#yandere dragon age

[proffbon]

I've seen the posts going around citing the existence of Velabanchel to show that aksually putting Illario in prison is not just a different flavor of sparing him but I don't really buy it.

First of all, Lucanis doesn't strike me as vindictive or bloodthirsty enough to put his cousin (who he admits to sparing largely because he's all he's got left of his family) through horrific torture as opposed to killing him. You're telling me Mr Lucanis 'Family Man' Dellamorte would rather torture the man he still considers his brother than give him a quick death (something that's completely normal for him as an assassin, something he even expected Illario to do and thought that putting him, Lucanis, through torture was out of character)? Idk man

Plus in the post-Murder of Crows scene Lucanis says Illario knows too much to lose him, which might imply beating info out of him, but then again in the Blighted Treviso version of this scene Lucanis just says he doesn't need Illario running around causing trouble so he should 'sit and think' about his mistakes.

Like, I'm sorry, I just really can't buy the Velabanchel thing.

[yandere-sins]

Yandere!Lucanis who tries so hard not to let the "urges" get out of control. He's been fighting his inner demon so long, he thinks he got them perfectly wrapped up, even though he has to bury his nails in his palms until they draw blood just to be able to talk to you fairly normal.

Yandere!Spite who is absolutely not having it. Who the fuck is Lucanis to deprive Spite of being with you? Spite wants to talk to you, be seen by you, touch you—and he'll pull all the strings to get just that. Lucanis can't hold him back forever. Spite knows the way Lucanis holds himself back and if Spite just keeps chipping away at that resistance, he's sure he can get his way sooner rather than later.

In short, I am not that far yet with these two, but the thought had to come out after seeing Spite being a bit obsessed intrigued with Rook.

[lair-of-platonic-yanderes]

Hydro Sovereign's Child

Platonic! Yandere! Neuvillette x GN! Child! Furina! Reader

Description: Archons will do anything to protect their nations, including putting a burden in a child.

You might be immortal, but you are still a child. Child, who want to have a family.

Neuvillette doesn't know, what to think about you. Until he does.

And then one day, you were late for work.

Warning: OOC. English is my second language. Platonic Yandere. Focalor's actions can be seen as questionable. Reader need a hug. Spoilers for Fontaine Archon Quest. Reader were traumatized by Arlecchino. Aether is Traveler. Neuvillette isn't happy with Focalor and The Knave. Arlecchino's fate is gruesome.

A/N: It's a merge fic of two previously posted fics. The are few more sentences added, and an ending of the second fic now includes a rewritten scene with Neuvillette and Reader from the first fic.

_________

Her powers flow through Focalor's body. Hydro Archon looked at the distance, trying not to think too much about the current situation.

Separating divinity from body and spirit take a lot of time. And Focalor was left one on one with her thoughts during the separation.

Bit by bit, she separated everything, that even has a drop of divinity, from her body and soul. Her greatest creation. So perfectly human.

The process was almost over. Focalor could already see the outlines of the new "Hydro Archon". She only needed to separate the last bits of divinity.

And then her mind started to wander. Plan was risqué. If it fails, Fontaine will be doomed.

Another thought strike her, like a lightning. What if hydro dragon won't get enough powers from her divinity? Focalor's gaze feel on Oratrice Mecanique d'Analyse Cardinale, that now contained almost all of her divinity. Then her body fell on what essentially were her body and soul. The figure was the same height to Focalor.

Hydro Archon carefully reached with her powers to "Hydro Archon". Divinity was a tricky thing. It was everywhere in Archon's body. Perhaps, she should separate some more bits of her. That didn't have pure divinity, but have echoes of it?

Bit. After bit. After bit.

More powers were stored in Oratrice Mecanique d'Analyse Cardinale. Focalor's nodded slowly. It would be enough. Now she only needed to wake the new "Hydro Archon".

Focalor looked at them.

They became smaller. Much younger.

Child. "Hydro Archon" became a child.

Focalor chewed her lips. She could reverse separation and try again. And make sure, that this time her double will be older.

Her gaze fall on Oratrice Mecanique d'Analyse Cardinale again. All her powers were there. The chance for Fontaine's salvation.

On one hand, the bigger chance for salvation of her nation.

On the other hand, child, that won't be forced to live centuries under curse, with no chance of normal life.

Ever since she became an Archon, Focalor wasn't seen by her people. They won't question, why new archon are so young.

Oceanids left Fontaine. They won't reveal, that Archon aren't her.

The child will contain a good chunk of her non-plan related memories. They won't act according to their age. Their behavior won't be questioned.

Maybe, hydro dragon would find kid adorable. And it will help in her plan's succeed.

Fontaine. Or a child.

With tears in her eyes, Focalor finished the separation. Remains of her divinity flew into Oratrice Mecanique d'Analyse Cardinale. Before fading, she whispered.

"I am sorry, [Y/N]. I hope, that one day, you could forgive me."

_________

Sometimes, you saw a woman in your dreams. She had tears in her eyes. She would apologize to you over and over again.

At first, you thought, that she was your mother. Your mother, that entrust Very Important Mission on you.

You quickly realized, that she wasn't your mom.

You were just a shred of true Hydro Archon. And she had a Very Important Mission for you.

You are a kid and you have a mission

You are a kid and you don't have a mom.

______

Neuvillette hasn't seen Hydro Archon before. He heard about them.

Loud, boisterous, attention seeker (with term 'spoiled brat' whispered in the dark alleys).

Today, he would see them for the first time.

When he was called in the room, where Hydro Usurper would meet with him, Neuvillette braced himself, before entering.

At first, he thought, that room was empty. He couldn't see Hydro Archon anywhere. Then his gaze fall on the child, that were sitting on the couch before a small table, full of treats. He could feel it. Child have traces of divinity.

'That child are Hydro Archon?'

Meanwhile, child struck a little pose.

"Are you speechless, Monsieur Neuvillette? I can't blame you. You are in the presence of The brightest Star of Fontaine!"

Neuvillette's eyes widen.

'Why Hydro Usurper were so young?'

Meanwhile, child waved their hand.

"I know, that you would gladly spend hours admiring me, but, you will have enough time for that! Should we discuss your new job as Chief Justice, Monsieur Neuvillette?"

Neuvillette slowly nodded.

"We should..."

________

Your room in Palais Mermonia was a dream come true for any children. Tons of toys, children books, big bad you can jump on. You need something else? You could always ask for it, and it will be delivered to your doorstep.

Everyone loves the Biggest Celebrity of Fontaine. Child Archon deserve only best things.

Among all of your toys, you only loved three.

Three plush animals.

During the first hundred years of your performance, you played pirates, adventures and theater with them.

During the second century of your performance, you played school with them.

During the third century of your performance, you played explorers with them.

During the fourth century of your performance, you read books to them.

During the fifth century of your performance, you cried yourself to sleep, while hugging your favorite three toys.

__________

Neuvillette was in his office. He had some time to take a quick break.

He was holding his glass, full of water from The Fountain of Lucine. Some melusines decided to bring his a bottle of Fountain's water. Surprisingly, they also saw Hydro Archon with their hands in the Fountain. They quickly left, when they saw melusines near.

Neuvillette was thinking.

By all means, Neuvillette shouldn't like Hydro Archon.

[Y/N] have his elemental authority.

[Y/N] were loud, boisterous and snotty.

[Y/N], while not being The First, still were one of the Seven Usurper.

But Neuvillette can't bring himself to hate the kid, or be angry at them.

They were just a kid. There were no reason to waste his anger on them. Neuvillette won't be surprised, if Hydro Archon won't fight, if Neuvillette decides to challenge them for hydro authority.

Neuvillette took the first sip.

He was flooded with emotions.

Emotions of a very lonely and sad child. Neuvillette froze. It never happened before. [Y/N]... Were it you? Were it your emotions?

Neuvillette drank the rest of the glass.

Then the remaining water from the bottle.

He returned to his work. But young hydro archon were still on his mind.

__________

You were attending an opera performance in Opera Epiclese. Neuvillette refused the invitation, pretending, that he had some important work to do.

It was the truth. But, his work wasn't connected to the court.

Neuvillette closed the door in your room behind him. Neuvillette wasn't supposed to be here, in your room. But he wanted to see, with his own eyes, how you lived. And why you were so sad.

The room was big, full of everything, that a child could ever want or need.

Yet, everything looked too new. Too clean. Like you weren't using anything in your room.

Except for three well-worn plush toys (Ball Octopus, Bubbly Seahorse and Armored Crab) on your bed. The traces of countless repairs clearly visible on the stuffed animals.

Neuvillette looked at your bookshelves. There was a common theme in all of your books. In them, at the end, main characters will get a family. A loving parents or older siblings.

'Lonely Archon. Lonely child...'

Dragons looked after their young. In some cases, they looked after each other dragonets.

Hydro Dragon has never looked after young dragonets. But, he also hasn't lived among humans.

Neuvillette has lived among humans for five hundred years now.

Maybe, it was time to took in a child.

___________

The cat you met on the street was fluffy and playful. You can't help, but smile. Animals were good. Animals were great.

But, you can't focus entirely on the cat. One thought was bothering you.

Something strange was happening with Neuvillette. It looked like, he was looking after you? He sent warm meals to you through melusines, ordered guards to bring more blankets to your room, shut down annoying reporters... He even put a scarf around your neck that day, when temperature in Opera Epiclese were colder, than usual.

If you were honest, he always scared you a little. You don't want to think, what he will do with you, when your performance will be over. He looked distant and hard to approach.

So why he was so worried about you? Your loud attitude didn't change, so, why Neuvillette suddenly decided to take care of you?

The cat's loud meow interrupted your thoughts. It hissed and dashed away from you. You reach your hand towards it.

"Wait! Can we play some more?!"

Then a shadow fall on you.

__________

Neuvillette was equally worried and annoyed.

[Y/N] were late. They were never late before. They, despite being loud, dramatic and childish (for a five hundred-year-old archon), were responsible and punctual.

So, either something happened, that kept them late, or they overslept.

Neuvillette tapped out a simple rhythm on the tabletop with his fingers. In terms of inner and outer politics, legal proceedings and all other "Running the nation" business, he did most of the job, but [Y/N] still remain the most important figure and their participation was necessary.

Making a decision, he raised up from his chair and left the office.

A few minutes later, he climbed the stairs to the top floor of Palais Mermonia and stood at the door of their room.

Ceasth and Enghien¹, two melusines, that were guarding the door (recently, Neuvillette find it impossible, if not outright preposterous, to let humans guard [Y/N]'s room or kid themselves. Hydro Sovereign's child should be protected by a dragon, vishap or new sort of Hydro vishap), didn't notice him at first. They were whispering to each other, looking distressed. They didn't even realize, that Neuvillette was here, until he cleared his throat.

Melusines' ears perked up, they turned their heads in unison towards Neuvillette. Ceasth's tail nervously twitched.

"Monsieur Neuvillette! Good morning! Just in time, we were ready to go into your office."

Neuvillette frowned slightly.

"Did something happened with [Y/N]? Why they are late?"

Neuvillette tried not to roll his eyes, when both melusines looked appalled by how he addressed the archon.

Recently, Neuvillette not only stopped trusting people with protecting his kid. He couldn't bring himself to think about [Y/N] as an archon. It leads to some awkward moments, when he called [Y/N] by their name and without any title (both official and non-official) in someone else's company. He still remembered Clorinde's pale face, when she heard Neuvillette blatant disrespect. Even melusines, who, admittedly, weren't big fans of Hydro Archon, looked disturbed. A few times his tongue slipped, and he called [Y/N] by their name, when they worked together. Kid either choose to let it slide, or didn't pay too much attention to Neuvillette's words.

But right now, he has no time to deal with cultural shock. He leaned forward, looked straight at melusines. He repeated, slowly and clearly.

"Did something happened with [Y/N]?"

Enghien licked her lips, rubbing her hands.

"Yesterday they came back late. And they were... in distress. They didn't eat, and just stayed in their room. I don't know if they managed to sleep."

Ceasth didn't wait for Neuvillette to ask the next question.

"They were crying. There were some noise, coming from the room. Like Lord² [Y/N] were moving something. There also were sounds of something hitting the glass and talking. I couldn't make out the words, but the tone was... desperate... And now... Better, if you see it on your own, Monsieur Neuvillette."

Neuvillette's blood felt, like it froze. Crying, someone made [Y/N] cry...

Ceasth, obvious to Neuvillette's emotions, turned around, knocking on the door. She raised her voice, so [Y/N] would hear her.

"Lord [Y/N]! Please..."

The loud cry interrupted her.

"Go a-away! I-I w-won't g-go out!"

The voice ended up in sobbing. Neuvillette fight the urge to knock down the door.

His kid, his dragonet were in distress. His kid, his dragonet need their father!

Neuvillette spoke slowly, keeping his emotions in check.

"Caeth, Enghiene, please, leave us. I will deal with the situation."

Melusines looked at each other, but turned away from the door without questions. Waiting until the couple disappeared around the corner, Neuvillette knocked on the door.

Immediately, the voice followed.

"I s-said, go a-away! I will s-stay h-here!"

Neuvillette's voice was soft.

"[Y/N], I promise, I won't make you leave your room. But, please, let me come in. I want to make sure, that you are okay."

[Y/N] didn't answer. Neuvillette waited for a few seconds, before putting a hand on the handle.

"[Y/N], I am coming in."

Still no answer. Neuvillette pressed the door handle. Thankfully, it wasn't locked.

The room didn't change much since his last visit. It was a kid's dream come true, with everything being too new.

But the once tidy room were a mess.

All toys, blankets, pillows and chairs were gathered in a heap in the corner of the room.

From the depths of the makeshift shelter, a pair of frightened eyes, reddened from tears, looked at Neuvillette.

________

Sometimes, you wished, that your mom Focalors didn't give you a mission.

You wanted a family and wanted to have friends.

Despite everything, you were just a kid.

You tried, you really tried to do your best. To be a good actor.

Crying yourself to sleep was enough for you to keep your emotions in check. Until yesterday.

A Scary Monster attacked you. Scary Monster tried to kill you.

You don't remember, how you managed to escape and got to your room.

Only in your room you get a small break.

You cried. You were scared and terrified. Scared of Monster, that almost killed you.

Whatever you look, you saw Monster.

You didn't feel safe. You made a shelter from everything you could move into the corner. In a small breaks, you were hitting the mirror in your room, where four centuries ago you saw her. And you begged.

"M-mom! P-please, I am scared! P-please, mom, I-I don't want to be an archon a-anymore. I don't like that game! P-please, m-mom, I... I want a hug! Mom, there is a scary Monster in Fontaine! It almost killed me! M-mom..."

She didn't come. She didn't appear in your room, or in the mirror. She didn't say, that she won't let anyone hurt you, that you will be okay.

You were alone. You were alone for the last four centuries.

You didn't sleep that night. And couldn't bring yourself to leave your room.

You tried to force yourself to leave the room. You tried to tell yourself, that you have an important task.

You didn't listen.

There was a Monster outside.

And it was searching for you

______

Neuvillette's heart aches, seeing his kid so scared and vulnerable. He carefully approached the shelter, and big tearful eyes watched his every step.

Neuvillette stopped before the shelter, sitting on the floor, making himself look smaller, more approachable. He slowly extended both hands towards the frightened child. They whimpered, curling into a ball. Neuvillette could see [Y/N] hugging a familiar plush Ball Octopus. Bubbly Seahorse and Armored Crab were also here, flanking the scared child.

"P-please, leave me alone." [Y/N] trembled, not looking at Neuvillette. "I will work from here today."

Neuvillette's frown deepen. There should be something he can do to make the kid calm down.

Neuvillette looked around. His gaze stopped on a familiar bookshelf, full of books about kids having families and getting ones.

A foggy memory surfaced on his mind.

A century ago, there was a relatively popular children's play in Mondstadt. A musical about a family having a happy life and going on adventures together.

There was a short Teyvat tour. In Fontaine, they were performing in Opera Epiclese.

[Y/N] watched all performances they had. Moreover, some melusines whispered about seeing Hydro Archon sneaking around the place, where acting troupe were practicing.

Neuvillette wasn't interested in children's plays. He barely remembered the tunes. But his kid needed it.

He started humming. One of the songs from the play, which mother sang to her children.

He didn't remember much. But now, repeating the melody over and over, he started to remember the tune.

[Y/N] stopped shaking. They were silently watching Neuvillette, tears running down kid's cheeks.

Neuvillette, still humming, extended his arms towards [Y/N] again.

This time they moved. With all of their three favorite plushies, they crawled towards Neuvillette. They left the shelter, letting Neuvillette see the unkempt appearance of normally tidy child.

Without letting their toys go, [Y/N] reached towards Neuvillette.

Still humming the lullaby, he hugged them, and slowly stand up, trying not to drop them and their toys.

He was holding them with one hand, while slowly petting their head with the other.

He put his chin on top of kid's head. Their hair was unkept, but fluffy.

[Y/N] were sobbing.

Neuvillette didn't speak, preferring to hum the melody. He managed to recall not only the whole motive, but, even some verses.

His voice never sounded so warm before.

"...My, beloved child please stay here, in my arms. While, you're still small and fragile I, will keep you safe from harm.."³

[Y/N] stopped sobbing. Now they were sitting here, with their face hidden in Neuvillette's chest.

Neuvillette didn't speak. He sang the song a few more times, before asking.

"Little one, tell me, who made you so upset? Your dad will punish them. Your dad will make sure, that no one will hurt you."

A pair of [e/c] eyed stared at Neuvillette.

______

You are supposed to be an archon.

A loud, boisterous god.

Lord of All Waters, Kindreds, Peoples, and Laws. God of justice.

But you weren't them. They are her titles.

Titles, that you supposed to pretend to have.

You are supposed to be strong. You should yell at Neuvillette. You should chew him out for braking the subordination.

You were a God of Fontaine.

You were a liar, who would probably be kicked out on the streets the morning moment the lie is discovered.

And who would probably still be kicked out, when That Trial is over.

You didn't want to think about it. You wanted to think, that after the prophecy is averted, and you will be free to live your own life, they will appear.

Your family.

Your dad, who will protect you, and who will take you on travels.

Your mom, who will give you warm hugs and sing you lullabies.

You will live in a small cozy cottage. You will attend school, play with friends, get good grades.

And your family will love you.

But, what if it was just a lie? What if no one will be here? What if you will be alone. Forever.

You should yell at Neuvillette, who sang you a lullaby. You should chew him out for wanting to be your dad.

You didn't want to do it. You will let his disrespectful attitude slide. Just for a bit.

You are just a kid, right? Y-you...

You wanted to have a family just for a bit. A protective father.

"Monster... I was attacked by a monster...⁴ I just wanted to play with a cat... I didn't do anything wrong! And then monster..."

You were still crying. Neuvillette tighten his hug. He fought the urge to growl. He didn't want to scare you.

He caught his reflection in the window's glass.

His eyes became even more dragon-like. Slits of pupils became even thinner, irises became dark-purple, and scleras became light-purple.

He didn't growl, but he did bare his teeth. His canines became sharp, too sharp to be human teeth. Dragon's fangs. Neuvillette wondered if they were sharp enough to tear apart the monster.

Not now. He should make sure, that his dragonet are safe.

_____

"Don't be mistaken, Monsieur Neuvillette, I do respect you. Her Royal Highness the Tsaritsa view you as an embodiment of Fontaine's Laws and Justice. However, I can't help, but wondering, what keeps Lord [Y/N] so busy? They have been missing official diplomatic meetings. Is Fontaine trying to send a message? Maybe, Snezhnaya became too insignificant in eyes of Hydro Archon. So insignificant, that Hydro Archon didn't care about meeting with a diplomat in person."

Arlecchino looked at him above the teacup. Neuvillette's face was emotionless. He waited for her to take a sip.

"Mademoiselle Arlecchino, don't you think, that you are crossing the line? Or did Cryo Archon make the most rude and mindless donkeys Snezhnayan diplomats?"

Arlecchino coughed, choking on a tea. Neuvillette's face still was emotionless, but he was delighted. Because, if she was the monster, who attacked his dragonet, she deserved nothing, but pain.

"Lord [Y/N] decided to spend all their time on solving the prophecy. The fate of a nation is more important, than a little dispute over Snezhnayan harbinger."

Arlecchino finally caught her breath.

"It's... not a little dispute. Childe was arrested for some unknown reasons, Fontaine didn't do anything to investigate his case, and you are refusing to let us investigate. One would think, that Fontaine want to cut ties with Snezhnaya."

Neuvillette looked through the window. His thoughts were far away. He was thinking about a home, far away from the capital. About small pound at the front yard with otters. About cozy rooms. And about his little dragonet. What were you doing right now? Were you reading? Were you playing? He hopped, that you weren't crying or trembling with fear. Because you were afraid, that monster will attack you again.

Three days ago he got you away from Palais Mermonia. He took you in his own house. It was secure, no one knew where it was. He promised, that you will be safe there. There was everything you will ever need. Cozy room, toys, books. Friendly otters, tasty food.

A good place to raise a dragonet.

And while dragonet are safe in their nest, Dragon Dad will hunt.

He didn't care, that you don't know who exactly attacked you. He would find out.

"Fortress of Meropide isn't under Fontaine's jurisdiction. Lord [Y/N] and I can't order Duke Wriothesley to release your colleague. Either spoke with Duke directly, or wait for Marechaussee Phantom to investigate his case. And stop lecturing me on how to run a nation."

He looked directly in Arlecchino's eyes.

"Now, I believe, that we have nothing else to discuss."

Harbinger stayed silent. With a nod, she stood up.

"We will continue our discussion later, Monsieur Neuvillette."

When she left, Neuvillette whispered.

"We will, if you are the one, who hurt my dragonet."

------

Neuvillette didn't really want to help Arlecchino or Childe. But he did ask Traveler and Paimon to get to Fortress of Meropide just to get make that annoying harbinger to shut up.

It took them a few days to learn about Childe's disappearance. However, they only decided to give a full report to Neuvillette after their month-long sentence was over. Neuvillette wasn't paying attention to their report. He was checking the list of names he made.

All Fontainians, all melusines, all tourists and diplomats. Everyone could have been the one, who attacked [Y/N] a month ago. Some names were crossed. He checked their alibis, and they were innocent. He still has a lot of names in his list.

"Oh, Monsieur Neuvillette, [Y/N] were always an Archon, right?" Paimon's question caught Neuvillette's attention. He looked at flying fairy, raising an eyebrow. Paimon was obvious to Neuvillette's confusion, and to Aether's 'Paimon, no' whispers.

"Of course they always were. What a strange question."

Neuvillette return to his list. Paimon, still obvious to Aether's whispers, explained.

"The Knave told us, that [Y/N] might be a liar. They don't have a gnosis."

Neuvillette dropped his pen. He slowly looked at Paimon again. Fairy start explaining, while Aether just rubbed his forehead in defeat.

"What?" His mouth was dry. He could barely utter that one word.

"Well, you see... One month ago she tried to get the Hydro Gnosis..."

One month ago... When [Y/N]...

"...She waited, when [Y/N] were alone..."

His child, after another nightmare filled night was crying, while he was hugging them...

His eyes became more draconic...

"...they didn't fight, only begged to be spared..."

They again barricaded all windows in the house. Afraid, that one day monster will return...

Fangs broke the skin of his lips, filling his mouth with metallic taste of blood...

"...there were no gnosis, but they survived..."

They were spooked by a snapped twig, thinking, that monster was coming...

Sharp claws shredded the useless list...

"... perhaps, they just cursed. Maybe, if we face Lord [Y/N] in court..."

JUDGE [Y/N]? HIS LITTLE DRAGONET? HYDRO SOVEREIGN'S CHILD? WHAT THESE PESTS THINK THEY ARE?!

"OUT!!!"

Neuvillette's roar shook Palais Mermonia, and terrified Aether and Paimon ran away.

Neuvillette, now more of a beast, than a human, sank his claws in the table.

Arlecchino. She was his target after all.

The hunt was on.

-----

Next few days Neuvillette couldn't look for Arlecchino. Poisson was flooded with Primordial Sea waters. People start demanding to see [Y/N], who still were staying in his home.

During days Neuvillette was dealing with aftermath if the flood.

At nights, he was taking care of [Y/N]. Their nightmares finally became less frequent. They even started to play outside more often.

There was a trial scheduled for today. Surprisingly, details of the trial were hidden from him.

For some reason, instead of a trial, Lyney and Lynette were performing. Neuvillette was ready to leave, when twins performed their last trick.

On a stage three people appeared.

Traveler, Paimon and utterly terrified you.

-----

You were just taking a small walk. You wanted to pick up some flowers to make a flower crown for Neuvillette.

The last month were scary, but you have never been happier before. You felt like a normal child who have the greatest dad in the world.

Somehow, you were found by people of Fontaine. They were shouting. Demanding answers from you.

You ran. Traveler found you and take you to a safe place.

In some cruel twist of fate, he got you into the court.

Aether's voice wasn't loud, but for you, it sounded like yelling.

"Your honor, I would like to charge Lord [Y/N] as a fraud who's never been the Archon in the first place."

You were trying to keep yourself together. You can't let them see your fear.

Neuvillette could barely contain his anger.

"I won't tolerate baseless accusations in the Court. There will be no trial today."

"But, Monsieur Neuvillette, by Fontaine laws..."

She still was talking, but neither you nor Neuvillette heard her.

Arlecchino was standing on the stage.

You start to back away, until your back was pressed directly to Oratrice Mecanique d'Analyse Cardinale.

You recognize her.

Monster finally found you.

You felt alone. Monster was here. Fontaine hated you. You wanted to return to Neuvillette's home. To you home.

You heard familiar whisper. As usual, it was coming from the Oratrice Mecanique d'Analyse Cardinale.

'You can do it, [Y/N]!'

No. You can't do it. You hated doing it. You hated Focalor for putting you through centuries of torture. You hated people of Teyvat, who didn't want to see a kind, open archon, who demanded to see a loud, spoiled Star of Fontaine. You hated Arlecchino. You lost your sleep because of her. You lived in fear because of her.

You had no friends. You had no family.

Neuvillette was the only one, who cared. He was the only one, who saw real you.

You found your voice. You scream.

Neuvillette's blood boiled. She was here. She was scaring his child.

He didn't hear voices in the court room. He didn't hear her voice.

But there was one thing he heard.

"D-dad!" his child called, and Neuvillette moved.

Neither him nor you noticed, how Indemnitium in Oratrice Mecanique d'Analyse Cardinale start going wild.

-------

Heavy body crushed into Arlecchino. Neuvillette's boot immediately pressed her head was against the stage.

"I will inlaid your broken body on Hydro Archon's statue!"

Neuvillette didn't care about screams of audience. He didn't care about narwhal, that was ready to consume everyone in sight.

He only cared about killing the harbinger.

Suddenly, the room felt with light. Noises were gone.

Narwhal was gone.

Arlecchino was gone.

[Y/N] were gone.

Only her.... Hydro Usurper was here.

Hydro Sovereign and Hydro Archon looked at each other.

----

Neuvillette listened to her explanation of her plan. When she finished, he spoke. His lips barely moved.

"You made them cry."

Focalor hide her gaze. She looked guilty.

"I know. And I am sorry for that. I wanted to save Fontaine. If there was another way..."

Sharp talons pierced Focalor's shoulders. Neuvillette growled, showing his sharp fangs.

"You made my kid suffer, Focalor! Knew, that today you aren't being judged for your predecessor's sins. Today, you are being judged for your own sins. For every single one of [Y/N]'s tears."

Neuvillette shoved her away. He was watching her, like a hawk.

"They called for you. They called you 'mother'." Neuvillette didn't blink.

"I... am not their mother..." Focalor's voice was weak. There was no use in saying anything. She could see it.

Her decision in taking away more powers, in making child a false archon, lead to this. At first, she thought, that hydro dragon might find [Y/N] adorable, and it will save Fontaine.

He did find [Y/N] adorable.

But, it looks like Fontaine's fate won't be as good as she hoped it would be.

Oratrice Mecanique d'Analyse Cardinale fell on her.

Hydro Sovereign's authority was restored.

-----

You stand before The Fountain of Lucine.

Primordial Sea waters left streets of Fontaine.

Instead, they became walls, that were separating Fontaine from the rest of Teyvat.

People of Fontaine, lost, confused, were leaving the Opera Epiclese.

It wasn't the end.

You were alone. You felt lost.

What should you do now? Where should you go?

Suddenly, you were picked up. Iudex of Fontaine was cradling you. He had a smile, you never saw on his face before.

"There you are, small dragonet! I am so glad, you didn't get lost. Let's go home, my sweet. I believe, I have to make up for a five hundred years of childhood and family love. I will take a good care of you, I promise! I will teach you about using Hydro powers, you will have everything you need, you will never cry again."

He started walking, while still carrying you. You closed and opened your mouth.

"I don't have a vision... And I won't live that long."

Neuvillette hummed. Something heavy landed in your stomach.

A hydro gnosis.

" I will share my hydro authority with you, my little dragonet. Oh, and don't worry, [Y/N]. Everything will be fine from now on. You will never see people, that want to hurt you. Now you can enjoy your life to the fullest."

Gnosis glow. It succumbed into your chest. You felt powers running through you.

You felt, that something drastic will happen in Fontaine.

And you didn't care.

------

You were back home. Some melusines were keeping your company, while you were playing outside.

Everywhere you look, you saw walls of water, that still were separating Fontaine from the rest of Teyvat.

Neuvillette left, saying, that he must deal with the monster.

------

Hydro Sovereign powers over the Primordial Sea were exceptional. He could easily give people of Fontaine a temporary forgives for their sins, or could easily create walls, made of Primordial Sea waters.

He could also easily make that walls a normal water again. And take away the forgiveness.

"Bring me the harbinger, if you don't want to dissolve in waters of the Primordial Sea."

She was here. Standing before him.

For the first time in ages, he was in his full dragon form. His talons grabbed her.

Hydro dragon spoke, and his voice made the earth quake.

"You are guilty. Pay for your crimes with your blood."

He was a dragon, but his horns weren't that sharp. In the water teeth and claws were much more useful for hunting.

To impale someone with his horns will be a torture. For an impaled.

And Neuvillette would love every second of it.

------

Natlan was a nation of dragons.

Place, where humans and saurians live together.

Fontaine became a nation of a dragon and his dragonet.

Neuvillette, Hydro Sovereign, ruled over the nation. He was a judge and an executor.

But you were the one who were sitting on the throne.

A child, who were adored by Hydro Dragon. Child, for whom Neuvillette will flood Teyvat.

Perhaps, you were supposed to do something about it. To tell Neuvillette, that he is wrong.

But you won't do it.

Not when he was taking care of you, when he was making sure that you are happy.

You always wanted to have a family. And, at that point of your life, you didn't care, if Fontaine's freedom was the price for your happiness.

---

¹ Quest-exqlusive melusines from canon. Ceasth is from Sigewinne's story quest, Enghiene is from "Lil' Fungi's Fun-Tastic Fiesta" and "Dance of Resolute Will" events.

²Headcannon time! It seems, "Lord" title for Archons are gender-neutral. We have Lord Barbatos, who, despite having an androgynous statue, is a male for in-universe people (see 'Sub-Space Boulder: Verdant Peak' description), and Greater Lord Rukkhadevata with Lesser Lord Kusanali, two females. I didn't want to use canonical Regina, because it is a female title.

³https://youtu.be/7bXnWKxdry8?si=UujvicBmoMmicdRU

⁴ Headcannon time. It seems, that at first Furina didn't recognize, who attacked her until she met Arlecchino later during official meeting.

[yanderes-galore]

DaI(Dragon Age) Yandere Hawke Concept?

Sure! I decided to take a general look on Hawke since I am new to Dragon Age and primarily know him from 2. Also, Hawke is depicted as a Male Mage in this. I hope you like this regardless :) Considering how I think you can choose his personality in Inquisition... not much may change between the games for him yandere-wise (I'm guessing, still very new, I know most of this information through YT and Wiki)

If anyone wants Female Hawke in the future or Warrior/Rogue Hawke... I'm down, lol.

Yandere! (Mage) Garrett Hawke Concept

(Male Mage Hawke)

Pairing: Platonic -> Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Overprotective behavior, Jealousy, Possessive behavior, Paranoia, Implied Hawke's being influenced by either Red Lyrium or Demons (It's vague), Violence, Attempted murder, Threats, Forced companionship/relationship.

Hawke is an interesting character because of how his personality changes.

He was originally a player controlled protagonist, often allowing the player to choose his personality through dialogue.

He can be diplomatic/helpful, humorous/charming, or aggressive/direct.

I feel the way I would write him would be a combination of these three rather than just one.

He tries to be diplomatic and helpful when he can, he's charming and humorous towards those he cares for, and can be direct/aggressive towards those who defy or challenge him.

I imagine Hawke would meet you and allow you to help him like a companion.

For example, maybe you meet him before he's well-known and it still a refugee in Kirkwall.

He meets you and Varric and you two become close parts of his journey.

Later on... perhaps Hawke feels romantic attraction towards you, or just decides to stay a close friend with you.

I feel naturally Hawke is helpful and protective.

As the events of Dragon Age 2 continue, he grows closer to you throughout the years.

After all... you were willing to help him when you first met.

Now you two are working together.

In this case I feel Hawke can be dangerous to be around at times if his obsession takes over his thinking.

Especially in this concept where he's a mage.

Mages, if left uncontrolled, can be dangerous due to demonic possession.

There's a few cases of this in the events of Dragon Age as a whole.

Red Lyrium no doubt doesn't help this either.

So already that's two ways you could interpret as the cause of Hawke's obsession towards you.

Demonic forces or Red Lyrium corruption... that or another explanation.

Before any sign of obsession shows, you can tell Hawke has a way with words.

He's diplomatic with others, often being charming with his words to convince others to believe him.

He's helpful and friendly towards you and other companions, always having a smile on his face around you as he speaks.

But what is really affected by his obsession is his more aggressive and direct demeanor.

If anyone was hostile with you or tried to attack you, Hawke is ruthless.

You can tell at times he's fighting the urge to use violence, trying to focus on talking down the aggressor instead of blasting them away.

Honestly, Hawke's increased aggression may be the first red flag to you about his obsession.

Normally he can talk his way out of a situation.

But even at the slightest argument he's gripping his staff tightly.

His obsession gives off the impression that he may be under the influence of something.

You try to talk to Hawke about it, but he plays it off as him being fine.

Almost right after complimenting and being playful with you.

You can tell something is wrong.

His obsession starts in Dragon Age 2 and most likely continues during Dragon Age Inquisition.

There's times you have to talk to Hawke to prevent him from using spells on those he hates around you.

You try to convince him mages already have enough to worry about, he doesn't need to tarnish them any further.

Hawke, for the most part, listens to you.

You calm his more violent decisions due to his desire towards you.

That desire may be friendship... but it's more likely to be romantic as time goes on.

Perhaps this new behavior of his stems from his first contact with Red Lyrium all those years ago?

Either way... his obsession and corruption grows as he's around you.

Soon you begin to see Hawke's obsession becomes more than friendship.

The gaze he gives you is nothing friendly... it's full of desire.

His other companions, like Varric, express concern towards Hawke and you.

Hawke eventually feels he can't wait.

He gives you gifts, he tries to build a positive reputation with you...

All eventually so he can kiss and love you.

You can tell none of this is normal.

You miss when Hawke was playful and friendly.

Now towards others he's colder... but overwhelming towards you.

His hands never leave you, you can feel how possessive he is.

It's like this isn't him.

He feels like something completely different.

Such feelings only continue as he falls deeper into obsession.

Soon if you try to argue with him he turns more direct with you.

Eventually even whispering subtle threats in your ears, eyes giving off a slight red glow as he tells you to stay with him.

Soon the mage may just slap some restraints on you... or use magic to trap you in a prison of his design...

You'll be his... now and forever... no one will come between you now.

[a-mint-bear]

Comfort Object hit 1000+ notes while i was sleeping last night

that's wild, im still reeling from how much people like it, and it's only been a few days since i posted it

[luv-lock]

ㅤֹㅤ⊹ㅤ #ㅤMY BEASTㅤ.ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☆⁠ PAIRING : Cullen Rutherford x Fem Reader Part 1

☆⁠ HEADCANON : How would he be when he's obsessed?

☆⁠ NOTES : English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

It started with your hands.

Soft—always soft. Not just the touch, but the way they lingered, like petals against his armor, a whisper against the wool of his collar. It was innocent, barely noticeable, never more than a brush when passing parchment or adjusting the edge of his cloak—but Maker, he noticed. He always noticed.

At first, he thought it was charity. Some women, especially mages, liked to test him. See if he’d flinch. If the Templar had softened. If the Lyrium shakes still haunted his spine.

But you didn’t taunt him.

You tended to him.

You walked into his war room like you didn’t belong, like you knew it. Your eyes—dull, strangely dull—watched him like he was something small. Not fragile, but… worthy of softness. Your voice was low and sweet, not sultry, not seductive, but safe. The kind of voice that called men to kneel and didn’t need to ask. The kind of voice a war dog would follow into battle. The kind of voice he never expected to hear directed at him.

He remembered the first time you touched his hand. He’d spilled ink on a requisition form—stupid mistake, his hands still trembling from the night before. You didn’t point it out. Didn’t flinch. Just reached for his fingers with that slow, patient grace of yours and dabbed the ink away with the edge of your sleeve.

“You’re shaking, Commander,” you’d said, your fingers cool and quiet against his skin.

He nearly choked on his breath. “I’m fine.”

You smiled. Too sharp. But your hands were still soft.

You never asked for much. Never lingered too long. You were clever—he could tell. But you wore kindness like armor, weaponized it. The others didn’t see it. Cassandra trusted you. Leliana smiled at you, rare and fond. Even Josephine adored you, called you dear. Cullen wasn’t fooled. Not exactly. But he couldn’t bring himself to doubt you either.

You made him tea once. Said it was for his headaches. You’d ground the herbs yourself. Sat with him on the battlements while the sun rose behind Haven, and told him about nothing in particular. A bird you’d seen. A child’s laughter. The way snow looked when it caught in the lashes of a stag.

He didn’t remember what he’d said. But he remembered the way your fingers brushed his brow to check for fever. The way you clucked your tongue, like a mother hen over her wounded knight.

“You need to rest, Cullen. You’re no use to anyone half-dead.”

“I am resting,” he’d muttered, and you’d laughed. Quiet and cruelly sweet.

“That’s not resting. That’s sulking.”

You treated him like he was precious. And that’s what frightened him most.

He wasn’t precious. He was broken. Shattered into too many pieces to count, stitched back together by duty and shame. But you never looked at him like that. Never winced when he faltered on the stairs. Never looked away when he woke shaking, nails bloodied from clawing his own palms.

Instead, you offered him lavender water for his hands. A towel. A touch.

You were always so calm. So gentle. So patient. It scared him. He wasn’t used to being seen, not like that. Not without judgment. Not without weight.

You called him Cullen. Not Commander. Not Templar. Just Cullen. Like he was just a man.

And Maker help him, he trusted you.

Not blindly. Not entirely. But enough to let you see him raw. Enough to accept your tea, your herbs, your too-long stares. Enough to wonder what your hand might feel like resting over his chest instead of his brow. Enough to think of you when the shakes came at night—and wish, foolishly, you were there to steady him.

He wasn’t in love with you.

But when you smiled at him—too sharp, too knowing—he felt a warmth in his chest that terrified him.

Still, he never pulled away.

And you never stopped touching him.

He thought he was hiding it.

The bottle was small. The ritual quick. The pain immediate—but the relief was swifter. For a few hours, the weight of command didn't sit like a stone in his lungs. His bones didn’t ache like brittle glass. The dreams didn’t claw through his sleep like wolves.

So he told himself it was necessary. Just for now. Just until Haven was secure. Just until Skyhold was rebuilt. Just until things stopped spinning.

But then you looked at him.

Really looked.

It wasn’t during a battle, not when his nerves were frayed and his voice hoarse from shouting orders. It wasn’t after one of your routine visits with tea and those sweet-smelling oils you always dabbed on his wrists like a priestess.

No. It was just another morning.

He was alone on the battlements, the frost biting through his gloves. He was trying to read a report, but the letters kept crawling, swimming—he couldn’t focus. His head throbbed in that familiar, cruel rhythm.

You came without a word. You always did.

He didn’t notice your approach until your hand, light and warm, brushed against his sleeve. Your fingers paused over his wrist, gentle… but firm.

“You’ve started again,” you said quietly.

He froze. Didn’t look at you. Didn’t breathe.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

You tilted your head, the shadow of that too-sharp smile twitching at your lips.

“You do. I can smell it.”

His heart sank. But your voice wasn’t cruel. It was soft. Wounded.

As if you were the one breaking.

“I thought—” he started, then stopped. He didn’t know what he was about to say. That he thought you wouldn’t notice? That he thought you’d scold him? Walk away, like the others had before?

But you didn’t.

You sat down beside him and tucked your knees to your chest like a girl. Quiet. Calm.

“I’m not angry,” you said, eyes fixed on the mountains. “I know what pain feels like, Cullen. I know what it does to a person.”

He swallowed hard, hands twitching in his gloves. “You don’t understand—”

“I do.” You looked at him then. Eyes like glass. Smile like a knife. “And I won’t leave. So don’t waste energy trying to make me.”

He should’ve protested.

Instead, he exhaled. A breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

It was after that moment that the others began to turn.

They didn’t say it aloud. Didn’t confront him. But he saw it—felt it.

Josephine’s letters came less often. Leliana stopped meeting his gaze. Even Cassandra, blunt and loyal, was suddenly… distant.

They didn’t trust him anymore.

Not when his hands trembled during war meetings.

Not when he missed reports.

Not when he snapped.

But you were always there.

You’d wait for him outside the war room. Escort him back to his quarters. Sit beside him on the edge of his bed and hum quietly as he stared at the fire, fighting the urge to scream. You never judged. Never questioned. Only offered silence, or touch, or that soft humming sound that reminded him of childhood lullabies lost in the haze of time.

One night, after he’d collapsed on the floor from a particularly violent tremor, you knelt beside him. You didn’t panic. Didn’t call for help.

You cradled his head in your lap and whispered,

“It’s alright. I’m here. You don’t have to fight it alone.”

He wanted to cry. But nothing came.

Only your voice. Your fingers combing through his hair.

Soft. Motherly. Patient.

He didn’t know when he started needing you.

But he did.

Maker, he did.

He started waiting for you. Looking for you. Listening for the sound of your footsteps outside his chambers. If you were late, his chest would tighten. If you missed a visit, the day felt wrong. He felt wrong. Unmoored.

You became his constant. His tether.

He started taking the lyrium less. Only when it was unbearable. Because you smiled when he said he was trying. Because you touched his face like he was something precious when he said he wanted to stop.

He didn't think you realized how much you mattered.

How your presence kept him upright.

How he heard your voice even when you weren’t there.

How your scent lingered on his pillow from the nights you stayed beside him, watching over him like a silent guardian.

You’d never kissed him. Never held him the way lovers did.

But he didn’t need that. Not yet.

All he needed was you.

And you gave him everything.

Your touch.

Your patience.

Your silence.

He trusted you. More than anyone.

And if the others left him behind, if the Inquisition lost faith in their broken commander—

He knew you would stay.

It started in the small things.

A missed war meeting.

A night spent entirely in his chambers, tucked beneath blankets that still smelled faintly of your perfume.

A decision left unmade—"Tomorrow," he told himself, because your hand was on his face again, stroking away the sharp thoughts, the guilt, the weight of world.

You told him he worked too hard.

You told him they didn’t appreciate what he gave up, what he endured.

And when he began to believe you, when he began to withdraw from the war room, from the others…

You were so proud of him.

“Good,” you’d whisper, stroking his knuckles as he sat on the floor beside your chair. “Let them figure it out on their own for once.”

He laughed, bitter and low, letting his head fall against your knee. “They think I’m useless.”

You tutted, your nails gently scraping through his hair. “They’re fools. They don’t understand you. But I do.”

It was warm, being needed by you.

So he didn’t notice when Josephine stopped sending her morning letters altogether.

Didn’t notice Cassandra speaking over him more often.

Didn’t notice that Leliana never looked at him now—only at you, with narrowed eyes and silent suspicion.

But he didn’t care.

Not when your arms were around him.

Not when your voice was in his ear, murmuring things only for him.

You were a balm. A harbor.

And—sometimes—a suggestion.

“You’re trembling again,” you said once, touching the back of his hand. “It’s worse, isn’t it?”

He stared down at his fingers, ashamed. They shook like reeds in the wind. His skin felt wrong. His head felt like it was stuffed with broken glass.

“I’ll manage.”

Your expression softened—sad, disappointed. You brushed your thumb over his jaw like a mother soothing a sick child.

“Wouldn’t it be easier if you took just a little?”

He flinched.

You tilted your head. “Just until you feel like yourself again. I hate seeing you suffer.”

He told you no.

That time.

But the thought festered. Wormed into the gaps in his resolve like mold.

The next time the pain rose and his vision blurred, your voice was already there. Wouldn’t it be easier?

So he did.

Just a little.

You never shamed him.

Never looked at him like a failure.

No, you kissed his temple and whispered, “That’s my good boy,” as if he’d done something noble. As if he’d been brave.

Maker help him, it felt like love.

It was dangerous, the way he began to crave you—not just your touch, but your approval.

He wanted to be good for you. Wanted to rest his head in your lap and let you command the tide of his mind.

He wanted to give in.

And you never pushed too hard.

Never all at once.

You just smiled, slow and kind, and pulled the strings one at a time.

“You don’t need their permission,” you said one evening, combing through his hair as he stared at the fire. “You’re stronger than that.”

“They don’t trust me,” he whispered. “They think I’m broken.”

“They abandoned you,” you corrected, your hand pausing just briefly. “But I never will. Remember that, Cullen.”

You’d started saying his name more often now. Softly. Sweetly. Always when he was at his lowest.

Cullen.

You made it sound like a secret. Like a prayer. Like something sacred.

He began locking the door after you left.

He didn’t want the others in. Didn’t want their questions, their judgment, their pity.

He had you.

You were enough.

He didn’t notice how little he left his quarters now.

Didn’t notice that even Commander Rylen had started giving orders in his place.

Didn’t notice that Leliana’s spies began to watch you instead of him.

But you noticed.

And you made sure he didn’t.

You came with meals. With warm drinks. With oil for his temples when the headaches clawed through his skull.

You pressed the bottle into his hand when the pain grew too much. Just a little. Just enough to quiet it.

He took it. Every time.

Because you were right.

You always were.

He needed you.

More than sleep. More than command. More than honor.

You were the last warm thing in his life, and he clung to you like a drowning man clings to a lantern.

Even when the light was flickering.

Even when it burned.

He couldn’t tell if you were saving him…

Or leading him into the dark.

But at this point, he didn’t care.

It was a strange comfort—waking up with the scent of you on his skin.

Not perfume. No, not that.

It was something gentler. Soap. Tea. The faintest trace of whatever you rubbed into his hands when they ached from clenching too hard.

He didn’t remember when you started sleeping beside him.

Maybe you never really did. Maybe it was just the warmth of your presence pressed so close while he drifted in and out of fevered dreams, your arms loosely curled around him like vines.

He never asked you to stay.

But you always did.

And when his chest seized up—when the nightmares came in roaring waves and he reached, blindly, desperately—

Your fingers were already there.

On his brow. On his chest. Stroking slowly through his hair, whispering, “Shhh, I’m here, I’m here, I’m here.”

He never called out for help anymore.

He called out for you.

You touched him more, now.

Small things.

A hand on his shoulder when others were watching. A lingering drag of fingers along the edge of his palm when passing him reports.

He used to flinch from touch.

Now, he melted under it.

Maker, he’d burn for it.

Once, during a quiet dusk where no one else lingered in Skyhold, you’d taken his hands—both of them—and kissed each knuckle, slow and deliberate.

“These hands do so much,” you whispered. “They deserve rest.”

And then you cradled them against your chest, just beneath your collarbones, warm and soft and beating with a pulse he swore matched his own.

“You deserve peace, Cullen.”

His name again. Like a prayer. Like something sacred.

He swallowed down a sound he didn’t recognize.

Grief? Gratitude? Hunger?

He couldn’t tell anymore.

You leaned in. Your lips brushed his temple.

Then, you pulled back—and with that same soft, saintly smile, you pressed a small vial into his hand.

No words.

You didn’t need them.

He took it.

Of course he did.

You began dosing him yourself.

It started when his hands shook too badly.

“Let me,” you murmured, easing the bottle from his grip. You measured out the lyrium like you were pouring tea, touched the rim of the cup to his lips, and tilted gently.

He drank like it was holy water.

Your eyes never left his face.

You looked almost… reverent.

“That’s it,” you’d say, brushing his hair back. “Good boy. There now… doesn’t that feel better?”

He didn’t realize how often it happened.

How often you came.

How often they didn’t.

You were his world now.

Not the Inquisition. Not the war.

Just your lap. Your hands. Your voice.

And when he tried to speak of duty—of leadership, of his role—you only looked at him with that same gentle sadness.

“They ask too much of you,” you said. “Let them handle the mess they made. You’ve done enough.”

He didn’t argue.

Not anymore.

The worst part?

He still trusted you.

He trusted you more than anything.

More than Cassandra.

More than Leliana.

More than the Maker.

You never asked him to love you.

You only asked for one thing:

“Let me take care of you.”

And he let you.

Again and again.

Even when the tremors returned quicker. Even when his eyes felt dry and his heart slow.

Even when Leliana’s gaze grew harder and he noticed Cassandra’s sword now hung closer to her hip when she spoke to him.

None of it mattered.

Not when you held the vial with such grace, your fingers brushing his lips as you offered him salvation.

His hands, once strong and firm, now trembled when you weren't there.

He hated it.

But not enough to stop.

Not enough to walk away.

Because when he looked into your eyes—too dull, too deep, like still water before a storm—

He saw a version of himself that was calm.

Quiet.

Safe.

And you gave him that.

And he gave you everything in return.

He didn’t know when the lyrium stopped working.

Only that it became not enough.

There was a shaking in him now—a deep, dreadful quiver that didn’t sit in the muscles, but in the marrow. In the soul.

A splintering.

The dreams were worse.

More real.

More bloody.

His hands always came back red in them.

He woke up shaking, panting like a dying animal. The sheets soaked. The fire long gone cold.

And you—

You were always there.

Arms around him.

So soft. So constant.

Pressing his head to your lap, rocking him like a child, whispering against his crown, “Shhh. I know, I know, it’s alright now. You’re safe.”

You never flinched when he wept.

You never judged when he muttered nonsense.

And when he looked up with wild, glassy eyes and begged, “Please—I can’t—I can’t take it anymore—”

You only nodded, and said, “Then let me help.”

You started giving him something else.

A sweet-scented tincture. Thick and dark as wine.

“Just sip it,” you said. “It’s calming. For the dreams. For the pain.”

He didn’t ask what was in it.

He trusted you.

He drank it.

And then the edges blurred.

At first, it was beautiful.

Warm.

Like being held in light.

His body relaxed. His mind dulled.

You kissed his forehead.

You told him stories.

And when he couldn’t speak, when his tongue felt too thick and his throat too dry, you said,

“You don’t need to talk. Just listen. Just breathe. Just stay with me.”

He nodded.

He stayed.

Of course he did.

You were the only real thing left.

The days… bled.

He started seeing things.

In the corners of Skyhold’s halls, where shadows clung to the stone—

He saw flickers. Movement. Something watching.

Sometimes, the monsters weren’t in his sleep.

Sometimes, they came in the daylight.

He saw faces melting.

He saw hands reaching from the floor.

He saw templars, marching toward him with swords aflame, and heard the screams of children behind every door.

He couldn’t tell what was memory and what was new.

He couldn’t tell where he was.

But then—

you’d come.

Your hand to his cheek.

Your voice, low and slow, humming a song he didn’t know but somehow remembered.

You’d touch his jaw, his shoulders, guide him like a marionette.

Ease him to sit. Ease him to drink. Ease him to rest.

You smiled as if none of this was strange.

You looked at him like he was whole.

You spoke like you loved him.

And maybe—maybe he loved you.

Or maybe love had long since stopped meaning anything real.

He only knew this:

When you were near, the monsters kept their distance.

When you whispered, “It’s alright,” he almost believed it.

When you opened your arms, he ran to them like a man drowning.

Sometimes he’d forget things.

The names of soldiers.

The number of steps between towers.

Whether he’d eaten.

But he never forgot you.

You were carved into him now.

Your scent. Your skin. Your lullabies.

Your fingers against his mouth, guiding him gently to drink something he didn’t question.

“Good,” you’d say, petting through his hair. “You’re such a good boy, Cullen. Just let me take care of it.”

And he would nod.

Eyes glassy.

Heart full of something too heavy and too soft to name.

He didn’t realize he was being kept.

Didn’t realize the Inquisition no longer asked for him.

Didn’t notice how the doors stayed closed longer each day.

He only noticed you.

And the way you never left.

Not once.

Even the monsters didn’t dare take you away.

The headaches never stopped.

They pressed into his skull like knives made of ice—deep, cruel things that bloomed behind his eyes, throbbed in his temples, wrapped around the base of his neck.

And the dreams weren’t dreams anymore.

He’d wake up in Skyhold only to realize…

he was still dreaming.

The walls sometimes bled.

The fire cracked and whispered his name.

Sometimes the stairs laughed when he walked on them.

But none of that mattered.

Not when you were there.

He couldn’t eat unless you were there.

Couldn’t drink unless you reminded him, cradled the cup in your hands like it was sacred, pressed it to his lips like an offering.

“Drink for me, Cullen. Just a little. You’ll feel better.”

He always did.

Even when it made him dizzy. Even when it made him sick.

Because then—then you would hold him.

Lay him down.

Stroke his hair.

Hum something warm and low, kiss his forehead like he wasn’t broken, like he wasn’t losing his mind in pieces.

And in those moments—

He wasn’t a commander.

He wasn’t a failure.

He wasn’t haunted.

He was just yours.

And somehow that made the pain bearable.

He stopped going to meetings.

He stopped reading reports.

He stopped responding when Leliana knocked on his door.

He forgot Cassandra’s last conversation with him.

And you were always there to smooth it over.

You told him, “They’re worried. But don’t mind them. They don’t see what I see.”

And he believed you.

Because they looked at him like he was a ghost now.

But you—

you looked at him like he was something holy.

One night, the worst of the headaches hit.

A knife in the dark, twisting deep.

His eyes burned. His hands shook.

He couldn’t speak. Couldn’t scream. Couldn’t even breathe.

He thought he was dying.

He wanted to die.

But then—your voice.

Low, calm.

He felt your arms around him.

You kissed his temple, again and again, soft as feathers.

You laid him down like he was fragile. You whispered:

“I’m here, Cullen. You don’t have to be strong. Just let go.”

And he did.

Collapsed into you.

Curled against your chest.

Like a child.

Like something broken.

That night he slept for the first time in days.

And when he woke—

You were already sitting beside him, brushing the hair from his face.

And you said it like you were saying the weather, like it wasn’t the end of the world:

“Let’s leave, Cullen.”

His breath caught.

You smiled, still stroking his cheek.

“There’s nothing left for us here. They don’t want you anymore. But I do. Come with me. We’ll disappear. You won’t have to be afraid. I’ll take care of everything.”

You looked at him with that too-sharp smile.

Your voice so sweet. So certain.

So familiar.

He stared at you, lips parted.

Mind foggy.

Heart heavy.

And somewhere inside him, a quiet voice whispered: you already have.

You escaped.

In the dead of night.

No goodbyes. No letters. No last looks.

Just your hand in his, leading him past the gates, past the mountains, into the mist.

And he followed.

Because he couldn’t do anything else.

Because he didn’t know who he was without you anymore.

You brought him somewhere beautiful.

A quiet valley cradled between sleeping hills.

The grass was always wet with dew. The flowers breathed like living things.

A lake so still it looked like glass.

And the sky—

The sky looked like something out of a dream.

Soft pinks. Endless blues.

It smelled like peace.

And for a while—he felt it.

He wasn’t shaking anymore.

The nightmares slowed.

He still needed your hands to eat, your kisses to sleep, your songs to breathe—

But he smiled again.

You laughed with him.

Bathed him in sunlight.

Cradled him on the porch of a cabin that must’ve been built just for two.

You were stroking his hair one afternoon.

Pressed your nose to his cheek and whispered, “You’re safe now. You’re all mine.”

He didn’t even flinch.

He just closed his eyes.

But then…

things began to tilt.

Slow.

Subtle.

Like a storm on the horizon, silent, waiting.

You changed.

Just a little at first.

You’d go quiet suddenly.

Your fingers still against his lips.

Your eyes distant. Cold.

He thought maybe he’d said something wrong.

Maybe he was too loud. Too slow. Too broken.

Then one morning, you dropped the cup in front of him.

Snapped, “Drink it.”

Just like that. Sharp.

The smile nowhere to be seen.

He blinked at you.

Tried to ask what was wrong.

But his voice shook.

And then you—

You turned and screamed.

“Don’t talk back to me, Cullen! Don’t make this hard!”

The words shattered something in him.

He’d never heard you like that.

Your voice, so soft before, was now a blade.

He sat in stunned silence.

And for the first time in weeks—he cried.

Openly.

Silently.

Like a child.

He shook so badly the cup spilled on the floor.

But you came back.

You always came back.

Kneeling at his feet.

Wiping the tears with your thumbs.

Kissing his cheeks and saying, “I’m sorry, love, I’m so sorry. I just get scared sometimes. I don’t want to lose you. You understand, don’t you?”

He nodded.

Of course he did.

Because he didn’t want to lose you either.

Not when you were all he had left.

Not when your hands still felt like heaven.

He drank the new draught.

Slept in your lap.

Felt the ache in his head, the fog in his chest, the fear in his bones.

But he still let you hold him.

Because even if you screamed,

Even if your eyes turned sharp—

Your hands were still gentle.

Your kisses still real.

And when the monsters came…

You were still the only one who could make them go away.

— MASTERLIST ☆

— © luv-lock. don't copy, use or translate any of my works here or any other websites ☆

[pineconepie]

What would happen with a dragon or dragonshifter platonic yandere parent?

TW: Kidnapping, parental yandere, infantilization, mentions of/implied death, mentions of parental neglect

...

Exploring has always been a fun hobby to you, especially the forests by your home. The deep greenery is so comforting compared to the dreary gray cities.

That is why you had left for your favorite spot in the woods; the clearing with flowers and tall oaks and an even taller cave cliff that always shaded the area. It was quiet except for the sound of the stream nearby.

But this time, you're willing to explore past that.

Not by much, but when word got around town about some odd creature lurking nearby, curiosity got the better of you, standing at almost ten feet tall with large golden wings and a tail.

You're convinced its just rumors to keep children from wandering out, especially when you take your first few steps into unfamiliar territory. Its peaceful, birds chirping as they fly through the sky above, branches breaking under your boots.

You find yourself beginning to get bored, however, wondering if you're wasting time and effort for nothing.

Of course there isn't some winged monster out here! You sigh, stopping in place to sit down and rest. You wonder if its worth it to keep going, or maybe just head home since you haven't come across anything.

You can feel the fatigue creep up on you, weighing down on you. Maybe its best to get home before sundown.

"You're on my territory, human."

A gruff voice shocks you out of your thoughts. You whip your head around, and see a pair of legs. You look up to see...

That's no person! Not completely.

Your eyes widen at what stands before you. The stories were true; you have found the creature, and it surely is almost ten feet tall.

The... dragon looks down at you with shiny yellow eyes, covered in scales that glitter like gold in the sunlight. His tail sways back and forth, wings tucked behind his back.

You panic. "Please don't kill me! I'm sorry, I thought..." You figure saying "I thought you weren't even real" won't do much to save you.

His eyes narrow, and for a moment you think this is it, until he kneels down and grabs your chin with clawed hands gently, tilting your head upwards to meet his gaze.

"I've seen you, human. You always come out to the forest alone," he states calmly. You gulp, knowing where this might be going. He only notices your fearful expression then. "I don't eat children. Not even human children."

"I'm not..." You trail off.

If the only thing saving you is him thinking you're a child, might as well not say anything. But you couldn't deny his interest is somewhat intriguing.

"I'll leave and never come back, I swear. I really meant no trouble, so, um..."

He lets go of your face, but when you try to rush past him, he holds up a wing to block you. "The forest gets more dangerous at night, for someone your size. Especially for humans. I bet if I patted you on the head, you'd just flatten. What kind of human parent lets their young wander this far? And they claim I'm the monster." He gives a quiet, bitter laugh. "Do human parents these days care that little for their hatchlings?"

"What?" you exclaim in bewilderment. You don't know how to respond, but he's not letting you pass anytime soon. "Human parents aren't like that." Not all the time, at least.

"Oh, really? Then tell me where they are if they care about you so much." His tone becomes annoyed as he goes on. "If my child were out here alone, I'd never forgive myself for being so careless."

You sigh. "Look, I'm not... a child. I'm an adult, okay? Please, if you could let me get by—"

"Oh, please. How old are you?"

For a moment, you hesitate before telling him your age.

He looks unimpressed. "I am almost an entire millennia old. You are a child. In fact, I'd argue you're a baby."

"Humans age differently!" you say in your own defense. "We don't live for nearly as long as you do, so while I may be young compared to you, I'm all grown up."

He snorts. "Okay, dear, I believe you. You're very grown-up." His tone is laced with sarcasm, but its less gruff now and replaced with something almost endearing, yet patronizing. He's teasing you, obviously, but then his tail coils around you, forcing you to step closer to him. You don't even attempt to move, because there's no winning against this creature. "What is your name?"

You bite your tongue. "(Y/n)." He hums, so you awkwardly ask, "...yours?"

"Magnus," he responds in that deep voice. He seems more relaxed than before. "But you will call me 'Father'. Or 'Dad', as I heard some humans prefer."

Your eyes widen, taking a few steps away from him as far as his coiled tail would allow. "Wait, what?"

He shakes his head. "Well, obviously I can't trust human parents. Who knows how they treated you? Allowing you to come out here alone! Did they starve you too?" Before you could reply, he grabs onto you, holding you in a gentle grip. You squirm in his hold, protesting. "So I'll take care of you. Like my own hatchling. Don't worry, Father will protect you from now on, (Y/n)."

"Stop!" you shout. "Let me go home! I have to... water my plants! And I have friends! I have lots of important responsibilities! I can't just abandon everything!"

"Too many responsibilities for a child," Magnus tuts.

With no warning, he jumps into the sky, his large wings flapping. You squeeze your eyes shut.

There's nothing to grip onto as his scales are slippery and smooth, but his grip on you is tight enough that you feel secure that he won't drop you.

When you open them back up, he's in a huge cave on the cliff you've seen so many times, with lots of shiny coins scattered everywhere along with golden jewelry and treasure chests filled to the brim. There's skulls decorating the place as well, which has your stomach twisting uncomfortably.

In the middle of it all is a nest; a huge nest. It seems to be made of broken branches and torn cloth.

"Welcome home, my little one," Magnus says. You freeze when he brings you to the nest, laying you down in it. The cloth and sticks poke at you, but its comfortable nonetheless. You stare up at him, glaring, but he only seems amused. "Father is going to hunt now, he'll be back with yummy food for you, alright?"

You shake your head. "Magnus..."

"That's Father," he corrects sternly, leaving no room for disagreement. "Be good. Don't you dare even try leaving. I've memorized your scent by now and I can find you wherever you run off to. I'm sure you already understand that I'm much faster than you, too."

He kisses your forehead and takes off once again.

[rie-092]

i'm honestly waiting for goldie gramps. i have to do this, promise.

imagine platonic yandere! eruhaben with young dragon! reader. one day, he found an egg in front of his lair. at first he thought it was a normal egg. but he noticed that it wasn't.

platonic yandere! eruhaben who keeps saying that he doesn't care if the egg didn't hatch. yet, that night after he found it— he made sure to make a comfortable place for it inside his lair. then every night, he would spend his time watching the egg, wondering when will it hatch and everyday, he would wipe it convincing himself that he just didn't want to get his lair dirty when it truth he was quite worried that you might chew your egg shell once you hatch. so, if your egg shell is dirty, then you might get sick!

platonic yandere! eruhaben who was surprise when your egg finally hatch. he found himself mesmerized. you look cute, to be honest. the way you look around, seemed to be confused. eruhaben is not the type of person (dragon) who shows affection. but surprisingly, he found himself wants to shower you with one. let's add the fact that you were also a golden dragon so the two of you looks like a father and child duo.

platonic yandere! eruhaben who spent four months thinking of the name he will give you. and when you copied the way he said your name and giggled. eruhaben found himself smiling back at you. you're cute.

platonic yandere! eruhaben who thought that he spend his lifetime alone. but now, he had an adorable child following him around and calling him daddy. well, it's not like he was complaining or anything.

platonic yandere! eruhaben who acts like he didn't care but actually happy when you first polymorph as a human. it was a normal morning and he was about to call you for breakfast. but when he entered your room, he didn't see you there, instead he found a child sitting on your bed. a child with the same golden hair and ( color ) eyes as well as pointed ears. when that kid grinned brightly at him calling him daddy.

platonic yandere! eruhaben who now started buying a hundred of matching clothes that the two of you can wear. he even go far on going to the human market to buy a book containing several ways to style a child's hair. no, he can't let anyone call his child ugly.

platonic yandere! eruhaben who started to became possessive when you first met another dragon. he knew that dragons were curious creature. he knew that one day, you might leave him. because in eruhaben's eyes, you were still a child. well, technically you were a child since you're only 20 years old in human age. but still—!

platonic yandere! eruhaben who suddenly stopped teaching you about magic. it made you confuse, but you can't blame him! he started thinking things like— you might use his teachings against him to escape from him. dragons are known to be possessive and territorial, they doesn't let go and willing to die to protect their treasures. and it seems like eruhaben started seeing you as one.

young dragon! reader who got kidnapped by an organization after they raided eruhaben's lair while he was out buying some stuffs for your birthday. by the time he got back, seeing that you're not there and the blood on the floor. it made eruhaben snap.

platonic yandere! eruhaben who literally burn down the kingdom of the organization who kidnapped you. then later, after he saw you lifeless inside their headquarters. torture— they tortured his child. how dare them. how dare those people— eruhaben knew more than anyone else what happen to those dragons who didn't die because of natural death. and that made him more angrier than he was.

platonic yandere! eruhaben who started loathing humans after they killed you. but a few hundred years later, after meeting cale henituse. he was flabbergasted to find someone who looks like his child, have the same name as his child. but is not a dragon— instead, a mage.

it's still you, don't worry. the gods and goddesses gave you a second chance and reincarnated you into a human body. but surprisingly, you still became someone who is really good at magic and handling mana.

cale henituse found it odd how eruhaben seemed to adore you a lot. but didn't say anything because he doesn't want to anger the golden dragon. and it seems like he won't hurt you anyway.

platonic yandere! eruhaben who became 100 times more overprotective to now reincarnated! reader. he doesn't allow you out of his sight.

just imagine meeting a thousand year old dragon who told you to call him papa or daddy even though it was the first time you met him. but you see, you were quite obsessed with dragons yourself. so when he requested that, you immediately did that with a straight face. cale started to became quite worried about your mental state.

platonic yandere! eruhaben who refused to let you out of his sight. he started keeping you around him. and as a dragon fanatic, you were more than willing to stay with him.

platonic yandere! eruhaben who started using your obsession with dragons against you to make you stay by his side. you don't have to worry about anything because he will be more than willing to give you the world. so please, this time— don't leave him alone.

all in all, platonic yandere eruhaben is the definition of a protective yet lovable father when you were still a dragon. but now transformed as an overbearing, territorial parent who is now obsessed with keeping you safe.

it's just a secret, but now keeps you in cale's villa after you almost died in a battle. and the one who proposed that idea was cale henituse who almost got a heart attack after he saw you, being carried by choi han, bloodied and barely alive.

it looks like in this life, you have a couple of saints, a crown prince, some nobles, two red-heads, a couple of swordmaster, some dragons ( aside from eruhaben ), some assassins, a wolf, and a couple of cats who is worried for your safety. for the last time— you were not a dragon anymore so you better take care of yourself properly!

[hawkinshorror94]

About a yearish ago, I wrote a piece called Obsession. It's a yandere Connor (from DBH) and now I want to do the same for Spite.

Spite who is obsessed with Rook, flooding Lucanis's thoughts with salicious images of their leader nude.

Teeth

Tongue

Nails

Pain

Obsession

"Rook is my favoriteee"

When Spite sleep walks he plants Lucanis outside Rook's door, listening. Were they asleep, pleasuring themselves, he didnt care, he listened?

And poor Lucanis is just trying to love Rook while Spite wants to be rough and possesive with them. Maybe he calms down a bit after Spite is finally able to get a taste of Rook or maybe it gets worse. Because now he's had them, he's ruined them and he wants more.

While Rook and Lucanis sleeps, Spite watches Rook. So close that if Rook were to open their eyes Spite's would have Lucanis's face pressed inches from theirs. So close that when he breaths out, they breath it in. His eyes unblinking and fixed on them.

Oh and when no one is around that spectral demon bastard is sniffing Rook's underclothes. Nose pressed into the fabric, a tentative tasting the fabric, tasting Rook.

"Smells like Rook"

I wish I could stop writing men as obsessed fucking freaks. Alas, it's my character flaw.

[ibahibut]

Make you mine

[fantasybabygirlslutsworld]

The Innocent Dragon

What if the history had been changed?

What if there is more to the Aegon's prophecy?

What if the Dance of dragons never took place?

What if the union of King Viserys and Alicent Hightower never took place? what if Rhaenyra Targaryen had a Older sister who was kept hidden in the palace by the Targaryen family due to her innocent soul and ethereal face?

What if she was finally introduced to the realm only to be betrothed to the rogue Prince who had his eyes on her from the beginning?

Read "The Innocent Dragon" to know all the answers to these questions.

Aesthetic Part One Part two Part three

Part four Part five Part Six

@rosecentury @queenbrownie18 @snowtargaryen @balumotte @camilalexa93

@666kpopfan @immyowndefender @babystudentroadthing @belovednaerys

[twistedheartsclub]

Marked for the Hoard Male Dragon Shifter X Female Reader PT2

🖤 Author’s Note Marked for the Hoard is an original dark fantasy romance story featuring obsessive love, ancient magic, and a dragon shifter who has waited centuries for his mate. This is not fanfiction — the world, characters, and lore are entirely original. At the heart of the story is Y/N, a modern girl unknowingly descended from a bloodline once bound to dragons. When she returns to her ancestral homeland, she steps straight into the territory of Vaeroth — a powerful and obsessive dragon shifter who has watched and waited for generations.His name, in the old tongue, means “keeper of ruin” or “the one who waits beneath ash.” He is the last of the great drakes. And he has chosen her as the final piece of his hoard. She was never meant to come here. But now that she has, Vaeroth will never let her leave.

⚠️ Warnings: yandere love interest · kidnapping · obsession · forced proximity · possessiveness · dubcon · marking/bonding · psychological manipulation · monster lover · nonhuman anatomy · breeding kink themes · ritualistic claiming · emotional dependency · primal behavior · isolation · fantasy violence

PART ONE HERE

“Y/N!”

A voice—familiar, broken.

She froze.

Through the trees, Maya appeared, face pale, eyes wide.

Then Jade, crying out her name as they raced toward her.

She collapsed into their arms, shaking.

“Where were you?” Maya whispered. “We’ve been looking for you for two days.”

Y/N opened her mouth.

But all that came were flashbacks—

The heat.

The mark.

The way his body moved over hers like something divine.

She gasped.

And fainted.

Later – The Airbnb

The first thing she saw was the ceiling fan.

Then the soft white towel wrapped around her.

Then her friends—hovering, frantic, voices hushed and panicked.

“She’s burning up—get the water going again—”

“Her legs—look at the marks—Jade, look at her neck.”

“I knew something was wrong, I knew it.”

Y/N blinked, dizzy. “He…”

“Shh,” Jade whispered, holding her face. “You’re safe. But we’re leaving. Now.”

“There’s a flight in an hour,” Maya said, already packing. “We’re not waiting for the boat. I called a pilot. I don’t care if it drains my savings.”

“Local police didn’t even try to look for you,” Jade muttered, angry and shaken. “They knew. They all knew.”

They helped her up. Into the shower. Her legs barely worked.

The water stung. The marks glowed faintly beneath her skin.

Maya cried as she scrubbed dirt from Y/N’s knees.

Jade wrapped her in a blanket like she was glass.

They didn’t ask for details.

They just got her out.

It was nearly dinner hour when they reached the airstrip.

The village streets were empty, just as Maya had hoped—windows shuttered, lanterns dim, fires lit indoors for the evening meal.

Tradition, the locals had called it.

But now? It felt like a trap. A warning.

“Be inside when the fire dies. Stay home. Stay safe.”

Y/N walked between them, wrapped in a long shawl, her face hidden beneath a wide-brimmed straw hat they’d bought that morning—before they knew.

She hadn’t said a word.

Her steps were uneven. Her hands trembled under the fabric.

The charter plane waited on the far edge of the narrow field, propellers spinning, the pilot waving them forward.

“Just keep your head down,” Jade whispered. “Almost there.”

Maya gripped her hand.

Every rustle in the brush made them flinch. Every shadow stretched too long.

But no one stopped them.

No voices called out.

Just the wind.

And the tightness in the air, like the sky itself was holding its breath.

Inside the small plane, the hum of the engine masked the sound of their heartbeat.

The pilot said nothing. Just nodded as they climbed aboard.

Y/N sat between them, silent, covered. The moment her seatbelt clicked into place, her whole body flinched.

Maya reached over and rested a hand on her thigh.

Jade leaned in, whispering low. “That couple we met? They said the locals still believe in the old ways. That every few decades a girl goes missing. Chosen.”

“Offered,” Maya corrected softly.

Jade swallowed. “They said he never lets them go.”

A gust of wind shook the wings.

The pilot rolled the throttle.

The plane surged forward.

Faster. Louder.

The island shrank behind them.

And just as the wheels left the ground—

A roar.

Not from the engine.

Not from the wind.

A roar that split the clouds.

Deep. Bone-shaking. Inhuman.

The pilot stiffened.

Y/N’s head snapped toward the window.

But all she saw was sky.

Burning gold.

The plane climbed hard into the clouds.

Inside, the hum of the engines buzzed like tension beneath the skin. The cabin shook lightly with turbulence as the island grew smaller beneath them—its cliffs fading into shadow, the shoreline swallowed by sea.

The pilot glanced back, his voice clipped, tight. “Three hours. If the winds hold, we’ll hit the coast just before sunrise.”

He didn’t say what coast.

He didn’t ask questions.

But his knuckles were white on the throttle.

“They’re not following us, right?” Maya asked, voice barely above a whisper.

He didn’t answer.

He didn’t have to.

Because they’d all heard the roar.

And Y/N, swaddled in silence, still hadn’t spoken.

She stared out the window, unmoving.

Not crying.

Not blinking.

Just listening.

Far Below – The Cliffs of Vaeroth’s Domain

The chamber was cold.

The silks scattered. The furs left tangled and empty. The scent of fire and sweat still lingered—but it was already fading.

Vaeroth stood at the mouth of the lair, hands clenched at his sides, his human form trembling with restraint.

Behind him, the Elder Woman spoke quietly.

“She was not meant to wake yet. The elixirs should have held her another day.”

Vaeroth didn’t turn.

“I left for a few hours. To bring her food. To gather the oils for the next bond rite.”

“She was not supposed to leave the mountain.”

“She was mine.”

The ground beneath his feet blackened.

Rocks cracked.

Smoke curled from his fingertips.

“She is not far,” the Elder said. “Her scent lingers. Her blood sings still.”

“She ran,” he growled. “And she was taken. While I was gone.”

His voice wasn’t loud—but it scraped like broken stone.

“She did not leave willingly,” the Elder offered gently.

But it didn’t matter.

Because to Vaeroth, it was theft.

And when something is stolen from a dragon—

The world burns until it’s returned.

He stepped to the cliff’s edge.

The clouds churned above.

And his wings—massive, black, gold-veined and terrible—unfurled with a snap that split the air.

“Find her,” he said.

“Before the stars forget my mercy.”

The wheels hit the ground with a jolt.

Y/N flinched so hard she bit her tongue.

The pilot guided the plane along a small coastal runway tucked between palm trees and cliffs. It wasn’t home. Not yet. But it was the mainland—a bustling little harbor town on the southern edge of Greece.

Three hours from the island.

Ten hours from home, with layovers and customs and no sleep.

But it was far enough to breathe.

“We’re safe,” Maya whispered, gripping Y/N’s hand as they stepped onto the tarmac.

Jade pulled her hood higher, adjusting the shawl again to hide her face. “We’ll book a flight from Athens. Get a hotel. Rest. Then disappear.”

Y/N didn’t answer.

Her hands shook.

Her skin burned.

And somewhere inside her chest, something shuddered violently—like a scream with no voice.

He knows.

The girls guided her through the airport. Customs. A car to the hotel. She didn’t remember most of it.

They got her into the room, turned on the AC, ordered bottled water and soft food.

Jade rubbed her back. Maya brushed her hair.

Still, Y/N said nothing.

But she felt something.

Like a thread being pulled tight.

A string snapping.

Like someone out there had just—

Roared.

Back on the Island

The Airbnb was empty.

No luggage. No scent of soap. No unwashed clothes or cell chargers.

Gone.

Every trace of her.

The village authorities offered only shrugs. The locals stared at the ground.

Vaeroth stood in the threshold, hands at his sides.

Andre—his second—shifted nervously beside him. “They must’ve taken her by private plane. It was too fast for the ferries.”

“Did anyone see which way?”

“No one’s talking.”

Vaeroth stepped forward once.

And the walls shattered.

The front of the Airbnb exploded outward in a burst of flame and force, sending debris across the grass. The floor cracked beneath him. Fire licked the stone.

“Find. Her.”

His voice was quiet.

Too quiet.

And the sky began to darken.

The hotel room was dim and still.

Soft linens. Heavy curtains. The hum of the air conditioner.

Jade and Maya had stepped out for food, leaving Y/N tucked into the bed. They’d drawn the blinds. Turned off the TV. Given her a melatonin and whispered promises.

“Sleep. You’re safe now. Just rest.”

But safety was a lie.

She dreamed of him again.

Not a memory—a sensation.

Of his hands holding her open.

Of his mouth on her throat, his teeth sinking in with claiming heat.

Of the way her legs had wrapped around him like instinct.

“You’re mine, little flame. Even now, I burn inside you.”

She felt him—again—between her thighs. Felt him marking her, like his body had carved itself into her soul.

And when he thrust into her, in the dream—

She screamed.

Y/N shot upright in the bed, drenched in sweat, screaming, sobbing.

“No, no—stop—*please don’t—*I didn’t mean to—”

The door slammed open.

“Y/N!” Maya dropped the takeout. “What’s happening?!”

Jade was there in seconds, climbing into bed, pulling Y/N into her arms. “It’s okay—you’re okay—it’s not real, you’re with us—”

But Y/N sobbed harder.

Because it was real.

Her body ached like she’d been touched again.

Bitten.

Used.

And worst of all—her stomach twisted with a heat that wasn’t fear.

It was want.

And that terrified her most of all.

Jade gently wiped her face. Maya got her a water bottle with shaking hands.

“You’re almost home, baby,” Jade whispered. “Two more hours. The flight’s soon.”

“Just hold on,” Maya said. “We’re getting you out of this.”

But Y/N’s eyes drifted toward the window.

And she didn’t say it out loud.

He’ll come for me.

Because some part of her wanted him to.

Lightning shimmered behind his wings.

Vaeroth soared through the clouds—all scale and fury, the night sky bending around his massive form. His eyes blazed gold, slashing through the fog and storm, seeking.

“Where are you…” he growled low.

He’d lost her scent three times—once near the harbor, again mid-flight—but it never faded completely. Not with the bond pulsing, bleeding magic through the sky like a flare only he could feel.

She was still his.

Still warm with his fire.

And now—

He saw it.

A glint of silver slicing through the clouds ahead.

A plane.

Civilian.

Slow.

“Found you.”

He pushed harder, the wind shrieking across his wingspan, rain hammering against his scaled shoulders. He had hours before they landed. Maybe less.

But he would not lose her again.

Not now.

Not when she was carrying his mark.

Not when she was possibly—

No. He wouldn’t say it. Not yet.

Inside the Plane

Maya glanced out the window.

Dark sky. Heavy clouds. Distant flashes of lightning.

Something itched beneath her skin.

She leaned slightly, trying to see past the wing.

Nothing.

But the feeling didn’t go away.

The air felt heavier now.

Like something big was flying just beneath the clouds.

She looked to her side.

Y/N lay slumped in her seat, soft breaths coming slow and deep. The sleeping pill had worked. Jade had offered it with water, and Y/N hadn’t even protested.

But now?

Now Maya watched her twitch, her hand fisting the edge of her blanket, her brow furrowing.

Dreaming.

No—fighting.

Maya looked back out the window.

And though she saw nothing—

Something was watching.

She just didn’t know what.

The plane landed just after sunrise.

Bleary-eyed travelers shuffled through customs. No one looked too closely at the three girls—two panicked, one limp between them, her hood up, sunglasses hiding bruises no one wanted to see.

Jade flagged the first uniformed officer she saw.

“We need help,” she said, breathless. “She was taken. We just got back from—”

The officer didn’t hesitate.

Within ten minutes, Y/N was in a room with white walls, glass panels, and a woman in a navy blazer offering her lukewarm water in a paper cup.

Maya and Jade sat nearby, whispering. Nervous.

A nurse arrived. Then a doctor. Then someone from “International Affairs.”

Questions.

So many questions.

“Can you tell us what happened to you?” “Were you alone?” “Do you remember being assaulted?” “Was anyone else there?” “Do you feel safe now?”

Y/N sat in a chair by the window, her arms wrapped around herself, a hospital blanket draped over her shoulders.

She didn’t answer.

Her gaze stayed fixed on the sunlight creeping up the far wall. Pale and cold. Nothing like the heat of the firelight where he’d whispered into her skin.

A tear slipped down her cheek.

No one noticed.

Except Maya.

She squeezed Y/N’s hand.

“It’s over,” she whispered. “You’re home now.”

But Y/N didn’t feel home.

She felt hollow.

And somewhere inside her…

He was still whispering.

Elsewhere – A City of Smoke and Steel

Vaeroth stood atop a rooftop overlooking the glass heart of the city, his human form cloaked in shadow.

He had tracked the scent across the sea.

Through wind and storm and steel towers.

He could taste her in the air. Faint. Distant.

But here.

“She’s close,” he murmured.

His second, cloaked in mortal clothes, nodded from the alley below.

“They took her to a hospital. A clinic for trauma recovery.”

Vaeroth’s jaw clenched.

She had needed recovery.

And he hadn’t been there.

He looked toward the east, toward the sunlight reflecting off cold glass.

“I will find her,” he whispered. “And this time, nothing will take her from me.”

The fluorescent lights above Y/N buzzed faintly as the nurse pressed gauze to her shoulder.

The bite mark—his mark—had broken the skin deeper than anyone first noticed.

They’d cleaned it.

Stitched it.

Bandaged it like any other wound.

But no one could dress the hollow ache beneath it.

She didn’t flinch when they touched her.

She didn’t speak when they asked about the bruises on her hips, the fingerprints along her thighs.

Not when they asked about what happened in the woods.

Not when they gently asked if she remembered anything.

She just stared at the clock.

Its ticking felt slower than it should have.

A calm-looking woman in a blazer approached her afterward.

“We’re not going to pressure you, sweetheart,” she said gently, handing her a business card. “When you’re ready, we’ll be here. Trauma doesn’t move on anyone else’s timeline.”

Y/N took the card.

Didn’t look at it.

Didn’t look at her.

They gave her two prescriptions.

Painkillers.

Anti-anxiety medication.

A list of hotlines.

A pamphlet on “Reclaiming Yourself.”

And then they sent her home.

Just like that.

Outside – With Maya and Jade

“This is insane,” Jade hissed, arms crossed. “They’re just letting her leave?”

“She didn’t give them anything,” Maya muttered. “They can’t hold her. No evidence. No name. No charges.”

“She was kidnapped. She came back marked. She has burn scars—”

“I know!” Maya snapped. Her voice cracked. “You think I don’t know?”

They watched through the glass as Y/N shuffled toward them in borrowed clothes, hair down, hood up, eyes blank.

She didn’t even look real anymore.

Jade bit her lip. “Something’s wrong here. I mean, beyond trauma. I feel it.”

“I do too,” Maya whispered.

And above them, in the shifting gray clouds…

Wings passed.

No sound. No shadow.

But Y/N looked up.

Just once.

And the corner of her mouth trembled.

The car ride was quiet.

Y/N sat in the backseat, her head pressed against the window, watching the city blur by.

Maya drove. Jade sat twisted in her seat, glancing back every few seconds, whispering soft reassurances.

Y/N didn’t hear them.

Or maybe she did.

But all her body could register was the distance between her and the sea.

The further they drove, the more wrong her skin felt.

Like she was being pulled inside-out.

When they reached the apartment, she refused to get out.

“No,” she whispered, curling against the door. “I don’t want to go in.”

“Sweetheart, please…” Jade opened her door gently, crouching beside her. “You’re safe now. No one knows where you are.”

“You don’t understand,” Y/N whimpered, eyes wide and full of glassy terror. “He’ll come. He’ll find me.”

Her fingers dug into the seatbelt.

“Y/N…”

“I can’t… I can’t…”

And then she broke.

Collapsed into Jade’s arms, sobbing.

Maya came around the side and helped lift her, carry her in.

They fed her warm broth.

Held her until she stopped shaking.

Brushed her hair. Let her shower.

They dressed her in oversized clothes and tucked her into Jade’s bed, the windows shut tight and curtains drawn.

Jade whispered stories from their college dorm days.

Maya stayed awake, rubbing her back.

Eventually—

Y/N slept.

But something else woke.

Outside, the wind shifted.

The streetlight flickered.

In the shadows between buildings, where no eyes dared linger…

He watched.

Not in dragon form—not yet.

But close.

Too close.

Inside, Y/N stirred in her sleep.

Her fingers twitched.

A tear slipped down her cheek.

She didn’t hear his voice.

But she felt his presence.

Like smoke curling under the door.

Like breath on the back of her neck.

And when she rolled onto her side—

The faintest glint of gold sparked in the corner of the dark room.

Then vanished.

The apartment was quiet.

No music.

No chatter.

Just the faint clink of porcelain and the low hum of the refrigerator.

Y/N stood in the kitchen, sleeves too long, face washed pale. Her eyes were red-rimmed and unfocused as she poured coffee into a chipped mug. No cream. No sugar.

Her hands trembled.

Her hair stuck to her damp forehead.

And between her legs, she still felt warm.

Not pain. Not soreness. Warmth.

Like something had left a part of itself behind.

Her knees were weak.

Her chest hollow.

And she knew—without doubt—what had happened.

He had come.

She didn’t remember how.

She hadn’t screamed.

She hadn’t moved.

But he had been there.

His breath in her hair. His weight on her body. His voice—whispering worship while he claimed her again.

A tear rolled down her cheek and into her coffee.

She didn’t notice.

She didn’t drink.

She just stood there, holding the cup like an anchor in a world that had stopped pretending she was free.

Across the Apartment – Later That Morning

Jade rubbed her eyes and opened the apartment’s security app.

She checked the feed from the door camera—routine, barely awake.

And then froze.

There.

2:47 AM.

The camera had caught a figure.

Tall. Still. Barefoot.

He stood outside their door for seventeen minutes.

Not moving.

Then turned his head—slowly—and looked directly into the lens.

Gold eyes.

No glow from streetlights.

No reflection.

Just two molten, ancient lights staring through the screen.

Jade’s breath caught in her throat.

She grabbed Maya’s phone. “You need to see this.”

Jade stood at the edge of the kitchen, the phone still in her hand.

She couldn’t stop staring at the paused frame—the figure at their door, the impossible gold of his eyes glowing from the shadows.

She knew it was real.

And she knew Y/N knew, too.

But she didn’t want it to be true.

Y/N sat curled on the couch, knees hugged to her chest, coffee growing cold beside her. Her skin still felt hot beneath the oversized hoodie. The heat hadn’t faded.

If anything, it was worse.

Deep. Constant. Low in her belly.

Not arousal—something more primal.

Need.

She hated it.

She hated him.

But her body…

Her body remembered. Her body still wanted.

Maya sat beside her, cautious, quiet. “Y/N… did he come back last night?”

Silence.

Then—

“Yes.”

A whisper.

A breath.

Both girls froze.

Jade crossed the room slowly. “He was here?”

Y/N nodded once.

A tear rolled down her cheek.

“He was… inside me. I didn’t move.”

“Did he hurt you?” Maya asked, her voice breaking.

“No,” Y/N whispered. “That’s the worst part.”

They didn’t speak.

Not at first.

Because what do you say to someone who’s been broken and bound, but not physically harmed? Someone whose soul is screaming while her body still aches for the one who did it?

Jade crouched beside her.

“We’re going to stop him,” she said.

“You can’t.”

“We’ll try.”

Y/N looked down at her hands.

“He’s still inside me. I feel him. I feel… hot. Like I’m still in heat.”

Maya covered her mouth.

Jade reached for her hand. “Then we’ll cool you down. We’ll find help.”

But outside—

The clouds had begun to gather.

Far Away – In the Caverns of Flame

Vaeroth stood beneath the mountain, eyes closed, breath deep.

And he felt her speak.

Not her words.

Just the voice.

The sound of her breath shaping syllables again. The moment her silence broke, the bond tugged.

His heat flared.

She was still in cycle. Still open. Still his.

He opened his eyes.

“No more distance.”

He turned to Andre.

“Prepare the gate.”

“She returns tonight.”

The TV flickered across the dark living room—bright colors, a laugh track, a world that didn’t know her.

Y/N sat on the couch, legs pulled close, the blanket clutched around her. Her head throbbed. Her body still pulsed with that low, molten heat. The meds weren’t working.

Maya and Jade had just stepped out. Just for a moment. The corner store two blocks down. Snacks, water, a chance to breathe.

“We’ll lock the door behind us,” Jade had promised. “We’ll be back before the credits roll.”

But the door clicked open anyway.

Y/N’s breath hitched.

The blanket slid from her shoulders.

He stood in the entryway like a shadow taking form.

Vaeroth.

Human-shaped. Ageless. Eyes like gold flame. His long hair fell loose over his shoulders, soaked with rain. He wore black from neck to boots.

But it wasn’t the clothes.

It was the presence.

He filled the room without moving.

She stood slowly, shaking. “How—how did you—”

“You left me,” he said quietly.

“You ran.”

There was no growl. No roar. Just heat simmering behind each word.

She stepped back. “Please—”

“I was gentle with you. I gave you silk. Fire. I whispered to you like you were divine.”

“I didn’t ask for any of it!”

His eyes darkened.

“But you took it.”

He moved faster than she could track—suddenly in front of her, gripping her wrist.

“I gave you my mark,” he snarled. “I bled for you. And you let them hide you from me like I was a curse.”

She yanked her arm. “You are.”

And that was it.

The moment snapped.

His hand struck her across the cheek—fast, sharp, ringing.

She gasped, stumbling, one hand flying to her face.

Silence.

Breathless.

Y/N’s eyes welled, a sob caught in her throat as she held her stinging skin.

And then—

She looked at him.

Wide, broken, burning eyes.

And Vaeroth’s chest hitched.

The fire behind his fury faltered.

He stepped back, stunned by her gaze.

“I didn’t want to—”

She flinched again.

He reached for her—

And stopped.

“Y/N,” Vaeroth said softly, voice cracking.

“I didn’t want to hurt you.”

She backed away, still clutching her cheek. “You already did.”

He stepped forward, hands twitching at his sides, torn between restraint and the storm in his chest. His face was twisted with something unreadable—half remorse, half rage.

“You don’t understand,” he said. “I need you. You were made for me.”

She shook her head, tears spilling now. “No. No, I wasn’t. You took everything—I didn’t ask for any of it—”

“Don’t lie to me,” he snapped. “You felt it. You still do.”

He reached for her.

She twisted away.

“Don’t touch me!”

But he did.

His hand seized her wrist, pulling her into his chest. His mouth found hers, crushing. Too hard. Too rough. His other hand cupped her jaw, holding her there as she squirmed, her fists pushing at his chest, her whimpers muffled by his kiss.

“Stop!” she sobbed, finally breaking away.

He panted, staring at her, his eyes wild.

Then she shoved him—hard.

He stumbled.

She turned to run.

But her ankle caught on the edge of the rug—her body tumbled, hitting the floor hard.

Before she could crawl away, his hands were on her again—gripping her hips, lifting her like a doll, her kicks useless against his strength.

“Let me go—let me GO!”

“I’m taking you home.”

He dragged her toward the window—then changed course, toward the fire escape.

“The roof,” he muttered to himself. “I just need the sky. Just need to shift—”

She screamed.

Fought.

But he was no longer hearing her.

His breath came fast. His muscles trembled.

The veins beneath his skin glowed faintly gold.

He wasn’t human anymore.

“You’re mine,” he growled. “And I’m done asking.”

The wind howled across the rooftop.

Rain had started to fall—cold and sudden, slicing through the sky like the edge of a blade.

Y/N kicked and thrashed in Vaeroth’s arms, her voice hoarse from screaming. He held her like she was nothing—like she weighed less than the storm around them.

“Let me go!” she cried, tears hot on her cheeks. “Please, don’t do this!”

He was shaking—not from effort, but from the transformation trying to burst through his skin.

His eyes were gold.

His fingertips were clawed.

His voice wasn’t fully human anymore.

“I warned you,” he said. “I begged. I kissed you like you were sacred. You spat on it.”

“You HURT me!”

He didn’t flinch. He just looked down at her, his face twisted with rage and something more tragic—like he couldn’t understand why she didn’t see it.

Why she couldn’t just accept it.

Behind them—

“Y/N!”

A voice.

Jade.

Then Maya.

They burst onto the rooftop, soaked from the rain, eyes wide as they saw her—held in arms that shimmered with dragonhide, gold glowing faintly beneath skin.

“Let her go!” Maya screamed, running forward.

Vaeroth turned, his voice deep as thunder. “She’s mine.”

Jade reached for her—but he was already moving.

Wings unfurled from his back, massive, leathery, trailing gold light at the edges. The wind from them sent both girls tumbling back.

Y/N reached for them.

“Help me—please!”

Maya screamed her name.

Jade lunged.

But it was too late.

With a sound like the sky splitting, Vaeroth lifted into the air, Y/N pinned to his chest, her scream tearing through the wind—

“HELP MEEEE—”

And then they were gone.

Swallowed by cloud.

Lightning flashed behind them.

And the only thing left was silence.

[imagine-silk]

i feel like varric is a classic platonic yandere.

do NOT fuck with his friends thank you.

》Honestly he's already halfway there. Also I'm gonna use a Adaar non!inquisitor.

》This has been so long in the making I am sorry TTMTT

He does a lot for his friends. He makes sure Merrill is unbothered by paying off people, even going so far as to pay people as pseudo bodyguards. Helped Anders stay hidden underground and stocked. As much as he teased Carver he made sure prices at the shops he went were more affordable, if you catch my drift. And at the Conclave he shut his mouth at the end of the story. The champion of Kirkwall vanished in the wind. Lie by omission.

Something about you though clicked in his head and rang it like a bell ten-fold. He would die for his friends, yes, but he would kill for you.

A Tal-Vashoth mercenary who was stranded. The reason you were working with them was to cover a debt you owed. So when your company died and you were the only survivor you knew they would tax you for it. There was no doubt they would keep you working for the rest of your life, no matter how long or short it may be. But the so-called Inquisition was housing the homeless and faithful. That included you because going back wasn't an option.

Cassandra used you to help detain Varric so when she saw you among the people she sniffed you out as not a refugee. She was going to throw you out but Trevelyan stopped her and offered you shelter in exchange for work.

It's a funny thing, you were the one to seek him out. You almost tripped over him and ended up jumping over him. He was always a sucker for interesting introductions. The next time you were going to apologize for how you treated him in his detainment.

He quickly realized you were seeking him out because he was a constant to you who never ever showed you ill will. That was the slope to madness.

Going out of his way to talk you was received as well as he thought it would, you were basically vibrating in your seat. After a few times of hearing his stories at the pub you realized what he meant when he said he was a liar, but you told him you found it funny.

He heard someone in Haven dragging the 'Mercenary Qunari' through the mud. See as there was a grand total of seven Qunari at Haven he knew who he was talking about. Suddenly they got the worst chores to do, separately.

Other than him you're pretty isolated. All your friends were dead, no family, and the people who wanted you also wanted you as a slave. For some reason that didn't make him want to make you some friends like he did for Merrill. Your time was his.

You making friends was by no means illegal but he would interfere. Maybe he needs you to read the newest chapter of his murder serial. Or somehow they get extra shifts that make them keep moving. He will never pull the 'I need some company' card but if you see him struggling he won't turn away like he would with others.

After Haven goes down he gets more serious in his attempts to help but also to keep you out of the limelight. The more he gets involved in the Inquisitor's inner circle the more he keeps an eye on you. There is nothing you do he doesn't know about, nowhere you get deployed he didn't allow.

At Skyhold you feel like he's the only real person you can go to and he does his best to reinforce that feeling. "Remember; you always got this friend in your corner."

Cole knows about all of this but because you are happy and so is Varric he doesn't interfere. He does say something to Varric about how this friendship feels different to him, more intense, but Varric dismisses it.

If Hawke is saved he introduces you to them and you two hit it off, Varric guiding the conversation as smoothly as it could go. After Hawke will remark to him in private how he seems very invested in you and he doesn't seem to want to go back to Kirkwall like they thought he would. He dismisses it. If Hawke was left in the Fade he is devastated, truly. When you go to console him he allows it to happen and he doesn't try to use this against you even if it would be really easy. He would let this one go unspoiled.

At the end of it all and he goes back to Kirkwall he takes you there. You might think he asked you but there was never any room for you to deny it. Taking down a Qunari quietly wasn't too difficult for a rogue like him. You would have been asleep in ten minutes and onboard in eight. When you get there you are basically confined to his estate. You're not locked in but he tells you not to go certain places and it's most of Kirkwall. You can go to the Hanged Man and everyone in there knows not to try and hassle you in any way. If they do at least twenty people will stop them.

[More when the new game comes out]

[yanderes-galore]

You don’t even know how hype I am to see DAI on the request list. Would you be willing to do a romantic/platonic Cole concept? Having a yandere who can pretty much read your mind and manipulate your emotions would be so freaky (or it would be if you even knew he was doing it.)

- 📸 anon

Sure! Sorry this took so long, I hope you enjoy this :) Not proofread fully, may have mistakes.

Yandere! Cole Concept

Pairing: Platonic/Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Stalking, Overprotective behavior, Delusional behavior, Clingy behavior, Manipulation, Murder mention, Dubious companionship/relationship.

Cole is another interesting case.

He was once originally a Spirit of Compassion, someone who just wants to help.

This need to help may be a factor that plays into his obsession.

He is obsessive about the idea of helping his darling, feeling deep down they need him in someway.

He never wants to make them forget him.

Cole can be a very caring yandere.

He's compassionate and always ends up following you around.

He genuinely just wants to help care for you and make you happy.

So compared to most... he is a very soft yandere.

He feels he has your best interests at heart.

After all, he just wants to help!

Others who know Cole can tell he adores you.

The way he allows you to remember him, the way he follows you around, he's attached.

Cole always seems to know how you're feeling, he can sense it.

He is also manipulative, but doesn't intend to be all the time.

Cole naturally would be drawn towards an obsession who is going through some sort of painful event.

Trauma, physical pain, near death experience, etc.

Ever since then he's just seemed to stick around.

He reads your mind and emotions often, always intrigued and curious to know how you feel.

Cole could manipulate your mind if he didn't like you doing something too.

Yet he tries not to do it often.

Cole is so sweet with you.

Sometimes he's a bit odd but he feels protective of you.

He considers you a friend, only ever considering you more if he decides to be more human.

He feels rather "innocent" with his intentions.

He prioritizes your happiness and just wants to see you without pain.

He'll do anything to achieve that.

If he accidentally hurts you, he'll make you forget.

Actually, if any hurt comes to you he'll make you forget it ever happened.

All for your own good... all to keep you from being hurt.

Then there's a point his obsession turns devious.

Others may notice Cole is a bit too overprotective and obsessive with you.

They may try to warn you.

But that's okay! Cole will make them and you forget.

If that doesn't work... he'll kill them.

Cole is a yandere who feels he's doing the right thing for his darling.

"The right thing" often includes making you forget certain memories, murder, manipulation, and smothering affection.

Cole loves to see you smile, it means there is no pain.

Pain is a bad thing... he knows that.

He'll do anything to prevent you from being in pain.

Your friends just want to separate you two!

They don't have the same care and compassion Cole feels for you.

Cole loves you in his own way due to his nature.

Why do you cry?

You shouldn't cry while he's here... holding your face with a soft gaze in his eyes.

The issue with Cole is he's... delusional.

He thinks messing with your mind and emotions is going to help you.

He feels you're the happiest with him.

Just rant to him or be vulnerable with him... he'll take care of you.

Others just wish to harm you in his eyes...

Others will just cause you pain...

Cole would do whatever he can to prevent you from feeling pain.

Isolation, affection, etc...

Mercy killing.

Yup, if Cole was cornered or if someone threatened to take you away from him... he'll spare you from pain.

If he can't have you, no one can.

Afterwards, Cole plans to join you in the Fade.

He can keep you happy as a spirit, right?

You may be upset... but he'll help you like he always has.

Killing you may also be helping you in his eyes.

Hopefully Cole won't have to do such a thing.

If he tries hard enough... he doesn't have to do anything like that.

Yet... Cole will do whatever he can to help you since he loves you...

Even go to the extreme.

[drowsybowser]

I am going so feral foaming at the mouth rn bc absolutely no one can convince me that Dorian would not die on the spot after watching Lady Gaga’s 2009 VMA performance of Paparazzi. I am screaming and banging so many walls and floors in my head over this my knuckles are bleeding

[ladyhighever]

so you can have a threesome with alistair and isabela or a foursome with alistair/isabela/zevran but you CAN'T have a threesome with morrigan and alistair for old god purposes? absolutely ridiculous. morrigan's not even straight.