(OUTDATED!) 𝐃𝐑𝐔𝐍𝐊 𝐎𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐏𝐎𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐍: yandere hazbin hotel x reader

2| "𝘧𝘪𝘭𝘮 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳"

"And I will! I'm just- I can't—" Angel Dust snaps, but he quickly recovers and slouches, panting softly. "I won't do it. Not yet."

You stare at him, studying his expression and the way his hands fidget anxiously. It's strange, but you actually sort of feel bad for him. You take a deep breath, forcing a gentle smile onto your face. "That's alright. I'm... sure he'll understand."

"Wait, but Y/N, you can't go to work, we—" Charlie pleads, but she cuts herself off and sighs. "We'll just do the exercises when you get back!"

Your phone vibrates in your pocket and you fix your posture. "Sounds great, thanks!" And you don't waste a second more making your way out.
———

"Where the fuck is he!?" Valentino shouts, grabbing your arm and shoving you inside your dressing room, following you inside and slamming the door shut behind him. "I asked you to do one thing! And you can't even do that! Do you have any idea how much fucking money we lose every second that he's not here!?"

You stumble forward from the force of his toss, landing on the marble floor back-first. "I'm sorry! I can't just drag him out, I won't be allowed back at the hotel and then I won't be able to do Vox's thing—"

Valentino towers over you, grabbing you by a fistful of your hair and throwing you into the wall, your nose bashed against the bricks. "Vox isn't the one that owns your fucking soul!" He yells, roughly turning you to face him and yanking your head back, watching the blood trickle down from your nose to your upper lip. "You are so goddamn lucky that you make me money!"

You squirm weakly, but that futile fight leaves your body as soon as it entered, and you slump into the wall. "I'm sorry." You insist.

"Damn right you're sorry." He seethes, knocking your head into the wall behind you before dropping you and swiftly leaving the room. But not before adding in a quick, "Clean yourself up, you're on in five."

He slams the door behind him, and you bring yourself to your feet. You stumble over to the vanity and sit down, shoving your hair out of your face and looking into your own eyes through the mirror. "I'm a wreck," You croak out, disgusted by the bruise that's formed on your nose, the cracked, dry blood staining your face, the tear streaks on your cheeks. "Shit, shit."

After managing to compose yourself a bit, you get to work covering up the wounds the best you can with concealer, wiping away the blood and tears, calming yourself down. You walk into the studio, tugging at the fluff of your robe, a futile attempt to comfort yourself. 'Relax. He's reasonable. He'll forgive you.' You think to yourself, seeking out solace in words that you know are lies.

The moment your eyes snap to the set that you'll be filming at, it becomes all too apparent that he, in fact, has not forgiven you. There are at least five other actors waiting on set, and notably, they're all men. You bite down a gag of disgust and push forward.

"Y/N," Valentino begins, grabbing you by the arm and tugging you toward him. He moves his hand to instead grip your chin, tilting your head from side to side. "You look much more presentable now. Good." Valentino blows a puff of smoke into your face, the scent forcing its way into your nostrils.

You don't dare meet his eyes, tensing under his grasp. You try to tell yourself that it's going to be totally fine, but it's hard to keep any semblance of optimism when he sticks a halo headband onto your head. He's always adored forcing you into angel roles for degenerate "angel gets "tainted" by demon" fetishes, instructing you to keep up a sort of innocent persona throughout filming and even after. He calls it "type casting", that you're just so well suited to play dumb and pure.

Which, truthfully, you find a little ironic, given your life on earth, which was anything but pure. That you are anything but pure.

You aren't given much time to reflect, because within seconds, you're being ushered and shoved onto the prop bed, falling onto the satin sheets. You weakly sit up, looking up at the other actors, who begin to swarm around you, cameras pointing toward you, mics hovering above the bed and other actors. "Wait, I'm not—"

"Action!"

"Wait, I—" You plead, tugging the robe closer to yourself. "Wait, I'm not ready, can't I just—"

One demon steps forward, putting his large hand over your mouth and forcing your head down against the pillow. "Shut the fuck up." He growls out, climbing over you. You wince, taking rapid, shallow breaths. You try to relax into the sheets and just go along with it, as like every other time, it'll be over soon. But this time, for whatever reason, you can't seem to properly disassociate. "Goddamn angel. You think you're so high and mighty, huh? Better than us demon scum?" He taunts.

You know he's just acting— you know that. So why is it so fucking nauseating?

"Please- I need a second- I need—" You start again, struggling beneath him. Your gaze flickers over to Valentino who, to no one's surprise, does nothing and merely smiles perversely. A second actor steps forward, sticking his thumb in your mouth to shut you up.

"You talk too much," He taunts, forcing his index and middle fingers down your throat. You choke and you feel saliva pool around your bottom lip.

"CUT!"

Then, it stops. The actors step away from you and you jump on the chance to sit back up, coughing and wiping your mouth, rubbing off the drool that had started to dry on your chin.

It doesn't take long for you to realize that Valentino was not the one to halt the film, but rather Vox, who is now standing beside him. You readjust your robe, which had nearly been discarded by the other actors.

"Just what the fuck do you think you're doing?" Valentino demands, standing up from his chair to tower over Vox. Vox's eye twitches— or, rather, glitches.

"I need to borrow Y/N, and who knows how long you'd have kept them here?" He retorts, adjusting his bow tie and directing his attention toward you. "Why don't you head to your room and get dressed properly?"

"Don't you dare." Valentino snaps back at you, raising a hand. In a split second, a pink chain wraps itself around your throat and Valentino tugs at it, forcing you onto your knees. "Don't forget who owns them, Vox. If you want to fuck them, you're doing it on camera."

Vox scowls. "That's disgusting." He shudders, then clears his throat. "I simply need to have a conversation with them, Val. So get the hell over yourself and find someone else to fill the role, or film tomorrow." He steps toward you, grabbing your wrist and tugging you to your feet. Valentino seethes silently, but the collar around your neck disappears and you stumble forward into Vox.

Vox tugs you along, pushing you toward your dressing room. "Get dressed, I'll wait out here."

You enter the room, shutting and locking the door behind you. You sigh and slump against the door, rubbing your face. Once you're feeling a bit calmer, you approach the vanity and tug open the drawer, pulling out a small clear bag full of powder.

You throw it onto the vanity surface and tear a piece off of the newspaper that's been left on the seat. You roll it up and sigh, letting your head fall.

You'll get dressed in a second. Right now, you need something- anything- to chill the hell out. You've never felt that way during a shoot before, and you want to blame it on having an "off" day, but it feels like more than that.