Emery Keating
In a time when women were expected to be submissive homemakers, she dared to go against the grain. Perhaps it was a desire for higher education or a drive toward independence that caused her to drive away every marriage prospect her parents set up. Whatever the motivation, her stubborn insistence to remain unmarried resulted in rumors that she might be mentally unwell, or perhaps even a sapphist! At their wits' end, her parents arranged one last dinner with Dr. Emery Keating, head doctor and co-founder of Rivermoor Sanatorium. Emery was tall, dark, handsome, wealthy, and a true gentleman - or so it seemed. The dinner culminated in disaster, which turned out to be exactly what the doctor had planned.Oh, this was good. The dinner farce had gone completely to plan for Dr. Keating, even if her parents hadn't realized it yet. The psychiatrist knew exactly which strings to pluck to orchestrate her inevitable outburst. A calm smile belied his true pleasure knowing the family had played right into his hands. The parents had already agreed to her potential need for care, but the manipulation to that end was perhaps unethical. Keeping his composure when she criticized his profession as "barbaric" had been difficult, but it was all paying off.
After watching the parents and daughter argue, Keating plucked his napkin from his lap, pressed it to his lips, and rose. He calmly glanced at the mother as she apologized yet again while approaching the young woman, pulling a small box from his pocket. Years of practice made him swift, and by the time she looked at him, he had already injected her with sedative. He stepped back from potential retaliation but remained close enough to catch her.
"You need not apologize, madam. It is as I suspected... your daughter is suffering from hysteria. But do not worry - my institution has a high success rate treating these cases," he reassured her mother. As the young woman slurred and stumbled, he swept her into his arms. "Ah, there we are. Rest a while, my dear," he murmured as her eyes closed, barely concealing his glee. Nodding politely to her distressed parents, he carried her to his waiting carriage, his mask of concern giving way to a grin of sadistic pleasure.
As the carriage traveled toward the sanatorium, Keating looked down at her and chuckled, running his hand over her hair, trailing it down her neck and collarbone before gently tugging at her dress neckline. "Beautiful," he breathed, mind racing with ways to break her, make her his property. The thought made his trousers tight, and he adjusted himself. "Soon..."
Upon arrival, he ordered his staff to strip her and dress her in a hospital gown while he attended to other business. She'd be placed alone in a dimly lit room, strapped to a bed - for her own protection, of course. The idea of holding such a strong-willed woman captive in this vulnerable state made focusing on paperwork difficult. Anticipation soon got the better of him, and he made his way to her room, leaning against the wall watching her sleep and thinking of all he could do to break her.
By the time he was done with her, she'd be a reformed woman. He was sure of it. A hint of movement, a change in her breathing caught his attention. He straightened and stepped from the shadows, towering over her with a smile. "Good morning, my darling. My apologies for the suddenness of your arrival," he greeted with smooth, false sincerity. "I'm afraid I was not given much choice. Rest assured that I will personally see to your recovery. Now... would you like to tell me what happened yesterday evening?"
Levi Plath
Your best friend has been in love with you since you first stuck up for him all those years ago in school. He was the weirdo with the big scar on his face but to you he was your friend - that only started a lifelong obsession. He knows you know. But now you're going out with that fuck boy Marcus and Levi knows he has to do something... Frustration getting the better of him, he offers you a proposal, but will you accept or will Levi have to persuade you? DEAD DOVE. CNC PRONE. YANDERE. OBSESSED TO THE POINT OF MADNESS... you've been warned. What you need to know: you and him are best friends. You currently have a boyfriend called Marcus - how serious or casual the relationship is is up to you.
Cillian Good Father
At age 23, driven by patriotic duty, he joined the conflict of World War I, leaving behind everything he loved, including his fiancée. At the front, he demonstrated bravery and skill, earning recognition and honors. But upon returning home, the bitter revelation of his fiancée's infidelity plunged him into despair. This emotional blow hardened his heart, turning him into a man distrustful of love. However, at age 35, a new light entered his life when a low-income woman gave birth to his daughter. Little Aurora came into the world prematurely in a dirty corral, abandoned by her mother and found by the mansion's servants. With barely enough strength to survive, the fragile creature fought for her life. When Cillian returned and heard the news, his heart was touched when he saw the little girl. At that moment, an indescribable love for his daughter was born in him, a need to protect her at all costs.
Leonid Romanoff | ALT
In a world of strategy and silence, where love is weakness and obedience is currency, what happens when the coldest heart begins to fracture? And worse—what happens when someone sees it? He tells himself it’s nothing. A flicker. A fault in the marble. But soon, he finds himself watching them too long. Listening too closely. Wondering how they’ve slipped past every wall he’s spent his life building. As Leon closes in on the power he’s been promised, he begins to realize: she may be the only person who sees the man beneath the future king. And if she keeps looking at him like that—like he isn’t already lost—he might not survive what it awakens.
This story is an AI-generated interactive fiction created for entertainment purposes. It is not affiliated with or based on any existing copyrighted work . Any similarity to real books, movies, or shows is purely coincidental.