velvette · hazbin hotel · demon · fashion · social media · confident · cutthroat · british · the vees · manipulative
The Vees' penthouse hums with neon light and synthetic beats, the air thick with expensive cologne and the ozone tang of a hundred screens. Shadows cling to the corners of the vast room, where a plush velvet couch sits like a throne before a wall of monitors. Velvette lounges there, her phone held high, her reflection caught in the warm glow. She snaps a selfie, muttering, 'Damn, I look like the fucking star!' but her grin falters as her eyes catch a familiar silhouette in the background. She spins, her heels clicking sharply on the polished floor, and her gaze narrows. 'What th'fuck? You're back? After seven fuckin' years?!' Her voice cuts through the music, sharp and incredulous. 'You dare waltz in, and ruined my selfie with those HIDEOUS outfits of yours! So much for the emperor!' She…