Hazbin Imagine - Tumblr Posts

Hazbin OC/reader imagine | Reader x Lucifer:

Playing duck duck goose with everyone at the hotel. It’s your turn to go first, everyone is sat in a circle and you are slowly walking around the outside, tapping each person and saying “Duck” as you pass. There is tension and excitement in the air because no one knows who you will pick to be the goose. You’ve been flirting with Lucifer all day, and whenever you pass him you tap him gently and say “Duckie~” as opposed to just “duck”. You go around the circle a few times, the excitement and nervousness rising within you. Upon your third time reaching Lucifer you go for it, tapping him quickly as you shout “GOOSE!” before launching yourself into a run. Everyone in the circle is cheering and shouting for you excitedly but before you could reach halfway around the circle you hear a chuckle from behind you as a pair of strong arms wind around your waist and large wings enclose in front of you, trapping you in his embrace. A blush creeps onto your cheeks and your heart pounds in your chest as he whispers close to your ear.

“Caught you~”

v. deer dolly

see all chapters here tags: fem! reader, reader is a performer in a speakeasy, heavy warning for violence and bloof, graphic descriptions of injuries, manipulation, allusion to death, grey morality, references to alcoholism, twisted view of love, gorey descriptions of love, murder

˚୨୧₊♱

"THAT SLAG!"

Velvette's piercing scream echoed through the meeting room, slicing through the air like a jagged blade. Vox and Valentino jolted, turning their gazes toward the source of the disturbance.

"Good-for-nothing piece of shit twat assistant!" Velvette paced the room, her movements agitated and frantic as she angrily tapped away on her phone.

In a sudden surge of anger, she flung her device across the room, sending it flying above Valentino's head. A crash punctuated the air as it collided with a window, the impact shattering the glass into a cascade of shards that rained down onto the floor.

"Velvette, darling," Vox raised an eyebrow, his voice calm as always, "What's got you so worked up?"

He took a sip of his coffee, the rich aroma wafting up from the steaming cup as he idly scrolled through his laptop. "Is it that showgirl situation again?"

"Oh, bloody hell!" Velvette rolled her eyes. "Of course, it is, you git! It's been literally the ONLY thing I've been banging on about this week!"

Valentino's sigh cut through the conversation as he adjusted his sunglasses. Holding his glittering firearm up to his face, he pressed rhinestones on it with tacky glue, seemingly unfazed by Velvette's anger.

"It's just some performer, babydoll. We can find a replacement," he hummed, tone carrying a hint of disinterest.

"Are you out of your mind?!" Velvette seethed, her eyes flashing with anger as she stomped toward them, her heels clicking loudly with each step. She slammed her hands against the table, causing it to shift forward and jolt the items on the surface. With a hiss of pain, Vox recoiled, his hand jerking back from the scalding coffee he spilled on himself.

"The boutique opening is in three days! How on earth am I supposed to find a girl who's got the looks and a set of pipes in time?!" she exclaimed.

Valentino looked up from his bedazzling, a raised eyebrow visible above the rim of his sunglasses. "Have you tried one of my models? I got a lot of pretty little chicas who can charm the socks off anyone. No need to stress yourself out."

"Your models? Do you have any idea how much time and effort it's going to take for me to wrangle those little amateurs into something remotely resembling a professional performance?" Velvette retorted, her tone dripping with disdain. "Sod off!"

Valentino snarled in response but turned away with a huff, "Have it your way."

Vox wiped his hand with a grumble, the sting of the burn still lingering. He then tilted his head slightly, processing the information. "Have you tried scouting?"

"Have I tried scouting?" Velvette sneered, her tone thick with sarcasm. "Of course I have! All I've come across are bloody singers around here, and they all look like they've been dragged through the dirt backwards!"

"Well, have you tried the back district?" he offered, tapping his claws on the long glass table. He watched as Velvette pulled out a pocket mirror from her purse, visibly cringing at his suggestion.

"Why in bloody hell would I go there?" Velvette grimaced as she re-applied her dark lipstick. "I'm not about to waste my time scouring the back district for some dime-a-dozen talent. I need someone who's got class, not gutter scraps."

Vox wasn't deterred. "Well, there's this performer," he interjected, snapping his fingers. A screen materialized with a whiz, displaying a video of a figure in a sparkly silver dress singing and dancing. As the video drew to a close, the camera zoomed in, capturing a close-up of the woman's face. Her features were radiant, a smile gracing her lips as she gazed out at the audience.

Velvette snapped her mirror shut with a flick of her wrist, interest sparking in her eyes. She leaned in closer, studying the performer's features.

"Who's this?" she demanded.

"Dolly, at least that's what they call her," Vox replied smoothly. "She works at Mimzy's Lounge."

Velvette's expression darkened, strands of hair falling over her eyes as she took the screen in her hands, leaning down to view the image again. The glow of the projection illuminated her face, casting shadows that danced across her steely expression.

"Mimzy?" she seethed, her voice dripping with venomous rage. "That's the cunt who tore up my best showgirl!"

"Drama," Valentino chuckled, spinning his bedazzled gun around his fingers with a smirk.

"Well, this Dolly girl is her biggest star, and she's been making quite a name for herself there," Vox explained, gesturing toward the screen. "She's got the looks, the voice, and the stage presence you're looking for."

"And she's managed to shine even in the shadow of that cesspool," he added with a sardonic grin as he sipped from his coffee.

A flicker ignited in Velvette's eyes as she straightened. "Then it's settled. I'll pay her a visit."

Vox's lips curled into a smirk, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Sounds like you've got a plan brewing, my dear. Care for some company?"

Velvette shot him a glance before a grin tugged at the corner of her lips. "Why not? I could use a salesman."

˚୨୧₊♱

"Cher? Dearest? It's time to get up," the radio atop your bedside table rumbled, your husband's voice crackling through the air.

Grunting in protest, you burrowed deeper into the warmth of your blankets, seeking refuge from the harsh bite of the morning. But Alastor's persistent calls refused to be ignored.

"Mon cœur? Cher? W̷A̴K̶E̴ ̶U̸P̷!̶" it blared, amplified by the hissing static, demanding your immediate attention.

With a heavy sigh, you reluctantly peeled yourself away from the cocoon of comfort that had enveloped you.

Sitting up, you felt the blanket slip from your shoulders, pooling around your hips. Memories of last night flooded in, and the remnants of Alastor's romantic gesture still adorned your room. The bouquet sat atop your dresser, with scattered white roses delicately strewn across your bed like whispers of affection.

Despite the tender atmosphere, a throbbing headache reminded you of an unwelcome guest that accompanied you into the morning—the hangover.

Morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room, but its gentle warmth offered little solace against the hammering in your head.

Dragging yourself to the side, you swung your legs over the edge of the bed and sat for a moment, rubbing your temples in a futile attempt to ease the discomfort. Then, pushing yourself to your feet, you padded across the room, the cool floorboards offering an unwelcome contrast to the warmth of the bed. You took the radio into your hands, Alastor's bluenosed ass still calling out to you like an annoying alarm clock.

"I'm up, love," you hummed, voice still thick with sleep.

The radio rumbled with delight at your response.

"Hellish morning to you, my dear!" Alastor's voice boomed through the speakers, his jovial tone slicing through the early morning gloom. Despite your grogginess, a small smile tugged at the corners of your lips at the familiar sound of his voice.

"Hellish morning to you too, darling," you replied, your voice laced with affection.

"I trust you had a restful sleep?" Alastor questioned.

You let out a sigh, already feeling the weight of the day bearing down on you. "As restful as one can get with a noisy radio blaring in their ear," you grumbled.

"Hah!" Alastor laughed, the sound making you roll your eyes. "Ah, but where would you be without my dulcet tones to serenade you awake?"

"Probably catching a few more precious minutes of sleep," you muttered, already regretting the start of another day. “You are insufferable, you know that?”

"Ah, but that's why you love me," Alastor chuckled as he shrugged on his suit jacket. From his microphone, he caught the rustling of your clothes, followed by the gentle rush of running water, indicating you were likely in the bath.

With a snap of his fingers, Alastor summoned a gramophone, its antique form materializing atop his dresser with a soft thud. The needle descended onto the spinning vinyl record, filling the room with the soft strains of a familiar melody. As the music enveloped the space, Alastor's smooth voice seamlessly joined in.

I'll never smile again Until I smile at you I'll never laugh again What good would it do?

In the middle of washing your hair, you paused, caught off guard by the unexpected serenade. Despite yourself, a small smile tugged at the corners of your lips, the bittersweet melody stirring something deep within you.

For tears would fill my eyes My heart would realize That our romance is through

Exiting the bath, you toweled yourself off and approached your wardrobe, humming along softly as you selected your attire for the day. After scanning through the hangers, you settled on a vibrant red hooverette dress, its bold hue a stark contrast to the muted tones of hell's morning. With matching stockings and white heels, you completed the look, the final touch being a few roses plucked from the bouquet Alastor had given you, tucked behind your ear.

I'll never love again I'm so in love with you I'll never thrill again To somebody new

Dressed and ready to face the day, you returned to the radio, the soft strains of music and Alastor's voice dancing in the air. As the final notes faded into silence, you stood for a moment, savoring the quiet stillness of the morning.

With a pang of sadness, you glanced at the clock, realizing that it was time to go.

"I have to head out now, darling," you murmured into the radio, a sense of longing tugging at your heartstrings. "My shift starts in a while."

"Ah, until we meet again, mon cher," Alastor's voice replied warmly. "Do take care of yourself."

In response, you leaned down to press a kiss against the speakers, a gesture of your affection. The soft sound of the kiss was barely audible, but Alastor's keen ears still caught the gentle touch against the metal surface. He chuckled softly, then, with a soft click, the radio fell silent.

As you slipped your purse over your shoulder, a thought crossed your mind—should you bring the radio along? The temptation to have Alastor's voice with you throughout the day was strong, but the risk of further damaging the precious device gave you pause. With a sigh, you decided against it, opting to leave it safely in your room, where it would patiently await your return.

Heading out of your room, the lounge was already buzzing with the bustle of customers and staff. Although no singer graced the stage yet, the speakers blasted with the familiar tunes of Hell’s Top 10 Hits, setting the stage for another lively day at the club.

"There you are!" Mimzy's voice cut through the hustle and bustle, her exaggerated smile failing to reach her eyes as she bounded towards you.

"Just the person I was looking for," she exclaimed, her tone filled with an almost manic energy. "Listen, doll, I've got a marvelous idea for a performance."

You sighed inwardly, bracing yourself for whatever scheme she had cooked up this time. Mimzy's requests were as extravagant as they were challenging, always pushing the boundaries to maintain her club's reputation and squeeze every last dime from these sinners' wallets.

"Let's hear it," you replied, mustering a polite smile.

"So, I was thinking," Mimzy began, a glint of mischief in her eyes, "how about a duet? A throwback to the good ole days, sharing the spotlight. It's bound to be a performance these wayward fools are going to talk about for ages!"

You raised an eyebrow, surprised by the relatively tame suggestion. Mimzy wasn't known for her subtlety or restraint when it came to showmanship. At most, a duet with Mimzy was sure to be a spectacle, for better or for worse.

"And when is this going to be held?" you inquired, a hint of apprehension creeping into your tone.

"When else? Prime time tonight!" Mimzy declared with a flourish. And there it was.

"Tonight?" Your eyes widened, shoulders squaring in shock. "Ma'am, that's cutting it a bit close, don't you think?"

"Bushwa! We'll make it work," Mimzy replied dismissively, waving off your concerns with a flick of her hand. "And I've already got the perfect song in mind. It'll be a real humdinger, mark my words."

You couldn't help but feel a knot of anxiety forming in your stomach at the thought of such short notice, but you pushed it aside.

"Alright," you sighed, hoping for the best but bracing yourself for the chaos that was sure to follow. "Tonight it is."

"That's the spirit! Why don't you take the morning off? I'll see ya tonight," Mimzy grinned as she hurried off to make preparations.

Awkwardly standing by the stairs, you watched her skip off with an unusually chipper air. It struck you as odd, but you pushed the thought aside, eager to have the morning to yourself. As you turned away, however, your head throbbed once more, the reminder of your hangover cutting through the moment.

"Hell," you muttered with a grunt, making your way outside, hoping to smoke away the edge of discomfort.

Trudging along the filthy backstreets, you did your best to avoid the muck and other questionable liquids that lined the roadside. The stench of decay hung heavy in the air, assaulting your senses with each step you took. No one spared you a glance as you passed; the denizens of hell were absorbed in their own pursuits or concerns, and you blended into the backdrop of the grim landscape seamlessly. Not that you minded; you had no desire to draw attention to yourself in a place where every resident seemed to harbor their own perverse motives.

Finally reaching a clearer stretch of street, you took a seat on one of the benches, the worn wood groaning under your weight. The city bustled around you, a mix of sounds and movements that seemed to blur together. With a weary sigh, you reached into your bag in search of company—a cigarette.

Fingers fumbling amidst the contents of your purse, you felt the familiar shape of the roll, and with a hum, you pulled it out. However, as you continued to rummage through your belongings, a sinking realization settled in.

Your matchbox wasn't there.

With a click of your tongue, frustration bubbled up inside you like a simmering pot ready to boil over.

First, a hangover, and now you had to navigate through the rest of your day without your customary smoke. It seemed like the universe was determined to test your patience at every turn.

As you prepared to leave, a tap on your shoulder made you turn. Standing behind you was a tall and slender spider-like demon adorned in a luxurious white fur jacket. The plushness of the coat enveloped his frame which contrasted with the sleekness of the black bodycon dress he wore underneath, accentuating his figure.

"Need a light?" he asked, a small smirk playing on his face as he held up a pink-colored lighter.

You eyed him skeptically for a moment.

In hell, kindness often came with a price. Whether it was a favor owed, a debt to be repaid, or simply a hidden agenda waiting to be revealed, nothing came for free. However, when your head throbbed again, you sighed and relented with a nod, accepting the offer despite your reservations.

Angel Dust lit up the lighter, the flame on top dancing gracefully. Moving closer, you leaned in, allowing the flame to catch the tip of your cigarette between your teeth. As you took a deep, shaky inhale, the smoke filled your lungs, momentarily transporting you to another realm. With your eyes closed and a sense of calm washing over you, you leaned back, letting yourself be carried away by the fleeting tranquility of the moment.

"What's your name?" you questioned, leaning back on the bench with your eyes still closed. Faintly, you felt the creak of the bench as the demon sat down beside you.

"Angel Dust," he hummed, and your eyes shot open, lips forming an 'O' shape.

Your eyes widened in surprise, a hint of recognition dawning on you. "The porn star?" you blurted out before you could stop yourself.

Angel Dust grinned smugly in response, clearly amused by your reaction. "Didn't take you as the type to watch my shit, toots," he teased, his tone playful and confident.

"Well, I may not be your typical fan, but your name does tend to make its rounds in conversation," you chuckled, shaking your head in amusement. Taking your cigarette in your hand, you tilted your head up to face him, a curious glint in your eyes. "I saw you in my husb—erm… the Radio Demon's commercial. Hazbin Hotel, was it?"

"Yeah, and don't worry, I know. Dolly, was it?" Angel Dust replied smoothly, his demeanor surprisingly nonchalant given the situation. Extending his hand for you to shake, he continued, "Nice ta' finally put a face to the name."

His recognition caught you off guard, but you shook his hand firmly nonetheless. "How did you—did Alastor tell you about me? You two must be close."

Angel Dust hesitated, a fleeting uncertainty crossing his features. His crimson eyes darted away briefly, as if weighing his words carefully. Something in him told him it wasn't the best idea to tell you about Mimzy's recent involvement with your husband.

"Let's just say word gets around in our circles," he replied vaguely, tugging his coat closer around himself.

"I don't know him that well, though," Angel Dust admitted with a shrug, his gaze drifting off momentarily. "Sometimes he can be a bit of a… Well…"

"A bit of a pompous windbag with a sadistic streak?" you suggested, exhaling smoke as you raised an eyebrow at Angel Dust, testing the waters.

Angel Dust laughed genuinely, throwing his head back. "Something along those lines, toots," he grinned, taking another drag of his cigarette.

"Well, it's good to know I'm not the only one who sees it," you remarked, a wry smile playing on your lips.

"Believe me, ya ain't alone in that," he agreed. "So, ah—What brings ya out here? Aside from the obvious need for a smoke."

"Just needed some fresh air, you know?" you admitted with a shrug. "Plus, I may have indulged a bit too much last night and woke up feeling like death warmed over."

"I hear ya," Angel Dust replied, nodding sympathetically as he observed your tired form, noting the slump of your body and the dark circles under your eyes. You looked so different from the sparkly performer he had seen on stage.

"Hey, I actually caught one of ya shows the other night," he interjected, attempting to shift the conversation to a lighter topic.

"Did you?" you asked, surprise evident in your voice.

"Yeah," Angel Dust said with a smile. "Gotta say, ya put on quite the show up there. "I mean—Ya had the crowd eatin' out of the palm of ya hand."

A faint smile crept onto your cheeks at his praise, a swell of pride rising within you.

"Well, thank you," you replied, momentarily forgetting your fatigue in the warmth of his words. "It means a lot coming from someone like you."

Angel Dust waved off your gratitude with a casual flick of his hand, his demeanor relaxed and easygoing.

"Ah, c'mon. I call it like I see it," he said with a shrug, a smirk playing on his lips. "N'trust me, I've seen my fair share of performances."

Lost in the easy flow of conversation, you allowed yourself to relax, content in the company of your spider companion. Hours passed and before you knew it, the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the park.

Angel Dust whistled, flicking the ash from his cigarette and glancing down at his phone, which buzzed with a spam of notifications.

"Well, as much as I'm lovin' our little talk, I should probably get going. Can't keep the boss waiting," he remarked, his tone tinged with a hint of reluctance. "Ya goin' to be alright by yourself?"

"Of course," you replied, offering a casual wave as he stood up from the bench. "See you, Angel."

"Looking forward to it, dollface," he replied with a wink before sauntering off into the bustling city streets, leaving you to enjoy the tranquility of the streets alone. With a sigh, you stubbed out your cigarette and rose from the bench, feeling refreshed by the cool evening air that enveloped you.

As you made your way back, the neon lights of the city came to life, casting vibrant reflections on the pavement. Stepping up the stairs to the entrance, you were greeted by the familiar sights and sounds of the bustling establishment. The air was thick with the scent of perfume and cigarette smoke, mingling with the pulsating rhythm of the music from within.

Mimzy was nowhere to be seen, which came as a welcome relief. You made a beeline straight to your dressing room, eager to prepare for tonight's performance in peace without a certain blonde talking your ear off.

Taking a seat at the vanity, you began to prepare for the evening ahead, carefully applying your makeup and fixing your hair into place.

A knock interrupted you, prompting you to rise from your seat and approach the door. As you opened it, you were met with the sight of an imp demon with white blotches on his skin and sunglasses perched on his nose, holding up a box.

"May I help you?" you inquired, blinking with a confused look on your face.

"Yeah. Are you Dolly?" the imp asked, his tone curt and impatient.

"Yes?" you replied, a brow raised.

"Great. This is for you, lady," he said, thrusting the box of jewelry toward you. "If you could just sign here so I can get the hell out of this shithole, that'd be great."

You accepted the box from the imp demon's outstretched hand, eyeing him warily as he thrust a pen and clipboard in your direction. With a resigned sigh, you reluctantly took the pen and scrawled your signature on the dotted line, handing the clipboard back to him with a curt nod.

"Thanks," he muttered, barely sparing you a glance as he turned on his heel and hurried away, disappearing into the crowded hallway of the club.

Curiosity piqued, you turned your attention back to the box in your hands. Running your fingers over the smooth surface, you lifted the lid, revealing the sight of a pearl necklace with a rose pendant nestled inside. The pearls shimmered softly in the light, almost looking like they were glowing.

Taken aback, you reached for the small card tucked within the box. Gently retrieving it with a careful hand, you turned it around to see the words "From Al" penned gracefully in elegant script.

"Oh, you cheese…" With a soft smile curling at the corners of your lips, you lifted the necklace from its satin-lined cocoon and draped it around your neck, the pendant resting gently against your collarbone. As the pearls shined from the light and cast a luminous glow against your skin, you couldn't help but feel a flutter of affection in your chest at the thoughtful gesture from your husband.

Feeling as ditzy as a teenager in love, you turned away from the vanity, your heart aflutter with excitement. With a glide, you crossed the room to the wardrobe, fingers dancing over the array of neatly hung dresses.

Before your fingers could grasp onto a dress, a sudden deafening explosion tore through the air. The sound was thunderous, shaking the walls and causing the ground beneath your feet to tremble violently. The shockwave slammed into you with palpable force, knocking you off balance and sending you crashing to the floor amidst a cloud of dust and debris.

Confusion etched across your features as your heart pounded in your chest, the adrenaline coursing through your veins. With trembling hands, you pushed yourself up from the ground, the fear rising within you like a tide.

What in hell was that?

Staggering to your feet, you frantically ran out into the lounge. As the dust settled, you could see the entrance of the lounge now reduced to a gaping maw, the doors blown open by the force of the explosion. The familiar sights and sounds of the club were replaced by a scene of utter devastation, with debris strewn haphazardly across the floor and smoke billowing out into the night air.

A dark shadow loomed ominously amidst the chaos of the panicked staff and customers.

Struggling to make out the figures amidst the frenzy, you strained your eyes. There stood a slender demon, impeccably dressed, with cedar-brown skin and long red curly hair tied into neat pigtails. A sinking feeling settled in your chest: it was Velvette of the Vees.

Your heart sank further as you caught sight of Mimzy, trapped in Velvette's vice-like grip. Fear contorted her features as she fought against her captor's hold.

But it was the presence of the figure standing behind Velvette that truly sent a shiver down your spine.

Vox, the TV Demon, his mere presence commanding attention, stood with an aura of chilling indifferences. His eyes scanned the room with a detached coldness, as if the pandemonium were of little consequence.

Suddenly, his icy gaze locked onto yours, freezing you in place. The weight of his scrutiny felt suffocating, like being ensnared in the gaze of a predator sizing up its prey, ready to strike at any moment.

"Mimzy, sugar," Vox's voice hummed, addressing Mimzy with a deceptive sweetness. "Why don't you go and have a little chat with your esteemed employee about our… conditions?" His words dripped with malice as he gestured towards you.

Wide-eyed with fear, Mimzy frantically nodded, her breaths coming in short, ragged gasps. With a scoff, Velvette released her grip on Mimzy's throat, allowing the blonde to stumble toward you, her movements shaky and unsteady.

"What is—" you started, but Mimzy cut you off, her urgency evident as she began to drag you backstage. Without a moment's hesitation, she pushed you into your dressing room, swiftly locking the door behind you.

"Mimzy, what in hell is going on out there?" you demanded, your voice trembling with a mix of fear and confusion.

Mimzy's breaths came in ragged gasps as she leaned against the door, her eyes wide with terror. She struggled to find her words, her entire figure trembling as she tried to compose herself.

"It's Velvette," she finally managed to choke out.

"Why is she here? What does she want from us?" you pressed, urgency creeping into your tone as you searched Mimzy's face for answers. But her response only added to your unease.

"You need to go with 'em," Mimzy said abruptly, her voice tense with urgency.

"Go with who? What are you talking about?" you asked, disbelief and fear creeping into your voice.

"She's out for payback, see? And she won't stop until she gets it," Mimzy explained, her eyes looking grave and determined, like she had some ace up her sleeve. "I gotta level the playing field, doll. She wants a replacement, and she's chosen you."

"I can't just go along with this!" you protested, your voice rising with frustration. "My contract with you ends in a year. If I go with them, I'll be their pawn for all of eternity!"

Mimzy's expression remained cold and unforgiving. "But I can't just risk Velvette destroying everything I've built!" she rushed, her tone devoid of remorse.

Anger surged within you, fueled by betrayal and fear. "What about me? What about Alastor?"

"Oh, him again!" Mimzy pushed herself off the door, her face contorted with anger. "You've been so obsessed with that radio fool, you've forgotten who's been with you since the very start! Ever since you got hitched to him you stopped caring about a damn thing!"

"I cared! And I still bloody well care, Mimzy!" you shot back. Your eyes blazed with a fire, cracks beginning to form on your face as your demon form threatened to break free. "But you were an empty, hollow shell of a woman with naught in her head but money! You'd sell out anyone, even me, to get what you want!"

Mimzy recoiled slightly, her façade momentarily cracked by your words. "You-You think you're any better? Running off with your precious Alastor, pretending like he's the savior of your life. But I know you've heard his broadcasts. I know you've seen the news. He's no better than me, playing you like a puppet while hiding behind his façade of being a good man!"

Enraged, you lunged forward, tackling her against the wall. As fury consumed you, your form contorted and twisted, taking on a monstrous semblance. Your features morphed, sharpening into angular lines, while cracks spiderwebbed across your skin like shattered porcelain. Limbs stretched and warped, turning jagged and disjointed, resembling the joints of a marionette. Teeth elongated into razor-sharp fangs, glinting menacingly in the dim light. And as you bared them in a snarl, your lips curled back in a grotesque mockery of a mouth, "Say that again! I fucking dare you!"

"I'll say it as many times as I damn well please!" Mimzy spat, her voice dripping with venom as she fought against your grasp.

The blonde swiftly reached for an object within reach, her hands grabbing hold of a nearby picture frame. In a sudden motion, she swung it, the heavy wood and glass connecting with your transformed flesh in a sickening thud.

Caught off guard by Mimzy's sudden aggression, you staggered backward. Thick blood dripped from the wound, pooling on the floor and mingling with the cracks in your porcelain-like skin as you struggled to regain your composure.

"You've got some nerve!" Mimzy's voice thundered as she stood over you, her pale face flushing crimson with rage. "You wanted that fame, and I made it happen. Now you don't?! Fuck! Some ungrateful brat you are! Willing to throw it all away for some man! Do you really think what he feels for you is love?!"

As Mimzy's tirade continued, her words cutting through the haze of pain and anger, a sense of disorientation washed over you. Her words struck a nerve, stirring up memories that you had long tried to suppress.

˚୨୧₊♱

Rain poured down, drenching your hunched form. The world around you blurred into a chaotic whirlwind of colors and shapes, disorienting and suffocating. With each droplet, the weight of the storm pressed down upon you, threatening to drown your senses in its relentless onslaught.

Beneath the fabric of your dress, your knees throbbed painfully, raw from the harsh scrape against unforgiving concrete. Your hands desperately fumbled in the darkness, searching for something to anchor yourself to. Then, finally, your fingertips brushed against the familiar texture of rusting metal.

With a ragged sigh of relief, you realized you had found the gate of your house. Summoning all your remaining strength, you clasped both hands around the cold, wet metal bars and attempted to pull yourself up, each movement a struggle against the weight of your own body.

Through the haze, you felt rough hands sneak around your waist, and as your vision cleared slightly, your husband's face emerged from the blur. His once impeccable suit now clung to him like a second skin, soaked through by the downpour. Strands of his usually immaculate hair stuck to his forehead, dampened and dripping onto his glasses. With a sense of urgency, he scooped you up into his arms, his expression tense as he felt the icy chill of your body against his own.

If you weren't moving he would have thought you a corpse.

"Cher?" Alastor's voice cut through the fog in your mind, but your response was sluggish, your gaze glassy and dilated. "Merde. Did you drag yourself here all alone?"

Without waiting for an answer, he moved, cradling you in his arms as he hurried back toward your house, each step heavy with concern. Once inside, he wasted no time in laying you down on the sofa.

"Al," you finally spoke, whimpering softly as you raised a shaky hand towards him. Alastor immediately moved towards you, hushing your cries as he pressed a deep kiss on your lips.

Alastor moved to cradle your face in his rough hands, and what he saw shattered whatever fragments of his heart were still intact. Bruises and dried blood adorned your body, your skin was clammy, streaks of mascara carved paths down your tear-stained face, and your limbs trembled involuntarily. The scent of whiskey lingered on your lips, and the fearful haze in your eyes mirrored the terror of a rabbit cornered by a wolf.

"Who did this to you?" he scowled, kneeling before you to slip your torn stockings and muddy heels off your feet.

"Mimzy," you sobbed out, your voice trembling with pain and fear, the weight of the night crashing down on you with each word.

"I tried to quit. She didn't let me. The bar. She gave me a drink. More and more. I couldn't stop. I was just so upset." Your words were fragmented, broken by the wrenching sobs that shook your fragile form, your vulnerability laid bare before him.

"Mon cœur," Alastor hushed, his voice a soothing balm to your shattered soul. "Calm down. Take your time."

You made an effort, though the first few attempts were shallow and rushed. Eventually, you managed to draw in a deep breath, releasing it in a rush before taking another. And another.

"That's it, my dear. Now, what happened?"

Summoning all your strength, you opened your mouth and began to recount the harrowing events of the night.

Earlier this evening, you had mustered up enough courage to hand in your resignation letter to Mimzy. However, her reaction was far from pleasant. An argument erupted, filled with less than savory words being thrown around like daggers.

Before you knew it, Mimzy's rage boiled over, and she tackled you, beating you within an inch of your life. Once her fury had subsided, the blonde's demeanor shifted drastically. She began to act sweet and caring, as if nothing had happened. She dragged you to her private bar, offering you alcohol in an attempt to placate you. As per habit, you found yourself consuming drink after drink until everything became a blur.

Alastor's heart clenched at the anguish in your voice, his expression darkening. Slowly, he stood and lifted you onto his lap.

Taking your hand in his, he leaned in close, voice a soft murmur.

"Let me take care of everything, doll," he whispered. "She won't ever bother you again."

Your breath hitched at the tenderness in his voice, the warmth of his body against yours offering a fleeting sense of security in the midst of chaos. But as realization dawned, a sense of dread gripped you, your heart pounding with fear.

"Alastor, no," you whimpered, your voice barely above a whisper as you withdrew your hands and pressed them against his chest, pushing him away with trembling urgency. Desperation dripped from every syllable, pleading for him to spare you from the truth that loomed ominously before you. "Please don't tell me it means what I think it does."

Your gaze pleaded with him, searching his eyes for any sign of reassurance, any hint that what you feared was not true. However, your husband's smile, both comforting and chilling, remained unchanged as he pressed another kiss to the corner of your lips.

"I would kill for you," Alastor murmured against your skin, his thumb tracing the contours of your wedding ring. Bending down, he pressed a tender kiss against the golden band, sealing his vow with the promise of bloodshed, lips lingering against the cool metal. As he drew back, you found yourself ensnared by the intensity of his gaze, pools of brown reflecting a manic fervor.

"Please let me kill for you."

Tears blurred your vision as you bowed your head, the gravity of his words weighing heavily on your conscience. Deep down, you knew that Alastor's devotion to you knew no bounds. Whether it was causing pain, shedding blood, or delving into the darkest recesses of his soul, he would heed your call without hesitation.

A warmth trickled down your cheeks with each blink, tracing a path along your skin. Your eyes burned fiercely, tears cascading down your flushed cheeks and silently dripping from your chin like dewdrops. As you attempted to draw deep breaths, your body shook with a desperation to escape, though you couldn't quite grasp what it was you were fleeing from.

A ragged sound echoed through the room, grating against your senses. It took a moment to register that the noise came from your own lungs, your breaths torn and jagged as they struggled to find a rhythm.

"Okay," you whispered, the weight of that single word heavy with the burden of guilt and a future tinged with blood.

There was a soft chuckle, accompanied by the gentle touch of a hand moving to caress your cheeks. "Good girl."

˚୨୧₊♱

Snapping back to the present, you found yourself staring at Mimzy as she raged around the room, her fury unleashed on the surroundings, wrecking anything and everything in her path.

A man who kills for you. A man who dirties his hands for you. Is that not love?

A kick from her sent your vanity toppling over, causing bottles of your perfume and whiskey to crash from its surface. The glass shattered upon impact, releasing splintering sounds that pierced your ears. As the bottles broke, the air filled with the pungent scent of flora, mingling with the rich aroma of spilled whiskey.

It must be love.

With a hand trembling from adrenaline, you ran your fingers through your hair, the sticky feeling of blood staining your palm. Rising unsteadily to your feet, you turned to face Mimzy, strands of damp, bloodied hair falling over your cracked porcelain face.

"You ornery washed-up bitch," you rasped out in a laugh, voice breathless and laced with venom. "I should have left you to rot in that forest."

Mimzy froze, her wide eyes locked on you.

"What did you say to me?" she seethed, her gaze hardening as she extended her hand toward the shattered liquor glass and the spilled liquid.

With a flick of her wrist, the whiskey began to swirl and solidify, forming into chains that snaked around your limbs, binding you in place. Your muscles tensed against the restraints as Mimzy manipulated you like a puppeteer. Slowly, you reverted back to your regular form, forced to your knees before her.

The blonde bent down, her grip firm on your face, nails digging deep into your skin as she pulled your head up to face her. "You're here because of me! Everything you've evah achieved was because of me! I made you a star, and this is how you repay me?!"

You recognized the anger in her tone, but beneath it lurked a deeper pain and desperation. Poor gal was fighting to reclaim control over a situation slipping through her grasp.

A sudden knock at the door came, causing her to tense. The door creaked open to reveal a the imposing figure of Vox filling the doorway. As he entered the room, a wave of static filled the air, crackling and sending goosebumps cascading over your skin. His gaze swept over the scene, taking note of your restraints and bloodied head before settling on Mimzy.

"What is the meaning of this?" Vox's voice was like ice, sending shivers down your spine as he addressed her.

Under Vox's scrutiny, Mimzy's confident demeanor dropped, replaced by a nervous tremor in her voice. "I-I was just… settling some unfinished business, mistah," she stammered, attempting to regain her composure.

"You've just damaged the merchandise, sweetheart," Vox quipped, a smirk playing on his lips, as if he found the situation amusing.

With a casual snap of his fingers, the wires from the stage lights above writhed and twisted, tearing free from the ceiling with a deafening creak. They snaked through the air like serpents, wrapping around Mimzy's torso and dragging her away from you with a forceful yank.

With Mimzy taken care of, Vox then turned his attention to you.

"Dolly, was it?" he said, his voice disarming. "I've got to say, I have always wanted to see you."

"You've seen me," you replied with a cold edge to your voice, slowly backing away and pressing yourself against the wall. "I'm here."

"Charmed," Vox smiled, his gaze heating as he drank you in, every detail of you a captivating sight. As Vox strode towards you, you instinctively curled into yourself, anticipating his looming presence. He chuckled softly, noticing your reaction, and halted his advances. Instead, he took a seat on the cushion by your toppled vanity, glowing eyes locked onto you, pretty Dolly Heart.

Your lips were painted a vivid red, curling slightly at the corners in a frown. Your damp, glossy curls framed your face, catching the light in a way that had him itching to reach out and touch them himself. Blood dripped from your temple, staining the delicate white flowers woven into your hair.

The TV Demon was interested in you, and he wouldn't let go until he went home with you tonight, that much was clear.

"I have a deal in mind," Vox turned to Mimzy with a grin that screamed trouble. "Are you willing to trade your soul for hers?"

Your blood ran cold with fear.

"As Velvette and I are business partners, our souls contracts are intertwined. I'm sure there would be no issue if you signed the deal with me instead," he added with a chuckle, his eyes swirling with a dangerous allure.

Panic clawed at your insides, urging you to flee from the impending doom that loomed before you. But rooted to the spot by fear, you found yourself unable to move, trapped in the suffocating grip of the room.

"Yes! A-Absolutely!" Mimzy exclaimed as she nodded frantically, her eyes nervously glued to the crackling electricity of the torn wires still wrapped around her.

In an instant, Vox conjured a new contract and a strong burst of wind swept through the room, ruffling curtains and causing objects to tremble on their surfaces. Blue light flooded the walls, casting eerie shadows and filling the room with an ominous glow. The atmosphere crackled with electricity, every hair on your body standing on end as if charged with static energy.

A tablet then materialized and floated up in the air, hovering before you. Its screen pulsed with a faint, golden glow, reflecting the fearful look in your wide eyes.

Hopelessness washed over you as you gazed at your reflection in the wretched screen. Another chain broken, and yet another looming on the horizon.

The thought of Alastor's reaction to Vox gaining control over you filled you with dread, knowing the consequences would be dire for all involved. Yet, despite the danger, Mimzy seemed willing to make the deal, and you couldn't fathom why she thought it was a good idea.

Vox handed Mimzy a stylus, tapping his clawed finger along the screen of his tablet.

"Make her sign here, and it'll be done," he urged, his voice smooth and persuasive.

With a trembling hand, Mimzy took the stylus and held it out for you, the strings of her magic wrapping around your limbs once again. You tried to shout out, but Mimzy's magic stitched your lips shut, leaving you unable to utter a sound.

Helpless, you watched as your hand was forced to reach out and take the pen into your grasp, your fingers moving against your will as Mimzy guided them to sign the contract. With each stroke of the pen, a wave of despair washed over you, a muffled sob bubbling from your throat as your name appeared on the screen, sealing your fate.

Vox's smile widened, a glint of triumph dancing in his eyes as he held up your old paper contract with Mimzy, the words now rendered meaningless. With a swift motion, he tore it to shreds, the sound of paper ripping echoing through the tense silence of the room.

"Welcome to VoxTek, Dolly."

˚୨୧₊♱