The Good Wife

Legend of Zelda: Tears of The Lockheed Martin Kingdom

Gil asking Saber out for Valentine's Day

As long as you provide Saber enough rice, it should be fine

NSFW

warning: slight corruption kink, yandere behavior, panty stealing, breeding kink, dubcon if you squint

EHEHEH thinking about yandere!angel who has never been hard before.

He sees you, such a pretty little human he’s meant to watch over. You’re so soft and plump, your body stirs something in his belly that he doesn’t completely understand.

And he sees you undressing one night, your form completely bare before his very eyes.

Angels always walk around in the nude, they aren’t ashamed of their bodies… so why does his cock start to twitch and harden?

He doesn’t understand, this has never happened before and the feeling is unbearable. Something in his body wants to be closer to you, to… connect with you.

The angel approaches your room, quiet as he opens your window and slides in with ease. He’s not sure what he should do, but he spots your discarded clothing.

It’s shameful, how he even thinks about stealing an item of your clothing. Your panties are your favorite color, lacy with a little bow on the front. He can spot a slight wetness there, and he starts to drool.

Why is his body reacting like this? His cheeks flush a crimson red as he flees your home, your underwear in his hand. He flies far away, as if trying to escape his new, lustful feelings.

He isolates himself in a small cave, slowly draping your panties over his throbbing cock. The feeling of your slick coated panties touching his tip made him hiss out in pleasure.

Of course, the angel had never masturbated before. He came within just a few strokes, but his cock was still so swollen. Every time he thought about your plush frame, his tip dribbled precum, and he couldn’t help but jerk off again.

It just wasn’t enough… soon he felt so sore, and his hands weren’t soft like yours, and he bet your lips or pussy would feel so much better…

He was your protector, wasn’t he? It made sense that he’d get to fuck his precious little cherub, his sweet girl, right?

Wouldn’t it be a blessing to put a baby in your belly?

Usually the angel had no trouble flying, but now he was trying his best to concentrate on getting to your home.

You spot him in the window, your eyes still bleary from sleep. He’s the picture of elegance, with long, flowing blonde hair and gorgeous dark eyes…

“Be not afraid, I am a messenger of god…” he panted, cheeks flushed pink. “You… have been chosen for something… great…”

He walked in, your curtain billowing around him as he stretched out and lightly clapped his snow-white wings.

His eyes were on your skimpy nightgown, and the way it barely covered your plush thighs.

“You’ve been chosen… to carry my child…”

Your plump thighs squished together, causing him to let out an involuntary moan. “Ch-child? How would you… do that? Touch my belly or something, like the Virgin Mary?”

His eyes were clouded with lust as he approached your bed, his hand trembling with need. “No, my sweet girl… I am no God, I’ll have to take a much more… direct approach.”

In an instant he was on top of you, his lips crashing into yours with an urgency only to be expected of a virgin. He was inexperienced, but tasted like honey and was as gentle as he possibly could be.

Already his erection was pressing against your thigh, and he unceremoniously thrusted his hips, trying to get more friction.

You were so damn soft, warm to the touch. It was taking everything in him not to ravish you instantly.

His fingers danced across your clothed cunt, testing the waters. When he pulled his hand back, it was wet and with a soft lick, his eyes went wide.

You tasted amazing.

Though he wanted to devour your fat cunt, he needed yo be inside of you even more. He was in pain, his cock aching and begging your your warmth to envelope him.

You watched his wings twitch as he positioned himself between your legs. The white feathers were soft to the touch, and you held onto them while he pushed in.

The angel couldn’t help himself, the second he felt your warm pussy he went crazy. His head was buried in your neck, his hips slapping against yours as he struggled to control his body.

He had never felt so good before, the angel was committing a terrible sin but he didn’t care, not one bit.

“S-so good, you’ll have your reward in heaven…” he blubbered out, cheeks red and covered in pleasured tears. “God…”

He came so quick, painting your walls white as hips nails dug into your hips.

All he wanted to do now was wrap his wings around you, holding you close. The angel didn’t pull out, you felt way too warm and comfy for that.

As he kissed your head and snuggled with you in bed, he was sure that that this was fate. Perhaps he was meant to lust after you…

You were something special, and no one would take you away from him.

————————

NSFW TAGLIST: @avalordream @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljra @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @filthybunny420 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @blubearxy @omglovelylaila @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans @wil10wthetree @hammerhead96-blog @slightlyusedfloormat @bubblez-blop @sunshineangel-reads @heroneki-neko @soapybabyboop @anonymouskiwi

Hi!! I really loved your recent post featuring yan!murderer seeing y/n with their child. If requests are still open, may you please write that same scenario but with yan!mean ceo instead?

yes ofc 🙌🏻🙌🏻

also kikuo is performing near me.. and i can't go im SO SAD GUYS..

you didn't understand how he got in. you haven't seen him in three years, yet, here he was.

"is that my son?" he almost sounded hurt. you knew it was an act though. "let me see him."

"he isn't yours." your voice was full of hatred. you held the toddler closer to your chest, as he babbled.

"i know he's mine." he stepped closer, as you stepped back. you didn't want him near you. "do you take me for a fool?"

you covered the toddlers face from nicholas, you couldn't let him see his face.

"get out." you tried so hard for your voice not to crack, but you felt so weak. "you- you don't deserve anything from me."

"it's really funny," he kept getting closer, eventually causing you to bump into a wall, leaving no room for escape. "you beg me to leave, yet you hold my child."

you hated how he referred to the toddler as his.

"i can easily take him from you, forever. so, if you want to see him, you should listen to me. okay?"

you couldn't say anything.

"he looks just like me, don't you agree? and you go on about how he isn't mine."

but you never showed him his face.

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 🤔🤔

yan! dottore hcs

lord help me this is so self-indulgent i never thought in my life I would be writing yandere hcs but he has been all I've been thinking about for half a year so here i am. ; i actually originally planned to make hcs for all of the harbingers but i ended up writing an essay for dottore so.

warnings: yandere themed (duh), might be ooc bc i like soft yan! lol, dottore & co. being insane, death (it's dottore), but overall a softer yan theme because i love my babygirl too much, might be disorganized because i don't know how to write that well yet :d

i honestly think if this man got attached enough he'd be worshipping you. ♥

he would be the type to show you off to the other harbingers, after all, you are his most precious subject (he really means lover, he just hates to admit it). however, if any of the workers under him even glanced at you in a way he disapproved of, he'd slit their neck right then and there. if he deems another harbinger as a threat to you, he'd probably threaten to make some modifications to them or something

moving on, he would let you have relative freedom to do what you want, to go where you want to go. basically, you'd just be living through your daily routine except you have a clinically insane harbinger (and his clones) tailing you every second. whether or not you notice, whether or not he makes himself known, he just wants to make sure you are safe at all times and that no one tries to take away what is his.

downside (upside) though, he is extremely touchy / clingy. he'd find every opportunity to grab you, your wrist in dragging you along to help with another experiment, your waist because "it's getting cold" knowing you two are in a heated room and he has 5 layers of clothing on, etc. he would always have a hand on you, and perhaps even give you a matching earring to show that you are his. (ngl his earring is so pretty i need it)

due to the natural danger, he would hesitate to bring you on his missions, but his underlings have noticed spikes in death rates when his darling assistant isn't there. yes, he's overly dependent on you, but you are his other half, everything he has ever pursued in life, almost everything he's ever wanted or needed! and you will feel the same way about him, won't you?

ext ; would fantasize about attaching your body to his so you two can never be apart, ever!

tldr ; he's insanely in love ♡

Dick size chart for u horny fans

Kauno: 8, pink color

Malakai: 7.5 inches

Leon: 8 inches, lots of girth, pink n cute 😊

Lovi: 6.5 inches

Xavier: 7 inches

Ethan: 7 inches

Haru: 8 inches, pink with girth, lots of cum especially during his heat

Fuyu: 8 inches too, lots of veins

Romeo: 9 inches, he’s very cocky (🤭) about it

Sirius: 8 inches

Yandere council president: 6.5 inches

Eamon: 7 inches

Koa: 9.5 inches

Caleb: 6.5 inches

Elijah: 10 inches, he’s a big dog boy

Eros: customizable, but he usually makes it a 8 inch

Akira: customizable too, likes to make it 9 inches

Vincent: 6 inches but he can customize it as well

Kaito: 6 as well, pink but looks a little blue too as it fades with his tail

Bring back anti-trust laws or have fun dealing with millions of boats sailing the open seas 🏴‍☠️

I pointed this out in a Discord server I'm in and thought Id share here:

Bob Iger announced that Disney is going to absorb Hulu, and Hulu will no longer exist next year. All shows will move to the Disney+ app.

Disney also announced they were going to remove shows and movies periodically from their streaming services.

I believe both of these moves are because of the Writers Strike.

Disney knows its going to lose the strike. There is too much public support. Specifically, the WGA is going to win writers getting more residuals from streaming.

So if Disney takes shows off of streaming, they dont have to pay the writers the residuals.

They are going to use excuses like "not enough funding for the server capacity" or "not enough views to warrent keeping the show". These are BULLSHIT. Its all greed. Its only GREED.

Pay attention to what happens in the following weeks.

And keep supporting the writers' strike.

Thank you so much for fulfilling my commission request! I enjoyed reading this story so much, and I really love how you gave the reader a lot of lore/background!

in the lion's keep

WARNING/S: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. Yandere. Noncon. Dubcon. Power Imbalance. Forced Pregnancy. Captivity. Manipulation. Psychological and Physical Control. Violence. Emotional Distress. Character/s: King Callixto x Servant!Reader Note/s: A commission for @violetvase. I hope you enjoy this one!

From this series: Silent Servitude

Tip Jar | Commissions

Your mother has always been your biggest supporter.

She never once stifled your dreams, no matter how small or ambitious they were. When you insisted on selling flowers in the town square on behalf of the old florist to earn your own keep, she worried, but she did not stop you. Your parents feared for your safety, but your older siblings watched over you, making sure no harm would come your way.

It lasted for months—until children your age began disappearing, vanishing one after another without a trace.

Your siblings stopped letting you leave the house after that. The warm sun, the scent of fresh bread in the marketplace, the laughter of the townsfolk—it all became distant, mere memories behind locked doors. You were forced to watch the world from behind wooden shutters, longing for the life you had barely begun to taste.

Years passed before they finally deemed it safe enough for you to step outside again. And when you did, you threw yourself into rebuilding.

With what little savings you had, you opened a food stall in the marketplace, selling treats that made both children and adults smile. Your business thrived. Customers returned with praises, telling you how much they enjoyed your cooking. It gave you a sense of purpose, a taste of the independence you had long craved.

Then, one night, your stall was stolen

Not just stolen—destroyed. Burned to ashes near the town's tavern.

No one saw anything. No one heard anything. No one even smelled the smoke.

The loss devastated you, snuffing out the fragile hope you had so desperately clung to. When you fell deeper into despair, your mother was the one who lifted you back up. She taught you the skills she had learned from years of working in the palace—how to clean, how to serve, how to navigate the world of nobility without drawing attention to yourself. You listened. You learned. And when she deemed you ready, you followed in her footsteps.

You had thought you were stepping toward a new beginning.

Instead, you walked straight into a gilded cage.

A warm calloused hand rubs slow circles over your bare stomach. Your body is sore, ruined, yet the touch is deceptively gentle—reverent even.

Callixto.

The King.

The man who had stolen you, body and soul, and refused to let go.

His breath is hot against your neck as he presses his lips there, inhaling you like a man intoxicated. He traces his fingers up your stomach, over your ribs, cupping your breast with possessive ease. You squeeze your eyes shut, bile rising in your throat as last night's memories resurface—the way he held you down, the way he filled you over and over until you were too weak to fight him.

“You're perfect,” he murmurs, rolling his hips against your back. “You'll be a wonderful mother to our children. The mother of my heirs… My queen.”

No.

Your breath shudders as you push weakly at his arm, but you might as well be trying to move stone. Your body betrays you—limp exhausted, drained of all strength.

How long has it been?

Days? Weeks?

You can't tell. The chamber windows are tinted, making it impossible to see the sun or the moon. And Callixto… Callixto never leaves your side for long. He lingers, watching you, touching you, whispering sweet, poisonous words into your ear.

The chambermaid is no help, either.

She either glares at you with thinly veiled disdain or ignores you completely, doing only what is required of her. You don't know why she hates you, but it doesn't matter. She's your warden all the same.

There's no one here for you. No mother, no siblings. No bustling marketplace or warm, flickering hearth waiting for you at home.

There's only this prison.

And him.

“Your Majesty,” the chambermaid's voice cuts through the heavy silence. “Lord Soleil awaits you at the gates.”

Callixto tenses, as if irritated by the reminder that the outside world still exists beyond these walls. His fingers dig into your hip as he thrusts forward once more, a sharp, punishing movement that sends a fresh wave of nausea rolling through you.

He finishes deep inside you, groaning against your skin. For a moment, he stays there, reveling in the feeling. Then, with agonizing care, he pulls out—only to press his fingers back inside, pushing his seed deeper.

A shiver wracks your body.

“I suppose I've stolen enough time for myself,” he murmurs, brushing damp hair away from your face.

You force yourself not to flinch.

Callixto cups your chin, tilting your face towards his. His golden eyes burn with something twisted, something sickeningly sweet. Then, he kisses you. A deep, lingering kiss that suffocates you more than any chain ever could.

“Stay here and be good,” he orders, his lips still brushing yours. “Let the chambermaid take care of you until I return.”

As if you have a choice.

As if you ever had a choice.

And when the doors finally close behind him, your body sags into the mattress, silent tears slipping down your cheeks. 

Not just for yourself.

But for the family you may never see again.

For the freedom that may never return.

And for the life that is no longer your own.

The towering walls of the chateau couldn't keep the rumors from reaching you. They were the only thing that kept you sane while you waited for him to return.

You heard whispers about a grand ball the Prime Minister held a few nights ago. It should've been a night of celebration, but instead, it ended in scandal. His wife, a noble woman and the daughter of a count, was caught in bed with a mere footman—nothing more than a commoner.

Lord Soleil, the Prime Minister, himself had walked in on them. The punishment was swift.

The footman was cast out with nothing, and the Prime Minister cut all ties with his wife and her family, erasing them from his life as if they had never existed.

A cruel fate. 

And yet you wondered…

Was it any crueler than yours?

“Perhaps this is why Lord Soleil was so determined to keep His Majesty away from the chateau—away from me. Not just to protect the royal bloodline, but to stop him from making the same mistake his wife did.” You sighed, your breath barely disturbing the still air.

“I can't even blame him. If I were in his position, I wouldn't want a common-born woman anywhere near the throne either. And yet, here I am—trapped in these gilded walls, reduced to nothing more than a vessel, waiting for the day my body finally serves its purpose.”

You leaned against the cool stone wall near the tinted windows, listening to the little birds outside as they carried rumors flitting between the flower beds. Their chatter was a fleeting distraction, a fragile moment of stolen peace—until it was shattered by the sound of heavy boots echoing through the halls.

The doors flew open, and there he stood. The King. Furious.

He called out your name—sharp, urgent, unrelenting—his voice slicing through the chateau hollow corridors like a blade. You didn't move. You barely even breathed. Instead, you pressed yourself against the cold stone wall, your fingers curling into your dress as his footsteps thundered across the marble floors.

He ran upstairs, frantic, taking the steps two at a time. He hadn't even noticed you standing near the windows, so close yet unseen. But you knew it wouldn't last. He always found you in the end.

Outside, the world had fallen eerily silent. The chattering birds had already fled the vicinity, as if sensing the storm brewing within these walls—taking their half-spun whispers with them. The rumor of the king's impending nuptials to a high-ranking noble still lingered in the air, unspoken yet suffocating.

And soon, he would come back down. And this time, he would see you.

Your name tore from his lips again—a furious, desperate plea. Before you could react, his hands found you, his grip ironclad around your arms.

“Where have you been?” His voice was raw, unsteady. His fingers dug in. “Didn't you hear me calling for you?”

“Y-Your Majesty…”

He shook his head. “No—my name.”

Bloodshot, unfocused eyes bore into you. Something was wrong. His gaze sent a slow, creeping dread up your spine.

“Say it.”

“C-Callixto…”

A slow nod. Then, his arms crushed you against him. “You're mine,” he murmured against your hair, his breath searing against your skin. “Forever mine. And I will be forever yours.”

The walls seemed to shrink around you.

“Callixto… Your Majesty… I can't breathe—” you rasped, struggling against his suffocating embrace. 

He didn't let go.

“Please…”

A beat of silence. Then, at last, he loosened his grip—but only slightly.

“Apologies, my queen,” he murmured, lifting your trembling hand to his lips.

Your pulse pounded in your ears. You had to calm him. You had to survive this.

You recalled your mother's old ways—how she soothed your father's anger, how she tamed your brothers’ tempers. Slowly, carefully, you reached for his cheek, brushing your fingers against his skin.

“Tell me your worries…”

“The royal court has been trying to push this woman onto me for as long as I can remember—something about securing the heir to the throne’s bloodline. The nerve of those fools,” he muttered, absently running his fingers through your hair as you lay atop him.

“If I wanted to, I could trace your family's lineage—alter it if necessary— and keep them out of our way.”

Listening to his monologue as you drift in and out of consciousness feels more exhausting than it should. You know you should try to persuade him to accept the will of his people, to yield to their demands—but deep down, you wonder if it would be easier if someone else had his full attention instead. If only he'd let you go.

“Perhaps we should secure an heir to the throne first… then we can look into your lineage…” he whispered, thrusting into you once more. His seed spilled from you as his movements grew more intense with every passing second.

Since then, it had become his ritual to fill you to the brim, keeping you in place—stuffed, trembling, and utterly his— until he was satisfied. Only then would he leave to rule his kingdom, but never without ensuring you remained exactly as he left you, his claim unmistakable. He controlled everything—the meals you ate, the tonics you drank—all carefully chosen to prepare your body for the sole purpose of carrying his heir.

You were his, and soon, you would bear proof of it.

It didn't take long for the signs to show.

The nausea. The exhaustion. The unbearable weight in your lower belly that told you something had taken root inside you.

And yet, luck has not abandoned you entirely.

Your chambermaid—a woman whose disdain for you was only rivaled by her loyalty to the royal court—had noticed. She must have. But instead of betraying your condition, she pressed a cold cloth to your forehead and muttered, “A commoner’s flu. Nothing more.”

A lie. A calculated one.

The King believed her.

But belief was fragile in a mind like his. It splintered easily.

His golden eyes flicked between the chambermaid and the royal physician, narrowed and gleaming, hungry for an answer that neither of them dared to give.

“Her color is pale,” Callixto murmured, pacing your chambers. His fingers twitched—fidgeting, trembling, curling into claws before stretching straight again. “She barely eats, barely moves. And yet you say it is nothing?”

The physician bowed his head. “It is a seasonal illness, Your Majesty. A touch of fever, some exhaustion—nothing that cannot be cured with rest.”

Callixto laughed—a dry, humorless sound. His nails dug into his palms, leaving little crescent moons of pain.

“Rest,” he echoed. His voice was a whisper of rage, of something darker crawling beneath his skin. “You think I have not noticed? She wilts before my very eyes, and you tell me to wait?”

The chambermaid stepped forward then, expression schooled into reluctant sympathy. “Your Majesty, she is weak. He kind does not fare well in the colder months. It is not surprising.”

Callixto stilled. His breathing slowed, deliberate, controlled—but his eyes never left her face.

“Weak?” The word came soft, almost thoughtful. “Is that what you believed?”

The chambermaid hesitated.

Something in the air shifted.

A warning.

Callixto's lips twitched—not in a smile, no. In something sharper. Something that showed his teeth.

“Fine,” he murmured. “If she must rest, then she will do so under your watchful eye. I want no one else near her.”

“As you wish, Your Majesty.”

But as the King turned away, the chambermaid gaze flicked down—her fingers twitching at the pouch hidden beneath her apron. The weight of the promised coin.

The chateau felt emptier than ever one evening. The halls echoed with the distant clatter of preparations from the palace—the banquet, the foreign dignitaries, the noble guests.

A distraction.

And when the chambermaid entered your chambers, her usual sneer was absent. Instead, she carried a bundle of clothing.

“You need to leave tonight.”

Your stomach twisted. “Why?”

“Because I tire of wiping your sweat.” She threw the bundle onto your bed. “Because I want you gone.”

You swallowed hard. “And that's all?”

The chambermaid exhaled sharply. Something in her posture—something tired and worn—hinted at an answer she would never give.

“The palace gates will be open for the banquet. No one will be watching the chateau. Take the back corridors, follow the outer gardens. You are not important enough to be noticed.”

“What do you gain from this?”

A smirk tugged at her lips. “What I was promised.”

You should've asked by whom. But you didn't.

The scream shattered the night.

“WHERE IS SHE?”

The chambermaid barely had time to compose herself before the doors to your chambers slammed open, cracking wood against stone.

Callixto stood in the doorway, his chest rising and falling with each uneven breath. His pupils had swallowed the gold of his irises, leaving only thin rings of amber around black pits. His fingers curled at his sides, nails digging into his own skin, but he did not seem to notice the blood welling beneath them.

His gaze snapped to the bed. Empty.

Something inside him snapped with it.

“Where is she?” he repeated, stepping forward, his voice no longer a demand but a plea.

The chambermaid bowed, but her voice was steady. “Resting, Your Majesty. The fever worsened—”

“Liar.”

The word cut through the room like a blade. The chambermaid flinched.

Callixto's hands trembled. “She would not leave her bed unless someone forced her to,” he whispered. His tongue darted out, wetting his dry lips. “Unless someone… took her from me.”

He turned, suddenly—too suddenly—and grabbed the chambermaid’s wrist.

“You would not betray me, would you?”

The chambermaid swallowed.

“Of course not, Your Majesty.”

His grip tightened. Bones creaked.

“No, of course not,” he echoed, smiling now—serpentine, sharp. His head tilted. “Because if you had…” he leaned closer, his breath warm against her ear. “I would tear this palace apart. Brick by brick. And when I found her—oh, when I found her—”

He released her.

“Find her,” he murmured. “Or I will find you instead.”

The chambermaid bowed, stepping backward toward the door. “As you command.”

But she didn't turn fast enough to see his lips curl into something… inhuman.

He turned back to the empty bed, trailing a hand over the sheets as if he could still feel you there. His fingers ghosted over where your head had once rested, then curled into the pillow, dragging it close. He inhaled—deeply, desperately—like a starving man before a feast.

His eyes fluttered shut.

“Oh, my love,” he whispered to no one. “You can run, but you cannot hide.”

The night air was crip—freezing against your cheeks, but blissfully free.

You ran. Through the outer gardens, past the dim lanterns, past the drunken guards too enamored with wine and revelry to notice a shadow slipping past them.

You ran until the scent of the palace faded into the trees. 

Home. You had to go home.

But when you reached the village outskirts, you stopped.

Guards. Stationed outside your family's home.

You shrank into the shadows, heart hammering against your ribs. From where you hid, you could see the single candle in the window—dim, unmoving.

Not flickering.

Not alive.

A silent warning: Do not return.

Tears burned your eyes, but you forced yourself to turn away.

Not toward another village. Not toward a stranger's mercy.

But deeper into the forest.

Through the twisting paths only you knew, past the moss-covered stones and the brook where you once dipped your toes in summer. Past the memories. Past the ghosts.

And there, hidden beneath the tangle of overgrown branches, the shack still stood.

You and your siblings built it once—when you were small, when the world was gentler. A childish hideaway, pieced together from stolen nails and planks too weathered to be missed. A place of whispered secrets and stolen sweets, of giggling beneath a roof that bare kept the rain out.

It was nothing.

But it was enough.

You pushed the warped door open and stepped inside, the scent of damp wood wrapping around you like an old embrace. The cold bit at your skin, but you knew how to survive here. You always had.

With shaking hands, you pressed your back against the wall and slid to the floor.

Outside, the trees whispered.

Somewhere beyond them, the King was hunting.

But you would not be an easy prey.

Not here. Not yet.

—

tbc.

noirscript © 2025

All rights reserved.

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.