in and screaming at him.

But here, he can take his time, and he does, basking in the hot water until the pipes groan and it begins to cool, before blowdrying the pink fur that covers most of his body, leaving it puffed up as he pulls on his bathrobe and ambles over towards Husker's room, already imagining the sensation of soft black fur against his skin.

As he passes the living room, Angel hears the sound of soft humming, distorted by sharp pangs of static. Alastor is out of his room again, eating some mysterious type of meat off a very finely enameled plate. Angel pays no mind. Outside of his offer to fuck him for the commercial, Angel doesn’t think he's said a single word to the Radio Demon since he moved in. Honestly, with how much Vox talks about him, Angel probably learns more about Alastor at work then he does here.

As he's walking past, however, he hears a smooth, crackling voice call out his name. Not his current name- the one everyone in hell calls him- but his name. The one that he so carelessly used to sign away eternity to Valentino. “What the fuck did you just call me?” Angel turns, every eye narrowing.

“It's your name, isn’t it? Or it was, before you adopted that rather crass nom de plume.”

“Angel Dust isn't my nam de plam, whatever the fuck that means. It's my name. Call me Angel if it's too long for ya.”

“I assure you, Anthony. It is not the verbosity of your adopted title that makes me hesitate. It is simply rather distasteful.”

“I told you. It's just Angel now. The only one who calls me Anthony anymore is my shithead brother and Vox when he's getting jealous over me.”

“Fine. Angel Dust.” His voice drips with venom. “I wanted to speak. Do you have a moment?"

“Uh- I was kind of on my way-”

“Husk can wait. He's not going anywhere. He's bound to this place, or did you forget?”

“How'd you know about me and Husker?”

“I make it my business to know everything that goes on within these walls. Especially when it involves my employees. And all the more when it involves the cat. He's a rather troublesome specimen.”

“Fine.” Angel sits, crossing his legs. Usually he'd try to drape himself over the chair, trying his best to let the robe fall off him, while making it look like an accident. But he's gathered that those sort of things don't work on Alastor. Or basically anyone in the hotel, so far as he can tell. The only one he knows is into men would be Husker, and Husk only likes Angel when he drops the act.

“Excellent! As the longest staying guest at my hotel. I think it important that we get to know each other, don't you think?”

“Listen, Alastor. I uh- if this is just a customer service thing, can it wait for tomorrow? I had a long fucking night.”

“Oh, of course, of course. Don't let me interrupt your beauty sleep, I know what it's like to have to face the public. It can be absolutely exhausting.”

Angel stands yawning. “Whatever you say, Alastor.”

“It's only- I had a little tidbit I thought you might want to know. Anthony.”

The spider stops, turning around, his third set of arms beginning to extend. “I told you to stop calling me that.”

“Well. I thought some formality might be in order. A contract is only binding if it's done correctly after all. And there are so many holes in some of them…”

“I'm not doing no fucking deal with you. My soul's spoken for, remember?”

“I'm glad you brought that up, Anthony. Because, you see, I've been watching you for quite a while, and I think I know how to weasel you out of that distasteful contract of yours.”

“Bullshit.”

“You offend me, sir. I would not lie regarding such important matters. I promise you, I'm deadly serious.”

“...Fine. let's say you aren't fucking with me. How do you propose I break an eternally-binding contract held by one of the most powerful assholes in all of hell?”
“The same way a farmer disposes of a troublesome rooster, Anthony. You eat it.”

Chapter 2: Aperatif

Summary:

Angel Dust contemplates Alastor's offer, Valentino makes a new friend

Notes:

Guess who couldn't sleep last night??? I doubt this schedule will be consistent, but I got this guy done way faster than expected.

Usually, the nights Angel spent curled up next to Husker were a refuge from everything outside the room. Sure, there were some thoughts that still poked at the edge of his mind, he still isn’t sure if the cat wants to fuck him, or if he’s just the type of guy to have deep conversations with his friends before they cuddle and fall asleep together, but it’s nothing like spending the evening with anyone else he knows. Husker understands him on a level Angel isn’t sure anyone else has, in either of his lives. Back on earth, everyone saw him as his father’s son. A hard-drinking thug who earned most of his money breaking kneecaps and slinging the same dope that would send him into hell. Here, everyone thinks of him as a sex toy, a mindless bimbo who only existed as something to leer at. To fuck. To own. 

Husker doesn’t see either. At least not that Angel can tell. All he’s interested in is what Angel is feeling, or how his day at work was, or shitting on their respective overlords. It’s a lot like talking with Cherri, except Husker never wants to snort eight lines of coke then let the same dude cum in both their throats. So it’s a nice change of pace, to slow down and pretend he’s normal, that he can still have a normal relationship, that the decades he’s spent wrapped around Valentino’s claws hasn’t broken him completely. 

Tonight, though, Angel lays awake, staring at the ceiling long after the gambling demon has fallen asleep, his earlier conversation with Alastor blaring inside his head, like one of the demon’s shitty little transistor units was lodged inside his skull. Alastor had suggested that there was a way out of his contract with Valentino. The thought of that- of freedom from Valentino, of a life where he could choose who he wants to be- is enough to make his heart race. He feels something boil in his stomach, a long absent hope for a life that doesn’t make him want to die. But what Alastor suggested was nothing short of fucking lunacy. 

“Eat it?” Angel had questioned, at which Alastor nodded. 

“I possess the rare ability to consume souls entire. Indeed, it’s how I made my name in the overlord business! Usually I trap the souls in my radios, of course, but really I can do whatever I want with them. I can summon them at will, use them in my broadcast (canned laughter rings out from the dark corners of the room), even let their owners keep control of their bodies, if I want.”

“Eating souls is one thing, but you can’t expect me to believe you can eat up a contract Alastor.” 

“I can’t! Of course not. But I can offer you a deal. You are bound to the contract, because your soul is Valentino’s. But if I were to consume your soul, then there would be nothing for the contract to bind. It would be void. Utterly useless.” 

“And you’d have eaten my soul. So I’d die? Or go to double hell? Or you’d own me? These don’t exactly seem like great options.” 

“I haven’t finished yet. Anthony. Please let me speak. It’s very rude to interrupt a man when he’s on the air.” Angel dust rolled his eyes, but gestured for Alastor to continue. “Were I to just consume your soul, it would not be advantageous to you, I’d agree. But this deal would require you to retain your faculties, including control of your body. You’d hardly notice it was gone, and I promise I’d keep it very safe for you. Very safe indeed.” 

“What’s my side of the deal then?” Angel dust asked

“Once you are freed from the clutches of that villainous moth, you are to offer me similar assistance. I have my own contract to bear, the details of which I cannot disclose.” 

“I can’t eat souls, buddy. If I could I’d have sucked Val’s out of his dick and drank it for dessert already.” 

“You can’t eat souls, no. You aren’t an overlord, and you haven’t been taught. But once you’re free, why, there’s nothing stopping you from becoming an overlord! You have all the qualifications, you have millions of sinners who already practically worship you, and you’ll have me in your corner. Because once you’ve gathered the strength, I’ll teach you my trick, and you’ll chew the bars off my cage.”

“...If that’s really true, why not get another overlord to do it for you?” Angel says, frowning slightly. 

“Because they would have no reason to help me. They’d swallow my soul, if they could. But if this plan works, we’ll both have the other’s soul! It’s a perfectly fair exchange. And you’ll have a friend for eternity. Your fate, bound to mine, like a pair of infernal siamese twins…” 

Angel felt insane even contemplating the deal, but the more he thought about it, the more appealing it sounded. Being freed from his contract, having one of hell’s great overlords working by his side, as an equal. Becoming strong enough that nobody can ever fuck with him again. 

And even if it was a trap- what could Alastor do that hasn’t already been done to him? He’d prefer being trapped in that fucker’s radio to another night of Val fucking him, Vox getting jealous, Angel trying to leave before he gets pulled into the fight-

He would be insane to say yes. Of course. But he’d be just as insane to pass up this sort of opportunity. And if Charlie trusted Alastor enough to make a deal, then maybe Angel can trust him as well.

 

The Next Morning, Downtown Pentagram City

 

Stolas arrived into the office rather late that morning. Usually he was nothing short of punctual, but the night had been a difficult one, filled with dreams and memories of the life h’d lost. Of the daughter he’d lost forever. He got to sleep late, and when the alarm went off, he silenced it with malice. It wasn’t like anything happened at the office without him there, these days. Apparently nobody else had ever kept the documents or schedules in any kind of order, a task at which Stolas had quite a bit of experience, from his years keeping his vast libraries in order, and engaging in contracts with mortals and hellspawn alike. 

He’s surprised, then, to find the office in a rather orderly state when he enters, with a few rather tough-looking clients waiting on the couch, and the muffled sounds of a meeting coming through Blitz’s office door. Had they managed to get this many meetings organized without him? If so, it would be nothing short of miraculous, and he’d have to lavish his lover with praise for the achievement. 

As Stolas settles behind the desk, he notices the lights below the desk buzzing. He looks down to see three of them blaring at once.

DERANGED CLIENT 

HORNY CLIENT 

STOLAS 

 

…If that button wasn’t new, and meant to call his attention to a matter, then he’ll really need to speak with Blitz as to why he warranted his own warning button. Surely he hadn’t come by the office that often. 

Stolas walks over to the office with a sigh, preparing to peel a pathetic, sleezy sinner off of Blitz’s floor,  and opens the door, ducking into the office, before freezing with a squawk of surprise. There was an overlord in his office. 

“Fucking finally!” Blitz says with a huff. “I’ve been waiting for you to answer the buzzer for like thirty fucking minutes.” 

“I’m sorry, Blitz. What seems to be the… issue?” He looks over Valentino, both sets of eyes narrowing with agitation. “...Valentino.”

“Stolas! I was wondering when you'd come by. I've just been talking to your adorable little toy here~ he's quite entertaining.”

“...What have you been talking about?” Stolas does his best to keep his tone measured, his feelings controlled. He feels nothing but disgust for the pornographer, and were he still a Goetic Demon with full status he would clearly outrank him. But… his status is gone. And that places him- somewhere below these two upstarts, unfortunate as that prospect is to consider. 

“Me and my associates are willing to offer you a significant sum of money in exchange for a little publicity work on our behalf. We were all so moved by the trial that we wanted to do something to show our appreciation~”

“So what? You just give us money and we don't kill anyone?” Blitz smiles crookedly. “Fuck it- if you want to scam yourself be my guest.” He extends a hand, which Stolas bats away before Valentino can take. 

“Please, do not make a deal without proper consideration. I know this overlord, and generosity is not in his nature. He is a cruel and perverted creature of immense selfishness.”

“You think I don't know who Valentino is? I've been jackin’ it to his shit since before you even knew what sex was.” Blitz says

“Always glad to meet a fan-” Valentino grins.

“...Regardless, I think it prudent for us to review the contract carefully. We need not become involved with the overlords and their petty squabbling.” 

“Aww- the printsessa still thinks he's better than this? You live in Pentagram City now, darling. You're going to have to learn to wade through the shit with the rest of us.” He turns back towards Blitz. “Four million dollars, and we remodel your office. In exchange you do some interviews para mi amor, and you agree to be the spokesmodel for my new line of handguns.” He flashes an elaborate-looking revolver. 

“...I don't know. I think we need some time to talk this shit over…” Blitz looks up at Stolas. 

“I can get you into really, really good parties. With lots of pornstars.” 

“Deal!” Blitz takes Valentino's hand, drawing a small hoot from stolas as the room crackles with energy, filling with sickly-sweet smoke. As it clears, Blitz coughs. “...Anything else I should know about?”

“Just the standard contract items. No signing with another overlord, contract only ends by mutual agreement, and a little favor clause at the end.”

“Favor clause?” Stolas hisses. “I can assure you that is not a legally recognized term!”

“Don't worry so much. It just means that if I need Alastor, Vox, or Velvette dead you'll handle it for me. No big deal.”

“Hey shithead- we kill humans, not demons. That's the whole fucking reason Satan was being such a dick to begin with!” Blitz hisses. 

“Well. You kill them now. You signed on it.” Valentino chuckles. “I'll have some girls come by to fix your place up. You'll want some new branding as well, now that we're partners.” Valentino stands. “I'll leave you to your work. We'll be in touch.” The moth-demon blows a kiss before slithering out. Stolas slumps into a chair, letting out a pathetic squawk of defeat.

“Parties? Really Blitz? That's all it took for you to SIGN YOUR COMPANY AWAY to a psychopathic sex-maniac?”

“First of all, Stolas, it's not selling the company, it's called ‘venture capital’ and second, a psychopathic sex-maniac already runs this bitch.” He smiles proudly, leaning back in his chair, throwing his heels up on his desk “And making four million dollars to do some shitty interview and use some gay-looking revolvers is the easiest money I've ever made.” 

“...Unless he asks you to kill Alastor.” Stolas says, slowly. “Which is a very likely possibility.”

“If he does we'll fuck that old timey twink so hard he'll think smallpox is back.”

“I certainly hope so, Blitz.” Stolas groans. “I truly hope you know what you have gotten us into.”

Notes:

Hope you enjoyed! As usual please comment/leave kudos if you enjoyed, and if you want to chat you can find me on tumblr at https://www.tumblr.com/blog/meth-in-venice

Chapter 3: Entree

Summary:

Husk and Angel have a heart to heart, Alastor and Angel have a mouth to heart

Notes:

I had a lot of fun writing the soul devouring scene. We're finally getting into the juicy plot parts!

Another long day of shoots passes in a blur. By the time Valentino lets him slink back into his dressing room, Angel’s body is tortured and bruised, fluffy hair matted with blood, saliva, and other choice fluids. His head is swimming from the sickening pink smoke Val spent the whole night blowing into his face, and his throat burns from the burning hot cum the last imp poured down his throat. He slumps down in front of the mirror and starts wiping his makeup off, smoothing out his hair as much as he can, while trying his best not to look at his own reflection. He doesn’t want to see how he looks. Doesn’t want to see the face that half of hell just watch get fucked by a hellhound. He should spend more time getting himself presentable before he leaves, but all he can think about is getting back home. Back to the hotel. Far away from this fucking tower. Far away from fucking Val.

He drags himself back to the hotel, past the bar, and into his room. He can barely even squirm out of his dirty clothes before he collapses into his bed, pulling Fat Nuggets close and squeezing his eyes shut. He tries to stop the tears. Tries to keep himself together. But he can’t do it. Not tonight. Not after what they did to him. He still sees the faces leering down at him. Still sees the unblinking cameras looking at him, capturing every moment of humiliation, every drop of shame. It makes him want to throw up. It makes him want to smash his head into a glass window. It makes him want to get so high he can’t feel his fingers or remember his name.

As he’s pondering which of those options will get him to pass out the fastest, he is torn out of his thoughts by a knock at the door. His eyes narrow, and his grip on the sheets tightens. “Charlie. If that’s you I already know I missed shit today. And I am not in the fuckin’ mood to talk about it.” 

“It isn’t Charlie.” A deep voice rumbles. It’s Husk. Thank Satan. 

“Oh. You can come in.” Angel sits up in bed, lips curling into a smile as Husk slips  into his room, closing the door silently behind him. 

“I figured you must've had a rough day, if you couldn't even stop at the bar for a drink. So I got you something to go.” Husk says with a smile, handing over a flask, which Angel eagerly drains, sighing softly as he slides down the headboard, laying flat. 

“Yeah. Today fuckin’ sucked ass.” Angel glowers, draping an arm over his two largest eyes. “I hate him so fuckin’ much sometimes that it scares me. Ya know? I think- I think I'd do anything to make that fucking moth feel a fuckin’ fraction a’ the shit he did to me.”

Husk nods, laying down on the bed next to Angel. “Hate's a powerful thing. Angel. You gotta be careful, or it's all you'll be left with.”

“Yeah? You sayin’ you don’t hate Alastor?” Angel asks, turning onto his side to look over at Husk.

“Nah. I don’t hate Alastor. I don't like him. I think he's a crazy freak who only ever thinks about himself. But that doesn't exactly make him stand out down here. He just happens to be top of the pile when it comes to crazy freaks.” Husk chuckles. “I think, if there's anyone I hate for getting me where I am, it's myself. I was the one who made those deals. The one who gambled away the fortune I earned. I lost my own money, Al didn't make me do that. He was just the first shark in the water when my ship went down.” 

“He's not the worst overlord I've met. I guess.” Angel says. His mind is pouring over the memory of his short conversation with the Radio Demon yet again, pondering his offer, wondering if he can be trusted, wondering if that even matters with how fucked Angel's life is. 

“Well, you haven't seen him at his worst. But I guess I'd have to agree with you that there are worse people down here than him.”

“Husk. I- would you-” Angel starts and stops, trying to make the right words form in his mouth. How can he tell Husk about Alastor's offer, when he doesn't even understand it himself? How can he ask Husk to forgive him for joining with Alastor, when Angel isn't sure whether it's going to hurt Husk or not?

“What is it, Angel?” Husk asks, a paw coming to rest on the spider's cheek. 

“I. I think I might be about to make the biggest mistake of my life. But- I have to try. Have to try to escape him. You understand right? You'd do anything to get out too, right?” He hates the way his voice wavers and cracks, how weak it sounds, how desperate it makes him seem. But he doesn't know how else to sound. He can't hold up the facade anymore. Not around Husk. And he can't pretend things are normal either.

“Angel. Whatever you're planning- I hope. I hope you find what you're looking for. And whatever happens. I'll be here for you. Even if you can be damned annoying sometimes” Husk smiles across at him, and pulls closer. “If you say you need to do this- whatever it is. Then you should do it. You're smarter than you pretend to be. Even if you try your best to hide it.”

“Yeah. Guess I am.” Angel settles back down. His heartbeat slows as he begins to make peace with the thought of shaking Alastor's hand. It would free him of Valentino, one way or another. He'd never return to V tower. One way or another.

“I love you. Husk.” He says quietly.

“I love you too.” Husk replies. As the world slowly goes dark around him, until all Angel can hear is the cat's breathing, and all he can feel is his soft fur against his cheek.

 

“We need to talk. Alastor.” Angel Dust declares, swinging the deer’s bedroom door o 

Alastor is sitting in one of the overstuffed, flipping absentmindedly through a book. He looks up, his usual smile greeting Angel Dust. “Of course, of course. I’m sure you have many questions about the little scheme which I proposed.”

“Yeah. Why me?” Angel Dust sits down in. The other leather chair, frowning across at Alastor. The Radio demon looks back, smiling as brightly as ever. 

“I think I already explained that to you, Anthony. We're both in a position to help one another break free.”

“That's the other thing. Who the fuck managed to get you of all people into a contract?” 

“That's- not something I can tell you. The contract swears me to secrecy. But I can assure you that it's not anyone pleasant.”

Angel laughs, a sharp unpleasant sound. “Yeah. There ain't anyone in this fuckin' place who is. ‘Cept some a the people around here.”

“I know you've taken a shine to our bartender, or the drinks he serves at the very least.”

“...So. You eat my soul. What stops me from dyin'?”

“My restraint. I wish I could offer you more reassurance, but unfortunate as it is to say- you'll just have to trust me.” Alastor's teeth glint in the low candlelight, and for what must be the hundredth time in the last two days, Angel considers the offer once again. Considers his options. Either he turns Alastor down, and Val fucks with him forever, or he accepts it and spits right in the moths stupid fucking face.

“Fine. I'll do it. What do I have to lose?”

Alastor's grin widens, Angel can see his body tense with excitement and he winces at the sight as he extends his hand. The last time he signed a contract in hell, he had no idea of the shit he was getting himself into. He’d barely given it any thought at all. This time, he knows exactly how badly he’s fucking himself over, and it makes the moment stretch on and on. He feels the soft brush of Alastor’s palm against his, and then he sees deep green light burst from Alastor, as his grin widens beyond the limits of his lips, stretching gruesomely across his face, as bright runes carve their way into Angel’s arms, then down his legs, across the floor, and over the furniture of Alastor’s room. Then, in a moment, it’s all over. 

“I don’t feel any different.” Angel says, looking down at himself. “Am I s’posed to?”

“No no- not yet! That was simply our agreement being signed into force. Your soul remains safely nestled inside that fluffy chest of yours.” 

“...So. Ya gonna eat it? Or does that come later?” 

“I plan on consuming it at your convenience. You may be… indisposed for a few days after. If you don’t mind I can start it now…” Alastor’s eyes rake over Angel. The spider feels no lust behind them, only hunger. Endless, indescribable hunger. It makes him shiver in fear, and at the same time, spreads a slight warmth in his chest. He has Alastor on his side now. Valentino can’t fucking touch him. Nobody can.

“Let’s get this shit over with. Not like I’m gonna have to go to fuckin’ work if your plan works anyways- which it better.” Angel says with a small glare. Alastor simply chuckles. 

“Anthony, is now really the time to doubt me? I promise you that I’m completely certain that this little plan of ours will go off without a hitch! I wouldn’t have staked my own freedom on it if I wasn’t.” 

“Right. So how does this work?” 

“Well. As a matter of courtesy I suggest you lay somewhere comfortable. Then I’ll devour your immortal soul.” As he says the last few words Alastor’s head cocks too far to the side, eyes glowing a hideous bright red. 

Angel breathes slowly. It’s too late to turn back. He already made his choice. He needs to trust Alastor, as stupid a decision as that may be. He stands, and walks slowly into the swampy other half of Alastor’s room, and lays down in what seems to be a bed of moss and leaves. Strange, but Angel supposes Alastor may be more deer than he first thought. Alastor follows, a few steps behind. He doesn’t say a word, but he doesn’t need to, for Angel to feel him, feel the hungry gaze he knows is piercing into the back of his neck. It draws another shiver down his spine when he rolls over, looking up at Alastor, as the overlord looms above.

“Okay. Do your worst, daddy.” Angel says with a grin, narrowing his eyes. Alastor sighs, and kneels down. Then, deep black tendrils emerge from behind him, Alastor’s horns growing long as the lights in the room dim, then disappear entirely. Angel keeps his breaths as even as he can, as a dreadful cold touches him. It’s light at first, a small brush against his waist. Then it washes over him in earnest, crawling up his legs, over his waist, and up to his neck. Then he’s covered in the shadows, covered in Alastor and it’s all he can do to hold back a scream. When he inhales , he breathes in the radio demon. When he exhales, nothing comes out, the thick, but intangible shadows blocking his throat as they crawl down, deeper and deeper into his body. 

He should be choking. Should be terrified. But he isn’t.The feeling is indescribable, but it isn’t bad exactly. He’s had far worse things inside him, even if he’s never felt anything violate him as thoroughly as the shadows that pour into his mouth. He can feel them moving below his skin, rooting around in his stomach, his intestines, crawling out of him, then pushing themselves back in. He feels it move through his organs, passing through walls that should be solid, until the shadows are crawling through his fucking veins. Then he screams, as he feels his warm blood go cold, feels the very essence of his life disappear around him, as everything he is and has and will be is replaced with nothing except Alastor, Alastor, Alastor. A name he couldn’t have given half a shit about a month ago, that’s the only thing his mind can conjure. 

The shadows shove themselves further up his veins with every beat of Angel’s heart, surging further and further down his limbs, filling out his extremities. Angel whimpers, managing to get out a sputtering sob at the feeling, only for it to be cut off with a muffled scream as his heart beats again. This time the cold isn’t moving towards the edges of his limbs. He can feel the shadows moving towards his heart. Closer and closer with every beat. Crawling and scraping their way through his body, like an army of frigid, relentless graveworms, devouring him alive. Angel screams, writhing. No matter what he signed, no matter what he agreed to, no matter what he had decided. He can’t hold still. He can’t lay here any let- whatever this is-  happen to him without a fight. Every fibre of his being tells him to fight, and then recoils at the thought of what Alastor might do to him if he keeps pushing back. 

But Alastor doesn’t do anything. His smile only softens slightly, as he brushes the tears off Angel’s cheek. “I know it’s agonizing. If it’s any consolation, I’m not taking any time to savor the meal.”

Angel can’t say anything back, so instead he settles for another small whimper. The cold needles grow closer and closer and closer to his heart. And then they are piecing it. And then they are inside. And then something in him breaks forever. 

The shadows retract rather suddenly, and Angel rolls over far enough to retch up a small puddle of black goo. He doesn’t ask Alastor what it is. He doesn’t really want to know any details about what just happened to him. 

“Do you feel different now, friend?” Alastor asks, a laugh hiding behind his eyes. 

“Yeah. I do.” His heart feels light. His body feels new. He feels… powerful. In a way he hasn’t since he died. “I feel fuckin’ great.” 

“Good! I’m glad it wasn’t too traumatizing for you! I’m not used to doing that on someone who’s still moving. I’m glad I was able to stop you from breaking.”

“Thanks. Asshole.” Angel sits up. Rubbing his eyes. “What now?”

“Now? It’s time to make a radio-show.” 

 

—

 

Valentino is sprawled back in his tub, listening to the radio. Vox may hate Alastor with every fiber of his being, but Valentino isn’t above a bit of entertainment, especially when Alastor is the only station in town that isn’t broadcasting the same recycled music from earth. As the daily list of death threats against Alastor’s enemies comes to a close, however, a new voice rings out over their airwaves. A disgustingly, sickeningly familiar voice. 

 

“Good evening, Pentagram City. It’s me, your beloved little sinner Angel Dust cumming all over the airwaves to tell you that I’ve finished off my work with the Vees. That’s right, you won’t be able to see me on any of my old shows. But don’t despair, I won’t leave any of my fans unsatisfied. If you want to see me, come down to my new club, Eden. You can find it right next to the Hazbin Hotel, deep, deep deep inside Alastor’s domain. I’ll be so excited to see all of you next month when we'll be wide, wide open.”

Notes:

Tune in next time to see Angel's new gig, and see how well Valentino is handling the loss of his favorite toy. As always please comment if you enjoyed, and if you want to chat, you can find me on tumblr!

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/meth-in-venice

Chapter 4: Ortolan

Summary:

The grand opening of Eden, Angel Dust's new speakeasy goes about as well as it can. Valentino's crashout begins

Notes:

The further I get in this fic, the more I realize that huskerdust is going to be a larger element then I planned, so I'm elevating it to shared main ship status alongside radio dust (I promise it will make sense eventually).

Charlie's eyes are narrowed as she looks between the two sinners, Vaggie looming behind her shoulder. “Angel. Alastor. I'm not angry. I just- need to understand how this bar got here.”

Charlie looks around the vast interior of Eden. It is a fine bar, done up in a decadent art deco style, the walls and much of the furniture covered a deep, lustful shade of red. The bar isn't open quite yet, but there's an energy about the place. Even for hell, it is distinctly unwholesome.

“Oh, well that's simple. I built it for Anthony.” Alastor says with a grin. “We're business partners now!”

“And Anthony is…”

“Me. Or it used ta be.” Angel Dust says with a sigh.

“Well! I'm… very happy that you've started a business, Anthony-”

“Don't you start. Call me Angel.” 

“I'm glad you started a business Angel Dust but I'm concerned about the impact having a speakeasy next door might have on the guests at the hotel. Would you consider…” She inhales, trying to stay firm, and set boundaries, like she practiced in the mirror. “I want you two to move the bar someplace else. A little further from the hotel.”

Alastor laughs. “No no- absolutely not. You see, location is everything, and this one is just perfect for our little cabaret.” 

“Why? I mean other than the hotel, there isn’t much around-”

“Cause when I stop goin’ to work Val is gonna wanna kill me. And when he shows up, we were sorta hoping you two could lend a hand.” 

“You antagonized an OVERLORD and led him straight to Charlie?” Vaggie hisses as she grips her spear ever tighter. “Why not just go to work and save us the trouble?”

“Cause I broke my contract. And that fucker ain't gettin’ a single hair on my head from now on. I'm sorry for draggin' you two into this, but it's how things had t’ be.”

Charlie's eyes widen, and she reaches out, taking one of the spider's hands. “Angel. Of course we'll keep you safe. Even from Valentino. Especially from Valentino… but why do you need all this to do that?”

“Cause I'm free from Val, but I ain't free from contracts. And the one I'm in now needs me to earn. I always ran bars as a human, so why not do what I know?”

Charlie's voice softens. “Angel- I think it's… really great that you're working as an entrepreneur- but… is this really the best choice-”

“And we have a karaoke machine.” Alastor adds, and Charlie's eyes glimmer with excitement. 

“You do?? That's amazing- what kind of songs are on it- you know if there's wholesome entertainment as well maybe the bar isn't such a bad idea-” As she continues talking, Alastor leads her over to the Karaoke stage. Vaggie glares at Angel.

“You might have distracted Charlie. But I'm keeping an eye on you and Alastor. I don't like this one bit.” 

“You won't be the only one starin’ at me, that's for sure~” Angel Dust lilts. Vaggie groans, and storms off, following Charlie. 

Angel Dust sighs, and slumps back into the chair. Alastor had said he’d be able to talk Charlie into this, and it seemed to be working, at least so far. The last few days have been a blur. Everything he thought he knew about life in hell had fallen apart in a moment, when he bared his throat and let Alastor eat. 

Angel sighs as the sound of Charlie singing begins to echo through the speakeasy and goes to get a drink. Since the booze hasn't arrived in Eden yet, he walks over to the hotel, folding himself onto the stool, and flashing a grin towards Husk. 

“I think Charlie's gonna let me keep the bar open! How about a drink to celebrate?” Angel asks Husk, golden tooth gleaming as he smiles.

“Sure thing.” Husk replies with as much warmth as he can muster, which is admittedly not very much. “How the hell'd you manage it?”

“The bar? Alastor and I signed a contract. He built it for me.” 

Husk freezes, for a moment, before he continues with his work, shaking the drink slowly. “I thought you were already in a contract. With Valentino.”

“I was. Alastor has a way of getting people outa contracts. So he helped me out a bit.” 

“And now. You're going into business with the Radio demon?” Husk strains the bees knees into a chilled glass and slides it over to Angel Dust. He'd been planning on following it up with some stupid pickup line involving honey, but he can’t remember what he wanted to say, now. It all seems silly anyways. 

“Not as a contractee, don't worry Husk. I'm gonna be an overlord.” Angel smirks.

“Angel. Do you know what kind of man Alastor is?” Husk asks, voice lowering as he begins to wipe the bar down with an old white rag.

“Course I do. I'm not stupid. Well. Not that stupid, at least.”

“You must be dumber than I thought if you think you can trust that psychopath. Do you know what he does to guys who piss him off?” Husk’s voice raises slightly, bunching the rag up in his hand.

Angel Dust puts his glass back down, glowering. “Husk. I'll be safe. Promise. Don't worry about it. Just be happy for me?”

“Don't tell me what to worry about. Angel Dust.” Husk hisses. “You've given me a hundred reasons to care about you, and a hundred more to not trust you with your own safety.”

Angel knocks back his drink, staring at the table. “Once I'm an overlord. I'll help you. Promise. I'll. I'll find a way. Husk. You'll see.”

“We will. We certainly will.” Husk hisses, turning to start organizing some bottles, doing his best not to feel Angel's many eyes staring plaintively at the back of his neck. 

“You told me t’ do what I needed to do to get away from Val. Why are ya so pissy about it now?” Angel slams his drink back on the table.

“Because. I didn't expect you to be stupid enough to go into business with Alastor.” Husk says quietly.

“I ain't. Stupid. It was- you'd do the same. If you were me.” 

“Maybe I would. But look at me, Angel.” Husk whips back around, glaring at Angel Dust. “This is what Alastor does to people. He'll take everything from you, and more. You won't be you by the time he's finished with you.” 

Angel Dust chews on his lip. “Maybe not. But maybe that ain't such a bad thing. There are a lotta things I hate about me.” 

Husk curses under his breath. “Angel. You know I didn't mean it like that. I'm just- I know Alastor too well not to be worried about you.”

Angel Stands, eyes still narrowed. “Nah. Husk. I understand just fine.” He leaves the bar before Husk can talk more, and wanders back to his new room on the top floor of the club, flopping into his bed. Four weeks until the grand opening. Four weeks to get everything in order. Four weeks to find out what Valentino is going to do to try to fuck this up for him.

 

Four Weeks Later

 

It's late into the evening when Blitz's phone starts ringing, drawing a muffled groan out of Stolas when he moves to pick it up. 

“Just hang up, love. Please.” Stolas groans, burying his head in the pillows, attempting to block out the sound. 

“Can’t. We need to make money, ‘member?” Blitz does leave the room to take the call, at least. Through the wall, Stolas can hear someone yelling at Stolas, most likely Valentino. What a disgusting, depraved individual Blitz has tied them all to. How horrid that they were caught on the string, at the beck and call of a man they hate just because of his money. 

…Perhaps. That is how Blitz had viewed him. At first, at least. He is fairly sure that is no longer the case, not least because he no longer had any money to speak of. Stolas yawns, and tries to settle his mind, and not think of overlords and depravity for a moment. He needs to sleep more consistently, now that he has an hourly job. 

What a depressing thought. 

When Blitz returns to the room, he doesn’t get back in bed, instead he starts dressing, gathering up a few of the guns scattered haphazardly across the room. 

“Blitz. Where are you going?” Stolas asks slowly, sitting back up. 

“Big man wants us to bodyguard him at some stupid party.” Blitz says, pausing halfway through pulling on his shirt. “Why? You wanna come?” 

“Absolutely not! I am simply curious what you are doing at this hour. Can’t it wait until we open? And since when are you bodyguards?”

“The name is ‘immediate’ so… people kinda expect round the clock service with that kind of name. And you’re the one who started me in this fucking bodyguard business to begin with. Remember?” 

“Right. Of course. Well… be safe.” Stolas says, his voice trailing off into a small, sad coo. 

“...Stolas. Listen. I know you hate the fucker. I mean. I don’t love him myself. But sometimes when you’re on the bottom you just gotta take it to get what you want, even if it’s not fun. Ya know?” Blitz asks, as he finally manages to get his shirt over his horns. 

“...Quite.” 

“Great! Well, I’ll see ya tomorrow!” Blitz says with a grin, cocking a pistol before tossing it into his jacket pocket. “I’m bringin’ Moxxie too. If my phone breaks just call him.”

“Be safe. Blitz.” Stolas says quietly. 

Valentino doesn’t waste much time ordering his chauffeur to bring them to the party once Moxxie and Blitz arrive. He doesn’t seem as talkative or horny as usual, actually. He seems. Angry. Extremely angry. Blitz almost asks why, but before he can open his mouth, Valentino turns to him and Moxxie. 

“Now listen. We’re going to have trouble once  we get in there. That’s why you’re here. But don’t shoot anyone unless I tell you. This club is right next to that stupid fucking hotel. Which means the morningstar bitch is somewhere nearby, and Vox made me promise not to start a war with her.” 

“...Well. I mean we kill people. But. Sure. We can. Not do that? If that’s what you want? Less work for me!” Blitz says with a grin. “Are you sure you want us coming along if you don’t want anyone killed? I mean what do you want us to do?” 

“You’re my thugs, pendejo. Just stand still and look threatening, puta madra.” 

Valentino is quivering with barely restrained anger as the car pulls to a halt outside the shiny bar. Blitz has spent almost no time on this side of pentagram city, but he follows the news enough to have heard about the hotel. It was apparently a huge deal for sinners, but for hellborn? It’s just another building. 

He and Moxxie follow Valentino, as requested, and brandish their weapons, looking as intimidating as possible, something which is unfortunately diminished by their size compared to the sinners thronging the entrance. The crowd shrinks away from the three of them, as Valentino reaches the door, drawing a pistol and sliding the barrel into the doorman’s mouth. 

“The manager. Please.” Valentino purrs, and the sinner guarding the door nods, rushing off. Valentino’s lips split into a wide grin as two men approach. 

“Val. I was wondering when your ass would crawl in here.” Angel Dust says, his lower set of arms crossing as his face sets into a scowl. 

“Angel Dust. Baby. You’ve made your point. This tantrum has gone on long enough. Come back to work. Now.” Valentino holds out a hand. Angel Dust's stomach twists, but he shakes his head slightly.

“Nah. I won't.” He manages to squeeze out of his throat.

 “Did you forget? I fucking own you, darling. You don't get to say no to me.” Valentino growls. He balls his hand up in the air, summoning Angel's soul-chain to drag hin back to the car. But… nothing comes to his hand. He tries again, and again, nothing.

“Alastor? Can you see him out? I have another show in a few.” Angel Dust asks, Alastor nods, grinning.

“You heard him. It's time for you to leave, Valentino.” Alastor says carefully, eyes casting a dim red light as he steps closer. “I wouldn't want to ruin the big night by forcibly rejecting potential patrons. But don’t think I'll hesitate.”

Valentino's mind is spinning. He had Angel under contract. The only way he would lose the chain is if the contract was broken. But that was impossible! Or at least it should be. Was there a loophole? Did Charlie interfere with the contract? Are his other contracts in danger? Fighting Alastor is the last thing on his mind. He needs to get back to the tower, and read through all his fucking contracts. Right now. 

Valentino leaves silently, to Alastor's surprise. And he hardly talks in the car ride back to V tower, to Blitz's surprise. He takes the elevator up, and goes to his office. He begins to pick through every single contract he's written, searching desperately for the hole that allowed Angel to slip through his claws. 

Back at Eden, Angel finishes his last performance for the night, and fucks some poor sap in exchange for his soul. Maybe he'd be an overlord faster than he thought, if people are that desperate for him. As the sun starts to rise, he sits at Eden's bar, sore and exhausted, but satisfied. He'd worked for himself that night. Alastor slips over to the bar, sitting down next to him.

“That went better than I anticipated. We had quite the turnout, and your meglomaniacal former employer didn't cause too much trouble at all for us!” Alastor chirps. 

“Yeah. It did go alright, didn't it?” Angel pours whiskey into two glasses, handing one to Alastor. “To the start of something great.”

“To my wonderful business partner.” Alastor echoes, before draining the glass in the same motion as Anthony. It all feels so painfully familiar to the radio demon, he thinks could cry.

 

Notes:

Sorry for the longer gap than usual! Please comment if you enjoyed the chapter! You can also find me on Tumblr at https://www.tumblr.com/meth-in-venice?source=share

Notes:

Hope you enjoyed it so far! Not much has happened yet, but if you're interested in where things are going please comment! It gives me a lot of motivation to keep writing.

Also if you wanna chat about anything hellaverse related my Tumblr is https://www.tumblr.com/meth-in-venice?source=share