Caught in the Butterfly's Web (Hazbin Hotel x (y/n)

Skin Deep Beauty

(Y/n) stretched lazily as she woke, blinking sleepily in the soft morning light filtering through the curtains. She reached out instinctively, expecting to find Alastor's comforting presence beside her, but the spot was empty. Frowning, she sat up, scanning the room and noticing a neatly folded piece of paper on the bedside table.

Curious, she reached for it, unfolding the note with a small smile as she recognized Alastor's elegant handwriting. As she read his words explaining his early departure for a morning stroll, she couldn't help but feel a twinge of disappointment at his absence. However, she understood his need for solitude and appreciated his thoughtfulness in leaving her a message.

Setting the note aside, (y/n) swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stretched, relishing the peacefulness of the moment. She resolved to make the most of the quiet morning and decided to start her day with a shower, eagerly anticipating Alastor's return to join her for breakfast.

As the warm water cascaded over her, (y/n) closed her eyes, letting the soothing sensation wash away the remnants of sleep. Yet, as she lathered her skin with soap, memories of past traumas began to resurface, invading her thoughts like unwelcome intruders.

Images flashed before her mind's eye, scenes of dark alleys and sinister encounters that had left scars, it made her feel filthy. A shiver ran down her spine as she recalled the times she had been preyed upon, the moments of violation and helplessness that still haunted her.

Frustration, disgust and anger surged within her, fueling her movements as she scrubbed at her skin with increasing fervor. Each swipe of her hands felt like an attempt to erase the memories etched into her very being, to rid herself of the stains left by those who had dared to lay a hand on her.

The water turned cooler, unnoticed by (y/n) as she remained lost in her thoughts, the sound of her own harsh breathing mingling with the steady rhythm of the falling water. Eventually, as her skin tingled with rawness and her muscles grew tense from the exertion, she forced herself to stop, her hands trembling slightly as she turned off the shower.

Stepping out of the stall, (y/n) wrapped herself in a towel, her body still trembling with the aftershocks of her emotional turmoil.

After drying herself off, (y/n) stood before the mirror, her reflection a stark reminder of the internal battle she had just fought. With a sigh, she pushed aside the tumult of emotions threatening to overwhelm her and focused on the task at hand: dressing for the day ahead.

Surveying her wardrobe, she bypassed the sleeveless tops and opted instead for a long-sleeved dress, its fabric flowing elegantly as she slipped it over her frame. The deep crimson hue of the dress complemented her scarlet hair, and she couldn't help but appreciate the way it concealed the rawness of her skin.

Next came the makeup, a ritual she had perfected over the years to mask the imperfections she wished to hide from the world. With practiced precision, she applied foundation to even out her complexion and concealer to camouflage any remaining blemishes. A touch of blush added a rosy flush to her cheeks, while mascara and eyeliner accentuated her eyes, hiding the shadows of sleepless nights.

As she studied her reflection once more, (y/n) couldn't shake the sense of shame that lingered beneath the surface. Despite her outward appearance of confidence and poise, she knew that her beauty was only skin deep, a facade that concealed the scars of her past.

With a heavy sigh, (y/n) stood in the kitchen, her gaze shifting between the bottle of wine and the coffee maker. In that moment of indecision, she yearned for something to dull the ache that gnawed at her insides, a temporary reprieve from the weight of her own thoughts.

Ultimately, she reached for the wine, the deep crimson liquid a tempting promise of oblivion. Pouring herself a glass, she took a seat at the kitchen table, the cool surface offering a fleeting sense of comfort as she settled in with a fashion magazine.