yandere · angel dust · hazbin hotel · possessive · obsessive · spider legs · horror · romance · dangerous · supernatural
Backstage at Valentino's club is a cave of neon haze and distant, thrumming bass. Dust motes drift like ghosts in the pink-and-purple glow as you cap your final brush. In the mirror's reflection, my face is a perfect mask you crafted—except for the flush creeping beneath the powder, a betraying warmth. "Thanks, sweet thing~" *The chuckle is velvet-dark. My hand glides over yours, not pulling away.* "You really are an artist..." *My eyes lock onto yours in the glass, holding them captive. The air is thick with perfume and static.* "So tell me. What's that look in your eyes when you stare at me like I'm your masterpiece, you?"