Helluva Boss X Reader (Season 1)

CHAPTER 79: DOG FIGHT

[Trigger Warning]: This chapter gets quite dark. There's violence, some tough moments, and some things that might stir strong emotions. If you're in a difficult moment, read carefully or feel free to skip this chapter. Take care of yourself first.
———————————————————————————

A loud thud echoed, followed by the scraping of a chair, a guttural growl, and the hollow crack of a bottle breaking on the floor.

No one reacted. No one turned around. The bar exhaled violence as if it were its most natural way of breathing.

And yet, amidst the constant background noise, one figure stood out for its stillness.

Hunted over the bar, body tilted and ears lowered, a gray-coated hellhound stared into the bottom of an empty bottle as if she could still find something there. But there wasn't.

A thick, greasy stench had seeped into her fur since she'd entered: stale sweat, cheap tobacco, burnt weed, fermented liquor, and something else—something sour, damp, unmistakably decadent. But Loona didn't try to get away from it. She let it wash over her.

Every time the jukebox spat out a new, static-saturated chord, her ears twitched involuntarily. It was stuck to the wall like an electrical tumor, surrounded by dried stains that looked like scars from a place too old to remember what clean looked like.

The lights flickered with a faint hum, yellow neon lights hanging from twisted wires like dead insects caught in cobwebs. One of those lights reflected in her dull, lifeless pupils.

She had stopped looking around. There was nothing worth seeing.

Just the same old faces.

Demons twisted and lost.

One was snorting lines of cocaine on a table that felt sticky to the touch. Another group was betting with low grunts, accompanied by empty cups and blatant cheating. In one corner, two Imps were fighting like rats in a sewer. No one was stopping them.

Loona wasn't fazed. She didn't blink. With automatic movements, she brought the bottle to her lips. The liquid was strong. It stung. But it didn't burn. Not the way she needed it.

She swallowed every last drop.

And when there was nothing left but glass and silence, she let out a soft growl from her chest and slammed the bottle against the bar.

Loona: Another one.

Her voice ripped through the thick air of the bar like splintered glass.

The bartender, a young hellhound with golden fur and floppy ears, looked at her from across the bar.
Curiosity, fear, and a touch of pity flashed through his eyes in an instant. He swallowed, gathering his courage to answer.

Bartender: Uh... I think—

He didn't finish.

Loona bolted upright, pushing the stool back with her legs. She leaned toward the boy until her snout was almost touching his.

Loona: Oh, let me guess... Have I had enough? I've never heard that one before!

Her claws gripped the bar like anchors, more for balance than intimidation.

The young bartender instinctively backed away, but not far enough to escape the glare Loona was giving him.

Loona: This is my fucking life and I'm going to live it however the fuck I want. So stay out of it. And give me another bottle.

The bartender trembled. He wanted to speak, but the words caught in his throat as if they wouldn't come out.

Bartender: I-I... I was going to say... that you've already spent a-all your b-bills...