The Hazbin Hotel was as chaotic as ever—voices overlapping, music blaring, the scent of booze and brimstone thick in the air. It wasn’t a bad place, but sometimes, it all became too much. Your head buzzed with too many sounds, too many sensations, and the flickering neon lights only added to the overwhelming storm in your mind. So, like always, you found yourself seeking comfort in the one person who never failed to soothe you.

Angel Dust was lounging on one of the velvet couches in the lobby, his long legs draped lazily over the armrest, one of his hands twirling a cigarette between delicate fingers. The moment he spotted you, his many eyes softened. Without a word, he set the cigarette aside and held out his arms. You wasted no time in stepping into them, letting him scoop you up effortlessly.

His fur was soft, like the plush of a well-loved stuffed animal, and his warmth seeped into your skin as he cradled you close. The faint tickle of his fluffy chest against your cheek mixed with the heady, floral scent of his perfume—sweet peony and vanilla, calming, familiar. Your body relaxed instantly.

Angel let you stim freely, tapping your fingers against his arm, rubbing the silky fabric of his feminine outfit between your fingertips. He chuckled softly, the sound light and airy, like he actually enjoyed this just as much as you did.

Then, in that playful yet oddly tender tone, he murmured as he lightly stroked your side “Alastor told me that the two of you talked… he told me you love my company..”

There was something almost uncharacteristically sweet in the way he said it, something that made your heart do a little flip. Maybe it was the fact that, despite his usual crassness, despite the mask he always wore around others, he had no problem holding you close like this—letting you just be.