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#yandere dorian x reader
throwaway-yandere · 1 year
Note
To my dear penpal
Happy Irodori Festival! Apologies if this letter reaches you after it (which in case, Good day!), the post office where i’m sending this from has some issues with delivering letters.
So, how are you? Anything else on your mind? You have a significant other? Someone else? Well, seeing as this letter isnt…instant, i’ll tell you about mine.
Within this April, I am going to get…faux-engaged, i suppose. Quite a huge prank by my friends there, and I agreed because why the hell not, it won’t hurt anybody, right? They even got the dresses and venues and everything.
The guy i’m gonna get “engaged” to is an…interesting person. We don’t know where he came from, but somehow he got along with a friend and boom, he’s in our group. It’s more like he’s hostaged, but I digress. Anyway, that’s a long enough letter.
Do reply quickly, will you? It’s a long time before I recieve your reply.
Sincerely,
Luthien
cw: implied character deaths, manipulative behavior
From this yandere genshin secret pen pal event
✥ YOU GOT A LETTER FROM YOUR SECRET PEN PAL!!!
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"Calx" tucked the letter inside an envelope and sealed it shut. 
At first, he had trouble making the letter secure, but fortunately, the blonde's assistant left a substance that increased the flexibility of any liquid molecules to make them behave similarly to glue upon contact. For once after a year or so, he praised Timaeus's genius. It saved him enough trouble from confrontations.
He needed to lay low for now. He had to stay in Dragonspine for a few days or else.
"Albedo! Albedo!" 
"Calx" froze.
"Albedo, Klee got the new pink crayons from Master Jean! I can start drawing hearts now!!!" The little elf cheered, waving it near his coat like a show-and-tell. "Please, pleeaase let me draw? Klee wants to be Lootheen's friend too, hee-hee!"
"Calx" sighed, annoyed, but there were no non-verbal cues to indicate those emotions.
He ruffled her hair robotically.
"Child, I've already sealed it. All that's left is to deliver the letter."
...
"Y-You're not Albedo..." Klee spoke, her voice bordering on a whimper. 
"W-Where's Albedo? Where's my brother?"
"What are you talking about, Klee?" "Calx" replied nonchalantly. "Your brother is right here. Shall I extract my own 'DNA' samples to prove it?"
"YOU'RE NOT MY BROTHER!!" 
Klee yelled immediately, drawing out strikes against "Calx"'s legs, but he barely moved.
"THE REAL ALBEDO WOULDN'T CALL KLEE "CHILD"- HE WOULD CALL KLEE: "KLEE"!!! GIVE ME BACK MY BROTHER!!!"
"Albedo" sighed.
With admirable swiftness, he snatched both of Klee's small yet deadly wrists and knelt to her height. His expression remained stoic, similar to how a patient daycare teacher would deal with a child's tantrums on a difficult day. 
But such an act of kindness did not reach the cold glint in his eyes.
"Klee's a big girl now, you have the freedom to follow him. You're willing to find out where your brother is, right?"
Klee nodded, face contorted in childish yet reasonable anger.
Dorian gave her a small and merciful smile.
"Then why don't you come with me? There's a statue of the seven near a cliff here. Let's ask Lord Barbatos for his guidance."
If he could laugh, he would.
As if he ever needed an Archon's guidance for anything. He knows where this child's "brother" is,
and he knows exactly where you are too, "Luthien." The faulty post office essentially confirms it.
"Where is he? Where's Albedo?"
Dorian watched as Klee survey Dragonspine's terrain near Barbatos' statue. She inched closer to the edge, squinting her eyes as though she'd find him.
"Why don't you lean in closer? Let me help you."
"Okay..."
The chalk raised his hands and gave her one gentle and friendly push.
...
No matter how much a body weighs, it sounds so much softer when landing on thick snow from afar. Then again, maybe it's just the Anemo Archon's blessing that he did not hear her screams. After all:
Let the wind lead.
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princessanonymous · 3 months
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When Night Comes
Platonic Yandere Vampire
Previous Part | Next Part
First Chapter
19. 𝓓𝓮𝓼𝓹𝓪𝓲𝓻’𝓼 𝓠𝓾𝓲𝓬𝓴𝓮𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰
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"Where is she?!" Dorian's frantic voice echoed through the estate, his worry palpable.
As servants scurried in a hurried search, their footsteps resonating in sync with the ominous silence that enveloped the estate, Dorian's desperation escalated. Each passing moment felt like an eternity, and the once serene atmosphere now crackled with tension. Meanwhile, Killian leaned lazily against a wall, a stark contrast to the frantic pacing of the distressed father. His nonchalant demeanor, seemingly unaffected by the unfolding drama. He appeared to be more an observer of chaos than a participant in the search.
In a corner of the room, the coffin manufacturer sat in a plush chair, bewildered by the sudden panic that had gripped the once serene household. His eyes darted nervously from one end of the room to the other, as if expecting answers to manifest in the luxurious surroundings. The elegance of the room juxtaposed with the disarray of emotions, creating an atmosphere that seemed almost surreal for the mortal.
"She couldn't have left without anyone noticing," Dorian reasoned, his brow furrowed with concern. The frantic search continued, but the mansion offered no clues to the disappearance of his daughter. The air was thick with uncertainty, and the urgency of the situation hung palpably in the atmosphere. The blonde, casting a penetrating gaze at Killian, turned to the other vampire with an accusatory tone. "Why don't you do anything?"
"What is there to do?" Killian retorted haughtily. "She left. Accept it."
Anger flared within Dorian. "Accept it!?" he repeated with outrage. "My daughter is out there somewhere, alone with nobody to protect her !”
As the words lingered in his mind, Dorian's panic escalated. The memory of (Y/n)'s previous escape, when she had been attacked by a sanguini, intensified his resolve. He wouldn't let this happen once again. She was mortal, completely defenseless and weak. 
"Walking around aimlessly will not help," Killian answered with a sigh. "You may live."
Dorion looked at him, bewildered by the command before realizing the second part had been aimed at the coffin-maker who was still in the room. He turned his gaze toward the mortal, a bewildered look in his eyes as he processed Killian's command. The man, caught off guard, hesitated for a moment before nodding in acknowledgment. Slowly, he made his way towards the exit, leaving the room as instructed by the enigmatic vampire. He had forgotten about him, his mind having focused on the girl. 
Dorian's focus, however, quickly returned to the pressing matter at hand – the whereabouts of his daughter. The gravity of the situation weighed heavily on him, and he couldn't shake the fear that gripped his heart. The thought of his daughter being out there, alone in an unforgiving world, sent shivers down his spine. The once grandiose room now seemed suffocating, its walls closing in as Dorian's mind raced with worry. He couldn't fathom what his daughter might be experiencing, and the very idea that she could be subjected to unforgivable things gnawed at him. His protective instincts kicked in, overshadowing everything else.
Some people would not think twice about taking advantage of young, impressionable minds like his weak, fragile (Y/n). She was so frail; she wouldn't survive on her own. She was utterly, completely, truly alone. The child was so naive thinking that any mortal would simply take her in hearing her plight, but they wouldn't.
He felt Killian's hand on his shoulder. "Sit," he advised him while leading him to an armrest. "Your power is affecting the room; calm down."
He looked around, noticing the ice covering the place where he had been standing just moments before. "She's out there," he protested, clenching his fists, "I just can't..."
"You must stay calm," his partner said with conviction, "servants are already looking for her."
Dorian's eyes flickered with a mixture of frustration and fear. Despite the efforts of the servants scouring the estate, the absence of tangible information only fueled his worry. Useless. They were all utterly useless. It was preposterous. She had left once, and now once again they managed to let her slip through them. They would pay. He would deal with them after after finding his child. He could feel the seconds ticking away, each one adding to the uncertainty surrounding his daughter's disappearance.
He shook his head and stood once again, resuming his pacing, "There are three paths she could have taken," he mused out loud." The first is the one she took during her first escapade which I doubt she would take again. She can be quite clever. The second is one more remote that leads to a nunnery, but I doubt she even knows of the existence of this path. She would have had to walk through the nearby forest for at least an out by foot to even notice it. She doesn't leave home. She knows she isn't allowed to... and yet here we are. The third one however... while long, leads to a village and if this foolish daughter of mine—"
"The carpet; you're freezing the carpet," Killian admonished while pinching the bridge of his nose. "(Y/n) is a resourceful young girl, Dorian."
He tried laughing, but it sounded wet and slightly hysterical. "Don't be ridiculous. She can't survive on her own! She's so—fragile, and helpless and she could break at any second and— and she's out there!" He gestured out the window. He collapsed on the couch, shaking his head. "And if something happens to her... if something happens to my poor child..."
Each day, she mattered so much more to him. More than she had when he had first met her on that clearing. She had made him care for her. He cared so much for her. He couldn’t just let her go. He wouldn’t forgive himself. 
If something happened to (Y/n), Dorian knew it would completely shatter him.
Dorian looked up, his eyes teary and filled with a mix of frustration, fear, and desperation. Killian, sensing the need for comfort, passed an arm around Dorian's shoulders. The touch, though subtle, carried a warmth that overcame their cold exterior. The blond vampire reacted by resting his head on his lover's shoulder, finding solace in the physical closeness. Killian's presence, like an anchor in the storm of emotions, had a way of grounding Dorian back to the present when he felt himself spiraling into the abyss of worry and uncertainty.
"Dorian," Killian whispered, "calm down, just for a second. Breathe."
He nodded, chuckling slightly at the suggestion. He didn't need to breathe. "Such a human thing to do," he commented, feeling himself calm down slightly, slowly but surely.
Killian nodded, agreeing, "You know me." He sighed softly. "Why don't we focus on something else while the servants search?"
"Like what ?' He questioned reluctantly.
"Forget the girl for now, Dorian," he suggested calmly. The words were said with a soft, yet confident voice. "I'm sure she is fine."
The bland looked up in anger at the remark. His anger grew once his icy blue eyes met Dorian's bright red ones. A cold feeling washed over him, realizing the other had tried to use a moment of emotional vulnerability against him. Leaning forward and clenching his fists, he demanded, "What did you try to do?"
Killian looked away, giving him no answer. The blond gripped his lover's arm, his nails digging in his skin. The other only flinched slightly, almost imperceptibly, "What did you try to do?" He winced, but Dorian did not care. Fury roared through his mind.
He knew his partner's power very well. Knew that he hardly used it, but knew nonetheless the signs of it. "Did you try to make me forget about her?"
His silence was enough of an answer on its own. He felt betrayed and furious at the mere idea that Killian of all people would dare to use his mind control powers on him. He was about to explode with rage, unable to understand why he would try to use them for this. Dorian had seen Killian and (Y/n) interact together, he had witnessed the bond they shared grow. He couldn't understand why the man would simply decide to let it go. One shouldn't let go of the people they cared about so easily.
Wheels turned inside his head, and realization dawned upon him. He stood up and Killian followed suit. "It is you," he accused, pointing a finger. "You let her leave.” 
While Killian neither confirmed nor denied it verbally, Dorian already knew the answer. In a surge of fury, he lunged at Killian, gripping the other's shirt threateningly as his mind spun. "Killian, you—"
"Sir," a servant entered the room, breaking the tension. "It appears she has left on horseback; one is missing."
Flashes of worst-case scenarios flooded Dorian's mind. (Y/n) could have had an accident, been attacked. The horse might have rebelled. (Y/n) didn’t know how to ride a horse; he had never taught her for that reason. So that she wouldn’t attempt anything stupid. She could be dead by now. Dead, alone, and rotting in the wilderness.
He clutched Killian's shirt with a vice-like grip, feeling wetness in his eyes and his throat tightening. "You can't—" he glowered. "You can't do this to me, Killian."
The other offered no response. His eyes were cold and held no regret. He might have left the poor child to die and he did not care. Dorian’s weak pleas were met with indifference. This was his child, his daughter. He couldn't let her be taken away from him. How dare he do this ? How could he ? "Tell me!" Dorian pleaded desperately. "Tell me where you told her to go !"
No answer. 
No reaction. 
Dorian's face fell, and he began to tremble. "You can't do this to me, Killian," he whispered weakly. "You can't..."
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carnivorousyandeere · 6 months
Note
can we maybe get a full fic of Dorian and dominant asmrtist darling who's actually submissive
Dorian + Submissive ASMRtist Darling
( MDNI, No Age in Bio DNI )
CW: not super explicit but still vaguely smutty, recording without Darling’s knowledge, themes of voyeurism
Info: subby gn Darling
Dorian can’t stand it.
You and he both know what you do for a living. He’s your biggest supporter, after all. He thought having that acceptance from him, and financial security, would make you feel more comfortable.
And yet, you seem more nervous than ever in his presence. How is it that he has failed to end up on the domineering receiving end of that fire of yours? That wonderful voice of yours, and the expressions he’s always imagined go with it— everything from an encouraging soft dom smile, to a condescending sneer, to a cold expectant look.
Why is it that he can only catch those expressions through a peephole in the wall as you record? How long will it take for you to crack and take him? Is he not giving you enough money? Is he not performing the role of a needy submissive well enough for you? Is he not your type? Do you hate him?
Dorian’s usually not the boldest, but his patience has its limits. He interrupts one of your recordings, knocking on the door. You don’t answer, perhaps hoping he’ll walk away, but no such luck.
Dorian swings the door open gently. “Knock knock. What are you working on today?”
“Uhhh…” you look like a deer in headlights, eloquence gone and voice small. You turn off your recording. He tamps down his disappointment—part of him was hoping you’d get angry at his intrusion on your work. “Just… you know, an audio… found a new script, and… wanted… to give it a try?”
He can’t deny that your uncertainty is a bit cute. “What kind of script?”
You swallow and look away, embarrassed. “It’s… a little spicy. Um, a… dom speaker getting possessive at a party….”
“Oh?” Dorian steps closer, leaning against your desk and almost bumping into your mic. He notices your eyes widen with panic, fingers stretching out with the need to protect the equipment, but stopping just short of making contact with his arm. He sighs. You wither a little at the sound.
“You know…” he muses, turning to face you more fully, “I am a little surprised. You seem so much different in person than in your recordings… I know you’re an actor, but your performances are just so damn convincing.”
You laugh nervously. “Thank you for saying so… I really try my best. It’s… not always easy to act in a way that doesn’t feel natural.”
“Not natural?” His fingers pause where they’d been running over the smooth surface of your desk. “How so?”
“W-well…” now you’re truly flustered. Excitement wells in Dorian’s gut. It might not be what he expected, but damn if the real you isn’t all the better. He reaches over and cages you in against the desk. You swallow harshly as Dorian reaches up and traces your throat reverently, smoothing his fingers over your voice box and sliding them over to feel your hummingbird pulse. “Tell me. Use that lovely voice of yours.”
You let out a choked noise, clearing your throat and blinking out the foggy look in your eyes. “…I’m… actually… uh, not a… very dominant person…”
Dorian hums thoughtfully. “Why bother with acting the part of a dominant, then? You sound so lovely right now, so flustered and shy…”
You squirm. “I-it’s just what my listeners prefer…”
“Listeners?” Dorian’s eyes darken. They look, for all the world, like roiling storm clouds. A shiver runs down your back, the same shiver you get before rain comes.
“The only listener,” he leans in and nips harshly at your neck just over his hand, “you should be worried about… is me.”
You whimper, trembling in his grasp. Dorian bites you again, harder, just to feel you jerk in his hold and hear that pretty gasp of yours. Maybe it is better that he’ll be the only one to get to hear you like this. The thought of other people listening to you makes his skin crawl. Dorian kisses you, swallowing your sounds down greedily as he touches you through your clothes, and then slides his hand past your underwear.
He’s going to take you apart piece by piece and hear every sound you have to offer, and when you’re all fucked out and stupid in the studio, he’s going to save the recording of your time together on a flash drive and delete it from his computer. Of course you didn’t notice him turn the microphone back on, did you?
He’ll have to add a camera to the room for good measure next time…
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recreationalfanfics · 9 months
Note
*chin hands* assassin's creed on the mind eh? Do tell 👀
OKAY SO ONE IDEA I DEF WANNA USE IN THE FUTURE WOULD BE YANDERE EAGLE VISION. Like, if an assassin/eagle vision user becomes obsessed with a darling, then instead of showing up as red (for enemy) or green (for ally), then their darling would show up as either a pink silhouette or something.
NOT ONLY THAT, BUT, LIKE DIFFERENT ASSASSIN'S TRYING TO FIGURE OUT WHAT IT MEANS/ALREADY KNOWING WHAT IT MEANS.
Like Ezio using eagle vision and he sees his darling is a different color from everyone else, he instantly believes its a sign their soul mates and will shamelessly follow them, either from the shadows or blatantly walking after them like a lost puppy.
Altaïr believing something is wrong when his eagle vision acts up and only towards you, the person who served no real importance but never seemed to leave his mind. He decides to use it as an excuse to stalk you, after all, it was fine before YOU came along and he's just trying to figure out if it means if you're a threat or not. Deep down, he knows what it actually means but it gives him a good excuse to stalk you.
Connor absolutely is baffled when he notices a pink figure and when he switches back to his normal vision, he sees its you. He doesn't voice this out to anyone because its not that important, right? Plus, he truly wouldn't want to disturb you with that knowledge and, when you really think about it, it's rather helpful for the both of you! Now Connor can keep tabs on you and you won't ever have to worry about anything hurting you because Connor will always be waiting in the shadows to protect you.
Evie would be a Lucid yandere, the moment you become miscolored in a way she's never heard of, she's doing some research on her own time and found out about rare instances assassin's who found their "soul mates" with their eagle vision. Like Connor and Altaïr, she would definetly use it as an excuse to be able to stalk you while keeping her conscious clear. It's not her fault technically and yes, maybe she is tailing behind you and her heart soars at the thought of being able to pick you out of the crowd and track you down so easily...but it's only because she can keep you safe!
Jacob doesn't even question it, he also takes it as confirmation that you were meant to be his. He would absolutely take advantage of his new ability and you'd be none the wiser. You try to avoid him by going a different route? He somehow ends up calling your name and happily running over to you and you're wondering how could he have known. You're bumping into him a lot more often when doing mundane things? Haha, what a coincidence! May as well hang on his arm and let him treat you to a nice drink! Just the image of Jacob desperately jumping from rooftop to rooftop using eagle vision only to stop and smile to himself when he sees your silhouette makes me so happy-
EDWARD DOESN'T REALLY QUESTION IT, HE'S JUST GLAD HE CAN HAVE PIECE OF MIND WHEN IT COMES TO YOU TBH. He knows what he's doing is shady but at the same time, he can't help it. But also moments when you manage to sneak away from him and he just easily walks towards were you're hiding and it fills you with so much dread and panic and you're not sure how he manages to do that every single time.
AAAH, IMAGINE ARNO BEING ALL SMUG ABOUT IT. Like, you're both at a gala somewhere and you try to lose him in the crowd, not wanting to deal with his possessive behavior but no matter how many people are in the way, Arno uses his eagle vision and pushes and shoves past people as he makes his way towards you. Just when you think you lost him, you feel his hand wrap around your wrist and pull you close and his hood is over his head, revealing nothing more than a sly grin.
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a-reverii · 6 months
Text
▸ IMAGINES
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━ GRISHAVERSE ⌵
kaz brekker
this shelf is empty
aleksander morozova
me and my husband. ⋮ ( fluff , angst , requested )
› in which, the general neglects you for long, and after an outburst on his part, comes to regret it.
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━ THE WIZARDING WORLD ⌵
sirius orion black
a faithful companion. ⋮ ( dark )
› in which, a black dog seems to keep you company wherever you go.
regulus arcturus black
written in the stars. ⋮ ( fluff )
› in which, two almost-strangers meet one another by coincidence, and find that they may have more in common than they initially thought.
to love and to lose. ⋮ ( fluff )
› in which, your lover is gone, and you have no idea what to do about it.
people help the people. ⋮ ( angst , hurt / comfort )
› in which, regulus had been avoiding you and you come to discover why.
remus lupin
this shelf is empty
cedric diggory
this shelf is empty
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━ MISCELLANEOUS ⌵
dorian gray
only ones who know. ⋮ ( fluff, requested )
› in which, you spend a quiet morning with your lover, dorian gray.
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━━ ( navigation ) ( masterlist ) ( request )
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yandere-writer-momo · 11 months
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i have a cute hc platonic yan dorian idea
Imagine reader is baki's bsf. Reader and Dorian meet up with each other and they both grew bond found family in each other.
Just funny how would it be when Reader wants to introduce Baki to Dorian but reader doesn't know Dorian's real identity and Reader casually introduce dorian to him
"Baki, meet pops. He is the one im talking about"
reader is just : 😊 while baki is like : 😦
Dorian is such a cute little old grandpa after the fight with Retsu so I’m head canoning him as the after effect. So we’re continuing from my last head canon as you being friends with Dorian even after his accident… with a side of yandere platonic Baki
Here’s some food @doriansear
Yandere Baki Head Canons
Being friends with Dorian (continued)
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You bring Baki to the psyche ward with you to meet the lonely, old man you befriended at your maid cafe job.
“Dolly!” Baki almost punched Dorian in the face when the old man came hurtling toward you to hug your legs, just like a child. What the hell?!
Baki would be shocked to stay the least when you introduce Dorian to him. Baki immediately gets into a defensive position as you shriek at him. “Dorian is mentally handicapped, how could you do that?”
Baki is she’ll shocked to say the least to find out you’re friends with an ex convict but Baki can tell that there’s not a thought behind Dorian’s blue eyes.
Baki observes your interactions with the handicapped man and he relaxes. It’s insane to him how a convict with a reputation like Dorian is now reduced to the mind of a child… it’s sad. Baki almost feels bad for him. Almost
Baki is a little jealous of how much you dote on the giant man. How come you don’t dote on him like that? You always jokingly call Baki your little brother so why don’t you bring him candy?
You read a picture storybook to Dorian as the older man laughs and claps his hands. It’s like you were taking care of a little kid. It’s warmed Baki’s heart but at the same time, he was jealous
Baki watched as you played patty cake with Dorian and you gifted Dorian new clothes for his doll. It was like Dorian was your little brother Baki was your little brother
After the two of you left, Baki turned to you and asked if you had any candy left. Baki wanted you to spoil him too… just let him be your little brother. Stop giving your attention to a man who didn’t even know who he was anymore…
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Text
" Bloody Mary. "
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A little songfic that's inspired by the same name, featuring Albedo... Or is it him?
Synopsis: Maybe you shouldn't have caught his attention... Or investigated what he meant from the cryptic story he told you.
C.W.: Spoilers to Albedo's second Dragonspine event, death and being trapped. If you squint, you can see yandere vibes here (gender neutral pronouns for reader <3!)
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You shouldn't have came to Dragonspine.
You should have thought better when Albedo warned you not to come back to Dragonspine again, and especially after all that had happened during the impostor situation.
You should have thought better when he told you about his story with the previous creations like him in the guise of it being three roses being differentiated by a gardener.
You should have thought better when you saw that look on his face that it wouldn't do any good if you investigated, and even down to the lack of the star on his neck.
And yet you still came to Dragonspine.
It feels like a curse when you decided to come back here again, you noted. Although the place hadn't changed much from it reminding you of a snowy wonderland, you noted that the atmosphere is tense. The stillness of this place was the one you caught on when you came— unlike the atmosphere that you were used to like the ones in the Chasm or even in Inazuma, Dragonspine felt the eerie chill when it comes to its surroundings.
And it unnerved you to no end.
As you trudged on to the Frostbearing Tree, you couldn't help but notice the lack of hilichurls and lawachurls around the place. You would've caught sight of them here usually, but seeing no one around was concerning.
Maybe they were killed by one of the adventurers...?
Or maybe it was something worse than that?
When you were sure you'd be warm enough to travel onwards, you left the tree be and continued on the path, taking note of the absence of the Fatui soldiers and the treasure hoarders. It's strange, seeing that they aren't present in such a hostile environment, though you chalked it up to them having business elsewhere.
You knew the Fatui members were still around somewhere. It's not like they'd c̸̛̮̥̫͕̻̯̝̻̝̻̘̻̈́̄̋̈́͆̔̾̅̈́͑̐͜͝͝e̶̢̻̱̪̦̬͇̗͈̱̒͑̎̎͒͐̃͘ą̴̛̯͙͕̼̼̯̟̼̞̀̿̈́̐͐͋̇̕̕͝s̴͇̬̬̄͊̓́̔͒͂̌͌̎͝͝͠ȩ̸̭͔̱̅̐̌̃͑̈́ ̴͚͙̫̓́̈̇͠ţ̶̡̧̢̨͇̪̱̱͈̬̟̦̩̯̀ơ̷̧̬̤͍̩̦̝̺͛̉̓͋̇̏̃̽̄͜ ̵̨̳̜̓̿̂̽̊͒ͅè̶̟̈́͜x̶̛̪̼̬͓́̄̂͋͒̍̈́͝i̶͔͉̠̱̮̜̜͍̗̥̾̋̑̃̂͊̀̈́̒̆̀̓ş̴̡̣̖̫͓͙̭̝̘̬̒́͑̐͊̋͠t̵̡̨͎͎̤̹̞̦̭͇͍͎̯́̽̔͛̄̈́͜ leave such a place, right? Right.
Heading up to the bridge, you noticed the fallen machinery on the side and you felt like your gut is telling you to leave. The atmosphere had gotten tenser and tenser upon seeing that they looked dismantled; broken and ripped apart into multiple pieces. You couldn't help but shiver, but you don't know if its from the cold or something else.
What happened here, exactly?
The trek upward took a bit longer than you expected as you kept an eye on what goes on around you. The sight of the absence of the enemies, the broken machinery, and the increased chill you've felt the higher you went...
It didn't help that the statues you saw of Barbatos seem... Snowed in. You couldn't even go up to it to pray for its blessings, for it felt like ice when you dare to touch it— and you had to pull your hand away when you felt it.
Something is definitely wrong here, and you don't know what to make of it.
The only plausible option you have left was to get to Albedo at this point. You had no options left, and in your mind, you had to consult the alchemist about what is happening and the changes you've seen here.
And so you went off, not knowing the fate that will soon befall you.
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The journey took a long, long while for you to overcome.
You had to take note of everything that had happened in this place: the lack of enemies around you, the abandoned campsites with journals left for you to read what had happened to them, and even strays of evidence that would lead you to new areas that you never got to before.
Even after you reached Albedo's camp, you would find that it was deserted. Save for how it looked like it was the same as you saw it before, the man of the hour is not present.
And that's what makes it worrying.
You did spot a note that was left on the desk, though— placed on top of the warming potions and an unfinished sketch on the paper. Walking over, you took the note and began to read what it says.
[ I must set things right.
I need to clear out the scene and see to it that he won't appear again. ]
And... That was it.
You couldn't help but contemplate what he wrote. What did he mean he had to set it right? Did he thought that the impostor would return and needed to make sure he was gone? Was he aware of what is happening here?
You have so much to ask of him, of what he truly meant, but... Perhaps you should look for him.
Judging by what he wrote, you had a clear idea on where he'd go. It was the only place you knew by heart that he'd go first— after all, it was where they confronted the impostor and fought him.
All you had to do was be prepared for the worst when you get there.
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... Which comes down to where you are today.
You could feel your limbs stuck in place as the ice began to gnaw at it, and try as you might, you wouldn't be able to free yourself from it.
You could feel the ice and snow nipping at your limbs as the man you sought out for walk closer and closer to you. His blade was coated in blood, glowing a bright purple with the eye gazing at you with intentions best left unknown. Though, the biggest shock you have was the sight of the alchemist.
...
And especially the lack of the star on his neck.
Upon seeing that you noticed it, he couldn't help but smile and walk over, sheathing the sword aside to crouch down to your level. You felt your body quiver and shake when he raised his hand to hold your chin.
Ç̵̫̣̪̪̰̫̤̩̏̑̈̈́̄͛̽̈̓̓u̶̡͎̻̜̩͕͚͓͓̲̥͍̫͉̔̑t̴͙͎͍̱̹̞͇̬͗͑̆̓̂̂̓̏͐̃̔͛̈́̾̕ͅȩ̴͎̞̗̻͈̘̖̟̉́͜ͅ.̸̧̢̱̙͓̬̤̘̲̟̻̫̱͉̀̿̒͑̽̇̓̈́̓͌̅̽̀͜͝
"A- Albedo—" you muttered, your arms trying to move to get away from the trap you were in. Please, I have to get out. I have to get to somewhere safe and away—
"Please— let me go, I- I'm freezing here."
"Let you go?" the alchemist repeated, his smile widening even more as he kept a tight grip on your chin. "I'm afraid I can't— no, I won't help you, my dearest."
He... Won't?
"Who's to say you'll leave me when you get out, hm? It'd be a shame if I lose you now," he continued, his other hand simply moving over to brush to strands of your hair and gently sifting through it. "And I refuse to believe that you wouldn't tell the others about this."
... Ah. Touche.
"Although, seeing you like this... I suppose I pity you for how you look before me," he concluded, his eyes glowing as he tightened his grip once more. "Even if you knew not to find him."
...
Wait-
"Haha~ you just noticed now, hm?" 'Albedo'— no, Subject 2— asked, his tone mocking as he drank in the look of shock on your face. "All this time, the man that you thought you were going to meet isn't even there anymore. I thought you of all people would notice, but it seems that you hadn't. Such a shame."
You still tried to struggle as he continued to speak, though that was only met with the ice gnawing more and more on their body. He couldn't help but let out a laugh, seeing how desperate you are.
Pathetic, isn't it?
"Relax, dear. I don't plan on prolonging my torment onto you," he said, leaning closer to eye the condition you're in. "On the contrary, I plan to keep you here... At least, frozen in time."
"W... What do you mean?"
For a moment, the latter paused, before chuckling.
"What do I mean? My dear, you fascinate me. I believe what I mean is that you... Have my interest."
His gloved finger simply traced your chin before it raised up to cup your cheek. His eyes seem to soften watching you, almost... Pondering over something with the state you were in.
"It is, admittedly, my first to have someone catch my eye. You are one of the few I can say that isn't... Tedious to be with, even after all that we've endured. That I endured."
As he spoke, his smile fell to a snarl, clearly displeased.
"It took me so, so long to be able to get you fair and square... If it wasn't for him, I would've got you long ago with less lethal methods," he continued, huffing. "Although, I suppose I understood why he never gave in and let you go from his clutches. In its own right, we are all flawed with how we were made."
To prove his point, he lowered his hand and simply placed it on your arms. Although it had been stuck due to the ice, he still traced it like he can still feel the skin under the cold.
"We may be gifted with the knowledge of alchemy, but we are not as fortunate to learn about the concepts of love. We had not even experienced how it truly feels to be loved unconditionally, and especially romantically."
... Oh. Now you can understand what he meant. Although...
"But I suppose I will take this for what it is," he concluded, the ice slowly gnawing and reaching up more and more to your body. "After all, you would surely reject me if I were to let you go now. I should have expected this."
As the subject stood up, he looked into your eyes with a blank look on his face. Although, it didn't took long until a smile stretched his lips.
And the next thing you felt was something cold and sharp hitting your back.
...
Cough. Cough.
Blood.
Blood is the next thing your blurry vision can see.
You can feel your body shiver more as the ice shard from behind seem to dig into your body more and more, the chilliness of the abandoned mountain being amplified by ten the longer you were stuck there.
And in a fleeting moment, you opened your lips to speak one more time.
"Please... Let me go..."
And for a single moment, he leaned back to seal his lips with yours in a fleeting kiss of goodbye...
... As the ice simply ate your form alive, now forever keeping you stuck in place and showing the face you have made in your death.
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© ᴄʜᴇʀʀʏ-ᴄᴏʟᴏʀᴇᴅ-ᴘᴇᴛᴀʟs : 𝟸𝟶𝟸𝟹 ♡ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛ ᴏʀ sᴛᴇᴀʟ/ᴘʟᴀɢɪᴀʀɪᴢᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ♡ ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢs, ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴇɴᴛs, ᴀɴᴅ ᴀsᴋs ᴀʀᴇ ʜɪɢʜʟʏ ᴀᴘᴘʀᴇᴄɪᴀᴛᴇᴅ
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reverii-library · 7 months
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▸ TAGS.
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━━ ✰ by pairing.
# my : kaz brekker x reader
# my : aleksander morozova x reader
# my : sirius black x reader
# my : regulus black x reader
# my : tom riddle x reader
# my : cedric diggory x reader
# my : dorian gray x reader
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━━ ✰ by type.
# my : requested
# my : angst
# my : fluff
# my : darkfics / yandere
# my : suggestive
# my : favorites
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k-marzolf · 8 months
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I wanna hold you high and steal your pain away.
yandere, fluff, possessive behavior, fem!reader.
@idaofinfinity @e-dubbc11 @rosaleenablack @firexfate @aoi-targaryen
Wicked Game Masterlist
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x
“Your voice is like honey to me. Don’t stop.” You murmured sleepily, pressed into his side, making your glasses askew on your face.
“You can barely keep your eyes open, bunny.” He husked, playing with your hair.
“Just one more chapter.” You begged, forcing your eyes open, never having had someone read to you, never feeling so loved, safe, like you’d sunk into a warm bath.
Billy hummed, kissing your head, feeling feral for you. Like he’d burn the world down for you, if you only wanted him and him alone. “Okay, bunny. One more.” He said, turning the page, realizing Dorian Gray was hardly a bedtime story, but you’d never complained.
You were asleep halfway through the chapter, but Billy’s heart was full.
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whorediaries-09 · 5 months
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put your life out on the line"
hello my loveliest people. thank you so much for 400 followers.
i hold this event for the festive season knocks at our door, the cold air biting our noses and the laziness forces us to stay under the warmth of our blankets.
so grab your cup of hot chocolate and favorite snacks as i host my early winter event.
the event lasts from 20-11-23 to 3-12-23.
the slut club
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you want in but you just can't win
while sending in requests please be nice and care enough to write a greeting. i'm human too and being kind helps. please be specific about your request. there are certain characters i don't write for, and you will find it in my navigation (pinned post and linked above).
please excuse me if i don't write your request. it may happen if the request did not hit my creative spot.
please request through the inbox. if you directly message me, there are chances i may miss them.
❁❁☆☆
you want in but you just can't win 🌠- this one remains the oldest one in the book. send me a trope along with an emotion and a character and i'll write you a blurb or a fic.
for example: friends to lovers (jealousy) with james potter.
a little party never hurt no one 🧨- send me a request with a character and an au! and i'll write you a blurb or a fic.
for example: cult!au with sirius black.
shining like gun metal 🚅- this blog celebrates all your horny thoughts without shaming you. send in a request for a smut blurb or a fic.
for example: use of collars during sex with billy russo.
you try to ignore them 🪻- send me a request with a character, offer a little plot for an angsty blurb or a fic.
for example: unrequited love with remus lupin.
'cause you want more 🎗️- send me a request with a character for a fluff blurb or a fic.
for example: lily finding out she smells reader in her brew of amortentia.
so you stay out late 🧭- send me a request for a moodboard. please remain specific with a trope and a particular emotion.
for example: arranged marriage with sirius black.
you're crazy all the time 🎇- send me a request for a dark themed blurb or a fic. remember if you request this, you're probably going to get nsfw content. so please be specific.
for example: dark!dorian gray x artist!reader
ᓚᘏᗢ ❁❁
here are some prompt lists by amazing creators you can use for inspiration.
yandere prompt list fluff prompt list angst prompt list smut prompt list
tropes
au!'s
tagging lovely people who have participated in my events before; @siriuslycaptainofthedawntreader @dreamalittledreamofthemarauders @eternallybipanicking
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cxlvinmcmxrray · 7 months
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THE .. LINDEY HOP , , ? | ⫻ WELCOME TO MY BLOG !
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heyo , i am urena ! call me MOD CALVIN !
i go by they / them , 23 years old and has adhd. be nice with me if you can.
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1. dont be a asshole please.
2. AVOID SPAMMING THE SAME REQUESTS . i will block you immediately.
3. dni to discourse and the basic dni criteria.
4. If i delete / deny your request- do NOT dm me and call me dirty names or send me threats. I WILL BLOCK YOU.
I can write :
Canon x Canon
Canon x Reader
Fluff
Angst ?
More things will be added soon.
Characters :
Mordecai Heller
Rocky Rickaby
Ivy Pepper
Sedgewick Sable
Dorian Zibowski
Mitzi May
I cannot write :
Nsfw. ( I suck at writing that sorry 💦)
weird ass STUFF
proship / minor x legal character
Poly ships ( ill learn how to write a polyship so. o worries)
yandere
a toxic relationship between characters or reader.
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What types of writings I can do :
Oneshots (Not available right now sorry !)
Headcanons
Crackshots ( haha yeah )
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Wait how do I request ?
Specify what character and what type of reader that they would be and etc. Also specify the types of writing and lastly fluff or angst. Or just .. yeah.
Note :
Im open how to write characters so i can understand them more ! so please help me if you can.
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Anyway thank you for reading and im really hoping to get requests.
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mystical-lemonade · 2 years
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Hidden Beneath the Paint
Warnings: Explicit Violence, Blood, Toxic/Abusive Relationships, Unhealthy Power Dynamics, Kidnapping, Nudity, Death, Yandere
Wordcount: 8,440
Pairings: Yandere! Rook Hunt x gn!reader
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Within the National Museum of Art a small group of people stood in front of a painting of a tiger sitting in the shade of a mango tree. They were all carefully inspecting it not in criticism but in complete awe of the artist.
“The tiger feels as though it might stand up and start to chase me any second.This is truly Mr. Hunt’s best work,” Chirped an overly enthusiastic art director, having just bought the painting. A wave of appreciative murmurs flowed across the crowd as they all continued to heap praise upon the stunning works of Mr. Hunt. 
Little did the crowd know that the object of their praise was merely a room over in the gallery, browsing amongst the photography section. Rook Hunt as he was known to the public was getting quite tired of the same song and dance that he was required to go through during the showings of his work. Listen to the endless droll of people lauding him for his works, pretend to be humble and deny his talent, talk about his next project. The ceaseless praises that had once fueled the younger more naïve version of him’s desire to jump into painting once more, was now a cause for him to postpone his next project. That desire had dried up along with his boyhood. 
After countless years of immortalizing forests, tundras, fields of flowers, the savanna and the majority of the animals that call those habitats home, Rook had recently found his well of inspiration had dried up as well. He missed the days that his ability to find beauty in the natural world around him was readily available.
He sighed fondly at the memory of running through this very building to look at the impressionist paintings that dazzled him in his teenage years. Although he had never been an impressionist himself he had always loved the simplistic beauty of them, the bright colours and stunningly pure subjects had always intrigued him. It was that desire for purity that had often bothered the public who viewed his work. 
Peering eyes who knew nothing at all about him or his methods always pestered him with the same question. Why do you refuse to paint people? And in truth, the answer was simple, Rook had always thought of them as dull subjects. In his eyes humans are a still lit cigarette butt. They are fiery for but a moment until they hit the pavement and flicker out. They are used up and disgusting, tainting anything they come in contact with. And only a desperate fool would see anything worth immortalizing on canvas in them. 
But the truth is harsh to the ears of the unaware, so he lies and makes excuses. Saying things like ‘ I haven't met my muse quite yet’ or ‘My skills in painting people never comes close to matching the quality of my other works. And I only want to show the very best work I can to you all’. He then will smile shyly before politely excusing himself.
After a moment more in the gallery he exited with a flourish, dissatisfied yet again with a place he thought might bring his inspiration back home to his arms. His self pitying spree had so far taken him through over half of the city and was driving him further into a nihilistic chasm. The spiral of thought provoking reminiscing Rook was going through was abruptly interrupted by a tap on the shoulder accompanied by a soft voice.
“Excuse me sir, but I was wondering if you might be able to help me. I'm a bit lost.” 
They were shorter than him and they appeared to be, almost scared. When he locked eyes with them his misery dissipated, slowly but surely. With a smile growing across his face like a spring’s bloom after a violent winter he reassured the stranger.
 “Where are you heading?” He inquired. 
“I need to find Dorian Hall, I was told it was on Campus but near the museum but… so far I haven't seen anything close.” They confessed. 
Rook nodded as they explained, he had noticed that they subconsciously fluttered their hands when they spoke and he was completely enamored by it. 
“I would be happy to guide you, I was actually heading that way myself,” He spoke with a slight chuckle, as he held out his arm for them to take with a charming confidence. The custom was dated in this century but he was always taught to be a gentleman, plus it never hurts to make the lasting impression you leave on others. 
Not a single word was shared between them as they walked but Rook felt as though nothing needed to be said. They were comfortable in each other's presence. He found himself admiring the way the light was hitting their face, it danced across their cheekbones as though it meant to show him all the beautiful parts of them. The breeze danced through their hair, and Rook felt time crawl to a halt. He found himself at a loss for words to convey what exactly he was seeing in front of him. In all his years Rook had never thought he’d meet a person like this stranger. His thoughts were halted from sheer disbelief.
They were looking at the world around them with the innocent eyes of a child seeing everything for the first time. But behind that was the appreciation of one who had lived a full life. They shied away from the many stares of passing pedestrians and pulled Rook progressively closer to them with every judgemental gaze that landed on the two of them. It was as though they were looking to him for protection. They moved with the purpose of a brand new fawn learning to walk, hesitantly but with pure determination to show that they were grown enough to be trusted with caring for themself. 
Rook’s hand twitched with the reflex of a carnal desire he hadn't felt for a long time. A desire to recreate the scene in front of him. A desire to immortalize the feeling of a walk with this familiar stranger. To make sure that when his beloved inevitably faced the world he was there by their side, waiting to carry them away. A desire to protect them from the corruption that smears its influence all over the people who refused to feed it in the first place. 
He felt a desire to paint.
Bringing their hand up to his lips he boldly locked gazes with them as he placed a whisper of a kiss against their knuckles. He thought that their cheeks flushed rather prettily under his gaze, with a confident smirk he spoke in the gentle way one does as they share their heart with a lover under the cloak of the moon’s light. “My name is Rook Hunt. I haven't been inspired to paint in months, however, after spending not even half an hour with you, I have found my inspiration once more. It would be an honour if you would give me your time and allow me to paint you.”
“I’m Y/N and,” Y/N looked down at their feet as they paused, considering their next words.
When they lifted their head, Rook could swear that their eyes were glowing in the light of the morning. 
The bell of the clock above the two rang out the hour, signaling the beginning of classes at the Capital’s University. Y/N bit their lip, quickly writing their contact information on a scrap of paper they had and shoving it into Rook’s hands.
 “I would love to model for you Rook! ” they said quickly, turning to go inside the building. Realizing it was rude to just shove a paper in someone’s hand and run, they called over their shoulder while still maintaining their speed,“Talk to you soon!” 
After Y/N disappeared from his sight Rook walked away from Dorian Hall, with a grin stretching wide across his face, he couldn’t help but think aloud, “You most definitely will be hearing from me soon, my Muse.”
                           ✧₊∘· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·∘₊✧
“So how’d you manage with getting to today’s classes?” 
“Kalim. You would not believe it but, I got lost before my classes could even start,” Y/N said, placing their tray down onto the table. 
Kalim’s hand paused midway to his mouth, the peas on his spoon rolling off as Kalim tipped his head back in laughter. “Y-you. You. Got lost. Be-before classes even began? How’d you manage that? Its like… like the third week into the semester?” His voice wheezed slightly with the exertion of trying to hold back his giggles.
“I don’t know Kalim…I really don’t know,” Y/N’s head was firmly placed in their hands, cheeks aflame with embarrassment. 
As Kalim’s snickering died down and Y/N’s shame receded the duo began their usual lunchtime routine. Their conversation came naturally, and the topics discussed were light hearted as the pair ate. 
“Do you think if I told Prof. Obrecht that I was modeling for a famous artist, he’d give me extra credit?” Y/N said, thoughtfully chewing.
“Pfft, that would be unlikely. I mean you’re even more of an art nerd than he is so it’s unlikely that he’d know them. Plus any person that he would know is not likely to be painting now. You know… ‘cause they’d be dead. He is our Art History professor, so what assignment would he even give you the extra credit on.” Kalim said, tilting his head, “You’re so funny Y/N.”
Y/N looked at Kalim unimpressed, “What’s so funny about my question.”
“Wait… you? Were you being serious?” 
“Yeah Kalim, I am.”
“Okay but like, Y/N. What artist was it?” Kalim leaned forward, clearly very interested.
Y/N smirked, knowing that Kalim was hooked, and they were admittedly feeling quite proud and excited by the news, “Rook.”
Kalim looked quite unimpressed by their answer, so Y/N of course defended themself. “I’m serious! He told me that he’s the artist Rook Hunt!”
Kalim shook his head, looking quite disappointed and almost melancholy, “Y/N, Rook Hunt has never painted a person ever! He even mentioned in an old interview that he thinks humans don’t deserve to be immortalized in his art.” 
“He said I inspired him.” Y/N looked at Kalim with a sour look as he continued, his passionate rant barely affected by Y/N’s interjection. 
“I’m just saying it’s unlikely he’s actually what he said he was! He could be trying to lure you in to get you alone so he can do whatever he wants without anyone getting in his way! This Rook guy could be a rapist! Or a murderer! Or he could be trying to sell your organs to the highest bidder! Anything could happen and-” 
With a sigh Kalim looked away from his friend. “Look, I don’t mean to rain on your parade. Its exciting to be asked by any artist to model, let alone to have them admit they were inspired by you. I just. I want you to be careful Y/N.” 
“I will be Kalim, I promise.” Y/N said empathetically, reaching for their friend’s hand and intertwining their fingers together. 
“Okay. just…maybe text me or your boyfriend when you get to this guy’s studio? Just to make sure someone knows where you are and that you’re safe.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Y/N smiled brightly as they began to eat once more. “Wait Kalim, how do you know so much about Rook anyway? Is someone a secret fan~” They said, waving their fork at him.
“Oh no! I- uh. My mom and Noor, both love the guy’s work. My mom is, like, obsessed to the point that she has like 6 of his paintings on the first floor of our house alone. Noor likes it because it's not only something they can bond with our mom over, but they also told me that they think they hide a hidden melancholy or sometimes even darkness behind the seemingly innocent animal portraits or landscapes. So the two of them know just about everything there is to know about him at the point. And I, I like paying attention to what my family enjoys, so I guess I picked up on a lot of it.” Kalim couldn’t meet his friend’s gaze as he knew his cheeks were practically glowing from how warm they were.
Y/N simply laughed at Kalim’s sweet intentioned shame, the bastard. 
                         ✧₊∘· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·∘₊✧
Y/N stood by the front door of the building in which Rook had set up his studio, and with every passing second their unease grew. It wasn't bad enough that they were generally an anxious person in unfamiliar situations, but after sitting through a rant from Kalim about how Rook could be lying about who he said he was, their heart was racing uncomfortably fast. Or how this whole set up could be a trap and they could kidnapped and raped, their unease was through the roof. Their mind was racing with every possible outcome, and the majority were not good. And now they've been standing in front of the door for at least 10 minutes. 
“Was this guy even the real Rook Hunt? Probably not, I mean like Kalim said everyone knows that Rook Hunt never paints people. The biography on him I found last night even quoted interviews he gave about the subject years ago! Plus he seemed to be quite strange, not speaking to me until just before I had to rush off. But on the other hand, if this is the real guy… Then, what about me changed his mind... Well at the very least I probably won't have to die naked. After all he never said anything about modeling nude,” They huffed as they continued to pace back and forth. 
A soft laugh from behind them interrupted their thoughts, “Good Afternoon Y/N. Mind telling me how long you've been wearing a hole in the hallway carpet?” Rook chuckled adoringly. 
Y/N jumped in surprise, their cheeks flushing in embarrassment at being caught talking to themself. They lowered their gaze as Rook stepped outside the studio. He placed his hand on their shoulders in order to prompt them into looking up at him. 
“Yes I really am the artist Rook, no I am not a serial killer nor a rapist nor any combination of the two. Relax dear Y/N, I mean you no harm, my intentions are pure I swear. I wish with all my heart that you will allow me to recreate your image on canvas. If ever you're not comfortable with anything tell me, and I’ll immediately rectify the situation I promise. I want this to be a good experience for the both of us. Even if you never want the finished work shown to the public then I swear that I will never allow it to be presented,” his voice was almost desperate, however exactly what he was desperate for wasn't entirely clear. 
His tone quickly rectified as he continued to explain himself, “However you have my sincerest apologies if I seemed peculiar yesterday, I was truly just as confused as you are right now. As you said, I have never felt the need to ever paint any human before. Until I met you yesterday that is.” He wordlessly invited Y/N inside by placing a hand on his muse's back, and with that the two entered the remarkably clean studio. 
                          ✧₊∘· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·∘₊✧
Y/N reclined on a surprisingly luxurious loveseat as the light coming from the large window behind them gradually started to dim. Rook was softly humming along to the classical music playing along in the background as he gently guided Y/N into the position they needed to be in. Rook never completely laid his hand on their skin, preferring to ghost them across the places that needed adjustment. He was almost too gentle with them, as if he was attempting to lull them into a false state of comfort before striking.
This sent shivers down Y/N’s spine, they squeezed their eyes shut as if the block out the idea of Rook having ulterior motives for this meeting. Rook smirked down at them, as they shivered beneath his hand, like a little mouse. 
When his work posing Y/N was done he sauntered behind the canvas, picked up a pencil and began to create his vision. 
Quite some time passed before he even began to consider talking to Y/N, lest it break his much needed concentration as he attempted to get their proportions correctly conveyed on the canvas. 
“So tell me about your interests Y/N, what do you enjoy?” Rook suddenly asked, despite the break in the quietness of the situation the relaxed aura of the situation maintained its hold over Y/N. 
“Well, I enjoy listening to music, cooking, movies, mystery novels, and, um, well...it's embarrassing to say but, I have started to really enjoy knitting. It started as a stress reliever about a year ago and now I simply can't stop. I also enjoy art, I've never been all that talented at creating it. But I do love looking at all the amazing ways we can bring beauty to mundane objects like stone or paper. What about you? Do you have any interesting hobbies to share.” They asked giddily, the moment felt almost intimate. Like two middle schoolers sharing secrets at a sleepover. 
“I've always been quite boring, honestly. My main hobby is actually my current job, however I have always had a great love for books. Particularly classic literature, Beowulf, Othello, Faust, every assigned reading in high school and university I ate up like a starving man at a feast. One summer I even read the entirety of Dante’s Divine Comedy from cover to cover. But my favourite book of all time without a doubt has to be The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde.” Rook peered around the canvas to look at his subject as he continued speaking, “Boring right?”
“Not at all Rook, not at all.”
Before the pair realized, nearly two and a half hours of insightful, pleasant conversation had passed by since they first began the session. To the pair it had felt like absolutely no time at all. 
“I'm just about finished with the sketch Y/N, thank you for your patience,” Rook said from behind the easel. He was truly enjoying working with a sentient subject that actually listened to requests. And the natural conversations that happened throughout the hours were quite lovely for the two of them. 
“By the way, would you mind terribly if I painted you topless? You can absolutely say no if you're uncomfortable with it, I just feel as though the emotion we’re going for would be far more powerful if you were seemingly clad in only a blanket.” He asked as he carefully rearranged the scattered pencils on the desk.
“No I don't mind at all Rook, I trust your intuition. I also won't be able to come for a few days, I hope that's okay.” Y/N bit their lip as Rook nodded in reassurance. 
“Text me when you're free and we'll make it work.” He said confidently, slipping his hand into his pocket to give the driver downstairs a warning of their incoming departure. 
“Perfect,” They sighed, relief pouring over them,“It has been absolutely wonderful getting to know you Rook, I’m legitimately excited to see the finalized idea. I'll see you as soon as I'm free!” They got into the car Rook had waiting for them. 
The artist couldn’t help but to smile as Y/N peeked out the window and shyly waved goodbye as the vehicle drove away. 
“Have a good evening my dear sweet Y/N,” Rook cooed at the retreating car a calculating smirk on his face. Pushing off the wall he was leaned against, Rook turned to walk back inside, very pleased with his decision to finally paint a person. Y/N was just as he thought they would be, innocent, gentle, and so very charming. They were positively perfect, exactly what he was searching for but simply hadn't known. Their existence was as though a flower in full bloom was personified. And it was infuriatingly wondrous.
As he shut and locked the door to his studio he felt at peace. It was that moment he decided that he would take his time and insure that this would be the absolute best painting of his career. Nothing else would ever top this. Even the famed Mona Lisa would avert her eyes in respect for for beautiful this would be. 
And Rook was determined to not allow anything to ruin this. 
                         ✧₊∘· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·∘₊✧
The next week the two agreed to meet once again to continue working on the massive project. When the day finally came around the weather had taken a turn for the worse, and the temperatures plummeted. 
Rook stared out the open window at the street below, debating if he should call to cancel when a knock came from the door. Opening the door Rook greeted his muse, inviting them in with a warm tone that carefully contrasted the weather outside. There was no time for them to waste. It was time to get to work. 
Rook gently positioned Y/N how they needed to be before settling back behind the easel. He immediately began to work, small flicks of his wrist creating realistic wrinkling of the fabric around their legs. The fabric flowed across the canvas exactly like how it did in real life, he had perfectly captured the stunning textures of the silk. 
It was a long while until Rook peeked around the easel for more than a second. When he looked up at Y/N again what he saw made him gasp in shock. His brush fell to the floor in a clatter. 
 “Y/N, you look positively blue! Why didn't you tell me you were cold?” Rook exclaimed loudly, rushing over to where his model laid he wrapped them up in the warm blanket from on his bed. After making sure they were comfortable he rushed over to the window , careful to not knock any paints over, and hurriedly shut it. Locking the cold air out. He then proceeded to crank the thermostat up to the highest setting. When he turned back to face them concern over took his mind as he saw them still shivering even though they were bundled up. 
“How long have you been like this?” He asked gently.
Y/N buried their face into the blanket in shame as they responded “An hour”
“An hour! No this will not do!”
“Well you were concentrating really hard and, I didn't want to interrupt you Rook.”
“This is only the second time that you've been in to model for me dear, you need to speak up when you need something.” He murmured as he hugged Y/N close, hoping that his body heat might help alleviate their pains a tiny bit. Y/N huffed softly but was grateful for his concern nonetheless. They stayed like that for a while, sitting in an easy silence as Rook clutched Y/N to his chest. 
After a pause for Y/N to extract their face from the blanket cocoon they now resided in they spoke once more, voice no longer muffled by the fabric, “When would you like to continue Rook?” 
“Continue?” Rook gaped. Shaking his head, Rook muttered under his breath, “Mon dieu. Tu es trés persistant, ma muse.” 
Extracting his arms from around Y/N, Rook stood, mouth pressed into a thin line. “You wish to continue, very well then. We shall continue.”
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“You really didn't have to continue modeling today Y/N,” leaning against the doorframe of his studio Rook sighed, still concerned over the well being of his muse. 
Y/N shrugged coyly, “I know, but I wanted to. See you on Saturday?” They tilted their head in curiosity as they spoke. Rook hummed softly in affirmation, a light smile illuminating his face.  And with that Y/N slipped into the night, eager for Saturday to arrive. 
                         ✧₊∘· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·∘₊✧
The natural light from the window was slowly fading and unbeknownst to them it was casting beautiful shadows on Y/N’s relaxed face. They were perfectly posed and they hadn't moved since they first laid down which was astonishing as they had fallen asleep a few hours ago. Rook was very carefully painting the beams of light that were dancing across his muse's face. As they created beautiful little freckles of light across their cheeks, a halo around their head created by the little hairs reflecting what little they can. And their skin appeared to sculpted from the purest stone. Unmarred by time, soft and inviting. His muse looked even more angelic than usual, the epitome of innocent beauty.
He was completely enraptured.  
The more Rook got to know them, the more he was growing to love his muse’s personality. They were so very sweet, and it appeared that even the sunset could see their beauty. The only word that came to Rook’s mind to describe them was soft. He could tell that life hadn't quite been able to reach out and corrupt them yet. Do they know the way the world has changed? The corruption that seduces from the shadows, drawing you in with sweet words and gentle caresses. It makes you feel wonderful all the while they push you farther into the murky tar that is experience. They haven't yet lost faith in the world around them, not like Rook had. 
Rook smiled down at his muse and gently began to shake them awake. The good light had faded and the canvas needed to dry. Y/N stirred from the sweet oblivion of peaceful rest, slowly blinking the sleep up at him Rook felt a soft pang in his heart. 
Y/N’s sweet innocent heart needed to protected, no matter the cost. 
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The image of Y/N was a little over half finished, but the background of the painting was practically complete. The light pouring onto the desk by the window felt as though it could reach through the canvas and warm the viewer. The lighting really made the whole piece feel loving and intimate. The orange hues from the setting sun made the room look hazy and peaceful, but what really was stunning about the light was how it drew the eye towards the aspects that illuminated the intimacy of the scene. They were concentrated in particular on the writing desk by the window, the discarded clothing resting just off to the side of the couch. And above all else they fell beautifully the peaceful half finished image of Y/N sleeping on the couch. Nothing in the picture felt as though it was filler, everything looked just right, as if all the objects in the room held a meaning.
“I swear I can almost smell of the lotus sitting on the desk. Of course that’s impossible due to there not actually being a lotus in the room, but nonetheless. It's positively stunning!” Y/N exclaimed breathlessly, as they marvelled at how gorgeous Rook could make his work. They were so caught up in examining the almost finished painting that they didn't hear Rook approach until he wrapped an arm around their shoulders. 
Rook hummed pleased at the praise from his model,“It's not as stunning as it will be when we're done. But I’m very glad you like the lotus, it’s my favourite flower and actually… It reminds me of you.”
As soon as they moved to get into the pose Y/N immediately felt a tidal wave of exhaustion wash over them. They swooned nearly falling to the floor, when two arms rushed up to meet them. Rook had caught them right before they hit the ground. Their vision began to blur and it started to scare Y/N. They could barely lift their eyelids let alone say what happened to them. They tried focusing on Rook's voice which was trying to tell them something but alas their brain simply wouldn't allow it.  Rook safely laid them down on the couch with their back exposed to the air, before walking away.
‘I’ve always known Hunt Rook was an extremely attractive man but I never knew he was this handsome, it's almost too much to bare… wait since when were his eyes purple!!” Y/N thought as he knelt next to them in an attempt to explain what he was about to do. It was difficult for Y/N to concentrate let alone move so they settled for making a soft noise to let him know that they were conscious. He grabbed a hold of their hand and squeezed it gently before disappearing from Y/N’s senses for a moment. When he returned Y/N had completely fallen into a sort of trance. He sighed softly as he began to paint a cherry tree on the back of his muse. 
”The process is happening much faster than I expected. I knew I shouldn't have tried to paint so much with you in the room. I guess I took too much from you, my Muse. I hope you can forgive me for my mistake. But don't worry I'll fix you right up,” He murmured. His painting was reflexive, as Rook’s mind wondered elsewhere. Plus the actual image didn't need to be that beautiful, it was the feeling that he needed to focus on, that's what would draw them back. 
“Before meeting you I was incomplete, I didn't truly understand the world. I had lost my passion for life, but you brought it back to me. In all my many years on earth I never would have believed that in the century I most despised I would find the person who was meant for me. Do you know how many times I've dreamed of pulling you close to me and kissing you breathless. I want to do so many wonderful things to you my Muse. The only things you will ever feel with me by your side is love and indescribable pleasure. I fully intend on making you mine. Only mine.” He closed his eyes in bliss at finally saying the words he wanted to say more than anything. He trailed his hands down Y/N’s sides, then their hips and finally resting them on the skin of their thighs. 
Rook slowly leaned down placing a kiss behind Y/N’s ear. “I love you. No I don't just love you, I worship you my Muse. Nothing will ever come between us I'll make sure of it. We are each other's forever.” He purred into their ear. 
With a smirk he finished the painting, leaving a note for Y/N to find when they woke up, he disappeared. There were some arrangements that had to be made before anything went further. 
                          ✧₊∘· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·∘₊✧
It has been nearly 2 weeks since Y/N had last seen Rook. They had both agreed that some time to rest was needed before they would reconvene to finish the painting off. When the day came for them to work together once more Rook eagerly awaited the knock that would signal the end of his search and the start of something absolutely beautiful. 
However his Muse hadn't shown yet, they were a half an hour late and they didn't even text him to let him know they're stuck in traffic or something. It was starting to worry Rook that they’d no show on such an important day but he could be patient.  Plus the extra time it gave him was a perfect chance to think about what he was about to say when the time came for the painting to be finished. 
What felt like hours to Rook but was in reality merely a few unfruitful minutes of staring out the window facing the road passed; when an unfamiliar car parked on the street directly under Rook’s window. 
Removing his face from where it rested on his palm, Rook leaned forward, arms on the windowsill bracing him as he watched the car intrigued. 
A tall blonde man exited on the driver’s side of the vehicle. Circling around the vehicle after shutting his door behind him, the stranger opened the passenger door. 
Rook’s eyes widened as the passenger took their first delicate step out of the car. His breathing quickened in both anger and anticipation as Y/N stepped out of the passenger's side. 
The anger heating his breath spread quickly across Rook’s entire body as the stranger swiftly wrapped his arms around Y/N’s waist, pulling them into a heated kiss. It lasted for a full minute, the stranger eventually even groping Y/N’s buttocks. 
The behaviour that man was displaying was sickening. The exact thing Rook was trying to prevent was happening right below his window. When they pulled apart  his muse was blushing bright red, and was grinning from ear to ear. It made Rook sick, nobody gets to touch what was his. Especially in such a crass and disrespectful way. 
Rook felt his blood boiling as he rushed out of the apartment, calling his muse on the way down. When he reached the bottom of the stairs he ran directly into the pair. 
“Rook, we were just on our way up to see you. This is Vil , my boyfriend! Pumpkin meet my friend Rook.” Y/N chirped, still blushing slightly. 
When Vil pulled Y/N against his side with the arm that was still wrapped around their waist. Rook had to force himself to not wretch and instead smile. Against his better wishes when Vil offered his free hand for a handshake Rook shook the man’s hand, only offering polite greetings in return. 
“It's a pleasure to meet you, Vil. I'm Rook Hunt,” He quipped. Motioning for the couple to follow him up the stairs he formulated his plan of action. Vil was taller than Rook by a few centimetres and exuded grease. It honestly reminded Rook of a rotting pizza, greasy and positively revolting. 
Vil also didn't appear to have an ounce of the chivalry that his Muse deserved in a partner. He wore perfectly pressed, immaculately tailored, designer clothing, and kept fussing with his hair which had been gelled and braided into a slick look. And what really pissed Rook off about this was the fact that despite the clear wealth this Vil person exuded, he had neither the common sense nor care to extend that wealth to his lover. 
As they climbed the stairs up to Rook’s studio, the artist felt the heated anger he started out with chill into a raging blizzard. Revenge after all, is a dish best served cold. And as was taught to him in his youth, Rook found that the punishments resulting are often are best when wielded by the coldest of hearts. 
If he had any doubts about his next course of action before, he was determined to get rid of Vil now. Rook grinned devilishly as he opened the door to his studio. “Welcome to my workroom Vil…” Rook didn't finish the last part of his statement out loud. 
                         ✧₊∘· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·∘₊✧
“My Y/N is so sexy naked. Aren't they Mr. Hunt~” Vil smugly quipped to Rook from his position beside his easel. 
For the final session of painting Y/N was reclined on the chaise, completely nude this time as Rook needed to define the shape of what was hidden by the silk sheet covering their modesty. 
Rook ignored everything Vil did, preferring to admire his Muse as they posed for him one last time. Eventually Rook turned his attention to the man beside him,”Vil, I need your help with something. Mind following me for a second?” 
Vil agreed without a seconds pause, eager to assist in the making of a masterpiece. Rook stood up and guided Vil down into the basement of the building. “Mind grabbing that board for me? It’s the one covered by the tarp” Rook asked as he flicked on the light. Vil nodded and began to search. As he turned his back to Rook, Rook began to look for something himself,  all the while he continued to talk. 
“The building manager lets me use the basement as a storage facility for all my extra works, and any supplies I could ever need. It's quite nice of him actually. And you know what the best part is? Only I have the key.” 
Vil cut Rook off, “I got the board, what should I do with the tarp?” 
Rook smiled, his teeth practically gleaming in the dim light as he responded, “Just leave it on the floor. I’ll clean it up later. Mind putting the board by the door we came in from?” 
Vil shrugged his shoulders as he carried the board across the tarp strewn on the floor. 
“This room means that I can ensure nobody else can access what belongs to me and ruin it.” Rook said to Vil’s back, twirling the finest tool in his collection between his fingers. “You see Vil, that's one of my biggest pet peeves, nosy annoying people who think they have a right to rub their grubby little hands all over the beauty in this world. Most humans are like that actually. ” 
“Is there anything else you require from me?” Vil questioned, bored by the artist’s rambling and the menial task he was given. Deciding he had enough of Rook’s antics after the artist refused to respond, Vil made to leave. He reached for the doorknob but was surprised by a hand clamped over his mouth and a deep pressure across his neck, gone as soon as it came. 
It took Vil a few seconds to realize what had happened through the fog of shock. The first thing that alerted Vil to something being wrong was the sudden pouring of warmth down his chest. The coldness that began to set in shortly after the warmth began to flow was another. But the final sign of what had happened that shook the shock away was the pool of crimson forming on the tarp beneath his feet. In the seconds after the blood loss began to rapidly set in, Vil acknowledged that the pressure was in reality quick deep slice of a knife across his throat. And as Vil’s consciousness faded, he could hear that damned manic artist still babbling on. 
“And you did exactly that Vil, you touched what was mine. You ran your disgusting hands all over them, and I refuse to ever let a pitiful, disgusting little human like you, ever taint my beloved muse,” Rook stared down at Vil as he bled out. A pleased smirk resting on his face, he wiped at the blood on his hands and knife with a cloth. The whole thing had taken less than five minutes. 
Rook very quickly went to work disposing Vil’s corpse. Hammering at the important joints to break them and make the dismemberment process easier sped it up considerably. After an additional half hour, the body was split into six parts, the face was unrecognizable, he had no fingerprints and Rook had painstakingly removed all of Vil’ teeth. It would be a long while before he was identified, if he was even discovered. The clean up was easier than he expected due to the replaceable tarp that Vil had laid on the floor. It was now in a trash bag which was in a dumpster, he washed the wall with bleach and he was done. Later he would do a more comprehensive clean but for now Rook had a more important task to return to. 
                           ✧₊∘· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·∘₊✧
By the time Rook returned he was greeted by his Muse lying silently where he left them an hour and a half ago. His timing was as it always had been, perfect. Rook liked to believe all the years of practice had given him a sort of internal alarm clock for these things.
Rook knew he had just enough time to complete the painting properly. Practically skipping over to where his muse lay immobile, he joyfully placed a crystal cup half filled with white paint under their wrist; before collecting what he needed from their wrist. Rook adored the irony that came from him using the same knife he had used to carve Vil open and end his life to finish up the very thing that would make his Muse immortal. 
The blood from his muse’s wrist poured out slowly, as their heart had nearly slowed to a halt from the oppressive magic permeating the room.
When he had collected enough from them, Rook didn’t bother cleaning off the knife before he opened his own wrist so he could add some of his own blood to the crystalline glass.
 He mixed the three together, pleased with how the crimson and sapphire swirled into the paint. Oh how quickly the pieces were falling into place. 
The next step was Rook’s favourite, it always gave him chills to see his work come to life. Dipping his fingers in the mixture Rook began to draw the necessary runes onto the back of canvas. When he was done he stood back and spoke in a steady voice, one woven with a hidden power, “Par mon sang, Je crée. De ton sang, tu ressuscites.” The second the last word left his mouth the mixture absorbed into canvas leaving no trace of its existence to be found. 
                         ✧₊∘· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·∘₊✧
Y/N’s consciousness had been slowly drifting into a cold black abyss. The last thing Y/N heard before it all went black was Rook purring what Y/N could only assume was supposed to be a comforting phrase into their ear. ”Don't fight it my dear, let it take you. It's just like falling asleep, you have nothing to worry about.”
Y/N wanted to cry, they should have listened to Kalim about Rook being a murderer. But they didn't and look where it got them. 
Suddenly there was a burst of warm light and Y/N could open their eyes again. Shooting upright, their mental breakdown barely restrained by hope.
 They laughed in relief believing it to be just a bad dream until they realized that they didn't fully recognize the room they were in. They were lying on a couch nearly naked, covered only by a single silk blanket and their underwear. Shooting up Y/N frantically looked around the room, searching for anyone, anything that could give them a hint to their location or their clothes. 
Everything within the room seemed so familiar to them and yet no location was coming to mind. 
Luckily they were completely alone and there were clothes scattered across the  ground leading up to the couch. It wasn’t clothing that they owned, looking to be far too old for their time, but for modesty’s sake they would have to make do. Picking up the shirt at their feet and putting it on Y/N walked towards the open window. 
Looking out the window they were shocked at what they found. There was nothing there. The window led to nowhere, there wasn't even a view to look at. Only a soft light. It was as if someone placed a lightbulb behind a frosted glass panel. Which is certainly not how a view from a window should look. 
In a huff Y/N sat down at the desk, almost knocking over the vase that held a single white lotus. “A lotus, what a weird choice of decor.” They mused, considering their options. 
They stood up and moved past where the couch was to see an even more peculiar looking doorway. It was gold only around the edges with a cream coloured centre, and it had no way to open it. There was no knob, no handle, no cut out, absolutely nothing. In a desperate attempt at freeing themself Y/N tried kicking the door down. It didn't budge, the door absorbed the shock entirely and didn't even make a creak. Suddenly a shadow came across the doorway. Backing away in fear Y/N looked for something, anything that could be a weapon. The shadow was tall and broad, and very familiar. 
With the sound of water echoing through a cave, the door rippled with a motion not unlike a pebble creating waves in a calm pond. When the ripples cleared the shadow became more defined. With the ease of moving through two curtains instead of passing through what was just an impassable wall, Rook Hunt stepped quietly into the room. 
He looked and felt more relaxed than ever before, after all he no longer needed to lie. A smile settled on his face when he spotted his muse. Alive and well in the world made just for them. “I'm so pleased to see you, my Muse,” He gently tugged them to his chest, wrapping them in a warm embrace. One that Y/N didn't reciprocate. 
“Rook, what's going on?” His Muse asked, their voice breaking due to the overwhelming emotions they were experiencing. His eyes were the same vibrant purple they first saw a brief moment all those weeks ago. 
“I have a lot to tell you. I haven't exactly been the most honest man with you,” He hummed, looking at them amused. 
“What do you mean?” They retorted.
“Well to start I lied about my age, I'm not twenty one. I'm six hundred twenty one,” Rook admitted with a shrug. 
His beloved’s jaw dropped at how ridiculous he sounded,”If that were true you'd have to have been born in the fourteenth century. That's during the renaissance Rook.” 
He nodded,”You're right. I was born in 1498. I was originally a young noble in renaissance France. I’ve gone by many names over the years Muse. Perhaps most familiar to you would be the name I used during the renaissance when I became a well known artist for the first time. Chace Beau; but I dare say Rook Hunt is a far nicer name than, non?” Rook, Chace, whatever he may be called, winked slyly, placing his hand on their waist, before he continued his monologue, “I was one of 12 siblings, and the only one who was immortal. In the age I was born in, it was theorized by some that I had a demon as a father. Which would explain my eyes and why I will never age.” He paused in deep thought before continuing. “Another strange talent that my supposed demon father gave me was the ability to immortalize the beauty in the living world by putting their souls into the art I create. I used this talent even back then to become even more famous than I would have been without, just like now. However I still refused to paint people, I just have never seen any good in keeping such filth around for centuries,” Rook caressed his Muse’s cheek as he continued speaking. 
“Then I met you, and you were everything I could have ever dreamed of. You were the one human who I would make eternal. Originally I was planning on showing you off to the world but then I realized that I would much rather keep you all to myself. If you were to be exposed to the world then what made me love you so, your pure soul, would still be tainted even through the painting. People love to touch what doesn't belong to them. And as that pig Vil found out I really don't like people touching what's mine.” He once again pulled his muse to his chest, his arms wrapping loosely around their waist as he nuzzled his nose into their hair.
Ripping themself away from Rook's embrace. “What. Did. You. Do,” His muse spat. 
Rook backed his beloved up against the wall, careful not to hurt them as he did so. He placed one hand beside their head while the other gripped one of their hips forcing the two even closer. He tilted his head and slowly leaned down so that his mouth was right beside his muse’s ear. 
His words were like belladonna, seemingly sweet but in the end very poisonous, “I slit the fucker’s throat, that's what.”
Y/N squirmed in a futile attempt to free themself, positively disgusted by his actions. Rook only tightened his grip in response.
 ”You killed him? Why!” They yelled. 
“He was going to sully you dear, and I refused to see anyone take away the thing I love the most about you. Those people out there, most of all him, didn't deserve you. And they still don't. So I’m going to keep you here. Safe from the world that wishes to take you away from my arms.” Rook commanded, his voice still sickeningly sweet.
His muse shook their head in absolute disbelief, their eyes shining with unshed tears of despair. Rook loosened his grip on their hip, his hand moving to gently cup their cheek. Sensing that his muse was distraught he placed a gentle kiss on their brow as a reassurance of his genuine affection for them. In response his muse grimaced. He frowned deeply, disappointed in the behaviour of the one he loved most, he tore himself away from them in frustration. He didn't expect a warm reunion, in fact their conversation had been going much better than he had expected. But the rejection still stung, deciding that what his muse needed was to be alone for now, Rook turned to leave. 
“Why are you doing this to me?” They asked, their voice cracking from the pain and devastation they were overwhelmed with.
“You may not see it now but I'm only doing this because I love you.” Rook responded earnestly. 
“I'll never love you!” Y/N called out after him. 
That struck a nerve within Rook. His expression started soft in plain adoration but it quickly froze over, instead becoming hard with anger. Rook's temper never ran hot, preferring instead to chill those who displeased him with his control. He paused, turning back to face his muse. 
“You say that now Y/N. But who knows what you'll say after fifty, twenty, or even as little as five years of complete isolation. So let’s start the clock from now. You will find I am an extremely patient man, my Muse. And I'm more than willing to wait until you gladly come into my arms. After all, I have all of eternity to make you love me.”
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Hello Dears, i hope you enjoyed this labour of love. I simply adore this giant oneshot, and think that its honestly one of if not my favourite thing i’ve created. Yandere content isn’t something that i do often as its not requested, (probably due to the very dark post i wrote the one time it was requested). Rook is honestly very fascinating to me so writing him was fun!
If you liked this post and want to see more from me check out the previous wishes or make a wish yourself
Sincerely, Jupiter
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carnivorousyandeere · 6 months
Note
Dorian with a Darling who does body painting and is determined😏 to make him their newest masterpiece..... although it might be a project best left for Darling's eyes only 🤭
Dorian’s fingers still over his phone at the work of art displayed on its screen. The painting is gorgeous, yes. He assumes the model must be rather attractive as well, but it’s obvious with your level of talent you could make anyone look ethereal. He’s not the least bit interested in the model, the canvas. He has to know more about the person behind the paintbrushes and air brushes, behind the camera. He has to know more about you.
( MDNI, No Age in Bio DNI )
CW: murder, smut, jealousy, praise kink, unprofessional work environment, technically Dorian is Darling’s employer;;; post-sex photography
Info: gn reader, no agab mentioned; switch/dom reader; switch/sub yandere
Dorian invited you to stay in his home to pursue your art more freely, but his bitterness at you bringing home “random tramps” to paint wears away at his nerves. He certainly doesn’t feel himself to be a prime candidate for artistic inspiration or photographs, but he can’t stand you spending so much time with other people. The curse of your line of work is that need for a living canvas; a need he cannot deny you, or else your art will enchant no longer.
He kills your models when you’re through with them. If you ever question why none return your calls to work with you again, you don’t mention it to him. You don’t talk much to him at all. It’s both comforting and frustrating. He wants to hear your thoughts, but he never knows what to say in response.
Imagine his surprise upon learning you want him to be your canvas— that you were even feeling a bit shy about asking him to sit for you.
“You’ve already done so much, I don’t want to trouble you more…”
“Nonsense! If anything—” Dorian seems to realize his tone is too passionate, too loud, and coughs self-consciously into his sleeve before continuing more quietly— “if anything, it would be an honor.”
~~~
Dorian is mostly bare, his last vestige of modesty a blanket covering his privates. He tries so hard not to squirm under your gaze as you evaluate the planes and curves of his body. He has to fight for that stillness even harder at the cold touch of paint on his skin, knowing that it’s you who’s adorning him like this, making him into art. Your art.
If you notice him trembling and breathing a little shallowly as cover his face, then arms, then chest in a base layer to protect his skin followed by swathes of deep blue paint, mercifully you don’t say so.
Dorian is beginning to relax, patting himself on the back for being so normal when he feels a swipe of primer across his hip and jolts away with a gasp, eyes shooting open.
You jolt back too, drawing your hands back to yourself, apologizing profusely.
Dorian swallows down the lump in his throat, willing his heart to stop sending so much damn blood down south. His ears are ringing. He clears his throat again, avoiding your eye. “I should be the one apologizing… you are only doing what we agreed to…”
He coughs again, hiding himself from you as best he can. “I-I’m afraid it’s just been… rather a long time since somebody has touched me… there…”
Oh. Here you were, so afraid to paint your handsome benefactor, and he was even more nervous than you!
Dorian cringes away at your laugh, beautiful though it is. He relaxes when you take his hand in yours, kissing the back of his knuckles.
“It’s okay to feel that way. It happens surprisingly often.”
Dorian frowns at the thought of other people in his spot. Did you hold their hands too? Kiss their skin, smudge the paint drying there? Dorian turns his head to kiss your hand in turn, watching the gentle laughter dry in your throat at his heated look. “And what do you usually do when that happens?”
“I…” you swallow harshly, looking away. “I usually leave the room so the model can compose themself…”
Dorian hums, kissing up your wrist and nipping at the skin when you answer. “And what if I don’t want you to leave? What if… I want you to stay?”
Your head spins with sudden heat as Dorian pulls you into a kiss, smearing blue paint all over your lips and nose. You’re out of breath long before he lets you go, sucking down air greedily and giggling a little at the absurdity of it all. Dorian pulls you even closer, guiding your hand to his cock.
You gently pull him out from under the blanket. He’s dripping already. You smear pre-cum with your thumb, licking your lips as Dorian shudders and tilts forward to rest his forehead against yours. His eyelids flutter with every stroke, soft whispers of your name leaving his lips like a prayer.
He’s beautiful like this, and you tell him so. Dorian whines. His gasps of your name only grow louder, his cock twitching harder as you continue to praise him— no matter how much he shakes his head in denial of your sweet words.
He cums hard, white splattering across his painted stomach. You coax him to lay back in a more comfortable position, petting his hair and reassuring him he did a good job for you, before taking out your camera and snapping some pictures to start a… private collection.
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recreationalfanfics · 10 months
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Omg I love it! Here's another half baked thought, In your opinion, for yandere AC characters, which do you think are more likely to play mind games/do mental manipulation vs those who forgo it entirely?
OKAY, SO I HAVE BEEN THINKING ABOUT THIS A LOT AS WELL SO HERE ARE MY THOUGHTS ON IT.
Yandere Altaïr would be one of them but I think it would be a mix of isolating you so that you depend on him as well as intimidating you. You are the target of his affections and he unknowingly treats you like one of his missions. His objective is to get you to rely on him one way or another. Yes, he will try to romance you but if he sees that its not reciprocated or your being a bit difficult, he will give a gentle reminder about who he is and what he does and how he's doing this for your best interest.
Yandere Ezio and Yandere Jacob would just try and gaslight you into thinking you're dating them. Like Ezio calling you pet names and kissing your cheek and having his hands on you and if you try to push him away, he laughs it off but still will try to touch you just somewhere where you're not so uncomfortable. Yandere Jacob will just try to get rumors going where people think you're dating and hopefully you'll realize your actually his soulmate!♡
Yandere Arno Dorian would 100% do this with his darling. He knows his natural charm will work on them but its not drawing them in he's concerned about, it's keeping them. He already lost Elise so when he finally accepts his feelings for you, he has to ensure that you won't leave him and that you'll NEVER want to leave him.
Yandere Ratonhnhaké:ton would never. He knows the odds aren't in his favor but there's something so unsettling to him about tricking you into loving him. He knows his love for you isn't pure and rather twisted but he does genuinely want you to love and rely on him. So yes, even you are scared of him and you're intimidated by him, he wants to show you that you shouldn't be afraid because he loves you!
Yandere Edward just would want to get to the point. Yes he does have some tact when it comes to approaching you but he'd really rather not play mindgames. If you resist, that's fine, he can deal with that but he doesn't care because, like Arno, he lost someone already and he refuses to let it happen again. He will isolate you with him on the Jackdaw if he has too, so it wouldn't really matter if tried to mentally manipulate you or not, you're stuck with him either way.
Yandere Evie would not be opposed to a little manipulation but it wouldn't be super intense either, she is absolutely smitten with you and she'll do her best to hide her yandere motives a lot better than Jacob. She will observe you from far away and change little aspects of her style and mannerisms to fit the image of your ideal partner to open up to her abit more and let your gaurd down.
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a-reverii · 5 months
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▸ BLURBS
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━ GRISHAVERSE ⌵
kaz brekker
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aleksander morozova
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━ THE WIZARDING WORLD ⌵
sirius black
› sharing a cigarette with sirius.
› sirius helps you put on your eyeliner. ⋮ ( requested )
› sirius finds you smoking a cigarette. ⋮ ( requested )
regulus black
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remus lupin
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cedric diggory
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━ MISCELLANEOUS ⌵
dorian gray
this shelf is empty
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━━ ( navigation ) ( masterlist ) ( request )
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yandere-writer-momo · 11 months
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yandere dorian hcs please ���
I will give you your steroid Santa Clause! But I’m making it sad. After the fight with Retsu, I felt so bad for him. I wanted to hug him.
Spoilers!!
Yandere Baki Head Canons
Kaioh Dorian edition
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Kaioh Dorian
You worked at a pastel maid cafe and he was a foreign customer that tipped you more than any other customer. Though at times you felt his eyes linger on your form longer than what was comfortable but his big tips made up for it
As the days turned to weeks, you learned his name was Dorian. He was overly nice to you and sometimes he’d bring you candies. To you, it seemed like he was trying to heal his inner child so you never corrected his behavior. The giant man somewhat reminded you of one
He’d call you “dolly” all the time due to your pastel maid uniform and you let him. It was a cute innocent nickname. Sometimes Dorian would gift you little porcelain dolls that looked eerily similar to you, but you thought they were cute. A part of you wondered how he knew you collected dolls, but perhaps it’s the way you presented yourself?
One time he stayed near closing time so you sat with him and chatted a bit. He was an American and he was 65. He’s never been married and he used to practice Chinese Kenpo. He was interesting
That was until you saw the news and realized he was an escaped convict. He killed a lot of people… you began to limit your time around Dorian and he noticed. He didn’t like it one bit
As you sleep at night, you feel the bed shift. You try to scream but a large hand is covering you mouth. You realize Dorian had broken into your house. How did he know where you lived?
Dorian tells you he’s been keeping an eye on you for awhile now and he doesn’t want you to hate him. That you’re his dolly and he’ll always treat you well.
He doesn’t do anything sexual to you at all, he just lays beside you and falls asleep with you in his arms. You don’t sleep a wink because you’re terrified but Dorian doesn’t harm you. He cares for you in his own way
You don’t see him for awhile after that, and you kind of feel sad about it. That’s when you find out through your coworkers that Dorian was now mentally handicapped after a fight with Kaioh Retsu
You go to see him and you’re surprised he recognizes you. Dorian runs over to you and calls you dolly still. He’s so thrilled to see you but now his mind is reduced to that of a child’s. It breaks your heart and you hug him. You cry as he hugs you back
Dorian tells you how his dad never let him have much candy and how abusive his father was with while he’s in this new mindset. You take it upon yourself to befriend him again
You visit Dorian everyday and bring him lots of candy. You sit with him in the psyche ward. Sometimes you go on walks with each other
You bring him a doll and he’s so happy. You two play together a lot, the way kids would. Dorian always looks forward to your visits
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