Hehkshew! [REQUESTS OPEN!]

˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚ 19 || SNZ / Kink Blog // ⚠️ MINORS DNI ⚠️ // Requests always open!

[hehkshew]

HEY THERE! [INTRO POST]

I've seen a lot of blogs with these so I think one's needed? A short spam of words about my account for any newcomers.

I'll definitely be editing this once I start getting used to this whole blog thing but for now some information:

I am 18+ and so is this blog! If you are a minor, please kindly don't interact with it.

My blog is for sickfic content that I wouldn't post elsewhere. A place to share ideas, writing and drawings.

Before I get onto Fandom's and other things such as that, I only have two rules:

Reblogging and commenting on my posts is absolutely fine! I actually really enjoy reading what people leave in the tags

Shipping hate is not tolerated here! This part of the internet is already niche enough as is, and we don't need that here.

With that out of the way here's some navigation for you:

My Writing is under the #my fic tag!

My Artwork is under the #my art tag!

What I'll write/draw:

Sneeze content

Emeto

Illness

Any other sickfic things

(Whichever I write/draw for will be tagged correctly so you're able to mute the tag if that's something you don't want to see.)

The only thing I won't write or draw is Scat, Omorashi or Age Play/Regression. You're free to request anything else.

Fandoms I'll write/draw for:

H/azbin Hotel

- If you’re interested in requesting or suggesting a ship involving Angel and Alastor, I’ll prefer only to be doing those if it’s R/adiodust. It’s just the dynamic I enjoy working with the most!

I'm open to other ships and don't mind drawing/writing them. But please respect mine!

Requests for drawings/writing are ALWAYS open!

(And with that, on a final note I'm fully down to do art trades with other sickfic freaks!)

[hehkshew]

I’ve seen no angel snz content in months 😔

Guess I gotta do it myself

[hehkshew]

On another note to those who follow me, I'm going to be posting way more art and fics over at @achynshakey for multiple things! In a lot higher quality (But ya know, still mostly snz since that's my guilty pleasure LOL)

[hehkshew]

Guys its been a WHILE but PLEASE send me your haz/bin suggestions for snz fics! Back in the mood to post more A/ngel and A/lastor fics so send as many as you want in!

(PS. To break the shyness curse I'll be posting them on ao3 here)

[allergyenthusiast]

Show, Don't Tell

[Haz/bin Ho/tel, Al/as/tor & An/gel D/ust]

(sorry for the literal eight month lag @hehkshew, and sorry for the questionable quality >< something's better than nothing, I hope?)

---

Alastor does not like show and tell days. Usually, he has the perfect excuse: "I'm rather busy. Maybe next time." Then Charlie had to go and change up the script by asking if he was currently busy, and he, foolish man that he is, answered in earnest. Oh, perhaps she needs help with advertising. Maybe she's planning on fortifying our defenses for the next extermination. Surely this won't be for something as asinine and silly as a round of show and tell.

"Val loves this kinda shit," Angel drawls from the sofa. "Somethin' about makin' the weak suffer, I dunno, but hey," he shrugs, "an award's an award."

An award for what, best cold haver? Best allergy sufferer? Best resilience in getting aggressively fucked while coughing and sneezing up a storm? Alastor doesn't get it. Accolades are meant for the outstanding and extraordinary; Angel's just... writhing around on a biohazard of a bed.

"Aw, what's the matter, Smiles? You a prude and a germaphobe?"

The sutures around Alastor's grin gleam a bright green, but Angel persists.

"Ohh, I get it. You're jealous because there ain't a chance in this ring a' Hell that you could put up with this kinda sufferin' and still look hot doin' it."

"If this is what you consider... attractive," Alastor's eye twitches, "then even the most average of sinners could replicate this display of sexual conduct."

Silence falls, sans the copious amount of sniffling and moaning thrashing through the television speakers. Alastor relishes in his little verbal victory, content to wipe his hands of yet another meaningless spat with the resident arachnid, but oh, how his foolishness haunts him. Following in every footstep, as if the curse rests in his shadow itself.

The infernal thing does seem rather amused by his keeper's current predicament.

"What do you think you're doing?" Alastor grits his teeth. Joints pop, bones creak, shrill feedback invades the otherwise blissful quiet of a once unused hotel hallway as Angel slinks into Alastor's personal bubble. "You said you had a question, not a proposition."

"Eh, all the same ta me." His nails clink against the tiny glass vial in his hands, as if to sing a parody of taps for Alastor's incoming demise of sorts. "Relax, would ya? It's not gonna hurt or nothin', and besides," Angel smirks, "you're the big bad Radio Demon, ain't ya? A li'l spritz of this shit won't hurt someone as scary an' strong as you."

The rebuttal sways on the tip of his tongue, but before he can so much as utter a sound, an airy, clattering shatter of glass twinkles at his feet. A misty cloud of... something... hangs in the air-- and good heavens, what is that, minty dust and earthen undertones of-- oh... oh no.

"And if aaany ol' sinner can make a stunnin', sexy performance outta a few sneezes..."

Alastor turns on his heel, clutching the head of his staff in a white knuckle death grip and applying just as much pressure to the underside of his nose. A practiced maneuver, one that's saved him many a time during his golden era days - appropriate for pollen and dust, and borderline useless for this pungent, sharp, tickly odor of what must be a perfume infused with every irritant under the cursed sun. His nostrils wouldn't be flaring so aggressively otherwise, never mind the thin droplets of irritation seeping into his gloved finger.

"Ugh, a whole day a' workin' with this shit, and it still tickles. Damn it," Angel grumbles, a fierce sniffle punctuating his thoughts.

It's an incredible tickle, yes, one that has Alastor stealthily sneaking gasps of air; a vain attempt at soothing the itch deftly blossoming through his sinuses.

"What on-- hhh-h... whh-what IS that wr-rrehh... wretched... concoction-- nnh-hih!" Essence of rose thorns and mint leaves? It certainly feels as if brambles of ticklish torment are crawling through his nose; a terrible distraction, the damned burn, snuffing out any semblance of control with every hitch of his breath. What used to take a simple snap of his fingers evolves into a monumentous undertaking, his hands needing - begging - to paw and scrub at his nose. A barrier between the audience and his reflexive gasps, palms unsteady in their efforts to mask the incompetence masquerading as incoherence. "What is that?" The words gust past his lips in a single breath, the cadence high and choppy.

"Couldn't tell ya." Angel Dust shrugs. "Just somethin' that makes me sneeze my brains out whenever I'm doin' that sorta film."

"It's... ehh-hih!! Oh," Alastor almost groans, "absolutely dread... dread..."

"Damn, Smiles, you've got really nice eyelashes. Never noticed 'til you started fightin' with that-- eihhs-ssh'heww! Eugh. C'mon, really?" Angel swipes at his nose, wriggling and scrunching and sniffling and oh, Alastor's gonna kill him. That's a problem for future Angel, though; current Angel has a show to watch. "Hours of this shit and it's still settin' me off. How the hell are you not sneezin' already?"

Sheer force of will and an unhealthy obsession with staying in constant control, obviously.

"Just pretend I'm not here!" If only Alastor could keep his eyes open - Angel's grin probably puts his to shame right now. "C'mon, everyone sneezes now 'n' again! Nothin' ta be embarrassed about. Oh, shit, hold on, d'you have one-a those mousey sneezes? Hah!" Yeah, Angel's double dead after this; might as well make himself especially cozy and enjoy his front row seat while he can. "You afraid of seemin' even slightly cute, Creepy Face? Although, I gotta admit, ya look way less intimidatin' like this."

Ah, yes, just what every Overlord loves to hear. Nothing strokes an ego quite like ill-disguised, underhanded insults, and nothing stokes a fiery tickle quite like--

"ihheh'ht-tkshy--?! ...hieh!"

--whatever this oppressive, burgeoning, all-consuming airborne substance is!

"--yy'yyehh-hh-- you-uueh! You-- heihh!" Even deciding what to do with his hands feels a futile effort. Palming at his nose, grinding his wrist against his flaring nostrils; fuck, just pinching the twitchy thing shut has his jaw slack with hyper-hitching breaths, and that... that squelch. Audible and poorly masked with garbling static that only seems to aggravate the buzzing between his eyes.

"Iiiii, what, shouldn't think about just... takin' out my phone an' recording your sneezes?" Angel laughs.

"Youuu-uuehh!"

"Only need audio, baby. Sooo, what do you say? Ya ready to make your debut?"

Alastor steadies himself with his microphone, the crook of his arm hovering preemptively in front of his face. Clear droplets of thin mess cling to his upper lip, lashes laced together with a matching set of tears that scream with obvious weakness, a translucent flag of surrender sliding down his cheek before he bends at the waist.

"heheahhet-tzzsh'shEZZKTCH! HAHHDT-KTZZT'TCHU! hehhhtzh-shhk-kszzht'tzzhu!"

"Wow," Angel drawls. "You really go all out when you--"

"hehhhHHKT-SHK'HZZDT'TZ! --zzehhTZK-SZZT!--TS'HHUHH-- HHEHHTZZZHU!"

"--sneeze, yeah." Angel glances over his shoulder, piloted by what could be considered the precursor of guilt. Nothing but unoccupied space behind him, and yet, the urge to drape Alastor over his shoulder and tuck him into an empty room lingers. Mounting with every hitch of his breath, spiking with every sneeze; fuck, if Alastor didn't hate being touched, Angel would usher him into a nearby room for the illusion of privacy. Static tingles against his arms every time Alastor sneezes, and while he's no scientist, Angel's fairly certain he can't be the only one dealing with the aftershocks. "Shit, uhh, y'might wanna..."

"kkzzht! --tzk! -szzzhfft'teEHHTZSH!" Alastor tries to stifle the onslaught between his fingers, his vice-like grip going limp the moment he realizes how utterly unsatisfying it is to even try and hold back. The maddening, seemingly infinite tickle chips away at his restraint with every breath and groan, the burn scorching its way through his once ironclad ego, crumpling into himself like a used tissue. "haaezzzht! eh'hHEHhhhtzh! hhh-h! hihh! hhHIHH--?"

Angel startles out of his gawking stare with a short leap and a yelp, hopping away from the shadowy visage grasping at his ankle. Alastor's shadow has always been unnerving, popping out from behind wall decor, slithering over the floor with its manic grin without a care in the underworld. Angel knows for a damn fact that Alastor does it on purpose despite his avid claims that no, his shadow just likes to roam around when it gets bored, it's nothing personal! Now that its inky arm tugs at Angel's ankle, though... Maybe the creepy thing does have a mind of its own. Sure sneezes like it does, though not as spectacular in comparison to its creator.

"You alright there Smiles?" Angel kicks away the shadow and strides up to Alastor, mindful to keep his distance. Six feet apart, and Angel can still see the glare of Alastor's twitching nose. Raw skin, wet-rimmed nostrils flaring in unpredictable patterns of urgency and anticipation.

"hehhh'ehh heh! hhih... hh'hht-!--ah'hehh-- hehhHH- HHEHhh--hhh--fffuck, just le-ehht meehh... ehh'hHH!" Alastor's brow arches and slants, tiptoeing the line of relief as his hand flutters near his nose, fingers curling every time the sneeze gets away from him. "God-dhh... hh-hhiit reallyyheh... really tickles..."

"Wish I could say I told ya so, but... shit, maybe I shoulda recorded, y'got a real knack for this-- I'm not gonna!" Angel holds his empty hands up, hesitantly stepping away from the uptick in violent crackling. "Take it easy, would ya?"

Pops and zaps of staticky feedback rake over his ears, and maybe it's just his imagination, but he's pretty sure Alastor's not actually trying to square up for a fight. Not with that weepy nose, or with that outstretched hand. After living with the guy for well over a year, Angel's learned the difference between a hand itching to fight and a hand of neutrality. With annoyance comes tension: the stiffened joints, the angle to his hooked fingers, the feigned pleasantries sitting in his palms. On a good day, the hands speak louder than his voice, and on the kind of day Angel can't quite place, they're uncannily stiff. Now, though, they're almost... tame. Delicate waves at the wrist, sprawling fingers that can't quite decide where they need to be. Held by puppet strings and piloted with a question needing to be answered. Nonsense to some, but crystal clear to Angel Dust.

"Holding it in or letting it out?"

Alastor holds up two fingers. Message received.

"Okay, so, no more-a that stuff." In every sense, as indicated by efficacy and shards of glass twinkling on the floor. "Y'got any allergies, or like a stray feather, or ah... Anything sneezy?"

"I-I-iiehh-hh! I-- ahheh! hih! HIIH! The-ehh-eere's a... a-ahh'hh... God," Alastor tries to crack open a teary eye, "ihh-if you much as... a-as thi-iihh-! So much as think about this -hh'h- ever again-- hHIH-HhhehH! HEHHT--? Huhhh... Fuck..."

"Yeah yeah, you'll rip me t'shreds, got it. I'll be right back. An' ya better not sneeze while I'm gone, I'm not makin' the trip to my room for nothin'."

The seconds tick by, Alastor frozen on the cusp of a sneeze that has him so frazzled he can't decide if he wants to sneeze into the crook of his elbow or the too-familiar caress of his hand. Reluctance settles into Angel's feet, a morbid curiosity and a sliver of concern taking root in his chest before heaving it away with a sigh.

Alastor didn't have to threaten him to keep quiet about all this. Does he think Angel likes the sting, knowing that Alastor wouldn't lift a finger to do half of what Angel's doing for him? Why would he entertain the memory of fast walking to his room - hurrying to his fucking room to grab one of the feathery boas in his goddamned closet just to help the worst person in Hell fight against a sneeze, of all things? Contrary to what the films say, Angel doesn't particularly love shame. He wishes he could say the same about Alastor's conundrum. He's done the math: Whether it was by his clumsy hand or not, he simply doesn't like to watch the guy suffer.

What a damnable testimonial to the hotel's efficacy. Too bad the secret ascends or dies with him.

"Didn't think ya'd listen!" Angel swipes away the frown, donning the usual persona as he saunters back to Alastor. Christ, if he didn't clock the added layers of scarlet brushed over his face, he'd have assumed Alastor hadn't moved at all. "Alright, let's get this over with." He waves the feathery instrument in his hand, tufts of pink and black fluttering closer to their designated target. Not a color scheme he'd choose for the Radio Demon, personally; the softer pink glistening on the edges of his cheeks does, unfortunately, suit him quite well. "Now don't go full psycho killer mode on me for this. You asked." He narrows his eyes. "You fuckin' owe me for this, by the way. 'Specially if ya sneeze on me. You're not payin' me enough for that."

Alastor's brow furrows between hitching breaths, and Angel can't help but snicker when the implication hits. He can't tell if Alastor's trying to roll his eyes or if he's still just getting edged and teased by the stubborn sneeze. Whatever the case, Angel forces his pride to return, demanding that the fuzzy pain in his chest be erased by the knowledge of having an overlord in the palm of his hand. It's a nice change.

"Ohh-hhh fff-ehhHHH! HEEeehH-hh'H Hihhh hIHH!" Alastor's head tilts backwards, beckoning the feathers closer to his flaring nostrils, nose writhing in agony for something, anything, to coax out this accursed hellfire smoldering in his sinuses. "iihh-HH! hhehh-hhuh-hhih-- hHIH-HHT!" Angel watches on in rapt fascination as Alastor's desperation manifests in purposeful shakes of his head, nuzzling against the fluffy barbs as if he's fallen into the hypnotic embrace of promised release. "ehhhHT'kzz... huuehhHHKSshz... aaeht--!"

"Aw, c'mon," Angel coos, "there's gotta be a few in there that're itchin' to come out!"

"heyht-! hahh-ahtk--?!" Light bounces off the tears trickling down his flushed cheeks, each false start straining his smile with a wider stretch and a test of his mental fortitude. You know Alastor's in bad shape if he doesn't so much as chuckle when presented with a cheesey pun. "hehhsz- zhh'huhh heeh'hihh-hHIH!"

"ehhHT-TSshu!" Angel sneezes into one of his free hands. "aahhsh-hew! ... hehheytsshhUU! Fuckin' hell. How're you not fallin' apart already?" Angel sniffles. "Lookit all the fluffy dust 'n' stuff this thing's kickin' up! Y'waitin' for permission or somethin'?"

Alastor's hand clamps around Angel's thin shoulder. An agreement, a plea to stay quiet, a demand for more, a warning of sorts... Angel eyes it curiously, still weaving the feathers between Alastor's needy nostrils while attempting to translate such an unfamiliar gesture. His fluency only goes as far as daily warning signs and vague conversations about mayhem and terror, and god damn it, imagine if the roles were reversed. He's putting way too much effort - too much heart - into such a silly and meaningless task.

"Ugh, okay." Angel huffs. "If ya don't start sneezin' in the next thirty seconds, I'm gonna leave 'n' let you figure this one out on your own."

Goosebumps sprout across Angel's shoulder. A fleeting squeeze beckons for him, like a threat whisked away on a lazy summer evening, or a lasso cinched around a practice target when no one's looking. Kudos to Alastor for refining the art of masterful manipulation. Such a gentle ministration, capable of tapping into the ingrained responses to biting palms and scathing nails; no venomous stings or tar-laden words to stick deep into his conscience, just the demure touch of a monster roleplaying as a tortured man begging for help. What lies underneath the skin, the hands weathered by decades of mutilation, rests little more than hot blood stoked by the flames of selfishness. Angel knows this, knows he's a means to an end as he's always meant, and yet, between the cracks, through the stuttering gasps and escaped sneezes, a shred of humanity calls to him. No screaming, no degrading, just a single outstretched hand.

This fucking hotel, man! It really changes a person, god damn.

"Here, lemme try somethin'."

"Nngh...!"

"Ya don't gotta whine like that, jeez. I ain't leavin' ya, just gotta switch things up a bit." Angel holds up a single feather, carefully plucked and curated for Alastor alone. Wispy and cloudlike at the base, with just enough resilience in the spine to withstand the sopping wet conditions of Alastor's anguished nose. "Sometimes ya gotta go deeper to really feel it, ya know?"

Angel wouldn't be Angel if he didn't tease him a little bit. Figure eights around the trembling rims, accidentally on purpose dipping the feather in just for a little taste of what's to come, laughing when Alastor almost jerks away on reflex because, "hey, that's just the tip. You're gonna hafta take the whoooole thing if ya wanna..." The innuendo shatters as the feather plunges into his nose. "Sneeze."

The hand squeezes his shoulder.

"heshhH- HHhH-HIHH- hhihhh'ih hHIIEH! IEHH-H!" Alastor tumbles over his own feet, dizzy and lightheaded after all that hyperventilating, disoriented by the lack of free hands to cover his mouth with. One for steadying, the other still clutching his staff; the latter fumbles with the lapel of his coat in a last ditch effort to find his manners. "HH-HIETTKS-SZZZHIUE!"

Angel winces at the sudden spike in shoulder pain, but stays rooted in place, captivated by the performance unraveling before him. A private little show not meant for viewing audiences or stray bypassers, just him and him alone. Fuck, this is his production, really. He made an entire movie outta this, what with the sneezy spray stuff, the feathers, the undertones of vulnerability and themes of helplessness. "Damn I'm good," he whispers through a steady grin.

"AEHHHT-KSSZZZHT! HH'HTZZK! KEHHSHZZ-ZZSHU! hehhyyhEEZZSH! -SHHK! -TSHH! -TZZSHIEW! hahh-hhihhHHHT-- TTZZZSTCHU! huh, hah, hahhh... hhdtf'fsszhkt! ktzch! ah-ksh! szzht! Tch-ktz'zsshhiue! ha'ATTZZSHH-SHIUE!"

"Uhh..." Angel blinks. "Smiles? You still here? Ya didn't short out on us or somethin', did you?"

Another squeeze. "I caahh-hhaahn't- hih! Can't-- hIHH! Can't talk...! Kzzh'shiuh! iih-hihhtihzzh! hiyyeeET'ZZzshew!"

"Gonna give up on the radio biz? I mean, if ya can't talk 'n' all."

"How cle-ehh-... cl-llehhEVVZKSHIE! EHHHhH'SSKZZT!-TSHH-SSHhhoo! Uugh..." Alastor sniffles behind the sanctity of his coat. "Clever."

And the hand falls.

... Huh.

It just... falls. Just like that. Angel's not a gambling man, per se, but he would've gone all in on the possibility of Alastor shoving him away. Or at least using him as a pushing off point or something. Not... whatever that was. Weird. For how lithe he is, his hands look nothing like Val's, either.

"All good?" Angel cocks his brow, scanning for signs of impending sniffles or tickly sneezes.

"As good as one could be after such a... ahh... aht'tsh-iew!"

"Hah! I knew it!" Angel beams with an accusatory finger. "You do got one-a those squeaky sneezes! Aaand a bunch-a electric staticky ones, but still!"

Alastor glares, cheeks blending in quite nicely with his coat. From the fit, presumably. "Not a single word."

"What, ya don't trust me? I ain't sayin' shit to no one."

"Very good." Alastor snaps up a handkerchief, grimacing at the state of his clothes. A task for Niffty, if anyone else. "This was your doing, after all. But... I do thank you for your help."

Angel pauses. "What did you say?"

Alastor turns away, content to blow his nose in measured breaths, hisses of static and pops of electricity peppering the air.

"No, nuh uh, we're not doin' that. What'd you say, Smiles? Was that a thank you I heard?"

Alastor replies with a louder, purposeful blow, turning away with Angel hot on his heels.

"C'mooon, I didn't do all that work just for that sad excuse of a reward! Just one more, and make it louder this time! Pleeeease? It'll die with me, I swear!"

With all he's learned during their little show and tell moment, Angel's 90% certain that Alastor could've put a little more oomph into that door slam. Damn. Even the Radio Demon has better self-control than Val.

Someday, just once in his second life, Angel Dust would love to end a session without some sort of slap to the face.

[hehkshew]

Okay I have SO MANY things to say about this! This is like the most perfect thing I’ve ever read and absolutely my favourite fic of the two 😭 this was so worth the wait! I love seeing Angel being such a tease! And helping him out was the sweetest ever 🥺 I’m so going to keep rereading this! There’s been so little content of these two ever since the show came out so seeing this made me genuinelly so happy! You wrote them so perfectly thank you ❤️❤️ everyone should definitely give this a read I love these stupid guys so much

[hehkshew]

Well It's official! I'll be posting my Snz fics to AO3, I'm still trying to figure out posting to both of these places so forgive me if it's a little janky.

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

This is my AO3! Comments are absolutely appriciated! Thank you for the advice guys. :) I hope to post some new fanfics soon, AO3 seems exciting.

[hehkshew]

I’m so tempted to post my writing to Ao3 but also what if they kill on sight at the sudden posting of 20 Hazbin Snz fics

I need someone to hold my hand

[hehkshew]

Sweater Weather... Or Not (H/azbin H/otel) A/ngel D/ust x A/lastor [1700 Words]

A/ngel and A/lastor are finally doing something long overdo and cleaning out their closet. When A/ngel finds an article of clothing he wasn't seen in years he's beyond excited. A/lastor doesn't share that sentiment. Or, there's a possibility A/ngel could be allergic.

@snzysceneslut definitely didn't give me a shit ton of motivation to write a new fic of the two LOL

Cleaning day, the most dreaded day in Hell.

This wasn’t an official day they’d picked, not by far. But their wardrobe was getting rather… Over the top, that would be the right way to word it.

How had they come to that conclusion? Fat nuggets nearly getting trampled by the mountain of heels that fell, nearly smothering the poor thing.

“Alright, half of this shit needs to go.” Angel sighed as he picked up his beloved pig, and that’s how it was settled. Which was how they got here.

The Crackle of the radio humming in the background, playing a familiar distant tune as Angel and Alastor got to work. They’d been sharing a room for a while now, mostly anyway.

Angel’s room that the Radio Demon occasionally found himself sneaking into to sleep, not that this was something he’d admit.

But now it was a little more than nightly visits, Angel’s wardrobe had also been decorated by various belongings, coats he’d never owned, a nauseating amount of red which was too much even for him.

Both stood in it as they tried to organise through the Hell it contained. Already designated boxes alay, ones to throw, keep and donate.

Donation wasn’t really a thing in Hell, it was more like go around and see who wants free shit, and if not? Leave a box out and somebody would be sure to steal it.

They were making decent progress! Though there was quite a bit of… Distractions.

Specifically Angel getting excited everytime he found something even a few months old, claiming how he’d not seen it in, ‘forever’. Moving onto the next thing after a gentle prompting by Alastor, before immediately finding something new as the cycle repeated.

It wasn’t just clothes in there though. Strange things he didn’t remember too well, most of it was Alastors stuff to be fair. An alarming amount of Radio’s, even for the broadcasting Demon.

“Alright, ya’ can’t ask me to throw out any more shit if you’re not going to do anything about these.” Angel huffed, arms full of the miniature pieces of technology.

“They’re vintage, Dear.” He hummed delightfully.

“Well yeah, we died in the 1900’s, everything's vintage. That ain’t exactly a shocker, babe.” Rolling his eyes as he placed them carefully back where they once were.

“Ugh, I swear this thing’s a black hole.” Angel muttered, yanking out another pile of clothes, not paying half mind as he flickered through it. Throwing a pair of Heel’s over his shoulder, whacking Alastor in the back.

“Watch it.” “Bite me.” He smirked.

As he moved to throw the clothes into the trash, he froze as his hands brushed across something familiar.

“What’s this?” He murmured, tugging out the faded pale pink sweater. It was old– Really old, rhinestones carefully placed across the chest. Slightly frayed cuffs and a faint stain against its hem. But Angel’s eyes lit up like fireworks as he held the piece, the memory of it washing over him in waves, an excited gasp.

Alastor looking up from his own organizing, humming as his curiosity piqued. “What in Hell’s name have you unearthed now?”

“This!” Angel exclaimed with excitement, holding out the pale-pink sweater as if it were a trophy. “I used to fucking love this thing! I haven’t seen it in years, What the fuck is it doin’ all the way burried down here?”

Alastor approached, adjusting his monocle for dramatic effect as he tilted his head. “Hmm, judging by the state of it, I’d wager it was buried for a good reason. But pray tell, what’s so special compared to the thousands of over pink sweaters you have stored away in here?”

Angel huffed as if Alastor were stupid, pressing the sweater against his chest as he grinned. “I used to wear this thing all the time when I first got here! It’s so cozy! And cmon, babe. Look at it, It’s adorable!” He spun around as he held it, slipping it over his head with ease. 

It hung loosely on his frame, the faded pink contrasting perfectly against his fur. He smoothed the fabric over his torso, beaming with excitement. “How do I look?”

Alastor paused, his smile softening into something more genuine. “Ridiculous. But also… Rather endearing.”

“Ha! I knew it,” Angel said, striking a pose. Earning an eye roll from Alastor as they both returned to the task at hand, yet again having successfully both get distracted.

For the next half an hour, they fell into an easy rhythm. Angel sorted through the lower shelves of clutter while Alastor reorganised it, making more space for new junk that was bound to fill the small room within a month. 

They had a system, one which worked without issue.

At first, anyway.

But as the minutes ticked by, Angel began to sniffle, it was subtle to begin with. A small scrunch of the nose, rubbing at his face.

“Hh-hHH’kshh!”

“Bless you,” Alastor said absentmindedly, not even looking up from his task.

“Guh, Thanks,” Angel mumbled, rubbing at his nose with another sharp sniff. He assumed it was the dust– After all, they hadn’t cleaned this thing in fuck knows how long.

A bit of dust? Eh, something that came with the territory.

But then the sneezing started to come in fits.

It wasn’t fast at first, but now?

“hih’HH- Hh’TSSHHhh! ihHHT’KSHHH!” Angel doubled over, his body wracked breathless as he’d sneezed for the sixth time in the past minute. Clothes he’d once been holding now helplessly abandoned on the carpet.

“Goodness.” Alastor exclaimed, putting a hand on Angel’s back, “Are you quite alright?”

“Y-Yeah, yeah. I’m fine,” Angel managed between sneezed, breath hitching again almost immediately. “It’s just- hhHHih’kshhh! Hhih’KSshew!!” Gasping. “Fuck, it’s gotta just be the dust, probably.”

Alastor frowned unconvinced, a rare flicker of concern crossing his face. “That seems a bit extreme, even for you.”

But Angel only waved him off, watery eyes and pink nose betraying him. “It’s nothin’, just allergies… Or somethin’”

Alastors eyes trailed over him, watching as Angel rubbed his palm against his nose with a wince, faltering as his gaze drifted down to the sweater. A distant memory, almost as if he could recall something.

“Darling?” Already knowing the answer. “Is there any possibility you could be allergic to that?”

Angel froze, pausing mid-sniffle, blinking down at him, “Say, what?”

“The sweater,” Alastor said, pointing a jagged finger in angel’s chest, touching the clothing as if it were some cursed artifact. “I distinctly recall you wearing it during our first winter together. You declared it, ‘bad vibes’ and swore to never wear it again.”

“Aw, come on! That was, like, a hundred years ago! I thought I outgrew that or somethin. –” He broke off, another harsh sneeze shaking his frame.

“Bless you, you’re not wearing the sweater.”

“But—” Angel sniffled, looking down at it with despair. “But I like it! It’s comfy and… Hh.. Cute- And- Ah’nd.. Hh- hHHih’kSsHHEw!” He groaned, rubbing at his nose. “This sucks.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” Alastor said, moving his hands to the bottom of the offending item, in position. “Which is exactly why I’m taking it off.”

Angel gasped, bottom set of hands grabbing onto his as Alastor gently let go. “C'mon, Bambi! It’s not that bad… I’ll get used to it?”

“Get used to an allergy?” Alastor huffed, “Absolutely not. I won’t have you making yourself unwell over a piece of clothing, no matter how ‘cute’ it is.”

Angel pouted, his voice turning whiny. “But—” 

“No Buts,” Alastor interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Off with it, Darling.”

Reluctantly, Angel began to pull the sweater over his head, his movements slow and exaggerated like a child being forced to give up their favourite toy. Handing it to Alastor with a sigh of defeat.

“You’re such a buzzkill, y’know that? I freakin’ love this sweater.” 

“And yet, it seems the sentiment is not mutual,” Alastor said dryly, pulling out a handkerchief from his pocket and handing it to his sniffling spouse. “For the sake of your health, I think it’s best we retire it once more.”

Angel sniffled and blew his nose noisily, his pout visible even from behind the cloth. “You suck. Can’t I, like, just wear it sometimes? Maybe it won’t be so bad if I don’t have it on for too long.”

Alastor raised an eyebrow, “Are you truly willing to endure suffering and misery just for the sake of fashion?”

“Don’t I do that anyway…?”

“Angel.” He frowned.

“Just… You’re not gonna throw it out, right?” He frowned, looking up at him genuinely.

Alastors expression softened, gently brushing the hair out of Angel’s face, “Darling, I understand how much this means to you, but I’d prefer not to see you suffer. You still have plenty of other clothing that’s just as delightful and far less hazardous to your well-being.”

Angel looked down at the sweater in Alastor’s hands, then back up at him, pout deepening as his shoulders slumped. “I guess, but It’s not the same. This one’s special, y’know?”

Alastor’s smile returned, warmer and more genuine. “And That's precisely why we’ll keep it. Perhaps not as daily wear, but as a cherished keepsake. Something to remind you of the fond memories it holds.”

Angel considered it as his fingers brushed against the soft fabric, nodding with a sigh, finally smirking. “Yeah… I guess that works. Doesn’t mean I can’t sneak it on once in a while, though.” 

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.” Alastor huffed with a chuckle, folding it neatly in his arms as he placed it aside. “Now how about I make us some tea while you finish recovering? Cleaning can wait.”

Angel smirked, leaning his head against Alastor’s shoulder. “Tea sounds good. But don’t think I’m lettin’ you off the hook for dinner, Babe.”

Alastor laughed, the sound filling the room like a melody. “Perish the thought, My Dear. I wouldn’t dare.”

As they disappeared into the kitchen, the pink sweater remained on the dresser. Forgotten and unworn.

For now.

[snzysceneslut]

Some more radio//dust. Specifically caretaking for each other:

Caretaker!Alastor:

Angel’s sick. Shit fuck shit fuck shit fuck shit fuck-!! Alastor always DREADS Angel being sick. Despite how much he cares about his boyfrenemy, he knows that Angel will moan and groan and complain the entire damn time. It’ too hot. It’s too cold. His head hurts. His throat hurts. He can’t breathe through his nose. It’s too cold again.

Another thing to look forward to is Angel being clingy. Oh how Alastor HATES being overly affectionate. Angel generally tries to get him to soften up a bit but when he’s sick? Oh no. Oh no no no no. Angel will DEMAND cuddles. No ifs ands or buts.

Angel is a pretty picky eater to begin with. Being sick doesn’t help at all. He’ll either refuse to eat or only eat popsicles and drink vodka, to which Alastor has to use every ounce of strength in his body not to hit him over the head with the bottle.

Trying to give him medicine is a complete disaster. As previously mentioned, Alastor will restrain you to the bed with his black tendrils while prying your mouth open. Angel of course makes some sort of bondage and or tentacle porn joke which only results in him getting Alastor’s entire hand down his throat.

Alastor is willing to dote on him, but not without being a cheeky prick.

“Oh, well would you look at that. It’s 5:30. I suppose it’s dinner time for the piggy.”

*takes fat nuggets out of angels arms and walks away*

“Wh- mother fucker get back here!!”

“No no, don’t you worry. Stay in bed and rest. I’ll take care of him.”

“Son of a bitch get back here with my emotional support pig!!”

Caretaker!Angel:

Alastor would rather be caught on the wrong end of an exorcist blade than admit to being sick. He’s become quite accustomed to hiding his symptoms. He’s gotten quite good at it. But he can’t pull a fast one on Angel Dust, oh no no no.

Angel knows many of the tell tale signs of Alastor getting sick. If he’s being particularly quiet and running his mouth less than he usually does. His broadcasts may not be as long as they usually are. And the most telling of all: he’ll willingly let Angel touch him.

Alastor will generally refuse any medicine you offer to give him. Angel knows DAMN well not to push his luck. It’s hard enough getting Alastor in bed let alone getting him to stay put.

Alastor won’t generally complain too much. He finds no use in doing so. It won’t change anything. Besides, he’d rather die than admit to wanting help.

As previously stated, Alastor is a bit more affectionate when he’s sick. It’s not that he enjoys it, but more that he’s a bit out of it and doesn’t bother to try and push Angel away. Meanwhile Angel is holding, cuddling, kissing, sweet taking him. That and also he lets Angel get his way so he’ll shut up.

“Aww, you feelin’ alright there, Antlers?”

“I am quite ok, thank you.”

“You sure you don’t want me to hold you? Tuck you in and make you feel special?”

“…*sigh* If I let you will you be quiet?”

“*kiss* Nah, you know me. Just admit, you love hearing me yap. Lettin’ my sweet gentle voice lull you to sleep. *pokes his face*”

“*warning growl*”

“Ok! Ok. Heard ‘ya loud ‘n clear.”

[hehkshew]

OMFG OMFGOMFGOMFG HOW DID I MISS THIS?

I ADORE THIS SO MUCH THIS IS INCREDIBLE! i love how you wrote them these are absolutely adorable omg pls THANK YOU

[prokopetz]

The author's poorly disguised fetish

The author's proudly displayed fetish

The author's fetish you're pretty sure they don't realise they have

The author's fetish which they're firmly convinced everyone has and is just pretending otherwise

The author's non-sexual special interest which just sounds like a fetish because of their habitually unfortunate phrasing

The fetish the author is making a well-meaning effort to cater to in spite of clearly not understanding it themselves

The author's fetish that never quite makes it into the text because they keep getting sidetracked by the requisite worldbuilding

The author's utterly pedestrian sexual preference which the text treats like a bizarre fetish because they've got shit to work through

The author's seemingly innocuous recurring trope they're going to have a personal revelation about ten years down the road

The author's fetish you missed on a first reading because it's so far out of pocket, it never occurred to you that you could sexualise that

[oh-no-my-hand-slipped]

Tag yourself — I’m 7.

[hehkshew]

It’s 5 😭 Not a fetish! Just a tragically unfortunate special interest I just really enjoy writing and drawing

[hehkshew]

I’ve made a decision:

For any anon u get that mentions not liking RadioDust content, I’m writing another RadioDust fic- so expect another one soon lol

you are THE BEST ever

[hehkshew]

Hey, u have an AO3

I'm not too familiar with posting to there but I will definitely try and figure it out if people are interested!

[hehkshew]

can you rewrite ur r/d fics with radio/apple plz

Ah I wrote them with Radio/Dust because I like Radio/Dust! I don't want to just replace Angel in my fic with another character, sorry. :(

[snzysimper]

Merry Christmas All!!

I’ve wanted to write a Radio/dust fic for a while but never had any good ideas. Thankfully some anon hate given to @hehkshew was just the creative spark I needed!!

Merry Christmas friend. Together we can keep Radio/dust from dying!!

Haters gonna hate

1400 words

| I am allowed to write what I want and would appreciate you keeping whatever rude comments you have to yourself |

Angel Dust and Alastor. Not two names you often hear in the same sentence together. At least, not in a positive way. Most of the time the two are seen going at it with each other. Angel makes some sort of sexual comment and Alastor says something smart back. Angel always has to have the last word which leads to it dragging on for quite some time.

This of course is in the presence of others. Behind closed doors things are much less…hostile. Their relationship is a bit complicated. They are dating but are more of each other's “boyfrienemys”. In the end there aren't any hard feelings.

Not everyone is quite so fond of their “special” friendship. Charlie was ecstatic to hear that the two were getting along. Vaggie on the other hand, while supportive, was mildly annoyed that two of her least favorite people in the hotel could now team up to drive her insane. Husk was indifferent, Nifty didn’t really care and Sir Pentious…well, he was dead. But that’s not important. This isn’t about him.

“The fuck do ya want Al?” Angel is met by his antlered friend outside of the porn studio. The deer flashes his usual smile. “I was sent by our lovely princess to come and retrieve you.. Is that such a problem?”

Angel rolls his eyes. “I don't need a personal escort just ‘ta come back from work.” Nonetheless, the spider follows behind his partner.

On the walk back, the two make casual conversation. The two almost seem to be enjoying each other's company. “Don’t touch me.” Alastor glares at his companion. Angel Dust playfully pokes his cheek. “Aww, don’t be like that Al.”

“Why can’t you learn to keep your hands to yourself?”

“Oh, trust me. People pay the big bucks for me to put my hands all over ‘em.”

“Repulsive.”

Angel makes a kissy face. “C’mon baby, lighten up.” Alastor growls. “I suggest you remove your hand if you wish to keep it.” The spider proceeds to ruffle the other’s hair. “Be honest, y’know you’d never do that ta lil ol me.” Alastor rolls his eyes. “You’re lucky I care about you,” he says in hardly a whisper. Angel mocks the deers radio voice. “You’ve heard it here first folks, the Radio Demon has a heart after all!!”

Alastor wouldn’t be caught dead saying the ‘l-o-v-e’ word, let alone in the presence of others. “Shut up.” Perhaps they aren’t both enjoying each other's company after all.

The clouds turn dark and cover the sky. A light drizzle becomes a downpour within a matter of seconds. “Ugh, shit.” Angel turns to notice that his “personal chauffeur” is nowhere to be found. He stands in the rain briefly, looking around in every direction. “Al?” He soon finds him under an overhang. That cheeky bastard. “Oh, yeah. Don’t bother takin’ me with ‘ya.” The spider hurries over to the deer.

“Thanks asshole.” The deer laughs. “You’re welcome my dear.” Angel groans. “I fuckin’ hate you.” The deer sustained minimal damage from the rain, meanwhile Angel is drenched. He does his best to shake some of the excess water off of his fur. “Watch it,” Alastor puts his arm up to shield himself from the flying water droplets.

It doesn’t take long before other sinners join them underneath the overhang, seeking shelter. “It appears we may be stuck here for a bit.” Alastor looks up at the dark, cloudy sky.

Angel can’t help but endlessly complain. “I fuckin’ hate this. I’m cold, wet and exhausted. I worked all damn day. I just wanna crash in my room and not wake up till tomorrow.” As he keeps complaining, Alastor gives the occasional “Mhm” to assure his partner that he is listening and offering moral support.

“Perhaps if you didn’t wear such little clothing and covered up a bit more you wouldn’t be in this predicament.” Angel raises his fist. “Why I outta-!!” The deer closes one eye, the other’s cornea turning black. “I wouldn’t try that if I were you.” Angel groans. “Oh fuck you.”

Angel suddenly turns to his boyfriend, almost in a fit of rage. “Wait, can’t you just use your voodoo magic shit to teleport us back?” Alastor grimaces. “I’d rather not risk overshooting seeing as the hotel is quite the distance away. Especially in the rain.”

“Besides, I’d rather the two of us not be seen so closely together,” Alastor quietly hisses at Angel. Angel crosses his arms. “You and ‘ya damn ego. Are you really that ashamed of being seen with me?” The deer looks around before leaning towards his companion. “Not specifically you, although it certainly doesn’t help considering your…profession.”

“Oh, fuck off.” Angel shivers, wrapping his arms around himself. “Fuck it’s cold. How much longer we gotta wait here?”

As Angel continues complaining, he suddenly inhales sharply, his head leaning back slightly before jerking forward and bending at the waist as he sneezes. “hH’EhT-kKT’shUH!! ” He groans as he rubs his face. “Motha’ fuck’a, I swear to god if I’m gettin’ sick I’m gonna fuckin-hHI’ETDd-Zziew!! Ugh, fuck.” Alastor remains silent, seemingly ignoring Angel’s struggles and misery.

Alastor pulls a handkerchief from his coat pocket. “I would appreciate you keeping your germs to yourself.” Angel laughs, accepting the handkerchief. “Aww, you worried bout me antlers?” The deer growls, a warning for him not to push his luck.

Angel takes a step back. “Ok ok, calm down. Geez.” The two sinners seem to be particularly enjoying themselves. “Looks like the porn star finally found someone who thinks he’s worthwhile.”

Angel rolls his eyes, sniffling. It’s hard for him to roam the streets unrecognized. If he’s not being cat called then he’s being thrown a derogatory comment. “Assholes,” he mutters to himself. Considering his job in the porn industry, he’s used to people only caring about him for sexual benefits. Thankfully enough Alastor couldn’t care less about using Angel for sex.

Alastor can’t help but notice Angel’s mild change in demeanor. “Just ignore them, dear. They can’t hurt you if you don’t let them.” He remains facing forward, not making eye contact with Angel or the other sinners.

“Aww, how cute. Is the big bad radio demon trying to make you feel better? Can’t even stand up for himself. No wonder he’s the sub.”

Alastor’s eyebrows furrow slightly. He generally wouldn’t give it a second thought but something about seeing Angel’s face hearing the insults makes him mildly annoyed. “I’d refrain from antagonizing him if I were you. It’d be a shame if it were to escalate unnecessarily.”

“Al, don’t. It’s fine. I’m used to it anyway.” Angel doesn’t sound so much hurt or offended as he does pissed off. This only fuels the fire.

“Yep! Keep telling yourself that! You can’t really think that Alastor of all people would give two shits about you. If you can’t keep an average sinner around, what makes you think you can win yourself an overlord?”

As if almost natural instinct, Alastor casually empales both sinners with a black tendril. They are flung off to lord knows where.

“Oh, damn. Uh,” Angel watches in awe. He’s not quite sure whether to feel touched or terrified. Either way, he blushes, smiling. “Thanks for that, smiles.” Alastor sighs. The two are now alone under the overhang.

“Don’t let them get to you. They know nothing about you or who you really are.” Alastor looks almost embarrassed as he says this. Angel laughs. “Wow, you’re bein’ bold today, ain’t ya? Complimenting me out in public. Damn, maybe you really do have a heart after all…hH’EKk-DdsHIE’uUh!!”

Angel sniffles as he rubs his face again, this time with the provided handkerchief. Alastor sighs. “Come on,” he removes his coat and drapes it over Angel so it acts as an umbrella. “The sooner we get back, the sooner you can dry off.”

The spider laughs. “Aww, you sure are bein sweet to me. You sure you didn’t fall an’ hit your head…II’Hh-GgsSh’EUGH!!” He grimaces, clearing his throat quietly. “Ow…”

Alastor begins walking. “I assure you my love, I am quite alright. You on the other hand won’t be if you are out here much longer.”

Alastor promptly takes Angel by the arm and continues down the sidewalk. Angel blushes. This is about the closest they’ve gotten to holding hands in public. And probably the closest they’ll get for a while.

Angel sighs, smiling. “Thanks Al.”

“You’re welcome, Angel.”

[hehkshew]

I HAVE SO MANY THINGS TO SAY ABOUT THIS, FIRST OF ALL THANK YOU SO MUCH THIS IS THE GREATEST CHRISTMAS SURPRISE EVER AND THIS WHOLE ENTIRE FICWAS ABSOLUTELY INCREDIBLE? SECONDLY I ADORE HOW YOU WROTE THEM BOTH AND YOU DID THEM SO WELL AND HOW THEY INTERACTED WAS SO SWEET. A/LASTOR GIVING A/NGEL HIS COAT AND TELLING HIM NOT TO LISTEN TO THE OTHER DEMONS WAS SO INSANELY ADORABLE AND THIS IS MY FAVOURITE FIC IVE EVER READ 😭 THANK YOU!!!! EVERYONE PLEASE READ THIS, THIS IS ADORABLE

[hehkshew]

Too Tipsy To Top (H/azbin H/otel) A/ngel D/ust x A/lastor [1800 Words]

Just a wholesome little word dump of fluff where A/ngel and A/lastor getting back after a heavy night of drinking. A/ngel's struggling to take off his makeup and A/lastor does his begrudging duty to help take it off, but things get a little messy.

The night had certainly been eventful. Hours after hours of constant drinking, far too many tumbles and just enough confrontations for the two to finally call it in for a night.

Angel stumbling as Alastor helpfully pushed open the door to their room, his Darling spider giggling like a maniac. Each step unsteady as a toddlers as Alastor followed closely behind. It has certainly been tiring, and had no better plans in mind than to head to bed.

But first, he had to deal with this whole situation. Shrugging his shoulders as he started to slip off his coat, sloppily draping it over the back of Angels overly-dramatic pink chair. Angel not even taking off his boots as he flopped onto their bed.

Alastor rolling his eyes as he yanked Angel’s leg, using one hand as he pulled one of the boots off, Angel using what little coordination he had to kick the other one off. The unfortunate result of far too many drinks with far too little time to breathe in between.

Angels makeup now utterly smudged from tears, laughter and sweat and definitely the unhelpfulness of rubbing at his face all night. What was once almost perfect a mere few hours ago, now ruined beyond unfixability.

No amount of setting powders would’ve been enough to preserve it. But now, it was time for bed, so his makeup didn’t need fixing. What it needed, was removal.

As Alastor watched Angel fumble for his phone three times and eventually end up dropping it, Alastor realised that he would in-fact, likely be the one to initiate in its removal.

Sighing as he loomed over his darling husband, glancing down at him exasperatedly. Both hands on his hip in mock judgment, “My Dear,” He began, not failing to hide the amusement in his tone. A slight grin as he tilted his head down. “You’ve truly outdone yourself this time.”

Angel only snickered at that, rolling onto his back so he could gazedly stare at Alastor, “Cmonnnn, Babe! Stop being such a… Such a buzzkill.” He huffed, as if he’d been being bugged all night. (He hadn’t.)

“You need to learn to uh… Y’know, live a little! Or uh…” Humming in thought as he tried to think of the Hell equivalent. “Or maybe die a little…?” Amusedly rolling on the bed once again, nearly falling off as Alastor leaned forward to gently push him back.

“Outstanding.” Angel pretending to ignore the teasing glare he was receiving.

Angel sniffled, rubbing at his face again, something he’d been doing all night. “Aww, c’mon, don’t be mad at me Bambi… You’re just envious because I’m prettier than you when I’m all hammered.”

Alastor huffed again, reaching over to Angel’s vanity table as he grabbed one of his wet-wipes, “I’m not envious of you, and sure as Hell not of the bottle of champagne you demolished, but I certainly do pity it.”

Angel grinned sleepily, his expression changing as he faltered with a sniffle, blinking blankly as his nose scrunched, mouth opening as he sniffled.

“Angel–”

“Hh’Hihkshew! Hihhkpkshew!”

Sneezing twice as he directed it at his chest, a wet sniffle after with a muffled groan.

“Goodness, bless you.” Alastor muttered, leaning back a smidge from the spray zone as he adjusted his position seated on the bed, leaning closer as he started to run the wet-wipe under Angel’s eyes, starting on the running mascara. “If you’re going to be doing that please at least cover your mouth.”

Angel gave a light snicker, sniffling again as he tilted his head back so that Alastor could wipe at his face better. His face covered with a drunken flush, red spreading across his cheeks. “Cmon, you don’t gotta be such a germaphobe. Ain’t nothing I’ve ever got you ain’t caught before.”

“Yes, yes. I’m aware, sickness and in health. But you aren’t sick, just temporarily… Intoxicated. Anywho, that’s hardly besides the point. It’s the principal of the matter.”

“Principal of the what now?” Angel mumbled, sniffling again as he leaned back fully, flopping back into the pillows. Alastor giving a huff as he grabbed Angels collar to pull him back up again.

“Quit leaning back, I’m trying to help you. At least let me take your makeup off before you pass out.”

Angel snorted, half-assedly leaning into Alastor as he sat up, head dropping down as he got it tilted up again, muttering into his chest. “You’re so mean to me.”

“Truely.” Sarcasm dripping.

Angel silent once again as he sniffled, blinking dazedly.  “Hhhh..”

“Angel.” Alastor warned again, wiping at Angel’s face.

“Shhh.” He whispered, raising a finger as he pressed it against Alastor’s lips, “Shhh, I’m fine.” He mumbled, licking his lips as he leaned back,pressing his palm up against his nose as he sniffled. “hih’ksSHhh!”

This time giving no time to react as he jerked his head forward, successfully spraying Alastors hand. 

“Ah-!” Alastor pulled back again, unsprayed hand against Angel’s chest to keep him upright, “Darling, cover your mouth.” He warned.

“Whoops… Sorry babe.” He snickered, hiccuping mid laugh as his eyes blinked watery. “Y’know… You’re so- Cute when you’re mad.”

Alastor gritted his teeth as he kept up the time, “You really do intend to just keep on testing my patience tonight, don’t you?” Running his thumb under Angel’s eyes, a gentle claw scratching off one of the particularly stubborn lumps of dried mascara. “Now hold still, if that’s something you’re still able to manage.”

He got a response in the form of a half-assed hum, grinning like a fool, “You’re so bossy, that’s why I married you.”

“Funny, I thought we married purely for the tax benefits?”

Alastor silently pouted, Alastor continuing amusedly, “I’d feel more pity if it weren’t for the fact you decided to spend tonight drowning yourself in alcohol. I shouldn’t have to be doing this, you know.”

“But then I wouldn’t get a cute deer taking care of me.”

“You’re not dying.”

Angel didn’t respond, glossy look in his eyes.

Alastor froze, squinting as he muttered. 

“Don’t you dare.”

“Hhh… Hhh…” Angel breathed, Alastor leaning back in precaution.

But nothing came. Angel slumping as he leaned his head further against Alastor’s chest, pressing against it. Alastor sighing as he tilted Angel’s head up so that he would look at him.

“All good?”

Angelnodding tiredly, Alastor humming in amusement as he got back to work. Reaching over as he grabbed a second wet wipe, the previous one having served its purpose. Gently running it over Angel’s eyelids, making him close his eyes, slightly twitching under his touch.

“You’re impossible.” He muttered, the unmissable hint of fondness clear in his tone.

Angel wheezing with small laughter as he sloppily gave an attempt at kissing Alastor’s cheek, one which Alastor leaned back from. “Love you…” He mumbled, “Even though you sound like you wanna kill me…”

Alastor barked a laugh at that, tucking a stubborn piece of Angel’s hair out of the way as he hummed, “And I suppose I tolerate you too, even if you’re being insufferable.” Reaching into his pocket as he grabbed for a handkerchief, “Blow.”

Angel sniffled as he obediently did so, sniffling afterwards as he drowsily grinned up at his husband. “Thaaaanks baby, you’re so good to me.” He slurred.

“Don’t mistake my tolerance for sweetness.” He replied dryly, his touch keeping gentle as he continued at working to remove the stubborn makeup. “Really, what on earth possess you to put this much on your face that it takes this much effort to get off?” He was mostly talking to himself at this point, “Surely you can’t do this even when you’re sober.”

Angel yawned sleepily as he blinked almost frog-eyed, huffing, “You know, you’re a real softie under all that spooky bastardness. Don’t think I don’t know it.”

“Oh, now is that so?” He mused.

“Yup!” He grinned toothily, poking at Alastor’s nose with his glove, who in return took ahold of his arm, pulling his silk glove off, doing the same with the other, “You’re a big ol’ buck who loves taking care of his stupid husband, admit it.”

Alastor chuckled lowly, “I’ll admit no such thing. Now close those pretty eyes of yours and sleep.”

“Rude,” Angel pouted, flopping backwards again as Alastor grabbed his collar, holding him up like a stray dog, giggling. “Wait you think ‘m pretty?” Alastor ignoring the question, working on keeping him alive in silence.

Angel hitching and before Alastor could react—-

“Hheh’ktshew!, Hhknkshh!”

“Angel!” Alastor snapped, letting go of Angel’s collar immediately as the spider dropped back onto the pillows, Alastor grimacing as he wiped a hand against his face, feeling how it was now damp from the unfortunate misfire.

But oh, Angel was in hysterics, drunkenly snickering so hard he had tears dripping down his face. Tears that would’ve no doubt made his mascara drip if Alastor hadn’t intervened in removing it. Cackling amusedly as his eyes watered.

“I’ve warned you enough times.” Alastor huffed, grabbing the pillow besides Angel’s head, holding it up as if he were about to smother him. Angel shrieking as he pulled back drunkenly, squirming away as he curled into himself tighter. Messily blocking his head as Alastor swung the pillow down hard. 

“Collateral Damage, babe!”

Shrieking again with a squeal of giggles as Alastor hit him again in the face with the pillow again, kicking shakily at his failed attempts to block it, stammering through the laughter.

“I’m sorry! I’m s-sorry! I swear.. Hh.. I didn’t-... Hhh…” Giggling as he sniffed, “I didn’t mean to.. to-”

Alastor quickly having learned, slamming the pillow in front of Angel’s face just in time.

“Hhh’hHHKSHhhh!”

“There,” Alastor said, removing the pillow from Angel’s face with a satisfied hum, “Crisis averted.”

Angel blinking up at him, sniffling with an annoyed eye-roll, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand. “You’re so extra.”

“Perhaps, but don’t deny that you adore it.”

Angel crossing his arms with a sleepy grin Alastor gently lowering Angel down so that he was nuzzled against the unnecessary amount of pillows on the bed.

Angel weakly grabbing at Angel’s shirt, pulling him down so that he could lay next to him, eyes glazed as they were full of adoration.

“You’re my favourite, y’know that?”

Alastors grin softened, gently leaning as he pressed a kiss against Angel’s forehead, “And you my Dear, are my greatest challenge.”

“You love it.”

“Perhaps I do.” He admitted, head rested against Angels.

The room growing quieter, softer.

Quietly speaking as he muttered, “And you’re the most infuriatingly wonderful thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Angel’s eyes long fluttered shut, his breathing evening out as he’d finally drifted off. Alastor sighing in relief as he pulled the blanket over him, tucking him in carefully.

Alastor allowed himself to enjoy the silence, stroking Angel’s hair with careful fingers. “Sleep well, my dear,” He murdered.

Angel snored softly in response, and the night was perfect.

[hehkshew]

The Touch of Death (H/azbin H/otel) A/ngel D/ust x A/lastor [1600 Words]

[This one was a lovely prompt sent to me by @itsallsternutation ! This was so much fun to write and I hope you enjoy it!] A/ngel unfortunately ends up getting sick and A/lastor is not the greatest at dealing with situations like this. He still tries his best, even if it's not that great.

When Alastor usually awoke in the mornings, he was immediately filled with motivation, to be in the mood for constant Chaos in Charlie's silly little Hotel. Messing around with stupid antics and mind games enough to drive anyone in Hell mad. 

He had his routines, to wake up earlier than everyone else. Be able to spend some time unbothered by the resting world and get ready.

And he was always the first one awake.

Except now this time, he wasn’t.

How he was able to tell that? He’d gotten prepared as he felt he should, still in his sleepwear but presentable enough on the odd chance he did encounter another sinner.

The second he stepped out from his bedroom out towards the hallway, he felt the difference in the air immediately. As if the entire energy of the Hotel had suddenly changed.

But there was a difference in the air, blinking as he was greeted by the unmistakable scent of freshly made coffee. Mixed in with a strong menthol smell, almost overpowering. Narrowing his eyes as he tightened his dressing gown belt up tighter, moving himself to go investigate.

As he stepped down the far too many stairs, he felt a twinge of relief at the emptiness, he certainly couldn’t see anyone here. He still kept guarded regardless, just as a precaution. 

He’d moved to the living room, seemingly the source of the smell by judging how strong it was. Almost letting out a gasp at the scene displayed in front of him.

The living room was demolished.

Figuratively of course, but the room looked a wreck.

Strewn across the velvety couches were dozens of crumpled tissues, half-harradly thrown across as if whoever had used them had no energy to make any effort at aiming towards a bin.

The table littered with various bottles and cups. Alastor hesitating as he picked it up, holding it at a distance but close enough to be able to read the letters. A brown bottle of cold-medicine. Half empty as if it had been shotgunned like a drink. Guanty bold letters displayed on the front, ‘INSTANT RELIEF!’

“What in Hell’s name…?” Alastor muttered, taking a cautious step back, pausing immediately as he felt something wet soak against his exposed heel from his slippers. A grimace, “Ugh-” as he stepped back from the offending object, trying ever so hard to forget what that wetness might be from.

Alastor wasn’t a germaphobe.

Not by a long shot, he wasn’t afraid of something as simple as germs!

Yet did he wince every time someone started to sniffle a little too close to him? Leaving the room the moment someone had even the slightest of mentions of feeling nauseous? Washing his hands every time he touched anything in the Hotel after finding out one of the members were sick?

…That was perfectly reasonable!

Regardless, he pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh as the implications began to become far more clear. “Wonderful… Tissues… And cold medicine…”

His voice trailing off as his ear started to flicker, hearing the sound of the door creaking. Turning to it as his eyes focused on the bathroom door. He glanced back at  the mess around him with half a mind to burn down the whole room when he heard it. A harsh wet sound echoing loudly from the room.

‘...Hh’ihh.. Hh- hHHihH’KSHHH!’

The noise was unmistakably identifiable, and so was the voice.

“Oh no…” Alastor muttered to himself, realisation slamming into him at full force, already gathering the implications of someone being unwell. But his partner?

This was worse than he thought.

He now had to face two equally horrifying fates.

Either abandoning his delicately crafted morning plans to retreat away from this whole forming mess, or face the infectious chaos that would await him if he stayed here any longer.

Surely Angel would be fine, he didn’t need Alastor! He was tough enough to handle himself. 

Alastor could just vanish and everything would be okay, he just needed to-

‘Hih’KSHHhh!!’ 

Another harsh sneezed followed by a muffled groan, sounding fully pitiful. He faltered, feeling stirring with something… Unexpected for the situation.

Annoyance warred with concern, and what was worse? Concern was winning.

He sighed, already regretting the decision he knew he’d already made.

As he tentatively creeped closer to the bathroom door, he kept his footsteps light, as if it would keep everything else quiet. “Darling?” He called softly, tone dampered with caution, “What on earth is going on in there?”

The door creaked open just enough for Alastor to take in the pitiful sight. Angel Dust, wrapped in one of Alastor’s oversized red robes, one he’d have to burn later. Sat on the floor, knees to his chest as he sniffled, a box of tissues sitting besides him. Almost fully empty as a few were littered around the tiles.

His fur ruffled and matted, a slight dampness to it of sweat. Alastor not needing to be an idiot to miss how clear it was Angel had a fever. Yet his cheeks were flushed, from whether sickness or embarrassment, Alastor couldn’t immediately tell.

“Oh, hey Babe.” Angel croaked, his voice barely recognizable beneath the layers of congestion dampering it, he sniffled loudly as he wiped at his nose with the back of his hand, “Don’t mind me, just dyin’ a little. No biggie”

Alastor recoiling instinctively, holding onto the doorframe so he wouldn’t force himself to leave. Messing with the lapel of his gown as if the fabric would shield him from the miasma of illness lingering. “I take it you’re unwell?” He asked, though the answer was glaringly obvious.

Angel snorted, though his breath hitched as he ducked his head down to sneeze again, “Mm, what tipped ya off? Me sneezin’ louder than a gunshot or the fact I’m lookin’ like something you’d drag in after a hunt?”

Alastor wrinkled his nose, not pleased with the confirmation he’d asked for. “Bless you…” A part of his mind screaming at him to retreat. But as he looked closer at Angel, slumped and curled up looking utterly miserable on the bathroom floor, he felt  a twinge of regret.

He’d never really seen Angel like this, and it was a little frightening.

He wanted to leave but he didn’t want to leave Angel.

He needed to take responsibility.

“Well,” Alastor began, carefully picking how he chose his words, “I can’t say that I’m exactly thrilled about this turn of events. But…” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with a huff, “If you’re going to wallow in illness, could you perhaps do so without leaving your… Remains all over my furniture?”

Angel’s lips twitched into a weak smirk, “Aw, c’mon, you ain’t mad, are ya? Can’t help that I’m all snotty and dying.”

Alastor opened his mouth to retort how Angel was very much still alive, but faltered as Angel let out a weak cough. It sounded sickening, not in a way that revolted him, though it did have a good effect at doing that. But it sounded in a way that made him feel far more sympathetic.

He closed his mouth as he knelt down carefully, almost hesitant as if he were approach something rabid. Deciding to just go for it as he placed a firm hand on Angel’s shoulder, squeezing it as he rubbed at it slightly.

“I’m not mad at you for being unwell.” Alastor said at last, softened. “But, I am concerned. You do honestly look absolutely dreadful.”

“Gee, thanks.” Angel muttered sarcastically, tone lacking his usual bite.

Alastor’s mind raced, on one hand now that they’d had this little talk, he wanted to now leave and put as much space between them as possible until this little illness went away. But on the other hand, he would be a rather shitty partner if he were to just leave Angel like this. Not when he was clearly suffering.

“Stay right here,” Alastor instructed, rising to his feet. “I’m… going to handle this.”

Angel blinked up at him with a sniffled, squinting his exhausted eyes skeptically, “Handle what? You ain’t planning to lock me in a room to quarantine me, are ya?”

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous.” Alastor snapped, a little called out that Angel had so quickly guessed the thoughts in his mind. “I’m going to fetch you some proper supplies. Because clearly you seem incapable of taking care of yourself in this state.” 

Before Angel could respond, Alastor disappeared into the kitchen. Leaving him alone. A few minutes of silence before his favourite Deer had returned to the bathroom, a tray precariously balanced in his hands. “Since you seem keen on making this the room you’ll infect, I’ve brought remedies.”

Angel stared at the tray with a sniffle, expression unreadable. “So, what’s all this?”

The tray being meticulously balanced with an array of items. A steaming mug of tea, a small dish of honey, and what only looked to be more medication and a scarf.

“Provisions,” Alastor grinning,  matter-of-factly, setting the tray down on the bathroom counter as he grabbed the scarf, wrapping it around Angel's neck despite the two being indoors.

He adjusted, grabbing the cup of tea as he carefully helped it into Angels shaking hands. “And some tea may help your throat, it wouldn’t be nice of you to die on me, Darling.” He hummed. 

“Of course.” Angel hummed, grinning exhaustedly. “You’re such a weirdo, y’know that?”

“Thank you,” Alastor replied with a small smile, another firm hand on Angel’s shoulder as distant reassurance. “Now,” He stood. “Drink up, and for Lucifer’s sake, stop leaving tissues everywhere. You’ll attract pests.” Leaving Angel with his supplies.

Angel chuckled, his laugh turning into a cough as he smiled warmly beneath the scarf wrapped around him. Because despite Alastor's distance? He knew he cared.

[hehkshew]

Bro I’m already in the process of making a RadioDust snzfic. It was influenced by the one anon saying that they didn’t like the ship.

Take it as a Merry Christmas XXD

AHH AWESOME! I WILL READ THE HELL OUT OF IT! 😭