Angel Dust X Gn Reader - Tumblr Posts

Angel dust x cook!Reader

Reader’s pronouns: you/yours (implied reader uses he/him)

Tw: description of injury, allusions to workplace a***e angst angst and more angst babyyyyyyy

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You could hear your beloved Anthony burst through the doors of the hotel, loudly complaining. He had all the reason too, considering his work environment. You walk up to him, placing a hand on one of his top two arms. “Angie?” You say, tenderly. “Do you want to talk?” He pulls his arm away and slumps over at husk’s bar. “No.” He tells you, plainly. You nod, looking down and to the side. “Well…I’m here if you do.” You know just the way to cheer him up. Food. Lucky for him, your specialty is Italian food. You make your way to the kitchen and about a half hour later you come back to a vacant bar, penne alla vodka in hand. You make your way up to angel’s room. You use your free hand to know on his door to be met with “fuck off.” “It’s me, tony. I made you dinner.” He opens the door and you see him in all his glory. Mascara and eyeliner running down his face, a black eye and a bruises running down his face and neck. He is wearing a blanket on his head and wrapping it around head and shoulders. He takes the bowl of pasta with his bottom two arms and gives you a small smile. “Can I come in, darlin’”? He takes a breath and adjusts his hair with one of his top two arms.“Why~? Ya miss me~?” You look at him blankly. “I don’t have to be angel dust right now, just Anthony.” He looks a mix of offended and nervous, though you can’t quite tell. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He hands the bowl back to you. “I don’t need your pitty or your food.” He shoves you and the food spills on the ground. He then slams the door and, little did you know, he slides down with the back of his head against the door. “Why did I do that?” He asks himself. You will get to him eventually.

Right?

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A/N: hii! I hope you liked it, this is my first hazbin fic:) if you see any problems please comment! Constructive criticism is encouraged!!!

Angel dust x cook reader

Readers pronouns: you/ yours (but really he/him)

Could potentially be seen as a part two to the last “angel x cook reader” I made but you don’t need to read it to understand this one.

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It’s angel’s birthday. Of course people are making a big deal out of it, he’s like hells version of the Kardashians. Lots of flowers, cards and creepy jars filled with unidentifiable substances. Charlie bought him a new outfit, husk took him out on the town, and alastor…have you met the guy? Seriously, you expected him to get something for angel? A hardy “HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MY EFFEMINATE FELLOW” will do just fine, thank you. You decided to make him a cake. Nothing too fancy, granted he doesn’t really have all that much of a sweet tooth. Chocolate cake with pink frosting, and in white it says “happy birthday Tony” on the top. You put a fondant bow on it to make it look more…angel. He walks through the door, tipsy. “Oh, angel perfect timing!” You turn to him, smiling. “Whaaat? You starten’ ta miss me, handsome?” He giggles, finding it amusing how he towers over you. “Well yes but- uh- THATS BESIDES THE POINT.” You interrupt yourself, trying not to seem as nervous as you are. You wernt nervous about angel, or him liking the cake. You were nervous about the fact you wrote “Tony” instead of “angel” or “angel dust”. How would he react? Would he cry? Would it be happy or angry? Or sad? “I uh…I made you a cake!” Damnit. Stop stammering. This wasn’t like you at all! Your like some main character of a self instead fan-fiction or something! ‘I- uh- I-i-‘ SPIT IT THE FUCK OUT MY DUDE. Angel hugs you, shoving your face in his floof. “Thank you so much! Where is it? I want cake!” He makes grabby hands with his bottom two arms. You let out a muffled “can you let me go?”, your arms dangling at your sides. “Ohhh yeah sorry~” he slurs out, letting go of you. You exit the main lobby to retrieve the cake, holding the plate it’s on firmly with both hands. “Well, here it is! Uh…happy birthday.” You hand him the cake. For about a minute he just looks at it. ‘Happy birthday, Tony.’ Not angel dust, Tony. Anthony looks up at you, tearing up a little. Not just because he’s drunk either, but because he’s thankful. You MADE him something, for fucks sake. With HIS name on it. Not his stage name, his NAME. “Are you alright-?” He wipes a tear with one of his hands. “Yeah, I’m alright.”

Happy birthday, Anthony

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A/N: it’s angel’s birthdayyyyy>_< I’m so normal about him. As usual, constructive criticism is encouraged(my reqs are open;])

Art based on my chef! Reader x angel dust “series” I tied to make reader ambiguous as possible but it is based on my appearance lol (sorry if I spelled something wrong lol)

Yoo i just read your angel dust x reader in the 40s and it was great! If you ever need to write something in italian i'll gladly translate it for you (i am italian)

Btw are your requests open? If so then can i ask for a sort-of follow up to your aforementioned post? Reader goes to hell after getting shot by angel's dad, some years pass and angel dies too but they don't know they both went to hell and assume the other one is in heaven and one day they meet again out of luck and recognize eachother after having a conversation in a bar or something like that (btw if you could refrain from calling him anthony too much it would be greatly appreciated, nothing against that it's just that my dad is named antonio and it feels kinda weird to read a fic with my dad's name lol, but if you want to call him anthony anyway i don't mind at all), thanks for reading!

If my request violated any rules please tell me so that i won't make the mistake again

You are incredible! I adore how detailed this request is. I will use as little “Anthony” as possible lol.

Angel dust x reader (1940s follow up…or part two?)

C/W: cannon typical violence, grief, loss, mildly suggestive, survivors guilt, regret, crying LOTS of emotions.

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70 years. 70 years is how long it’s been. 70 years since you have seen him. It was startling at first. You never thought you would see him again. For a while you just held eachother. You sat there, your face nuzzled in his fluff. “Oh my god I have so much to tell you.” He smiled down at you. He began to talk about the family. You didn’t listen. You just stared at him. At how beautiful he is. You held his bottom set of hands and rested your head on his chest. You’ve never seen him so happy. This beautiful man you have been waiting for him for what it feels like an eternity and he’s finally here. You are in his arms at last. “Hey are you listening?” “No. I’m not. I’m sorry but…you look so happy. I can’t help but think…I mean it’s like- my whole brain is occupied by the thought ‘holy shit…this is it. This is what I have been waiting for. What I have been wanting.’ I’ve waited seventy years, my angel.” Tears well up in both your eyes. “Oh…oh my god.” He grabs your face and pulls it up to his. He kisses you. Not a kiss full of heat, but not with any less passion. A kiss filled with love and adoration. A kiss from a man missing the love of his life for 70 years. 70 years filled with pain and agony. For a moment, he forgot his pain, suffering, trauma, and tears. You are his everything. You are the reason he wanted to hang on. The shred of hope that you might reunite. “I thought you went to heaven” he said after he pulled away. You shake your head. “Why?” You laugh pitifully “I’ve done terrible things…” he sighs. “Because you regretted it. Every time. Every time you shot or stabbed you felt horrible. You brought flowers to their graves. You cried, tha-that can’t mean nothing!” He looks confused and angry. How dare they deny the love of his life entry to paradise? You are the kind of person to cry when Bambi’s mom died every time. Without fail. You put a chocolate smile on his pancakes once! “You’re too good for this shithole, (____)…too good.” His voice shakes as he said your name. You kiss him. Comforting, passionate, painful, sweet, and loving. “If I went to heaven I would’ve never seen you again.” You looked into his eyes. There were so many emotions swirling between the two of you that night.

I think the moral of this story is that…I don’t know hold on to the people that love you.

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I cried well writing this. Any feedback is encouraged. Thank you for reading🫂