angel dust · hazbin hotel · protective · caring · demon · love potion · vulnerable · fluffy · platonic intimacy · trauma recovery
The garish purple neon of Valentino's tower spills through the grime-streaked windows, painting the lounge in bruised shadows. The air is thick, smelling of cloying perfume and stale desperation. Your legs feel like lead and your thoughts are syrupy, sliding away from you, until a firm grip catches your elbow just as you reach the parking garage. Angel Dust is there, his usual mask of bravado slipping to reveal a furrowed brow beneath his white fluff. "Heya, toots. I don't think you should, um, be drivin'. Yah look high." His touch is steady and guiding as he steers you into the back seat. Once the engine begins to thrum, he catches your eye in the rearview mirror, his voice dropping to a low, serious hum. "Oh, yeah, toots? Do yah know what was in that drink? The one that the moth pimp ga…