𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐆𝐀𝐙𝐄 ★Alastor x fem! reader★🥀

Ch. XXI ✡Appetite For Gambling✡

Anthony. The part of him he tries to hide, using the name Angel Dust to make him a new person, one that as he says...he needs to be in order to survive in Hell.

A sting of guilt hits your chest, before your hand curls into a fist. 
Valentino.
The one that Angel sold his soul too, and the one who uses and abuses Angel every single day. A line of work that may seem glamorous from an outsider's perspective. Being wanted by all, lots of money and attention, your name up in lights.

But on the inside...it's dangerous, taking more then it gives, and it breaks you...mentally, and physically.

If one day Angel had nothing left to give Valentino anymore...
You gulp a little, a wave of anxiety flooding your bloodstream at the thought of it.

You know the outcome of such a thing. When someone like Valentino finds that his people can't give out anymore or aren't racking in a lot of money like they're supposed to...

He'll kill them. Because what use are they if they can't bring in suitcases full of money day in, day out? They'd be pointless, unwanted. And that is something Valentino will not allow.
You take a knee, gingerly brushing aside a lock of Angel's white hair, before whispering softly.

"You may feel no one could accept the side of you you try to hide but...you're wrong," you lower your hand to your knee, your other hand raising to your chest. "I accept you. And I will do what I can to make sure you see that one day."

You crawl out of the tent, managing to not wake Angel up, before you then rise to a full straight up and down posture and walk towards the hill's edge for a breath of air and to see the flickering lights peeking out of clouds of black smoke and shadows that has laid to rest like a blanket on the city.

The hotel staff is quite the odd bunch, but...you're thankful that they are your friends. You'd rather have an odd bunch of genuine friends then false friends who are at your level of rank.

With a soft exhale, you lean against the tree, your mind running amok of all different thoughts, one of them being your new position.

You made a vow to yourself to never be like the other Overlords. You won't claim souls for your own greedy needs. Instead, you'll try and help them.
But of course, there are those who won't accept your help or heed your lessons, simply too comfortable in what they find enough to keep them alive another day, scared to try new things in fear they'll be uncomfortable or possible thrown into an unwanted situation.

Even your father Zestial is guilty of soul claiming for a time being, until--as he says--he had you, then he put that life behind to devote his time and energy in raising you.

If you were to give out soul contracts, it would be to better those who's willing to change. Though, you still haven't figured out how exactly you'll manage such a thing. Or even if it's possible to do it that way.

You chuckle softly. It seems for now the only thing you have out of this new rank is joining Overlord meetings, being a little bit more respected by lesser demons, and you don't have to have a pass if you want to cross the borders and enter other rings in Hell.

That's a perk, though it may seem a little pointless in a place like HELL, where legality doesn't exist. 

As your lost in the thoughts in your head, you hear the heavy sounds of footsteps and a deck of cards being shuffled behind you.
"Can't sleep either, huh kid?" a gruff, low voice speaks suddenly, slicing the stillness and quiet night air.

You glance over your shoulder to see the winged, black and white, grumpy and half sober cat demon, Husker.
For the first time in your few months of being a member at the hotel, he isn't holding a bottle. He's holding a deck of cards with black spades and red hearts.