Chapter Text
Quick Disclaimer: I do not own a single thing inside of the Hazbin hotel. Everything belongs to Vivienne Maree Medrano, AKA Vivzepop.
Angel Dust’s head was swimming. Flashing lights, fucking off-key music. There was a warmth that coated his entire back. Not a pleasant warmth, not like his blanket back at the Hotel. For sure not like the warmth on his chest when Fat Nuggets wanted a cuddle, or that full body warmth when he looked at...Cherri...
Cherri. Cherri Bomb. His friend. His savior. His L-
Then the pain. The nasty warmth dripped off his back, onto his naked ass, and the drip landed in just the wrong spot and then there was a sharp crack OH FUCK IT BURNS!!
This was the mirror all over again. That look of pure disgust he was giving himself. The deceptively sharp cuff of the fucking ugly pink handcuffs he had been forced to wear. The look of sheer, smug satisfaction on Val's angular face as he thrust forward and OH FUUUUUUUUUCK IT BURNS SO FUCKING BAD!!!!!!!
Angel wanted to scream. He wanted to scream and smash something and cry and puke and just cuddle up with Cherri and Nuggets. He wanted to go home. Home. Back to the Hazbin. His bed. His friends and-
And then the shadow crossed his face. Angel sluggishly looked up, his normal eye barely focused, his black eye twitching from his demonic energy being so completely fucked up.
The grin. That fucking grin from the fucking mirror. It shone pink through Angel's fucked up state of mind like a ray of the Pentagram's twisted light looking for anyone with a hangover. All Angel could really do was stare at those sharp teeth, that fucking tongue: equal parts silver and fucking venom. The voice. It rang through Angels head like he was the clapper in Quazimodo's fucking bell. Somehow, through the haze and the pain and the cuffs digging into all six of his arms and both of his legs, Angel managed to discern what his least favorite voice was saying to him.
"Now now, Angel baby. Wasn't that fun? Didn't you miss this? Aren't you glad you came home to me?"
NO!! NO YOU FUCKING LITERAL BAG OF DOUCHE SHIT AND SLEAZE!!! NO NO NO NO NO I FUCKING HATE YOU!! I WANT TO GO HOME I WANT TO GO HOME I FUCKING WANT TO GO HOME!!!
But Angel couldn't say that. Whatever shit had been in that needle was some of the most potent stuff Angel had ever been on the receiving end of. Custom mixed: equal parts heroin, the Dust, and some magical bullshit that flooded straight into his mind and took the wheel without a single say-so from his own consciousness.
So when Angel's mouth opened, it wasn't in a defiant snarl. It didn't curse out this smirking asshat in front of him. It didn't demand Angel's release, nor voice his desires to run back to the hotel as fast as all eight of his appendages could carry him.
No. Angel's mouth opened into the same kind of sleazy grin. He licked a drip of that same nasty warmth off his lip, and felt another three replace it. It tasted fucking terrible, almost pure salt with an odor of rotting carcass, but his body swallowed it. He let out a childish giggle, his unfocused eyes still looking in the direction of that fucking Cheshire grin straight from the 9th level.
"Yes, Daddy Valentino." Angel said, in the voice of someone far too baked out of their entire fucking body to even comprehend they had spoken. His body giggled again, whilst his somehow sharp consciousness screamed from within its chemically induced cage.
"I'm so happy to be home!"