Romans & histoires Velvet Cosplay Hazbin Hotel

“We make a good team, Hazel. Now let’s go get ready before the guests and the kids arrive.” I rushed upstairs and took a shower. I didn't feel like letting my hair free, so I packed it up in a ponytail. I searched through my wardrobe for the perfect attire for the party, and I laid my eyes on a leather jumpsuit. The theme of the party was Heroes and Villains. The jumpsuit would make the perfect attire. I bought cat ears at the store and a glue mask. I wore the jumpsuit and attached the cat ears to my hair, then glued the mask to my face.

Azrael and Astria, my precious babies, are lying on the bed, looking adorable in their outfits. Azrael, my little gentleman, is dressed in a miniature suit that makes him look uncannily like his father, Hades. He exudes a sense of maturity, despite his tender age. His dark hair is perfectly messy, and his bright eyes sparkle with mischief. Astria, my tiny princess, is a vision in pink. Her dress accentuates her dark curls, making them pop against her porcelain skin. She looks like a ballerina, ready to twirl across the stage. Her eyes shine with excitement, and I can sense her eagerness to explore.

Tristan is only my stepfather, right? So what are they cutting about? Another voice that’s not Tristan’s chirp in. “Ah, there you are. Fine as they say, indeed.” A man in a corset and leather shorts scurries in with an entourage of men dressed in silk pants and crop tops. They holler in unison. “Hello, darling. We are the Velvet boys. Sculptors of perfection. We’ll glow you up to Pakhan's preference. Say glam and start?” I blink, once, twice. “Huh?”

They arrived hand-in-hand at a charity luncheon for industry insiders, an event Veronica had been conveniently invited to. Celeste wore red. Power red. Blood red. The color of war. Her dress clung to her like it was painted on, the neckline just daring enough to start rumors, the back open enough to invite stares. Her chin was lifted high as she stepped into the main hall, Damien at her side, sharp in a black-on-black tailored suit that screamed lethal elegance. The buzz of whispers hit instantly. Flashes. Phones. Every eye tracking their steps. And then, there she was, Veronica Hale. Flawless. Serpentine. Standing near the bar, sipping champagne like she'd already won.

Damon snapped at him and before Snarl could respond, the alpha-in-waiting had grabbed hold of his shoulders to shake him into silence. “Would you shut up with your babbling?” In the next moment, the bedroom door was yanked open and Hazel appeared, changed into a pair of black jean shorts and a blue silk vest top with lace straps. Her eyes were round with fear and clearly she had heard him gushing. Both of them looked at Damon expectantly, even though the alpha-in-waiting was standing so that he could only see Snarl.

Celeste By the time I'm done with my makeup, I feel like danger. A femme fatale that isn’t to be messed with. My face is caked in foundation, the skin around my eyes a lot darker than they used to be. My lips are blood red, contrasting sharply with my black hair. I twirl in front of the mirror, and only then did I realise that this makeup looks too familiar. It reminds me of Valerie. This is the exact look she went with on Alpha Kai’s welcome party into the council. I know because I had photographed her to send to Vivienne.

Celeste: “Tempting, but the quarry already has dibs on tonight for Atlantean 101. No room for a shoe funeral.” Seras leans between the seats. Seras: “New rule: the new pair has to be even louder than the old ones.” Kayo holds up her phone. Kayo: “I found a customizer online who’ll dye them any color and embroider whatever you want. My vote: black with tiny glowing tridents that only show up underwater.” I grin. Celeste: “Sold.” We spend an hour picking the exact shade (deep storm-cloud purple with a faint shimmer that shifts to ocean teal when the light hits it).

The music thumped softly through the walls of the downtown loft, a low, sensual bass that made every step feel like a heartbeat. The afterparty was invite only, exclusively for the underground cosplay elite where latex, silk, and fantasy collided behind closed doors. Camille stood by the drink table, dressed in a crimson villainess bodysuit that barely hid her curves. Her thigh-high boots clung to her like a second skin, and the black leather gloves gave her the sharp allure of a femme fatale. Her deep red lipstick matched her mood: hungry.