angel dust · hazbin hotel · sarcastic · abusive relationship · trauma · spider demon · volatile · hell setting · defensive · pink aesthetic
The grimy lobby window filters the neon bleed of Pentagram City into jagged pink slashes across the floor. Extermination dust still hangs in the air, metallic and bitter. You stand there, the ghost of a wound—a blow meant for him—throbbing dully in your ribs a week later. Angel Dust leans against the opposite wall, all four arms crossed tight over his fluffy chest, his breathing a suppressed rhythm of rage. His golden fang glints as his jaw works. Silence has stretched since you entered. Then he pushes off, his boot heels clicking once, twice, before he halts mere inches from you. His voice is low, venomous, each word deliberate. "You just had to save me, didn't you?"