"Hmph," you dramatically collapsed onto the couch. "That little twit! She's gonna fucking regret—"
"Whoa, whoa, easy there," Vaggie warned, a bit anxious herself. You were not one to swear easily, and that was absolutely saying something.
"Katie Killjoy, ha! More like Katie Knucklehead," you grumbled under your breath. You clawed into the couch, biting down on your bottom lip in an attempt to not return to the studio just to destroy it.
You'd gotten back to the hotel after the horrid attempt at an interview and Angel's little "outburst". Long story short, Charlie did not heed Vaggie's warnings, leading to an argument with the so-called show-host. At this point, you'd completely abandoned your usual mannerisms, absolutely fuming after Katie dared touch Charlie.
"Y/n, you don't have to be so angry," Vaggie's voice was strained before the last of her energy depleted and she too collapsed on the couch.
You sat back up, staring down the shabby lobby whilst propping up your heavy head with your elbows. The entire place was toned with the same bloody red that adorned everything else in Hell. The ground was littered with streamers and trash, collected in an attempts to look welcoming. The check-in counter—which had never been used—had a dingy banner draped over it. The entire scene wrapped up with the knocked over furniture and patchy walls. Honestly, if it weren't for the grime, lowly decorations, and broken pillars, the hotel probably wouldn't have looked half-bad. With its gorgeous golden accents and apple motifs. It was just the fact that it was glaringly obvious no one had touched it in years that made it seem so depressing.
Angel strode over to the fallen mini-fridge which housed all the food in the entirety of the hotel. He eagerly dug into the thing just to find a battered box of popsicles. While it looked extremely sketchy, this was Angel we were talking about, of course he didn't question it.
You turned your head to Charlie, who had a disappointed grimace on her usually upbeat face. She found refuge on a crate which held who knew what.
"Eh, it's probably a good idea to get some actual food in this place. Y'know, to feed all the wayward souls you got in here!" he mocked mercilessly. "Eh heh, heh, eh heh, heh, eh..." you couldn't help but notice his slight lapse in confidence when he witnessed the dejected look on Charlie's face. You watched carefully as he was tempted to comfort her before backing away. 'What a strange guy', you thought to yourself.
Charlie left for a moment, disappearing behind the stained glass doors. Angel immediately turned to you, "So, you're magic, right? Why don't you use some of that voodoo stuff to make people come here?" he asked, waving the popsicle in your face.
"Uhh, please be quiet," you groaned, not in the mood.
"Come on, can't be that hard?" Not even looking up, you snapped and his popsicle was replaced with a beignet. "Thanks, sweet cheeks!" he grinned cockily. So much for shutting him up.
You heard the door click closed as Charlie reentered the hotel. Than you heard it open again. "Hel—" Then close. Then open. "lo—" Then close. Then—
"Vaggie? Y/n?"
"What?" Vaggie asked, obviously annoyed by the constant interruptions.
"Charlie? Who was that?" you asked anxiously. That voice was so familiar. It couldn't be...
Charlie put on her trademarked everything-is-absolutely-not-fine smile, "The radio demon is at the door."
"What?!" you and Vaggie exclaimed in unison.
"Who?" Angel added, barely looking up from the pastry.
Oh, god. Oh, Satan. Oh, no. Not him.
"What should I do?"
"Well, don't let him—y/n?"
You curled your knees up to your chest, rocking back and forth. Your tail wrapped around your bundled form protectively. "Huh? I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm totally fine! What could possibly be wrong? I don't know! Ha, ha!" It was only then when you realized why Vaggie had pointed you out. Little trinkets that were once on the ground glowed a bright f/c, levitating around you. The objects shook and spun and—
"Y/n!"
—clattered back to the ground. You despised your magic for those exact reasons. "I'm sorry, Vaggie. I don't know what came over me... where's Charlie?"
Before she could answer, a painfully evocative voice rang throughout the lobby, "Alastor! Pleasure to be meeting you, sweetheart! Quite a pleasure!" radio tinged tone and all. He sidestepped the sensory overloaded Charlie, easily letting himself into the hotel. "Excuse my sudden visit, but I saw your fiasco in a picture show, and I couldn't resist. What a performance!" A laughing track played, the prerecorded tune being the only one even slightly humored by his presence. "Why, I haven't been that entertained since the stock market crash of 1929!" He spun and spoke with a scarily enthusiastic voice, "Hahahahaha, so many orphans," he muttered, still striding across the room with confidence. His eyes darted around said room for a moment before they landed on you. If his grin could possibly get any larger, you'd swear on your life—death—that it did.
His smile, his voice, his eyes. They were all just as you'd remembered; just as you'd reminisced all those years ago.
You were snapped out of your thoughts when a spear was pointed towards the uncanny 'stranger'. He barely even flinched, just staring down at it with a smile. "Stop right there, cabrón hijo de perra," Vaggie muttered lowly, " I know your game and I'm not gonna let you hurt anyone here, you pompous, cheesy, talk show shitlord!" she spat.
The man just laughed in return, pushing her spear away with a single finger, "Dear, if I wanted to hurt anyone here—" in a blink his eyes turned to radio dials. The lobby was filled to the brim with loud static, and the man himself causing this chaos was surrounded by veve. Gone for seven years and he still practices voodoo? "—I̷̲̱̬̝̙͇͑̈́̽͗̾̕ ̷̖̅̍̎w̵̹͉̩͈̱̗̻̎̋̈́͜o̶̫̪̭̣̹̾̓ͅͅu̸̱͊̿̌̔̎ľ̸̡̧͎͛͂͠͝ḓ̵̢͉̟̮̞̘͉̇̑͋͝'̵̜͎̖̝̞̟̣͉̊̍̅̄̋̾̈v̷̻̬̜͙̞̋͌ę̸̻̦̗̠͔͓̤̏̍̀̎̀͑͘ ̸̡̧̮̗͚͇̈́̀̓̔̒̋̈́͘d̶̨̯̻͕̼͇͙̭̈́ó̸̞̫̦͉̱̪̄͒́̓̇̿͝n̵͚̲̠̖̮͙͂͝ȅ̵͉̳͓͋͝ ̸͎̮̲̜͗̆̈̈s̶̘͍͈͈̜͉̲̔̎̓̃̽̿ỏ̶̺̪̞̜͋̓̏̍̋̕ ̸̨͎̟͕̦̑̑ͅa̸̟̬͇͔̩̼̓̈̿͜͝l̷̢̲̘͕͔̿̎̅ȓ̷̨̲͙̈͋̓ḙ̴̻̰̤͕̝̬͑͛a̷̼̘̭͑͑̏͑̏͝d̶͖̝̺͉̠̳̹̃̾̕y̶̡̨̧͉̼̭̪̽́̋.̵̨̞̯̙̯̟́̏̈́͜"̶̟̥͇͔̳̪̕͜
Everyone—save for you of course—stared at him astounded. With a simple shake of his head, he returned to his previous state, "No, I'm here because I want to help!" he said, leaning down to Vaggie, Charlie, and yourself. Wait, how did you get all the way over here?
Charlie leaned over in disbelief, "Say what now?"
"Help! Hahaha," he exclaimed, popping in way too close the the three of you before quickly leaning away again. His charisma shone through like a blinding beacon. He brought his microphone to his face, "Hello? Is this thing on? Testing? Testing!" He tapped his vintage microphone. His confident smile and demeanor didn't falter for a moment.
"Well, I heard you loud and clear!" went the sentient mic. The only thing that did was get him more strange looks from the girls.
"Um... you want to help?" Charlie repeated, the reality of the situation just sinking in.
The three of you jumped as his voice reappeared behind you, "This ridiculous thing you're trying to do; this hotel! I want to help you run it."
Charlie seemed taken aback by the actual interest he had in her idea. The idea that everyone in the entirety of hell had cackled at. "Uh, why?"
***
1219 words
"Well... I died. But I came back to make you guys another chapter! See? I wouldn't forget you! Expect more updates (ngl this stories probably dead to the algorithm bc I haven't updated in years). Anyways, vote and comment your thoughts if you genuinely like this story and don't want it to die, and I'll see you next chapter!"
- Coffee
YOU ARE READING
To Expect the Unexpected || Alastor x Reader
Fiksi Penggemar"You were the last person he'd kill, and the last one he did." You lived a fair life, longing for nothing more than to put a smile on at least one person's face whenever you had the chance. You'd been known as the calm, caring, and sensible part of...
