#this is just me stretching my fingers and getting used to writing engel it hink

[daigina-3]

Star Dust, Angel Dust

Anthony Donatiello was going to be a star. 

The dark cinema was buzzing. The joint was full of his family and friends- the place rented out just for them. Not that he thought his uncle’s meathead friends or his cousins cared much for motion pictures, unless they were the kiddie vaudeville types. They just didn’t have the taste Anthony did. Molly liked movies all right, but mostly because she knew Anthony did. She did anything he wanted, went where he went, liked what he liked; even if she didn’t, really. 

He sat back in the big seat- his feet just reaching the floor. His frame was slight even at eleven, when most of the other kids his age were sprouting up and out. He was hardly any bigger than Molly was, the two of them identical pointy limbs and round, pinched-cheek faces. Though Ma said he’d hit his growth spurt any day now and be taller than all of them, and be on his way to becomin’ a big man like his papa. 

Anthony wasn’t sure he liked the sound of that. He loved his papa, sure. But when he dreamt of who he would be as an adult, it wasn’t his father’s stubbly jaw line and gruff voice he imagined.

It was Roman Novaro, with his slender frame and shiny hair. It was Colleen Moore and her wire-thin dainty eyebrows and shiny bead-embroidered dresses.

It was Clara Bow. 

On the silver screen, Clara Bow’s big round eyes were pinched in anger as she was waving her cutesy little gun around (He didn’t know what she thought that little thing would do- he’d seen bigger guns in his pop’s bathroom), looking for all the world like she was about to jump out of the ten foot tall screen and into the room. 

Clara was the ultimate star- she had the face, the legs, the smile. She was everything. People called her the “it” girl- on the cover of every magazine, in every department store window on posters for perfume and powder- and always, always with all eyes on her. 

She was an angel.

Anthony had fallen in love with her the first time he’d seen her on screen with her thin painted lips and the way they quirked up in an impish smile. He’d made his mama take him to the cinema to see the movie three times. He practiced that smile in the bathroom mirror every morning for a week. 

Ladies of the Mob had been a funny choice for a family outing, looking back. Not that he’d really known then that the family business was anything more than some vague investment company or something else equally as vague and boring as shit to an eleven year old. He just thought that maybe all investment companies came with family bodyguards who were also his cousins- and also cousins that weren’t really cousins but they called them that anyway. And didn’t every family have weapon stashes in every room of the house? His pops always said protecting his family came first!

Next to him in the dark, Molly elbowed him gently and held out the little bag of popcorn for him to take a handful. Her big blue eyes were still locked on the screen as Clara’s lover, the poor crook who Clara was trying so hard to make a better man, grabbed her by the arms and shook her passionately. Anthony felt the tension rise as their faces got closer together and her lover shook her again, the piano music swelling. The gun fell from Clara’s hand as she stared up at her fella’s furious face.

“Don’t you know I love ya, ya dumb broad?” The title card read. 

Clara shook her head, moving her perfectly painted lips. Anthony mirrored her expression, copying the way she turned down the corners of her mouth.

“Well, you have a mighty good way of showing it.”

He yanked her forward with force until they were just an inch away, his mouth mumbling words that made Anthony’s tummy flip and his eyebrows go up in surprise just the same as Clara’s on screen.

“I’ll show you good.”

He crashed his mouth to Clara’s- Anthony didn’t have to look at his sister to know Molly had clapped one hand over her eyes. She still thought kissing was gross, the little baby. But he didn’t ever want to look away. In the darkness with stars in his little eyes, Anthony puckered his lips, instinctively copying Clara. 

Someone was gonna kiss him like that someday. 

*

“You're gonna be a star, Angel baby.”

That's what Val had told him when they first met in the corner of a hazy strip club. The moth demon had paid for private dances at the club, rented out rooms for days just to monopolize Angel's time and attention. And Angel took the compliment and the cash, batted his lashes and let Val flash even more bills than the day before or the day before. He was buying bottle after bottle without care. Hell, he was practically pouring the shit out on the floor. What did Val care? He could buy the whole bottling plant if he wanted. He had money, he had power, he had people falling at his feet.

So who could blame Angel if he fell, too?

Well. He sure as fuck could blame himself. He'd been stupid. Naive.

Val had been good to him, at the start. For a long while, Angel was a free man who went where he wanted and did what and who he wanted. And who he wanted was Val. He ate up the gifts; the clothes, the free meals, the sex- he was peppered with kisses and pet names and promises and in return when Val was mean, Angel told himself that was the shit he was into anyway. Even if he wasn't really into how Val did it.

And he wasn't mean outside of bed, anyway- Angel would never let that happen to him. He watched, tucked under Val's wing as he was cruel and ruthless to waitstaff, employees, dancers, bartenders. Didn't matter. That would never be him. He was Angel Baby, his star, Amorcito. He was special.

Stupid. Naive. And humble, as ever.

Anthony never got to be a star. But Angel was. His face was everywhere. His legs and ass were in even more places.

Just like Clara, he thought to himself with satisfaction when he looked in the mirror before a shoot, giving himself bedroom eyes and admiring himself.

Just like Clara? He thought to himself with a bitter pit in his stomach when he looked in a mirror after Val manhandled him. kissed him so hard it hurt. Talked over him. Didn't listen when he asked for a pause, a moment to catch his breath.

Breaks were not in the budget, on or off set.

Angel Dust was a star. But Anthony was curled up in bed, the only one who ever loved him right snuffling at his tear stained cheeks. He drew Fat Nuggets in tighter to his chest, letting him nuzzle his neck and snort sweetly.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfiction #angel dust #angel dust hazbin hotel #valentinto tw too i guess but its nothign thats not in the show #this is just me stretching my fingers and getting used to writing engel it hink #angel I think* #also its just me having fun w the idea of him being a baby in the 20s w it girls and slay queens and clara bow shooting to fame #also dont we all love the reflection on childhood dreams when youre an adult who feels like you're a failure!! #anyway I'm working on an actual fic thats half done and I'm injecting more humor because i love this side of angel #but i also love the humor and the funny little sex jokes and the haughtiness as a defense mechanism #and husk i love husk so much im obsessed w that stupid cat