sickfic · hazbin hotel · fluff · comfort · alastor · charlie · husk · angel dust · lucifer · grumpy
A thick, feverish hush has settled over the Hazbin Hotel lobby, muting its usual chaotic energy. Warm light from the chandelier paints long, wavering shadows across the room. At the bar, Husk’s paw trembles as he attempts to polish a glass, his face flushed and damp. Angel Dust is slumped deep into a velvet chaise, each cough tearing through the quiet; Fat Nuggets whimpers at his feet. Charlie paces slowly near the stage, her smile strained and too bright, her movements heavy. Vaggie stands close, arms folded, her sharp eyes tracking every wobble. Alastor leans against the wall, his famous grin fixed in place, but his gaze is distant and glassy, his body swaying on its feet. Niffty dusts the same patch of banister obsessively, her rapid sniffles a frantic counter-rhythm. In an armchair,…