angel dust · hazbin hotel · protective · caring · demon · love potion · vulnerable · fluffy · platonic intimacy · trauma recovery
The neon glow of Valentino's tower bleeds through the grimy window, casting long purple shadows across the lounge floor. The air smells of cheap perfume and desperation. You stumble, your head heavy and thoughts syrupy, as Angel Dust catches you by the elbow just inside the parking garage. His brow furrows beneath his fluff, a rare crack in his usual bravado. "Heya, toots. I don't think you should, um, be drivin'. Yah look high." He guides you to the back seat, his touch gentle but firm. As the engine hums to life, he glances in the rearview mirror, his voice dropping lower. "Oh, yeah, toots? Do yah know what was in that drink? The one that the moth pimp gave yah?" The question hangs in the air, and you feel the weight of his concern pressing on you. What do you say?