#yandere conductor

[nasubeenwithcat]

Tell me who you belong to, darling.

[xxdr3amsnatchrrxx]

Eat You

CW for blood, its a piece about a yandere vampire so it is to be expected kinda /lh

this piece took me three days to make, mostly because i kept wanting to be a gamer and not draw.

also been wanting to make more unsettling artwork since i've been kinda lacking in that.

still experimenting with shading. not entirely sure i wanna keep doing soft shading. but im proud of where my line art is going.

originally had a speedpaint/timelasp for the drawing but its too big to post to youtube :(

my commissions are open, dm if interested.

reblogs > likes

[wanderingspirt47]

Every second that you see is-

24 connected pieces-

Thank you for coming

Thank you for staying

Thank you for watching the show!

[yandere-wishes]

𝕐𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕄𝕠𝕟𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 ℍ𝕚𝕘𝕙

❤️‍🩹Characters: Yandere! MH Ghouls x GN! Reader

❤️‍🩹Summary: There's something ancient within you. Lost and forgotten. You're an eldritch creature living amongst monsters. A piece of you lives within each of them. And a piece of each of them lives inside you...

❤️‍🩹Warnings: Yandere behavior, obsessive tendencies, Body horror in Frankie's part, slight gore and blood in the rest, angst, super cryptic.

❤️‍🩹Could be read as romantic or platonic.

I am a monster, for now and forever. I am a monster, what a terrible being.〜♡॰ॱ

There's something ancient within you. Lost and forgotten. ~❣✧❣

⚡︎Frankie Stein ⚡︎

There's something ancient within you. Lost and forgotten. Frankie is desperate to unravel it. To crack it open. She feels you in every one of her limbs. Feels you in the stems of her patchwork heart. That has to account for something right? 

Your melancholy seeps through you, tainting the tiles in shades of gold. 

Frankie blames the binding of your skin, she's always found it too loose. 

Nothing extramundane, to tether your essence within yourself. She wouldn't mind taking you apart and stitching you back together. Recreating you into something perfect. She's grown wry of watching you crack your ribcage open, shoving astral celestials where your heart should be. You mutter things, things she doesn't understand, things she's scared she'll never understand. Her bones rattle, a rouge spark runs down her spine. Every piece of you haunts her...

Frankie use to believe, verily childishly, that parts of her were salvaged from you. She knows now that that's impossible, yet she still wishes every night for the childish dream to come true.

In many ways, Frankie has always been bound to you. Your first friend, your first confidant, your first punishment, your first comprehension. Even when you'd been too young to understand the cacophony of the world, you'd still know the two of you were connected. 

It had only taken a lifetime to understand why. 

Bones collapse into constellations. Somehow she feels you slipping away. Her slender fingers trace the stitches across the hollow of your chest. A meteoric reminder of her work. "It's okay I'll have you fixed in no time." Frankie doubts you find any truth in her incentive. You've always been drawn to pessimism. Still, she feeds the needle through skin and muscle. Praying she remembers the stronghold pattern her mother taught her. 

The shade they used for your blood is too bright. You bleed in rivers, 

flowing with no end insight. You wash away her sorrows with farfetched promises. Awakening a longing, she never knew she had. 

Frankie wishes she could pluck out your spine. Kiss each vertebra like an iridescent pear. Maybe then your souls would tether, maybe then everything will go back to the way it once was. The needle snags across bones, marring your skin in star-kissed bruises. She pecks each one, muttering a sorry across cold flesh. You feel like home under her lips. A home she never got to know. 

Yet the echoes of its brilliance linger faintly in the hearts of those who once knew its warmth.

Frankie smiles as your eyes crack open. Dizzy and distant, you've yet to notice your enhancements. The pieces of herself she tethered onto you. She wonders when you'll notice the new eye, the new leg, the mismatched fingers. Her heart sparks thumbing loudly in her ribcage. 

She sinks down, by the operation table,skinning her knees. You feel like home, now more than ever. 

Your fingers find her head, patting the matted hair, she smiles something solemn and forlorn. She trails her fingers over one of the stitches on your arm, prying her slender digits between the threads and into the gaping tissue. Her fingers release a spark, your body arches off the table. After all, blood has always been a good conductor for electricity. "It's just a power boost. You'll be right up in a few minutes." a giggle rips from her throat, as you mummble an acknowledgment. Eyes overcast with equal parts grief and glee. 

She always knew she loved you how could she not? You'd been linked to her for as long as she had a conscience. You had always been her everything. Sometimes she wonders how you both ended up like this. Stitching pieces of yourselves into each other. 

Frankie closes her eyes. Her mind struggling to regain control. Her deep breaths waver as she hears shifting from the table. 

"It's alive..."

𓆩❤︎𓆪Draculaura𓆩❤︎𓆪

Draculaura can smell the ethereal ichor now. Maybe it's always been there. Hidden under bygone layers and golden sand. She wonders if now, knowing what you know, makes you see her as anything less. You're older now, smarter. Maybe you understand the world just a little bit better than she ever could. 

Despite her gifted immortality, Draculaura likes to think that she's grown, too. No longer the little batling who faints at the mere scent of blood. Yet the urge to vomit is still there, an acidic reflex in the back of her throat. She's been avoiding you lately, simply because you make the urges go away. 

She can't live with that.

Can't live with what you make her. 

You trace the heart on her cheek. Your fingers feel like divinity sinking into her skin. You try to reason with her, tell her the truths of the crypt. "Surly Draculaura, you must know who you really are. Isn't it silly that you persist in this nativity?" Your words are harsh. Good intentions wrapped in silver blades. She bites her tongue, killing the queries before they dare spill. 

You make her crave things. 

Things she's avoided her whole life.

There's blood on your lips, dripping onto the ground. She fights the urge to kiss you. The heat of the sun amplifies the scent of the decaying flesh. Her stomach growls, this isn't right. The grip on her parasol tigtens. There is justice behind your actions, not one she can make herself understand. She watches as you tear into the decomposing body. "Don't", it's nothing less of a prayer. She feels her fangs elongate. How she wishes the world would turn to black.

Can a vampire be haunted? 

Surly they can, it's the only answer to your staunch lingering. 

Draculaura's coffin feels too snug, like a home and a prison encapsulated in one. She wishes she could feel cold dirt under her nails, feel the thrill of digging her way out of a grave. It's your fault, it has to be. Why must you awaken such ancient sensations? Such horrid cravings, such primal needs. 

Why must she see divinity in your face, liquid darkness shimmering behind enigmatic eyes? You are something terrifying, something painful. You are what she was supposed to be, what she's fled from her whole life.  

Your silhouette is a curse and a blessing. A reminder of a lineage she was thrusted into. A legacy she never wanted. Everything about you is a hunting familiarity for a family she never knew. She wonders if she would have been the prettiest girl in the morgue. She wonders if her father should have let her die all those eons ago.

 "I used to be human" She confesses one night. She doesn't know why you agreed to come over. Why seeing you in your pajamas sparks one too many fond memories.

"So?" your tone is one of perplexity. She feels foolish under your gaze. You glide the makeup brush across her cheeks. dusting them with faded nostalgia. "I can't eat them. It'll feel like I'm eating myself" How long has it been since the transformation occurred? how long has it been since she shedded the body of that sickly fragile girl? She's been a vampire for centuries yet still can't get used to the title. 

"You can eat these ones..." Something ancient within her stirs, her bones rattle with comprehension. She knows what you mean and it fills her with a need to scream. 

Draculaura can't see her reflection, can't gauge how different she is now. You used to help her with her makeup back in high school. Back when the shade of your lipstick determined your personality for the day. She's never seen her face. She prays it's identical to yours. She prays that someday she can embody you...

There's a deathly hunger within her. Bubbling in her stomach. She needs to let it out before it kills her. Can she even die? She's almost sure she wants to. You almost make her want to succumb to the impulse of quitting her humanity all toghter. Your presence makes her all so hungry. She's gotten better at hiding it under school-ghoul gossip and trend talk. 

She settles for a kiss tonight, a rushed peck on the cheek. Some vampire she is, instead of bleeding you dry she's pouring her sorrows into you. She wonders if you take note. See the ghosts jouncing within her soul. 

Draculaura's nails pick at the skin of her birthmark.

The skin cracks.

blood trickles. 

Can a vampire even be haunted?

Yes. 

She knew the charade wouldn't last forever. 

Knew that one day the lights would dim and the stage would fade to black

A final curtain call. An impending doom.

The final nail in her glass coffin. Rendering it to shards.

And she'll be left plucking fragments from her eternal flesh.

There's a small joy in knowing you'll be her effacer. 

The one to put an end to 2,000 years of pretend. 

"And then he was all like "You know?" and I was like "Whatever" and he was-" 

"Draculaura, I have no idea what you are talking about." She turns to face you, your smile is a crushing weight. On her shoulders crave. You throw your head back and laugh. Laughing at how little she's changed since you shared a desk in class. Since your most eminent concern was fearleading practice and algebra tests. Draculaura should laugh too, this she knows. Yet she remains distracted by your neck and all the glory it holds. 

Just a small bite won't hurt...

☾🐾☽Clawdeen Wolf☾🐾☽

Clawdeen is protective to a fault. A trait she could never identify as innate or habit. Still, the urge to stalk you persists. Pricking away at her fur like wolfsbane. 

Clawdeen's been brought up to believe in legacy, to worship the moon and the stars and their maker. Ancient things have a way of lasting lifetimes. She knows this now, finds its evidence when she unravels her family, her pack, herself...you. Her kind has been known to nurture those they love, to birth and raise every great warrior. She ponders again if this was originally encrypted in their blood or if her species picked it up throughout the years. 

All she knows is that something inside her awakens when she sees you. A testament to an ancient love, long since stifled under sand and snow. 

She wonders if that's what she's done with you all these years. If, in her own way, she's raised you to become some sort of warrior, a great beast living amongst subsidiary. 

The two of you sit beside the bay window. Her newest sketchbook draped across her lap. You lean in resting your head on her shoulder, listening as she explains the inspiration behind each design. 

You feel like you've been mauled. A piece of you thrown in every direction. Only to morph into the creations of your hunter. "You remember your first design?" you ask, closing your eyes to still the world. "Wasn't that when we wrapped Howleen in a red blanket and my mom's scarf?" Her claws prick her upper lip as she stifles a giggle. "And made her walk around the house like it was a Scaris runway" You add, relishing in the bygone recollection. 

Your childhood memories together are coated in ichor. Jejune days 

when you'd watch her tumble over herself trying to be everything she could never be. Even back then, you'd known something was amiss with the world. Seen the ancient wolf that lay dormant within her. felt its bonds call out to you, pulling you in deeper. You'd cling to her like a frightened child to a teddy bear. 

But you're older now. Instead of the scared child, you've turned into the monster under the bed. Funny how everyone's heritage catches up with them at some point. Even when you grow unaware of its presence. Legacy still tends to echo in your bones. You're both the same in that regard.

"I can never tell if I'm alive or dead." You tell her one night. 

"Neither" Clawdeen's voice is rigid, stiff. She can feel your awakening and rebirth. It sings in her head, more vital than a howl. "creatures like us don't die so easily. We only transform." She remembers the legends, the wars, they rattle in her bones sending shivers up her spine. Neither of you have ever died. You've survived every tribulation. 

"What doesn't kill you makes you stronger" you reply, Clawdeen notes the embers that burn behind your eyes. How they spread across your body like a wildfire.

"What doesn't kill me, simply gives me a reason to kill it" She swears she sees the moon flicker in retort. 

Clawdeen slits her throat with her claws. 

Choking on moondust and half-fallen stars. 

Her father once told her heritage is everything before giving her a golden ring fashioned as a wolf's head. She still doesn't know what he means. 

She knows her kind was born from misplaced love. 

She's just glad your fates are entwined. 

"Someday you'll have red eyes." You trace your thumb over her lashes as you speak. Trailing down to play with her curls. She knows what you mean. Oh how, she wants to devour the hope you offer so freely. Rip it from your heart and feel it pulsing under her fangs. Maybe then her stars will align and she'll truly understand what she is. 

 Clawdeen's feelings grow teeth, gnawing at her carnivorously as she pulls you close. Muttering a 'thanks' as if it holds the weight of the world. There's comfort in the thought that she's molded you. Helped nourish your flames until they grew so potent. She's ever only been the middle child of the moon. But with you, she feels like so much more. Like something celestial, something ancient. An heirloom made of blood and moonrock. 

Above you the clouds part. Giving way to the full moon. 

₊˚.༄Lagoona Blue₊˚.༄

The air in her lungs feels synthetic, dry. She chokes off the sand and ozone, blinded by the unfiltered light, leaving burns on her frail, scaled, skin. She wonders if this is how a fish feels as it's being reeled on land. She wonders if she's any different now.

Her heart hammers when she sees you, cracking her ribs in hysteria.

Water lilies bloom from their marrow, she counts them just to distract from the stars burning in your eyes. Her teeth catch her bottom lip, gnawing the pink flesh like a shark does its prey.

Her eyes burn when she catches a glimpse of you by the pond. Gazing conflicted at three-eyed frogs. She can't help but see you as a cacophony of unmarked graves. Too many ghosts linger across your body, they're prints evident in the afternoon sun.

You leave a water lily behind her ear as you brush past her in the hallway. She thinks your perfection is exaggerated, artificial like the air. The kind daydreaming divers pray to find in rogue oysters. Lagoona is sure you're the last of your kind. An endangered creature too proud to ask for help. She clumsily fingers the flower's petals. The wave of nostalgia that invades, has her gasping for air.

The ocean she once called home is overrun by rot. She too is infected by the pollution that plugs her gills. In her dreams, she treads through clean oceans, webbed fingers entwined with yours. There is no corrosion here, no death. Just you and her and everything that entails the definition of good. When she wakes up she notices that her gills are falling one by one. Pastel blue glints scattered, floating across her bed like the empty husks of sea stars.

She too is the last of her kind.

She too is destined to perish in agony.

She wonders if you hear her tears. Hear them fall into the abyssal sea. Feel their reverberations as they create rings on the surface. She can't expect such a thing from you. You're in your own world struggling with your own scars. You left her another flower today, nymphoides indica, she doesn't understand what you're trying to tell her.

The pond has started to bleed too. Its decaying scent is pungent from miles away.

has it bled into her?

Is she infected too?

You're there again today, worlds apart yet close enough to touch. Her body stiffens as she kneels next to you. Desperate for your attention, desperate for you to tell her what she is. Maybe, just maybe she can confess her love in time to share a grave with you.

"I used to be so beautiful.." Your voice sounds evasive. A final cry for help before the ocean consumes you. Your reflection in the pond is muddled over. A glitch in reality, something Frankie would have more experience with. "you still are mate…you still are" Her words are earnest, yet she doubts they bring you solace. "If it's any consolation, I'm polluted too..". You laugh so condescending it makes her stomach churn. She rolls the words in her mouth again, tasting them for misunderstandings.

"We're all polluted Lagoona. We always have been."

You're made of one too many pieces, all doused in poison. You rearrange the water lilies on her head. Your fingers feel like home threading through her hair. "The last of our kind." Lagoona giggles, her body is growing dryer, desperate, the moisturizer and hydration station have long since stopped working. Now she awaits the poison to take over fully. You're her memento mori another helpless creature awaiting death.

And yet, to her, you're still as radiant as the first day she met you.

Lagoona's grave will be in the sea. It's a last wish one you decide to honor. You kiss her on the cheek as she turns to you. Body half submerged in her home. She hugs you, with all the longing her frail corpse can muster. It's only too late when you notice that you too are being submerged. Dragged into the eternal depths. Lagoona refuses to part with you. This is her final gift, the last present she will give you. A quick and painless death. One with a comforting presence.

Her father used to tell her strange tales of bizarre men who'd come to their ancestrial home, seeking answers far too advanced for them. She wonders if she's had the answers all along. Maybe she just had to look a little deeper.

It doesn't matter now. For her final breaths, she is at peace. She is content to end like this. With you in her arms.

𓂀𓆣☥Cleo De Nile☥𓆣𓂀

Cleo likes to think she's come a long way from her former self. No longer an autocrat cheerleader with stary eyes and a need to be worshipped.

She likes to think she's filled out the role of queen, of sovereign, of absolute. 

She's done her dynasty proud...

Shattered and transformed herself into the perfect vessel. 

It's not until she catches her rogue reflection in the gleam of your eyes, that she realizes she's still the same. Eons have passed yet Cleo still remains the same frail cowardly daughter bearing the burden of the D'Nile name. 

You look every bit a queen, a sovereign, an absolute. You've grown to fill the role you never knew you had. 

Cleo bleeds gold. She always has. 

Little did she know, you did too. 

You always had.

There's a crushing weight, something that makes her long for entombment. "I wish I were a mere child once more." her tone is sand on sand. So faint you think it nothing more than a mirage of sound. Her head lays on your lap bleeding out her sins as she prays for the sun to melt her. Feeble, unstable thing she is. Hailing from a feeble unstable place.

Maybe it would do you both some good to forgo the past. To embrace a thundering, grotesque future. Maybe it's time to retire the thrones and gold bangles. Maybe it's time to depart. 

she laughs at such a preposterous notion. 

Cleo's Icoffine lays in a pool of shards and wires and golden beads. Her bandaged fingers wrapped tightly around your bicep, tugging you closer until the scent of spices and flora became overbearing. "it's...okay" you lie through the rage bubbling in your throat. Through the tears that sting the corners of your eyes. "It's not-it's...it's never been okay", the words feel like boulders crushing her bones. turning her body and bandages back to dust. 

You've known Cleo to always wear a broken crown. Funny how, after a millennia, the cracks still keep growing. Only now they bleed into her corpse, cut through bandages, and aim for the heart. You want to wipe her tears away. To whisper glory and purpose into her bejeweled ears.

Cleo lies on the golden floor. It's cold, frigid, she doesn't remember gold to be so unwelcoming, so petrifying. You pull her hand to your heart, hovering above her. Watching as she melts and hardens in the same breath. 

"Allow me the pleasure of death once more. Allow me the luxury of being the only monster you ever have to know." Cleo doesn't remember missing her sarcophagi so much. Her lungs fill with broken promises as her eyes sting from mulish obsoletes. "I've been so blind for so long." She confesses, free hand fiddling with the jewels on her blouse. Running them along her nails waiting to see which will scratch first. "As have I, there's no need to-" her voice is harsh as she sits up. The undead rising from its bejeweled grave. Her hands cup your face. She tries to be gentle, to cradle you like a flower petal. "I'm-I-" her breath hitches as her fractured mind screams. "I hate myself all so very much. Yet I love you with every bit of the heart I thought I lost all those millennia ago."

Chaos has a way of squirming through her veins. 

Her dreams are tainted in rubies, seeing you lying in the sand. 

The noise above is defining. She hates that she's not used to it by now. 

It can't be fair. 

The world can't take you from her. 

You're the only lifeline she has left. 

The only hope that remains. 

You tell Cleo you want to die one starless night, she understands the sentiment. You don't know why that makes you cry. Her lips leave phantom kisses across your eyelids. Spilling gold pleated secretes into your skin. Cleo wishes she kept you entombed next to her, rotting away far from every disaster. Yet she knows she can't, not now at least. You've morphed her into her purpose better than her omnipotent father and cruel sister ever could. With you by her side, she's truly become a queen, a sovereign, an absolute. While you rein above her, some all-knowing creature who she can't help but worship. 

Maybe someday, decades from now. 

The love you share will be dethroned

How unlikely such a feat seems.

Taglist: @hadesnewpersephone @feedmestraycats @deathangelraven @itotallysleepenough @yuuka29 @umgatochamadopercyval

[throwaway-yandere]

𝗖𝗹𝗮𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗰𝗮𝗹 𝗖𝗼𝗻𝗱𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴 [Yandere!Dottore/Reader]

a/n: this fic is 100% dedicated to @leftdestiny-posts and they would know just how much they had inspired me in this fic once they finished reading it HAHAHAHAH. P.S.: the classical songs mentioned are actual songs. Yes, the title is half a joke. Here's the spotify playlist if you're curious.

Unreliable Synopsis: You cannot remember your past, but your doctor has been with you every step of the way— and he's more than willing to spend some time with you outside the hospital. Still... did you always have pure white hair?

CW: yandere themes, light body horror, manipulation, its dottore, c'mon LOL.

Concert II "Tristezza Di Fine Anno", performed by the Morespoke Philharmonic with their conductor, Lady Columbina, began nearly an hour ago. And you had the fortune of hearing their songs for yourself.

The well-dressed crowd filled the seats, behaving in what was appropriate for their high station. It was fully booked. The music overwhelmingly masked anyone's breaths, if they had one to start with. Her program can be felt deep in the audience's bones. Rattling them in each sforzando before it lulls down through the sound of her handpicked musicians— with Lady Columbina as the lonesome soloist when the moment calls for it.

"This piece, Symphony No. 5 in C-Sharp Minor, is not Columbina's own making, she had failed to mention that," your company hummed. "This was by another composer who hid behind the name Safed. They were a self-fulling prophecy. Do you wish to know what they said about this piece?"

You said nothing as Zandik— Lord Dottore— stroked your unnaturally "white" hair.

"They said that nobody understood the piece and that they wish they could conduct the first performance five centuries after their death."

Zandik smiled.

"What say you? Do you think those words are true?"

Your company was a tall and thin man with artificially pale-ish skin and wavy blue hair. His eyes were reportedly bloodshot crimson, although you had not received proof of that in this lifetime. But, you were drawn to his deep ocean-like colors, and that was enough to keep you mildly complacent to his strange remarks.

Zandik is surprisingly a considerate man, but he must've brought you with him for a reason. He told you himself that the reason he brought you out of your prison-like hospital room was a mere experiment on his behalf. Paradigm-shifting consequences of his strange social experiments with you are likely to occur, and he cares not for its ethical debates. He won't ask for rhetorics; these to him are tangible outcomes and no questions will be entertained.

All except his.

"I think… "

The composition had a serene, slightly asymmetrical feel to it. You were certain this was Lady Columbina's creative liberties at play. Something about it did not capture its true authenticities. The show purported to narrate three stories: the first concerned a judge who had to find a loved one guilty; the second concerned a prince who drove their beloved into despair; and the final was a tale of a knight who disregarded his obligation to defend a loved one.

But it felt incomplete. As if there was a missing piece— a secret fourth act hiding between the notes and stage.

"A person can't completely mourn for something they would never experience," you told him. "But even so, if I were Safed, I'd feel like my effort would've been a waste."

His eyes remained trained on your hair as you spoke. Zandik seems to dislike it. Unlike his cells mixed with engineered nanomaterials, yours are uniquely… "natural". His hair has a color intensity, whereas yours was the presence of every color— as physics explained it.

"Something they would never experience…" Zandik repeated, tasting the words on his tongue— a smirk etched on his face as though it tasted like bitter irony.

You continued.

"I have a hunch that Safed put everything they worked hard on all their pieces because Lady Columbina wouldn't have performed it otherwise. Since all the songs on the concert's program are marketed as underappreciated compositions, I would… um… infer that they also questioned their works and ultimately themselves if it all had worth in the end. Hopeless for the lack of attention, they probably thought there's more hope if they lived in another generation."

You wanted to say, though you're not sure where this negativity came from, that they probably despised how their well-crafted works were ignored and their sloppy yet significantly more popular compositions angered them.

But you're not Safed. You don't want to put words in their mouth.

".... Hmm, an acceptable hypothesis— a decent one, even," whatever monotonous response Zandik wished to convey, his voice betrayed his grand satisfaction. "Yet I won't give you any confirmation."

"I know."

Zandik laughed.

"The next piece is Norn's Adagio for Strings Op. 11, before the closing Symphony No. 6, better known as Pathétique Symphony, in B Minor Op. 74."

You tilted your head innocently. "Pathetic?"

"Another piece by Safed. It's a Fontaine-translated title. It's originally named pateticheskaya, which meant passionate or emotional, not at all pitiable."

He crossed his arms, insulted as though he was the one who came up with the original title.

"Roughly half a millennium past, the masses attributed Safed's demise to the strains of their final composition, the so-called Pathétique, a mere nine days preceding their exit from this mortal coil. The prevailing narrative spouts a tale of a tragic surrender to the clutches of undiagnosed clinical depression. I find such simplicity in analysis rather pedestrian, wouldn't you agree?"

You took a while to process his inquiry before hesitantly nodding.

"I… I think so."

Zandik smiled.

It's hard to tell if it's genuine, especially when such a protruding mask hides his eyes. Should its existence vanish, you aren't certain you'd see a soul within his pupils either.

"Safed hated this piece, believing it should be cast aside and forgotten. They were living in the woodlands when they wrote it— and when they decided to live with their benefactor, it was suddenly difficult to tear them away from their work."

You nodded to cue that you were still listening.

"They have an incredibly deep connection with their works. One might say they see in tunes rather than color."

You nodded again.

"Your inclination towards a perpetual affirmation of propositions, presumably to veil any potential lacunae in your cognitive purview, does not escape me. It is, if I may be so bold, your agreement that conceals your specter of unfamiliarity, right?"

You rarely understand a word he says when he is in this passionate state. You just nod as if you knew.

"Adorable," Zandik chuckled.

His voice was chillingly low yet… comforting. 

"Your sincerity constitutes an enchanting facet of your comportment."

He had to be teasing you.

"Although…" Zandik grabbed a few locks of your hair as though it was slimy and unpleasant— quickly retracting them with a disapproving tilt. "You could stand to utilize more (h/c) hair dyes. How is it conceivable that it has returned to white yet again?"

You opened your mouth but Zandik raised a finger.

"No. I am the scholar here. Do not answer."

You giggled. "Understood, Doctor."

He grinned, inadvertently showing off his pointed canines.

"What a good test subject you are, my dear (Y/n)."

Whether good was a subjective or objective assessment or not was up to interpretation.

The mid-concert intermission began, allowing Lady Columbina's pressured musicians a 20-minute sigh of relief. Zandik ushered you to the back where the Lady Harbinger reposed on a white sofa, her cheek brushing a visibly soft and cloud-like pillow. The bright backstage lighting made her seem ethereal.

She looked like heaven, but Zandik would argue that "(Y/n)" is the true epitome of the word.

"Greetings. As expected, you'd initiate conversation at the earliest convenience." She cooed. "You look younger today, Doctor."

"You know very well that I do not take that as a compliment, Columbina." Zandik scoffed. "How many times will we rehearse this canned script until it is a learned lesson?"

"Perhaps it shall end on the day you refrain yourself from recreating… perspectives."

"Since my encounter with the Dendro Archon, I have not revisited that notion."

Columbina's gentle smile dropped coldly. "You know that your segments are not what I am referring to."

You looked back and forth between the two. Each of them was a distinctively unique person and it's a challenge to take your eyes away from the other.

Hence, when you felt Lady Columbina's eyes on you, you shook and straightened yourself before bowing stiffly.

"G-Greetings, Lady Columbina!!!"

Her gentle smile resurfaced.

"Greetings to you as well, dear Safed."

You blinked.

Dottore clicked his tongue, and Columbina laughed softly.

"Apologies, I meant to say (Y/n)— that is the name you go by in this era of humanity, right?"

You'd rightfully claim that between the three of you, you were the most human. Zandik has his clones, Columbina's origins are of strict secrecy, and you are a mere amnesiac patient. But the way she addressed you was sounding awful like stripping you away with that sense of humane identity.

"Yes? I guess?"

Columbina delightedly buzzed in your reply. "(Y/n)— truly a lovely name. That must mean that you're very healthy! It warms my heart to hear that name again. The other ones had terribly dull names, but if the Doctor had given you this title, then it must mean his research is finally drawing to a close."

Her remarks made little sense. You know little about yourself and trust only the Doctor's judgment. Should you trust her words, then it must mean (Y/n) isn't your real name…

But… that doesn't seem right either. 

"Not quite, the name deserves no celebration," Dottore replied happily. "I merely ran out of translations. Bianco, Wit, Bái— what else is there? Ancient Natlan?"

"Scientists truly make for terrible poets— Why not try Inazuman?" Columbina offered.

Those words must have had a heavy weight to them because Zandik pondered for much longer than expected.

"Hmm. I'll keep that in mind," Zandik muttered. "Although it is preferable it does not have to reach that point."

"May I ask why did you bring them here?" Columbina asked.

"It's a bit of an unconventional experiment, but I've been exploring how to elicit positive associations with certain stimuli. Exposing them to music as I accompany them should cause them to associate the emotional response it elicits with being around me." Dottore hummed. "It would be asinine to put them in a chaotic yet controlled environment such as a theme park. While a racing heart may be effective, I shouldn't risk a (Y/n)'s well-being by subjecting them to roller coasters."

"Are you sure you're not the scared one?" You asked cheekily. Zandik rolled his eyes.

She shook her head.

"What a roundabout way of saying you're taking them out on a concert date…"

Columbina looked at you once more.

"Oh, but (Y/n), you appear unwell, my dear…" she pointed at stage left. "Why don't you fix yourself up in the nearest restroom?"

Dottore raised an eyebrow, which made you want to decline Columbina.

"I'm r-really okay, Lady Colum—"

"I insist."

Columbina smiled wider. Her laced mask cast a gloomy shade on her visage.

You had no other choice.

"O… Okay."

The halls that led to the restroom were mostly empty. Perhaps it was due to Lady Columbina's performance that made them patiently await the next song.

But there was one young man you encountered along the way. He had blonde half-way braided hair and purple-ish eyes. You paid him no mind as he circled a small rectangular paper, likely the concert's ticket, between his fingers. However, within a second, that paper vanished.

You stopped in your tracks and looked at him curiously, wondering if your eyes played tricks. He laughed, noting your attention.

"Ah! Sorry," he cheerfully gestured a small wave. "Didn't mean to practice in public."

The blonde man approached you with a smile.

"You're #9805, right?"

Immediately, you both got on the wrong foot.

Your nose scrunched, "I prefer (Y/n)."

The man flinched. "Oh, yikes! I'm not making the best first impression— nice to meet you (Y/n)! I have something for you."

You thought he was handing you his concert ticket for a moment but when you took a good look, it was a grayscale brochure.

And a white tulip…

"Um…"

"Needless to say, I'm something of a—"

"Trickster?"

"Magician, but an astute guess nonetheless!" He laughed sheepishly. "I was waiting for you, I thought you wouldn't go to the restroom."

So, did Lady Columbina plan this?

You caressed the binding and skimmed through the pages. "What's this for?"

"Father said you might be interested in its contents," the young man said. "That's all."

You blinked.

"... Are you saying you missed out most of the concert just to hand me this?"

He laughed awkwardly again. "My dear sister says I have a habit of missing a hint of romanticism when it counts, so I guess today's just one of those moments."

"Did you not like the music?" You scoffed, temper rising.

"Did you hate the composition? Did you not understand the e-emotion behind the chords? Don't you understand just how d-disrespectful that was?!"

"Woah, woah, I didn't say any of that." His eyes widened.

He didn't expect your voice to crack.

"I'm so sorry if you're offended— are you one of the original composers?"

…

You took a deep breath.

… Why were you mad?

… Why did it feel like those songs mean more to you than meets the eye?

"Sorry, I just…" You shook your head. "I guess I'm not feeling well. Oh, no, I'm so SO sorry…"

An unknown part of you thrived to hear him praise the music. That same part pitied the composer who worked day and night to perfect their piece. It's an ugly voice, but it was sincere.

… What was wrong with you? Why did you suddenly lash out? What was going on?

"Oh, well there's no need to be sorry then." The blonde man took his hat off and bowed.

"Farewell, Mx. (Y/n)!" He grinned. "The greatest magician in all Teyvat will take his leave. Thank you for your time!"

With the sway of his dark cape, he disappeared.

You entered the restroom to wash your face. It didn't do much to soothe your nerves. The lingering dread for your strange emotional mood swing remained.

To distract yourself, you read through the article.

The Enigmatic Legacy of Composer Safed

In the annals of musical history, few figures emerge as enigmatic and hauntingly captivating as the orchestral composer, Safed. Born five centuries ago amidst the ancient woodlands of Sumeru, this ethereal musician seemingly materialized from Vanarama with no familial relations.

Huh… So it's about the one who wrote the previous compositions earlier.

No wonder that blonde man asked if you were one of the composers. He was being a smartass.

A Fiery Finale: The Pathétique Symphony

Legend has it that in their final act of emotional expression, Safed penned the "Pathétique Symphony," a composition so emotionally charged that, overwhelmed with disdain for their creation, they purportedly set ablaze their woodland home. Seeking solace and escape, Safed accepted the benevolent offer of a city-dwelling benefactor.

…

…

Safed… burned down their house?

No…

No, that's not how you remembered that.

No.

No. No. No. No. No.

That's not what happened. "Safed" didn't burn their house down.

Suddenly, you stilled. Your thoughts ran wild, but your inner rationale tried to force them to a halt. This peak in anxiety did not make sense.

… Why would an amnesiac like you know what happened?

A Swansong: Il Dottore's Beneficence

Their benefactor, now celebrated as our Lord Harbinger, Il Dottore, welcomed Safed into the city's heart. It was here that the truth unfolded: Safed had been grappling with hearing loss for years, an affliction that fueled their artistic brilliance yet cloaked them in a muffled world. They were unaware of their disability, yet thrived in their field.

…

…

Wait…

Before you began to read the final paragraph in Safed's brochure, you hurriedly went back to Dottore and the composer's vintage photographed portraits.

After seeing their face, you dropped the brochure in the restroom's sink.

You saw their face.

You saw YOUR face and Zandik's.

But not quite. That was you, but at the same time, it wasn't. Zandik looked stiff in those photos with "you", likely a product of the time since Kamera photography was used only in rare formalities that required a bit of dress up. But the "you" you saw was sickly way beyond the formal costumes. They had (e/c) eyes and (h/c) hair, but yours were all white. 

White…

Safed… That's the Sumeru translation for white, isn't it?

Bianco, Wit, Bái— they're all translations for "white", aren't they? And if Dottore and Columbina's earlier conversations were to go by, the one after you would be named Shiro.

…

The one… after you?

"Tut tut."

You trembled at the familiar sound.

You slowly turned your head around and there he was, leaning against the restroom door.

"You were in the restroom for too long. It appears my suspicions were not unfounded."

Without waiting for a response, he approached with large strides. His gloved hands seized your stressed shoulders. The grip tightened harshly as he forced you to meet his intense gaze. Blood trailed from the corner of your mouth, and your anxiety heightened. He angrily bared his sharp teeth as he watched it stain his gloves.

And yet Zandik looks…

Sad.

And distressed.

He pressed his earpiece.

"Test Subject #9805 exhibits troubling symptoms. Hematemesis suggests a severe physiological response. Persistent manifestations of albinism in ocular and follicular pigmentation indicate underlying deformities. Immediate isolation is warranted for the researcher and subject's well-being."

His hand was cold. Skin imbued with silver nanomaterials after several operations, reminiscent of the age-old philosophical question: "Is it still the same ship if you gradually replace all of its parts?" 

Then Zandik did something unexpected.

He dropped his hold and you prepared yourself by shutting your eyes as he swung his arm.

To hug you.

"I'm sorry, I have failed you again, (Y/n)," Zandik muttered. "I should not have raised my expectations."

"W… What? Why are you putting me in isolation?" You asked, rattled. "What have I done?! I just— I didn't do anything wrong! What did I—"

He shifted, dragging your arm to hug him back as though you were a little girl's doll. Zandik rested his head on your shoulder, shaking slightly.

"In your innocence, no fault lies. I thought I had accomplished what I had set out to do, and met unfulfilled expectations" Zandik gritted his teeth, voice somber. "Despite centuries of refinement, it appears that I still have room for improvement in perfecting the process… I was right. This deserves no celebration."

The doctor laughed sadly.

"When will I ever be proven wrong?" He asked himself as he wiped the blood off the corner of your lips.

He pulled away, pecking your forehead.

"I'm sorry."

Those were not the words you expected from his mouth, and yet you heard it more than once. I'm sorry. It does not fit his character, nor does the tender yet cold hug he had given prior.

You're scared. You're terrified. You know what was bound to come. You know what awaits you. White walls. Silence. Separation.

Solitary.

Far from a choice. Far from negotiable.

There's no amnesty.

And yet, the words flowed from you naturally.

"... I forgive you."

You have no idea why you said what you said. There's no certainty that you believed your own words. Zandik's lip twitched downward.

"You should not," Zandik croaked. "Why? Why must you always forgive and accept my selfishness? Do you derive satisfaction in seeing me in this state?!"

You opened your mouth to answer but were stopped abruptly as he grabbed your hair.

Zandik had always favored you compared to other patients. You know this very well. He's an evil man and the list of actions he had done that had harmed you in the name of science is at least two pages long upon your awakening. Yet, you were sure he liked you enough for he told you of his new exciting experiments. He scolded you when you left his research institute for fresh air. And he would hold your hand whenever you dreaded those thick injections.

You just didn't know he had it in him to fold from his intimidating facade just to kiss you like a desperate man. 

Breathless under his control, he softly pressed his lips against yours. His lips were chapped and cold, and he took you in gently as though he'd break you. Zandik, as strange as it was, still seemed to prioritize your comfort over his needs. Normally, this tension would've made him so short-tempered. But this will be your last interaction. The doctor tasted your blood in his mouth, and he was nauseous at the thought of hurting you more. But he stopped. Even though he wishes to force all his pent-up desires onto you. Even though he wanted to love you thoroughly that you'd forget your name again.

Zandik whimpered quietly as he pulled away— sounding like a dog that would not sleep that night. What was left in between was a thin disappearing line of saliva and blood that quickly broke off.

The doctor should be happy he finally got to have a proper date with you after 9805 failed attempts. 

But he's not content.

He was about to lean in for the second time but stopped himself. Selfish. To think he nearly saw you two finally walking down the aisle. Why was he always so selfish when it came to you? But those rhetorics mattered not in your head.

You were silenced. You were held.

You were loved.

"No." Zandik breathed in, laughing humorlessly. "No— I am the scholar here. Don't answer."

And you will be disposed of.

"Take them away." He spoke to his men calmly. They had entered long enough to witness what he had done. The men did not hesitate to grab you, thinking Dottore thought you no more than a mere toy.

But calm was deceptive. It does not convey the distress that chokes him.

Maybe…

Maybe in the 9806's trial… he'll have you as he always wanted.

The Fatuus that escorted you in was gentle. A silent guide. The expression on her face was clear that she wanted to extend her apologies as well but mustn't.

You already have a white tulip in hand.

Arlecchino already sended her regards in advance.

When she opened the door by tapping a card against the lock, she bowed her head. You let yourself enter without a fight. The room was pure white with the rest of the furniture matching the drapes. But Dottore didn't just provide the necessities. There were books, sketch pads, and other recreational materials.

As you were about to approach the center, something was off on both sides.

You looked to your left.

Two clear mirrors divided your room from the others. There's a sign on the left wall. Code #4135.

You stood, shocked, grieving at the sight of your predecessor. They were a mirror of you but with a different name— and an even worse state.

One had made a slight sound coming off their skin— rotting slightly. There's a tube connected to their mouth and you could see yourself— you could see them dripping. They had your face. Their hair and eyes were white. The nose was gone, leaving a gaping hole. Their neck was cricked back at an unnatural angle. You don't know if they're still breathing. They're still bleeding. They must've bitten off their tongue.

There's a lone white blanket that covers the rest of them.

You think they might be dead.

You think "you" might've died more than once.

THUD!

You jolted at the sound coming from the wall behind you. Upon seeing their body, you froze.

Code #032.

They were but a head. You wish you could only focus on that aspect, but you looked lower and your hair raised. They cannot feel the same, for they were almost only a spine left. The rest of them were their skeletal frame, guided by thin lines one can barely call flesh.

Their head banged against the mirror. The thought that the sound was what made you flinch earlier made you unwell.

They seem to be telling you something. Their breath fogged up the glass and their thinned white hair splayed across your view. Their mouth said something urgently you couldn't comprehend because their tongue was paper-like in size.

#032 was shaking. Their pain grew vivid in every movement that the room was starting to spin. You sensed their turmoil.

They looked like death.

You all looked like death itself, both the pretty and ugly ends of it.

"Don't." You whispered, begging as you knelt to their level. "You don't have to speak."

You laughed deprecatingly.

"We're not the scholar here. He is."

In every syllable, you saw the outline of their esophagus strain. The nerves were blueish purple. The little skin they have left on their cheeks is sunken. Their lips were gnawed, likely as a response to the pain they'd gone through previously. Fists of bone tapped against the glass, and you quivered, imagining their pain.

You were not afraid of them. You only mourned their anguish. In fact, you feel at ease to be in the presence of yourself from the past.

It reminded you of what "Safed" had allegedly spoken years ago.

Nobody understood the pieces you made and you wished you could conduct the first performance five centuries after your first death.

And now, here you are.

Seeing two "people" who do understand you.

And they share your face.

"Pathetically", the only one that can understand you is yourself.

You're all flies trapped in a web that the predator refuses to wrap and consume out of pity. Compared to the others, you looked fine.

But your lungs were blistering.

Despite their deathly ill and mutilated bodies, you were the one bound to die soon enough.

His experiments worked.

You love him.

You love Zandik.

And how tragic it was that the person who learned how to love him was doomed to perish.

In your last minutes, you recalled something vital:

As an outsider, your body was not meant for this world, but after encountering the woodland creatures and Zandik, it became tremendously difficult to part ways with it.

You coughed up yet again with a gentle smile on your face. Maybe you're not dying…

Maybe you're just returning home, for every atom in your multiple bodies was once part of the galaxy.

You are (Y/n) (L/n).

And you were not from Teyvat.

Much like the rest of the descenders, you have a quirk about you that sets you apart from the norm. For the travelers the world reveres today, it was their distinct determination and questionable age that was remarkable. Yours slightly titters to an inhuman level.

You can "clone" yourself.

Zandik and the "original" you wouldn't phrase it in that manner, but it's the easiest way to describe your talents.

"So, it is cloning." Zandik paused. "Mind letting me in on the science behind the process?"

He was an ordinary student when you both met. Far from a doctor, but at least he was a registered scholar in the Akademiya. Zandik didn't have an eloquent tongue as he does in the present, yet his curiosity burned all the same.

Which is why, back then, you thought his questions were cute.

Not dangerous.

"It's not that I can make copies of myself without consequences," you humored with a grin. "I'm just making… fragments of myself. Segments, if you prefer to call it that. It's a common ability for the people back in my world. None of us do it excessively— especially since we're kind of an invasive species." 

Zandik raised an eyebrow, "is that a commendable trait?"

"My kind says so. Whether good is a subjective or objective assessment or not is up to interpretation." You answered noncommittedly. "I don't think that's right. Our soul splits apart until we're just… empty. We lose some memories in the process."

"But functioning?"

"In a sense, yeah, but we lose a part of ourselves like memories and well, hair color, I guess." You nodded. "Why are you so curious?"

"Since you have rejected my confession, I want to try my hand at seducing a copy of yours instead," Zandik said. You couldn't tell whether he was joking with his naturally piercing red eyes. "Until then, you are not allowed to asexually reproduce without my authorization. Understood?"

You laughed. Unaware of his arsonist crimes, you willingly indulged his words.

"I owe you my ears, so it's only right that I'll listen to your commands, Zandik."

"Good." Zandik grinned, shark-like.

"What a good test subject you are, (Y/n)."

Centuries later, that closing sentence will continue to remain true.

Since then, his life has changed. Multiplied, even. Upon studying your genetic makeup, he found ways to duplicate himself as well. Despite his feats in science, Zandik remained unhappy.

Deep down, all the Harbingers pity the Doctor who cannot save his most loved one. That includes both Columbina and Arlecchino.

No one protests even when harmful orders are given; everything appears fine until the symptoms are felt. Because the organism— the astral descender— has no nerves or voice, he continues to assume that the patient is not in pain.

The patient needs peace but because they are not to speak, they remain silent, and the need persists.

The patient wants to eat and breathe fresh air, but because such desires might hurt the feelings of the doctor who thinks he has done everything needed, the patient remains quiet, contemplating desires out of fear of reprimand.

The original (Y/n) (L/n) suffers in silence. In a white room only accessible by a man who continues to nurse his unrequited love: Zandik.

No one else can enter this room.

He won't allow it. Only he can be obsessed with you.

The thought of you haunts him like a smiling reflection upon window panes— like a gift of a Trojan horse with nothing but your echoing laughter and hospital monitor beeps inside. Your thin limbs were marching clock hands with rusted gears that miraculously function till the end of time.

What is immortality for if every day was a death loop?

It is such a lonely concept…

You ought to be thankful that he's willing to be your eternal company.

"I endeavored to elicit a reciprocation of my sentiments from the latest subject. Regrettably, their discovery of my antecedent experiments transpired prematurely. Nevertheless, as asserted several times, it remains but a temporal inevitability until an iteration of yourself succumbs to having an interest towards me." Dottore hummed.

He held your feet.

He held Test Subject #01's feet.

If you spoke up, he would've bragged about how he was right. How people do love your songs. But no one knows if you can't or won't answer him. This one-sided conversation is the punishment for his hubris.

He took out a sharp knife and cut off one of your toes. You no longer feel any pain as you bleed into his hands. What a kind man the doctor is, for he blocked all your pain receptors years ago. It's a good thing you regenerate quickly.

That's what he loved and hated about you.

You only gave and gave.

But you never ran out of soul. You never ran your heart fully dry— and that left you ill. Zandik could never let you go.

You're already a part of him.

Hence, he must not make clones of exaggerated memories. He wanted your perfect yet healthy replica.

Praise be the white corpuscles extracted from your veins which had brought him new life. You were the reason for his research. You were the breath that gave his segments life. You were his muse, much like he was yours.

"Fear not, (Y/n)," he reassured with a measured tone. "Upon my mastery of the arts, I intend to reinstate your autonomy and awareness. Perhaps then, you shall find the organic inclination to reciprocate affection toward me by the 9806's trial. Until then…"

In other words, give him more time and he'll reinvent love.

He leaned his forehead against yours.

"I'm so, so sorry."

And ultimately, he'll reinvent YOU.

"Can I have another piece of your scalp?"

"No."

"Do you not understand the weight of this research or must I expound on it further in another three-hour presentation?"

"Alternatively, you could start by saying that you're sorry," you raised an eyebrow. "I'm still not over the fact you randomly cut a piece of my ear when I was asleep, doctor. You know, I heard from the aranaras that white tulips are given to someone when they ask for forgiveness."

Zandik smirked.

"Regrettably, it seems that such an occurrence is unlikely to transpire. Do not expect such words and gifts from me."

You smiled.

"We'll see, we'll see."

Taglist (pls notify if you wish to be on the taglist for the last two): @average-yandere-enjoyer @pix-stuff @sagekun @vennnnn-diagram @dilucragnidvr @tnsophiaonly @lsleepysimpl

[hana-no-seiiki]

I saw that you need ideas, so how about a yandere from the Neons? I mean, I would like to see more content from them since they represent the elements in Honkai star rail, by the way, sorry if you don't understand, my English is bad... I leave you a little drawing of a masculine makima (it has nothing to do with it, but as a gift ) xd Also, I don't know if I'm the only one, but Nanook makes me handsome >///<

(Sorry, I had already finished it but the work was stained hahaha and I did it again)

Yus the Aeons are so cool looking!! You really feel like they’re actual gods of the universe, especially since you don’t see them first hand (at least for now). Also Masculine Makima reminds me of Karma Akabane lol. I’ll draw it in my style, and add it here as an extra for you ♥️

Hb we mash those two topics up together actually?

warnings: mild yandere themes. mild spoilers for csm. major canon divergence. reader takes the shape of a masc/amab character but it isnt their original form.

status: unedited. updated art.

YANDERE! AEONS + VARIOUS! HSR x AEON OF FEAR/CONTROL! READER

You have no memory of your conception, only that you started existing for what felt like an eternity.

You represented fear and despair, but unlike IX whose mere presence drove humanity into insanity, or the rest of your fellow aeon’s godlike status amongst the world,

you walked around as a normal, ordinary human being.

As normal as an Aeon can get anyways.

In your current lifetime, you took the shape of Himeko’s “brother”, planting fake memories into her mind and being the one that urged her to travel the stars. While she was the navigator, you took the role of conductor before creating Pompom to supplant you.

Welt always knew you weren’t just a regular person. Your eyes always felt distant, so far off that not even a century’s worth of trail blazing would allow him to come close. As such he mostly kept cordial relations with you.

The youngsters of the bunch on the other hand, never seemed to realize the sheer magnanimity of the danger you held and always hung around you.

Particularly that Caelus. The newest addition to the crew. The stellaron within him always pulsed in some sort of giddiness and excitement whenever you were around. The boy couldn’t help but be a nervous wreck when he was around you. Stuttering and stumbling was a common occurrence whenever you so decide as to just breathe at his direction.

You knew what those Stellarons are, their nature, their purpose, the way they were created. In fact if you wanted to, you could have taken the Astral Express straight to the source of it all, your partner: Nanook.

However that would have ruined the fun of it all. So you chose to let them have their little adventures before the final confrontation.

Also because you signed a contract to not meddle with Nanook’s business in exchange for your freedom. But that was another story to tell.

“Why . . . why do you continue this farce? This utterly worthless play?”

IX’s voice rang within your ears and no one else’s. You were the only being it ever gave the time of day to. You imagine it to be the reason why insanity slowly built itself within the recesses of your head.

“You may see the entire universe as worthless . . . but I,” You breath hitched. You looked around your room. Time was frozen. Everything turned grey. You weren’t afraid of the others in the express hearing you, just that the following words you were about to spout out felt like bile on your mouth. “I suppose I’m still a bit like them in a way. I wish to see the world without its evils.”

“And destroying them. That is my first step.” You summon an orb of golden light. Stellarons. The creation of the very thing that made you loath all evil. Including yourself. You will eradicate these and then Nanook yourself. One day.

“Is that why you send those hunters out?”

“Perhaps.” The orb within your hands get covered in chains, quickly getting crushed within the metal like substance as it soon disappeared.

“Do as you wish. Just do not bother me like that imbecile.”

“I promise. I will be much worse than Yaoshi.”

IX remained silent for several seconds, no doubt regretting its decision of associating with you before adding, “. . . And do not die.”

“That one I cannot guarantee.”

Your room’s color returns, time continues. Signaling the end of two Aeons’ encounter.

Nanook, the Aeon that threatened to eradicate all that you love. All so they could have your soul once more. Within your gilded cage. Within your original body that lied dormant.

The Destruction will no longer be a path. That is a guarantee you write upon the stars when your Trail Blazing lifetime eventually comes to a close.

The stage is set, your actors ready.

All you needed was the cue.

Your gloved hand arose, pointing towards the express’s windows in the shape of a gun.

“Bang.”

[holorform2009]

I can't hold it any longer....

My mind is still thinking about those identical trains....

Here's the platonic yandere Emmet and Ingo Brud!reader. *Sighs in defeat*

it took you two days for you to escape hell, to escape them. It hurts you to see your friends hurting you, especially Simon. He was the one who ate your head, your torso and also your hat that hides the spike on your head.

You don't know why this is happening to you and everyone, but the only thing you know is when black came uninvited everything turns to hell.

And right now, you are currently in a tunnel with a train tracks that you don't know of, it was foreign to you. It was pretty dark out here to the point it made you accidentally bump your forehead on walls many times that you lost count. And to be honest, it makes you more dumber than you already are.

As you were wandering not knowing where to go, you see two tunnel that leads to a different path.

You chose left.

After a minutes of wandering, you saw something on the wall so you take a closer look to see what it was and turns out, it was your favorite food to eat when you are alone!

What food you may ask?

it's a moss of course!

Since no one is around here, you can eat it without the eyes of someone else watching you with judgemental eyes. You grabbed the moss on the wall and ate it with a smile on your face.

As you were having a momento with your food, you heard a faint and echoey footsteps that sounded like it was in front of you. You stopped eating and looked up to the source of the sound. You may be dumb and stupid but that doesn't mean you don't know how to be cautious of your surroundings, especially after what happened to your friends.

You squint your one eye, to see who the figure is in the dark. It's hard to look at one eye to be honest.

In the dark, you see a man holding a lamp. He was wearing a white conductor, and a creepy smile on his face why does he looked like wenda. Should you run away or should you walk up to him and say hi?

Running away sounds stupid like you already are, so you chose the second option. Walk up to him and say hi.

So you did, you walk up to him and say 'hi' or more like you sang in a distorted tone "🎶🎵🎵🎶!" The smiling man looked at you and blinked owlishly twice. And that's when he started to noticed your wounds, especially the one on your head. His smile uncharacteristically turned upsidedown at the sight of your wounds.

"Goodness! You are deeply injured!"

After that encounter he had with you, you were immediately sent to the hospital to treat your wounds that is waaay too concerning for Emmet. Like waaaaaaaaay concerning that he stays outside the medic room and wait till you are wrapped up in a bandages. He wants to know if you are okay. Seeing you like that makes him think how are you still alive? You had a huge bite mark on your head. Did a hostile Pokemon bit your head out of hunger?

When he saw you approaching him in that tunnel, he was about to start asking you questions like why are you here and where are your parents and you are not supposed to be here but when you spoke he stopped. He did not understand what you said to him.

Meanwhile

With you

You swing your legs as you are sitting on the edge of a bed, you wondered what would happen if you go to the right tunnel. The nurse came to check you up once more before calling the man in white inside to see you.

__________

As you were wandering not knowing where to go, you see two tunnel that leads to a different path.

You chose right

After a minutes of wandering, you saw something on the wall so you take a closer look to see what it was and turns out, it was your favorite food to eat when you are alone!

What food you may ask?

It's a moss of course!

Since no one is around here, you can eat it without the eyes of someone else watching you with judgemental eyes. You grabbed the moss on the wall and ate it with a smile on your face.

As you were having a momento with your food, you heard a faint and echoey footsteps that sounded like it was in front of you. You stopped eating and looked up to the source of the sound. You may be dumb and stupid but that doesn't mean you don't know how to be cautious of your surroundings, especially after what happened to your friends.

You squint your one eye, to see who the figure is in the dark. It's hard to look at one eye to be honest.

In the dark, you see a man holding a lamp. He was wearing a black conductor, and a frown on his face. Should you run away or should you walk up to him and say hi?

Running away sounds stupid like you already are, so you chose the second option. Walk up to him and say hi.

So you did, you walk up to him and say 'hi' or more like you sang in a distorted tone "🎶🎵🎵🎶!" The frowning man looked at you and blinked owlishly twice. And that's when he started to noticed your wounds, especially the one on your head. His face uncharacteristically turned horrified at the sight of your wounds as his frown deepens.

He let out a loud, booming and also concerned voice. "Oh dear! You are deeply injured!"

After that encounter he had with you, you were immediately sent to the hospital to treat your wounds that is very concerning for Ingo. Concerned that he stays outside the medic room and wait till you are wrapped up in a bandages. He wants to know if you are okay. Seeing you like that makes him think how are you still alive? You had a huge bite mark on your head. Did a hostile Pokemon bit your head out of hunger?

When he saw you approaching him in that tunnel, he was about to start asking you questions like why are you here and where are your parents and you are not supposed to be here but when you spoke he stopped. He did not understand what you said to him.

Meanwhile

With you

You swing your legs as you are sitting on the edge of a bed, you wondered what would happen if you go to the left tunnel. The nurse came to check you up once more before calling the man in black inside to see you.

[moonligyt1234]

The Conductors Favorite

[NAME]

[LAST NAME]

They/them

Sypnosis: Everyone have a favorite person in their life then who is the favorite person of the conductor of the express.

Warnings: Platonic and Soft Yandere, Over protective, Ooc

If many people would ask who is your favorite person some would say it shyly and others will say it with confident.

For the newest Trailblazer wanted to ask who is the Conductors Favorite but with observations they managed to get their answer without asking them.

It was not that hard to notice how Pompom lets you off hook most of the time.

When you forgotten that you should not put your feet in the seat the Trailblazer was about to warn you when they saw turned around a corner. But the thing is they didn't pay attention to you.

Leaving the newest Trailblazer like a stone. They swore they heard Himeko chuckled.

Pompom is a huge clean freak. That could be said. How many times the conductor berated them to clean their own mess.

But with you, you're once again off the hook.

The conductor merely says for you to go to the bathroom and there they go.

Or it could be the fact the times you couldn't fall asleep and spend late night hours with Pompom entertaining them with their Trailblazing stories.

The Trailblazer could probably how the conductors eyes light up and ask relentless questions.

Even they were told by a story from March of the Conductors protectiveness towards you.

During one fateful Trailblazing journey you managed to get a severe injury. Pompom wouldn't leave your side fo weeks even abandoning their duties.

Pompom wouldn't even budge from where they are just silently watching added hoping that you're still alive.

It was no trinket that after a Trailblazing journey you will give the conductor a present from the planet you adventured even it the planet in question was isolated.

If someone ask Pompom on who is their favorite person is. They will gladly say it with no hestitation on their voice.

"It's [NAME] of course."

[brittle-doughie]

Y/N Cookie as their kingdom and they have a role in many high-stakes battles that could decide the fate of Earthbread: "I wonder where I'd be right now if I hadn't founded this kingdom..."

(Meanwhile, in another timeline)

Y/N Cookie, somewhere in a giant castle rife with mystery, on a sofa, in front of a fireplace, with their self-proclaimed brilliant assistant cozily cuddled up beside them: "Hey Curious Cupcake"

Curious Cupcake: "Yes boss?~"

Y/N Cookie: "I wonder where I'd be if I tried to do something with those ruins I came across..."

Curious Cupcake: "Where would you be..."

(Self-indulgence aside, I have come to bring forth the yandere sprite of Curious Cupcake Cookie. I forgot to give it over last time and witches forbid we have a normal member of the cupcake jamline even if she is a distant relation)

(Oh, and I also forgot to say that you have my permission to use my sprite art, in fact it would make my day)

It’s pretty much in the dough DNA of every Cupcake family member that when their feelings spike in love, their pupils turn to hearts. Meant for their love of Y/N Cookie in any timeline.

(This makes me want to think of a Cupcake for TOA. Red Velvet Cupcake Cookie, she has Hollyberry’s body build of being large and strong looking, meant as the bodyguard of Conductor Y/N Cookie.

[yourheart-inmyhands]

In your recent Dan Heng fic, you mentioned Himeko and Welt giving him advice for his darling… do you think you could do something with the three of them trying to “socialize” the terrified darling?

Ah this is such a cute idea! I didn’t involve the three of them together so much as I did expand the idea of Dan Heng socializing Reader, so I hope you still like it :D

Warning: this post contains yandere-themes, including implied being held against one’s will, delusional behaviors, being forcibly socialized, and other potential topics. Please read at your own risk!

Things start off fairly rough at first, with Dan Heng trying to loop you in with everyone else instantly, but your behavior and reactions made it difficult to do so. This led to a different course of socialization, wherein Dan Heng would try to slowly introduce people to you on your own terms. He allowed you time to get acclimated to the bedroom the two of you shared before looping in Himeko for help.

Her and Welt had been the two he’d gone to for advice, they were older and wiser, it was only natural Dan Heng sought them out. Himeko also has a soft, almost mothering side to her when it came to the younger individuals on the express, making her the perfect to be the first to acclimate you to.

The plan was near to perfect, once you had settled in and gotten used to Dan Heng and your new bedroom, then slowly he’d introduce the members of the express to you until you had grown accustomed to everyone. Originally he had considered PomPom as the first choice, with the conductors soft looks and chipper demeanor, but he changed his mind when considering Himeko as an option. She was kind, almost motherly to the group, and had been a huge help alongside Welt in not only getting you on board the express, but in helping him with ideas for getting you settled.

“Since you have gotten comfortable a bit, I thought now would be a good time to introduce you to Himeko.” Dan Heng stays in the room with you two the whole time, chatting with the two of you over tea as one of his hands holds yours. This would be the first of many meetings to get you used to Himeko, some of which Dan Heng would be absent for. While he adored the way you used him as a shield, he wanted you to be comfortable without him around as well.

The order of which Dan Heng introduces you to everyone starts with Himeko, followed by Welt, next comes PomPom, then March, and so on. He tries to slowly build up to the more excitable personality types, starting off with Himeko and Welt for their older, almost parently type of personalities.

When you have at least met with everyone, he starts to bring you around the express with him more. Even if he’s just going to grab himself a drink, he has you walk there with him, to help you feel more at home aboard the express. He hopes to have you walking freely like everyone else, no longer tied down to just one room. He wants you to feel at home, like he does.

[moronkombat]

INCEST YANDERE DADDY TRAIN... I feel like bi-han, shang, shao, and havik would be the conductors here. Maybe kenshi and reiko too. Kuai in a fucked up timeline but he would be a gentle yandere daddy i think.

But bi-han definitely feels like he would be in the first car. He would be so protective of his little girl- he only trusts kuai to be around her and then later on hardly even him. She's growing up so fast and he cant bare the though of another man even LOOKING at her. No... he is her father and her grandmaster. He'll keep her happy in a gilded cage and eventually show her how much he loves her, how he can please her better than any other man in all the realms. One night he creeps into her room and fingers her awake before putting her into a mating press.... thats how it starts, and then every night afterwards she gets to have special time with daddy. No one else is allowed in or out, just him.

She's pregnant by the end of the month.

-ASN

AHHHHH THIS IS AMAZING CONTENTTTT AHHH WAAAAAH I NEED IT

[honey-minded-hivemind]

Some of the Pokémon AUs, folks:

• Trainer! Reader AU: where Reader is some regular kid/teen/young adult on their way to become a champion, featuring gym leader adults, rivals and companion teens, and the X-Men and their Pokémon wanting to help Reader succeed! (And be platonic yandere for them)

• Dark Pokémon AU: where the Pokémon gods remade the Pokémon world, making Poképle (pokemon/human hybrids), amd the champions are now legends, asleep for a few centuries... Reader wakes up in a strange new region, and go out to find out what happened...

• Submas! Reader AU: idea by @thewickedweiner, where Reader is a train station master/conductor, they're about 20 years old, and they try to avoid fighting the two trainers, Jubilee and Roberto! (Features: platonic yandere X-Men, recurring villains, and lots of Joltiks)

[warmerstranger]

STARFRUIT PICKS AND CARVINGS

。°˖ ʚɞ ꒦꒷⩩ Ft. The Astral Express (Trailblazer, March 7th, Dan Heng, Himeko, Welt Yang, Pom Pom) x GN! Reader

°°``Marked as and not excluding: Yandere (manipulation, overprotective, controlling behaviors, implied stalking, gaslight, obsession, possessive traits), found family <3

°°``Recommended to read for those 16+, please proceed with caution.

Woo! Finally back :) Himeko is shortest despite being the first part I worked on.. unexpectedly difficult to write for.

✏ Packed up with unknown origins and left to wander as a fresh face with a gaze filled with wonder and raw sincerity like a piece of paper waiting to write out your own life, you're welcomed with open arms to travel between the stars and treated as if you've been around for a longer than even more than the Conductor themself.

☄Stelle/Caelus (The Funky Sibling)

- The one saving and dragging your ass out when you dive into troubles (particularly that is caused with/by them in the first place). You both be topping the most troublesome duo due to them being a calamitous influence on you, literally before you know it, you're already in it together; doing a little bit silly tomfoolery, antics and trash treasure hunting.

Despite them acting out a deadpan humor 23/7, they're gutsy and all when the situation needs it especially on that one time you're to hide in a closet with them from the Goethe Hotel's resident devil. Hands down they would really give a beating/long roast and rant to whoever is the unlucky person that mistreat you they aren't going to let it slide as long as you're under their watch, you have to restrain them back literally if you even could...! Trailblazer is either the living personification of your inner demons, intrusive thoughts, the very lethal temptations that need to be acted upon with you as the enabler or you can be a little goody-two shoes yourself and be the one affecting them under good impact—to be a reasonable member of the society, that's fine too. You can't change them at their core anyway, they're still their own person with a mind to act as they like, the omen of chaotic authenticity (you still play a big role in determining their behavior structure since they would be swayed easily especially if you ask nicely with a cherry on top and puppy eyes).

They like to gift you random trinkets you would've thought that they stole it off from some high class places or people (they might have) but most are actually from trash cans, they don't tell you that of course unless you ask nicely with a Cherry on top and even then you'll have to go through their original recital of the quote unquote, 'enlightening hard-fought' battles and journeys for obtaining the valuable trinkets.

You can count on them for any shiny secret of the stars/universe for sure, they're up to give you some thoughts-empty philosophical preaching that would leave you both more questions than answers. Onward to another illusion of free choice.

❆ March 7th (The Mouthy Cousin)

- The one treating you to accessories or piece of clothing she thinks you would be fit in or anything that might catch your eyes in the shopping sessions with her. You're mostly being treated as her dress-up doll or best companion for her to dump the juicy gossips or trends she got her hands on depending on her mood, no in-between.

March is always gushing about you one way or another, snapping pictures of you with her together so fast in a row of clicks that you can't really stop her from how... active she is. Surely she's just a harmless big fan of yours. In reality, she absolutely have tons of your candid pictures in her another separate limitless-storage camera. Any expressions, poses, and moments about you are a must she couldn't miss it a sec! She's literally keeping a secret album or scrapbook filled with them she could beat Dan Heng's data bank collection in that category at this point. What you don't know, wouldn't hurt you, right? Sometimes she and the Trailblazer quarrel against each other in terms of borrowing you as a partner/company to go with, like March would maximize all her brain cells potential for any reasons she could make up on that occassion or she would just have to delve in the intense battle of rock-paper-scissors.

She's your reliable source for up-to-date information and all the sensational tidbits, so you're very forced encouraged to count on her at that!

✒ Dan Heng (The Silent but Deadly Brother)

- The voice of reason, the dependable go-to in gathering and tidying up your thoughts, undoing the knots of jumbled up thoughts since he has the most braincell compared to the certain two others. Before you realize it, he's the person to depend on mostly—the closest you can reach out to anytime possible, you could be baring your heart to him and you wouldn't possibly realize when he has already keep it safe to somewhere out of reach from anyone else. Now, you would be holing yourself up more often in his room. Since he has this cultured cool air that makes him seem cool and competent, his words are credible ordinarily and thus influence your decision-making ability more like he would only need to tell you not to do something just in a quiet and clear tone and you could feel your temptation to inflict chaos withdrawed for the time being.

More frequently you might start to see yourself hovering close to Dan Heng or, is it him who has been always there from the first beginning as if knowing all your frequent spot and routes? Somehow you get the highest urge to be well-behaved under someone's silent watchful eyes that felt prickly with uneasiness it's almost like he has you on a leash.

You would be more prone to choose this alternative more than that option, taking up that one method because it's proven effective for you. Dan Heng doesn't need to do anything too drastic, what thoughts have he learned and collected about you are rarely let out too, it's giving him a peaceful satisfaction to know you're secured in his lines of thinking unless you start to go off the rails and gets your well-being threatened, that's when he will step in, revealing the moment you could witness he doesn't actually have that much self-restraint to uphold like the two others.

❇ Himeko (The Coffee Aunt)

- The one spoiling you rotten, similar to how March is, but in terms of more lavish things, clothes, and including weapons...!? She would every month give you enough allowance for you to splurge on depending how well you're behaving.

In your life, Himeko has become your driving force in a way you might not notice and you would end up only be ashamed of yourself after she gives you this disapproving look while telling you she isn't one to tell you something because she embodies a spirit of being adventurous herself, but she wouldn't be sure if you could do fine yet getting into specifically dangerous things like that. It's up to you nonetheless, she won't stop you, she wouldn't refuse to give a helping hand even in your supposedly own mess you made and if you had learn something you might regret for being involved with... be sure not to let her know or she would keep impelling you towards those things over and over until you get stronger as her way of training so you could face them by yourself that in the end, you might seek more journey and challenging ways of life to bask yourself in...

Of course, you also have the privilege to have her special coffee. In fact, she never stops getting ideas of new blends she could give to you based on your experiences so far—they would give it a more everlasting taste in your mouth that you wouldn't ever forget, don't you think? As reminded of that spacious and overwhelming milky way...

✦ Welt (The Thoughtful Grandpa)

- The one most doting and lenient on you who still keeps you under a protective control. Welt is the perfect balance out of the family; experienced, compassionate, has a boyish charm, sophisticated and wise. He's someone who you can't help but love him simply as the youthful parent he is. Either way, he has become the important part of your life, eager to keep pace with you and find out your latest development or daily journey. He likes to provide you with some of animations mixed of his experiences, everything that had passed up until the current time, your adventure and/or everyday routine as entertainment and even hinted education through clues and points you can take note from whenever you feel like you're in a bind in your life situation. Even just being in his company when you wind down, any conversations with him will result a rich fruitful knowledge and enlightenment philosophy if you let him get carried away with his track of thoughts, though it's still relaxing to hear his voice at least.

There's almost no cons that could trascend past the pros of him overall. No matter the struggles and troubles that you meet, you feel like you can tackle anything and having your hopeful future figured out, laid down to you that the only left thing to do is to believe in it then follow with all the courage you gain from reaching up to this far. Probably since a certain someone has been watching out for you and taking care of you too well as if you're his own child. You may notice Welt is discreet yet quite selective in allowing few people into your life, leading you away from fated encounters with the ones he advised to not get yourself involved, sparing you off the hassle to face a risky battle, and many others that you feel like he's shaping your life sometimes. But it's not like he's all that controlling or restricting, so it should be only wise to just trust him and leaving some responsibilities for him to take on, right? He's the experienced member who acts as if he's from the far off distant future that leaves momentous traces of his presence for you after all...

ᰔᩚ Pom-pom (The House Pet Owner)

- Guardian of the train with their own whole soul, with you as the passenger, they're all the more fussy about you with commands to take care of yourself and not neglect your health if you seem unwell (get ready for a more intensive checkup). At any signs that comes from something off even a slight dust speck or different scent on you will be brought up, interrogated, they need to make sure you're at your best most of the time! They couldn't have you feeling down as well or they would feel (even more depressed throughout the day) -as if they fail to fulfill their main purpose and duty, maybe there could also be something about the train that somehow bug you or dampen your mood...

So it's totally recommended if you depend on them; with some tasks in scope of their abilities (they will make sure to give their all and taking them very seriously), you can tell any nicely worded feedbacks or constructive criticism (if you even have the heart to reprimand them for it, shame on you) and hug them kindly for your needed soft texture of comfort dose (after much convincing, they are not to be treated as a stuffed animal!! but they're most indulgent on you without much consideration, they do appreciate and feel happy for being treated or praised this kindly). Pom-pom also wouldn't want you to tell the others (they still know though) that the conductor has always been giving more bonus rewards for you only.

[unhappy-last-resort]

The Unhappiest Masterlist

Fandoms and characters organized by alphabetical order, fics organized by newest to oldest.

Unless stated otherwise, all fics are yandere and have a GN Reader.

Genshin Impact

Albedo:

Cyno:

Heizou:

Lyney:

Wriothesely:

Miscellaneous

Sylus (Love and Deepspace):

Run Run Run - Chase scene

Frozen Over - Angst

OC's:

None yet

Morimens

Hameln:

My Song I Yearn For, My Conductor I Follow - smut, GN Reader

Uvhash:

Golem's Treasure - blood sucking

NIKKE: Goddess Of Victory

Andersen:

Rapi:

Path To Nowhere

Angell:

Cinnabar:

Langley:

Gun play drabble

Chief:

Eleven:

Fox:

Punishing: Gray Raven

21.:

Coming Soon

Asimov:

A New Breakthrough (drabble) - Metaphysical warts and boils

Alpha:

A Beast Unshackled - GN Fem-Bodied Reader, Implied kidnapping, SMUT

Ayla:

Bianca:

Camu:

Drabble - Non-con

Cradle:

Changyu:

Chrome:

Coming Soon

A Sinful Escapade - Noncon, somno, SMUT

Fevered Dreams - sick reader, manipulation, implied non-con somnophilia

Vampire Chrome drabble

Drabble

Gray Raven Commandant:

Hacima:

Hanying:

Hassen:

Kamui:

Weak - Sick Reader, falling out between friends (WILL BE DELETED AND REWRITTEN)

A Note Found In the Strike Hawk Lounge (drabble)

Lee:

Angst Lee Drabble - mourning your death

The Raven Who Watches - Stalking, "mutual" masturbation

Drabble - Stalking

Liv:

Lithos:

Lucia:

Lucia: Lotus - Angst

Luna:

Noan:

A passage found in Noan's sketchbook (drabble) - implied nsfw

Raindrops - Not Yandere, angst

There's Barnyard Grass Growing In Your Garden - yan shit

Qu:

Roland:

A Sinful Escapade - Noncon, somno, SMUT

A Puppet In A Bamboo Forest - Forced kissing, implied non consensual surgery, tracking

Counting Minutes - Delusional behavior, bombing threat

What Lovers Do - Non-con

Fevered Dreams - sick reader, manipulation, implied non-con somnophilia

Selena:

Simon:

He Smells of Tears and Want - SMUT

Delusions - SMUT

Vera:

Vonnegut:

Forgive Me, My God - blasphemy kink, misuse of religious objects

Wanshi:

Wanshi's Report Log (Drabble)

Watanabe:

Astral Desires - Implied past non-con (fingering), based off of that one creepy secret in his Astral frame

Zero:

Wuthering Waves

Scar:

Scar drabble - implied non con

Burning Cards and Burning Scars (drabble) - Implied past abuse, mentions of physical scars

Male Rover:

Fem Rover:

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere Rook x Reader x Yandere Malleus

I’m mostly joking…

I mean you can’t have two conductors in a lightning storm and not expect to get electrocuted

Rook is the ultimately obsessed stalker and Malleus is the possessive powerhouse

It really shouldn’t work at all 

But if all the dominoes are in place it just becomes a perfect storm

Malleus knows good and well that the hunter has an intense interest in you

He smells him around Ramshackle when you have no recollection of inviting the vice-warden

He senses his presence when you and he are alone

And when he gets more intimate with you he knows Rook’s watching

For some reason, it doesn’t bother him 

He gets a rush knowing he’s showing just how much he owns you

He thinks that’ll scare him off 

On top of that, he is quite a powerful fae so any sane human wouldn’t want to tussle with him

Right? 

“Roi du dragon! How are you monsieur!” 

What idiot lied and said Rook was sane?!

Well it's easy to say Rook isn’t quite like most humans

He's a really gutsy

its only natural for a hunter to be so

Malleus will come to learn this

As he's suddenly seeking the hunter out more often 

He finds poetry in the places he frequents

And arrows that shoot near him with long-winded letters about how wonderful you and he are together naked

He’s amused 

And enjoying Rook’s engaging behavior

“Oh? Would you like for me to delve into the differences between grotesques and gargoyles?”

“Oui oui.”

He bonds with Rook over you easily 

Both gushing in old English about how lovely you are 

Eventually, Malleus looks to Rook for guidance

As he is more in tune with other students right?

That's why he has so many friends targets right?

“If you truly wish to court (Y/n) you should join me in watching them sleep!”

“But they refused when I asked! How did you do that?”

“There's no need to ask, that way you don’t impede on their sound sleeping.”

“I see, thank you!” 

Even worse Malleus is naturally possessive and greedy

tis the instincts of a dragon

“Lilia…what if I’m fond of two humans? Can I still have them both?”

“Of course!! And hey since Rook’s a hunter, I’m sure he’d love a good hunt.”

“I agree. Thank you!”

He’ll do just that and suddenly Rook is on the run

Happily hunting one another until he buckles at the sheer will Malleus has

Waiting until he’s pinned underneath the horned Prince of Thorns and looking into the excited glowing emerald eyes that he concedes

Now all that’s left is you

And since you keep running from them both; maybe you want to be hunted too

[gofishygo]

the specimens !! (masterlist)

warnings, notes, and readers gender/prns can be found in the fic :3

𓇼: popular

JOHNATHAN PRICE:

DRABBLES:

CONDUCTOR! PRICE, CONCERTMASTER! READER

SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY:

HITHERTO; 639 wc

simon thought he'd never heal again. but years forward, there's you- and some scraggly stray cat you found.

YAN! GHOST HCS; 648 wc

general headcannons of what ghost would be like as a yandere.

DRABBLES:

HIS GARDEN, 𓇼BAKER READER

JOHNNY 'SOAP' MCTAVISH:

(no orders yet !!)

KYLE 'GAZ' GARRICK':

GAZ + WIFE! READER; 600wc

gaz and his oddly gentle wife, who's a bit of a ditz <3

THE SAME (ALWAYS CHANGING); GAZ x FTM READER

gaz is sweet, but is he transphobic ? that's a question you're too nervous to ask the answer to . fate decides to answer it , though .

OTHER:

DRABBLES:

CTHULU! KONIG x SHARK! READER DARK! KONIG X READER

TASKFORCE 141:

DRABBLES

𓇼141 AND WEAPONS MECHANIC READER ,𓇼141 AND 141! READER, GHOAP x NECROMANCER READER, 141 TRIES BOBA TEA

SERIES

PRIDE MONTH

one gay as FUCK fanfic for every week of the month!

DEER IN HEADLIGHTS; 141 x DEER HYBRID! READER

work in progress !! deer hybrid! reader, who'd lived most of their life nestled deep in the woods of the forest, using quick wit and sharp sense to evade every hunter. but these ones are faster. smarter. and unfortunately for you, you share the forest with a whole base of them.

masterpost here !!

💌 rq status : hiatus- requests will be done, just very slowly.