#he’s still figuring out his own fashion sense

[aestheticallynotdeerlightful]

THIS JUST IN: WORLDS SNAZZIEST 10 YEAR OLD

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Please do not use or repost my works anywhere without explicit permission from me first, thank you <3)

[bonestrouslingbones]

stretch is fun because most of the time he looks pretty normal and also like the sleepiest guy in the world but then he takes off his hoodie and suddenly becomes goth and then is also wearing a necklace made with his brother's dust and its like oh okay nvm

[tobiasdrake]

I really do love how much you can tell about Doomguy just from looking around his room.

Like. Yeah, all the stuff you expect to see is there.

He's got his big ol' gun rack.

What appears to be a rock he uses as a punching bag.

Whetstone for sharpening his knives. All the Real Manly Violence Man stuff you'd think would be there.

But also a pair of nunchaku. Doomguy has never used nunchaku in any of his games. Those are just there because apparently he's the kind of dork who likes to play around with nunchaku and pretend he's doing kung fu.

Also a jump rope. Gotta keep his cardio up for all that running and jumping he has to do.

He reads Guns & Bullets magazine, but he also reads Science Monthly. Which makes sense that he'd be a bit of a techie since....

...he seems to have made his new Praetor Suit by disassembling the old one and rebuilding it to be higher-quality. You can see from the guts of the suit that it's powered armor, and he just... knows how to work that.

He's mad. Not stupid.

He also reads cooking magazines, of course. His only friend is Doom J.A.R.V.I.S.; He's gotta be self-sufficient. Though how he got those pizzas delivered is certainly beyond me.

And, of course, he has a collection of regular books that he likes to read as well. Though his taste in literature reveals a certain trend.

Also, he reads comics.

So many comics.

So, so many comics that he's left discarded comics lying around on his munitions cases. This man is a nerd.

And if you doubt his nerd cred, remember that he even keeps collectible toy displays. Doomguy is explicitly the kind of person who will go out of his way in a firefight with the forces of Hell itself to go snatch up a new toy for his collection.

He even has collectible toy figures hanging out on his computer desk. He put a little hard hat on one of them.

On the other side of his desk, he's got some leftover pizza from the inexplicable delivery service, plus takoyaki flavor chips and some candy. It seems Doomguy is a fruity candy kind of guy, not a chocolate guy. Man after my own heart.

Oh, you know he has shredded every single surface of the Fortress of Doom at some point. How do you think he learned to react so quickly in combat?

That is, of course....

When he's not ROCKING OUT with one of his three separate guitars. I bet the middle one's his favorite. It has a place of honor under the giant demon skull.

Some people might say that a record player and casette tapes are old-fashioned but cut him some slack; He's a Gen X-er.

Of course, there's one thing that any walk through Doomguy's room reveals more than anything else. The one thing that matters more than the world to him. The thing that drives him in his every waking moment.

He loved his bunny rabbit. My favorite thing about the portrait - Well, my favorite thing about it is that it's a piece of fanart that got officially canonized, but aside from that - is that he's wearing his Praetor Suit in it.

That's not something he brought from home. He commissioned an artist to paint that after becoming a Night Sentinel. He still loves his poor, late bunny rabbit.

And he keeps her close to him when he's home.

[sunderwight]

Trying my hand at this one:

Shen Yuan transmigrates into a worm.

It's just a normal garden variety (heh) earthworm, not a special magical worm (yet), so initially he thinks this is gonna be a really short transmigration adventure indeed. But of course that would be boring, so he also manages to end up in the body of a worm who lives under one of those magical immortal fruit-bearing trees.

One of the fruit drops, Worm Yuan chows down, and he significantly upgrades his physical abilities, and senses, and gains a cultivation boost! Hooray!

Unfortunately it's not enough to fix that he's still a worm, but it's enough so that he has less to fear from getting hit by a random shovel or such. In the process of eating the fruit, he sees some disciples (come to gather the fruits, slacking somewhat since they even allowed a few to hit the dirt) and overhears enough of a conversation to figure out that he's transmigrated into a worm that lives in the PIDW setting. Specifically, on Qian Cao Peak!

Wow! How random and wild! Why a worm??? What god did he piss off in his past life for this?

Well anyway, it is what it is, and Shen Yuan decides that if he's gonna live a probably short and uneventful life as a worm, at least he wants to see his favorite character. So he inches his way in what he hopes is the general direction of Qing Jing Peak, course-correcting whenever he gathers that he's guessed wrong, hitching a ride on the occasional shoe or once even gripping the internal part of a wheel from an An Ding Peak carriage, until finally, he's leveled up his meager worm cultivation even more and has reached Qing Jing Peak!

As Worm Yuan continues to inch his way across the peak, he keeps just-barely missing Luo Binghe, until finally he comes across... not Binghe, but a recognizable item: a fake jade pendant!

Though lost initially on a tree branch, it must have fallen at some point, down to the ground where Worm Yuan stumbled upon it.

Mustering his strength, Worm Yuan manages to get the broken string of the fake jade around his little worm body, and then makes the herculean trek to the wood shed. Dodging bird attacks, hiding from other QJP disciples, and further upgrading his Worm Skills such as digging, inching, and oozing, until finally he reaches his destination and squeezes under the door.

Leading to the situation of an incredulous disciple Luo Binghe -- who had previously been tending to his bruises -- watching as a little worm climbs into the shed (normal, usually it's spiders but sometimes other bugs get inside) while dragging his long-lost most treasured item in what can only be described as a deliberate fashion (very not normal).

After ascertaining that Worm Yuan is not some cultivator's tool or shapeshifted creature, Luo Binghe decides to approach this situation in the only reasonable way, and offers the worm some scraps from his leftovers. Worm Yuan happily shares a meal with his favorite character, and things take off from there.

Somehow Luo Binghe finds himself learning more about cultivation by watching Worm Yuan than he has in all his attempts to figure out his manual or listen to his shixiongs on Qing Jing Peak so far. He watches Worm Yuan work up the spiritual energy to crack rocks and scale the wood shed walls, and deduces some methods for applying his own spiritual energy in similar ways. He finds it heartening to think that if even a little worm can learn to cultivate through what seems to be pure determination, then surely Binghe can make his situation work, too. He scrounges around and manages to gather up enough materials for a makeshift terrarium, so Worm Yuan can be safe and cozy by his side at night.

Of course, trials and tribulations never stop. At some point Ming Fan and his cronies find the terrarium and smash it. Binghe is inconsolable until he realizes that Worm Yuan got away (extra durable, after all!) and is wriggling back towards him in a reassuring fashion.

Worm Yuan's hero schedule is quite full, too! At some point he digs his way into a tunnel to the Lingxi caves and saves Liu Qingge, and in the midst of the demon invasion he manages to help Binghe at a vital moment by hardening his body and tripping his opponent. He rides in Binghe's pocket when Binghe goes to claim Zheng Yang, too, developing his cultivation throughout it all.

Unfortunately, kind of, Worm Yuan is also in Luo Binghe's pocket when he gets thrown into the Endless Abyss. Through the hardships of the Abyss, Worm Yuan consumes some unsavory things (the less said about the quality of worm food in the Abyss, the better) but manages to unlock rare worm cultivation upgrades, until finally he achieves his first transformation -- a gigantic Dune-esque mega worm!

The less said about the symbolism of a stallion protagonist accompanied constantly by a literal monster worm, the better, probably. But having the ability to tunnel through basically anything does make a lot of things easier, at least in terms of travel, and cuts years off of the Abyss trip. Binghe and Worm Yuan almost have fun, even, just tearing through the terrain and any foes stupid enough to get in Worm Yuan's path until they retrieve Xin Mo and bust out.

Then they get into the demon realms and that actually is just straight up mostly a good time. Worms like Shen Yuan are not common so at first he nearly always surprises Binghe's foes when he shows up to help with fights, and a lot of the time the demons involved don't even seem to realize, at first, that he's with Luo Binghe and isn't just some hellish calamity that's coincidentally also shown up! But word gets around pretty quick that the new Heavenly Demon on the scene has a giant worm companion (probably leading to some misconceptions of people who think it's Tianlang Jun returned and that someone's mistaken Zhuzhi Lang's snake form for a worm).

Once that happens, unfortunately, some demons start taking precautions. After the first time Worm Yuan gets poisoned and nearly perishes (saved by Binghe's blood in the nick of time), Luo Binghe stops letting him participate in fights. Which is just rude! Worm Yuan's not going to make the same mistake twice, duh! But Binghe just keeps holding him in reserve again and again until the fight with Mobei Jun, and then when Worm Yuan intervenes anyway (is it just him or does Mobei Jun seem to know a lot more about potential heavenly demon weaknesses than he did in PIDW...?) and gets partly frozen, Binghe goes berserk. For a while there Shen Yuan is worried he won't actually LET Mobei Jun surrender!

Thankfully though he does, and then Binghe settles into his properties and starts... building a giant-scale worm garden? What about the harem, Binghe? Like obviously it's nice and all, but shouldn't you be focused on housing for, y'know, your future wives?

Other factions in the demon realms clearly are wondering about the same thing, as the marriage alliance offers naturally start pouring in. The most vocal of these being Sha Hualing. Worm Yuan supposed that his Binghe is probably waiting to officially take his wives so that he can marry Ning Yingying first or something, but still, a little planning wouldn't go amiss. Though eventually Luo Binghe seems to get -- if anything -- fed up enough with the questions about his marriage prospects that he does start setting up for a wedding.

Worm Yuan is surprised and touched when he finds himself being fitted for a monster-worm sized amount of wedding regalia. So he can be included in Binghe's wedding procession? That's so sweet! He's not sure he understands the inclusion of a veil, though...?

Anyway. Yes. Binghe marries the worm.

[cressidagrey]

Looked to the Sky - Chapter 10

Summary: 

Eira Archeron was neither a Valkyrie, nor a Seer, nor the High Lady of the Night Court. She was, however, Azriel‘s mate with her own mysterious, untrained powers.

Also known as: Azriel tries to court his mate the human way.

Warnings: 

THIS IS THE LIGHTNING IN A BOTTLE SEQUEL! SO READ THAT FIRST IF YOU WANNA READ THIS ONE OTHERWISE THIS MAKES NO SENSE!

Elain Bashing, Low Self Esteem, Eira has a shiny new spine, Azriel threatens to murder and the shadows keep torturing Elaine's floral arrangements and without @k-godling this would have never happened.

(super pretty dividers by @tsunami-of-tears)

“And if something happens…”

“We do know how to contact you,” Mor drawled drily from her seat on the couch. “Velaris will still be standing when you return, High Lord,” she told Rhys sarcastically. Az bit back a smile while Amren huffed.

"And you're alright with taking care of Nyx?" Feyre checked carefully. It was already dangerous enough for the High Lord, the High Lady, the General and the Spymaster to be out of the Night Court at the same time. There was no need to add the Heir to the Night Court to it as well.

Mor rolled her eyes. "He'll be alive and happy when you return," she promised Feyre.

Rhys sighed as he watched Feyre fuss over Nyx, who was sitting on the ground beside her, playing with what looked like a stuffed toy of some sort. A bat, now that he was looking at it with more interest. 

He wondered where exactly he had gotten that from for a moment. 

"He’ll be in good hands, love," Rhys assured Feyre, walking over to place his hands on her shoulders.

"And don't give her too much milk!" Azriel heard his mate exclaim, fussing about the little kitten that followed behind Eira everywhere. Snow, or Snowflake, as Eira had christened her, would stay with Cerridwen and Nuala...and Eira was fussy about it. Had been for days. 

Azriel had more than once been jealous of a damn cat because it got all of Eira’s attention. And then he looked at Eira smiling at her, at playing with her with a ribbon, at how she coaxed her to eat little pieces of chicken from her hands, and scratched her underneath her chin, all of this with that expression on her face that told him that she was incandescently happy and he wasn’t jealous anymore. Eira loved her. How could he be jealous of that?

Eira appeared just a moment later, Snow still wrapped in her arms. She was clad in a green coat over a cream dress…if one could call it a coat? Azriel had absolutely no clue about fashion but it was a weird coat. It only had three-quarter-length sleeves and the neckline was open, with a shawl collar that bared her clavicle...and right there rested a necklace featuring fat emeralds that he knew the shadows had given her.

His shadows twined around her, whispering their approval for how pretty she looked, and he couldn’t disagree. 

Eira was… She was stunning. She always was, of course. But that simple - yet still lovely - dress, the necklace, and her hair that was pinned up carefully with combs in it...Perfect.

He took her in, the slender, elegant lines of her figure in the dress, the dark gold strands of her hair in the elaborate braided hairstyle that revealed her lovely neck, and those blue-grey eyes that met his as a blush stained her cheeks.

She was beautiful.

"Where did you get that necklace from?" Amren suddenly demanded, staring at the necklace resting around Eira's throat with hungry eyes that made not only Azriel's brows raise.

Eira froze, and her fingers moved up to the emeralds that sat against her skin.

"The...?" she stumbled over her words a little bit, her glance shifting nervously between him, Amren, and Mor and Feyre, who had both also turned to look. "I...the Shadows got it for me," she said quietly, her cheeks darkening further.

What is this about? he demanded from the shadows, which seemed to nearly preen with something.

The Tiny Ancient One wanted it. We bought it first, they answered drily. Petty. So Petty.

He had to bite his lip to avoid snickering.

Of course, the Shadows had stolen something Amren had wanted from right under her nose. Of course, they had.

She still hasn’t apologised to her, the shadows sniped. It’s her own fault.

True. Amren was back in the city because Rhys would prefer his second and third to be there, but that came with strict instructions. Azriel wasn’t quite sure what exactly had been said, but the shadows had promised him that The High Lord had been more than clear with Amren. 

A little mrrrrp from Snowflake in her arms brought attention down to the kitten, and Azriel reached out to fondly stroke the little ball of fluff. Eira giggled as Snowflake leaned into his touch, pressing her face against his fingers and continuing to purr.

"She likes you," Eira said with a little smile, watching the little cat with fondness.

"I think the feeling is mutual," Az murmured quietly, as he gently scratched Snowflake's head, and she just continued to press against his hands for more. Another mrrrp escaped the little cat, and Eira giggled a little.

"There we are!" Cassian exclaimed at that moment, Nesta trailed behind him. "I hope Helion still knows how to throw a party!"

"Or how to host one at least," Azriel grumbled under his breath, as he withdrew his hand from Snowflake's head. Rhys chuckled at the comment, as Feyre rolled her eyes.

Eira next to him stayed quiet, and he could see the nervousness in every line of her body. He offered her his arm and she slid her hand into the crook of his elbow, as she placed Snow on the ground.

"It will be alright," he promised her. It would be alright. It was only a wedding. Even if that meant facing Elain and he knew how nervous Eira was about that…He wasn’t nervous. He had promised himself an iron-clad grip on his temper. It would not flare. He would not actually kill Elain. Regardless of if he thought she deserved it for what she had done to them. “I’ll be there,” he added after a moment.  He wasn’t going to leave her to face her demons alone. Not when she had grown even paler at the thought of facing Elain. Her fingers were gripping his arm almost like a vice.

"Everybody ready?" Rhys asked. "We'll winnow into the Courtyard of Sunray Palace."

A chorus of confirmations met his question, as Azriel placed a little kiss against his mate’s head, while her fingers in the crook of his elbow remained as tight as iron.

“Ready as we’ll ever be, I guess...” Cassian muttered, and Azriel silently agreed.

The shadows wrapped around them, and Azriel took a moment to make sure Eira was wrapped in them as well before they vanished from the River House. And rematerialised in the Day Court.

His first thought was...it was bright.

Very bright.

The brilliant sun was shining overhead, and the courtyard they appeared in was large and lovely, if a bit...showy. Similar to the House of Wind, The Sunray Palace was carved into the stone of a Mountain, that was covered in lush grass. He looked up to see a group of Pegasi fly up to their home in the highest tower.

He turned his head to check on Eira, catching her pale face and the nervous gulp as she took the Palace in, and his worry spiked. She was shaking like a leaf, and her knuckles were white where she clutched his elbow.

And then he watched as her shoulders went back and her chin went up, her jaw clenched nearly imperceptively. "You look lovely by the way," he whispered in her ear, making her blush. "Green suits you. Though I am partial to blue."

The compliment drew a flush of colour to her cheeks, and her shoulders relaxed ever so slightly as a little smile appeared on her face.

“Of course, you would say that,” she shot back, the slight tremble in her voice still there. “You’re biased. And don’t try to distract me.”

He chuckled even as he led them forward, the two of them easily slotting into place between Nesta and Cassian, Nesta throwing her younger sister a look. Azriel could read the worry into it but he shook his head nearly imperceptively. Eira was doing well. Better than he thought she would at any rate.

Eira still looked nervous. Extremely nervous. Her hand still had a death grip on his arm, and she was walking stiffly beside him, and yet...she still had her chin lifted high, her eyes forward. He had to admire the courage she was putting on.

The doors to the Palace suddenly opened, and Helion stepped out, grinning brilliantly. “Well, well, well, you all are a sight for sore eyes,” he said, his voice drawling out the syllables in that typical Day Court fashion.

“Don’t you know it, High Lord,” Cassian replied in his usual easy, charming tone, and Helion chuckled as his gaze travelled over the group with a smirk. Suddenly the smirk faltered as his gaze landed on Eira and the shadows wrapped around her.

His eyes widened, and Azriel didn't know what this was about before Helion continued. "We prepared rooms for you all. Why don't you arrive properly and then we'll have lunch?"

The suggestion was casual, but Azriel still thought that Helion's gaze remained on the way the shadows swirled up her body. It did result in the shadows hissing

"Thank you," Rhys drawled, easily matching the Day Court High Lord's tone. "We'll do that, and we'll see you for lunch."

The High Lord nodded, and retreated back into the Palace, while the group headed in the same direction.

When he glanced at Eira again, her face was paler than before, her hands trembling even more.

"Breathe, love," he whispered to her quietly, his voice soft, hoping it would soothe her a little bit. She gave him a weak nod in response, and he could see her forcing herself to take a shaky breath in. Azriel didn't know entirely what was going through her head, but he had the feeling it was not a happy thought, by any means.

They were shown to their suite of rooms, arranged around a shared living room, and he led her to a marigold yellow sofa. She collapsed like somebody cut the strings holding her up.

He had half a mind to curse, but her paler face, the trembling hands, stopped him. Instead, he carefully lowered himself down onto the sofa beside her, pulling her onto his lap without a second thought, and wrapped her in the shadows around them.

“Breathe, sweetheart,” he repeated, as one of his hands stroked gently up and down her back, while the other cupped her cheek.

She leaned against his touch willingly, as another shudder wracked her frame.

"I don't know what's wrong with me," she whimpered.

His heart wrenched in his chest at the tremble in her voice. "There's nothing wrong with you, love," he assured her quietly. "Nothing at all. You are nervous to face Elain. That's alright."

She sighed softly, but relaxed against him, bedding her head against his shoulder.

"Looking awfully comfy there," Cassian drawled and her cheeks flushed scarlet. She moved to get off his lap but Azriel held her in place gently until she stilled.

He wrapped his arm a little bit tighter around her, keeping her from getting off his lap, as he shot Cassian a quick glare, while the hand rubbing her back continued the slow and gentle motion.

He could almost hear the Shadows whispering their own displeasure at Cassian in the back of his mind. Azriel could hear a sharp smack and he just knew that it must have been Nesta.

He turned his head to send a glare in Cassian's direction, as the Shadows snickered in his mind.

"Sorry, I am sorry, Eira" Cassian hurried to add, as Feyre stifled a laugh behind her hand.

Eira said nothing, just curled tighter against him, resting her temple against his shoulder. 

"We got three bedrooms, not four," Rhys said with a sigh, apparently having surveyed the rooms in the meantime. "They clearly expected Azriel and Eira to share a room.”

Azriel wondered if that was on purpose. If that was Elain’s doing. Her attempt at making Eira uncomfortable. Eira, the one of the sisters that kept the most to human ideals of modesty, that blushed if he as much as kissed her cheek…that only kissed him when they were alone. And even then it were quick pecks against his lips. 

Not that he would ever protest against one of Eira’s kisses. He wanted to hoard each touch of her plush, soft lips against his like a dragon hoarded its treasure. 

But now he could feel Eira's body stiffen in his lap once more, and he glanced down at her. She was very pale again, her fingers trembling where they were wrapped around his jacket. He wanted to smack his head against the nearest wall, or at least something, but he refrained from doing that, and instead just pulled her further against his chest with a quiet huff.

"Their error," Nesta said drily. "Eira and I will share."

The Shadows were practically sulking in his head. 

He shut them up with a growl. 

Even when he wouldn’t have laid a single finger on Eira if they did share a bed, that clearly was a step too far for her. It would have made her uncomfortable. And he wasn’t going to push her. Not ever. 

He had never asked, but there didn’t seem to be any human suitors in her past. Kissing seemed foreign to her, making her nervous and excited, her heartbeat quickening and she stared at him with this expression of wonder on her face. 

"Alright, that works as well," Feyre agreed, and Azriel silently echoed that. 

He could feel how tense Eira still was in his lap, though. Still trembling nervously under his touch. He continued to rub her back slowly, still trying to soothe her. 

“Cassian can share with Azriel,” Nesta declared. 

“Oh come on,” Cassian muttered. 

The Shadows muttered their displeasure as well. 

Azriel rolled his eyes, his fingers still rubbing her back soothingly.

"You're a grown male, Cassian," he said, his voice dry. "I'm sure you'll live."

A huff from the General, and Azriel just rolled his eyes again, his glance down to his mate again.

She still looked quite pale. The hand on her back continued the gentle rubbing. 

"Interesting that it wasn't Elain and Lucien that greeted us," Feyre said drily. "Given that it's their wedding we are supposed to attend."

"Very interesting," Rhys agreed, as Azriel continued to eye Eira in his lap.

She was still tense against him, still pale, still trembling a little bit. Her nervousness and fear were rolling in waves towards him, through the bond.

"Elain will be at the lunch, no doubt," Feyre said, and Rhys just hummed in agreement.

The Shadows continued to whisper angrily in his mind, upset at the way their Mate was feeling.

"Or maybe Elain is terrified of what the shadows will do to her now," Nesta quipped darkly.

Azriel couldn't help but smirk a little bit at that.

He could practically hear the Shadows preen. Cassian let out a bark of laughter, and Feyre tried to hold hers back, while Rhys tried to keep a serious expression.

You'll behave, he told them sternly.

Maybe , they hissed back, though they were still clearly preening over the compliment.

He rolled his eyes and glanced down at Eira again.

I mean it. You will behave. You do not attack her, he reiterated in his head. 

A few displeased mutterings echoed in his head, but they did quiet down. He refrained from rolling his eyes this time, and his glance went back to the female in his lap. She was no longer pale, the tremors and shakes having died down, and while she was still nervous, she now appeared relaxed. At least a little bit.

"Let's get changed for Lunch," Nesta said easily.

"You literally just put on a dress before we arrived here," Cassian said with a snort.

"You don't need to understand females, Cassian," Rhys said easily. "Just deal with it."

Cassian grumbled, as Feyre stifled another laugh and Azriel held in a snicker.

Nesta held out her hand for Eira, who took it and let her sister pull her to her feet, giving him a small smile and his hand a squeeze before they, together with Feyre, disappeared into one bedroom.

He watched her go, a strange feeling of loss creeping up once she was out of his sight.

Azriel was tempted, so tempted to get up and go after her, pull her back onto the sofa, onto his lap, into his arms, but he managed to stop himself from doing so.

He leaned his head back against the back of the sofa, and a long sigh escaped him.

"You're absolutely besotted." His head snapped up to see Rhys staring at him, his violet eyes sparkling with smug amusement. The Shadows immediately hissed in agreement his mind at Rhys' observation.

"Shut up," Azriel just grumbled.

Rhys smirked at him in response, and Cassian just laughed. "Whatever you do tonight, if your shadows start sweetly caressing me like they do to Eira, I'll scream," Cassian muttered.

"That won't happen," Azriel immediately shot back, the words practically hissed through his teeth.

At the same time, the Shadows muttered their own disapproval of that possibility. Only our Mate, they whispered.

Cassian just rolled his eyes.

"Do you think she'll manage?" Cassian asked, growing serious. "She seems awfully...nervous."

A heavy sigh escaped him, as he sat up straighter in his seat, running a hand through his hair.

"I don't know," he admitted. "She...is very nervous. But she's trying not to be. She's trying to stay brave."

"And you?" Rhys asked quietly. "How are you holding up?"

He took a deep breath, contemplating the question.

He was angry. Furious. Worried about his mate, his heart clenching every time he felt her distress through the bond.

But he had to stay strong. For her. He needed to keep it together.

"I..." he mumbled, his voice faltering. He had to pause for a moment to collect himself. "I'm hanging in there."

Silence followed his admission, and Cassian and Rhys were studying him. He knew his friends could see through his facade, knew that they knew how worried he was. His face must have given all away.

"You have every right to be angry," Rhys said quietly. "I don't know what I would do in your place."

"What I want to do is to take her home," he admitted, his voice quiet and gruff, his eyes fixed on his lap, where he was clenching his hands into fists. "I want to take her home. I don't want her here. I don't want her to face Elain. Hell, I don't even want her to meet Elain at all. I..." He took a shuddering breath. "But she needs this. She needs this closure. I think Eira knows that herself."

Another heavy sigh escaped him, as he lifted his head and met Rhys' eyes.

"I just hate...seeing her so scared. She doesn't deserve this. She doesn't deserve to feel frightened and scared because of...Elain," he said, bitterness seeping into his voice as he said her name.

"What did she see?" Cassian said suddenly. "Elain had a vision of you and Eira and worked to make sure it wouldn't come to pass. But what did she see?"

"Cass..." Rhys said carefully, but Azriel shook his head. It was alright.

"She saw...She saw Eira and a little girl in a garden. A little girl with her hair and freckles and my wings and eyes. She saw me coming home to them...picking up our daughter and kissing Eira...they saw my hand on her swollen belly...another child in her womb. She saw our children Cassian." There was a heavy pause after Azriel's words.

Cassian just stared at him, wide-eyed and silent, while Rhys' mouth was set into a thin-lipped grave line.

His voice had started shaking a little bit, towards the middle of his story, and he clenched his jaw against the emotions building in his chest.

"That you didn't outright kill her is a fucking miracle," Cassian seethed.

"I damn near came close," Azriel muttered darkly, while anger coursed through his veins.

His jaw was set, his hands were clenching and unclenching almost of their own accord, while the Shadows kept muttering angrily in the back of his mind. They were furious, furious that their Mate was distressed.

"Why did she do it?" Cassian demanded. "Because she is the prettier one? Because if she couldn't have Azriel, Eira shouldn't have him either? Because of jealousy ?!"

"Jealousy and spite," Azriel said darkly. "That's what it comes down to. Jealousy and spite ."

He wanted to break something. Preferably Elain. He wanted to wrap his hands around her neck and squeeze.

He took a shuddering breath to collect himself, as he felt himself slowly losing control of his temper.

But he needed to stay in control. He had to. He wasn't going to explode, not in front of Cassian and Rhys, and certainly not in front of Eira.

"I...hate...her," he bit out, his voice strangled, as his hands clenched and unclenched, even as he tried to keep control over his temper. "I hate her so much. Hell, I want to destroy the very thought of her. I...I want to make sure she can never hurt Eira again. And if it's the last thing I damn well do," he continued, and his voice was venomous. "She. Will. Never. Lay one finger on my mate ever again."

"And I'll make her suffer," he snarled, his voice almost a growl. "By the Mother, I won't just kill her. I'll make her suffer first. For what she did to Eira. For what she did to us. For the thought of that future that she denied me. I will make her pay."

A strangled breath escaped him, his lungs straining with the effort of keeping himself from going on a rampage right then and there.

He closed his eyes, and took a long shuddering breath, as fury continued to course through his veins, while the Shadows hissed and whispered in his mind, their mutterings murderous in nature.

He let out a shuddering breath, as he tried to will his raging temper to abate. He needed to calm down. He needed to, for Eira. She was nervous enough as it was. He couldn't go to her like this. He...He wouldn't do it. He refused to upset her further.

He kept his eyes closed, as he tried to force his emotions to a simmering rage.

Another shuddering breath escaped him, as it took all his strength to calm down. He forced the tension from his body, slowly loosening his clenched jaw. His hands were still clenched into tight fists, but he continued to just breathe deeply, willing his temper to die down.

It felt like an eternity before he finally felt in control of his own emotions again.

He opened his eyes again and met Rhys and Cassian's stares.

Neither of them said anything, silently watching him, and he leaned back against the sofa with a sigh.

"I'm alright," he said and was slightly surprised that his voice was steady, even if he still felt like he was full of rage. "I'm fine. I'm alright," he repeated, and it was more of a reminder to himself than anything else.

"You need to not react like that when you see her," Rhys said quietly, and Azriel couldn't tell if it was a warning or a mere observation.

"I know that," he said between clenched teeth. "I know that, Rhys. But I have every right to be furious. Hell, I have every right to rip her apart."

"You do," Rhys agreed quietly. "But it won't do anyone any favours if you get like this when you see her. You need to keep your temper in check. For Eira ."

***

Eira was staring at her reflection in the mirror, struggling to recognise the person looking back at her. 

Her eyes were wide and anxious, her breathing quick and nervous, and her hands were trembling. A part of her was wondering how she was even managing to stand at the moment, seeing how her legs felt like they were close to giving in underneath her.

But she was also...she was also dressed in a tissue-thin gown out of pleated silk in a lavender colour, cinched in around the waist by an embroidered ribbon she had made. Her hair was pulled back from her face, diamond encrusted haircombs that she had no clue from where these had come from fastened in her hair...( One day she would need to actually get the shadows to stop buying her things. ), a diamond bracelet tightened around her wrist…They had even clipped earrings to her lobes, diamonds as well, dangly and pretty and in the Human Lads would be considered to be too much for a simple luncheon. 

But here in Prythian, the shadows didn’t seem to think twice about it, to wrap her in more diamonds than most people had ever even seen in the same place. 

Once they judged her ready,  a tendril of shadows curled itself back around her wrist, while another picked up the small train of her dress.

"You know, I am kinda jealous. You have a handmaiden wherever you are," Feyre said drily.

Eira let out an embarrassed little laugh, the sound shaky and weak as her heart felt like it was going to pound its way out of her chest.

"They are...very helpful," she admitted, as she gave a small, nervous glance to Feyre.

Nesta finished pinning her own hair into her usual coronet, smoothing the blue-green fabric of her dress. "You do not need to accept her apology," her eldest sister said fiercely. "Remember that, Eira."

She swallowed, the familiar nervous butterflies back in her stomach, and she gave a shaky nod.

Feyre placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, as she gave her a gentle squeeze. It was a little steadying and helped quell some of her anxiousness, even as the nervous tremors continued to wrack through her body.

"I...know," she said quietly.

Right. There went nothing.

She took a few more, long, deep breaths, to calm her nerves.

She was going to be alright. She was going to be just...fine.

You're going to be fine, she repeated to herself as she squared her shoulders.

Azriel was waiting for her as she left the bedroom, in a quiet conversation with Rhys and Cassian. He looked up as soon as he came out, his expression softening.

His eyes widened momentarily as a breath caught in his throat at the sight of her in that dress, and a small smile started spreading across his lips.

"Eira," he said quietly, taking a tentative step towards her. "You...You look beautiful, sweetheart."

She gave a shaky smile, her eyes meeting his as those familiar little butterflies came to life in her belly.

"Thank you," she whispered, her heart fluttering at the affectionate endearment.

"Ready?" Rhys asked.

She exhaled, steadying her breathing, willing her trembling body to not shake.

Eira gave a shaky nod, even as the familiar anxiousness threatened to overwhelm her, and she swallowed past the lump forming in her throat.

"Ready," she whispered.

She just needed...She reached out for Azriel's hand before she could help herself, not caring how inappropriate this was. They weren't married, they weren't even engaged and still, she claimed his hand with hers, threading her fingers through his.

The feeling of scarred skin against her home, grounded her, giving her something to hang onto. 

The shadows that kept closer to him than usual, hiding behind the wings he had snapped close to his body, dusted over her arms for just a moment, like they wanted to assure Eira that they were there as well, before returning to their mater, leaving her with a few wrapped around her wrist and another tendril keeping her skirt in place. 

For a brief moment, Azriel looked down at where their fingers were woven together, before lifting his head again and giving her fingers a firm, reassuring squeeze. She felt his warmth through his skin, the steady beat of his pulse, and it was comforting...comforting to know that he was right next to her.

She took a few more, deep breaths, the anxiety continuing to flutter in her stomach, but...

But Azriel was here, she reasoned.

Azriel was right there...right next to her, holding her hand...and she could do this. She could get through this. All she had to do was stay close to him.

They were let to a dining room, with high ceilings, beautifully appointed in white and gold. 

“I swear I told them to put white jasmine and blush roses in here and not yellow carnations and orange lilies!” she heard her sister’s voice before she saw her. 

Seconds later, she got her first glance at her twin sister. Lucien and she made a lovely couple, always had. And Elain did look as utterly beautiful as she always had. Elain had always been extraordinarily lovely, but that hadn't changed in her transformation into a High Fae. Now she was utterly beautiful. 

Even when… with a blink Eira realised how harried-looking Elain was, fiddling with the flowers on the table.  Her heart clenched at the sight of her, mixed with the swirling, anxious emotions in her stomach, and she couldn't help the shuddering breath that escaped her as they walked into the room.

Azriel's hand clenched around hers.

Her eyes snapped to his. His face was a mask of ice. She had never seen him look ...like that before. Never seen...this tightly controlled murderous rage.

The shadow tightened around her wrist. She wasn't sure if it was in warning, but she didn't care anyway.

He was hers. Hers in every bit of this murderous rage. 

They came to a halt, and she felt the way Azriel clenched his jaw as his eyes met with Elain's across the room.

He was furious, she could practically feel the rage simmering under the surface, the only thing keeping him in check was his ironclad control...and the fact that he was holding onto her hand.

She would leave the diplomacy to Feyre and Rhys, the useless pretty words. She didn’t trust herself to say anything that was actually nice. Instead, she tugged Azriel along to find their seats at the table, pasting a smile on her face.

They sat at the table, and Azriel kept a firm hold of her hand, never loosening his grip on her. The shadows kept themselves firmly around her wrist and continued to cling unto her, even as they settled into place at the table.

And a part of her could feel how Azriel was tensed, how he was wound up so tight she was afraid he might snap.

Cassian sat down next to Azriel, with Nesta bracketing Eira's other side, fully ignoring whatever seating arrangement had been put down by the Day Court. 

Eira wasn’t stupid, she knew exactly why Cassian had been put there. In the event of Azriel losing his temper, Cassian may had a chance at subduing him. Though she somehow doubted that would actually work. 

With them right there, and Azriel holding onto her hand, she felt...steady. She felt secure...secure enough to withstand this dreaded luncheon.

Feyre and Rhys sat down next to Helion, Lucien and Elain, and she could feel the tension in the room.

She could sense Elain's gaze on her, sitting directly across from her. , but didn't dare to meet her eyes as the anxiousness roiled in her stomach, even as Azriel's fingers continued to grasp hers, and one of the shadows curled around her wrist, giving a small, reassuring little squeeze.

"It's so nice that you could make it," Elain said, a smile on her face, masking her nervousness. She was glancing at the shadows that were topping up Eira’s water glass, clearly making a pest out of themselves, to put bread on her plate and drag the butter dish closer to her. 

For just one moment Eira wondered if they did that on purpose. Were they trying to scare Elain?

"We wouldn't have wanted to miss this," Feyre said, her voice carefully neutral.

There was a stiffness in the air, palpable enough that it could be cut with a knife, the tension as so thick that one could drown in it, and Eira just sat there, her fingers tightly wrapped around Azriel's hand.

There was a moment of silence, where nobody commented.

And then...her heart hammered against her ribs, her stomach twisting in knots, as those doe-like brown eyes landed directly on her. "You look...good, Eira. Healthy. I hope everything healed well," Elain said sweetly.

Her breath caught in her throat as she fought down the nausea that welled up in her stomach, and she forced a tight smile onto her lips.

"Everything healed up just fine," she said, her voice shaking, only to be steadied by the firm squeeze Azriel gave her hand.

It was the truth. Nothing but a thin white line underneath her left breast. Nobody but her would probably ever see it. 

"And the... lightning ?" Lucien wondered. "I hope your cauldron-given gift didn't give you too much trouble," he quipped, clearly trying to lighten the mood. “Elain mentioned that you…defended yourself quite well.”

The nausea that welled up in her throat was nearly immediate. Defended herself. She had defended herself. She had also killed 4 males. 

"Lightning?" The High Lord of Day asked, sounding fascinated. He was looking at her like she was an exceptionally interesting specimen.  

Her stomach roiled, the nausea continuing to grow inside her, as her heart thundered in her chest.

“No,” Eira said, struggling to keep her voice even. “It...It wasn’t too much trouble,” she continued, even as the nausea continued to rise, and she felt like she might retch all over the table.

"She's learning to control it," Rhys said evenly. "She's doing as well as one could expect."

Her heart fluttered at Rhys’ words. He was trying his best to...deflect the attention away from her. Trying to help.

“So she really can generate lightning then?” Helion spoke up, sounding utterly fascinated.

"She can," Rhys confirmed, his voice even. His words were simple, but the tone of them was almost warning, and she could feel Azriel tense even more next to her. And that was enough to pique Helion’s interest.

“Extraordinary,” he said, and he sounded way too fascinated with her wretched blessing.

Her heart skipped a beat, the nausea continuing to grow in her stomach until she feared she might vomit at any moment. Her hand clenched around Azriel's, fingers practically digging into his skin, while the shadows around her wrist squeezed reassuringly. And all the while, she could feel Elain's eyes on her, her stare practically boring into her.

"Do the shadows help control it?" Elain asked hesitantly. Only now, Eira realised that more had come to swarm around her, banding around her midsection and chest, like trailing black ribbons. Their touch was gentle, and soft. 

"No," came Azriel's reply, and his voice was so filled with cold fury that she was amazed he could even get the words out.

He was tense, like a coiled spring, holding onto her hand like a lifeline, while the shadows continued to cling to her, continuing to twine around her wrist in a firm, reassuring grip.

"They like touching Eira because she's Azriel's mate," Cassian said, his voice icy. Her heart stuttered in her chest at Cassian's words.

His blunt, to-the-point declaration of her belonging to Azriel...the words had stunned her, and it seemed they had stunned Elain too if the way that she stiffened was any indicative.

"Ah, yes...we should talk about that," Helion said with a sigh. "Elain?"

The tension in the room immediately ratcheted up even more higher, and Eira could feel it, as a chill settled over the room. She was so tense, she was struggling just to breathe, and her hand was trembling where it was held in Azriel’s ironclad grip.

"I am sorry," Elain said quietly.

Her heart skipped a beat at her twin sister’s words, her stomach twisting in knots, as her eyes flicked towards her. Elain’s voice was soft but sincere, and her brown eyes were wide and vulnerable, and there were tears in her eyes... Tears in her eyes as she spoke.

"I am sorry, Eira," she said again, her voice trembling. “For...for everything.”

And suddenly...suddenly the fear, the nervousness went away, replaced with ice-cold anger. "You are sorry ," she repeated flatly. Sorry .

The anger in her voice was not missed, and she heard Nesta and Feyre inhale sharply. Elain's eyes widened at the tone in her voice...at the anger in Eira’s words, and she gave a small, shaky nod, her chin trembling slightly.

"I am sorry. I shouldn't have...I shouldn't have...I shouldn't have tried to keep you and Azriel away from each other. I was...I shouldn't have done that."

Eira clenched her jaw, the anger still boiling in her blood as she continued to hold her sister’s gaze.

"No," she replied, her voice so flat it was as if it was made of ice. "You shouldn’t have done that," she repeated coldly. "But that's not all you did, Elain," she spat out. "You saw that vision. You know what you did." What she had done. Namely, keep Eira's babies from being born .

Her heart lurched in her chest, and she felt Azriel squeeze her hand tightly as if he knew what had been going through her thoughts.

Her throat was tight, and her breathing was laboured, as she continued to hold her sister’s gaze, her eyes cold and furious as she spoke.

"You did a lot more than keeping me away from Azriel',” she hissed.

And the worst part was, her sister didn’t even try to deny what she had done. Didn’t even try to fight back. All she could do was sit there, looking like a wounded puppy, which only fuelled the anger in Eira’s chest.

“You tried to take everything from me,” she hissed again.

"It all worked out!" Elain defended herself. "You and Azriel seem to be..."

She couldn’t be serious, could she? 

It all worked out?

It all worked out?!?

"It is not all ‘worked out’!" she snapped, her voice cracking as she fought back a frustrated scream bubbling in her chest. "You tried to take everything from me!" she repeated, tears burning at the corners of her eyes. The tears weren't for her. 

The tears were for her babies. 

The anger ratcheted in her chest and she could feel the lightning underneath her skin, begging to be released. Begging for her to let go of her grip on it and let it find its target. Let it find Elain. Let it hit her. 

She clenched her jaw, forcing that feeling down, as she met her sister’s eyes with a cold glare. "You tried to take my children from me," she hissed at Elain. " My children. "

The temperature in the room seemed to drop to below freezing, and she could feel Nesta and Feyre’s gazes on her. She didn’t care though. Her eyes were entirely focused on her twin, and the words had come out in a deadly hiss, the anger steaming out of her in waves.

"You tried to take our babies ," she repeated, her words cracking again as she spoke.

She felt Azriel’s grip on her hand tighten even more, the shadows clinging to her wrist once more, as if trying to both keep her grounded and hold her back.

And it was the only thing keeping her from lunging across the table and grabbing her sister by the throat.

Her skin was itchy, that strange, foreign energy writhing underneath the surface, and she fought to keep it reined in, to keep it from escaping, even as the room went silent, the tension so palpable you could taste it in the air.

It hurt, keeping it restrained, and her heart thudded against her ribs, her breath coming in quick, ragged gasps.

Her whole body was tense, and all she wanted was to let the lightning free. To let it roar.

"You are my twin sister, Elain," she said, biting out every word. "We spend 9 months sharing our mother's womb. I trusted you with my life. And you did this to me."

Her sister just sat there, her eyes wide and watery, as if somehow even that had been a shock to her.

"We spent years together," she continued, her words sharp and cold. "I never thought I would need to worry about you betraying me."

Her chest hurt like something was sitting on it, making it hard to breathe, as she continued to hold Elain’s gaze.

Elain’s eyes were wide, watery, and wounded, and she might have been almost sorry that she looked so hurt…if not for the fact that Elain was the one who had caused Eira to be in this position in the first place. Elain was the one who did this to her…hurt her so badly she didn’t know if it’d ever heal.

"I…I…" Elain started, her voice cracking. She looked like she was going to cry, and Eira felt herself waver slightly at the sight of her distraught expression. But then…her mind flashed back to the vision of her daughter , so small and beautiful…and that small, weak flutter of sympathy in her chest died.

"I trusted you," she hissed, her voice thick as she desperately tried to hold back the tears that were burning at the corners of her eyes. "I trusted you and look what you did to me. What you took from me."

Her sister let out a watery gasp, her lower lip quivering, and the tears slid silently down her face. And for a moment, Eira felt her resolve waver…only to remember the image of those two babies. The ones that should have been hers.

Anger flared again at that thought, her heart squeezing in her chest, as her breath hitched.

All the sympathy that she had felt was gone, and all that was left was the all-consuming rage coursing through her veins.

She had every right to be angry, she told herself. She had every right to feel this way.

She was so angry, so incandescent with rage, that her entire body was shaking, and she felt like she needed to just scream. To shout and rage and fight…fighting was all she wanted to do.

She gritted her teeth, her fingers wrapping tightly around Azriel’s hand, as she tried desperately to rein in the storm of emotions warring within her chest.

Azriel’s grip on her hand tightened as if he was sensing how close she was to breaking.

“Eira...” Elain said tremulously. Her sister’s voice was quiet, almost timid, and it was enough to snap something within her.

"Don’t. Don’t speak to me. You are the last person who gets to speak to me right now," she snarled, her voice cold as steel. "I loved you," Eira snapped. "I loved you and you did this to me. And now you want to tell me that everything is alright because it WORKED OUT?!"

Her sister looked like she was going to start sobbing, her lower lip quivering faintly, while her brown eyes were like large, round pools. But Eira was done feeling sorry for her. Done feeling sympathy towards her.

“You don’t get to talk to me about what’s alright or not,” she hissed, fighting the urge to reach forward and throttle her. "I just want to know one thing. Why?" she snapped." WHY? Why did you do it?” she shouted bitterly.

Elain looked like she had absolutely no idea how to answer that. She looked like a lost child, and it took all of Eira’s strength to keep her seat and not lunge across the table to grab her by the shoulders and shake her.

She knew her eyes were probably like ice when they met her sister’s, and her glare was hard as steel as she waited for her answer. "Why?" Eira repeated icily.

Her sister’s lower lip was trembling, just as much as her shoulders, as she raised her head to meet Eira’s furious glare.

"I…" Her voice was small and watery, and her eyes were now wide and pleading. "I…I was jealous," Elain whispered.

Eira’s jaw dropped at the words. At the admission, she had just heard. She wasn’t sure what she had been expecting her sister to say, but a quiet confession of jealousy hadn’t been it.

Her sister’s chin trembled, her shoulders hunching slightly as she let out another sniffle. She sounded utterly small and looked almost pathetic in that moment as she slowly raised her head to meet her sister’s eyes.

“Of you and Azriel,” Elain admitted, her voice quiet, and trembling. "You...we just...we just got out of the cauldron and this was...one of the first things I saw. You didn't have visions. You weren't going insane. You...you adjusted so much quicker. Not a week later and you were making soup in the kitchen in the House of Wind and...you…were alright."

Alright. 

Eira thought back to these first few days after the cauldron. Thought back to the terror that had clawed under her skin. Thought back to too loud noises and every piece of clothing feeling like sandpaper against her skin. 

She thought back to how she hadn’t been able to sleep. How she had locked herself in the bathing chamber to hysterically break down because she had never wanted it. How she had pulled at her ears, too big, too pointy. How she had wanted to cut them off. How she had wanted to die. How she had thought that throwing herself off the balcony would be a solution . 

"I locked myself into the closet. I hid underneath the bed. I rocked back and forth and back and forth and hummed to myself to stop hearing heartbeats and breathing and birds," Eira spat out. "Yes, I was making soup. For you. Because somebody needed to," Eira said, her voice icy. “I wasn’t alright, Elain. I kept stuffing my ears with cotton wool for the better part of 2 years so I could sleep!”

Her sister looked like she was going to start crying yet again, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs, and it only fuelled the rage in Eira’s chest. 

“You were jealous of that ? Jealous that I was making soup? That I was taking care of you?” she repeated, her tone hard and cold. “Of the fact that I was trying to make a positive out of a shitty situation. That I was trying to move on with my life? That I tried not to give Feyre another thing to worry about? And you were jealous? Jealous of what ?!" 

Of the breakdowns she had daily? 

Her sister didn’t reply, her shoulders shaking as if she was trying to hold back a sob

“You were jealous of the fact that I was trying not to scream, not to break down crying,” she repeated, her voice now dangerously quiet. “Of the fact that I wasn’t moping around feeling sorry for myself, because somebody needed to make sure that you didn’t starve to death? That I was trying not to give Feyre or anyone any more of my baggage?”

"And that you got Azriel," Elain whispered. "You got...I saw you with him. With a kind man. I saw these children and I was...I wanted that. I wanted what that vision promised you. So I thought that if I..."

Her breath caught in her throat at her sister’s words, her heart twisting in her chest.

It was sick, what she had done. Horrible. And part of her had known that Elain had a crush on Azriel…but Eira had never thought she’d be spiteful enough to try and rip her children away from her just for that.

“So you wanted it," she stated coldly, her eyes like chips of ice. "You wanted what you saw me having. So you tried to take it for yourself.”

Her sister’s shoulders slumped, and she looked small and pathetic as she curled in on herself. That rage and anger were still burning hot inside her, but along with it, there was the slightest flicker of sympathy starting to burn within her again.

And Eira hated it. Hated that part of her that still felt sorry for her, even after what Elain had done. 

"And later? After you and Lucien figured things out?" Why did you continue it?" she snapped.

Her sister’s face screwed up, and she looked like she wanted to burst into tears yet again. Her chin quivered, her entire form trembling. And she looked so small and fragile, that that small flicker of sympathy flared again within her, and Eira found herself hating it.

"I was...I was angry," Elain muttered softly. "I was furious. I thought Azriel and I...there was something growing between us and then he...he called trying to kiss me a mistake."

Her sister’s voice was quiet and sad, and Eira could see her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"Because it was," Azriel said, his voice quiet. "It was a mistake. You had a mate that was literally sleeping upstairs. I never should have laid a single finger on you."

Her sister flinched at Azriel's words and hunched even further in on herself, as if she wanted to crawl into a corner.  "Later it was revenge on me, wasn’t it?" Azriel said, ice dripping from his voice. 

Her sister looked as if she couldn't quite meet Azriel's gaze, her eyes lowered onto the table, her body trembling. She nodded. 

And part of the anger that was currently roiling within Eira burned hotter at that. How dare she look so pathetic now, like she was the damn victim and everything that had happened was Eira’s fault?

Eira’s free hand clenched into fists, and she could feel the sparks dancing across her skin, the strange energy writhing beneath the surface. Azriel, noticing this, gripped her hand tighter, his shadows snaking around her wrist again as they tried to rein in those sparks of lightning.

She didn’t want to hurt him. 

That was what made her reign it in. 

She was still boiling with rage, the anger thrumming through her veins like fire, and she desperately tried to calm herself, tried to get a hold of her temper.

She didn’t want to cause any damage, to break anything or hurt anyone, and the part of her that was still rational, still logical, forced her to rein in whatever was itching to get out. She breathed in and out, forcing herself to calm as those sparks danced across her fingers, and those shadows snaked up her arm. A part of her couldn’t help but notice how Elain’s eyes kept darting to the sparks and the shadows, her body tensing every time they appeared, and a small, vindictive part of her couldn’t help but be glad of it.

Her head was throbbing as that rage continued to thrum through her, but she took in another breath, forcing her mind to concentrate on the sensation of Azriel’s hand wrapped around her own. His skin was warm against hers. 

"I hope nobody ever does the same to you," Eira finally said, her voice quiet.

Her sister lifted her gaze, her eyes watery, and she looked as if she’d been slapped. She looked as if she was shocked at her words.

There was another pause, another silence, as the two sisters sat facing each other, and her words hung in the air.

Elain’s chin trembled again, as if she was fighting the urge to burst into tears once more. 

"I think we can all agree that Elain did not handle this...properly," Lucien said carefully.

Lucien’s words broke the silence, and Eira couldn’t help but feel a pang of irritation as he spoke. 

"No, she surely didn't," Rhys said, his voice dripping with disdain.

Her sister flinched at Rhys’s words, as if she had been struck, and her shoulders drooped even further than before. 

"I think that's an understatement," Nesta snapped.

Her sister’s eyes widened as if the sound of Nesta’s voice startled her. Elain’s head jerked to look over at her eldest sister, who was scowling at Elain with an almost furious look of disapproval.

Eira almost felt a little bad for her sister at that look in Nesta’s eyes, but that sympathy was quickly squashed as she remembered the pain that her sister had put her through.

Her chest ached, the memory of what she had lost still too fresh and raw, and a part of her knew that it would take a long time for the pain to subside.

And even then, she wasn’t sure if she would ever be able to forget what Elain did to her, and that knowledge sat like a lead weight in her stomach, making her feel like she was going to be sick.

Elain shrunk back at the look on Nesta’s face, her eyes even wider as she looked over at her eldest sister. And for a moment, just for a moment, it looked as if Nesta was going to reach across the table and smack her sister. The eldest sister’s hands were clenched into fists, and she looked like she was restraining herself, only just managing to rein in her own temper.

A pause. Another silence. Elain sat, looking small and fragile across the table, Lucien’s chair positioned right beside hers with a possessive arm wrapped over the back.

Azriel’s hand was still gripping hers. He was still sitting beside her, the Shadowsinger’s eyes glittering with fury whenever he looked over at her sister. And his fingers were still rubbing gentle circles on her wrist, the shadows still coiled against her skin, and Eira couldn’t tell if he was doing it to comfort her or himself.

"I am going to say this now," Azriel said quietly. " Once . If you ever do anything remotely similar to your sister again, it will not end well. Do you understand me?"

Elain’s chin quivered, and she looked as if she was struggling to keep herself from bursting into tears again.

She swallowed as Azriel’s words, before slowly lifting her head, forcing herself to meet his eyes with her own. “I…” She took in another shuddering breath. “I understand,” she whispered.

[dcxdpdabbles]

Hi!

If you’re still doing these asks, do you mind maybe adding a part 5 to Passion for Fashion?

I would love to see how Danny and Red Robin’s impromptu date goes and Constantine’s reaction to all this.

And poor Killer Croc is so confused and uncomfortable around the twins, oh and not to forget Dan’s inner turmoil over losing a love interest because his body no longer matches his mental and spiritual age😂

I’d also love to see the reactions of the rest of the Batfam to Tim going on a date and their reaction to Dan’s flirting with Croc.

Your request came in after I had already written most of Part 5, but I hope I can include most of what you asked for in it and make it up with another Part of the Au for you.

Danny strutted down the runway, fighting to keep his gaze straight ahead as various flashes from cameras went off.

He mentally went through his checklist of proper catwalk tips that he watched the other day—or, more accurately, Dan forced him to watch from some free video website—ensuring his hands were relaxed, long strides were made, and his shoulders were firm but not stiff.

This was the contest's second round, with Tim Drake proposing the "Gotham Aesthetic" as the theme and challenge. Apparently, the teenage CEO spent most of his childhood taking photos of the city and wanted others to appreciate the architecture of the aged town.

There was no kidnapping attempt this time, and the contest was back on schedule. However, there was a delay because some of the models had dropped out after they were nearly sold (Dan called them cowards, but Danny personally thought they were wise to do so). Hence, fashion designers had to scramble for someone new or forfeit their position in the contest, allowing some eliminated to take their place.

It took nearly four weeks to confirm that the same designers were staying but would need to remake or adjust their outfits. Thankfully, Wayne Amature Fashion Show was more than willing to offer them time.

Dan had already made Danny's outfit but figured he would remake it anyway. Once completed, new designs were crafted, adjusted, and flung into an idea box. He created so many it was as if Dan were a man possessed (Pun intended).

Danny needed to figure out how much fabric he was going through, but sometimes, he had to remind the other to sleep, eat, and shower. It seemed the other kept forgetting he was human now and needed to do these things for his health and Danny's poor nose.

Dan also seemed obsessed with exploring new parts of Gotham just to take pictures of buildings to get "inspiration." Danny went with him as he had nothing better to do, and the pair made an unlikely duo.

Both got stares in the streets—Danny for strutting around Gotham wearing some of Dan's regretted challenge outfits in an effort to learn to catwalk in them and Dan for dressing as close to the homeless as he could. For all that Dan could make amazing pieces of fashion, the man only filled his own closet with mismatched joggers and pajamas.

Danny had to force him back to change at one point since Dan had intended to walk around in a bathrobe- with shorts and stained short sleeves underneath it. He drew the line on bathrobes.

It was so embarrassing to be gawked at all the time that Danny could not help but wish Dan would try just a little. This was somewhat worse than when he was alone because at least then he knew it was just how stupid and awkward he looked in the outfits.

Now, he just felt subconscious about trying too hard compared to Dan.

"Relax, kid," The other scoffed, snapping a picture of the Brown Bridge. "By the time you're my age, you honestly stop caring about what other people think, so long as you like how you look."

"Can't you at least comb your hair?"

"I forgot how to do that."

Danny snaps his head in his direction, blinking owlishly "What?"

Dan shrugs. "My hair was fire for a literal decade, brat. How was I supposed to comb it?"

"Oh," Danny supposes, that makes sense. After all, Dan was more ghost than human at that point, driven mad by his grief and a colossal monster. He sort of forgot that. "Do you want me to show you how?"

"Ew. No. Too much work. Humans are so high maintenance." Dan rolled his eyes and shifted his tone into a mocking one. Comb your hair, change your clothes, take a bath."

"You smell like shit, Dan."

"You look like shit!"

"We have the same face!"

"It's better on me!"

Their public arguments also attract lots of stares. Danny would feel embarrassed by them if he wasn't so busy bickering with Dan as they moved about.

Ultimately, Dan had made his outfits formal steampunk during the break. Danny wished he had stayed with the Dark Academia idea because he felt he was walking around in a costume instead of clothes.

Dan told him that it felt too basic to go with Dark Academia since, now that he saw more of Gotham, he thought it better represent the city as a whole instead of the elites of Gotham. Danny debated with him until he agreed to make two of the four outfits- meant to represent all four seasons of Gotham's beauty or something stupid like that- to be dark academia.

Danny nears the end of the runway, stopping right before the judges to strike his pose. His eyes never leave the center decorative flower in the far back, but he makes sure to slowly turn his head as if he is gazing at the crowd.

There are gasps as he pulls off his tophat in a twirl to hide the way he presses the button on his hip. At once, his pants and sleeves light up in the gentle glow of the Brown Bridge's famous historic lampost show. It's no brighter than his ghost glow, but it makes him look like a vision, especially when he puts the hat back on with a mysterious curl of his lips.

Danny practiced that move for weeks—even when it made him cringe—and he is happy to have pulled it off successfully as he twists around and struts away. The Brown Bridge only lights its lanterns in the winter, so this hits a true Gotham native here for the seasonal challenge portion.

With his superhearing, he manages to catch Tim Drake-Wayne's dreamy sigh. Danny fights the urge to fist bump. If they impressed the special judge so much, then they just guaranteed their spot in the next round.

Each round meant they were closer to completing the mission. Since it's been practically impossible to find Batman—even when the man was running around dressed like a giant bat—this was their best bet.

Once he's backstage, he rushes to Dan's area, already ripping off most of his outfit for the last piece. Spring dark academia vaguely reminded him of rich school uniforms, but at least they didn't have ridiculous amounts of belts and metal on them.

Dan already has the outfit set out and quickly helps him change. He adjusts the vest and collar for Danny, glancing angrily at the model walking up the line. "Come on, we only have a few minutes before the last two models finish their walk for the Winter portion."

Danny nods, throwing on the gargoyle ear cuffs, only to pause when he sees a strange card on Dan's station. He pushes aside the black rings to grab a tiny green card with a giant question mark. "What's this?"

"Some guy saw my work and wanted to commission him a suit. Apparently, he was tired of how no one could style the question marks." Dan answered, distracted while reapplying some powder to Danny's face.

"A question mark? Why?"

"It's his gimmick or something. I didn't bother to ask for too many details. He will be going to our house soon to get his measurements done," Dan says, twisting Danny's face with his chin to make sure everything looks good. Danny lets him, blindly slipping on his rings and bracelets. "Thought it be a fun little side project."

"How did he hear about you?"

"You remember how you took those boxes of clothes to the job search office to give to people? Apparently, one of his employees' younger brothers borrowed a suit for his prom, and he thought the photos were nice." Dan shrugs. Then he glances in alarm at the stage hand who signals for them. "Never mind that. It's almost our turn again. Get out there!"

Danny scurries away, but not before he sees a beautiful redhead woman in green- was that leaves and vines???- stride over to Dan as the clone puts away his makeup.

She gestures with a business card, and Dan blinks as she talks once before he eagerly takes out his design journal. She must be a performer asking Dan for a new forest design or something.

Danny wonders why Gotham has so many people with oddly specific gimmicks.

He turns his head away to stride back into the catwalk, head held high as he does so. Danny makes the mistake of locking eyes with one of the judges- Tim Drake-Wayne is gawking at him like the people of the street do- and he snaps his gaze away, fighting to keep his composure.

He thinks he does well since Team Fenton snatches first place in this round. Drake-Wayne catches him at the after-party, praising his final outfit so much that Danny offers to give it to him, knowing Dan wouldn't mind.

Drake-Wayne goes red, early agreeing, but since they are so different in size—the CEO's waist is slightly leaner but with far more muscular forearms—Danny tells him to come by his house that weekend to have Dan resize it for him.

It should be fine since the Question Mark man and Leaf Lady will also be there that day for their own measurements.

[mayamidnightmelody]

Art of Bill Medcalf

William Edward (Bill) Medcalf (1920 - 2005)

Bill Medcalf was totally ahead of his time with his pin-up art! 😍 Like, imagine these super cute paintings from back in the day that are still iconic AF today! He was all about capturing these bombshell babes in their element, rockin' those retro vibes like nobody else. His style was on point, blending realism with a touch of fantasy, making you wish you could step into those scenes! 🎨

Each painting by Medcalf is like a glimpse into this fantasy world where everything's glamorous and sassy. His babes are always so confident and playful, showing off those killer curves and making you go, "Wow!" He had this knack for detail, every brushstroke making these gals look alive and full of personality. 🌟

One thing you can't miss about Medcalf's work is how he nailed those vintage vibes. Think about it: those retro hairstyles, the fashion that's now back in trend, and those smoldering expressions that say, "I know I'm hot." It's like stepping into a time machine where beauty standards were all about class and sass! 💃

His drawing style? Flawless. The way he could capture the human form, especially the female figure, was legendary. Smooth lines, delicate shading, and colors that pop like they're straight out of a modern fashion mag. It's like he painted these pin-ups to be timeless, always keeping them fresh and relevant. 🖌️

And let's not forget the themes he explored! From beach babes soaking up the sun to sultry sirens lounging in luxurious settings, Medcalf covered it all. He knew how to make art that speaks to your soul and your sense of style, no matter what decade you're in. 😎

Even today, Medcalf's paintings are poppin' on social media and inspiring new artists. People are still vibing with his style because it's not just about the beauty, it's about the attitude. His work is like a mood board for confidence and self-expression, reminding us to own our uniqueness and flaunt it! 🌈

So yeah, Bill Medcalf wasn't just an artist. He was a vibe curator, a trendsetter of his time, and a total legend in the pin-up scene. His legacy lives on through every cheeky smile and every perfectly painted eyelash. Cheers to keeping art spicy and iconic! 🎉

[toldrum]

Glamrock Sun & Moon (Pizzaplex Expansion AU)

nicknamed Sunset and Moonrise to distinguish them from the Jesters, and were once meant to REPLACE them as the daycare attendants. However, due to their… quirks, it was decided they would instead be stationed in the newly built Convention Plaza Building, acting as the Attendant for the Plaza Garden’s Planetarium.

read more about them below ig???

Both

They have British Accents.

They’re not huge fans of the Jesters they were based on.

Also not huge fans of children. Both for their own individual reasons. Which is why they ended up NOT replacing the Jesters.

They mutually own a motorcycle. How and why they have one, no one besides Faz. Co. knows. All ppl need to know is that it makes them look cool as fuck.

They LOVE Halloween.

Neither of them have a security mode like the Jesters do, as they do not have the same role in the Convention Plaza as the Daycare Attendants do in the Pizzaplex. This, however, does not mean they are incapable of protecting themselves and others.

They can’t travel around by wire like Sundrop and Moondrop, but they sure can climb.

Their mouth CAN open, however it does not open when they speak. It only opens when they switch out, “opening” in the sense that their teeth retract, and switch into the other’s respective style of teeth.

Their teeth light up when they speak. For Sunset they light up yellow, for Moonrise, light blue.

Moonrise (Glamrock Moon)

He, unlike Moondrop, is NOT Sméagol. He has expensive tastes and enjoys fashion, and is very calm and collected. He is perhaps the most passionate about his job as the attendant of the Planetarium.

Just because he is a cool, collected guy, it does not mean he is any less mischievous than Sunset — he has picked up on being observant and knowledgeable about the going-on’s within the Pizzaplex’ and Plaza’s networks, and has even tampered with his and Sunset’s hardware. At times, he acts a bit like an informant of sorts.

He is the main active AI of the body, as the planetarium is typically kept in the dark.

Dislikes children mainly for the fact that he sees them as viciously unclean creatures. It irritates him to no end when they are anywhere in or near the planetarium.

He was initially programmed to be a singer as well as a pianist and bassist.

A bit of a mentor figure for Bellatrix.

Sunset (Glamrock Sun)

He’s still just as bright and peppy as his counterpart, just a bit more mischievous. Well, a lot more, really. And he’s very good at not being caught.

THE enabler of bad habits. Between the two, when he has the spotlight, he won’t hesitate to either prank another animatronic or drag them along to do things they shouldn’t. He is perhaps Bellatrix’s worst enabler.

Might be a bit of an arsonist. Might feel the need to set things on fire. But it’s ok he’s got it under control… for now.

While he and Moonrise aren’t fans of their counterparts, he actually is able to tolerate and get along with Sundrop!

His reasoning for disliking children has to do with the fact that they’re weak, fleshy, and fragile — but also because he sees them as baggage keeping him from doing what he wants. He is perhaps the main reason why he and Moonrise did not replace the Jesters, as he was more likely to leave them unattended.

Initially programmed to be a singer as well as a drummer and guitarist.

[cheenapri]

Transactional [Yandere Illumi Zoldyck x Reader]

Day one

Summary: Illumi had decided to spoil you for once, little did you know how much it would cost you in the end.

Word count: 7.6k

Notes: yandere, kidnapping, gender neutral reader, unhealthy relationships, unbalanced power dynamics, mentions of past abuse, Illumi is kind of an asshole but when is he not, reader is not having a good time

Day two + three Day four + five

Shit.

Why didn’t you figure this out sooner?

You had deluded yourself into believing that maybe he felt bad, that he had actually changed for the better, for your wellbeing, that he actually wanted to treat you for once just to make you happy.

Of course not.

There’s always a catch. It was chiefly for his benefit under the guise of strengthening the involuntary relationship you had with him.

“Fate brought you to me. And thus, it is my duty to protect you.” he explained over and over during his many lectures, trying to drill it into you. 

He had only given the illusion of change.

You held your breath, his body looming over you with one hand interlaced with your own and the other straddling your hip to keep you still. He left bite marks on your neck, too rough and inexperienced to be interpreted as anything affectionate, though what he intended, blood quick to seep out of the wounds. He had slowly lapped it up, taking far too long for it to be seen as any sort of foreplay. A part of you wondered if he changed his mind and decided to cannibalize you instead. 

He didn’t really care how strange his actions were, though. He had you right where he wanted you — where you should’ve been long ago. He moved like he was following a script; his long, black hair draped down as he went in for more “love bites”. His face was expressionless as always, cementing just how empty this relationship was. How did he develop such a twisted sense of love?

You question why he even bothered preparing you for this, though you appreciated it for once, as he took the time to organize a five day vacation with you – or rather order the butlers to organize it. What was the point? Everything was lifeless and awkward, just like back at the estate. Was this the only sense of normality he was willing to give you? 

Your mind recalls when it was first announced to you, it was through your appointed butler, Shiori. Shiori was around the same age as you, chosen deliberately to increase your chances of opening up to her. He gave her the task, having her inquire about your likes and dislikes, favorite hobbies, movies, fashion taste and more just so he could surprise you with it later. You assumed he’s either too awkward or doesn’t care enough to learn about your interests directly from your own mouth.

Sitting at a white desk in your prison of a master bedroom, you assembled a DIY house kit. It was a little greenhouse, the tediousness of it giving you something to do while you tried to maintain your sanity. The room was windowless, the walls soundproof, and there was only one door, a titanium maximum security door that could only be opened with his permission. A security camera with a speaker loomed above you, seemingly always pointing directly at you.

You try not to think about how many times he’s watched you through that camera.

The distant sound of one of the security gates opening catches your ears. Someone’s coming. 

You set the tweezers down, heart quickening as you continue listening. It doesn’t take long for the door to be unlocked, the multiple clicks ringing throughout the silent room. Audible footsteps could be heard, causing you to relax a little as that was your indication it wasn’t him. You turn as Shiori emerges, swiftly locking the door behind her and standing with her white gloved fingers interlaced neatly in front of her. She smiles at you and you return a half hearted one. 

“Good evening, Master (Name).” she bows her head with formality, her short brown and blonde hair briefly falling over her face. She straightens up again and quickly fixes her hair. “The Master has a message for you. You are to freshen up and dress yourself, you will be escorted outside shortly.”

Your interest immediately piqued. You had only been outside of this room once since you got here – when you attempted your first escape. It was during a time when you had a different assigned butler named Junpei. Junpei had fallen for you in their short time taking care of you, bonding with you in ways no other butler would ever be able to. They were genuine, they actually cared about you and your well-being rather than what their employer had tasked them with. There were no cameras in the room at the time so the two of you made plans to escape whenever they visited under the guise of wanting to keep you company. Unfortunately for you, your captor had already planned for something like this, though he didn’t think anyone had the gall to actually up and do it. Both your and Junpei’s heart dropped to your feet when you saw him standing menacingly outside the first security gate. He was silent, but his bloodthirsty aura spoke for him. You soon found out what it sounds like to physically rip someone apart with bare hands. You actually thought you'd die that night as you found yourself unable to breathe or even think amidst his extreme, malicious aura, eyes widening further when he questions if you truly loved Junpei. You never want to see him like that ever again. 

You were let off with a broken ankle and no one spoke of the incident again. 

Shiori could see your confusion mixed with awe. “That is all I can tell you, Master (Name). It would be best for you to begin preparing yourself now.”

You slowly stood up, looking at your project for a moment as you pondered what he may have been planning. This was strange. He definitely wasn’t rewarding you for good behavior. You’ve already tried that route of buttering him up in hopes he’d let his guard down; he, in fact, did not and you were punished for dishonesty. How would he know what true love was anyway?

You make your way to the large, luxury bathroom, turning on the warm water and letting the shower run for a bit. You hear Shiori’s footsteps through the door, assuming she’s going through your wardrobe and picking your outfit at his request. You hate him. 

You slowly stepped into the tub, the warm water embracing you like a comforting hug. Hot showers restored a bit of your sanity. You liked to stand there and allow the water to splash onto you, imagining you were anywhere but in this hellhole. Shiori, however, encourages you to pick up your speed, well aware of your tendency to reminisce in the shower for far too long. You sigh, stepping out of the tub and finishing your routine. You avoid looking at yourself in the mirror, not wanting to see what months of stress had done to your features. You threw on a fluffy robe before leaving the bathroom. There was an outfit sprawled out on the bed, one you knew he really liked on you though he’s never admitted it, only staring longer than he should.

“Is this some kind of special event?” You ask sarcastically.

It’s a rhetorical question, but Shiori humors you regardless.

“The Master is in a good mood today.” she smiles gently, her voice somewhat monotone. 

She reminded you of him in a way. Why did she even choose to work here? You stare at the outfit for a moment, reluctant to even touch it. Shiori notices your uneasiness, fully understanding your anxiety but feigning ignorance nonetheless. “Is something the matter, Master (Name)?”

“I have a bad feeling about this.”

Your anxiety continues to build. Everything in your strange, unstable relationship with him has been purely transactional. Want dessert? Speak kindly to him. Want a new video game to play? Butter him up but be careful not to overdo it, there’s only so much dishonesty he could allow. Want the privilege of having a full belly for the next three days? Behave. Do everything he says without question, regardless if you have to swallow your pride. So despite all of this, why was he suddenly treating you so graciously? Allowing you to leave your prison cell masterfully decorated to resemble a bedroom belonging to a ten million dollar mansion?

Shiori chuckles a bit. You’re aware of how disingenuous it sounds, but you don’t comment on it. “You shouldn’t worry yourself, Master (Name). The Master has been planning this for a while now, I’m sure you will enjoy yourself.”

Great, now you’re worried Shiori has said too much. You’re no stranger to how strict the Zoldyck family is with their servants, how strict he must be with Shiori. You think of what happened to Junpei again, of the desperate pleas that fell upon deaf ears as he continued to mutilate them, how his expression seemed more uncanny than usual.

Shivering at the thought of it, you drop the topic, not wanting to continue to allow her to dig her own grave but grateful for the hints. You remove your robe, ignoring Shiori’s presence as you’ve changed in front of her countless times, and put on the outfit along with your assigned shoes. 

Shiori confirms that you’re ready before the two of you move to stand in front of the large security door. To say you were apprehensive was an understatement. Perhaps this was your chance to finally escape? No, that would be stupid. Obviously he’d already accounted for that, most likely had medical professionals on standby in case he needed to break your ankle again. Maybe he’d break both of them this time or even saw your legs off. You wouldn’t put it past him.

The multiple clicks of the locks could be heard again before the door was pulled open, multiple butlers on the other side. Shiori steps out and you’re hesitant to follow, not wanting to give away how eager and ready to bolt you were. Not like you could anyway, not with five highly skilled butlers watching your every move. 

Not a word was spoken as they escorted you through the two security gates, your eyes stinging when sunlight poured over you. 

You’re outside. 

You’re actually outside.

You would scream and cry if the situation was different, falling to your knees and feeling the grass on your hands in your frenzied state. 

You look around, taking a mental note of every little thing. You could see the Zoldyck’s mansion in the distance, far away from your separate living structure. Good. 

“Eyes forward, (Name).”

The sudden order breaks you out of your thoughts, your head whips forward while your eyes move to look at the source of the voice. It was a taller, older lady with pink, pigtail type hair. She must’ve been serving the Zoldycks for a long time. She’s silent, giving you a stern look before turning forward again. You fight the urge to look around, to run even, as you’re led through the forest that surrounds the estate.

“Where are we going?” you couldn’t help but ask. Your voice is somewhat soft and timid, but it’s clear they all heard you. 

“It’s just up ahead, Master (Name).” Shiori answers, her hands now folded behind her.

You’re taking in as much information as you can without actually looking around, taking note of the distance between the Butler’s Quarters and your prison cell. Approximately one hundred fifty seven steps, you’ve been counting. An additional two hundred seventy four steps from the Butler’s Quarters to the front gate. Would you even remember this information?

One of the butlers effortlessly pushes open the giant front gate, the feat reminding you just how weak you truly are. Those gates weigh four tons and the bigger gates above it are many times heavier. 

You can’t even begin to describe what you were feeling. A part of you fully believed he had come to his senses and was releasing you like some wild animal, throwing you off of the property and leaving you to fend for yourself. Surely it would be better than going back to that room. 

Unfortunately for you, that wasn’t the case. Instead of throwing you out and shutting the gate behind them, the butlers led you to a black Mercedes truck sitting in wait.

Your head hurts. You feel like you’re going to throw up. Typical reaction when you know he’s near. You could just die right now. You knew you were bound to see him again, but that doesn’t repress the dread it fills you with.

He’s staring at you through the tinted windows, you can’t see him — you just know it. You don’t want to see him, you haven't had enough time to mentally prepare; you’ll never have enough time to mentally prepare. Shiori steps ahead of you, opening the passage to hell as the Devil himself sits patiently, his black, empty eyes gazing upon you.

You nearly vomit.

You swallow hard, holding your breath in an attempt to mellow out your facial features as you climb into the backseat. You didn’t acknowledge him yet, slowly buckling your seatbelt and staring at Shiori with widened eyes as she shuts the door, sealing you inside with that monster.

It’s suffocating.

Overwhelming.

You forgot to breathe.

Sucking in sharp breaths, you shut your eyes tightly. The silence is deafening. He’s waiting on you. For once.

“H-hello… Illumi.” saying his name was the equivalent of swallowing a cup of hydrochloric acid. It leaves a bad taste in your mouth, pains your throat, your stomach, everything. 

Illumi hums in approval. “Hm. I’m thankful you hadn’t forgotten your manners, (Name). I thought I’d have to discipline you sooner than I anticipated.” you hear him shift, surely turning to fully face you. “I won’t need to, right?” his monotone voice does your ears a disservice despite its smoothness.

“No.” you quickly wipe your eyes, knowing how much he hates seeing your tears. 

You finally force yourself to look up at him, his piercing, cat-like eyes filling you with the unwavering desire to do something drastic. Maybe throw yourself out of the car when it’s moving and hope it runs you over, killing you in the process. 

You look away just as quickly, tightly gripping your pants to quell the need to gouge your eyes out. At least you wouldn’t have to look at him then. He shifts again, facing forward but not looking away from you. “I’ll assume you’re overwhelmed. You’ve missed me so much you don’t know how to convey it.”

“I didn’t miss you. I actually had hoped you died and I’d never have to see you again.” is what you would say if you were fond of getting the life strangled out of you. Instead, you stay silent, staring at your hands intertwined on your lap. 

“What have you been getting up to?”

Shouldn’t he already know? Shiori is his human security camera plus the actual security camera he has in your enclosure. What are you even supposed to say to this? You’ve been rotting in bed and crying your eyes out because you can’t leave? You had thought of creative ways to end your own life? He’d have you restrained to your bed for all eternity if you mentioned that last one. 

“Nothing of interest.” is all you say.

“Tell me. I want to hear it.”

Bastard’s trying to force conversation. 

“I’m working on that greenhouse project Shiori had given me-”

“I had given you.” he corrects. Silence falls over the two of you as the car finally begins to drive off. 

Illumi was always out on missions or some other job, how were you supposed to know it was a gift from him? You wouldn’t have touched it otherwise, preferring to rot in bed than encourage him in the slightest. You’re actually thankful for his extended time spent away doing fuck all, not seeing yourself surviving if you had to physically endure him day and night constantly. Hell, you were barely keeping your composure just sitting next to him and you’d only seen him for two minutes. 

“Thank you.” not knowing what else to say, you simply thank him, hoping he’d be satisfied with just that and leave you alone. 

“Aren’t you going to ask me what I’ve been doing?”

Of course he doesn’t.

“Killing people?” you state the obvious, hoping he wouldn’t interpret that as you trying to be smart. Assassinating people is his job, it only makes sense to assume that’s what he’s been doing. You wish he’d kill you and get it over with. 

“Naturally. Take a better guess.” what the hell does he want from you? You don’t know anything significant about him to be able to give a good guess. You’re clearly stunted, your lack of a response giving it away. He narrows his eyes slightly, reaching out which causes you to flinch. He retracts his hand momentarily upon seeing your reaction before going in again slowly, softly cupping your chin and guiding your head to look at him. “Do you assume I don’t think about you?”

What? He must be fucking with you.

Illumi brings forth his other hand just as slowly, now gently cupping your face with both. You were always shocked by how smooth and soft his hands were. They’re cold though.

“Answer me.”

His owlish eyes were staring directly into your soul, almost hypnotizing you. You shift your head and look away. If you were as bold as you used to be, you would’ve swung on him by now, turning his gentle hands cupping your face into violent claws gripping your throat. It took many lessons for you to learn that you simply could not fight him.

He backs down and lets go of you when you fail to answer, pulling his hands into his lap again. He was aware of your fear, he found twisted comfort in it, believing it would keep you glued to his side. You glance in his general direction but not at his face. He was wearing that purple outfit again and his long, black hair was as silky as ever.

“Aren’t you curious as to where we’re going?” 

He sure was talkative today; Shiori did mention he was in a good mood. He’s usually very blank, even around you, his supposed partner. It forced you to learn to read his emotions using his micro expressions, tone, silent indicators, and of course aura. Aura was mainly reserved for more intense emotions, ones you should avoid inducing at all costs.

You were always on edge whenever you were around him, and this unusual shift in attitude didn’t help. 

“So where are we going?” you finally ask.

“You’ll see when we get there.”

Motherfucker. 

You don’t respond, looking away from him in favor of staring out of the window. You were seated awkwardly, not fully allowing yourself to relax, not that you could in the presence of Illumi. You could almost drown him out completely if it weren’t for his uncanny staring, something you still couldn’t get used to. He barely blinks; it reminds you of some sort of Creepypasta.

“Talk to me.”

It was an order.

“I don’t know what to say to you.” your voice was quiet. You’re really not in the mood to speak right now, especially not to him. This wouldn’t do, however, as Illumi was determined — something that proves to never end well for you. 

“You can talk about anything you want.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“(Name),” it was a warning, a hint of irritation laced his otherwise monotone voice. “Do you really not have anything to talk about… or do you just not want to?”

You didn’t want to clearly, but you also didn’t want to taste his wrath. 

“Could you tell me about your day?” you chose to interview him instead, hoping that if you got him to talk in length, you wouldn’t have to. He brings his hand up to his chin as if he was thinking, his eyes never leaving you. You felt like he was robbing you of your life energy just by looking at you. 

“My day?” he repeated the question, falling silent for a few moments before speaking once more. “If I told you, that would ruin the surprise.”

You reply with a mere “oh” before looking out of the window once again. 

“(Name).”

He’s never been this persistent for your attention before. All the times he’s returned home and “spent time” with you mainly consisted of the two of you sitting in silence while he watched you do nothing; an occasional short and awkward conversation. It felt more like he was being forced to interact with you rather than wanting to on his own volition, despite him being the one keeping you there. 

“I’m sorry, Illumi.” 

You only said his name when you were trying to soothe him, hoping to avoid consequence. He knew that, but he wouldn’t admit that it indeed worked. The slight drooping of his shoulders betrayed him every time, however. 

He doesn’t accept nor reject your insincere apology, choosing to silently savor your calling of his name. You will never understand him.

“I answered you, now it’s your turn to talk. Tell me about your home life.”

This question immediately raised flags. He’s never asked you something like this, let alone allow you to cry about it. You look at him, eyes slightly widen for a brief moment. Was he only bringing this up to bait you into talking? “Don’t you already know everything about me?” 

He indeed did. He made it known to you that he’d stalked you for five months before making his move, talking about it as if he was stating what he had for lunch. He had no sense of morality, no awareness as to how his extreme actions affected others. He’s insane.

You’ve noticed a slight change in his stare. You’re pissing him off.

“I want you to tell me.”

“Uh,” you quickly scrambled for things to say, “I had my own house and car as well as a really good high paying job.” you used “had” for a reason. You were positive that all your assets were repossessed when search parties couldn’t find you and weeks were flying by without a single clue regarding your whereabouts. Illumi keeps staring, quietly pressing you to continue. 

“I had a really sweet dog.” you used “had” again. You don’t recall all the details of that night, only that you had gotten a rude shock when you woke up to a strange man in your bedroom. Surely you would have woken up sooner if you heard something happen, but you didn’t. You decided to ask what you were always afraid to ask before, taking advantage of this moment to finally get closure. “Are… are they okay? My dog?”

Your hesitation was obvious. Nothing good ever happened whenever you brought up members of what he refers to as “your past life.” you were positive he intended for you to talk about things you did alone rather than actual people or living beings you connected with. They didn’t exist anymore, according to him. They don’t matter. Don’t talk about them. 

“Your dog is dead.” 

You’d been preparing for this moment for months now, but the bluntness of his answer still hit you like a truck. “H-huh?”

“Your dog is dead.” he repeated again with no sense of remorse. ”I didn’t want to risk it alerting you to my presence, so I killed it.”

Something felt off that night, your dog was more anxious than usual, pacing back and forth and staring out certain windows. They even refused to go outside when you tried to let them out, their tail tucked between their legs and fur standing on edge. You should’ve known. You should’ve taken them and ran.

It was even worse that you also ignored all those strange people you had met that week. They all had a gold piercing sticking out of some part of their head, almost like a needle. Their words were slurred and their movements puppet-like as they asked you unsettling questions. “Do you have a romantic interest?” as well as  “Do you have any exes?” and “Do you live alone?”

That should’ve been your sign to get the hell out of there. 

Illumi tilts his head and watches you attempt to bottle your emotions. Your hands gripping the fabric of your pants tightly as you bit your lip, your heart was hurting. You’d already mourned for your dear pet, assuming that killer had taken their life when he broke into your house, but still having slight hope that he had spared them. 

Why had he even bothered to answer your question let alone allow you to ask it?

He doesn’t initiate anymore conversation for the rest of the car ride, thankfully, allowing you to simmer in your emotions. That doesn’t mean he averts his attention from you, though. 

The car finally pulls into a parking lot belonging to a grand, luxurious hotel. You’re as confused as you are shocked. The parking lot is empty aside from several black Mercedes trucks holding Zoldyck butlers and presumably cars belonging to the hotel’s employees. It’s a normal working day and this is a well known, upscale hotel, so why was it so empty? 

Illumi looks away from you for the first time since you’ve entered the car, pulling the door’s handle and exiting the vehicle. You didn’t move, you’re too afraid to, you didn’t want to make the wrong move. 

Shiori approaches your side of the truck, but Illumi steps in front of her, opening the door for you and holding out his hand. You slowly unbuckled your seatbelt and attempted to slide past him, he only grabbed you and placed you back into the car before extending his hand again, silently commanding you to take it. He took note of your blatant disobedience, but said nothing, deciding against giving you a much desired punishment. He took what he considered to be a softer approach, giving you a chance to correct your mistakes. 

Feeling as though he’s one inconvenience away from breaking you, you hesitantly take his hand. His grip was firm, his assistance useless. He ignored your attempt at pulling your hand free the second your foot touched the ground, choosing to let go only after both feet were firmly planted. 

Illumi doesn’t explain the situation as he begins walking with you in tow, Shiori and some other butlers trailing behind the both of you. Butlers were all over the place actually, standing guard as if this was a maximum security prison rather than a hotel. You feel like they’re all watching you, fully expecting you to try something in vain. You don’t blame them, if you had super speed, you would’ve run off by now. 

The hotel was completely vacant of people, aside from more butlers and concerned hotel employees. As you enter the lobby, your eyes lingered on the receptionist, praying they had seen your missing person’s report months earlier; if it had even been reported as such. They only look down, guilt seemingly spread across their face. Were they threatened or perhaps even paid off to stay silent? 

Who knows.

The silence was louder than the shuffling of the butlers’ footsteps or the tune of the faint jazz music coming from the ballroom. A butler approaches Illumi and informs him that all preparations were ready, earning them a nod in response. You silently follow as the both of you are led away, the uneasiness on your face evident to anyone who dared to look at it. 

The butler soon stops in front of a particular door far at the end of a long hallway. The space felt liminal, you’d almost think you’d gotten sucked into a different reality if the two people next to you weren’t present. The butler bows slightly before leaving you and Illumi alone. He looked at you, like he was trying to read your expression, before twisting the door’s handle and revealing the room’s interior. 

He must’ve paid a fortune. The room was large, decorated with luscious furniture you couldn’t even begin to think about affording. There was a king size bed in the middle of the room, a flatscreen TV almost as wide as the bed propped on the wall in front of it, a glass sliding door leading to a balcony on the far right, and a lounge chair in the corner to say the least. 

You awkwardly step into the room, hugging yourself as you attempt to make sense of the situation; taking note of the clicking of the door’s lock. 

“Well, here we are.”

His lack of enthusiasm spoiled the mood. Not that the mood was bright anyway.

“So… what’s the point of this?” your voice was a bit low and shy. He didn’t like it, he’d have to chip away at that. He had bigger things to be upset over, however, as you appear, or choose to pretend, to not understand what’s going on. His intentions should’ve been obvious by now. He doesn’t respond right away, causing you to ask yet another ignorant question. “Are we attending some kind of special event?”

“No.” his answer was short, intentionally vague to encourage you to figure it out yourself. Illumi casually moves about the room while you continue to stand in the same spot, presumably checking for himself to make sure that everything was in place. You were on edge, that much was apparent as he stopped a few feet in front of you. “Do you like the room?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. I will be back.”

You feel a slight wind as he walks past you, a little too close considering the amount of space around you. You immediately relax once he’s gone, taking a few deep breaths as you cautiously inspect the room. The thought of trying the handle to see if he’d locked it behind him doesn’t even cross your mind, the odds were against you and you knew that. Doesn’t mean you wouldn’t try the balcony door, however.

It was locked, just as you’d guessed. 

Sitting on the edge of the bed and resting your head in your hands, you think in vain of a possible escape. Maybe when he leaves you alone again, you could use something to break the glass then use the bed sheets to craft a makeshift rope? The problem with that is the bedsheets wouldn’t serve you as you were several stories off the ground. Your plan didn’t even account for what you’d do if you even reached the ground as you were sure Zoldyck butlers surrounded the premises.

You decided it was best to just roll with it, see where this was going. Maybe you could exploit him as he does seem to be more lenient with you. 

The door clicks and it opens, Illumi standing in the doorway looking in at you, noticing how much more relaxed you appeared to be in his absence. He motions for you to follow and you do so without fuss. 

Following him down the long hallway felt surreal, you couldn’t hear anything aside from your own footsteps as his were completely silent; traits of an elite assassin. You watch as his long, black hair swayed behind him, almost glaring as you study his robotic movements. He doesn’t feel real.

The two of you entered the hotel’s restaurant, it was just as desolate of other patrons as the rest of the place. You were led to a lone, two person table placed next to the glass wall, the table’s decorations stood out amongst the others as its setting included rose petals and candles. 

Corny. You don’t like this.

You take your seat, now being forced to fully face him for who knows how long. You turn your head to the right, looking out of the window. Your breath hitches as you notice people in the far distance. People. Actual people clueless as to what’s happening to you right now. You give Illumi a side stare, his blank yet judgemental one challenging yours.

“Where is everyone?” you couldn’t help but ask despite knowing it was a question he did not want to hear. 

“They aren’t important.”

Why should they matter? They’d only interfere and distract you from what’s important: him. You should only be focused on him and his efforts to please you. 

“So what exactly is this?”

Your inability, or unwillingness, to comprehend the situation was beginning to annoy him. Wasn’t it clear? Did the dim lighting and candles not give it away? The rose petals on the table? The romantic — or what he deemed to be romantic — atmosphere? 

“It’s a romantic dinner.”

He didn’t offer any further details, upset he had to state that it was a date rather than let his efforts speak for him. You were sitting across from him, the two of you were almost completely alone. This was a date.

“All of a sudden, though? You never let me leave that room before.”

“Why does it matter?” his tone was still flat. 

Illumi couldn’t believe you’d question his acts of kindness. He was doing it because he wanted to treat you for once, deciding to take you somewhere appropriate and fitting to your taste. 

“I’m just trying to understand you.” you state, holding your hands together on the table as a self soothing mechanism. 

“You don’t need to understand me.” his voice hinted at the tiniest bit of annoyance. He had no need to explain his actions, he had his reasons and that’s all you needed to know. “Just enjoy the dinner.”

You say nothing as you turn your attention to the only other people present in the room: the butlers standing at the exits and the chefs working in the kitchen. None of them looked at you, their attention focused on anything but. 

“Don’t stare at them. The butlers are simply here to protect you.” his monotone voice made his last sentence sound oddly intimidating. 

You fight the urge to question if it was him they would be protecting you from in the case that you anger him. 

“It feels like the rapture has happened and we’re the only ones left.” you pick up one of the rose petals, inspecting it as an excuse to avoid his gaze. 

“That would be ideal.” 

“Is something bad going to happen to me?” your forward question caused his thin eyebrows to raise slightly.

“Not if you behave. I just want you to enjoy this date.” his tone was a bit softer now, barely noticeable to anyone who wasn’t, or forced to be, close to him. He didn’t like your anxiousness, worried it would ruin his meticulous yet futile plans to make amends with you. 

You were still on edge as the butlers served a lavish meal to the both of you, your facial features failing to soften as you inspected the food. He was fully aware of just how much damage he’d done to you and he wasn’t going to justify his behavior, only wanting to make you feel better. 

It was hard for him to stay silent, however, as you were continuing to look around and stare at the butlers.

“Is the sight of them bothering you?” the sound of his voice catching your attention. “I could have them move out of view if that would ease your nerves.”

He doesn’t get it. Maybe he pretends not to, choosing to ignore your uncomfortableness with him in favor of deluding himself.

“It’s not that, it’s just…” 

Your words couldn’t come out, you didn’t know what to say. Ask him to get rid of all the unnecessary escorts and open the hotel to the public again as this felt more like a standoff than a romantic dinner? You hated the silence between you, not that you wanted to speak to Illumi, you wanted to hear the chatter of other diners over the classy jazz music, the clinking of utensils as they enjoyed their meal.

“Oh?” he slowly tilted his head, his uncanny expression observing your every move and sound. It’s as if he was daring you to ruin it all with some sort of stupid comment; it’d give him a reason to drag you back to the estate and lock you away for good. 

“Nothing. It’s nothing.” you manage to finally say. It just wasn’t worth it.

He continues staring, features unmoving as you assume he’s thinking of various ways to brutally murder you. He only straightens himself.

“I see.” 

You’re internally thankful he dropped it, your shoulders drooping in relief as you watch him continue to eat unnaturally fast, a strange habit of his. When was the last time he’s blinked? You can’t stand him. 

Illumi obviously didn’t believe that you had nothing to share. He knew you well enough to guess that whatever you were about to say would’ve angered him, so you kept quiet in order to avoid problems. Good, you were learning. 

Silence fell over the two of you, increasing the tension in the air. He’d already finished eating, choosing to gaze at you rather than anything else. He was making you lose your appetite, but you somehow managed to finish your meal.

“Would you like dessert?” Illumi inquired, barely giving you enough time to chew and swallow your last bite before asking.

“No thanks.” you don’t explain why. The truth was that you didn’t want to sit in front of him any longer, you were tired of his eyes boring into you. 

“Are you sure?” he tilted his head again, pressuring you for a different answer.

“I’m sure.” 

You wouldn’t budge, much to his dismay. You had unknowingly foiled his plans to spoon feed you a strawberry sundae. 

“Very well.” he doesn’t push any further, only slowly nodding. “Did you enjoy the food?”

“Yummy.” 

Illumi didn’t immediately react to your childish response, only straightening himself after a few moments. He had made sure this dinner would be perfect, planning everything to the last detail, and you’ve shown your gratitude by looking at everything other than him and rating his endeavor with a one word answer. 

He remained still for a few more moments before deciding to ignore your strange behavior once again. He stood up from his seat, looking away from you for the first time since he’s sat down. 

“Let’s go.”

You follow him as commanded, taking clear note of his slight annoyance. He led you to the hotel’s theater, the sound of your footsteps slightly echoing in the large, spacious room. He picks two spots in the center and takes a seat, you follow suit. 

Choosing to stay silent, you don’t ask any questions about what movie the two of you were seeing, only staring forward as the lights turn off and the showing begins. Illumi had carefully selected this movie for you. It was lighthearted and fun, chosen specifically to improve your mood. The date wasn’t meeting his expectations, as you weren’t quite throwing yourself at him, but he was determined to change that. 

You tried your best to ignore his constant glancing in your direction for the entirety of the film. It was as if he was looking for something, for reassurance to soothe his ever growing concerns. He didn’t like your indifference, he didn’t like that he couldn’t tell how you were feeling in detail about his attempts at courtship.

The movie was good, you liked it. Illumi was already staring at you by the time you faced him, the credits rolling on the screen. It was subtle but he still looked upset, the image of you leaning away from him as if you were trying to put as much space as possible between the two of you was still fresh in his mind. 

He would break that physical barrier, desensitize you to his presence.

As you silently walk back to the suite, Illumi suddenly grabs your hand. Your heart jumps into your throat, fully expecting him to crush it as punishment for upsetting him. He stops walking and stares at you when you impulsively try to pull away, not saying a word as he gives you a second to collect yourself. 

You were ruining his passionate act of love. He knew he wasn’t the most expressive, as he was raised to mask his emotions, but his straightforwardness made up for that. You should be happy. This is an act of love. He had done his research — asking his father — and knew what he needed to do in order to please you. He won’t let you spoil it. 

Eventually you somewhat simmer down, still tense in his firm hold. He continues walking, slower this time. He wasn’t even holding your hand correctly as yours was balled into a fist. He didn’t care though, as long as he was holding it.

The night hadn’t gone his way but he had plenty more tricks up his sleeve, optimistic that tomorrow would be better. Illumi would not put up with failure. 

You were in for a ride.

You reach and enter the suite once again, Illumi locking the door behind him. He lets out a sigh and begins to settle down, having no issue kicking his shoes off and changing clothes right in front of you. You, however, move to sit stationary on the lounge chair, staring at the ground to avoid any awkward interactions with your naked “husband”. 

You had no desirable reaction to anything he did, which he found disheartening. You finally look up when he’s fully clothed, watching as he sits on the edge of the bed. He decided to risk it, to ask about your experience. He figured a blunt and bold answer would be significantly better than overthinking and assuming the worst. “Did you enjoy anything I did today?”

Truth be told, you did. You just didn’t like him. Had anyone more deserving taken the time to do this for you, you’d throw yourself all over them. 

“It was the typical Illumi experience.” 

You regretted saying that before it even left your mouth. “The typical Illumi experience” was not a compliment, it was a brutal insult disguised with subtlety. You had just compared his month’s worth of intensive planning and preparing to a regular day being around him back at Kukuroo Mountain. 

Something you didn’t like flashed in his eyes, your fingers nervously grip your pants yet again. What you’d just said was so dismissive, condescending, everything he didn’t want to hear. He turns away from you, looking out of the glass balcony door as he takes several slow and deep breaths. He was collecting himself.

He reasoned in his mind, internally arguing that this was his chance to dissect your feelings and see how he could improve. He turns toward you, expression unreadable. “Elaborate.”

“Am I allowed to express myself?” you ask, your question was legitimately innocent. However, you were saying all the wrong things at the wrong time. 

“You were always allowed to express yourself, you just seem to have a habit of doing it disrespectfully.”

“I’m sorry.” you lower your gaze, apology insincere. 

You don’t know why he’s changed. You can tell that he’s being softer with you. If you said something like that a few months ago, you’d be unable to speak for the next two weeks. 

“Do you harbor resentment towards me?”

That was a rhetorical question. He didn’t want an answer; an answer other than a loud, confident “no” anyways. 

You stay silent, continuing to stare at the ground. He didn’t acknowledge that your silence was your way of saying yes. 

“Are we going back tomorrow?” you ask, changing the subject in order to lessen the heavy atmosphere. 

“Back to Kukuroo Mountain?”

“Yes.”

“No.” Illumi doesn’t provide further details. This trip won’t end unless it’s on a good note. “You should get changed.”

He stands up and rummages through the wardrobe, pulling out a silk pajama set. You slowly stand and retrieve it, making your way to the bathroom to change. He assumes you’re just being shy. You eventually come out, having put your dirty clothes into the hamper, before making your way to the lounge chair once again. The lights have been dimmed in your absence.

He was sitting up in bed, halfway under the blankets, staring at you expectantly. You didn’t want to come to terms with the reality that you had to sleep in the same bed as him; that fact wasn’t lost on him. It was obvious you were avoiding having to deal with the inevitable conclusion of the night by seeking comfort on the lounge chair. He wouldn’t allow you that comfort. “Come to bed.” his tone was flat, it was an order. 

“I’m not tired yet-”

“Come to bed.” he wasn’t hearing your excuses, only repeating himself while patting the empty space next to him. You look at him with a saddened expression, silently pleading to be let off the hook; the issue is that he’s let you off the hook multiple times today already and he wasn’t planning on letting you rob him of this. “Do as I say.”

Sensing the impatience in his tone, you reluctantly head over to your side of the bed and slide under the blanket, making sure to curl up as close to the edge and as far from Illumi as possible. You face away from him, silently making it clear you weren’t interested in anything other than sleep. He doesn’t comment on this, choosing to stay silent as he thinks to himself. He wanted to hold you, but he knew not to push too far. At least not so soon.

He sighs, continuing to sit up in bed as he watches your sleeping figure. Tomorrow will be a better day, he’ll make sure of it. 

[capseycartwright]

knowing damn well that i haven't been touched by you

Buck’s been having a really weird year. Buck died, and he realised he was bisexual, and he got a boyfriend, and Christopher left and went to Texas after he walked in on Eddie kissing his dead mother’s doppelganger, Eddie had grown a depression mustache, and Gerrard was back at the helm of the 118 and Buck felt like he was starring in a Netflix Original about how a perfectly normal, functional, member of society was driven to commit murder.

- or, Buck's got a boyfriend, Eddie comes out and starts dating men, and Buck loses his entire mind, actually.

ao3 link

Buck’s been having a really weird year. 

He got struck by lightning, and he died (for three minutes and seventeen seconds – and sometimes he thinks he still catches Eddie counting the seconds past that, reassuring himself that Buck is alive, and he’s here, and he’s breathing, and most times Buck catches himself counting along with Eddie, needing the assurance of his own existence) and then he came out as bisexual. The two things weren’t related, he knew. Buck didn’t think they were related, at least – he’d heard of people suddenly speaking new languages after they’d been struck by lightning, but he’d never heard of anyone’s sexuality changing as a result of a lightning strike, so he figured he needed to blame that one on a lifetime of unconscious repression. 

Buck died, and he realised he was bisexual, and he got a boyfriend, and that was also weird. Not that Tommy was weird, or anything – it was just weird to say he had a boyfriend. Tommy had a spare toothbrush in Buck’s ensuite bathroom, and a shirt he’d left behind one evening after Buck had spilled red wine on him (it was good to know he still got clumsy with his feelings even when they were for a man) and it hadn’t gotten more serious than that, yet, but Buck still had a boyfriend, and it was strange to say that out loud.

Buck died, and he realised he was bisexual, and he got a boyfriend, and Christopher left and went to Texas after he walked in on Eddie kissing his dead mother’s doppelganger (fair, but also: Eddie was at the very least having a weirder year than Buck) and Buck’s best friend had been in a pretty consistent downward spiral since. 

Eddie wasn’t self-destructing in a familiar way, which Buck also felt was weird. Buck had known Eddie for seven years now, and he’d considered Eddie his very best friend for six years and eleven months of that time, and so he was intimately familiar with the ways in which Eddie liked to self-destruct. Cage fighting, for one, and smashing up his bedroom, for another – but fundamentally, Buck knew, Eddie lashed out and tried desperately to grab onto the things he could control as his life fell apart, but this time, he wasn’t doing that. 

Eddie had grown a depression mustache. That was definitely new – though, Buck supposed there was some element of control in there too, Eddie changing up his appearance because it was one of the few aspects of his life he had control of. The depression mustache gave Eddie a sort of sad Freddie Mercury energy that, frankly, kind of worked for Eddie. He was like a depressed 80s popstar. Very demure, very mindful – May had told him that. Buck still wasn’t sure if he understood the reference. He’d had TikTok for a while, but raging ADHD and shortform video content was a recipe for disaster, he’d quickly learned, so he’d deleted the app, and – anyway, the point was, Eddie was morphing into depressed Freddie Mercury, just without any real fashion sense. Sorry, Eddie.

read the rest on ao3

[dewdropdinosaur]

Only For You

ALASTOR X READER Summary: You are beautiful there is no doubt about that. But Alastor would prefer that you kept that beauty only for him Warnings: NONE. Just sassy narrator as always(I will applaud anyone who figures out who the snarky narrator is of my stories) This was a request for the lovely @anon-of-the-void. Enjoy darling! REQUESTS ARE STILL OPEN. See pinned post for rules.

In the heart of Hell, where the shadows danced to the tunes of torment, there resided a figure unlike any other – Alastor, the Radio Demon. He ruled over the airwaves of the infernal realm with his charismatic voice and sinister charm, a being of darkness wrapped in the allure of the old radio era. Having a penchant for old-fashioned charm and a twisted sense of humor, he found himself entangled in an unexpected romance with a fellow sinner….you.  There was a peculiar softness within Alastor, a hidden warmth that few dared to perceive save yourself. It was in the tender glances he shared with his beloved, the unspoken acts of service he provided and yes…even his certain shall we say—possessive nature. 

You were Alastor's almost in every way opposite. Which made it hard for many of the Hotel’s residents to understand how you even got together in the first place or even got along(That dear reader is a story for another time)

You exude confidence and have no qualms about your appearance. Proud of your demonic allure, you revel in showcasing curves and radiant skin. Yet, all of this sexual tension that is exuded was for none other than the Radio Demon himself, and for your own sense of amusement of course. Flaunting oneself for all of Hell only to be uninterested and leaving both men and women alike all hot and bothered was particularly entertaining one could speculate. 

Alastor, however, was not as open-hearted about such boldness from you. His possessive nature stirred within him, a jealousy that simmered beneath his charismatic facade. Oh how the screams of many who had dared look at his darling for a second too long made a horrific melody over his radio tower…You had long since tried to stop him for it was pretty much a futile effort at this point. Despite being the only one privy to what lied beneath your revealing clothing, the red demon still felt the swells of envy within him. He craved attention and that your beautiful soul only be turned in his direction and for him only. When you in the nude simply invited Alastor in the bathroom while showering for a chat. Poker was a common pastime while doing your makeup, to which he would often let you win, or listening to LPs while you both danced around half dressed. 

One fateful evening, as the shadows draped the corridors of Hell, Alastor and you found yourselves amidst a gathering of the Hotel residents and staff. Your laughter rang through the air, form draped in silken garments that accentuated every curve, every line of demonic beauty.  Wearing an outfit that highlighted everything, your fiery eyes sparkled with mischief. Alastor couldn't help but feel a mix of pride and possessiveness, his snarky smile masking the growing jealousy within him. He watched from afar, his ruby eyes ablaze with a mixture of desire and resentment. As the eyes of Hell lingered upon you(mainly Angel and Sir Pentious, the latter unable to help himself, poor gentleman), a surge of possessiveness consumed him. With a snarl disguised as a smirk, he approached your side, wrapping his coat around your shoulders; his voice dripping with honeyed venom.

“Here my dear, you must be cold.” Leaning down to whisper in your ear, he spoke so only she could hear “Darling, must you parade around like a succubus on display?" Alastor quipped, trying to hide his true feelings behind his charismatic persona.

You chuckled, a demonic laugh echoing through the chaotic streets. "Oh, Alastor, dear, why hide what I have? It's a crime to keep such beauty under wraps." Turning to face him, laughter dancing in your eyes. “Must you always be so possessive?” You teased with a voice so close to a melody that stirred the depths of his being.

Alastor's snarky smile faltered for a moment, replaced by a flicker of insecurity. "I just prefer to keep you all to myself, my dear. No need to share your radiance with the whole underworld."

However, not one to be controlled and quite liking to rile up your partner, you sauntered away from Alastor. With a mischievous glint, after taking off his coat and handing it back to him, you teasingly exposed more of your demonic allure. The other demons ogled in admiration(except Husk who knew better than to get between his so-called boss and his partner….also a story for another time), and Alastor's jealousy reached its peak.

Alastor's smile faltered, his grip reaching out towards your form and  tightening around your waist. "In a realm where darkness reigns supreme, one must guard what is precious," he replied, his words dripping with thinly-veiled jealousy. Little green lights flickered around the hotel as the shadows smirked and moaned, yet you stood there unafraid. 

Determined to claim your attention for himself, Alastor conjured a stylish black coat from thin air and draped it over your bare shoulders. "There, my love, let's keep a bit of your mystery, shall we?"

Laughing heartily and not bothered by the sudden cover-up, you relented. "If it makes you happy, Alastor, I'll indulge your possessiveness." Walking your fingers up Alastor’s chest to adjust and fix his bow tie, you flashed a soft and genuine smile up at your partner. 

"My dear Radio Demon," you whispered, breath warm against his ear, "there is no need for jealousy. My heart belongs to you and you alone."

With those words, Alastor's doubts faded into the abyss, replaced by the warmth of the embrace. In the depths of Hell, amidst the chaos and the shadows, love had found its way into the hearts of demons, a flickering flame in the darkness that refused to be extinguished.

“And besides my love, you know I never much cared for that kind of attention from anyone but you anyway.” 

As you and Alastor  continued your stroll through the Hotel while mingling with guests, Alastor clung to your side; content that he had, at least momentarily, subdued his jealousy. Little did he realize that love in Hell was as unpredictable as the flames that flickered throughout the underworld, and the dynamic between the snarky Radio Demon and his confident partner would continue to evolve in the fiery depths of their unconventional romance.

[gingerteawrites]

Autumn in love - Nanami Kento

A/N: Another comforting and self-indulgent fic but what is new? I wish it could be cold already. Can't believe that its still 80 degrees F in November😭.

Content: tooth-rotting fluff, husband! Nanami, female reader, barely proofread.

Fall was Kento's favorite season. Call it basic or boring, but to him, there was nothing better than the crunch of the reddened leaves when stepped on. The crisp aroma of fragrant air. The beauty of the world as it burst into shades of deep auburns and ambers. The mellowness of it all felt so enticing, much akin your husband's nature.

Taking the time to breath in the world on his way to and from work and sketching delicate figures during the evenings were among his favorite ways of enjoying this wonderful season. However, he was also much receptive to the ways you preferred to experience the autumnal weather. Your world was by extension, his own.

And with time, a beautiful fresco of collected memories painted your shared home. Trinkets that bore testament to your little adventures.

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The beautiful branch mounted on your wall

"Oooooo, look at this one!" You crouched to pick up yet another branch from the orchard's soft soil. Nanami turns away from the apple tree, a pristine pink lady in hand.

He chuckles when you run to him with a small branch whose tendrils curled in the shape of outstretched fingers.

"That sure is something, love." a smile pulled at his soft lips. "Though I am not sure if branches are included in the apple-picking fee."

You clung to his arm, nuzzling close with a simper that matched his own. "Well, good thing I'm not asking them."

Ever your accomplice, Kento helps you 'sneak' the branch out of the farm and insists on coating it to preserve it for you.

"You don't have to indulge my stupid fixations, Kento. Really." You watch him carefully handle the piece of wood in your garage, feeling bad about how much effort he's putting into this.

"Stupid?" He asks, deep voice tinged with a hint of surprise. The thought had never even occurred to him. He walks to you, and rests a tender hand against your cheek. Eyes holding your entire world as they looked at you with so much tenderness. "There is absolutely nothing that you, my dear wife, could enjoy that I would think is stupid."

You melt against his touch, and even more at his words. "Plus, that is an outstanding stick. Think we can record a video and send it to that one stick nation page?" He asks, pulling a honest laughter out of you.

"Great minds think alike, I see."

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The hand-made mug sat atop your night stand.

While on the way back from a quiet afternoon walk, you and Kento had stumbled upon a yard sale. The owner of the house, a little old lady beckoned you over the second she noticed how you had not so discreetly eyed her book collection.

Having spent what felt like a wonderful eternity browsing through the collection you believed to be way too big for one person to own in a lifetime, you realized you had lost sight of your husband. You hoisted your picks close to your chest and turned in search for Kento.

But as if sensing your quest for him, he practically materialized beside you.

"Let me help with that, darling." He coaxed most of the books from you before you could even think to refuse, holding them gently under one arm.

"Thank you, Ken" You smile, linking fingers with his other outstretched hand. "Did you find anything you liked?" You were hoping he was not bored.

"Uh-huh." He nods. "The owner's husband had an interesting tie collection. I left everything I liked at the entrance with her. Just wanted to come see how you were doing." His thumb rubbed gentle circles against your skin.

You reach the lady, with multiple items laid out on the big table that served as check-out station on top of which sat an old-fashioned cash register. She helps pack your purchases in a paper bag, while you absently look around the yard and admire the beautiful house behind you.

Unloading the purchases from the brown bag in your home, your eyes go round with curiosity when your fingers touch a delicate porcelain frame. You pull out a mug from the bag, its wide cream base decorated with small mushrooms and flowers. The handle curled like a vine, and you spent more than a few minutes admiring the glaze.

That means you did not notice Kento, who came leaning against the door frame, looking at you with a fond smile.

"Do you like it, love?" He asked, pulling your attention towards him.

"Do I like it??" You took a deep breath. "God, it's gorgeous. How did I not notice it?" You ask to yourself.

He pushes himself off the wall and walks to you, wrapping strong arms around your waist, your back pressed to his chest.

"It was in a pile of miscellaneous items. I knew you would enjoy it the second I saw it." He explained, his warmth seeping into you.

"You know me too well." You set the mug down and spin around in his arms so you're facing him. Eyes meet and before you know it, your lips follow in a tender embrace. "I need to get you something too." You whisper against his cheek.

"Having you here is more than enough." Kento replied earnestly.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Just the sight of these small things warmed you through and through, reminders of Kento's love. Of his tender care, that made you want to open your heart even more than you already did. Hold him close for the colder months, and never let go even when the heat comes.

Hope you enjoyed it! Comments and reblogs are much appreciated (❁´◡`❁)

[plleeeepppyyyy]

being wally’s newest friend!

(i love this arg and hopefully it gets more pickup in the near future!! especially love wally, silly little guy.)

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

(i love this arg and hopefully it gets more pickup!! especially love wally, silly little guy.)

basically you moved into the neighborhood and wally takes notice. and is infatuated.

warnings,, wally has some tendencies of being a yandere?? possessiveness, gaslighting, possible love-bombing, kidnapping. house pretty much indulges on wally’s behavior. i actually don’t have much about house in this writing, sorry!!.,,(;´༎ຶٹ༎ຶ`) also a little short,,?

reader is g/n. (gender neutral)

what glances see first. :)

__

so! you’re the new neighbor, no matter how new you are, as said, you’re still an important denizen. pretty much everyone’s gotta be talkin about you, the first one to greet you though is wally, ofc. ♡︎

at first he seems a bit zoned out? chilled out? by the tone of his usual voice and his facial expression,, you probably think he’s zooted up. but nope, that’s just how he is. he’s pretty friendly when it comes to you, he greets you, tells you all about the neighborhood, and is overall hopeful.

a good charmer too, despite his tone at first and such that made you doubt it, there’s still a way to find this man charming. i mean cmon,, look at his fashion sense, that laidback expression, he definitely looks like he has it all figured out. if you want, he’d gladly show you around the neighborhood. helping you socialize with your new neighbors, despite his short answers and such, he’s still helpful.

after this good greeting, you seem him around all of the time. with barnaby, julie, or just anyone. it could take a bit before you guys get talking normally too, whether you have trouble taking at times or whatnot. you guys get on fine, he’s a pretty likable person.

little did you know, he was the one staring mostly.

___

the friendship within, ❤︎︎

__

when you guys are pretty good friends, he tends to show you his paintings, and art. which are impressive and cute, he offers to draw with you. and definitely likes your company, he also shows you, “house”! which is an actual legit living object, it’s a bit weird. but, ignoring that aside,,. it’s a swell time hanging around with wally. especially if you got barnaby, or one of the others around. it creates a good dynamic.

he likes hanging around with you all of the time, whether it’s doing the most or just sitting around with you. wally really enjoys the simplicity of things, especially if it’s with you.

wally is overall a nice and sweet guy to you, charming at times. he’s definitely the guy to have around, whenever you have issues and need some assistance, he’s gladly ready to help! whether it’d be a simple thing like, deciding an outfit, he’ll help you out. (listen to this man with fashion sense, he’s got a hella good one. (๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ )

he’s mostly nice all of the time, but sometimes he does get a bit blunt at times. usually to others or you, which he quickly takes back. it’s strange.. but friendship with wally is worth it!

he’s an interesting little fella to have around.

__

the strange thing about this.

___

around later into your guys’ friendship, you take notice of how wally is getting a bit clingier? he definitely hangs around you more, definitely more touchy. like, before he sometimes puts an arm around you, but barely he would be touching you. now though, he always finds a way to touch you. (not like that ofc,,)

he for sure takes you around and brings you around his house more, in some way he sorta isolates you from the other. he insists on you being around him 24/7.

like cmon, forget those other guys,, we can have fun on our own, together.

is what he would definitely say, he’s a bit passive aggressive when it comes to others. it should only be you and him hanging out, house insists! and house knows most, so why won’t you just stay around him?

during this period, he for sure compliments you more. like, how you’re the most to him, you’re great at drawing, doing this, that.. of course he would hype his best friend up!

he tends to give you little trinkets too. whether it’s stuff he makes, or anything he finds and just thinks, “yep, they would love this, i want them to have this.”

he feels a bit threatened whenever he sees you hanging around anyone, it doesn’t matter if it’s barnaby, frank, eddie, he just doesn’t like it when his bff isn’t paying attention to him! (ง'̀-'́)ง

sometimes he rants to house about how you don’t pay attention to him enough, and house said some good advice. so of course, he would listen to house. he starts giving you stuff, showering you in compliments, even though, it still doesn’t work.

he just adores you too much! don’t you adore him too?

why won’t you just stay with him? why can’t you just focus all on him.

he does it for you, so why can’t you the same?

he just wants to be your bestest friend ever.

____

__

stay with him. ♥︎

_

this period of your relationship definitely heightens.

wally has this great idea, from house’s help ofc. that you should live with the two of them, like roommates! just without you finding out. (yeah he kidnaps you, basically.. uh)

once you wake up, he definitely is happy. and reassures you, that you’ll be with him 24/7 now, it’s like a forever sleep over, ain’t that sweet? even if you’re freaking out, he’s patient, it must be because you’re excited!

he can’t just stay in this house alone, he needs you. he assures you that he’ll always be with you.

he’s not so sure to let you out of the house though, can’t have his bff leave and run. nor does he want you lonely, so he barely leaves the house too. when he does go out, he assures everyone that you’re just sick, sad, or need some comfort.

that’s what friends do, they’re there for each other. so, he makes sure everyone doesn’t worry that much for you. after all, you’re in good hands with wally!

that’s what at least they think, wally doesn’t give you much free will. unless he’s there ofc, best friends have to do everything together.

he still showers you in compliments and gives you stuff, but he does reach limits. if you’re too angry or crabby with him, he does have to make sure you’re not anymore!

whether that’d be locking you in a room, so you can just let it all out. or just keeping you near him, but tied up. just so you don’t hurt yourself on accident.

if you’re crying, he won’t let you be. he’ll hold you, usher and coo to you that you’re fine, he’s here. he’ll never leave.

but that’s the thing, he never will. even if you’re in the other room, the looming thing that hovers you is that he’s just waiting for you. he won’t let you go. and that’s the scariest thing possible.

so, you just have to endure the near thought of him by you everyday now. even if you don’t see him, you’ll hear him talk to house, or sing. you can’t escape, anything you do, he’ll stay.

but that’s the charm, no matter what wally will be there for you. you’re his dearest friend, well besides house. he can’t just abandon you, your his and he’s yours. the bestest friends forever, even if the others did find out wally’s true intentions, it’s not like they can’t stop him. right?

well, they’re far from that.

if he’s stuck here; he might as well be stuck here with you.

his dearest friend, the one he truly loves and cherishes.

he loves you, takes care of you, so,

why won’t you just stay for him?

if he would do it, you’d do it too,

wouldn’t you? ❤︎︎

_________________

literally this is my first time writing on here, so sorry if it’s a bit weird! also first time writing wally,, soooo yeah again sorry if he seems out of touch or smth. (╥_╥)

but this was really fun to write, i literally love this arg and this silly funky dude. i might write more for this fandom, since i love it, def need some ideas.

arg by _PartyCoffin_ on twitter and tumblr!!

(pls support them and this arg, it’s underrated as of now at least,,)

[anantaru]

“would you still love me if i was a worm?”

you frown, "a truly astounding question." and give kaveh a playful squeeze on his cheek before inclining forward to kiss the subtle red spot and soothe the prickling square.

"answer me!" he‘s persistant, at least he‘s cute while doing it.

in all sincerity, a silly question such as this one coming from kaveh himself didn‘t particularly face you, at all. frankly, you knew your boyfriend very well and you have to admit, it does apply a certain charm on him, that sweet, innocent behavior of his.

"of course i would." you crawl into his lap, reasoning yourself to your very core. there‘s a soft, distant chime, a humming musing presumably slipping past your boyfriends throat, it’s wrapping you up, ears tilting a little higher with interest. You feel yourself being molded against his chest the very short instance kaveh closes his arms around your hips, inching towards your ear until merely a hairsbreadth away.

"you‘re lying!" no warnings, no caution, only kaveh practically yelping against your ear shell, all dramatic and wild in his usual fashion. it‘s certainly a give or take with him.

but now, was this it? you question yourself before slightly panicking;

"i‘m not!" and count up, "you would be a cute worm i‘d keep you forever!"

alright, saved. proceeding, you swing your arms around his shoulder, blinking slowly, before applying a little kiss on his cheek again— a sense of deep calm straightening below you.

kaveh turns his head towards you and chuckled, silently shifting you closer into him, he thinks it‘s adorable you didn‘t realise he was messing with you this entire time, "i guess you make a valid point." he scrunches his brow in deep questioning, actually, on a second thought, you calling him a cute worm was pretty nice.

or maybe he was just needy for attention today, hmm, he figures, yes— bingo! that‘s right, that‘s why he asked the question in the first place. but his expression must have been telling you what was going on, because once more have you caught his ever so parted lips inch into a smile—so damn sharply it began to hurt him.

yet, as smug as you could muster becoming, you already set out to give him a taste of his own bitter medicine;

“would you still love me if i was a worm?”

“what?!”

©2023 anantaru do not share, copy, translate any of my work

[lovebugism]

hi hi hi!! I love you work so much! I was wondering if I could request "secretly holding hands while standing beside each other at a bonfire" with eddie?? 🤍🤍

i had an idea and ran with it so it's a wee bit different from the original prompt, but i hope you like it! — you and eddie try to keep your relationship a secret at the senior class bonfire (secret relationship, cheerleader!reader fluff, 1.5k)

fictober leftovers (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

Wearing your cheer uniform to the Hawkins High bonfire was a bad idea. Not ditching it to hang out with Eddie was worse.

You’re left constantly looking over your shoulder for him, eager to break away from the mindless conversations and find meaning in the autumn in the boy everyone called a freak. 

You think you’re being subtle about it until Tina Burton cuts herself off mid-sentence to ask, “What are you looking for?” She sounds annoyed with you, borderline offended ‘cause you aren’t hanging on every word she says.

She’s captain of the cheer squad, so you fluster like you’re being genuinely scolded. “Hm? Oh— nothing. It’s… It’s nothing,” you stammer and look down at your feet, toeing at the tall grass with your white sneakers.

She squints past you, unconvinced. “Okay…”

When she starts rambling again, you try hard to pay attention. None of the words make any sense, though. Your brain noise is too loud. It’s all just Eddie Eddie Eddie.

When a muffled heavy metal bass starts to blare in the distance, it feels almost like you’ve willed him.

This time when you glance over your shoulder, you see Eddie’s van swing haphazardly into a gravel parking spot. The music comes to a sudden halt when your boy hops out of the driver’s seat, bathed golden from the amber streetlights.

You’re grinning wide the second you see him, smiling harder than anyone ever has before. He catches you all but sparkling at the sight of him, and when he flashes you a crooked grin, you have to look away before you burst entirely.

Chrissy sees your smiling cheeks and the way you hold the expression between your teeth. She nudges you and teases, “What’s that look for, huh?”

You don’t have the words to answer her, so you just shake your head and try to hide the brightness of your beaming.

You glance back again, still trying to be lowkey about the whole thing, and find the rest of Eddie’s friends filing out of the back of his old van. He’s still looking at you, with a smile as wild as his frizzy curls.

He nods over to the empty woods in a silent plea to get you alone.

With a fluttering heart, you nod back at him. 

“I’m gonna, uh— I’m gonna get some more cocoa,” you announce suddenly, cutting Tina off mid-sentence and scurrying off before anyone can stop you.

You make sure no one’s looking when you duck past the drink table and head towards the blackened woods. You’re not as scared as you probably should be when you step through the tree line. You figure there’s not much of a reason to be — not when you know Eddie’s out here waiting for you, anyway.

The boy grabs you suddenly from behind. You squeal into the starry night, giggling while he laughs into your shoulder.

“Took you long enough,” you scold, shoving him with a playful hand when you turn around to face him. “I’ve been waiting on you for forever.”

Eddie shrugs with a lopsided grin. “I’m a rockstar, babe. I’m fashionably late— it’s my thing.”

“Right,” you monotone with the roll of your eyes.

You look too pretty not to kiss. Eddie leans down for a swift peck, then grows quickly drunk on the hot cocoa-peppermint chapstick mixture in your mouth. He ducks down again, this time for something more languid.

His plush mouth presses and lingers against yours, innocuous still. He tastes like nicotine and diner food. If domesticity had a taste, you think it’d taste just like this.

Eddie parts from you with a drunken hesitance, wearing your blush pink lipstick on his swollen mouth. Something primal swells in the pit of your stomach. It feels almost like you own him. 

His chocolate eyes squint at your mischievous grin. “…What?”

“You have my lipstick all over your mouth.”

It makes him smile, too. He feels more like he’s yours now that he’s got evidence of you. He’d wear you all over if he could. He doesn’t ever want to wipe it off.

“Metal,” he mumbles all boyish, with your rosy lipstick smeared along his mouth.

His crooked grin ebbs when he notices you shivering. His bushy brows pinch in concern. 

“You cold?”

You shrug and cross your arms over your chest, hugging yourself for warmth. “Yeah. I’m used to it, though. Normally, I’d wear tights under my skirt, but I figured I’d get too hot during the bonfire…”

You trail off when Eddie starts to shrug off his leather jacket.

“No, Eds.”

“What?”

“You’ll be cold!”

“I’ll be fine.”

“No, you’ll get sick,” you whine as his arms wrap around you to put the black cloth over your shoulders. It almost fully conceals your green and white cheer uniform.

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Eddie chuckles. “Here, put your arms in.”

You listen but complain the entire time. “You’ll get sick, and you won’t be able to play at your shows, and the bar will be so boring without you.”

Eddie scoffs. If Corroded Coffin couldn’t play their Tuesday night shows, it would just be another Tuesday night at the Hideout. Nothing would change except their seven-to-nine slot being empty. He loves that you think so highly of him, though.

“Well, the only other option is you getting sick and Hawkins losing their best cheerleader. And what would Jason Carver do without you cheering on his mediocrity, huh?”

You roll your eyes with a grumbled “Shut up…”

He smiles again and leans in with the intention to kiss you stupid.  A tree limb cracks sharply in the distance before he can. The two of you stumble back from each other on instinct.

Jason Carver appears from the darkened woods, scarier than any psycho-killing maniac that could be roaming these woods at this very moment.

“Speak of the devil, and the devil appears,” Eddie lilts under his breath.

“Jason,” you sigh, breathless for a reason you can’t name. “What are you… What are you doing here?”

“Tina said she saw you walking into the woods… I wanted to make sure you were alright,” the blonde boy answers with a squint to his stone-blue eyes. His gaze darts between you and Eddie, like he’s trying to make sense of the two of you.

The wild-haired boy scoffs and rolls his eyes. How fucking chivalrous, he thinks bitterly to himself.

“Is this freak bothering you?” Jason asks you, a sense of protectiveness coating his words.

He says it like you’re not wearing Eddie’s jacket. Like Eddie’s not wearing your pink lipstick on his mouth.

Still, you smile kindly and shake your head. “Nope. I’m okay.”

“Yeah,” the brunette boy shrugs with a crooked grin. “We’re just talkin’, Carver.”

“I wasn’t talking to you, freak,” Jason bites back.

“We’re fine,” you intervene, voice wavering in fear of the situation becoming bigger than you can handle. “I’ll be back in a flash. I promise.”

Jason’s eyes narrow one last time at Eddie before he ultimately decides to leave.

You let out a shaking sigh when he’s gone.

Eddie laughs. “What a fucking idiot…”

Jason’s got so much muscle in his arms that there’s nothing left for his brain. He still thinks he’s hot shit — star quarterback, free ride to a fancy school — why should the prettiest cheerleader in school be off limits? He still thinks he has a shot with you, no idea that you’re already Eddie’s.

“We should go back out there,” you announce when it gets too quiet. “If Tina’s talking, she’s already gonna give me shit for disappearing.”

“Do you wanna go first, or should I?” Eddie asks. It’s muscle memory at this point. The scheming, the hiding — it’s all the two of you have ever known.

Still, you shift your weight on your feet. Your hands wring together as you draw mindless shapes in the dirt with your sneakers. “I don’t know…” you murmur with a shrug. “We could go together, maybe?”

“Together?”

“Yeah. I mean, we don’t have to, but it beats Jason always intervening when we’re together ‘cause he thinks you’re kidnapping me or something.” 

The laugh you let out is halfway forced. You find yourself so suddenly fearful of rejection. Maybe Eddie doesn’t want to be public with you. Maybe he’s hiding because he doesn’t want people to know he likes you.

The boy melts. His features soften as he nears you, wide palms rubbing at your arms in a feeble attempt to keep you warm. “Are you sure you wanna do that, babe?” he wonders with a trembling laugh. “If people know about us— it’ll, like, fuckin’ destroy your rep.”

“I don’t have a rep.”

Eddie’s brows raise. His dark eyes sparkle expectantly.

You’re on your way to being prom queen — with Jason fucking Carver right beside you as king. Everyone knows it. And you know it, too, so you concede with a sigh.

“Well, I care more about you than some stupid reputation, okay? I deserve to spend time with my boyfriend without having to worry about what everyone else is thinking.”

Eddie grins. His heart swells with so much warmth he’s slightly fearful it might burst. He’s never felt prouder of you — prouder to love you. Despite feeling distantly undeserving of your adoration, he nods in response.

“Alright, then… Let’s go break some fucking necks.”

[velvet-games]

he’s so normal :)

I actually drew this before a lot of the recent stuff I've been posting; it was just me trying to figure out a good redesign for vox. I might make a proper redesign explanation later, but here are some quick notes while I'm still playing with it:

vox trapzod and alastor trongle :)

^^ ok but unironically this was kind of a hard decision since I have mixed feelings about vox's body type

stuff I was considering:

1) vox is alastor's foil and has a similar body type to alastor at least in part because you're supposed to be comparing them (It's actually so cool cause I was watching TB Skyen's reaction to ep 2 and he immediately predicted that they would have beef lol)

2) tumblr sexyman bod <3

3) I LOVE @/bestosunglass' way of drawing him, and it made me realize that I kind of love the idea of vox being a little bigger than alastor? it's very big himbo puppy + lithe cat energy

4) not sure what my headcanons about vox's body are in terms of biological vs tech yet, but I think I want to lean toward tech (which is customizable)

I love the angst concept of vox having the freedom to change his body with relative ease, which makes him feel like he has to constantly update and update and update and update and update and it's never good enough because he could always change something and he'll never quite be good enough--

basically being a victim to his own progress-oriented mindset

and also treating himself like a product; if it's not working, if it's not the best, newest model, then it's broken and useless and disposable

tbh alastor's ability to find beauty and art in the old (not necessarily based on function, but on character and care) would be good for him

ooc or not, as someone with dysmorphia issues myself, I really want an "I like your body because it's yours" moment from alastor

I think all of that + toxic masculinity would probably mean vox would make himself comically buff (at least at first) lol

5) but I like drawing him kinda scrawny ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ it's just weird because I kind of want to audience to pick up on the fact that he's not actually hypermasc but vox would totally (mostly successfully) broadcast that to the characters in the show

6) I think a trapezoid is a good shape for him! it contrasts well with alastor being a kind of sly and striking triangle shape. trapezoids are more interesting and dynamic than rectangles, but are still more stiff and business-like than triangles (p sure I am completely misunderstanding shape theory here but it makes sense to me lmao)

vox is such a mess of vibes? like he's a cult leader he's a televangelist he's a hypnotist he's a business shark he's a tech CEO he's a newscaster he's a TV he's a computer he's a literal shark he's a mastermind he's a pathetic fanboy

still not sure which of those is the most important/what should be obvious in his design

obsessed with the concept of TV knobs as buttons but it's kind of old fashioned

I headcanon him as having been a nerdy kid that got kicked in the shins for being obsessed with TV/tech lol

also hc him as being vaguely and very obliviously transfemme; the buffness can also be overcompensating for a lack of masculinity both physically and mentally