Love Your Writings! What Would Happen If You Put The Children Of The Yanderes (Silas's Daughters, Dr.

ESCAPE -ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

did you really believe it would be that easy to slip away?

cw: gender neutral, yandere, manipulation, wars, violence, possessive behavior, delusional behavior, reader tries to jump in the dreamscape, suggestive, anaxa uses a ball gag :,) 3.1 spoilers in mydei's

sunday `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

something wasn’t right. the extreme sense of deja vu was sickening and it felt as if eyes were on you at all times. the dreamscape was supposed to be a place of comfort and warmth, but all you felt now was anxiety.

of course, your dreams weren’t always like this. the planet of festivities was a guilty pleasure, admittedly. the vast opportunities of the dreamscape was hard to past on.

but now, you needed to wake up.

it didn’t help that there was no one else in your dream, no one but the head of the oak family.

“i think you look most beautiful like this, no? for my eyes only.”

you could hear his voice, but you couldn’t see him.

no matter what corner you turned, no matter what stairs you went up, it was all the same.

why couldn’t you wake up?

“see how you’re living in repeat? how everything is dreading on, nothing new in your dull life?”

you stopped your running, a pounding headache coming on. “g-get out of my head!” it was so frustrating, hearing the same thing over and over.

“i’m not in your head my dear.” there was a sharp intake of silence before you felt a breath on your ear.

“i’m here with you.”

turning around, there was no one there. faintly, you could hear the gentle sound of his laughter, on increasing your headache.

tired of the constant annoyance that was sunday, you decided to take matters into your own hands.

finding the nearest building, one that was high enough, you were quick to ascend its stairs. eventually, you found yourself on the edge of a roof.

“what do you think you’re doing?”

there was a hint of worry in his voice concealed by anger, one you would’ve missed if you hadn’t known sunday for the time you have.

“if you’re not going to let me out, i have to do it on my own.”

his former amusement was no longer present. "you think that's the way out?"

you didn't answer. the wind howled around you, tugging at your clothes, tempting you forward.

"you're being dramatic."

"and you're being insufferable," you snapped, gripping your arms. the weight of his unseen presence bore down on you, making it hard to breathe. "let me wake up."

a pause. then, softly, "i can't."

your stomach dropped faster than you were about to. "what do you mean you can't?"

"i mean exactly that." his voice was closer now, nearly right beside you. "this isn't just a dream anymore."

"i mean exactly that." his voice was closer now, nearly right beside you. "this isn't just a dream anymore."

the world tilted. no, that wasn't right—the dreamscape itself twisted, colors bleeding into each other, buildings warping, the sky cracking like shattered glass.

"what did you do?" you whispered, taking a shaky step back.

a hand, unseen yet unmistakably there, pressed against the small of your back, keeping you from retreating further. sunday's voice curled into your ear, almost tender.

"i simply made sure you'd stay."

your breath hitched. the weight of his words settled over you like a heavy fog, thick and suffocating. "stay?" the word barely left your lips, a fragile whisper against the growing distortion of the dreamscape.

"mm," sunday hummed, the warmth of his unseen touch lingering, a stark contrast to the cold panic flooding your veins. "isn’t that what you wanted? a place where you could escape, where no one could reach you?"

you shook your head, gripping your temples as the headache intensified. "not like this. never like this."

without hesitating any further, you took a step off the roof.

the wind howled in your ears, your stomach lurching as the world blurred around you. the descent was faster than you expected, the colors of the dreamscape smearing together, twisting, unraveling. but the impact never came.

instead, you stopped.

suspended. weightless. trapped.

a pair of arms, unseen yet unmistakably present, wrapped around you from behind, halting your fall as effortlessly as if you had never moved at all. a familiar chuckle ghosted against your ear, low and amused.

"you really thought i'd let you go that easily?" sunday’s voice was steady, but there was something else underneath—something strained.

you thrashed against the hold, but it was useless. the dreamscape rippled around you like a living thing, reshaping itself at his will. the city, the rooftops, the endless stairs—gone. in their place, an expanse of nothingness stretched in all directions, endless and suffocating.

"let me go," you gritted out.

"where would you even go?" sunday murmured, tightening his hold. "there's nowhere else to run, my dear."

the weight of his words settled deep into your bones. this wasn’t just control—this was possession.

"wake me up!" you screamed, twisting in his grasp, trying to break free.

sunday sighed, and for the first time, you swore you could hear something like regret in his voice.

"i told you already," he murmured. "this isn’t a dream anymore. this is your reality.”

anaxa `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

“i must say, we get a long much better when you don’t interrupt me.”

anaxa was an asshole.

that was the only thing you could think as you couldn’t get any words out due to the ball gag currently strapped to your face.

“wouldn’t you agree, [name]?”

his voice was smooth, laced with that ever-present condescension, as if he were merely discussing philosophy over tea rather than reveling in your current predicament. his golden eyes gleamed with amusement, watching you struggle with something between fascination and boredom.

"ah, but i suppose you can't," he continued, tilting his head ever so slightly. "a shame, really. i do enjoy our little debates. but lately, you've been so very insistent on talking back, especially on matters you know nothing about.”

he leaned in, fingers ghosting over your cheek, his touch featherlight but deliberate. "and we simply can't have that, now can we?"

his smile was sharp, predatory. "good conversation requires patience, listening, knowing when to hold one's tongue." he chuckled, tapping a finger against the gag. "though in your case, i had to take matters into my own hands. don't take it personally."

he used one hand to tightly grip your chin, forcing you to look up at him. his finger that was still on the gag pushed it deeper down your throat.

he sighed, “astounding that you were trying to leave me. now look at you, pathetic.”

anaxa’s irritation and anger was clear in his voice.

“you’re lucky i’m patient with you, the gag and restraints should make me seem like a saint.”

he gently tapped the hilt of his gun.

this whole situation was taken out of proportion. you simply wanted to go visit okhema, see people outside of the grove. of course, anaxa didn’t like that.

“you really think the world outside our little haven holds something better for you?” he drawled, his tone laced with contempt. “okhema isn’t some paradise you can just wander into. it’s a chaotic place where nothing is as controlled, as perfect, as we have it here.”

he seemed to take mercy on you as he undid the strap of the gag, taking it out of your mouth delicately.

“you may speak now.”

you almost didn’t want to out of pure spite. “you can’t keep me here forever, it’s inhumane.”

he laughed at that, “what scholar do you know that’s even remotely close to being humane?”

“none because you don’t let me speak to any one else!”

“good answer.” he sent you an approving smile.

he went to undo your restraints, knowing that you won’t try to fight him any more than you already have.

his fingers traced over the red indentations left by the restraints, a slow, deliberate motion that felt more like admiration than remorse. "tch," he clicked his tongue, shaking his head. "see what you've done to yourself? all this struggling, all this nonsense about leaving, and for what?"

his gaze flicked back up to yours, sharp, assessing. "okhema won’t embrace you like i do. it won’t be kind to you. it won’t understand you." his voice dipped lower, softer, as if he were confiding in you rather than reinforcing his dominance. "but you already know that, don’t you?"

he let go of your wrist, allowing your hand to fall limply into your lap. the relief of movement was fleeting; your body ached, stiff from the restraints, throat dry from the gag. but he watched you expectantly, waiting, reveling in the sight of you thinking carefully before you spoke.

good. he'd taught you something, at least.

"i don’t belong to you," you murmured, voice hoarse but steady.

anaxa stilled. then, in a slow, calculated movement, he leaned in, his breath ghosting over your cheek. "no," he murmured, his gloved fingers curling beneath your chin once more, tilting your face upward. "but you don’t belong to them either."

his lips quirked into something almost affectionate, almost. "and that, my dear, is the difference between us. you keep chasing something that doesn’t exist. i, on the other hand"—his grip tightened ever so slightly—"know exactly what’s mine."

mydei `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

it's been too quiet in the fallen kingdom of castrum kremnos.

mydei's decision to fight off the black tide creatures and strife was to come with unrelenting battles and no time for rest. which it has, but the black tide never ceased. it never tired, never strategized. it was relentless in its hunger, mindless in its destruction. so why had it stopped?

his sculpted body lifted from his throne; if it didn't come to him, he'd just have to find it. he focused his attention on his surroundings, listening to anything that could give a clue.

in the distance, there was a faint sound of screaming and footsteps.

someone else was here?

mydei wasted no time to rush to the sounds.

the air was thick with the scent of old blood and decay, yet something new lurked beneath it—an unfamiliar presence, something that did not belong to the black tide.

rounding a shattered archway, mydei caught sight of movement ahead. a figure darted through the crumbling streets, their breath ragged, their cloak tattered from what must have been a long, desperate flight. behind them, the shadows twisted, writhing unnaturally, as if something unseen slithered just beyond his sight.

he was quick to make eye contact with the person, who looked more shocked than him to see another person.

they were too focused on you rather than mydei, which made defeating them rather easy and efficient.

you collapsed as mydei finished off the remaining monsters, tired from the constant running and trying to catch your breath.

"you look like you've never run a day in your life," he remarked, stepping closer.

before you could fire back, he reached out, grasping your wrist and hoisting you up without waiting for permission. your legs wobbled beneath you, exhaustion threatening to pull you down again, but mydei kept you steady.

"who are you? what kind of fool willingly comes here?" he asked, golden eyes studying you with the same sharpness he reserved for threats.

you gritted your teeth, trying to shake off the dizziness that had settled in your head. the last thing you needed was to seem weak in front of this insufferable man, but the endless running had worn you down to the bone. still, you managed to meet his gaze, your voice rough but steady.

"i'm from a distant town in amphoreus. i came to conduct research on my paper... i just didn't think it would be this bad."

mydei scoffed, the corner of his mouth twitching upward in something that wasn’t quite a smile. “research,” he echoed, as if the word itself was a joke. “you risked your life for research?”

his grip loosened, and you stumbled slightly but caught yourself. your body ached, but your pride refused to let you falter.

“i didn’t think i’d be running for my life the second i arrived,” you muttered, brushing dust from your tattered clothes. “the black tide’s aggression was… beyond what the records described.”

“of course it was,” mydei said flatly. “any book written about castrum kremnos is outdated the moment it’s finished. this place is a graveyard that keeps changing its shape.”

"you seem to know a lot about this place. who exactly are you?" now, it was your turn to do the questioning.

mydei tilted his head slightly, amusement flickering behind his golden eyes. "you're bold for someone who was just gasping for breath on the ground."

you crossed your arms, ignoring the lingering ache in your limbs. "and you're avoiding the question."

he let out a quiet chuckle, though there was no warmth in it. "fine," he said, stepping back just enough to put a measured distance between you. "mydeimos. i’ve been fighting the black tide longer than you’ve been writing that little paper of yours."

his eyes flicked toward the ruined horizon, scanning the shifting shadows with the ease of someone who knew this battlefield all too well. “this kingdom—what’s left of it—was mine once.”

your breath hitched. his?

the two of you began to learn more about each other as he brought you back to his throne. it was an unexpected friendship(?) but you were gaining many useful facts for your paper.

the history of this place goes further back than you could imagine.

you even learned more about the famous chrysos heirs you heard about in passing. you eagerly had him tell all his stories about them, making sure not to miss a detail.

it went on like this for a few days; he would fight off the black tide and answer your many questions.

there was a shift, though, when he came back from a battle to you packing your notes.

mydei paused in the doorway, his eyes narrowing as he watched you gather your things. the usual calm demeanor he carried in battle seemed absent now, replaced with something colder, more intense.

"you're leaving," he said flatly, his voice carrying a trace of something you couldn’t quite place—was it annoyance?

you froze, your hands stilling mid-motion as you turned to face him. "i—" you started, but the words felt tangled in your throat.

"i’m almost finished with my research," you admitted, avoiding his gaze as you zipped up your bag. "i can’t stay here forever, especially with the black tide still lingering."

truthfully, mydei had grown quite attached to you. he hasn't had contact with another person for weeks before you came along; and for you to just leave so quickly?

no, he couldn't have that.

he muttered, almost to himself, his voice lowering as he looked away, briefly losing his composure. “no one... no one’s cared to come this far. you...” he paused, and when his eyes met yours again, they were heavy with something you hadn’t expected. “you’re not leaving.”

you took a step back, your breath shaky as mydei’s intense stare bore into you.

“mydei—” you started, but the words faltered on your lips. you wanted to argue, to tell him that you had your own life to get back to, your own reasons for leaving. but the weight of his presence—his intensity—made you hesitate.

he stepped forward, his hand snaking out to grab your wrist with an iron grip, pulling you closer to him in a way that left no room for resistance. "you're not walking out on me," he said, his voice low, almost a growl.

“you came into my life at the worst possible time,” he said, his voice softer, yet thick with something you couldn’t quite name. "you walked into this kingdom, into my mess, and for a second, it felt like... like maybe i wasn’t as alone as i thought."

you realized the black tide was already getting to him, just not in the way it would most.

phainon `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

"you look absolutely gorgeous in the sun. though, i wonder, must you enjoy it without me?"

this was your third day walking out from phainon's grasp.

"why do you insist on following me?" you asked, keeping your voice steady as you continued walking, pretending as though his words hadn’t made your heart skip a beat.

you felt the weight of his gaze, the way it traced every curve of your form, making your skin tingle, making you feel seen in a way you hadn’t wanted.

phainon chuckled, the sound low and dark, a perfect match for the man he was. "follow you? darling, you belong to me. whether you like it or not."

he caught up with you quickly, his long strides making up for the distance you’d put between you. before you knew it, he was beside you, his presence as commanding as the sun itself.

"you think you can leave me so easily?" his voice was a whisper, just enough to make the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. you could feel his eyes on you, even though you refused to meet his gaze.

when you didn't answer, he took it as his sign to continue. "i do enjoy your confidence. you're just so perfect. you must like the chase as much as i. is that what it is, [name]?"

phainon placed a hand over his heart as he felt his face flush.

you felt a flicker of anger surge through you, though it quickly turned to frustration. "this isn't a game," you said, trying to bite back the heat in your voice. "you don’t get to decide what i do, phainon."

phainon’s hand placed itself over his chest again, but this time, it wasn’t just for show. his fingers curled against the fabric, almost as though he was holding back something deeper. "i feel it every time you try to leave me. every step you take away from me."

his voice dropped, smooth and low, like a promise or a threat. "and the more you try to run, the more I want to keep you close."

"you're insane." you couldn't hold back the venom in your voice.

"i'd like to think of it more as being in love." phainon's hand gently took yours, holding you in place.

he kneeled in front of you, bringing your hand to his lips.

his lips lingered on your skin, tracing along the tips of your fingers, sending a shiver through you that you couldn’t ignore. "so go ahead," he whispered, leaning in close, his breath brushing against your hand. "run again. i’ll let you. but just know... i’ll find you."

phainon rose to his feet, still holding your hand gently but firmly, his grip a reminder of the inescapable pull that seemed to draw you to him. "you don't have to make this harder than it needs to be," he murmured, the teasing edge gone from his tone, replaced by something more serious. "i just want you to understand... i will never let you go."

phainon was quick to shift his personality back to easygoing. "you've been out here long enough; care to join me for a bath?"

you knew there was no changing his mind. "...could we get something to eat after?"

phainon’s smile widened, a glint of satisfaction in his eyes as if he had already won some unspoken victory. "of course," he said smoothly. "i can even bathe and feed you. you must be tired after such a long day."

the familiar blush crept up his face, one he didn't care to hide. just the thought of being able to touch your body and be that close to your lips was exhilarating.

i loved writing mydei's, i might have to make another scenario with it 🤔🤔

Own you

God!yandere x y/n

Summary: you try to run away from a God, but underestimate his power

Warnings: blood, mentions of needles and knives

Word count : 0.6k

[before we start, I want to say that this god has nothing to do with any religion, it's my own creation and only for fun! It is not meant to offend anyone♡]

How could you ever think that you could escape? Don't you know that he knows everything, sees everything? Your human legs carry you the quickest they can throughout the forest. You have no idea where you are or how you got here, but you knoe he has something to do with it. You remember being in his weird palace and opening a door and ... suddenly ending up here. Wherever this is.

You're barefoot. The ground hits you like lego under your feet. The strong wind tries pulling you back to him, but you refuse to succumb. You have to keep on going.

The wind starts going two ways, capturing you in the middle. Your hair flows around your face and vocers your vision. But you can't give up. You can't submit.

Snow starts falling from the cloudy sky. It's summer, it shouldn't snow. You know it's all his work. And it's a clever one this time. Knowing your clothes are way too thin to keep you warm in a blazing snowstorm keeps you from running. You close your arms around you and continue walking. The icy snowflakes clash against your bare skin like knives and needles. It's not a friendly snowstorm he's unleashed upon you. You want to scream in pain, but if you do, you'll get the sharp snowflakes in your mouth and risk cutting your throat.

After a few minutes of walking, you sink down on your knees in the snow. Your legs can't carry you anymore. Sobbing erupts from your throat. Your tears freeze on your cheeks. You look down and notice how your skin has gotten marks after the harsh snoflakes. What were they made of? Glass shards?

"Please stop!" you shout. "It hurts!"

You lay down with your face down and arms over your head to protect your eyes. You can't move anymore. It hurts too much and your body is too cold and weak. All you can do is cry in pain.

"Learned your lesson?"

You peak up and see the godly figure standing in the middle of the storm. He looks down at you, golden eyes scanning you. He kneels down and places his warm hand on your cheek, melting the frozen tears. You lift your cold, trembling hands and place them on his chest, needing warmth. He can regulate his body temperature to whatever you need. You can no longer feel your body.

He removes your hands. You try to protest, but nothing comes out of your mouth. It's like your voice has frozen too.

"You don't deserve my warmth until you've begged for forgivness and promise to never leave me again", the god says. "Do it."

"I-I'm sorry", you stutter and reach out for him again. "I'll n-never do it a-again!"

He tilts his hands and pick off a frozen tear from your cheek. he studis it and scoffs.

"How could you ever think that you could run away from me, human?" he asks. "I know everything there is to know. You didn't think I'd know where you were? You didn't think I'd find you? You belong to me, human and no one can keep you from me. I own this world and everything in it. I own you."

You start to lose your hearing. The god hugs you and lets you look for warmth in his arms. The snowstorm arounds you start to disappear and the summer warmth seeps back.

"Darling, look", the god whispers and nods up at the sky.

You look up and see a rainbow dancing across the blue sky. You can't help but gulp in adoration.

"I made it just for you", the man continues and kisses your temple. "I can give you everything. I can give you the stars. Literally. I will give you everything as long as you stay with me and never try this again. Now, let's go home, dearest. You need to rest."

Questions

CW: gore & blood It all will end where it began - at Snake Meadow Hill Church Love letter for @zzoupz John loves you AU

Don't be afraid, preacher. I hear His voice loud and clear now. He's welcoming you. And so do I. It's our last opportunity to talk before my Ascension. So ask, don't make Him wait

What you want to ask about?

John You don't recognise my face, Miller? I'm John Thomas Ward, a servant of His, just like you. I condemned myself to God since young age and, under guidance of father Garcia, learned true ways of preaching and serving His will. I was priest of false church before you, cowards, threw me away from God's home. But I hold no anger.

Snake Meadow Hill Church Too predictable, isn't it? Sentimental even. I was thinking the same when we moved here. Still, this place more fitting than anything: it's cradle of my own faith.

What you want to ask about?

Horned twins Ah, will-o-wisps. You're not the first whom they brought here. My apologize if they caused you any trouble. I couldn't deny them their fun.

"Him" I see. You forgot for whom you've been praying to. Don't be ashamed: you're not the first or last one to went astray. Recall: Him is above, the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. If only you weren't so afraid, you would hear His voice though mine.

What you want to ask about?

Lisa Pearson Made not for caring His will on her shoulders, but for guide us towards it. A sinless lamb, iconographer, send to us long ago even before I knew my destiny. She was closer to absolute pureness that anyone of us could get. She was the one whom Initiation you interrupted, but it doesn't metter now. Everything went according to plan. She's with Him now, speaking with us from above.

The Ascension The Ascension isn't some bloody mess as you describe in church guidelines. It's delicate, precise process of hard work. And in the end - He grands His blessing. Firstly, one must clean themselves from any sin. For each sin there's way of redemption. Not just penance: for pride, lust and warth - mortification of flesh, for greed - poverty of monkhood, for envy - condemnation to another, for gluttony - everlasting fest, for sloth - work. Cleaning can take years… But you will know when you're ready.

Then comes the Ascension. No need to describe - you about to witness it. Participate, even.

Oh, how nice of you were to visit us today.

Til death do us part

Yandere!mafia oc x reader

Summary: A summer romance turns dark as Silas can't accept that you've married someone else

Warnings: kidnapping, murder, blackmail, threats, Silas belittling darling, violence, isolation, jealousy, possessiveness

Word count: 5k

He’s everything you could have ever wanted. He’s sweet, caring and works at a bank. He can provide for you. He’s from a good family. Everything about him is perfect, everything you could ever have dreamt of. You could never have imagined that you would find a man like him after what happened last summer. 

You had met a man on the way home from dinner with a friend, someone that had helped you after the grocery bag you had bought food in on the way home. He had introduced himself as ‘Silas’ and had walked you home, carrying the groceries for you. You had thanked him. Silas had asked if you wanted to meet for coffee sometime, and you had agreed, innocently thinking nothing of it. You had gone out with him multiple times. Never actually becoming a couple, but acting like it. It was harmless, you thought. You kissed, went on dates and you knew that if things continued like this, you’d fall for him. 

But you noticed that something was weird about him, and it made you feel cautious in his presence. He never told you anything about his life and when you asked, you noticed that something shifted in his dark eyes. As if he tried to come up with a lie. It creeped you out somehow, because why couldn’t he tell you? Maybe you shouldn’t have trusted a man who tried to cover up his tattoos.

You finally got to know the truth at the end of the summer. A friend who had seen the two of you together had recognised him from a newspaper. He was a criminal, a leader of a mob, who was more dangerous than you could have anticipated. You had cut contact with him and moved away so that he wouldn’t be able to find you again. 

But he did. Somehow, he did. 

Letters have been piling up in your mailbox during these last few weeks, addressed to you and written in red ink. Your heart had stopped when you read the first one. 

“Y/N, I’ve missed you. I’ve missed you so terribly much. My heart bleeds and aches for you. You left me because you were scared. I get that. I get that very well, this is a world you should be afraid of, but I will protect you. I will take care of you better than that man ever could. Yeah, I know that you’ve found someone new. I know that you’re planning to get married. Quite quick, don’t you think? You haven’t known him that long, and now you’re getting married? Silly Y/N, you’re so cute. Do you really think you love him? Are you trying to reassure yourself that I’m a part of your past that will never return? Or are you trying to make everyone around you believe that you’ve gotten over me and moved on? I know you still think of me. I know you want me. And I want you too. I have never wanted someone other than you. You and me are meant for each other. Don’t marry him. Come back to me. It’s you and me til the end.”

You hadn’t shown your fiance, but he had noticed that something had been wrong with you. You had become silent and distant. Letter after letter came to your mailbox and he realized that something serious had happened. You had no choice but to tell him about Silas and your past with him, the present he doesn’t want to let go of, and the future he demands. Your fiance had promised that he wouldn’t get to you, and that he was only trying to scare you. 

You had been expecting to see Silas at your wedding, but he wasn’t there—or at least you didn’t catch a glimpse of him. Maybe your husband was right? Maybe he was just trying to scare you?

The start of the honeymoon is set to be on the SS Anastasia, a proud liner with three yellow funnels, a solid superstructure and a great reputation. It is set to take the two of you to Spain, where you have decided to have the rest of your honeymoon, away from all eyes and to be with no one but each other. 

A steward welcomes you on board. You thank him and give him a smile. He lets you know that your luggage, which you left down at the terminal, will be delivered straight to your cabin, a suite in first class. Only the best for the newlywed couple.

“I’m so excited to see the room”, you admit as the two of you navigate the ship to find the mani staircase. 

“The agent said that it would be nice”, your husband replies and chuckles. “Now, if we only could find it …”

You laugh. It takes you nearly ten minutes to find the right door among mazes of identical white doors. The suite is divided into three rooms: a bedroom, a sitting room and a bathroom, all decorated with expensive materials and fashionable colors. Polished dark wood and electric lights. 

“This is so nice”, your husband smiles, letting his eyes wander around. “I think we’ll have a good time here.”

You hug him and he chuckles, hugging you back. 

“I can’t believe I married you”, he says. 

Me neither, you think. 

Your mind drifts back to Silas and you feel your heart sink down to your stomach. You won’t be able to relax until you know that the ship has left harbour. There’s a constant, heavy feeling in your chest that you can’t explain. But you tell yourself that it’s just that; a feeling. Nothing more than old worries that haven’t been able to come up to the surface before now. You squeeze the man tighter, sighing out. You’re going to be okay. You’re going to be safe. 

You have been promised a fantastic dinner, and the food delivers to your expectations. Everything is tasting like gold, served on a silverplatter. Sitting in the first class dining hall has given you an excuse to dress up. Everyone around is wearing their best clothes, and it is a silent competition in who looks the best. You look around, discreetly admiring everyone else’s attention to detail. You wonder how many of them have spent the entire day in their cabin, doing everything to look their absolutely best. The first night is usually relaxed, but a first time impression will always be remembered. 

“What would you like to do after?” your husband asks and sips on his wine. 

“I think I need to take a walk”, you joke. 

“Oh, yes, the night sky must be so beautiful out on deck. I reckon that you’ll be able to see the stars much easier out here. No city pollution.”

You walk hand in hand down the promenade, looking up at the starry night sky, pointing at familiar shapes. 

The next morning, after breakfast, the two of you walk to the lounge, deciding to take a calm day. Well deserved after planning a wedding and executing it. The lounge is cozy, reminding you of a simple living room rather than a first class room on an oceanliner. Maybe to make the passengers feel more at home.

Your husband takes the opportunity to indulge in a newspaper, finally having the time to sit down and actually read it.

You let your eyes wander around the large lounge, enjoying to admire the small details that give the room it’s cozy feel. But the feeling is quickly switched once your eyes land on someone. A man sitting in an armchair on the other side of the lounge, dark eyes feasted onto you, a small smirk playing at his lips when he notices you noticing him. You can feel your body go numb, feel yourself sink through your armchair, through the floor and through the ship’s metal. Feel yourself sink down to the bottom of the pitch black ocean. You forget how to breathe, head going blank. 

He found you.

You glance towards your husband who’s still invested in today’s news. Silas raises his eyebrows testingly as you look back at him, as if to say “yes, I’ve noticed him, you think he compares to me?”. 

Suddenly the air in the lounge seem to lose all oxygen. You need air, or else you will faint. 

“I-I have to get some fresh air”, you hear yourself mumble. 

“Are you okay?” your husband asks and looks up from his newspaper, eyes full of worry. 

“Yes—”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“N-No, I’ll be fine, I’ll be back soon.”

You need to get away. 

You hurry out of the lounge and out onto the enclosed promenade. The fresh air hits your face harshly. You grab onto the wall to support yourself while trying to find a way to breathe that doesn’t feel like needles poking through your throat. 

“You thought I wouldn’t find you?” 

You feel your heart stop. Quickly, you spin around, seeing his face way too close to yours. He tilts it, almost mockingly. You back away, stumbling over your feet and hitting your shoulder against the wall. Silas corners you, stopping you from escaping. 

“What do you want?” you breathe out shakingly. 

“Didn’t you get my letters?” he asks. “Or did you simply not read them?”

“Leave me alone. I-I’m married now.”

He smirks, tilting his head back and putting his hands into the back pockets of his suit pants.

“Indeed, you are”, he says and sighs out. “But do you really think that’s real?”

“What do you mean?” you almost stutter. 

Silas meets your eyes. He’s smiling. 

“Don’t you think I could have taken you whenever I wanted?” he asks. “The only reason you were able to marry that boring son of a bitch is because I let you. But, in the end, you belong to me. Isn’t that right?”

You don’t answer. You turn your head away, look out over the endless sea, and feel your eyes fill with tears. He wipes your tears with his thumb and you push his hand away. 

“I don’t”, you say, wondering where you have gotten the sudden bravery from. “I don’t belong to you. I belong to him.”

You show him the ring on your finger. Silas clenches his jaw and grabs a hold of that hand, forcing it closer. He pulls of the golden ring, scoffs at it and throws it overboard. You gasp and try to run forward, hoping to catch it before it falls too far, but he pushes you back against the wall. 

“Don’t ever say that again”, he warns you. “You don’t belong to him, how could you? I met you first. I claimed you first. He will have my seconds. Everything you do to him, you’ve done to me first. And he will never do anything as good as I did.”

“I left you because of this!” you hiss, reminding him. 

“No, you left me because you were scared. You don’t understand that you are in more danger if you aren’t with me. I’m the only one that can protect you. I didn’t want you to know about it because I know you’d be scared, but—”, he cups your cheeks, forcing you to look at him, “—but I won’t hurt you. You’re so special to me. I love you so much. You did read my letters, I can see it in your eyes. You know how much I love you.”

“Let me go”, you plead. 

“No. It’s you and I til the end, don’t you remember? I’m not letting you go again. I’ve been letting you have your fun for too long now. It’s about time I take you back. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Don’t hurt him either.”

You can see his eyes darken, his jaw clench. “You decide if it’s going to be violent or not.”

You freeze in his hold. 

“You can choose to come back to me, quietly and easy”, Silas starts and caresses your cheek. “We will be happy and your boy will be left alone.” He traces your jaw with his finger. “Or … you reject me and I take out my competition and take you with me once we reach Spain. No one will see you again.”

He seems to tell that you’ve stopped breathing, because he sits you down on one of the sun chairs and massage your throat. Your eyes are stuck onto nothing, empty. 

“I will give you until nine”, he whispers in your ear. “If you’re not outside my cabin at nine, A-30, knocking on my door, I will kill him.”

“You’re a liar”, you breathe out, voice barely audible. “You’ll kill him either way …”

Silas shrugs simply. “Maybe, but don’t you want to take your chances? You might save him.”

Silas stands up. You sit frozen. 

“Oh, and Y/N?” he says as if remembering something and looks down at you. “If I were you I wouldn’t tell anyone. You know, for obvious reasons.” 

He gives you a small, teasing smile before walking back inside. You sit still, not daring to move. Worried that if you move you’ll break down and realise what’s going on. You can feel your heart pound in your ears. No. No, this can’t be happening.

“What are you doing out here?” you hear a familiar voice ask. “You’re going to get sick!”

You feel your husband hang his blazer over your shoulders. The warmth, the familiar scent from him makes your heart hang heavy in your chest. You can’t help but feel like you’ve betrayed him, as if you’ve cheated your relationship, thanks to Silas’s threat. But if you cheat on it, you might save the love of your life. Can you cancel out a bad thing with a bad thing? Is it really a bad thing then? Can you be excused? 

You can’t tell him about it, but if you did, would he understand you?

“You don’t look well, actually”, he says and helps you stand. “You’ve probably already gotten sick. You should go lay down and rest.”

He helps you, slow and steady, to your suite. You lay down in bed and he tucks you in. 

“Should we ring for a steward?” he asks worriedly. “Ask for some tea and some medicine?”

“No, I’m fine”, you reassure him dimly. “I just need to be alone.”

“I’m worried about you. Something happened to you. I can help you.”

No, you can’t.

“Do you want to be left alone?” he asks. 

What if he gets killed?

“No, stay in here”, you wish. 

He nods. You hold his hand as you lay with your eyes closed, trying to think of what to do. He was clear; whatever you do, you’ll end up with Silas. The only thing you can choose—maybe—is to save the man holding your hand and whispering reassurance to you. The nicest you can do, in this situation, is to give in and beg Silas to leave him alone. You can’t be prideful and let him kill him. 

You find yourself outside cabin A-30 with your head spinning. You don’t want to do this, but what choice do you have? Your first is heavy when you lift it to knock, the sound of your knuckles hitting the polished wood seeming to echo throughout the entire ship. You can hear his footsteps on the other side and see him tower over you when he opens the door. His smirk sends a wave of nausea over you. 

“So, you came in the end”, he says cockily. “Good girl/boy.”

You lower your eyes to the floor. Silas steps aside and gestures for you to walk in. You do, on heavy, unresponsive legs. He closes the door behind you, locking it. You gulp. He lingers around you like a snake and you wait for him to put his fangs into your neck and shoot his venom into you. 

“You should rest”, Silas says softly and wraps his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Let’s go to sleep.”

He leads you to the bed and lays you down, lying down behind you. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t do anything that could scare you. You try to keep it in, but your body fails you. Sobs, quiet at first, leave your body. Tears run down your face. You hold your hand over your mouth, but Silas is close enough to hear you. He hugs you carefully and you can feel him rest his face into your shoulder. 

“There’s no need to worry”, he whispers. “You're back where you belong.”

It only makes you worry more.

“Your crying makes me so sad”, Silas whispers. “Everything will be okay, little thing. You're back now.”

You don't fall asleep that night, and you're sure Silas doesn't either. His grip on you remains tight and controlling, showing no sign of drowsiness.

The sun rises outside the porthole, and you're as wide awake as ever. Silas gets out of bed and starts to dress for the day. You remain in bed, feeling too empty to move. Your eyes fall onto the tattoos on his back and arms, wondering where he got them and what they represented. But something in you tells you that you don’t want to know.

“My darling”, Silas sighs and crouches down in front of the bed, caressing your face. “You don’t need to look so sad. You and me will have fun. We can do more than you ever could with that boy of yours could. My credit card never declines.”

“What are you talking about?” you ask, frowning. 

“Oh? You didn't know?” His cocky face is getting on your nerves. “My men did some digging into him, and it seems like he spent a fortune on this honeymoon of yours. Barely anything left in his bank account. Poor thing was really trying to impress you, but the illusion would be all gone once you came back home. I, on the other hand, have all the money in the world.”

“Your money’s dirty.”

“Money’s money. I could launder it, and it’d be clean, but you wouldn’t accept it anyway. Which is why you’ll never get money from me. You’ll get jewelry, food, clothes—anything you want—and all you need to do in return is submit yourself to me.”

You sigh and look away. 

“We don’t have to talk about this now”, Silas says and stands up. “But you will submit to me, I know you will. Get dressed now, my love, we’re going to eat breakfast.”

Food is the last thing you want right now. 

“I’m not hungry”, you say. 

“Do you want to stay in?” he asks. “I can go get you breakfast that you can eat later.”

You nod, whatever will make him leave you alone for a while. Silas gives you a comforting smile and pets your head before leaving the cabin. You take the time to cry, when you know that he can’t see you, planning to stop before he returns, but failing. 

“Crying when you think I won’t notice?” he asks and scoffs, just a little bit amused. “Do you think I wouldn’t notice?”

He sets down a tray on the table in the room and walks over to the bed, crouching down and wiping your tears. 

“You’re mine”, he says. “Crying about that boy won’t change that fact.”

You don’t answer.

“Will I have to stay in here the entire time?” you ask coldly.

“No”, he says. “Not all the time, but if you want to leave the cabin, you will be by my side. If I were you, I wouldn't try to run away from me or try to tell anyone, because the ship is filled with my men. You don’t know who they are, and they won’t bother you if you behave, but the second I tell them to keep an eye out for you, they will.”

You glare at him.

“But you wouldn’t do that, would you?” Silas asks. 

“And then what?” you counter. “When we're in Spain?”

“Oh, we're not staying there. I'm not allowed there. My second in command is waiting for us there and will take us back to America as soon as we arrive.”

Oh …

“I don’t want to go back. Not with you.”

“Well, life's not fair, little thing. You should eat now. I got you all the things you told me that you liked.”

He takes you to the table in the cabin and starts to feed you the bread, the coffee and fruit. You eat, just you comply, too tired to fight with him. Fighting with a wall would be easier. A wall wouldn't talk back. A wall wouldn't threaten you.

“See how much easier it is when you obey?” Silas says.

You give him a quick gaze. He traces your cheek with his fingers. 

“I look so much forward to having you all to myself”, he mumbled. 

His words send icy shivers down your back. 

You stay in the cabin the coming day. You wonder what your real husband is thinking of your disappearance. Sure that Silas has already done something to make him stay away … or worse.

“You're so down, baby”, Silas says. “How about we do something, hm? We have a whole ship to our amusement. There is a game room, a pool, a library, and a squash court. How about that? Why don't we play some squash?”

You nod, just to get out of the cabin. Maybe you can figure something out. Maybe you can hide.

“That's my boy/girl”, Silas says and takes your hand. “Let's go.”

Walking out with him, hand in hand, made you feel horrible. He looked so proud, so cocky. 

He took you down to the squash court. He picked up a racquet and bounced a few balls. 

“I hope you know the rules”, Silas said with a chuckle. “Or else I will win.”

A man came into the squash court. Silas gave the man a quick, stern look before glancing towards you, and then back at him. This is one of his men, you figure. 

“Give me a second, darling”, he says and takes the man aside. 

They turn their backs to you, whispering. You glance towards the door. As they mumble about something incoherent, you sneak towards the door, opening it silently and sneaking out. You run, but only get a few meters before a hand rips you back. 

“Where do you think you're going?” Silas hisses in your ear.

He slams a hand over your mouth to prevent you from making any sounds and almost you back to the squash court. 

“I apologize”, he mutters to his man. “Seems like my baby here can't behave.”

He holds your back firmly against his chest, hand resting securely over your mouth. “They'll learn soon enough, once they learn the consequences.”

You fight against him, but he doesn't budge.

“Stop fighting”, Silas hisses and turns to his man. “I'm sure it won't happen again, ill make sure it won't, but can you tell the others to keep an eye out for this disobedient little shit? If you ever see them wander around alone, you get me immediately. Leave us now, I need to lecture them.”

The man nods, bows slightly and leaves the squash court. Silas lets you go and you back away from him, but he's quick to corner you.

“You don't get it, do you?” he asks, and sounds a tad bit amused. “You can't escape me. And, come on, trying to do that on a ship? I really thought you were smarter than that. Where would you go? The only place you could flee would be to jump overboard. But you're stupid, not suicidal. And now, all my men keep an eye out. Just accept that your place is here, with me.”

“I want my fucking husband!” you scream. “You aren't my husband, you're a low life criminal!”

Silas’s eyes darken.

“Okay then”, he says, slowly. “If you want him so badly, go look for him. Go find him. If you do, I'll let you go with him. If not, you're mine.”

“Your men will take me back to you.”

“I'll tell them to leave you as long as you don't talk to anyone. Search everywhere. Go to the lower classes, for all I care.”

“What have you done to him?”

He smiles slightly, but it's not one out of genuine happiness, but of mockery. “Do you really want to know?”

You turn around and leave. He follows you. You barely have time to walk down the corridor before a man takes a hold of your arm. A different man from before.

“You're not supposed to walk around”, he says.

“It's okay”, Silas says a few steps behind you.

He wears his chin high, a smirk on his face and his hands in his front pockets. You rip your arm from the strange man's hold.

“My baby is using their brain”, Silas says and reaches the two of you. “We'll see where that gets them. Keep an eye so that they don't talk to anyone. We don't want to encourage talking to strangers, now do we, little thing?”

You glare at him.

“Go, then”, Silas says. “What are you waiting for?”

You don't like how he's changed. Just five minutes earlier he was set on making sure you wouldn't wander … and now he encourages it. Something has happened to your husband and you want to find him as quickly as possible.

You walk away, leaving Silas and his man in the corridor outside the squash court. You're not sure where to start. As soon as you get out of their sight, you stop and sink down alongside the wall. Needing to just catch your breath.

But you don't linger too long. Before you change your mind, you stand up and start to walk. You end up walking back and forth for hours, sure that every eye that lands on you is a member of Silas’s organization, someone being paid to make sure you obey.

You search every little corner on the ship, but your husband is nowhere to be seen. Your suite is empty, but there are signs of struggle. A glass lying on the floor, more than one person's shoe marks on the carpet. You walk over to his suitcase and take out one of his shirts. Crying as you hold it.

“Any luck?” you suddenly hear him say.

Your blurry eyes dart to the open door, seeing him lean against the frame with his arms crossed over his chest. He looks so nonchalant, so careless. How can he?

“There are words for people like you”, you sniffle with a voice draped in hate. “Did you know that?”

“What word?”

“Inhuman.”

Silas scoffs out a small smile. “If only you were as smart with thinking as you were with words, you’d have figured it out by now.”

“What?”

“You haven’t found him anywhere on the ship, and you’ve been looking for hours.”

He doesn’t have to remind you. Your aching feet is enough to make you feel your loss.

“What did you do to him?” you ask weakly.

“I have already told you, if you listened to me, you’d figured it out earlier. I said that there is only one way to escape me.”

Your eyes widen as you dart your eyes to the round porthole. 

“Atta girl/boy”, Silas says, voice smooth as honey as he walks over to you.

“Y-You … y-you …”

“Don’t look at me. I didn’t do it.”

“You ordered it.”

“Are we back to the ‘dirty money’ thing again? Does it matter if I gave the instructions or not? It happened, and even if I said I gave the instructions, you wouldn’t take it.”

You hang your head heavy in your hands, crying. Silas hugs you and you try to fight back, but he doesn’t let you go. He holds you tightly, his rough hands keeping you against his body. 

“Now that he’s gone, you have no other choice than to accept me whole heartedly”, he whispers in your ear. “You have no one else. Only me. Until the end of time, til death do us part.”

You sob in his hold, wanting nothing more than to escape. You manage to glance towards the porthole. 

Silas holds your hand in a tight, painful grip as you walk off the ship, surrounded by a few of his men. People on the dock cheer and welcome their loved ones, but you’re pulled right through the crowd. You can’t hear any of them, your own sorrow drowning out all sounds of happiness. Silas takes you over to a car. A black haired man leans against it, but stands straight when he sees Silas. His second in command. 

“Boss, there you are”, he says with a small smile. “Did you have a good voyage?”

Silas lifts your tightly intertwined hands with a smirk on his face. “What do you think?”

The second in command looks at you up and down and smirks. “Congratulations.”

“I wish we could stay here but if the cops get me I’ll be in trouble”, Silas says and pulls you close. “Let’s go to the yacht before we’re noticed.”

He helps you into the automobile and you’re off, on the way to the ship that will take you back to America. Tears run down your face silently. You shut them, trying to imagine yourself in another place, somewhere far away from Silas and his evil entourage. Somewhere where you had never crossed paths with him. Somewhere where things had turned out different. A bump in the road forces your eyes open again and you’re pulled back into the car that will take you straight to your own personalized hell, with a man who is ready to kill for you. You wish you had never allowed him to carry your groceries. 

(Apologies if I accidentally misread & requests are closed - English is my 2nd language 😳)

Please, I'm begging, please - requesting a story with Idris and a fem!y/n. Where y/n finds out they are pregnant with Idris's child & their overprotective instincts go into overdrive & they say "I'm escaping, no way is my child going to be raised with that monster!"

yan!king x fem!preg!reader TW: unbalanced relationship dynamics, mentions violence, mentions death, infantilization, domestic abuse, minors DNI

—

You puked in the toilet, grateful that no one was around to see the upheaval of what you had just had for lunch. It was hard to hold it down as he spoke. Your face was most likely tight, and your smile was more of a grimace as you fought to maintain a neutral expression, but the moment you were released to do what you wanted, you all but ran to your room to release the contents in your stomach.

Attempting to back away, your hands slapped the edge of the toilet bowl as you felt your body lurch once again before you were gagging and food was expelling itself from your body like a plague. 

Worried thoughts crawled over you. 

Did you remember to lock the door? If someone came in to witness this, how would you convince them that nothing was wrong? Convince them not to call the doctor to give further proof of what you didn’t want to believe. Of what you didn’t want to find out. 

You were pregnant. 

All the signs were there, but you ignored them. You closed your eyes and prayed to the Mother that it was a trick of the mind, a figment of your imagination. Your period was late because it just does that sometimes. You would get it. Even if two days, two weeks, a month passed by with no sign. This sickness was just a bug you caught from spoiled food. Even if it came no matter what you ate. 

You told yourself whatever you needed to rationalize the situation. You weren’t hiding your symptoms from the maids or from Idris for any particular reason. You just didn’t want them to worry about it. About you. It would pass, and everything would be alright. 

But it was harder to convince yourself of that as time passed, as you thought of what his expression would look like when you began to wear baggier clothes until your stomach swelled to the point where you couldn’t hide it anymore. When you felt kicks that would give you an undeniable sign of the life growing within you. When it was too late. 

You didn’t want to get pregnant. 

Not by him. Not now. Especially not here. 

Not with maids who treated you as if you should be grateful to your lover. The lover who showered you in gold and gifts. The lover who would go to any lengths to please you. The same lover who murdered your family and reminded you of it anytime you tried to pull away from him. It was your fault, he would whisper despite giving the order. 

His interest was your fault. His obsession, his tyranny, and the consequences if you didn’t answer every whim with unflinching obedience would always be your fault. And this child would be the icing on top of your shackled cake. . 

You couldn’t imagine Idris as a loving father. Not a true one, anyway. Not when he’d killed everyone you held dear and his own father when he couldn’t have his way. He would smile at your child, hold them, laugh, beautiful and radiant as he always was, but the moment you stepped out of line it was their life he would use to threaten you. 

He’d mentioned making the mistake of taking everyone you held dear too quickly because he no longer had anyone to threaten you with. The only remorse he felt was his own short-sightedness that you didn’t remain docile for as long as he’d hoped. 

And you could only imagine the eyes. 

They’d follow you up and down the corridor, their whispers traveling to cut your ears no matter how fast you’d waddle, walk, or run. 

A bastard child, they would call it. 

An abomination. 

They would claim the father came from unknown origins despite knowing no one would be brave or stupid enough to touch you, knowing the punishment in store if the King ever found out. But it wasn’t you, you were worried about. 

You could only imagine their fake smiles, plastered as they cooed at your baby before their expressions melted into disgust, calling you an upstart and your child an unlovable leech. Their words would pander for approval even as they plotted to destroy you the first moment they got. It was the same people who would comfort you if something ever happened to your child, knowing full well that the blood was on their hands. The same people who would laugh as they washed their hands of assassination attempts, tying up loose ends so things would never be traced back to them. A rival faction, a jealous maid, any and every excuse valid except those pointed in their direction. 

You couldn’t do it. 

You couldn’t stay knowing the kind of life you would be raising your child into. You couldn’t stand to see them look at their father with love and admiration despite the things he did and was still doing with unflinching ease. You couldn’t bear to see them grow up to become just like them—like him. 

You didn’t want to see the look in his eyes when he found out. 

You didn’t want to know if shock would turn into joy that would morph into raving glee at his new bargaining chip. Or if he didn’t care for an addition to your disjointed family. Choosing to feed you drugs that would take care of the problem quietly or allow you to have the child raised out of sight to strengthen his political standing. 

How lucky you were to want for nothing. 

But you wanted to give this child a normal life. A happy one, full of unadulterated laughter. You didn’t want this child walking on eggshells, torn between temporary peace or isolated happiness. It wasn’t something you could offer here. 

Your child had the chance to live in a luxury that not many others could even hope to dream about, but you would run as far away from it as possible if it meant they didn’t have to learn that all things that shined weren’t gold. That their father, the king, was a monster hiding behind sweet words and a smile. They wouldn’t learn that love required obedience. That affection, consideration, and care were only reciprocal for those of value. 

You had to run. While you still could, you had to run. 

Idris would be angry. There was no doubt in your mind that he would try to drag you back, treat you like a stupid, troubled thing that didn’t understand what you were doing. A foolish mistake was all he would amount your disappearance to before attempting to placate you with false promises or violent threats, whichever worked, but that didn’t matter. 

He hadn’t noticed that anything had changed; at least, you hoped he didn’t. You’d slowly been gathering things he wouldn’t miss if they suddenly disappeared to barter with when you finally escaped, and now was the perfect time to collect your stash and escape on a random afternoon. 

You almost felt bad for the maids who would have to deal with his anger when he found out that you were missing, but then again, they never seemed to care, no matter how many bandages covered your body after one of his fits of rage. Some of them went so far as to lock the door so they wouldn’t have to hunt you down and drag you back to his mistreatment. 

Dragging yourself from the bathroom floor, you flushed the toilet as you wiped the side of your mouth. Placing a hand on your stomach, you couldn’t help but clench it into a fist. 

Your bleeding heart would dry up. 

Hii! Can I please request some yan Dottore with a newly kidnapped reader?🩷

“PRIMUM NON NOCERE” / DOTTORE.

Summary: You’ve been rejecting Dottore’s offer to work for him, not at all flattered by his proposal. That’s why he decides to bring you to him instead.

contents: gender neutral reader / yandere / kidnapping / gore / drugging / reader is forced to participate in human experimenting / panicked suicide attempt / generally anything bad that could come with Dottore’s character. word count: 3.1k

note: I hope you don’t mind I revamped the idea a little :) I thought this would make an interesting plot, and it’s still about how you are being treated after being kidnapped.

In your career as a quirky doctor with more unconventional methods that have landed you an infamous reputation, you had quickly learned how to abandon any visceral attachment to your patients and focus on the gruesome reality of what sometimes needed to be done is specific circumstances — “hurting” your patients in name of their survival was more important than weeping for their woes of pain, and when they have to go, you let them.

This could never imply you had derived yourself of any care, nor that your patients were just a bags of flesh for you to work on, something The Doctor sending his agents after you could be conjecturing, if their deliveries were in the form of invitations from him to join him in his projects — going against any ethics you had as a healer, and the oath you’d sworn to uphold to when beginning your practice.

When you first published your own article about the usage of Sumeru’s creature fungus’s skin as skin grafts for the burn victims, you soon became a laughingstock among colleagues from your field claiming a human body would naturally reject the human skin substitute — no matter that you’ve had provided them with enough evidence proving the match being possible. No one has believed in you or in your theory, no one expect him; out of all the people that could have been your ally was the most unsolicited by you man. Ever since he’d reached out to you for the first time, he’s been sending you different letters encouraging you to join him under the excuse of promising you to be accompanied in your journey of expanding on your thesis — or various others you had.

You could admit and admire his skills and accomplishments, especially in terms of Eleazar, which still didn’t make him someone you’d want an as an ally.

The idea of having a familiar soulmate for your oddities would have been enticing if it wasn’t the worst “doctor” you could ever shake hands with. You had heard numerous rumors about Fatui’s endeavors and plays with human life, supposedly all in name of science, and coming to the conclusion of what you’d have to do by his side to expand on your research has given you more than enough reason to keep sending persistent rejections and refusals to Dottore. To which, Dottore has never acknowledged or accepted his defeat.

Letters becoming visits from his agents, leaving pouches of mora to freeze outside of your door, finally have reached a climax in a form you being taken away from the doorstep ot your house to his lab — bag over your head to conceal any depths of the lab you were taken into, too confidential for a person opposing the harbinger, as they dragged you through the corridors.

Your hearing was sensitized with a jute sack over your ears; only hearing splashes of the muddy snow with every step, your own breathing echoing the closed space, and finally, the male, low voice as you were shoved into the room. “What did I tell you about contaminating the floor?” the voice harshly scolded, and you sensed a flinch in one of the agent’s hand on your arm. “Remove their shoes at once. Get rid off that unprofessionally tied rope too.”

You couldn’t protest as they took off your boots, leaving your cold feet get even colder from the tiles you stood on in socks; followed by a quick snap of the binds.

A click of heeled steps moved towards you and finally freed you of the burden of the bag, your eyes confronting the figure you didn’t want so ever see again.

Dottore grabbed your bruised cheeks, swollen by punches you’ve received from the hands of agents frustrated with your lack of cooperation, and he turned your face twice to the left, once to the right with a click of his tongue. “Tsk, what did I tell you two about bringing them here in one piece? I need them healthy, not with a concussion.” You doubted his disappointment was out of care for you; rather, his goods becoming damaged and less useful — whatever intentions he might have with you.

“Leave us two alone, I’ll deal with you two later,” his voice lowered, manifesting a threat for two agents who quickly scurried away.

Only when your eyes have finally adjusted to the light was when you could look at Dottore and fully rain your bearings. Red eyes boring into your soul, the mask covering most of his deadly pale skin, a small smirk of triumph over catching the elusive doctor. A room you were in, you assumed to be a sort of lab — clean and sterile, with grey tiles on walls and the floor, accompanied with glass shelves filled with different bottles, metal desk and chairs. The room wasn’t dark, giving enough light to work; however, everything was cold toned as sterile would suggest, that even if environment familiar to you, now it exuded scary atmosphere. Regardless, no blood patterns or anything else rotting was rolling around, as one would have expected from a stereotypical mad scientist — Dottore had more than enough brain juice to follow work safety guidelines and not contaminate his own works, a truth ought to have been obvious for anyone not living in fantasy.

Your mouth opened to spill profanities at the scientist, but his finger ended up on your lips, shushing the emotionality you wanted to start.

“You and I are going to have a talk. It’s rather unbecoming of a grown adult to want to yell,” his voice was a tease, clearly capable of being provocative into the mentioned by him state.

“Don’t you dare to joke when-“ your sequence of anger was cut off when he shoved you down into a chair — leather seat with a metal construction, where a patient would be situated when having their blood drawn. Another leather part was in straps built to bind a naughty patient… he didn’t trap you in these, but the risk was still carried, should you become too defiant.

You were right to be worried when he picked up a syringe, filled with unfamiliar to you contents, and approached you. The hands were about to shake the vial off of his hands, but the neck of yours was jabbed with a needle — you quickly realizing it was a muscle relaxant as you turned limp. He could have just tied you down, yet the chemical would make the process of interrogation even smoother — or maybe he just wanted an excuse to treat you like a lab rat.

“Now,” he announced, his voice booming against the tiles of an empty room — so quiet it was unsettling. “I’m sure you are intelligent enough to already be on track of thoughts to why you’re here,” he mused, a tone entertained by your grumpy expression; still, not lacking some anger he wanted to keep quiet. Oh, how outrageous it was for you to reject such a promising position by his side — someone thinking outside of box was a person he desires in his team, a hotshot for him to have. You’d be perfect if it wasn’t for that stupid human empathy holding you back — not even morals.

“You’re going to torture me to get back at me for rejecting your offer, I assume,” you said, your tongue too loose to make a proper and loud speech.

“Torture?” he asked in surprise, before breaking into a laugh. “My, I’d have no use in torturing you. I am not… so petty to torture you over a small failure — one easily fixable too,” you couldn’t tell if it was your drugged mind, but his words carried a worrying innuendo. Your heart raced in distress despite your relaxed body.

“No, after all that chase, it’d be a waste to reduce you to a mushy mess…” he murmured and grabbed a disinfectant, soaking a gauze pad in it.

You winced when the alcoholic solution infected your scratches and cuts on face. Your eyes blinked shut rapidly when he shun a light onto them. Your jaw was open too fast when he did so to gauge the damage on your tooth — thankfully none was much damaged as chipped, when the glove palpated on it and dried your mouth.

Only after a quick checkup you could speak, “Then what else do you want from me, Doctor?”

He sighed, as if in disappointment. “Shouldn’t it be obvious for someone as smart as you. The seat waiting for you has never been filled. You will work for me as intended.”

You tried to trash in your chair, to no avail when you were a victim of the sedative. “I will not be working for you! I refuse to hurt these people and ruin their lives like you do!” you almost yelled, not sparing him of your anger and fear. Becoming one to experiment on people was against everything you’ve made yourself to be. While your methods were less conventional, as long as you were making them efficient and people consented them, you were a long way away from becoming second Dottore.

His face became cold, and in a blink of an eye, he had you pinned to the back of your chair; his form looming over yours. “I’ve put a lot of my hopes in you, only for you to be another person to mischaracterize and misjudge me. I am not hurting anyone, nor am I a sadist. Every project of mine is in name of science, in name of greater things a cerebellum of yours wouldn’t understand, and if I have to dissect people to achieve that, it’s only a duty,” he scolded with indignation, as if the only person wrong here was you.

“Who I experiment on are the dregs of society anyway.”

The repugnance overshadowed your fear, the thought of someone this little respect towards life too inhumane to comprehend. “These are innocent people, children, not scum of the earth like you call it! Each one of them deserves to live!”

“Oh, but they live,” his face leaned closer to yours, the bloody eyes scaring you. “As long as they had expressed enough tenacity, they live in bodies stronger than ever. Those who don’t make it out alive had their lives full of misery prior regardless.”

You liked to think of yourself as logical, knowing some things cannot be helped no matter how tragic some of the fates were; yet not even once have you thought of segregating human lives this way.

“I will not work for a man like you! Even if it kills me, even if you hurt me to make me work! I’ll rather die!” you promised, already thinking the situation through. If Dottore makes you a slave of a lab assistant, death is more merciful. There’s not really much of living left for you if you’d be only made to cause cruelties in his image. The predicament he’s put you in called for such measures.

Sadly, the words didn’t have much impact on the man — imperturbable when his genius mind already had come up with retaliations towards your possible mishaps. “You could even attempt suicide, my dear doctor. I’ll keep you with us anyway.”

The words shattered you in a way, terrified there’s no escape from becoming another sacrifice in name of science he likes to speak so much about.

“You’re too shaken up by the sudden abduction too. We’ll talk once you are rested and warm.”

When an odd creature in a form of a clone, “a segment” Dottore called him, entered the room to remove you, the cruel man didn’t acknowledge your screams as he returned to work with his back turned against you.

⚕️

You were violently woken up in the morning, dressed up in white clothes and fed by a woman. You couldn’t even make up to be if she was a nurse or a test subject Dottore forced to work too, as her demeanor seemed rather… lifeless.

“Ah, there you are,” Dottore smiled when he saw you enter his room, too happy sounding to herald anything good. “All dressed up and ready for work, it seems.”

Your eyes bulged out from his words, remembering being promised a conversation, not forced labor you’ve been dreading all night in a cramped room. “You said we are going to continue our conversation,” you pointed out with trepidation, and looked with worry at the unconscious patient strapped to the table. Were you allowed to find a comfort in the fact the man was not awake?

“Yes, but we can do that as we work. I’m sure a renowned doctor like you can multitask,” he joked dryly. Not only was he a person taking lives in name of science; he also was a liar, you find out now.

And you couldn’t do this. You can’t just break any rules of the oath, hurt innocent and cause unnecessary harm, and you weren’t even that empathetic predominantly— just sane enough to know it’s bad. Your methods were unconventional, and yet still humane.

You barely registered someone putting gloves on your hands.

You had two choices, and both were about choosing lesser evil. Live and cause involuntarily to you harm, or die and lose your life but spare yourself from this torment. You doubted Dottore would find a replacement for you easily anyway. So you were grabbing the nearest scalpel from the tray, ready to stab it and drag it in the most optimal spot, in chase of the swiftest of deaths— only for the deadly grip to hold your hand and twist your arm behind painfully.

“I’ve anticipated that, by the way,” he scoffed and maneuvered your shaking body to be standing in front of the test subject, Dottore holding you behind.

You trashed and teetered on your feet, but his power was exercised over you, locked in his arms around you. His hand held onto yours still holding a scalpel; now pointed at the patient’s chest.

“Let’s begin. We have to work on that theory of yours, after all.”

“Stop!” you pleaded, not wanting to be forced to cut an innocent person. “I can’t do this. It’s not fair. It’s inhumane. Do this yourself-” At this point, you weren’t even begging to let this man go — only for Dottore to free you of this burden by doing it himself, no matter how selfish it might have sounded. It’d happen anyway, so you chose to be a coward.

“Now, now. You’re too hellbent on painting this as terrible in those black and white terms of yours; too simpleminded.” He moved your hand to pin the skin of the stomach with the sharp tip of the scalpel, and you wanted to vomit — not from the gore you’d witness as you create gore everyday, but the forced onto you crime. “One life might be lost, yet many more will be saved. That should be a logic understandable enough.”

You gasped and cried out when he caused you to cause an incision, blood floating across the cut parting the skin. “Stop!” you screamed, pushing back at him — fruitless. “I don’t want to do this!”

“Hush,” he scolded into your ear, unperturbed by your whines, the cold breath chilling you. “You’ll wake him up,” he joked with sarcasm, as if the proposed was possible.

As Dottore guided your movement to cut through more lines of flesh and blood to make a shape of a square, revealing the man’s stomach now unpeeled off of the skin, you were sobbing. With other hand, he tilted your head back. “Careful. We can’t let your tears drop down into his body…”

“Okay, put the scalpel away, and turn your head around to look at me.” You obeyed immediately, immensely more in favor of looking at the monster than continue the massacre. Your hands remained bloodstained, however.

“You and I are not so far away from being alike.” Your heart stopped at his words, the worst comparison of the century hitting you like a brick.

“W-what?” you could barely choke out in your state of terror.

“We don’t like to stick to the conventional wisdom and approach; no matter if it’d lead others to believe we’re pariahs or even heretics. It’s not about becoming yet another knowledgeable scholar… only the innovators who know how to push forwards the future with what’s effective, not necessarily ethical or perfect.”

Your scrambled eggs of brain could barely follow his words, but the massage of him finding himself in you was clear. You shook your head in dizzying pain, not wanting to hear that.

“Don’t you want to be free, to find a solace in your own weirdness, and to strive towards the wellbeing of humanity?”

“I do, but not like this. I don’t want to hurt people,” you said, your voice taut as a bowstring from the dread.

Dottore heaved a sigh. “I’ve expected as much. But don’t worry, I’ll treat you out of this ailment you call morality that’s a disservice for both of us,” when his voice was so intense, you could only theorize how badly he’ll hurt you to make you tick the way he pleases. “You’ll work with me, you’ll understand me, and…”

“… meanwhile, I’ll get to know you better; more than those reports could ever have caused me to.” He, or rather his people, have been stalking you too. “I’m not fond of becoming close with people for personal reasons; however, I might make an exception for someone familiar to me. I’m sure you as well have heard enough of vitriolic prejudice…”

An unsure hand stroked your cheek, yet disappeared from it as quickly, before you were forced to look at the wounded man again, next instructed with a stern voice.

“For now, get back to work. Before that man actually kicks the bucket.”

You felt your sanity fray at the edges.

Just an FYI for those in the US with insurance issues

Silver snow was such a missed opportunity. IS should have focused more on the Edeleth conflict instead of just making a watered down VW

Pls no bulli silver snow it has edeleth angst 😭

To be clear

I love that Silver Snow is a divine tragedy.

I love that Byleth and Edelgard are both plagued by these "what ifs" even as they're perfectly poised against each other, neither of them budging from their chosen positions. That their confrontations are so charged and so personal.

I love that at every turn, Dimitri and Claude are pulled away, that your chosen path doesn't let you intervene for their lives, that you don't even get to witness what happens to them for yourself. You have set yourself apart from their war, apart from humanity, apart from anything not directly related to the Church and to Rhea.

I love that you spend months searching for Rhea, even at the expense of intervening in the war happening around you, only for Rhea herself to become a beast you must kill. I love that her own closest followers are turned monstrous and their devotion becomes their curse.

I love that after all that, you take the mantle of archbishop for yourself and take Fodlan for yourself and are hailed as the new Sothis as you rebuild the land that the Church of Seiros itself nearly destroyed, now under the banner of the Church of Seiros alone.

Did it feel good when you quietly let everyone else die and simply took their place when there was no one else left to lead? Is this what victory looks like? As Edelgard said, your path lies across her grave. What a kind and just goddess you are. Now no one can oppose you.

Hi! If you are willing, can you please draw some Stupid Sexy Douman?

Where is the police?????????