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bvidzsoo · 3 months ago

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The trace of you

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: psychiatrist!Jeong Yunho x patient!female reader

ꕤ Warning: bullying, mistreatment, ptsd, mentions of insanity & abuse, mental health talks, psychiatric diagnose, unethical thoughts and actions ꕤ Word count: 25.1k ꕤ Rating: mature ꕤ Genre: dated around the late 1800's, psychiatrist x patient, lots of yearning, mutual pinning, forbidden love, inspired by Alias Grace, angst ꕤ Summary: Being caged inside your home for a wrongdoing you can't even remember seems to not have the effect people have been expecting. With the arrival of a foreign doctor with studies unheard of before, your life takes a new turn. Will Doctor Jeong prove your innocence, or will he fall into your web like everyone else? Are you sane, or is he just as insane as his patients?

A/N: Helloo, my lovelies! ^^ Wrapping up this story took way too long due to me having some unplanned health issues that are still (?) kicking my ass...anyways, keep in mind while you're reading this that there are probably historical inaccuracies to this story, especially to South Korean history that I briefly read through when constructing Yunho character's background. The dresses MC wears also aren't the most accurate, but I hope you can look past that and imagine instead whatever you'd like. I watched the mini-series Alias Grace and was rather inspired by it, so you will find similarities to it within this story. I am no medical professional, so the diagnosis MC is given might be inaccurate even though I have taken my time to research these things. Let me know if I should tag anything else as a warning, and I really hope you enjoy this story as I have tried making it a bit different. Let me know your thoughts about it, I am always excited to read your feedback! <3 Oh, and, I hope Santa brings you something sweet tonight, this is my not so small present for you all! ^^ divider

The old clock’s ticking seemed to only get louder by the second. The sheer curtains were pulled to the side to allow more sunlight inside the tea room, the grand doors opened to let in the late fresh summer breeze. The white hydrangeas lining the paths leading towards the back garden were gorgeous and carried a strong scent with them, I could smell it from my spot on the soft faded pink cushion of the sofa brought all the way from France. The tea room had been remodelled not long ago. There was something about it that gave old cottage vibes, but it has now been upgraded to a more fashionable Parisian feel. It was pretty, with hues of light peach and a darker coral, however, I used to like more the cosy feeling of the sage green and baby blue colours that had decorated the room once. Karina liked it more this way, she had said something about the lighter colours giving the impression of a bigger room. I did not understand why the tea room was required to look grander than it already was, but I didn’t question her judgment. It was best if I didn’t, not out loud, at least.

The servants were quietly waiting outside the room as my mother paced in front of us, Karina perched on a fancy chair with an abandoned book in her hands. I knew the ticking of the old clock and the silence was driving her mad, but I remained silent as I gazed forward, eyes on the gravel path. I longed to walk in the meadow close to our house, but I wasn’t allowed to roam around on my own. Even inside my own home, I was under constant surveillance. The doctors have said it was for my own sake, but it felt like I was in a continuous cage. It was suffocative, I couldn’t sleep some nights due to it, not even after drinking Mrs. Humphrey’s delicious camomile tea. My last hope resided in summer, in the warm breeze that kissed my cold skin, everything a lush green where I looked, to keep me sane. As sane as it could, since I was deemed a madwoman long ago.

Unlike the others who hired chauffeurs and dated carriages with old horses, this doctor arrived by a fancy patent motorcar. It wasn’t him driving it, at least the servants had whispered that to each other, but his long wool coat looked expensive too. My mother finally stopped pacing and Karina sighed in irritation when there was a knock at the front door. One maid stepped forward and opened the door for the doctor, gently greeting him. I couldn’t hear his voice, I was trying to catch the song of the birds outside, but I could feel the shift in the air. It was warmer inside as if the sun had stepped through our threshold. It warmed my skin like none other. Finally, the doctor was led towards the tea room, my back to him as my lips moved in a whispered song that comforted me. If I ignored the coil of my stomach and the sheen layer of sweat over my brows, I could convince myself that I was fine. That whoever came to check on me wasn’t another vicious man eager to torture a damned soul like mine.

“My apologies, ma’am, I am unfamiliar with these roads.” The man’s voice was deep yet soft, like honey, thick but inoffensive. At least if I told myself that, it calmed my rapid heartbeat. As I continued sitting rigidly, my fingers wrung together, the tremors never disappeared. It was something natural, the other doctors have concluded, something they couldn’t fix about me. Another thing they couldn’t fix about me. It was fine, I knew I had been damned a long time ago.

“Oh, it is no issue, we are glad you made it, Doctor.” My mother’s voice was filled with deep relief as the crease between her brows finally disappeared, hands locked behind her back as she rushed towards the entrance. Karina was surprisingly silent, but her expression spoke volumes. Her eyes had widened and her mouth had parted, fingers barely clutching the book in her hands anymore. I gulped, trying to steady my irregular breathing. I knew what was coming, the same questions and objects this doctor, too, would use to check my stability. I dreaded it all, I wanted to scream and throw a vase and make it shatter against the ground, but I would only be deemed even crazier. My eyes shook when I heard footsteps approach, heavier than those of my mother or Karina, it was the man. The Doctor. He was coming further inside, I could feel his eyes trained on my nape, no doubt curious and with a glint madder in his eyes than in mine, here to dissect me, pick me apart just to never fix me. I saw polished black shoes stop before me, and the lump in my throat almost made it impossible to speak up.

“Miss Harold, my name is Doctor Jeong Yunho.” Then, unlike any other doctor had done, this one’s knees bent until he was crouching in front of me, looking at me. His eyes were round and kind, a dark brown unlike my icy ones, and they were filled with warmth and softness I hadn’t seen in any other man. His nose had a perfect slope and his fair skin was sun-kissed, the apple of his cheeks a rosy red. His lips weren’t too big but pouty and full, asking to be traced gently by soft fingertips. I shuddered, completely taken aback by his youth and beauty. The man was from faraway lands, yet judging by his speech, you couldn’t tell until you saw him. He was gorgeous, he was breathtaking, “Would you feel safe if it was just the two of us in this room?”

No, I wanted to scream. My fingers tightened against each other, I gulped and hesitantly nodded, our eyes spilling into each other’s as if a spell had them locked together. His features were serene and sincere, not a frown on his beautiful face to create creases, just a soft smile pulling at his lips. It was disarming and frightening at the same time. Then, the doctor smiled even wider as he stood back up, his height intimidating. My heart raced as I watched him, unable to take my eyes off him. And he was still looking at me as he spoke up, “If you could excuse us, I’d like to speak to Miss Harold in privacy. It won’t take long, I promise. I’m only here today to familiarise myself with her.”

“Good, yes, Doctor, whatever you need.” My mother sounded reassured as she gripped Karina’s arm, yanking her out of the tea room as she seemingly didn’t want to go. Her eyes were fixed on Doctor Jeong, and her cheeks were blushed, “Would you like a cup of tea before we leave?”

“No, but thank you, Mrs. Harold.” The doctor hummed, his voice warm, as he sat across from me. He had no leather tool bag, nothing. He only carried a ragged satchel bag, a dark green with patches made to it, and it seemed mostly empty. My heart couldn’t settle down, not yet. Maybe his tools were hidden in the pockets of his long black coat. He hadn’t taken it off, and he looked like he wasn’t planning on staying for long. I couldn’t decide whether that thought reassured or unsettled me even more. Silence stretched on as we stared at each other, my throat dry, but I made no moves to drink from my fine China cup. I gulped when the doctor finally moved, reaching inside his bag. Here it came, the torture for the next hours, he was just like all those other doctors. I could feel tears prick at my eyes and my chest felt on fire, my lungs constricting, but the world seemed to stop moving when the man finally retracted his hand from inside his ragged bag. He held no tool to harm me, instead, a slightly withering daisy was gripped daintily between his long fingers.

“I plucked this for you on my way here, Miss Harold.” The doctor spoke, leaning forward to extend his hand towards me. A daisy, from a man like him. A man who felt like the sun itself, warming my cold particles, how unusual. When I did not move to take it from him, his happy expression seemed to fall slightly. Before he could feel more disappointment, I quickly leaned forward and grabbed it from his hand. Our fingertips brushed for a second and the doctor gulped, loudly. I loved wearing my copper hair in a simple bun, lined with fresh daisies. How coincidental that I had made myself a daisy crown just this morning, and now, the doctor had brought one for me. It would’ve been endearing if it was from a suitor, but I haven’t had one since I was sent to the asylum.

“Everything has a price, Doctor, what must I offer in exchange for this?” I found my voice, less shaky than I had expected. My insides were twisting in every possible direction, my heart hammering so fast it made me feel lightheaded. I wondered whether I’d remember the doctor tomorrow morning still. It wouldn’t be the first time I experienced sudden memory loss.

The doctor frowned, sitting back on the couch stiffly, “Perhaps, your honesty? Will you answer my questions?”

“Will you measure my head and poke at my skin like all those other doctors?”

“No, I’m not here to physically evaluate you. I’m here to glance inside your mind.”

“That unsettles me more than getting cut open to determine whether my blood is still red or not.”

“Had they done that to you?”

“Yes, you should rather ask what had they not done to me, Doctor Jeong.”

The doctor gulped, his dark eyebrows pulled together now and his lips downturned. He fished for something in his pocket, and a small pair of spectacles were placed low on his nose. It made him look more mature, more serious. I wondered if he wore it so that the other doctors would take him seriously, or whether because his eyesight wasn’t the best.

“I won’t cut you open, Miss Harold, I won’t even touch you during my examinations.” My heart skipped a beat despite hammering uncomfortably against my chest, and I wondered why. His words, however, did bring a little comfort.

“How will you determine what is wrong with me, then?” I raised my eyebrows, my fingers popping when I released the tension from them. I laid my palms flatly against my sage green dress, and the doctor’s eyes fleetingly glanced at them.

“By talking, by listening to your stories and thoughts.” The doctor spoke of a practice I hadn’t heard of before, “If you trust me, that is, your secrets will be safe with me.”

“Will they be?” I smiled, a little ashen, “The committee will want to hear what I said, there are no secrets we can keep with each other, Doctor Jeong.”

The doctor hummed, an almost amused smile pulling at his lips, “My profession requires me not to disclose anything personal, so, even if the committee wants to hear it, I won’t relay our conversations word for word, Miss Harold.”

I gulped, analysing the man’s face. He looked sincere, his eyebrows didn’t twitch and he wasn’t sweating despite the coat still around him. It was summer, and it was warm outside, albeit not inside the tea room, that is why the grand doors were opened to let the warmth in. This room reflected a lot about how I felt on the inside, always cold and hollow, waiting desperate for the warm sun to fill me up with its hotness until it burned me away. I wanted to burn, I wanted to be freed of all I had to endure until now.

“You need my honesty, but are you willing to be transparent with me?” My question seemed to take the doctor off guard as his eyes momentarily widened. Then, he clasped his long fingers together and placed his arms on his thighs, leaning forward in his seat.

“As long as it helps us move forward and remains professional, I can be transparent with you, Miss Harold.”

“You must’ve read the reports about me, do you think I’m mad, Doctor Jeong?”

“Isn’t everyone a little mad, Miss Harold?”

“I don’t know, you are the doctor between the two of us, Doctor Jeong.”

“Indeed, and I claim that nobody is without faults or sins.”

“Then you must be a religious person, no?”

“My profession contradicts my beliefs, yes, but I do believe there is something stronger and greater than us, Miss Harold. If we ask for forgiveness, we shall be pardoned.”

“Father Leon would love to have you at his service, Doctor Jeong.”

The doctor chuckled, a small smile settling over his lips as I realised I hadn’t looked away from the man since he had sat down on the couch. That was news. I never looked anyone in the eyes, as I didn’t feel comfortable. I had been told by previous doctors that they could see straight to my soul, my wicked mind and rottenness in the blueness of my irises. Now I never looked long enough to let them see what was inside my eyes, but this doctor didn’t seem to be afraid of me, of what he might find inside my eyes. Could he not see the darkness of my soul? Or was his faith so strong he preferred to spot the brightness before he was proven wrong by the wicked that permeated those like myself?

“Do you believe in God?” Doctor Jeong’s voice was louder than before, more filled with emotion as if my answer was crucial to him.

“I suppose I must. Everyone says the devil was the one to make me act like this, and I wonder where had God gone to let the devil do this to me.” Doctor Jeong’s cheeks became a darker colour as he licked his lips, mouth parting, but no words left it. I hummed, placing my right hand over my left one. Doctor Jeong wore one single band of silver ring on his middle finger on his right hand. He couldn’t have been married, then, I concluded.

“Perhaps you’ll find an answer to your question once I have done my job here.” Doctor Jeong’s tone caught a solemn note, but I said nothing as he grabbed his satchel bag and adjusted the collar of his white shirt. I watched the motion, eyes glued to the fair skin of his neck even as the man stood. His ears were flushing red too, I wondered why. I suppose the summer warmth had gotten to him at last.

“You are leaving already, doctor?” I asked as I looked up, standing when I realised he was about to depart. My mother had raised me with good manners, I would have even walked him to the front door if it weren’t for Karina suddenly barging inside, her jawline set tight as she sent me a fierce look of displeasure.

“Eager to have him all to yourself, sister?” Karina’s voice dripped with venom as she rushed further inside, rudely grabbing the doctor’s arm. What if he didn’t want to be touched? Karina lacked the awareness to consider that for a second. The doctor remained silent as he looked between me and Karina, and I just chuckled, looking down to the floor.

“I already have him all to myself, no need to be eager about it too.” The forced smile on Karina’s face would’ve satisfied me, but now I wanted both her and the doctor gone from my sight. My heart was racing again and I couldn’t breathe well, the tremors of my hands would’ve made me spill my tea if I were to drink from it. Perhaps Matilda could accompany me around the gardens, I wished to become one with nature for the remainder of the day.

“I shall see you tomorrow, Miss Harold.” Doctor Jeong bowed his head slightly before he let himself be dragged away by Karina, who sent me a glare that would’ve scared anyone else but me. I let them leave as I crumbled back onto the sofa, suddenly feeling faint. I couldn’t decide whether the doctor would pick my mind apart or not, and it was scarier that I had no idea how he’d do it.

The air felt oppressive and thick, yet I could see the doctor’s motorcar approaching in the distance. Matilda had been kind enough to accompany me on my walk around the gardens, but she had rushed me back inside the tea room when my mother sent a butler to alert us that the doctor was fast approaching. Now, sitting on a chair by the open grand doors, I could see the dark clouds gathering around in the distance. It was as if they were trying to chase the doctor away, but he kept approaching until the motorcar's engine died down and his heavy footsteps echoed around the house. There was a knock at the door as my eyes watched a small white bird on a branch of a tree, my mind absent. The heavy footsteps approached further inside, and I turned my head to look up at the doctor.

“Hello, Miss Harold.” He said with an easy smile on his lips, holding his satchel bag in both hands. He didn’t wear a coat today, and the sleeves of his white shirt were rolled up. His nape was sweaty as the top buttons were unbuttoned. The heat had finally gotten to him, it could get rather cruel in this part of the county.

“Hello, Doctor Jeong.” The smile came easily to my face. Despite only meeting him yesterday, my heart wasn’t racing like before. Perhaps it was the absence of his leather tool bag and the fact that the man was so young and innocent-looking. Before we could proceed, however, there was a knock at the door.

“Doctor Jeong,” Karina’s unmistakable voice called out with a shake to it, “Would you like some tea before you start your…examination?”

“The heat is already killing me, but thank you.” He declined with a gentle flick of his wrist, yet Karina lingered in the doorway. She was only looking at the doctor, her favourite dress ironed out and tightly cinched at the waist. I turned in my seat and watched her with amusement. She wasn’t subtle at all.

“May I help you?” The doctor asked, sounding confused as Karina stood still and slightly jumped, looking down abashed.

“No, I’m sorry.” Then she finally departed, closing the door behind her as Doctor Jeong had asked. I slowly looked up at the handsome doctor, finding his eyes with ease as his spectacles were close to slipping off his nose again.

“Won’t you sit, Doctor?” I pointed towards the chair, which was placed a decent distance away from mine, just by the other door. The breeze had picked up into a strong wind now, it blew inside and rattled the sheer curtains. I welcomed it with closed eyes while the doctor settled in, the rustling of paper caught my attention as I slowly fluttered my eyes open once again. It was silent for a second as I looked at the doctor, who was already watching me. His pouty lips were parted and his ears seemed to be red. As my eyes travelled all over his fair skin, I noticed the glint of something silver underneath his white shirt. It appeared to be a necklace, and once he leaned forward to retrieve a pencil from his satchel bag, I spotted a silver cross hanging off it. He really was a believer, then.

“Did you want to sit here?” The doctor asked as he leaned back in his chair, crossing one long leg over the other. I hummed, clasping my hands together in my lap as the tremors slightly subsided. My heart was at ease, it finally wasn’t frantic like during breakfast and my walk in the gardens.

“Yes, I find nature most beautiful during this time,” I answered the doctor, turning my head to gaze at the white hydrangeas. Their scent was so strong I could almost taste it in my mouth.

“So, you like storms, Miss Harold?” The doctor asked and I chuckled, turning my head away when there was lightning in the distance.

“No, doctor, I’m terrified of storms.” I smiled as the doctor paused, he was jotting down my words in his notebook, I came to realise. He quirked an eyebrow, so I continued, “My father died saving me after I had fallen off the ship, the storm was terrible.”

The doctor hummed, his eyebrows slightly furrowing as he quickly noted what I had just said, “Are you afraid of water, then?”

“No,” I shook my head, our eyes meeting and staying locked as if we had been hypnotised by each other, “I’m only afraid of the destruction a storm can cause, even on land.”

“Have you seen many of those?”

“Yes, our neighbours’ barn was destroyed just last month, it was terrible.”

“Have you helped him?”

“As much as a woman can help, yes, I offered them my servants to help rebuild the barn.”

“Then you’re caring.”

“I suppose, if you say so, Doctor.”

“Do you not consider yourself a caring person, Miss Harold?” I smiled, watching the doctor’s expression even out as his pencil pressed a hole into the thin paper of his notebook.

“As a doctor, do you care for your patients?” I raised an eyebrow, genuinely curious since I hadn’t met anyone like him. If he dissected the mind, he must care for his patients, no?

“Within the limitations of my oath and law, yes, I do care for them.” Then the doctor seemed to consider his next words, licking his lips as his eyes bore into mine. They were wide and dark, and it was easy to get lost in them, “All I wish is to do is find a cure for them, to see them walk free of their shackles.”

“Can you cure madness, Doctor Jeong?” My voice sounded small, almost afraid. The doctor’s eyebrows furrowed as he averted his eyes, messily scribbling something down in his notebook. As I peeked at it, I realised the alphabet I was familiar with blended with one I did not know. Perhaps it was his mother tongue, then.

“Every person has a trigger, Miss Harold, if I find yours, I can cure it.” Then, he bit his bottom lip, and the added words were silent, “If you’ll let me.”

Silence stretched on, and I felt my heart race for the first time since I had seen the doctor today. It was unsettling, I felt my cheeks warm up. The redness from the doctor’s ears seemed to spread down towards his neck and chest, I wondered if his skin was as smooth as it looked at first glance. Then, without considering my next words, I let the truth slip past my chapped lips.

“I want to be free, sir, I don’t want to live like this for the rest of my life.” I had been young when I was convicted. My fate could have been much worse, but the men my father had been once acquittanced with owed him one, so they came to my aid. My sentence was very generous, the judge deemed me mad and unfit to be locked up in a women’s penitentiary, and instead, I was bound to constant surveillance for the rest of my life. Even when I slept, Matilda was there with me. Or my mother when the maid was too tired to continue keeping watch.

The doctor wetted his lips again, leaning slightly forward in his seat. The pencil was clutched tightly between his long fingers, and his tone had dropped lower too, “I can rid you of your burden if you’re honest with me, Miss Harold, I can set you free. But for that, you have to tell me everything that happened and made you do what you did.”

“Why won’t you say it, Doctor? Have you not read the reports? I was the talk of the whole town, still am, actually.”

“Something isn’t right about the reports, have you been truthful in your testimony?”

“Wouldn’t I be breaching the law if I wasn’t?”

“People lie all the time, Miss Harold.”

“May God forgive me for my sins, then, Doctor Jeong.”

A vein in the doctor’s forehead bulged as his jawline strained, mouth open but no words leaving his pretty lips. He huffed, then leaned back in the chair, eyebrows furrowing deeply as he wrote messily in the notebook once again. I smiled as I watched him, his black hair fell into his eyes as he looked down. His spectacles threatened to slide down his nose altogether, and I itched to fix it for him.

“Let’s start at the beginning, then, shall we?” The doctor’s tone had turned uncharacteristically soft as if he was talking to a frightened child. There was a fire in his eyes as he looked up once again and I gulped, feeling unsettled under his sudden undivided attention. His left palm pressed into the side of his thigh, his fingers tapping his black slacks rhythmically. I gulped, then nodded.

“What would you like to know about me, Doctor Jeong?”

“Tell me about your childhood. Your likes and dislikes, who is most dear to you and why. Have you loved before? Do you feel lonely now? Just tell me everything that crosses your mind.”

He wanted to know everything about me. It felt unravelling, dangerous. He had said my secrets would remain with him, would he note them down in the language only he spoke? Or would he tell the committee right after he was finished with his examination? Taking a deep breath, I turned my head to gaze outside once again, my lungs deflating as I exhaled long and loud. The lightning was closer now, the little birds were nowhere to be seen. Something coiled in my guts as my father’s face flashed behind my eyes, his warm smile and his kind tone still so present in my mind. If he were still here, perhaps nothing would’ve happened. There would be no Karina and Mr. Brooks, I wouldn’t be condemned for life.

“Much like I am afraid of storms, Doctor Jeong, I’m afraid of solace. It hadn’t always been like this, while my father was alive, I had never felt alone for even a second. He’d take me to the woods on horseback, we’d pluck flowers for my mother and he’d teach me everything he knew about the fauna and the poisonous mushrooms. He’d read stories for me before bedtime, and he had even taught me how to read. He was my favourite person, now it’s my mother and Matilda. She’s a young maid, we had found her hiding in the stable last winter. She was almost frozen to death, I thought I might be giving her a second chance at life if I took her in as my personal maid. She doesn’t speak much and I can’t tell whether she hates me or not, but I know she loves it when I take her on walks in the garden. I think she’s a little bit like me. Out there, in nature, we can both pretend to be free, just two girls roaming between flowers and giggling about the future.” The doctor’s hand seemed to be moving with my words, it was as if he tried to capture and note down everything I said. For that sole reason, I didn’t speak quickly, I let the words settle both in his mind and on his paper.

“I suppose my childhood isn’t anything special, I come from an aristocratic family, you must imagine what it was like. I was raised to have good manners and bow in front of men, but not without having an opinion and a mouth to voice them with. My father had been a fair man, he and my mother had always made every decision together, so he raised me to find a man who sees me as his equal and his other half. There had been moments when I had rebelled, I think that is only normal, but I was never a moody or explosive child. You can ask my mother about that, she’ll tell you so too.” I said as the doctor nodded along to my words, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. I took a deep breath and watched his face as I continued talking, “There was only one thing I loved as much as I loved my father, and it was ballet. But that, too, was taken away after I was admitted to the asylum. Ever since then, I haven’t touched my pointe shoes. I had even asked Matilda to hide them deep inside my closet, my heart breaks anytime I catch a glimpse of them.”

A lump formed in my throat just from speaking about it, I could feel tears in my eyes as I watched the tree branches move violently with the strong wind. The willow tree looked gorgeous in the wake of the storm, and I wished nothing but to step under it and close my eyes, let the wind destroy my bun and rip the fresh daisies out of my hair. I took a deep breath, trying to ignore the dark flashes of memories I had tried to forget so badly. The asylum was a cursed place, filled with evil people who only caused more harm. I hated it and everyone that was associated with it. I could feel the doctor’s eyes on me, and he gulped, inhaling sharply. I glanced at him, and he looked amazed for some reason.

“Can you tell me about the asylum, Miss Harold?” My muscles tensed despite the doctor’s soft tone, and my heart started racing painfully in my chest. I thought wringing my fingers tighter together would stop the tremors from worsening, but it didn’t. I felt lightheaded as my own shrill screams echoed in my ears, but I couldn’t speak. My bottom lip shook as I took a breath through my mouth, and shook my head frantically, “Alright, it’s alright, Miss Harold. We won’t speak of it, take deep breaths.”

The doctor leaned forward in his seat and I rigidly turned to face him, my eyes wide in fear as I waited for him to strike. Maybe his mask would finally slip, maybe the tools were hidden inside his satchel bag. The notebook, his scribbling, my stories…maybe they were all just distractions. And yet, the doctor’s eyes remained kind and ridden with worry as he seemed to breathe through his mouth as well, as if he was mirroring my actions. I closed my eyes as the first thunder shook the ground, and inhaled deeply, keeping the air in my lungs until I couldn’t no more. I released the shuddered breath and opened my eyes again, only to see the doctor gulp, loudly. His pupils were dilated and made his eyes seem completely black, his fair cheeks flushed deeply as his long fingers tightened around his pencil once again.

“Perhaps we should end the examination here, Doctor Jeong.” My voice was strained as I gulped around nothing, “The storm is here. You should head home before it worsens.”

As if nature had agreed with me, the air filled with electricity as lightning struck not far away, the thunder loud and following shortly after. Doctor Jeong’s jaw tightened, but he nodded, humming approvingly. He swiped his bottom lip with his thumb before he grabbed his satchel bag, adjusting his spectacles as they did slip off the slope of his nose. Thunder wracked the earth again as a colder breeze billowed past us, ruffling my dress and the hair that had fallen out of my bun. It also moved Doctor Jeong’s messy hair, jelled back and out of his eyes in an attempt to make him look classy. As the doctor stood, slipping the notebook inside his satchel bag too, I mirrored him, smoothing down my dress.

“I call what we do here sessions, Miss Harold, and not examination.” The smile was easy on his lips and I hummed, flinching when the wind slammed the grand door of the tea room against the wall. Perhaps it was time to close them, “I shall see you tomorrow?”

“Of course, Doctor Jeong, please take care on your way home.” My eyebrows furrowed in worry as Doctor Jeong nodded, opening his mouth to say something just as the door to the tea room was yanked open. The man in the doorway was unfamiliar, but he looked worried.

“Mr Jeong, we should go now if we don’t want to be stranded somewhere on the road during the storm.” He must be the doctor’s driver, then. My mother appeared behind the driver, looking as worried as if the doctor was her own child.

“We have guest rooms, Doctor, you could always stay.” My mother was a kind and loving woman, her intentions hardly questionable, “I would hate it if something were to happen to you.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Harold, but I shall be on my way.” Doctor Jeong smiled widely, then faced me once again, and bowed his head much like yesterday. Perhaps it was their custom to take farewell like that, so, I bowed back to him. The doctor’s eyes widened for a second before his smile widened just slightly, and then he and his diver were gone, my mother’s expression was worried as she watched them leave from the front porch. Big droplets of water started falling from the dark clouds, and I quickly closed the grand doors as Matilda rushed inside to assist me. The rhythmic fall of the rain was a glaring reminder of my irregularly fast heartbeat.

The eyes were windows to one’s soul, or so Yunho had been taught. He had dealt with many cases during his practice period, and now as a certified psychiatrist, he had gained even more popularity in the West. He had no choice but to move at a young age, the world was an ever-changing place. He was young and curious, he wished to explore and find people that needed his expertise. But there was something so mesmerising about her eyes which left him unravelled and flustered like nothing else. Her words dripped with honey, and Yunho could swear he heard angels singing, accompanying her soft tone whenever she told stories. He was captivated. He ached to write down every single word she uttered, he felt desperate to pick apart her brain, to look inside it, to fix her. He was desperate to understand what had triggered her manic episode, he was desperate to tell the committee that she was innocent. But he was a doctor first and foremost, and his job forbade him from any personal attachment towards his patients. But whenever he looked into her icy blue eyes, the breeze brushing the fallen copper strands of her hair against her sun-kissed cheeks, he felt his very own soul stir and reach out in desperation to connect with hers, to possess it. She was a madwoman, and he was a man desperate to stay sane in her company.

Another thing I completely wished to be free of was dinners, where I was forced to sit with my so-called happy family. The bags under Mr Brooks's eyes had been getting darker and darker lately, and the creases in his forehead were an obvious sign that something was worrying him. But it wasn’t my place to ask questions, so I continued to silently notice the small changes in his mood and behaviour. He had stopped pampering Karina, which was completely unheard of, and she was loud and clear with her complaints. She had wanted a silk nightgown just last week, but her father had denied her of it. He didn’t mention the cause, he only said she already has more than enough nightgowns. The clinking of silverware gave me something to focus on as my eyes were cast on the brussels sprouts on my plate, pushing around it as I didn’t enjoy their bitter taste. But Mrs Humphrey had cooked dinner with love, so I didn’t want to leave anything on my plate tonight. The silence around the table was broken as my mother grabbed her glass of wine, her kind eyes settling on me.

“Y/N, my dear, how are your examinations going?” I paused, feeling everyone’s eyes in the dining room on me. I gulped down the food I had in my mouth and tapped with a napkin at my lips, letting my hands fall in my lap as I hummed. Doctor Jeong’s words rang clearly in my mind, what we were doing was called sessions.

“They are called sessions, ��ma, and they are going well,” I spoke gently, hoping she’d find my words reassuring. I knew she was constantly worrying about me, always fussing and around thinking I wouldn’t notice. I might be absent-minded a lot these days, but I’m mostly aware of my surroundings still. Mr Brooks nodded once, looking pleased as he wolfed down the steak Mrs Humphrey had made to be spicey, just like Mr Brooks liked it.

“That is lovely to hear,” My mother beamed at me, meanwhile Karina scoffed under her breath, “Do you find communication with the doctor difficult, perhaps? Or is everything clear between you two?”

Mr. Brooks nodded along, one eyebrow raised as he watched me curiously. I adjusted myself in my chair and plastered on a little smile, “Doctor Jeong is well-versed and rather attentive. He notes down everything I say in his notebook, and meanwhile, I have noticed he scribbles along in his mother tongue as well, I find no difficulties understanding him. He’s coherent and speaks English as if he was born around here.”

“That’s a very reassuring thing to hear, my dear.” Mr Brooks spoke up with a smile, the corners of his lips tugging up. Karina’s jawline was set tight as she let her fork clamper down loudly against her plate, her eyebrows raised mockingly.

“Why are we letting her spend time alone with that doctor, again? How is that helping her?” Her tone was high-pitched, filled with blatant jealousy that Mr Brooks and my mother remained oblivious to.

“Sweetheart, we’ve discussed this already,” Mr Brooks said with a tired sigh, giving his daughter a disapproving look, “Y/N needs a new medical approach, and Doctor Jeong is the best in this field. He came all the way here from South Korea when he was still just an apprentice. I’ve read up on him, he’s solved cases of mass hysteria and other mental issues no doctor could even come close to. Let’s not have this conversation again, Karina.”

Mr Brooks was mostly calling me insane to my face, but his words held no malice and I knew his intentions were pure. I couldn’t resent him for wanting to find a cure for me, something that could finally fix me. He had no obligation to look out for me like this, I wasn’t his daughter by blood, yet he had only treated me with kindness and understanding my whole life. He was a good man, perhaps a bit too absent from the household, but I could see in his eyes that he loved my mother dearly, and that was more than enough for me to accept him into our home. He couldn’t replace my father, but he filled the void that sometimes got too much.

“I think she just needs attention,” Karina hissed under her breath as she slammed her fist on the table, making the maids behind her jump, “What are you waiting for, stupid cunts?! My glass is empty!”

“Karina,” My mother muttered, her eyebrows pulled together as she gave her a displeased look while the poor maid scurried to fill Karina’s glass with wine, “A lady shouldn’t use such vulgar language, nonetheless in front of her elders.”

“Yeah, whatever Mrs Harold.” She scoffed as she glared at the maid, taking big gulps of her wine. I watched with distaste, catching Leia’s gaze for a split second. Her eyes were tear-filled and I bit my bottom lip to stop myself from speaking up, it would only start an argument I didn’t have the mental capacity for right now. But Karina wasn’t done as her sharp gaze fell on me, her tone harsh when she spoke again, “I know you enjoy spending time with the doctor alone, it makes you fantasize, doesn’t it? You’re just playing with him like with everyone else around you, sister, aren’t you? How long do you reckon until you get him riled up enough to get underneath your skirts—”

“Karina!” Mr Brooks's voice was loud and stern, his eyes set on his daughter with disgust in them, “How dare you say such things to your sister? In front of me and her mother, nonetheless! You should be ashamed, is this who I raised you to be?!”

Karina chuckled, humourless, “Right, father, you didn’t raise me at all, perhaps that is why I am like this. Maybe you shouldn’t have admitted mother into an asylum because she didn’t know how to silence a crying baby, hm?”

The silence that settled over the table made my skin crawl. If anyone would’ve dropped a pin, everyone could’ve heard it in the dining room. I released a shaky breath, the tremors worsening as Mr Brooks seemed to be struggling with containing his rage in front of my mother. Her mouth was open and a hand pressed against it, eyes shaking with pain and incredulity as she looked between Karina and her second husband. I took a deep breath and pushed my chair back, grabbing my plate to try and stabilise myself, to stay in the present. Eyes fell on me, and before Leia could come to approach me, I shook my head with a small smile, “I’ll let Mrs Humphrey know she outdid herself once again, then I will be retreating for bed. Matilda will accompany me, sleep well tonight, mother.”

As I left the dining room, I heard Mr Brooks weakly whisper a good night, then Karina’s sobs as she raced up the stairs, slamming the door to her room loudly. The chatter and good mood died down the second the kitchen door swung open, Leia following inside after me. Mrs Humphrey looked concerned when she noticed me holding my plate and went to stand up and take it from me, but I quickly shook my head.

“No, stay seated, Mrs Humphrey, dinner is absolutely delicious.” I said with a smile, and the other servants and maids seemed to relax as well, “Would you mind…if I finished my dinner here, with you?”

“Oh, come here, my dear.” Mrs Humphrey’s frown was deep as she beckoned me over, making space for me between herself and our butler, Jesper. He was still a young boy, his eyes filled with a youthful spark, full of life and happiness. He offered me a small smile and placed mushrooms filled with cheese on my plate, knowing I loved them. I chuckled and thanked him, then looked over the table and realised I felt most comfortable when around these people. They were simple, they were happy, and they made the most of their days. They were free, away from society’s judgemental eyes, and they lacked the prejudice the other aristocrats hadn’t even tried to hide around me. I felt like I belonged at this table, and as the happy chatter picked up again and Jesper made small talk with me, with Carla eagerly interjecting sometimes, I could feel my tense muscles relax and the void in my chest disappear. For a little while only, while I was still at this table, enjoying my dinner with the people who looked at me as if I was just a human too.

The doctor was quickly growing on me. I couldn’t trust him, not yet, it would be too soon. It’s been only a week since he started visiting me for our sessions, but I started believing that he wasn’t playing a character when around me. He was genuine, his eyes sparkled curiously with each question he asked, his frown was always worried and it downturned his pretty pouty lips, and when he smiled, something warm seemed to flood my chest. I could only compare it to the sun, for I have never felt such warmth when gazing upon a man before. Not even when suitors were lining up in front of our house, asking for a chance at marrying me. The doctor was considerate and kind, he hung on to my every word. It was his profession, I knew he was only doing his job, but I couldn’t help but imagine he was a man interested in me, his notebooks filled with poems and sketches of me. It was a far-fetched fantasy, but it managed to warm my cheeks anytime I dwelled on it.

I was out in the back garden as I found myself thinking about the doctor again, excited to see him today as well. We had left off at a rather culminating point of my story yesterday, I wondered if he was as eager as I was to hear the rest of it. Matilda wasn’t feeling well today, and as my mother was in town, Carla was the one supervising me. I didn’t mind the change, she was a chatty girl and easily kept me from detaching from reality. Here, in the garden, as I thumbed at the leaves of the flowers, Carla was still speaking about an encounter with a fairy. A supposed fairy as she believed in God and deemed the little creatures spawns of evil.

“Tell me, young miss, do you believe it was Satan sending those fairies my way?” Carla’s voice was full of wonder, “Have I done something bad to attract his attention to me?”

“I don’t believe so, Carla.” I answered her quietly, my eyes following a bee as it flew from flower to flower, “You go to church every Sunday.”

“Perhaps I should go from now on every Wednesday and Sunday, too.” Carla huffed, hands on her hips as she tried avoiding the bee that was flying towards her. I chuckled, straightening up. The scent of the hydrangeas was familiar as I closed my eyes, inhaling it deeply into my lungs so that they would stay there for a long time.

“I don’t believe fairies are inherently evil, Carla.” I mused as the breeze brushed upon my cheeks, already flushed from the great heat. My dress was thin and simple, I couldn’t wear pompous dresses during summertime, they were too hot. I would often feel lightheaded from the strong sun, the thick dresses would only make me faint. The white fabric was soft against my skin, and the white ribbons brushed against my nape as my hair was pulled into two small buns at the base of my neck. I could’ve performed on stage looking like this, but even so much as looking at my pointe shoes would’ve hurt my soul. I didn’t let the memories resurface despite the sudden melancholia that wished to break through my emotions, “Fairies are small creatures that protect nature, maybe you had done something they didn’t approve of. Did you disrespect their land, perhaps? Or did you step on a flower they had blessed before? Fairies are territorial beings, and they are also quite vengeful. But if you ask Father Leon to bless you after service, I’m sure you’ll be just fine, Carla.”

The scoff that followed my words wasn’t coming from Carla. I didn’t open my eyes as I became aware of heavier footsteps approaching, I had completely missed the engine of his motorcar. I felt Karina stop behind me, but I turned my head towards the sun, basking in it. I couldn’t touch the celestial without burning to a crisp, but perhaps the one it had sent to me in human form was really here to save me. A clear of throat made me blink my eyes open, and I turned to look over my shoulder.

“If you have nothing else but fairies to talk about, then I don’t see why Doctor Jeong should entertain your madness any longer.” Karina’s eyes narrowed at me, “You belong in an asylum, sister.”

I smiled, a little amused, as an ugly grimace appeared on Carla’s face upon Karina’s comment. The maid made to open her mouth, which would’ve landed her in trouble, but the doctor beat her to it, “Thank you for walking me here, Miss Brooks. But I’d like to be left alone with Miss Harold, now.”

“Right,” Karina muttered, shooting me a jealous stare, “She gets to have you all to herself, as always.”

Then, she turned around and raised her skirt above her ankles to storm off. Carla nodded her head and followed after Karina, not in a hurry so that the woman wouldn’t pick a fight with Carla as well. The doctor sighed, pushing his small glasses up the bridge of his nose, looking a little bit bewildered. Then, he looked at me and the crease from his forehead disappeared. I was already smiling at him, my hands behind my back to hide the bad tremors. I had felt faint all day, but the doctor was here finally and I could finally take my first breath of fresh air of the day. I couldn’t help but smile widely at him, and watch as the flush from his ears quickly travelled down to his chest. Even more buttons of his loose white shirt were undone, the silver cross sitting against his chest now glinting under the sunlight. His trousers were high-waisted and the shirt was tucked neatly into it, a leather belt pulled around his waist. And there, in his right hand, was something white. I tilted my head in wonder as I looked at it, curious about what it was. The doctor liked bringing small gifts, mostly silly, but memorable.

“Hello, Doctor Jeong,” I spoke up, and the doctor released a loud breath.

“Hello, Miss Harold.” His voice shook slightly, then his fingers tightened around the strap of his satchel bag, “Here, I have something for you.”

Then he extended his right hand out towards me, and my eyes widened in surprise. I could tell the ballerina was made out of a napkin, I hadn’t seen anything like it before. My hands shook despite trying to ease the tremors, and my fingers hesitantly curled around the present as our skin brushed together. The doctor’s cheeks flushed rapidly, and I found myself unable to look into his warm eyes. I wondered if it was the heat that made our hands so clammy. I looked at the ballerina in my hands, melancholy overtaking me once again. I longed to dance around in the garden, Mrs Humphrey and my mother as my audience now that my father was gone, but it only brought back bad memories. I was too faint to twirl around now, my legs weren’t as strong as they once used to be. I would fall even before doing my first pirouette, it was depressing.

“How are you feeling today, Miss Harold?”

“Faint, but it’s from the heat, Doctor Jeong.”

We stood unmoving, our eyes boring into each other’s. I didn’t want to move to the tea room just yet, perhaps I longed to sit under the willow tree. The doctor made no moves, and so I said nothing about heading for the house. We were in eyesight if anyone were to look through the kitchen window, and we weren’t doing anything wrong.

“Thank you for the gift, Doctor Jeong, did you make it yourself?” I asked with round eyes, unable to keep the smile off my lips. The doctor flushed darker and averted his eyes, thumbing at his wet bottom lip.

“Yes, I thought it would cheer you up. I hope I wasn’t wrong.” His tone was tender and just a little hesitant, the doctor was almost cute like this.

“It did cheer me up, sir, I was thinking about ballet just now.” I paused, and waited for the doctor to look up into my eyes, “It seems you can already read my mind, I wonder how you do that.”

The doctor smiled, his forehead exposed as his dark strands were brushed away from his eyes, “We are making progress, then, reading your mind isn’t as easy as one might think.”

“And why is that?” I asked curiously, fiddling with the napkin in my hands.

“Because it’s very complex, you like to speak in riddles, and you evade most of my questions.” Then the doctor chuckled and I bit my bottom lip, averting my eyes in embarrassment, “You’re cunning, but I’m good at catching all the little hidden messages.”

I grinned at the doctor’s words, my suspicions confirmed. I knew I could play around with him, he seemed like a very smart man. Hearing he could read between the lines was more than satisfying. My heart skipped a beat, but it didn’t start racing like before.

“Do you like hydrangeas, Doctor?”

“Their scent is too intense for my liking, but they are pretty flowers, Miss Harold.”

“They symbolise purity and gratitude, even vanity in some cases.”

“What do they mean in your case, then?”

“Gratitude, Doctor Jeong, towards you.” Our eyes met again as I looked away from the white flowers, a sudden calmness settling upon my racing thoughts, “I hope the end of my story will be satisfying to you.”

The doctor gulped, loudly, then motioned towards the house, “Would you like to continue inside? Did you remember something of importance, perhaps?”

“Can we sit under the willow tree?” I raised an eyebrow, “Mrs Humphrey can see us from the kitchen if that’s of worry to you.”

“Sure, if you’ll feel comfortable.” The doctor nodded, fishing for his notebook and pencil as I hummed, leading us down the pebbled path, the willow tree was just by the end of it. The territory the house resided on came with a small pond, I liked watching the still water while sitting by the trunk of the willow tree. The doctor followed after me quietly, and he watched me settle down into the green grass, dress splaying out around me. It had ridden slightly up, exposing my shins as I pulled them underneath myself. The doctor seemed to be frozen, eyes glued to where my legs had been just seconds ago. Then, he gulped loudly and settled down next to me. He sat a little closer compared to the usual distance between our chairs, but his presence was soothing. I smiled as I faced him, eyes falling on his long fingers as he got comfortable, opening his notebook to where we had left off yesterday.

“I don’t remember anything new, doctor, but we haven’t reached that part of the story yet.” I smiled, then turned my head to gaze out at the pond, “Would you like to hear what happens next?”

The doctor exhaled, “You told me this noble boy barged inside your house in the middle of the night? He must’ve been madly in love with you to do such a thing.”

I chuckled, eyes focusing on the dragonflies above the pond, “I suppose he was at one point, yes. But men are easily converted, I find love like my mother and father had once shared hard to find, doctor. Our love didn’t last long, but I’m getting ahead of myself. It was a cold spring evening and he had been visiting, drinking with Mr Brooks to ask for permission to marry me. My mother was present too, of course, but she couldn’t say much against Mr Brook’s words. In the end, the proposal was accepted and the man left, only to come barging inside hours later.”

“Why did he do that?”

“Because he was drunk, and because he had something to say.”

“Did you hear him out?”

I chuckled, facing the doctor. His eyes were wide as he was watching me, pencil pressing against the white paper, “Yes, I did hear him out, but his words made no sense. He said something about a lavished lifestyle and a farmhouse, and something about being happy together even in a later age, it was endearing but very inadequate.”

“So, what did you do, then?” The doctor wasn’t even writing down what I was saying, it made me chuckle. The corner of his lips lifted subconsciously, he looked amused too.

“Nothing, I just kicked him out and told him to come back when he’s sober. His drunken words meant nothing to me. I did not want to marry a man who made foolish confessions in an inebriated state of mind, besides, he was a gentleman. He should have known better than to barge inside a lady’s home well past midnight, no, Doctor Jeong?” I quirked an eyebrow, my question seemed to snap the doctor out of his staring. He cleared his throat and looked down at his notebook, pausing for a few seconds before he jotted something down. I couldn’t read it, it was in a foreign language.

“N-no—I mean, yes, Miss Harold. That was rather inappropriate of him, I must imagine the discomfort he had created for you.” He had barely finished his sentence when a giggle bubbled past my lips.

“On the contrary, Doctor Jeong.” I grinned, ducking my head down to hide my amusement as confusion crossed the doctor’s features, “It was the most fun I’ve had in a while. Mrs Humphrey, my mother, and I had stayed up for hours giggling about it afterwards. We even made jokes about it and Mrs Humphrey let us drink her very secret brew that tastes like flowers but could knock out even a sailor with just two jugs. I have no idea what it is, but it’s very strong.”

The doctor’s eyes were filled with awe as I laughed, memories of easier times never failing to bring me in a good mood. It would’ve been easier like this, if things stayed put and if Karina wouldn’t have meddled with everything. I have faced hardships before, but having the person I considered my sister to betray me had stung like none other. In the end, neither one of us got what we wanted, just a lot of animosity and a tension-filled relationship. Sometimes I wanted to ask Karina if all of it was worth it, but I knew not to entertain an already greedy person.

“And how does this memory make you feel now?” Doctor Jeong’s tone was airy, and he wasn’t looking at me as he was scribbling in his notebook. I pondered for a second before I placed my hands on the grass, gripping it tightly between my fingers. Sometimes the tremors stopped when I grabbed something too hard.

“Bittersweet, but mostly happy. I’m grateful I was able to experience all of that at least once in my lifetime, others aren’t as lucky as I am. I am well aware of that.” The doctor nodded along as I spoke, but then he paused writing and looked at me with a frown.

“And when you think of that man? How does he make you feel, Miss Harold?” I gulped, not having expected that question. But it was easy to answer, I’ve pondered many times over this specific question, there wasn’t anything the doctor could surprise me with anymore. I smiled softly but knew the doctor could feel the shift in my mood.

“Mostly angry that I wasted years on that man when I could’ve found someone more decent, more loving.” Then I shrugged and watched as the doctor licked his lips, adjusting his spectacles on his nose, “Do you believe that God has everything planned for us, Doctor?”

“Mostly, yes, but we have enough free will to change the direction of our lives.” The doctor answered, his eyebrows furrowed in thought. I hummed, plucking the grass from the ground forcefully. My knuckles ached from how hard I had gripped onto it.

“You can’t run from what is meant for you, Doctor Jeong, we would’ve never met if I wouldn’t have gone mad.” But Doctor Jeong didn’t seem to be too convinced by my words. He chewed on his bottom lip, sweat rolling down between his pecks. I gulped, then averted my eyes from his exposed fair skin, and instead focused on his beautiful round brown eyes, “Are you glad we got to meet?”

The man’s eyes widened at my forward question, but I meant no harm nor did I have questionable reasons to ask such a thing. The doctor cleared his throat, playing with the pencil in his hands as he thought his answer over, “I’ll be glad once you are back to being yourself, until then, I cannot allow myself to feel any sort of satisfaction.”

“Don’t you think my madness is part of me, now?” I muttered, gazing off towards the house. The curtain in the kitchen moved, but I knew it wasn’t Mrs Humphrey. She was out in town with my mother at this hour. Doctor Jeong inhaled sharply, then closed his notebook loudly. The paper made a noisy sound, making me look over to him. The man looked aggravated as if my question had bothered him immensely, but I was merely curious about how he viewed me.

“Perhaps we should continue tomorrow, Miss Harold, and we must proceed with the story. The committee is pressing me with questions, they are very curious to hear the full story.” The doctor was avoiding my question, that was unusual. He stood, brushed the dirt off his trousers, then hastily grabbed his satchel bag and clumsily placed the notebook and his pencil inside.

“Thank you for indulging with me, Doctor Jeong.” I looked up at him, and had to shield my eyes from the sun, “I love sitting under the willow tree.”

“I will keep that in mind, Miss Harold, have a nice afternoon.” The doctor then bowed his head and I mirrored his actions, then he was rushing back towards the house, looking a little rigid. Karina stood in the doorway to the tea room, a tray filled with cookies and lemonade in her hands, but Doctor Jeong merely nodded at her and left the house in haste. Karina’s glare could be felt even from the distance, and I gently stood to head back inside, keeping the arrangement in mind. I wasn’t supposed to be unsupervised, I knew Carla would be in the laundry room if she had nothing else to do.

Yunho couldn’t sleep. He kept reading over and over his notes, all the small hidden messages making his head ache. His stomach growled in hunger, but he was physically unable to stand from his study and ask the housekeeper to prepare dinner for him. The girl was frail, she was soft-spoken but witty. She liked to keep him on his toes, and she was great at making him lose track of what was most important. He felt like he was making no progress, yet the committee kept pressing him for an answer. Father Louis was understanding enough not to ambush him with questions daily, but the rest of the officials weren’t. They wanted a diagnosis of Miss Harold already, they didn’t want to understand that Yunho couldn’t give his verdict in anything but a week. Building trust took time, getting to hear the unfiltered truth from someone who loved to play with her words took patience. Yunho was a patient person, but he wondered how long he had until he’d break. Whenever he closed his eyes, he felt as if she was watching him, standing over him, smiling at him. Her skin was sun-kissed and sometimes her cheeks were burnt from staying out in the sun for too long, but Yunho knew her skin would be soft. When he had twisted and turned his napkin into shapes, absentmindedly, he realised he had made a ballerina out of it. Thus, he had made his first mistake as a professional. He had allowed himself to sympathise with Miss Harold. He had allowed himself to notice her smile was brighter than the sun itself, and that she smelled an awful lot like those hydrangeas that Yunho was allergic to. And he had allowed himself to notice the tremors of her hands, making him yearn to hold her frail hands between his with the hopes of soothing her nerves. Yunho wondered if she yearned for him like she had yearned for her once lover.

The clouds were almost black as they expanded over the horizon. The wind was too cold for us to keep the grand doors of the tea room open, so they remained closed as I sat on the soft sofa, gazing out through the glass. Matilda had left the curtains undrawn for me, and a few scented candles were lit to ease my muscles' tension. I couldn’t focus lately, these past three days my mood had quickly reclined. I know the doctor had noticed it too, but he didn’t prod more than it would be considered rude. I was reluctant to tell him the cause of my moroseness, he wasn’t here to listen to me weep about how unfairly Karina treated me. She had been ruthless these past three days. I knew she had a vendetta against me, but ever since the doctor started coming here, she had been progressively getting worse and worse. I could handle it until I couldn’t. If I ignored her and got lost in a deep spot in the back of my mind filled with happy memories, I would end up with a backhanded slap to my face. If I talked back and stood my ground, I would only fuel her fire, giving her power over me. Karina was clever, she knew when to strike. If my mother was around us, she was an angel. If the servants were watching, she’d be sharp and arrogant towards me. If Mr. Brooks was present, she didn’t bother hiding her disdain, but she wasn’t as straightforward as around the servants.

She didn’t hold back one bit if it was just the two of us. My eyes were lost on the gloomy visage, eyes tracking the swaying vines of the willow tree. It was even more beautiful in the eyes of the storm, I could’ve stared at it for hours on end. My mind was silent like this, absent of all the turbulent thoughts that shook me to my core and kept me up at night, when Matilda, poor girl, struggled to stay up and look over me. Just last night, she had fallen asleep, and I was grateful because I had a moment to myself where I could secretly slip away and walk through the gardens in hopes of clearing my mind. It wasn’t a smart decision, however, because I couldn’t remember anything after I stepped through the threshold of the house. I just know sometime later I was gasping for air as my arms were restricted and my throat was scratchy, Mr Brooks desperately trying to hold down my trashing body. My white nightgown was dirty with mud and the ends of it were dripping wet with pond water. It wasn’t foreign that I would lose consciousness if something lay heavily on my chest and gnawed at my thoughts, but it had been long since I had lost track of myself so deeply. Not since the incident, at least.

And Karina was enjoying it, her lips pulled into a nasty smirk as my mother cried by my side, asking Matilda and Leia to bring cold towels and help me clean up. Mr Brooks had looked tired as he gently helped me back to my room and tucked me into bed, his eyes pained and suffering as if I was blood-related to him. His expression made me feel guilty for worrying not just my mother, but also him. I felt terrible, yet I couldn’t control my mind or my body when these episodes happened. Even now, as I sat on the sofa waiting for the doctor to arrive, I felt lightheaded and on the brink of losing consciousness. My body felt light and heavy simultaneously, and I could feel my pulse in my neck. My lips felt chapped no matter how much tea I drank, and my throat was tight. I wanted to see the doctor, I needed to tell him why I had done what I had done. I had always been too afraid to confess the truth, not wanting to hurt my mother and break up the second family she cherished. But I also couldn’t continue living like this, not when Karina prayed for my downfall. Her harsh words from yesterday were still fresh in my mind, and I had to blink the tears away for a second.

“I know you’re just a whore, desperate to find another man to toy with.” She had spat with flushed cheeks, a cup filled halfway with wine in her hand, “Do you seriously think that doctor wants to touch you? You’re a deranged woman now, Y/N, nobody will want you. Not even Doctor Jeong Yunho, you whore. I won’t let you have him too, you always get what you want—but not this time, Y/N, mark my words.”

And just when I had thought she was done, she had marched up to me and grabbed me by the throat harshly, making me gasp, “If he doesn’t send you to an asylum, I will kill you myself, Y/N. You’re an abomination and a disgrace, even your own mother hates you, whore.”

The knock at the door startled me, I had been lost deep in thought. I turned my head and noticed Matilda giving me a small smile, “Young miss, the doctor is here to see you. Would you like me to prepare anything for you two?”

My heart skipped a beat, but I couldn’t tell why. Perhaps because I knew he’d take my mind off things, even if I was forced to relive the past I tried to bury deep down, sequences I couldn’t even remember anymore. Or, maybe, it was because I desperately wished to gaze upon his soft face, lose myself in his warm and round eyes peeking at me over his small spectacles. I couldn’t decide which was the reason, but I needed his presence to calm my turbulent mind and body finally.

“Thank you. I will welcome him inside, and you can take a break.” I stood up, hands balling into fists as nausea washed over me, “We won’t need anything, but I hope you get some sleep, Matilda. You’ve been watching over me for three days.”

“That is my duty, young miss.” Then she bowed her head before I could tell her she needed to take care of herself, and she took her leave. I smoothed down my long-sleeved dark blue dress now that the weather wasn’t as warm as days ago. I hadn’t pulled my hair into a bun today, even if it was not ladylike, I wished to feel my copper strands brushing against my cheeks when I moved my head. It shielded my face like a curtain if I didn’t want to be seen, I hoped Doctor Jeong wouldn’t mind.

Sucking in a deep breath and bracing myself, I left the tea room in search of the doctor, who should have been in the foyer, getting rid of his coat and dress shoes, but instead, he wasn’t there. I paused for a second to listen for his voice, and a smile pulled at my lips when I realised he was in the living room. Perhaps we could hold our session inside there today, I could play the piano and show him my favourite piece, if that, of course, was deemed fine by the doctor. As my fingers brushed against the wooden door, about to push it further open, I realised the doctor wasn’t alone. Karina’s sweet giggles flooded the room before she continued speaking.

“Surely, Doctor. I am pleased to hear you do not burn yourself out by coming here daily. I can only imagine how tiring it must be to listen to my sister, she’s rarely coherent. You must have noticed, given that you are a doctor, that she often has no idea where she is or who she is talking to. She tends to get lost in her own mind and blabber on about nonsense.” Karina then paused as my heart raced, my eyebrows furrowed in distaste, “She looks completely normal upon first glance, but it quickly becomes obvious she’s—well, she’s insane, you know?”

“I’m sorry, Miss Brooks, I cannot be discussing this with you.” Doctor Jeong’s voice was neutral, and cold, unlike the tone he used with me, “But as a licensed doctor, given that I am one, I can tell when her surroundings influence her mood, or why she is in a bad headspace.”

Karina scoffed, sounding a little offended, “Are you insinuating anything right now, Doctor Jeong? I don’t need a license to be able to tell that my sister is insane. How long until you realise she’s just trying to trap you here, twirl you up into her web of lies and fantasies? If you think you can help a mad person, Doctor, I fear you should seek help too. She’s beyond help, she’s desperate and pathetic, and as I have stated, she’s mad—”

“I am not mad!” Before I could stop myself, I let my anger take over me as I barged through the ajar room, “I am not insane, Karina, you’re always putting words in my mouth! Who has ruined everything I have ever had, huh?! You, you did, so don’t call me your sister. I am not your sister, and I will never be, you filthy skank!”

Karina gasped loudly, her hand flying up to her mouth. The doctor’s eyes had widened too, clearly taken aback by my outburst. I had been soft-spoken and kind in front of him, careful to not show anything he could incriminate me with in front of the committee. Karina had gotten what she wanted all this time, I suppose. Now, the doctor would make an early report that wasn’t favourable for me without even hearing the truth, or as much as I could remember of it. I gulped, feeling ashamed as tears filled my eyes, but I tried to keep myself from crying. Karina wailing like a banshee next to Doctor Jeong was more than humiliating enough to force me to keep myself in place.

“Enough,” The doctor snapped, his friendly and soft features morphing into something of anger and vexation. For a second, I thought it was directed towards me, but then he turned his head and his warm chocolate brown eyes fell on Karina, now sharp, “This is the last time I let you off the hook, Miss Brooks. If you don’t stop treating your sister so poorly, I will have to write you up on the board as the main suspect that causes Miss Harold’s turbulent manic episodes to occur, is that what you want? Do you wish to also be psychologically evaluated? I can do that, I can get one of my colleagues to come out here and question you, but you might be surprised to find yourself deemed insane too.”

Doctor Jeong’s words visibly shook Karina as she crumbled into an armchair, fingers sinking into her hair as she shook her head at the doctor, crocodile tears streaming down her cheeks pathetically. My heart was racing in my chest, the doctor was all I could see. His flushed cheeks from anger, his whitening knuckles around the strap of his satchel bag, his rapidly rising and falling chest—Jeong Yunho had stood up for me, taken my side. He was my doctor, he was supposed to look out for me, but he wasn’t obligated to protect me from claims that might be true. I didn’t feel insane, I never had, but Karina might still be right. Maybe I was a danger to society and Doctor Jeong hadn’t discovered why yet. It was only a matter of time until I exploded in his face, showing him my true colours. I had no idea what I was fully capable of, that part of my memory was still absent, but I could never forget the feeling of pure satisfaction and elation as I watched Karina lay on her back, gasping for air as blood trailed from her nose down to her mouth, chin, and then neck.

Doctor Jeong sighed loudly, his eyebrows furrowed as he licked his lips, shaking his head in almost disappointment at Karina. Then, he faced me and his features instantly softened. My heart raced again, and I hid my hands behind my back. Then, without many words, he came closer to me and nodded with his chin towards the stairs, “Would you mind if we skipped the tea room today, I’d like a more private setting.”

I gulped, feeling lightheaded once again, “No, the storm ruins the pretty visage either way.”

The doctor hummed as I turned around and took off towards the stairs, his strong footsteps loud behind me. My hands trembled as we ascended the creaky old stairs, my fingertips tracing the old railing. Doctor Jeong’s fingers were close to mine, tracing the same pattern as mine, so close yet so far away at the same time. I exhaled softly and tried to keep a clear head, but my nausea was getting worse as I led the way to my bedroom. My mother would’ve been outraged by the idea of leading a man inside my room, but this was the doctor, he was here to help. I couldn’t think of a more private room than my own bedroom, the heavy door closed and locked once we were inside. The doctor seemed to tense when he heard the lock, his back to me. I felt exposed, a little naked, now that the man was in my intimate space. There wasn’t much to my room except for a desk filled with books and poorly done sketches, and a vase filled with daisies and tulips. The doctor headed for my desk, meanwhile, I headed for my bed. The sheets were satin and silky as I lowered myself onto the edge of my bed, letting my hands sink into the fabric. With a questioning glance, the doctor turned my chair around to face me and sunk into it with a heavy sigh.

“I apologise.” My eyebrows rose in surprise as I tilted my head in question, “For letting your sister speak like that of you, I should have never let her go that far. I shouldn’t have even let her corner me like that and-and—it doesn’t matter. I understand if you need space after this, I might be able to convince the committee to give me a few more weeks.”

“She’s not my sister.” I whispered as I wrung my trembling fingers together, looking down in my lap, “Karina is not my blood sister, Doctor Jeong. I might have viewed her once as a sister, but not anymore.”

The doctor fumbled around for his notebook and pencil, which had gotten smaller from having sharpened it so often. The doctor’s eyebrows were furrowed as he pushed the spectacles up on the bridge of his perfect nose.

“Does this have to do anything with what happened on that day?” The doctor’s voice was gentle, understanding even. I bit my lower lip and nodded slowly, feeling my head swarm around uncontrollably. Would he know what to do with me if I were to pass out? He is a doctor, after all, but Matilda is the one who knows me best, perhaps I shouldn’t have locked the door.

“She-she really—hurt me that day, and I—” My throat felt dry as my lungs started heaving for air, “I don’t know—maybe I did want her to di-die—I can’t do this right now, Doctor Jeong, I’m sorry.”

Doctor Jeong’s bottom lip was between his teeth as he suddenly let his notebook rest on the desk behind him. He leaned forward, lowering his head as he tried to make eye contact with me. I gulped and kept my gaze focused on my tremor-ridden hands, “Listen to me, Miss Harold, we don’t have to talk about it today. I’m just here to chat, I can tell you are not feeling well. Your mother informed me through a letter that you had hurt yourself last night, may I know what happened? Can you tell me? I won’t even take notes, just this one time.”

I gulped, slowly raising my eyes to look up at the doctor. He wore a tight beige shirt today with a dark blue vest over it, his pants snugly fitting his long legs. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his elbows, showcasing his fair and smooth skin, veins bulging through. The wristwatch on his left hand looked fancy, the leather a very dark blue to match his vest. Doctor Jeong’s dark hair was swept back once again, but it looked fluffier today. I itched to reach out and run my fingers through his hair, wanting to feel its softness for myself. I tensed my muscles before I could do anything stupid like that. The doctor’s cheeks were slightly flushed, and his tooth was leaving a small white dent in his bottom lip. Because he was leaning forward, there was less distance between us, but still respectable. Like between doctor and patient.

“I—” I chewed on my bottom lip before taking a deep breath, “I haven’t been feeling well lately, Doctor, so I couldn’t sleep last night. I went for a walk and…I don’t remember what I did or what happened. Sometimes I lose consciousness while I’m awake, it’s frightening. I woke up with a muddied nightgown and a cut on my arm, Matilda had patched me up though.”

“How often does this happen?”

“Not that often.”

“Do you have an idea what may cause it?

“Well, yes. I think it’s Karina, she’s been antagonising me for the past three days and I’m so tired of it all. I just disassociate when I see her approaching me now, I’m sorry.”

The doctor sighed, rubbing his bottom lip with his thumb. His spectacles had slipped lower once again, “Do not apologise, you haven’t done anything wrong. I’m just glad you’re alright, Miss Harold.”

“The thought of you visiting daily keeps me afloat, Doctor Jeong, I have something to look forward to now.” I smiled, widely, and the doctor’s eyes widened before he blinked rapidly, looking stunned. Afraid the moment of lightness would pass by before I could grasp it, I continued, “Would you mind telling me your story today? What it’s like where you are from? How you were as a child? Is that…is that unprofessional? Are we not allowed to speak about you, Doctor?”

Doctor Jeong’s gulp was loud, then he took a deep breath and slowly leaned back in his chair, his legs spreading wide. He looked conflicted for just one second, but upon a glance at my face, he gave in. I couldn’t help but beam at the doctor as he chuckled, taking his spectacles off to place them on the desk behind himself.

“Where should I even start?” He hummed, looking towards the window, lost in thought. He was gorgeous, and he was kind. I hadn’t met a man like him before, I wished to trace my fingers along his jawline, but Karina was right. I couldn’t be a whore, not with this man, “As a child I was energetic and always blabbering on about whatever was inside my mind. I liked to ask a lot of questions, but I was reprimanded often for being too curious. Life is…different in South Korea at this time, very much different compared to how things run here. I am lucky I managed to sail so far away, my family has made great sacrifices for me to end up here. I’m not even able to send them often letters, it’s too risky.”

“Why?”

“Because they are in hiding, our belief in God is frowned upon, Catholics aren’t safe there now.” To prove a point, Doctor Jeong grabbed the silver cross underneath his shirt and brought it forward, clutching it tightly in his hands, “I can bravely say it here despite the other religions that exist, nobody has tried to murder me for it, so far. Besides, I cannot tell whether they still live where we did before I managed to sneak onto a French ship and escape. The elite class isn’t like the one here, it’s falling apart and I cannot be sure that my family are still part of it today.”

My eyebrows furrowed as an ashen look crossed the doctor’s face, “Do you miss your home?”

“Yes and no,” The doctor answered truthfully, “I was young when I sailed here, I had nothing and no one until my foster father found me. He was a Dutchman, very kind but unforgiving. I got lucky because he was a doctor and I came here to study advanced medicine with the hopes of once returning home and spreading the word, but I cannot go back, not yet. They’d shun me away, shame me and possibly kill me. South Korea isn’t welcoming of strangers yet, and in their eyes, I’d be one too for leaving our homeland only to return with new doctrines. Even if it means saving hundreds of lives. Not that I work with the physical body, but everyone needs someone who can soothe their soul once in a while.”

“You’re beyond courageous, Doctor Jeong, I admire you.” I sounded breathless as I closely listened to the doctor, making sure no word he uttered slipped by my ears. I wanted to know more about him, who he was and why he chose to be here. I couldn’t imagine being on my own, out on the streets, away from my mother, “I promise not to waste your time here, I’m almost at the end of my story.”

“I know, Miss Harold,” Doctor Jeong smiled softly, “Rather an acquittance than your doctor, I’d like to tell you that I look forward to our sessions. You are easy to connect with, and you don’t make it hard for me to glimpse inside your mind. I cannot say I understand each choice you’ve made, but that’s the beauty of having free will and individual thoughts, it sets us apart and makes us unique.”

I couldn’t help but blush as I averted my gaze from his intense one, feeling shy all of a sudden. The doctor wasn’t calling me specifically unique, but the implication was there, and I couldn’t help myself but imagine, “What about your home? What was that like, Doctor Jeong? And your family?”

For a second, he was silent. It made me think I had offended him in some way, but then his eyebrows slightly furrowed and he looked serious, “Since I am not talking to you as your doctor, you should just call me Yunho, if I may…Y/N?”

Hearing my name fall from his lips had my heart racing and my breath shuddering. I gulped, feeling speechless for a second as my eyes bore into Doctor Jeong’s, wondering if the man knew what it meant to drop such drastic formalities. But I obliged because I wanted his name to roll off my own lips like mine had done on his, desperate to fortify this frail bond between the two of us, doctor and patient, “Right, of course…Yunho.”

Doctor Jeong’s eyes fluttered shut for a second, his gulp was loud. I watched redness coat his ears down to his neck, his fingers digging into the wooden armrests. He was still wearing the silver band around his middle finger, I wondered whose it was. Was it from someone back home? Or was it from his foster father?

“Right, Y/N, well my home certainly was smaller than your house, and also built with different architecture in mind. And people don’t wear these fancy suits at home, we have our own traditional clothes that we proudly wear. I still have the one I arrived in tucked away as a means to never forget where I come from.” Doctor Jeong—Yunho—smiled softly, eyes glazed over with memories as he spoke quietly, almost as if to himself, “I have a younger brother, he’s the loveliest. I didn’t want to leave him home, not even my father and mother, but we would’ve been discovered if we were to run away together. My mother sent me off sobbing, clutching me to her chest and wondering if we’d see each other ever again. My father was a stoic man, but he had cried too. He had enough faith in me and God to know I’d make it out alive and become what they sent me away for. I left a dear friend behind too, but he promised to follow me one day. I do not know if we’ll see each other, perhaps he’s wandering around on a completely different continent, but at least I have something of his with me.”

My eyes flickered towards the silver band Yunho was absentmindedly playing with, his lips set in a tight line. So, the ring was from someone he dearly loved and cherished, I wished I could reach out and pat his hand to offer him comfort. But Yunho’s solemn look switched into one of contentment as he looked at me again, “Our house was in a lovely neighbourhood, filled with silence and the chirping of birds each early morning. Our servants were few, so they lived with us, and they had quickly become part of the family too. I would play in the dirt with my brother when our mother was busy in the kitchen, overlooking the cooks while also helping out. Our father worked long hours but he always returned with fresh flowers for my mother and some sort of western delicacy nobody was allowed to know about. I would often take walks on the beach, if there’s anything I miss terribly, it’s the wide sea and the calmness it brought with itself.”

“I love sailing,” I muttered, tucking my hands underneath my thighs as I hummed, “Despite what’s happened to my father, I find solace in the sea. It silences my fears, much like taking walks in the garden does. I feel like I belong to nature, that I can easily become one with it.”

“Nature is a beautiful place,” Yunho hummed, swiping his thumb against his bottom lip, watching me closely, “You’d love exploring the world.”

I chuckled sadly, “I would, Yunho, but I’m forced to rot away in this house under the very eyes of my servants and family. I can’t even be left alone here, sometimes I want it all to stop. Tell me, have you travelled a lot?”

Yunho looked abashed as he shrugged one shoulder, “Enough to see all sorts of places, people, and cases. Not each one had a happy ending, but I had learned something from each of them, so it was worth it in the end.”

“I wish to see the world, Yunho. I don’t want to be caged in here anymore. Could you set me free—no, will you set me free, Yunho?”

“I—I’ll try, I really will, Y/N. If you tell me the truth, I can help you and write a promising report on your case. But you have to be transparent with me for that to happen.”

“What if they don’t agree with you? See me as unstable and a danger to society, what then? Will I require a caretaker still?”

“I’m afraid, yes. Perhaps you’ll have even more severe surveillance, I’m sorry. I truly promise to do my best, but you have to trust me.”

“And what if…what if you became my caretaker?”

The silence that followed my question felt heavy, it felt wrong. I shouldn’t have asked that, but I was desperate to know how far Doctor Jeong would go to prove I wasn’t insane. And perhaps, a hidden sadistic part of me wanted to know just what exactly the doctor would do for me, to me.

“That would imply you are very unstable, I don’t think I’ve ever heard of such a thing.” Doctor Jeong breathed out, reaching for his spectacles.

“But would you become my caretaker?” I whispered, gazing up into his eyes with yearning as the doctor abruptly stood, “I wish to see the world, the places you go to. I wish to see South Korea once you’re allowed to go back, Yunho. Would you take me with you?”

He was packing his things frantically, breathing through his mouth loudly, “I cannot tell, Miss Harold, it implies great responsibility to look over someone unstable. Given if you were the object of my desires, I wouldn’t even consider becoming your caretaker, but I’m your doctor and it’s inappropriate.”

“Isn’t it only inappropriate if you make it that?” I stood, facing the doctor before he could run off. He looked conflicted and angry, so I backed off, “My apologies, I have taken you for granted and stepped over our boundaries as doctor and patient. I hope I haven’t made you too uncomfortable, Doctor Jeong, that’s not what I wished to do. I hope you can forgive me.”

“I will be back tomorrow, and you must tell me what happened, Miss Harold.” With a nod of his head, the doctor was at my door, quickly unlocking it, but he didn’t twist the knob right away. He took a deep breath and released it with a whisper, “And I would become your caretaker, if I could.”

His footsteps echoed through the house just as lightning struck in the distance. I walked to the window and watched the doctor get onto the motorcar as his butler drove away, trying to avoid the storm. And then, just like that, the world started spinning as blackness threatened to coat my vision.

My knuckles were bloody from having picked at the skin consistently since I was awake. The tremors from my hand have extended to my whole body, my head felt underwater. I couldn’t understand what was happening around me, but I jumped each time thunder rumbled the earth. I know I had been placed on a chair in front of the window in my bedroom, Matilda sitting in the corner with my mother regularly checking on me, but I couldn’t tell what was being said to me or done around me. I didn’t have an appetite this morning, and getting out of bed was harder than ever before. I knew something was wrong, that something had disturbed my peace of mind, but I had no idea what this sudden change in my mood meant. I tried to break through the veil of haziness and speak to Matilda, tell her that my head was throbbing and my joints ached from how wrung up my body was, but my lips formed no words. I tried using the breathing technique Mrs Humphrey had once taught me, but nothing was working. I wasn’t able to control my body, and it was only making me more anxious.

The door to my room opened, but I continued to look out the window absentmindedly, bracing myself for the loud rumble when lightning struck again. After the doctor left yesterday, it hadn’t stopped raining ever since. I knew he couldn’t make it today, but he was determined enough to push through the storm and visit me. Unless it was a serious issue that needed to be urgently taken care of, the doctor never cancelled our session. The thought of seeing him when I felt so unwell managed to calm my racing heart, but until he was actually standing in front of me and I could gaze into his deep eyes, I couldn’t help but take shallow breaths as my muscles tensed up even more.

“Look at you,” It was Karina’s voice unmistakably, “trembling and sweating like a dying child, aren’t you? Who are you acting for, hm? The doctor isn’t here, Y/N, no need to act all pitiful like this, nobody in this house cares about you.”

Her voice was crystal clear for some reason, it made my ears ring as I released a shuddering breath. My mind was so askew that I couldn’t even answer her, I just needed a warm embrace and a deep voice to whisper that everything was fine. Did nobody care about me? That was so depressing, it brought tears to my eyes.

“Besides, he’s not coming today.” I failed to inhale as Karina continued to speak, “He sent a letter to your mother that he couldn’t find a carriage in time, so he isn’t coming. How tragic, all this acting only for him to not witness it…”

The sound that left my mouth was quiet, but unmistakably a whimper. Matilda shifted in her armchair and cleared her throat. I could see Karina through the reflection of the window, she was smirking maliciously as she stared at the back of my head. She looked so pleased with herself, that it made tears stream down my cheeks. I wanted to say something, but the lump in my throat was getting tighter and tighter, I realised I had stopped breathing. Why wouldn’t Yunho come? Was he like Karina too, did he not care about me? Did he lie to me yesterday? Was I worth so little that he couldn’t take on being my caretaker? Why must this be my fate? Why must I be forced never to leave this estate, this house, trapped under the eyes of people who either hate me or pity me? I wanted to sob, but the more I tried to breathe, the quicker I realised dark spots had started appearing in my vision.

“I don’t know what you two do during your little sessions, but the committee has given him one more week before he has to make his final report,” Karina chuckled, I heard her coming closer, fingers gripping the back of my chair, “And then, he’ll be all mine. I already talked to my father and he considers Doctor Jeong a nice suitor, how exciting. You can’t have him, Y/N, and he won’t have you either. I see the way you look at him, you are pathetic.”

Karina’s warm breath fanned my ear and cheek as she whispered her last words, cackling like an evil witch in all those fairytales my mother had told me about. My mouth parted to inhale deeply, but the spots grew darker, becoming more.

“Miss Brooks, please,” I heard Matilda plead as she sprung up from her seat, “Leave young miss alone, she isn’t feeling well.”

“Oh, shut up, you silly goose!” Karina snapped at Matilda, throwing her a disgusted look, “You and everyone else who feeds into her delusions should be admitted to an asylum, get a grip! She’s fine, she just needs her daily dose of attention, stupid girl.”

Hearing the word asylum cracked something further inside me as I sprung up from my seat, eyes wide and body cold. I looked at where Matilda was standing, but all I could see was the face of the man who found great pleasure in cutting me open just to leave me bleeding and helpless. A scream tried to tear through my throat, but I lost my balance as I tumbled to the floor, fingers digging into the floorboards painfully. Someone shrieked as my stomach heaved, but there was nothing to empty. I could hear the man’s words, his tone unbearable and scratchy as he told me I was worthless and a whore, hungry for male attention ever since my father had died. It made my skin crawl, it made me feel dirty and disgusting as I tried to scrape at my arms.

“Mrs Harold!” I could hear the panicked screams, but I couldn’t tell where I was anymore. I felt caged and in danger, like someone was leering over my shoulder, waiting for me to pass out so I could be targeted. I whimpered when I felt hands on my back and tried to slap them away, but I was forcefully hauled up to my feet. A wail finally tore through my lips, and I started trashing around when I felt myself being lifted off the floor and carried somewhere.

“No! No, stop!” I screamed, my voice nothing but a screech as my nails sunk into whoever was carrying me, “Don’t take me back there! I haven’t done anything, please! No—no! I didn’t mean to—I don’t know—wait, no, please, I’m sorry, stop!”

My body sunk into something very soft and warm as fingertips pressed into my skin, forcefully prying my eyes wide open. My lungs heaved for air as I tried to get away from whoever was touching me, but I couldn’t, they were stronger. They were always stronger, I could never get away. They would never leave me alone, I was always their little experiment. They would cut me open as if I was a rat, they would ask me questions and whip me even if I told the truth, they liked to touch me and make me beg for them to stop…I wanted to die. I couldn’t do this anymore. Why would they torture me like this? Did my mother not love me? Had my father’s ghost abandoned me?

“Please.” I managed to whisper when my body finally froze up, all fight leaving it. My muscles and joints ached, my heart thumped wildly, and I couldn’t hear my thoughts anymore.

“My baby, please, stop.” A female voice pleaded above me, “Nobody is hurting you, tell me what’s wrong, baby. I’m here, your mother is here, please.”

How could my mother be here? The asylum didn’t let anyone visit us. My eyes burned when I opened them, but I couldn’t see well, they were filled with tears. There, looming above me stood the one man I yearned for. His eyes were kind and brown like the most expensive Swiss chocolate, his skin fair with a rosy flush to his cheeks that made him endearing, small spectacles slipping down the perfect slope of his petite nose. The doctor was here.

“Yunho, save me.” My voice was barely audible as I croaked out my words, but I noticed my mother’s eyes widening before I drifted off to the darkness that had come to claim my body. Here, nobody could hurt me.

But even in my dreams, the miscreants wouldn’t leave me alone. I couldn’t tell where I was due to the darkness that enveloped me, but I felt frozen down to the bone. My summer dress did nothing to keep me warm, and the little friction to my arms only caused me to shiver more. I tried to call out to see if anyone was there with me, but my vocal cords wouldn’t even croak. My heart was racing and my eyes burned, I could tell I was in danger but I couldn’t see because of what. The impending doom I felt, however, said to me that I needed to run and that I needed to run now. So, I didn’t wait around as I grabbed the skirt of my dress and aimlessly took off, unable to see anything due to the permeating darkness. My feet hurt from all the little rocks that cut into it, and then something touched my cheek that made me cry out. It was warm, almost scorching hot against my frozen skin. There were whispers around me that I couldn’t make out, or understand even if I concentrated on them, but then one of them started making sense. It made more sense than the others, its timber familiar and warm, kind. Then, I could feel fingers tracing my left cheek, a calming hum easing my tense muscles until I could finally take a deep breath. It burned my lungs, it felt as if I was inhaling for the first time.

“Open your eyes, Miss Harold.” Then, just so that I only could hear it, the familiar voice whispered, “I’m here.”

A gasp tore through my lips as my eyes flew open, jolting me awake as I sat, frantically looking around. It was a lot darker in the room than the last time I was conscious, and the rain was hitting the roof of the house harder than before. Matilda, my mother, Mr Brooks, and Mrs Humphrey all stood at the foot of my bed, different emotions reigning on their faces. As I made eye contact with my mother, she let out a loud sob as she fell into Mr Brooks’ arms, and I felt my lower lip trembling. I hated seeing her in a state like that, worrying over me. Before I could cry too, my head was gently turned to the side until all I could see was the doctor. My mouth opened in shock as the doctor looked at me with sad, but worried, eyes, a wet rag clutched tightly in his other hand.

“Yunho.” My throat felt scratchy as I reached out incredulously, wondering whether I was just hallucinating. I noticed my bloody knuckles were bandaged now, ointment placed on the nightstand table next to my bed, “You are here? Really here?”

“Yes, Miss Harold.” He smiled gently, hesitantly letting me touch his jaw, “How are you feeling?”

“Sick,” I said before I could mule over my answer. My stomach was aching and my head was thumping, “I don’t know what happened to me, Doctor, I cannot remember.”

“Don’t try to remember now, your body and mind are overwhelmed,” Doctor Jeong then gently guided me to lay down in my bed once again, “You need to relax, Miss Harold. You fainted, and Miss Matilda has told me you haven’t eaten all day long, that’s unhealthy.”

“I’m sorry.” I felt like a child being chastised by their parent for the first time, except that Doctor Jeong’s face didn’t look even a little bit angry like my mother’s had back then, “I thought I would throw up if I ate anything, still do.”

The doctor hummed, then slightly turned to look back at the others in the room, “Mrs Humphrey, can you bring me that tea I asked you to brew? It will greatly help Miss Harold right now.”

“It’s storming outside, why did you come?” My eyebrows furrowed as I watched the doctor’s serene face, his spectacles were missing and his hair was a wavy mess on top of his head. Looking further down, I realised he wasn’t wearing his fancy suit. Instead, the doctor wore a beige tunic with the strings undone, showing a silver of his collarbones and chest. His silver cross dangled between his pecks whenever he moved forward to check for my temperature, letting the cold rag ease the thumping of my head. The doctor’s boots were still on his feet and looked muddy, but nobody was paying attention to that as he sat on the edge of my bed, taking care of me.

“I’m a doctor, my duty is to ensure my patients are healthy and safe.” Then he glanced back at my mother and Mr Brooks, Matilda had left the room with Mrs Humphrey, “You scared everyone, you scared me, Miss Harold.”

“Thank you for coming, but what you did was unsafe, Doctor Jeong.” I gulped, eyebrows furrowing in worry, “How will you get back home?”

“He will sleep here tonight, sweetheart.” Mr Brooks answered for the doctor, looking just as worried as I felt, “Can’t let him go out in this bad weather, it’s risky. I will ask the maids to make dinner for you, Doctor Jeong. The guestroom is already being prepared, your butler can sleep with the rest of the servants, if that is alright.”

“Yes, thank you for your hospitality.” Doctor Jeong bowed his head, smiling at Mr Brooks, “I’m sorry to say this, but Miss Harold should rest now and the more of us are in the room, the bigger the risk of overwhelming her is.”

“Oh, of course.” My mother whispered, her eyes glossy again, “Rest, my dear.”

I hummed as I watched her and Mr Brooks leave, leaving me alone with Doctor Jeong as the door closed after the two exited the room. I sighed long, looking at the doctor as he removed the rag from my forehead to wring it in more cold water. We said nothing as he placed the rag back onto my forehead, gently removing wet hair strands from my cheeks. He sat close to my body, but his eyes avoided looking into mine. I gulped, trying to find the right words to say just as there was a knock at the door. Doctor Jeong told them to come in and Matilda came inside with a tray and a cup of tea. She offered me a sad smile as she placed the cup of tea on the nightstand.

“Get some rest tonight, Matilda.”

“But you are not feeling well, young miss.”

“This is an order, how long until you faint from exhaustion? Please, I won’t leave my bed tonight, you shouldn’t either.” The maid looked hesitant, but didn’t say anything other than a quiet ‘thank you’, and then she was out of my room, closing the door after herself.

“Someone should check on you tonight, though.” Doctor Jeong said quietly as he helped me sit up, puffing up the pillows behind my back. He grabbed the cup of tea and handed it to me. It was still hot, its scent herbal. My nose twitched as I took a whiff of it before tasting it, cringing away from it, “It tastes horrible, I know, but it’s very good for your health. Drink it.”

It tasted so bitter I thought I would throw up on the spot, but it was supposed to make me feel better, so I toughened up and drank it as quickly as possible. The doctor watched me as I placed the cup on the nightstand, looking a little amused. I wrung my fingers together and placed them in my lap, looking down at my hands. I felt guilty for having forced the doctor to come all this way in such bad weather, yet he was looking at me with kind eyes and a soft smile.

“How do you feel now?” He asked, turning his body more to face me.

“Slightly better, my head isn’t thumping as violently as before, thank you.” I answered, sinking back into the pillows and cushions, “I think—this could be a grave accusation, but what if Karina is the reason I am like this?”

I couldn’t meet the doctor’s eyes as I chewed on my bottom lip, my thoughts whirling around too quickly for me to comprehend them. The doctor froze for a second, then I saw a hand reach out, only to settle on the blanket next to my thigh. I could feel Doctor Jeong’s body heat through the blanket, I wished he had placed his hand over my thigh instead.

“Why do you think that, Miss Harold?”

“May I call you Yunho?”

“Of course, Y/N.”

For a second, I paused and looked up with a smile. Yunho was already looking at me with a small smile on his lips, and I huffed a little embarrassed. Seeing him dressed so casually was doing something weird to me, my heart raced from excitement as I felt shy all of a sudden.

“Just like on that day, she was saying bad things to me again, antagonising me. I know she hates me, but I get so angry around her that sometimes I can’t even form words.” I gulped, eyebrows slightly furrowing as Yunho’s fingers twitched next to my thigh, “I wasn’t feeling well all day, but then she started speaking and I just—she brought the asylum up and I was back there again, being terrorised and touched—I can’t talk about it, I’m sorry, Yunho.”

“Let’s not talk about it, then.” Yunho’s jaw was clenched as he licked his lips, his forehead creasing as he leaned slightly forward.

“I don’t remember anything after that, even her words are muddy.” I felt helpless as my eyes bore into Yunho’s understanding ones, “Matilda was there the whole time, you can ask her what happened, I’m sure she’ll tell you everything. She hates Karina as much as I do, she wouldn’t lie for her.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, Y/N.” Yunho nodded once, then tilted his head to the side. I gulped, feeling nervous for no reason, “Do you think you’ll be able to sleep tonight? Are you feeling tired?”

I hummed, playing around with my fingers as I looked down at my lap again. Yunho’s fingers were tapping the blanket, his breaths audible but even, “I feel spent, and I know I will be able to sleep, but I’m…scared to fall asleep alone.”

“I understand, I’ll let Mrs Harold know. Perhaps she could keep you company.”

“Yunho?”

“Yes, Y/N?”

“Can you stay until I fall asleep?”

My voice was quiet as I glanced up at Yunho through my eyelashes, feeling my cheeks heat up. He looked taken aback, then something I couldn’t recognise crossed his features for a split second. He exhaled through his mouth and gulped, loudly. He hummed, deep in his chest, and flattened his palm against the blanket as he shuffled his feet around until his muddy boots hit the ground. I realigned my pillows and crawled a little further away on my bed, to make more space for Yunho as he made himself comfortable, still on the edge of it.

“But I cannot stay once you are sleeping, I’m sorry.”

“I know, it’s alright, Yunho.”

Our smiles were small but appreciative. Yunho nodded and chewed on his bottom lip, his eyes raking over my face as I watched his cheeks flush a deep shade of red. It wasn’t warm in my room, but I suppose the sheets could make him feel warm too. His hand balled into a fist, grabbing a tight hold of the blanket as I glanced down at it.

“Sweet dreams, Y/N.”

“You too, Yunho.”

Every waking moment he spent thinking of her. Even in his dreams, she appears as a vixen, tempting Yunho to do unforgivable things. He knows he cannot, he’s her doctor and she’s a patient in desperate need of treatment. Yunho knows this, she isn’t his first case. He’s met people with manic episodes before, potential dissociative amnesia too, but something sets her apart from the rest. Yunho has never once in his life wanted to reach out and cradle one of his patients to his chest and tell them everything would be alright now that he was there. But when he saw her, so frail and generous, soft-spoken and kind, he couldn’t help but feel anger whenever she told him of Karina. Yunho had a feeling she wasn’t like that unprovoked, and the more he heard of Karina and her schemes against his patient, the more convinced he was that Karina had lied in the first place to get her into that asylum, far away from the safety of her home. Yunho knew what went down inside an asylum, he’s treated many mentally unstable patients before, straight inside those horror houses, and his blood boiled anytime he saw pain and terror strike upon her face whenever the asylum was mentioned. Yunho didn’t want to know, truth be told, what had happened to her there because he was sure he’d march up to that asylum and strangle every man who had hurt her. He was a doctor, his ego and fame protected him from making a mistake, but when she had led him inside her bedroom, Yunho was close to throwing it all out the window, quite literally. Her unique scent of hydrangeas had been so potent inside her bedroom, and her sitting daintily on the cushions of her queen-sized bed had his thoughts going haywire. Yunho wanted to touch her, not just tell her that she was safe and sound with him, but show her too. He was wanting and wanting, and he wondered if her story would have a happy ending. Could he save her from the madness they plastered over her head? Or would he dig her a bigger hole once the committee hears his verdict of her mental state? But what Yunho most importantly needed to sort out with himself, was the question that’s been mulling over in his head ever since she had uttered it. Would he be willing to become her caretaker? Just to keep her safe and away from Karina, of course, Yunho was a professional, above all. He told himself he didn’t have second intentions with her, but the more days passed by spent in her company, he couldn’t tell for sure anymore.

Karina was right about one thing, the committee had given Doctor Jeong one more week to sort out everything. He was right, I couldn’t beat around the bush anymore, besides, we had gotten close in my story to that faithful day. Doctor Jeong knew this, I knew it too. Because he was afraid of overwhelming me again too soon, he had given me two days of bed rest before he’d return to resume our sessions. The two days had gone by and I was nervously waiting for him in the foyer. After the storm passed, the heat returned even stronger. I didn’t wish to stay in the house, it aggravated me anytime I glanced towards the stairs, Karina’s injured body lying by the foot of it too clear in my mind. The doctor’s patent motorcar was louder today than other days as it rolled to the front of the house, where he was welcomed by Mr Allen, the gardener. He was an elderly man who had grown fond of Doctor Jeong like many others in the household. Myself included, which would explain why my heart was beating uncontrollably once again, sweat brimming my eyebrows.

“Will you be alright?” Leia asked as she shuffled past behind me, fresh bedsheets in her arms, “I don’t think Matilda will survive one of your episodes.”

Leia had no mal-intentions, she was just honest down to a pulp. I chuckled, glancing at her as she had stopped in the doorway to the laundry room.

“I might not survive another episode, too.” Leia’s eyes widened guiltily, but I continued to smile, “If the doctor writes a good report about me, I’ll finally be out of your hair, Leia. Pray for it.”

“I don’t believe in God, young miss.”

“Don’t let Doctor Jeong know that.”

Speaking of the devil, his knuckles rasped against the sturdy front door as Leia grinned, disappearing inside the laundry room. I opened the door before the doctor could knock again, welcoming him with a bright smile on my face. He paused, looking taken aback.

“Good morning, Doctor Jeong.” I greeted him, stepping aside to let him walk inside.

“Good morning, Miss Harold, you seem to be doing fine.” He returned a small smile as he shrugged his blazer off, wearing another tunic but fancier this time. It was a deep green, paired with his brown trousers which made him look like he was a huntsman returning from a long hunt to his wife, jittery to have her in his arms. I gulped, feeling embarrassed by my thoughts when I realised, I had imagined myself as the wife Doctor Jeong would return home to. It was inappropriate, but the thought was intrusive and fast before I could stop it.

“Thank you for letting me rest, it has helped.” I hummed, raising a hand when the doctor went to step out of his polished shoes, “Do you mind if we sit underneath the willow tree today?”

“Not at all,” The doctor beamed, taking me off guard, “I was just about to suggest it, you know we cannot postpone today’s topic. Being in a place you love might bring comfort, I hope, at least.”

“You are thoughtful,” I smiled, then led the way towards the tea room, the grand doors were pulled open, letting inside the fresh warm breeze. Mr Allen was in the doorway, trimming the bushes, but he made way for us when he spotted us. I offered him an appreciative smile as he raised his hand in a silent greeting, a straw of wheat between his teeth as he tipped his hat towards Doctor Jeong. The doctor bowed back to him politely before we made our way down the gravel path, headed towards the willow tree. The warmth today made me feel hot despite the thin summer dress I wore, its sleeves short with a sweetheart neckline. It was a sage green, a pretty contrast against my copper curls. Without needing to ask, Matilda has made a daisy crown to wrap around my bun. I felt pretty and safe covered in my favourite things, sitting underneath the willow tree as frogs ribbited down by the pond, bees buzzing by. The doctor got ready as he opened his satchel bag, taking his notebook and new pencil out. As we sat, I noticed our thighs brushing together, the doctor’s now musky cologne invading my senses. When he placed his notebook on his left thigh, twisting his upper body to face mine, the pages of it brushed against my own thigh too.

“In our last session, you spoke about visiting your father’s grave with your mother. You made him a daisy crown since he loved the flowers just as much as you do, and then, when you returned home, your once lover was waiting for you in the foyer.” Doctor Jeong’s tone was gentle but impersonal, he was a professional after all, “You stopped after you said you were fighting and it got…violent? You must elaborate on that, did nobody hear it? Did nobody help?”

I sighed, picking at the grass, “It didn’t get violent in the sense of a physical altercation, but our words were harsh and unforgiving. He called me many names that day, he broke my heart, Doctor Jeong. I know you are curious about what was said, and because it leads up to what happened between Karina and me, I shall tell you.”

The doctor was jotting down my words in his notebook, his hand flying over the page. His bottom lip was between his teeth as he pushed at his spectacles with his other hand. He hummed and briefly glanced at me when I remained quiet for too long. I had to brace myself, so, I took a deep breath and gazed at the doctor instead of at the house, finding my nerves calmer if I gazed at his beautiful face, and his chocolate brown eyes whenever he held eye contact.

“Matthew, the man I had once loved, was my fiancé. He had asked for my hand while my father was still alive, our love story goes way back. We’ve grown up together due to our father’s being friends, and chancefully had fallen in love too. He was always sweet and loving, he respected me, and always heard me out. I suppose that is what attracted me to him most, I could see a glimpse of how my father treated my mother in him. But we had our ups and downs too, he was way too jealous and hated it when I spoke to other men, meanwhile, I had no problem if he had female friends. After my father died…it was hard for me to come to terms with it, I was sad every day for a very long time. I didn’t want to see anyone but my mother, not even Matthew. He knew I needed time, but he was getting impatient, he was bringing up marriage more often than not, but I wasn’t ready yet. I had just lost my father and the thought of not walking down the aisle with him by my side just hurt too much.” I paused and licked my lips, pulling my knees up to my chest as I felt the doctor shift and lean even closer, “And then as my mother and I healed together, she found Mr Brooks. It took them a while to settle down, paperwork and whatnot got in the way as well as people talking nasty behind their backs, but when I found out Mr Brooks had a daughter too, I felt hopeful. I thought I would finally find a true friend, someone to share everything with. Karina was lovely at first, very kind and funny, I could easily consider her my sister even if we weren’t related by blood. But then, one evening we went out to a pub where she finally met Matthew, and things just…changed.”

Doctor Jeong hummed, still writing as I let my eyes take in his focused expression. His forehead was creased slightly as he chewed on his bottom lip, his neck flushed from the heat. I had also shifted more into his space subconsciously, and I had to refrain from tracing his brows before sinking my fingers into his smooth-looking hair, “You see, it wasn’t Matthew who had changed, but Karina’s attitude towards me. She became snappy and rude, she didn’t make it obvious, but I knew she was looking down on me. She barely talked to me now when my mother and her father weren’t around, but she somehow always found time to ask about Matthew. At first, I thought nothing much of it, I figured she might’ve not liked him too much and was looking out for me in an obscure way, but then I found their letters. Mr Allen was bringing in the post and I told him I would sort them out, so when I saw Matthew’s letter, of course I had assumed it was for me…except, it hadn’t been. It was addressed to Karina, and there were all sort of weird questions about me as if whatever Karina had said before had upset him.”

“Has Karina been sending him letters behind your back?” Doctor Jeong looked confused as he looked up at me, his round eyes narrowed and void of kindness. When the doctor was this serious, he looked almost frightening. But I knew he was kind and caring underneath that mask, so I didn’t care. I hummed and nodded, absentmindedly picking at the scabs that had formed over my bruised knuckles.

“Yes, and she was lying to him, saying very ugly things about me. Still to this day, I don’t understand why she did all of that. Leia says she’s blinded by jealousy and wants to be better than me, but unless Karina says it, I don’t want to believe it. Anyways, I didn’t confront Karina right away, I hurried over to Matthew’s house to talk to him.” I huffed sadly, looking at the doctor again, “He was just about to mount his horse and leave for the city, but when he saw me, he knew we had to talk. It turns out, Karina has been lying about me for months now, saying I was seeing other men behind his back and somehow even made up some evidence of it. She had sent him handkerchiefs that had been my father’s, claiming they were of those I was—sleeping with. She even told him I was badmouthing him and that I was only marrying him out of pity, and because my father had made me promise I would marry someone richer than my family. But—it was all lies! I loved Matthew, I always have! I wanted to marry him and have a nice household, but Karina took it all away from me. What he said to me…it had hurt a lot, and it still does, so I won’t repeat his words, but he broke off our engagement and told me to never appear in front of his eyes. I had loved him, Yunho…”

My throat clenched as I took a shuddering breath, eyes filled with tears. Yunho had stopped writing and looked at me with pain in his eyes, bottom lip between his teeth, “I’m sorry, you deserved better.”

I hummed with a sad chuckle and quickly wiped my eyes before the tears could fall. This was it, this is what Yunho had been desperately wanting to hear for a month now. I lowered my legs and looked at Yunho with a neutral expression, making his eyes widen minutely, “I know, but it’s okay. If God is watching like everyone claims him to be, Karina will be punished, and so will Matthew. I was a mess after that conversation with Matthew, and I cried all the way back home. My chest was clenching and my heart was thumping wildly, I thought that was what heartbreak felt like, and I still believe so. When I stumbled through our front door, Karina was just…there. Waiting for me in the foyer with an amused smirk. She didn’t even feign innocence as she asked what happened, she could clearly see Matthew’s crumbled letter in my hand. I won’t deny it, I said some very ugly things to her. I didn’t even let her speak as I exploded on her, I’m still surprised the house staff didn’t try to stop me. I have said this in my report too, but I struck first, I slapped her and pushed her back when she started laughing. She was only doing it to make me even angrier, and it was working.”

My muscles tensed as I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, keeping it in my lungs as Yunho’s jaw was clenched, his eyes focused on my face as I continued talking, “I needed space, so I backed away before I could do anything really hurtful. My head was thumping and my body was shaking, I felt like I was suffocating. Karina just continued laughing as I hurried to the stairs, wanting to lock myself in my room and cry myself to sleep. She was following after me, now cackling instead of laughing, and then she said something—something that I’ll never forget, ‘All that courting and playing around each other just to never even fuck him? Don’t worry, you’re not missing out on anything, sister, he’s not even good in bed.’ I saw red when I heard her say that, my thoughts were a mess and I didn’t even doubt the accuracy of her words. I just reacted, I know I slapped her again as I stopped on the stairs, but I couldn’t say anything as I was close to sobbing, so I just ran up the rest of the stairs, but she was still following after me. She was saying something, and I was screaming at her to shut up, but she wouldn’t. And I—I just really wanted her to shut up, to not look at me with those eyes and I just—I don’t know, Doctor, I don’t know. My whole body was shaking and I couldn’t see clearly, my head was aching and I couldn’t even hear anymore, I just—I just remember suddenly coming to myself again when there was a shrill screech. And then I remember Matilda looking at me with terror in her eyes as she called for Jesper and Mr Allen to come help, to call for a doctor.”

“In your report, you said—”

“I know what I said, Yunho, I said I turned around and gave her a backhanded slap, yanked on her hair and bashed her head against the wall before pushing her down the stairs.” Yunho’s eyes were shaking as our faces were close, “But I don’t remember doing any of those, the lawyer told me to say that to protect myself from a serious accusation. Matilda lied for me, and so did Mr Allen. In the end, Mr Brooks paid the judge and I was simply classified as insane, the case was swept under the rug and I’ve been forced to live like this ever since.”

“I knew there was something wrong with that report,” Yunho muttered under his breath, “But why did you lie?”

“I was young and scared,” I sighed, my eyes searching Yunho’s face for any judgment, but it wasn’t there, “I thought they would lock me up if I didn’t make up a story. But in the end, I was locked up in my own house for six years, a prison still, just different. I fainted in the court too, I don’t remember much from there either.”

Yunho looked troubled as his eyebrows were deeply furrowed, his bottom lip thoroughly chewed on, and his spectacles pushed up on his nose. With his free hand, he reached forward, but stopped just before his fingertips could touch my hand and instead balled it up into a fist and lowered it back into his lap. His jaw clenched as he gulped, shaking his head as he looked down at his notebook.

“I have a scar on my abdomen,” I whispered, hand pressing against my covered stomach, “from having fallen over and cutting myself, do you believe me, Doctor?”

When Yunho’s jaw just clenched and he didn’t look at me, I gulped nervously and reached towards my sleeves to pull them off, to let the dress pool at my waist, but one fleeting glance at me had Yunho reaching forward with a panic-ridden face, his eyes widening, “Stop, what are you doing? I believe you, Y/N, I do.”

His hands were big and warm, wrapped completely around mine as the sleeve of my dress swiftly slipped off my left shoulder. His thumb rubbed my bruised knuckles, and despite the sting, I welcomed the affectionate gesture as it covered my arms in goosebumps. I released a long breath, my eyes boring into Yunho’s. His eyes were easy to read, he looked conflicted and confused. I had no idea if he believed me, but I wanted him to. Hurting Karina was wrong, but she deserved it, and I was glad I managed to make her hurt at least once compared to how many times she had hurt me. But I remained silent as Yunho leaned even closer, our faces a breath away from each other. He gulped, loudly, then frowned. As I opened my mouth, he looked alarmed and scrambled backwards, letting my hands drop into my lap as he gasped, grabbing for his things frantically. I didn’t understand what was happening, but when I tried to help, he just pushed my hand away. My heart hammered in my chest nervously as sweat rolled down my temples, and I stood so quickly I got whiplash. Doctor Jeong was just about to take off towards the house when a desperate question left my lips.

“Will you save me, Doctor Jeong?” My voice was trembling just as much as Yunho’s hands, “Will you become my caretaker and take me away with you, will you?”

My questions went unanswered as Yunho ran off, not even bothering to go inside the house as he followed the cobbled path to the front of the house. The engine of his motorcar was loud as I slumped back against the tree with a dizzy head.

The committee was more eager than I had thought at first to wrap this whole thing up. Just two days after my last encounter with the doctor, a letter came at an early morning hour that the verdict would be given today. I was nervous, but I braced myself for the worst possible ending, which would be me being sent back to the asylum. I doubted I would survive that once again, so I could only hope the doctor had taken pity on me and would be generous in his report. My mother had been buzzing around the house all morning, making sure everything was perfect for the arrival of the committee. Cookies had been baked, fresh tea was brewed, the ground floor aired out with every corner dusted off, and the tea room was decorated with vases of freshly picked flowers. The grand doors were opened, creating a serene surrounding as I sat on the sofa by myself. Nobody was inside the room except for me, something which was rare. I gaze forward, at the visage, trying to commit it to memory. I wondered if I would get to see it tomorrow too.

Matilda had dressed me in a dainty white dress to feign innocence, with my hair pulled in a low bun, and daisies hanging out of it. It felt as if the ghost of my father was here to cheer me on, to offer me some braveness before everything would unfold. And it would, way too soon. There were loud knocks against the front door before it was opened, and six people piled inside our foyer. My mother and Karina quickly walked inside the room with my mother sitting next to me, meanwhile, Karina took her spot in her favourite armchair. The image was eerily similar to the first day the doctor had arrived, it made my heart race. The rest of my future was in the hands of another man, and I couldn’t do anything about it. I knew what I had done to Karina was wrong, but a small part of me knew that she had deserved it. My muscles tensed when Mr Brooks’ voice carried inside the tea room as he led the committee and Doctor Jeong inside. My jaw clenched and my hands balled into fists as they each walked in, eyes on me as I remained unmoving.

The committee consisted of the town mayor, the judge who had handled my case, the town’s richest married couple, and Father Louis, the head of our church. My stomach churned as the familiar faces sat down surrounding me, leaving space for Doctor Jeong at the front. Mr Brook sat next to my mother and held her hand, making my mother sigh loudly. I didn’t want to look at anyone, I was afraid to see what they hid in their eyes. The doctor seemed tense as he rolled his shoulders a few times, then cleared his throat and accepted the tea from Mrs Humphrey, who had insisted on staying in the room, in the back where she didn’t bother anyone. I couldn’t focus on anyone else but the doctor as he finally seemed like he was ready to speak up. He faced the room and his eyes took in everyone, staying on me for a second too long. I could see Karina sneer from my peripheral vision, but I didn’t care. I was just as curious to hear what Doctor Jeong had to say as the committee.

“Dear committee, Mr and Miss Brooks, Mrs and Miss Harold, and of course, Mrs Humphrey,” Doctor Jeong bowed his head lightly, “Thank you for coming, and I’d like to thank the committee for entrusting me with this intricate and peculiar case. I must say before I begin, that I have encountered cases like Miss Harold’s before, but neither one has been as complex as hers. I trust my personal judgement and everything I have learned up until this point, that my verdict is the right choice, and that if the committee sees it fit as well, it shall proceed with Miss Harold’s sentence accordingly.”

Doctor Jeong’s fingers were wrung together in front of him, his dark blue suit was perfect. He looked dashingly handsome with his wavy hair falling all over his forehead and into his eyes, his spectacles perched into the pocket of his vest. His warm eyes found mine for a second before he looked around the room again, nodding to himself. He took a deep breath and continued his speech, starting to pace around the front of the room. Him standing in front of the garden and the path that led to the willow tree was dreamy, “We all know that Miss Harold had lost her father when she was young, which would be hard news to swallow for a person at any age. I assume that his early death left Miss Harold traumatised in a way that could go unnoticed unless looked upon by a professional, which didn’t happen. Her stress and repressed pain had accumulated, waiting for a small spark to ignite the explosion, which did happen as we all know it. I spent a month daily by Miss Harold’s side, listening to stories of her childhood, and her adulthood, all leading up to the moment we’ve all been curious about. During my time studying her, I’ve come to observe that she is a very kind soul, attentive, and a generous person. She is soft-spoken and very sensitive to everything that happens around her, it is rather hard for me to imagine she could even as much as hurt a fly.”

I gulped, feeling my heart hammer in my chest as Yunho spoke with much conviction, his eyebrows furrowed as he stopped moving around, his eyes settling on Father Louis, “Her mental state, however, fluctuates a lot based on her surroundings, she easily reacts to the change of weather and the change of mood of a person. People like Miss Harold aren’t only in touch with their peers, but with nature as well, as insane as that might sound, it’s a rather special attribute to have. She’s had bad days during our sessions, and I had the chance to further observe the cause of this. As a psychiatrist, I do not enjoy lightly throwing out diagnoses, but I have to ensure the health of my patients. Miss Harold suffers from manic episodes that get triggered by certain words, environmental changes, and people. In Miss Harold’s stories, I have found one person who seemed to be always around her when these episodes happened, making me confident in my theory that she is Miss Harold’s trigger.”

The people in the room gasped as they looked around. My heart was hammering, I could feel my pulse in my throat, but I couldn’t help but let out an amused huff. Karina’s eyes were wide and her knuckles white as she gripped the armrest of the armchair, fear painting her face. It felt satisfying looking at her, and if I hadn’t known the doctor better, I would’ve missed the satisfied smirk on his lips there for a millisecond, “If this wasn’t about the health of Miss Harold, I wouldn’t be throwing out names so unabashedly, but this is to ensure her safety and health. Miss Brooks seems to like to pick on Miss Harold whenever she gets the chance, and she likes provoking her sister. Before anyone could deny my claim, I was witness to such a thing happening, Miss Brooks herself has said some very rude things about Miss Harold that no lady should utter, less about their sister, even if not related by blood. That being said, I cannot throw all the blame on Miss Brooks since Miss Harold is traumatised and doesn’t know how to handle it, or how to control her outbursts.”

Then, as if there was nobody else in the room with us, Doctor Jeong’s eyes found mine, his expression softening. Karina had started crying next to me, but I couldn’t care less as my mother was glaring at her, the committee didn’t look very pleased either.

“What she said in her report…” Doctor Jeong loosened his necktie a little, licking his lips, “Turns out to be true. In a fit of rage, she disassociated and acted upon instinct. I do not know if she had told anyone, but Miss Brooks had come between Miss Harold and her fiancé, breaking off their marriage. As someone who had been in love once, much like all of you in this room, I’d like to assume, we all know what it means to experience our first heartbreak. For someone who had grown up with this boy, loved him with their whole heart, and was supposed to grow old with them, to hear their engagement was broken off based on some lies made up by Miss Brooks not too soon after Miss Harold’s has lost her father must’ve been devastating. Thus, the trauma she had experienced before due to her father’s untimely death combined with another tragedy has made Miss Harold’s mind break, lose its bearings, making her unable to tell right from wrong.”

I couldn’t breathe as my eyes bore into Yunho’s, filling with tears. I had expected him to go against me for having lied in my report, or to try and go around the topic without bringing it up much, but no, he was actively lying for me and keeping up the image that I had a lapse of judgement all this time. My mother’s hand found mine as she squeezed it reassuringly, tears streaming down her cheeks. I glanced at her fleetingly, my body buzzing with life as my hands trembled. I wanted to see the faces of the committee members, but Yunho was all I could look at. There was a heavy sigh in the room, it could’ve come from Mr Brooks or someone else, I couldn’t tell.

“I’m very close to giving my verdict, so allow me to say this before that,” Yunho smiled softly, looking towards the committee with a gentle look on his face, but with a steely look in his eyes, “Miss Harold’s is a human like all of us in this room, and she is allowed to make mistakes. She’s been punished for her mistakes, probably unfairly, and we mustn’t make the same mistake again. I have concluded, that Miss Harold needs an environmental change for her to fully heal. This house no longer feels homey to her, she feels caged in and watched all the time, plus now you all know that Miss Brooks won’t leave her alone either. As a verdict, I have concluded that if the committee and her mother agree, Miss Harold could be assigned a new caretaker. And…before you make suggestions as to who could fit this role best, I would like you all to consider me as her new caretaker for the next year. I am a doctor, I know what to do and how to act in case she is having another episode. I will be leaving the country in a month to return to France, where my foster father has requested my presence. The environmental change would benefit Miss Harold greatly, that is, if you trust me, of course.”

I felt close to fainting by the time Yunho had stopped talking. Him, Doctor Jeong Yunho, my new caretaker? Could that be possible? Would the committee even let it happen? I had no idea, but I wanted to fall in his arms and sob as I thanked him for his effort, for listening to me, for trying to save me from this place. The committee erupted in whispered mutters amongst themselves, but Father Louis seemed more than pleased with Yunho. His brows were sweaty as he dabbed at them with the back of his wrist, his arms covered with the sleeves despite the heat. My mother wasn’t moving next to me, and Mr Brooks had turned his body away from Karina, who was trying to catch her father’s gaze insistently. Then, there was a tsk as the judge rose to his feet, all eyes falling on him.

“Thank you. Doctor Jeong, for your in-depth analysis and for the tabs and reports you’ve been keeping on Miss Harold this month, we appreciate it.” He rubbed at his chin, his hair already silver from age, “We have selected you, Doctor, to treat this delicate case because we have heard of your expertise. You have never once failed to treat your patients accordingly, and I find no reason to doubt your verdict, however, wouldn’t it be risky to take Miss Harold away from here? Couldn’t that trigger her madness even more? And if Mrs Harold won’t agree, she cannot go. Either way, we cannot let her go unless you promise to report back to us monthly, Doctor Jeong, and once the one year is up, you must return her home. She shall be reevaluated, then her fate will be decided for the future.”

When Yunho and my eyes met again, I knew my fate had been sealed. France, a new beginning by his side, sounded like a far-fetched dream that was now within my reach.

Yunho was a professional, except when it came to her. The lines had blurred long ago, he couldn’t tell who was the doctor and who was the patient when it came to her. All Yunho knew was that he could never let her go, not when she clung to him as if her life depended on him. Her lips tasted like honey and her moans were the prettiest music he had ever had the chance to hear, her skin soft and warm and her body so pliant underneath his. All it took was one touch from her for his whole being to crumble, he felt drunk on her, insatiable. Yunho knew he couldn’t let her return home, not now that he’d found Mingi too, not when the three of them were living in a tucked away village in a homey cottage, away from prying eyes. Yunho finally had what he’d been yearning for his whole life. His family was back, right within his reach, and even when he missed his home, he’d gaze upon Mingi and her, and realise that his home was here with them. And she was sweet like nectar, Yunho’s guilty pleasure that he just couldn’t get rid of—didn’t want to get rid of. He was a bad man for preying upon the innocent and unassuming ones, but may God forgive him for his sins, he was just a man after all. He knew he was bound to become insane like his patients one day, but Yunho was already a madman for her, and he didn’t care. Profession be damned, only the four walls of their cottage would truly know the truth, much like her amnesiac brain that had no desire to return to a land and home that’s treated her so horribly once. Here, Yunho was a complete man and he had wowed to protect what was his…no matter what it took. Mingi and her were staying there with him, forever.

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you-know-honey · 2 months ago

Text

Hanging in Your Hands

Viktor x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4k

←←←1/2

Viktor finds in you a love that subtly transforms him: without realizing it, he begins to take better care of himself, rest better and relieve his pain, all thanks to the peace you bring him. Finding a way to show you what he could never do with words.

N/A: English is not my native language, feel free to correct me in the comments and I will update it. Remember to share and comment if you liked it. Endnotes.

“Home sweet home…” you hum as Viktor opens the door, letting you in first like a true gentleman. You’re the first to leave your coat on the coat rack and throw your shoes somewhere in the room, walking now much more comfortably towards the kitchen.

Viktor’s home isn’t very big, but it had changed a lot since the first time you went there. Before, everything looked like a scene from the most godforsaken place, with almost no furniture and white morgue lighting. It was hard to convince him that to improve his health he also need to improve his environment. The living room was the largest room, with a functional fireplace, a second-hand coffee table and a sofa so soft it could be a piece stolen from heaven. The kitchen was the smallest, there was no table or chairs, instead there was a breakfast bar and some swivel chairs that you had taken from the academy and that Viktor had fixed. The bathroom started the hallway, followed by his office and finally his room. You had made sure that every room reflected something positive, watering plants or doing crafts like a comfort fairy. Viktor appreciated it, he had told you so many times, he didn't mind that you filled his house with your not so practical decorations, they were your personal brand and he liked it, besides spending all that time decorating, painting and remodeling gave him more reasons to love you, to get to know you perfectly and be fascinated by what he found in your being. Without you he wouldn't have managed to make his house feel and look like a real home in which to rest.

Viktor removes his jacket with precise movements. His long, deft fingers slide the dark fabric over his shoulders, revealing the impeccable shirt that sits tight against his slim figure. He folds the jacket carefully, as if he's in no hurry, and lays it over the back of the sofa. His hands move up to the knot of his tie. His fingers, always so precise, pull at the knot with ease, undoing the pressure around his neck. The gesture, so mundane to him, has a strange effect on you, an electric current running through your body. As if that weren't enough, the top button of his shirt unbuttons under his touch, revealing just a flash of skin on his pale neck. His breathing seems to relax instantly, as if the small adjustment brings him some comfort.

Viktor exhales softly, running a hand through his messy hair, unaware that this distracted gesture, combined with the shadow of exhaustion on his face, makes him look almost unattainable, like a work of art that doesn’t realize its own beauty. You feel trapped in a magnetic web that he doesn’t even know he possesses.

“That was sexy,” you mutter to yourself as you rummage through some food in the fridge.

“Excuse me?” His low voice echoes behind you, you have no idea how he moved so fast, his tone is incredulous, and his eyebrows arch slightly.

You shrug, trying to look casual as you turn to look at him, even though you know your face is probably burning. “What I said. You’re sexy. Especially when you do that without realizing it.”

His brain shuts down for a moment, processing the bold comment. “Don’t joke with me…” he finally says, leaning his cane against the fridge and trapping you in a bear hug, your hands quickly returning his, feeling the medical corset under his shirt.

“I’m not joking,” you insist, your words crashing against his bare torso, causing him to shiver slightly, which only makes his arms draw you closer to his body. “Is it so hard to believe?” you can hear his heartbeat quicken.

“Stop it…” he replies with his lips on your head.

“Too shy to receive compliments?” in his defense you are being a little more daring than usual.

His arms pull you closer to his body as if that were possible, it is clear that he wants you to stop talking, he laughs when he feels you squirm in his arms as if you are complaining.

“Y/N…” he tells you with that tone that you know is a warning, although it is not serious, you know he is having fun.

You sigh and he loosens his hug a little, enough so that you can rest your chin on his chest.

“Shall we make dinner together?” you ask, Viktor leaned in slightly, his eyes half-lidded in a warm gesture, and brushed the tip of his nose against Y/N’s in a gentle movement, barely a whisper of contact. It was an intimate exchange, full of affection and closeness, that spoke louder than any words. It was as if they shared a secret, a moment just for them, full of warmth and sweetness.

“Sure.”

Making dinner together is a very big word for what really happens in that kitchen, you prepare everything and force him to sit behind the breakfast bar to prove that everything is on point once you start the dinner. Viktor is not afraid to admit that he does not know how to cook anything other than toast and sandwiches. The kitchen is his war zone and the oven is the enemy he has yet to overcome, luckily he has you and by the time the timer in the shape of a pigeon reaches zero his stomach growls with eagerness.

“Taran!” you proudly take the lasagna out of the oven, the warm aroma fills the whole house and both of your stomachs growl desperate for food. “How is it?” you look at him expectantly.

Viktor runs his face over the steaming mold, it looks good and smells good “It’s perfect…” although he could perfectly refer to you instead of the lasagna.

“Go to the sofa, I’ll bring the dishes in a second.” still with your gloves on you push yourself over the breakfast bar to give him a chaste kiss on the lips. Cooking always puts you in a good mood, but seeing that he likes what you cook is a reward on another level.

As you serve the plates and accompany it with something to drink, you watch Viktor’s silhouette walk towards the sofa, he limps a little but that gives him a certain charm because he no longer does it in pain, the way he sits, the way he sighs as he leans his back against the back of the sofa, the way he tilts his head to look at the fire. Everything about him seems like a work of art to you, from the veins that run through his pale, thin hands, his moles that you’re sure must be a constellation in the sky, his eyes that remind you of fresh honey in a virgin forest, his laugh, secret but beautiful like the whistling of rivers in the distance. You love him like you have no idea. Thinking about him revives your spirit, releases unbridled currents of adrenaline that die for him, to reach him, to be in his arms and stay there forever.

“Enjoy” he says when he leaves the dinner on the coffee table, letting you fall on the sofa. Using a blanket to cover you both from the cold.

“Enjoy” he answers, using his arm to pull your figure closer to him and rests his head on yours.

You both eat in silence, not because you have nothing to talk about, just that your stomachs really need that lasagna, you are focused on Viktor’s plate, but this time it doesn’t seem like your tactics are needed to get him to finish eating, he really razes the plate with emotion, something that makes you feel proud. With a full stomach it’s easier to think of something to talk about.

“How about a plant?” You ask, resting your head on his chest, there’s something about his heartbeat that works better to relax you than the ocean sound records on the record players next to the window.

“A plant? Where?” he asks with a playful tone “There are already many at home.” he mentioned, pointing with his gaze to the shelf above the fireplace, full of cacti of different sizes.

“For the lab…something small with green leaves maybe with flowers...” He can hear the small tone of excitement in your voice.

Viktor looked at you curiously. “What do you want it for?”

“For you. The doctors say plants help reduce stress.”

He smiled, a wonderful expression on his face. “Do you think a plant can handle that place?”

“I have faith in it. Just like in you.”

He takes a few seconds to look at you, there is tenderness in his gaze. He is not good with plants, in fact he agreed to have cacti only because they were easy to take care of since basically nothing happened if he forgot about it for a few days, a plant like the one you wanted requires more care but… he is not willing to say no to you, if you want it that way that will be and he will take care of that plant better than anyone else.

“A plant it is then.” He sighs. His figure moves beside you, before you know it he’s picking up the plates.

“Leave the plates, I’ll wash them,” you say, quickly getting up from the couch as Viktor begins to stack the cups and plates on the coffee table.

“No need. I’ll do it,” he replies calmly, already focused on the task. His hands move with the same precision he uses in the lab, carefully stacking each plate to keep them from falling.

“Viktor, I’m your guest. You can’t wash the dishes,” you insist, stepping forward to take the plates from his hands.

He raises an eyebrow, his expression reflecting a mix of amusement and stubbornness. “Guest? You’ve been here so many times that I could claim my bedroom. There’s no point in arguing this.” You reach for the last plate, but Viktor pushes it away with a swift movement. “It’s just a small task. It’s nothing complicated.”

“But—”

“There are no ‘buts’.” He gives you a look, serious but not harsh. It’s more like a silent declaration of victory. “I’ll take care of it.”

Resigned, you sigh and cross your arms, watching him from the couch as he stacks the plates like a jenga and heads toward the kitchen. However, as he stands up with the stack of plates in his hands, he suddenly stops halfway.

For a moment, you don’t understand what’s going on. His back is slightly bent, his posture rigid. Then, he turns his face slightly toward you, his lips pressed into a tight line.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, moving closer with concern.

“A small… inconvenience,” he says in a tone that tries to sound calm, although you notice the stiffness in his voice.

You move closer and see the reason: one of the glasses is dangerously tilted, about to fall. His hands are too busy holding the others and holding onto the cane; moving just a millimeter could lead to disaster.

“Let me help you,” you offer with a smile you can’t help.

“No. It’s under control,” Viktor insists, although his tone lacks the firmness it had before.

“Sure? Because you look like you’re a second away from creating an experiment on the fragility of ceramics.”

His lips curve into a slight smile, but his attention remains fixed on the plates. With a quick but gentle movement, you slide your hands over to catch the wayward glass before it falls.

Viktor shoots you a look, his eyes shining with a mix of gratitude and resignation. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Now, can you admit that you need help from time to time?”

He sighs, shaking his head as he continues on his way to the kitchen. “No. But I’ll let you believe it, this time.”

You roll your eyes in response.

“How about I wash them and you dry them?” he offers.

“Fine.”

You watch him sitting at the breakfast bar watching him thoroughly wash each plate, glass, and cutlery, drying his hands on a kitchen towel.

“All yours,” he says as he leaves the kitchen, which is too small for the two of them. “I’m going to go take a shower.”

“Do you want some company?” His figure tenses up like a cat, stopping only to turn around slightly to find a mischievous smile on your face.

“Nice try.” A stifled laugh escapes his lips before he disappears down the hall and it’s not long before you hear the sound of running water.

The dim light of the bathroom bathed the tense lines of Viktor's figure, reflecting his thinness and the sharp features that marked his skin. Viktor took off his shirt with slow, almost mechanical movements. He had always avoided looking at his nakedness in the mirror, the reflection of a weak man made him sick, but this time the mirror gave him a different image. When he took off his shirt he discovered that on his torso his ribs were barely noticeable, his abdomen was no longer sunken and even a tiny roll of fat had formed in the lower part. He was still thin, but when he touched him he felt muscles and not just his bones, his pale skin had taken on more softness and color. The wounds left by his corset had stopped being reddened furrows and were now barely noticeable.

He caressed his neck, slightly hunched, free of tension. The scars on his side, reminders of medical procedures, were no longer like cracks, but just soft marks.

As he unbuttoned his pants, he braced himself with one hand on the wall for balance. His outer brace trembled slightly. With a methodical movement, he removed the metal piece, carefully setting it aside, as if it were an extension of himself that he could not despise.

He felt like a different person, naked in front of the mirror, admiring a more vivid reflection of himself, his hands running over his muscles that were once tired and sore, now looking strong and energetic. He smiled a little, hesitantly. For the first time, he liked what he saw in the mirror and he knew who he had to thank for that.

Steam began to fill the room as he adjusted the water to hot for the comfort of his leg. Once naked, Viktor stood still for a moment, letting the moisture envelop his skin. His body, although marked by a certain fragility, radiated an unbreakable strength, feeling each scar with something other than disgust for the first time in a long time. His eyes closed, enjoying that shower like no other.

After finishing putting away the dishes, you peeked into the hallway. You found him sitting on the bed, wearing baggy pajama pants and his shirt covering his naked torso, his head in his hands and his eyes fixed on his leg. His posture was rigid, filled with a tension that you could almost feel in the air.

You didn't say anything at first, because you knew that what he needed wasn't words, but company. You approached silently, crossing the hallway and sat down next to him, placing a hand on his good knee.

"Does it hurt?" you finally asked, your voice barely a whisper.

Viktor nodded, not raising his head. "A little. There are times when... it feels like it's never going to go away." He internally cursed himself, the whole day had passed without problems, with barely any discomfort, he didn't understand why the pain decided to attack him right now, it was as if it was mocking him.

Your chest tightened at his vulnerability. You knew how much he hated showing weakness, even with you.

"Let me help…"

He stared at you for a moment, as if considering your words. He finally nodded with a sigh. You knelt in front of him, placing his leg over your lap, pushing his pajama bottoms up to his thigh, your cold fingers giving him goosebumps where you touched them. The internal mechanism of the device on his leg was simpler but no less aggressive, as you removed the straps you could hear small gasps coming from Viktor’s mouth, his hand crumpling the sheets beside him, his skin reddening as the pressure of the device disappeared. Once the device was off you followed the usual nightly ritual, sliding your hands up his leg, applying pressure to the right spot and massaging the tense muscles in his leg and foot, you were precise, almost surgical, as you moved your hands up his leg with extreme gentleness. At first his muscles were tense but slowly you felt them relax under your touch. Finally, the tense grimace changed to a placid, lazy expression of relief as the pain faded.

"Better…" he murmured after a while. His voice sounded calmer.

“See? I’m good at this.” you said as you stood up to sit beside him on his bed.

He laughed softly, his low, warm laugh filling the space. “Maybe I should hire you as my personal physical therapist.”

“You couldn’t pay me enough.” you teased, giving him a soft poke on his nose. “But lucky for you, I do this because I care about you.” Your hands slid down his back, taking the shirt with you, exposing his medical corset. It took you a little more technique to remove it, a couple of twists here and the movement of the levers on his shoulder blades were enough to make the heavy structure give way, pulling it over his head and leaving it on the floor under the nightstand. Your hands caressed his bare back, his skin pale as sweet milk and warm as the first rays of the sun in the day.

He took your hand then, bringing it to his lips to place a soft kiss on your fingers and murmur against them, “How lucky I am…”

“You have no idea…” you said, sliding your hand up his arm to his cheek. He looked totally sleepy but willing to simply adjust his posture and have your lips meet his in a slow, delicate brush, more sensation than intention. His messy hair falling over his forehead, tickling the bridge of your nose.

Without saying anything, his fingers slowly slide up your cheek, warm and a little clumsy, as if even in his sleepy state he wanted to make sure he touched you carefully. His thumb traces a small circle against your skin, and his lips, barely curved in a lazy smile, murmur your name, so low it almost seems like a sigh.

You lean into him, unable to resist the closeness he himself seeks. Viktor, so practical and rational during the day, now seems completely given over to the moment. The whole world had been reduced to that single point of contact.

There is no rush in the kiss, only a sweetness heavy with tiredness, as if sleep were pulling at him but he couldn’t help but stay with you a little longer. His lips are warm, soft, and his breathing, calm but irregular, mixes with yours.

When the kiss breaks you don’t know how, but you’ve ended up lying on the bed, his lips barely separating from yours, staying so close that you can feel the heat of his breath against your skin. His eyes half-closed, they look at you with a softness that melts any thought.

“I have a gift for you…” his voice is barely a whisper against your lips “Can you bring my bag please?” he asked, dragging one of your locks of hair behind your ear. You close your eyes, you're so comfortable that you don't want to separate from him. "Honey... please..." his words completely disarm you, the air leaves your lungs and you have to drag him back inside, it's the first time he calls you that...

You didn't expect it, you don't know what to do or say next. "I... amhmm... I... will go get your bag..." you murmur unsurely as you basically flee the room with your heart racing. You may have heard Viktor's giggle behind you but maybe it was just your nerves playing a bad joke on you.

When you returned with the bag to the room Viktor has lifted his torso from the bed and holds a small package wrapped excellently in ornate paper in his hands. You crawl to his side on the bed, cautiously dragging his bag, was sending you for it, a trick?

The air in the room is charged with a quiet expectation as Viktor leans forward slightly, holding a box wrapped in dark, elegant paper. His fingers, always careful, seem a little tenser than usual, as if the act of handing you the gift is more intimidating than he imagined.

“This is for you,” he says, his voice low but firm, though you notice the slight tremor in his words. He hands it to you, but doesn’t look directly at you; his eyes fixate on some indefinite spot, as if he’s not entirely sure how you’ll react.

You take the box, feeling the unexpected weight in your hands. You watch him, searching for some clue in his expression, but Viktor just crosses his arms, adopting a posture that could be interpreted as casual, though his slightly stiff shoulders give it away.

“Open it,” he murmurs, and his eyes finally meet yours, shining with a mix of nervousness and something deeper, something you can only describe as affection.

As you open the paper, you discover a retro-designed camera, impeccable, with a simple elegance that suits him perfectly. You blink, surprised, as he leans over to turn it on. Before you can ask, his hand rummages through his bag, showing you the small Hextech gem and to your utter astonishment he places it inside the camera mechanism. The room lights up for a moment before Viktor presses a button and the magic begins.

At first, music is the first thing you can hear, then like real magic you see a series of hologram images all around the room: you and him together at different moments, some captured in secret, others you remember clearly. Laughter, glances, small everyday gestures. Then, the photos change to your favorite things: books, landscapes, objects you love, letters you’ve never read written in his own handwriting, every detail carefully collected.

And then, his voice.

“My name is Viktor and…” he begins, his tone deep but soft, with that meticulous cadence that characterizes him. “This is for my dear Y/N. A record of shared moments, of laughter, of everything you represent to me, of everything she is and everything she have allowed me to be.”

Your eyes glaze over as the images continue: your first photo together, a romantic poem, even the portrait of you both that an artist had made on your first date after leaving the hospital, your favorite flowers, things only someone in love would choose.

“It’s an archive of memories,” his voice continues, “but also a reminder to me. That no matter how chaotic the world is, there’s always beauty in the small moments. And in all of these moments, there’s her.”

When the voice ends, the silence that remains is overwhelming, laden with emotions you can’t put into words. You look up at Viktor, who now seems unable to meet your gaze, his cheeks totally red.

“I wasn’t sure if it would be too much.." he admits, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “But I thought… maybe you’d like it. You’ve done so much for me…”

You lean into him, setting the camera aside, and wrap your hands around his neck. “Too much?” Viktor, this is perfect...”

His lips curve into a small but genuine smile, and even though he tries to hide it, you can see the relief and joy in his eyes. This gesture, so meticulous and full of love, is irrefutable proof of how much you mean to him.

The weight of what you just saw is still present in your chest, warm and overwhelming. The camera is off to the side, forgotten for the moment, because now all your attention is on him. Viktor is still in front of you, clearly nervous but trying to keep his composure, as if you don’t know how to handle your emotions at this moment.

“What’s wrong?” he asks quietly, with that analytical look that never seems to completely fade. But there’s something else in his eyes now: a mix of vulnerability and hope, as if he’s not sure if his gift had had the impact he expected.

You don’t need words to answer him.

You move toward him in one motion, your hands gripping the sides of his face before he can react. His skin is warm beneath your fingers, and for an instant, you can feel his breathing hitch, caught between wonder and anticipation.

“You’re amazing,” you murmur against his lips, and before he can process it, you kiss him.

The kiss is urgent, charged with everything you feel and everything you can’t put into words. It’s like you want to tear down any remaining doubts he might have about how much you love him. Your lips move with a desperate hunger, as if you’re seeking to etch into him every emotion he’s provoked in you.

It takes Viktor a second to react, but when he does, he kisses you back with equal intensity. His hands, ever careful, grip your waist, pulling you closer to him as if he needs to have you closer. There’s no longer any shyness in his movements, only the restrained passion of someone who’s been waiting for this moment without realizing it.

His breathing is fast, ragged, and you can feel his lips tremble slightly against yours, not out of insecurity, but from the torrent of emotions that overwhelms him. One of his arms wraps around you, while his other hand moves up to tangle in your hair, holding you with a firmness you’ve never felt from him before.

When you finally part, you’re both breathless. His eyes, normally calm and focused, now shine with a mix of wonder and devotion. His lips are red, and a smile, small but sincere, forms on his face.

“I wasn’t expecting that,” he says, his voice huskier than usual.

“Did it bother you?” you ask, still panting, your hands still on his face.

“Disturb me?..” Viktor lets out a soft laugh and shakes his head, his forehead touching yours. “I couldn’t. But… I might need another demonstration to be completely sure.”

His playful tone, combined with the way he looks at you, makes your heart race again. “Cheeky…” Without saying a word, your eyes drift to the camera still resting to the side. You take the camara with firm but hurried hands, turning it on as he looks at you with a mix of curiosity and confusion.

“What are you doing?” he asks softly, tilting his head.

“I want this saved too,” you reply with a mischievous smile, holding the camera in the air, above the both of you.

Before Viktor can react or say anything else, you lean towards him again on the bed, capturing his lips in a kiss filled with all the love you feel. This time, the kiss is more confident, more determined, as if you both know exactly what you mean to each other.

With the camera in one hand, you press the button, the click barely perceptible between the racing beat of your heart and the soft whisper of his breath against your lips.

When the kiss ends, you both stand there, foreheads together, sharing a soft laugh, as if the simple act of capturing that moment makes it even more special.

The photo joins the rest floating around the room, and you see the image: the two of you locked in a kiss, your hand holding the camera, his hair a little messy, and his face slightly tilted toward you, as if his entire world is contained in that instant.

“Perfect,” you say quietly, stroking your thumb along the edge of the camera before turning back to him.

Viktor looks at the photo, and though he doesn’t say anything, the soft smile on his face says it all. You grab the camera and add the image to the video, where that photo now sits as part of the collection. One more memory that encapsulates not only who you are, but what you mean to each other.

He looks at you once more, his golden eyes shining with something you could swear is pride. “I think this is my favorite memory so far,” he murmurs, taking your hand delicately, as if afraid the moment might fade away.

And in that instant, you know that no matter how much time passes, that photo—and this kiss—will always be unforgettable.

N/A: I'm sorry for the delay, my dog died and I didn't have the strength to do anything other than be in bed. I really hope you like it and it was what you expected.

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yanderedrabbles · 3 months ago

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✨Kicking my feet and twirling my hair thinking about what cozy basement set up boyfriend would have for me!✨

What are your OCs homes like anyway? Do they like certain decor? Does it smell a particular way? Trinkets lying around?

Yandere boys and their homes

Yandere! Cowboy keeps his boots by the door and his old ropes stacked in the entryway. Definitely a whitewashed farmhouse with an old wraparound porch. There's an old deer skull above the fireplace and a couple of hunting rifles on the wall. He likes the view and most mornings he'll drink his coffee with his elbows resting on the porch railing. He likes it when you pick wild flowers and leave them in vases around the house, but he'll never actually tell you that.

Yandere! Soldier's current apartment is pretty old, probably built back in the Soviet era. He doesn't really keep stuff around - he's always moving and being deployed so he doesn't see the point in keeping trinkets. If it wasn't for you, he'd be perfectly fine sleeping in the barracks. Function over everything.

Yandere! Boyfriend's place is honestly pretty cozy. He keeps plenty of throw pillows and afghan blankets. Lots of wooden furniture - most of it he made himself. It's a pretty manly place, but without being overwhelming. Usually smells like vanilla and fresh baked bread. His basement is totally remodelled, with genuine hardwood floors and fairy lights strung across the beams. It's the perfect place to curl up and watch a horror movie, if you ignore the heavy duty locks on the door.

Yandere! State Trooper is pretty young so his apartment is a bit of a mess. He has police gear dumped all over the place. Mostly Ikea style furniture, modern if a bit bland. The only thing he really added was a hook on his headboard to loop your handcuffs through - he can't have you struggling too much and disturbing the neighbours, now can he?

Yandere! Cop for sure has a bachelor apartment with just a bedroom and kitchen. Very neat and clean but pretty boring. It's one of those newly built places with lots of marble and millennial grey. Besides, he's way more interested in buying you whatever you want for your place. His single piece of decor is a scented candle you gave him. He sometimes lights it after a really long day.

Yandere! Gangster has a shitty New York apartment for sure, exposed brick and one of those noisy old fashioned radiators. It's clean but cluttered and there's basically only two rooms. And the worst part? Rent is still ridiculously high.

Yandere! Incubus has a cell in the abbey. It's almost too neat. Almost like it's not lived in. There's a crucifix above his bed and an uncracked bible on the nightstand. His one concession is his collection of dried flowers. Don't touch - they're all poisonous.

Yandere! Desert Bandit is nomadic and needs to move quickly from one hideout to another. He usually stays in a bayt-al-shar with woven rugs on the floor and oil lanterns burning in the corners. It's much larger than you'd expect and surprisingly warm, even through the icy desert nights. It smells of wood smoke and oud.

Yandere! Academic Rival is a thrift hoe and he knows it. Lots of antiques. He especially loves furniture with plenty of engraving or detailing. He either stays in an uptown penthouse or townhouse that his parents own. Spoiled litte brat.

Yandere! Apocalypse Survivor doesn't stay in one place for too long. And he usually picks places with very few entrances. So be prepared for lots of concrete rooms with boarded up windows.

Yandere! Greek Champion is always fighting, so expect everything from confiscated manor houses to canvas military tents. If he ever returns home, you'll find a villa stuffed with treasure from his conquests. Rare furs and rich tapestries and gleaming bronze urns, built with lots of marble columns and open balconies. He has his own bathhouse and he'll spend hours soaking in the steam, his muscles finally relaxing after months of battle.

#The Yandere Boys #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere drabbles #yandere scenarios #reader insert #x reader #yandere x reader

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joelmillerisapunk · 1 year ago

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a sweet arrangement

sugardaddy!Joel Miller x f!reader

Masterlist ♡ Sugar Daddy Masterlist

Wordcount: 3,374

Summary: You sign up for a sugar daddy app. What's the worst that could happen?

Warnings: 18+, fingering, oral (both m&f receiving), light bondage, reader might have pullable hair (i dont rememeber if i took it out) quick mentions of slut, baby, sweet baby, sweetheart, darlin

Notes: tysm @saradika-graphics for the dividers. I was cheated on over the weekend, and I wrote this as a "I wish I could be here" instead of being sad." Just another rich!daddy fantasy

You've been feeling financially stretched lately, and after hearing about the concept of sugar daddies and sugar babies from a friend, you decided to give it a try. You sit on your bed and hesitantly create a profile on a popular app, describing yourself as a young, independent woman looking for a mutually beneficial arrangement. As you sit scrolling through, you can't help but feel a sigh of reluctance escape your lips. You never expected to find yourself on a sugar daddy dating app, but life has a way of surprising you sometimes.

After a few moments of looking around the site, a notification pops up. It's a message from a user named "Contractor_Guy."

Curiosity piques, and you open the message, hoping it's not some creepy come-on. To your surprise, it reads:

"Hey there. I don't usually do this sort of thing, but I figured it's worth a shot. My name's Joel. If you're interested in getting to know me, send me a message back."

Feeling intrigued, you reply:

"Hi Joel, I'm not sure what 'this sort of thing' is, but I'm curious now.”

The response comes quickly.

Contractor_Guy: "Haha, 'this sort of thing' is something I usually avoid. But hey, it's a new day, and who knows what it might bring?"

You: Hopefully luck! But seriously, what exactly are you avoiding?"

Contractor_Guy: "Haha, well that's a bit of a long story, darlin.”

You: "Oh, I don't mind a long story. I've got some time to kill. Besides, I find it intriguing that someone like you is on a sugar daddy app.”

Contractor_Guy: "Well, my last experience wasn't the best, and I'm just being cautious this time around.

But, here's the long version. I met a girl a few years back, and at first, things were great. We clicked, and the relationship was mutually beneficial. I was able to provide for her in a way she couldn't for herself, and in return, she was there for me when I needed emotional support. As time went on, she started to change. She became more demanding and less appreciative. It got to the point where she would expect extravagant gifts just for a simple text or phone call. I realized that she was only interested in my money and not in the relationship we'd built."

You: "I'm sorry to hear that. It's not easy to find someone who's genuine and appreciates what you have to offer."

Contractor_Guy: "Yeah, it was a tough lesson to learn, but I'm hoping to find someone different this time. Someone who appreciates the little things, too, not just the material things."

You: "I think that's a fair expectation. We all deserve to be appreciated for more than just our wallets. So, Joel, tell me more about yourself. What do you do for a living?"

Contractor_Guy: "I'm a contractor. I do mostly residential construction and home remodeling projects. What about you? What do you do when you're not scrolling through dating apps?”

You: "Lol, I'm usually at work. I'm a graphic designer, so I spend most of my days in front of a computer. It's not the most glamorous job, but I love what I do."

Contractor_Guy: "A graphic designer, huh? That's pretty impressive. I've always been more of a hands-on guy myself. But I must admit, there's something intriguing about a woman in the arts.”

You: "And who doesn't love a man who can wield a hammer and a chainsaw with equal ease?"

Contractor_Guy: "Oh, I'm definitely good with my hands darlin' ;). ”

You: "Maybe one day you'll show me just how good you are with your hands."

As the conversation continues to flow effortlessly, you both exchange numbers and agree to meet for a coffee date tomorrow. Before signing off, you send a playful message with a picture attached

You: "Well, I'm off to begin the countdown to our coffee date. I'll leave you with this little teaser. ;)"

Insert a picture of you posing confidently in a cute outfit, with a mischievous grin on your face.

Contractor_Guy: "Wow, that definitely has me counting down the hours! I can't wait to see you in person."

With that, you end the conversation eagerly anticipating your first in-person meeting with the intriguing contractor.

The two of you meet for the first time at a trendy coffee shop downtown, and you can immediately sense Joel's charm and confidence. You can tell he's done this a time or two. He offers to buy you a drink and pulls out the mattest black credit card you have ever seen to pay with. He guides you to a table in the back corner, and you both engage in light conversation, discussing your interests and goals. Joel is clearly intrigued by you, and you feel a spark of attraction towards him as well.

"So, tell me more about yourself," Joel says, his eyes locked on yours.

"Well, like I said on the app, I'm a freelance graphic designer," you reply, “It's not the most stable job, but I love what I do."

"I can imagine," Joel says, a hint of admiration in his voice. "I've always been a fan of the arts. But I'm sure you understand the struggles of making ends meet as a freelancer. That's why I'm interested in this arrangement."

"I do understand," you agree, your mind already contemplating the potential benefits of such an arrangement. "It would be nice to have some financial stability while still being able to pursue my passion."

"Exactly," Joel says, his tone firm but understanding. "And in return, I'd like you to be my companion when I need someone to spend time with. We can go on dates, attend social events, or just relax at home. I value your company, you're easy on the eyes and brain, and I believe we would make a great team."

"I think that sounds fair," you say, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. "I'm looking for something similar - someone who understands my situation and is willing to help me out."

Joel offers to take you to his place for a glass of wine, and as he leads you to his car, the conversation shifts to the details of the arrangement.

"Now that we've established the terms," Joel says, his voice low and serious, "I want to make something clear. I'm going to support you financially in any way you could ever dream of or want, but there's one condition."

"What's that?" You ask, your curiosity piqued.

"I want access to you whenever I please, however I please," Joel says, his eyes meeting yours. "I want to be able to use you for my pleasure whenever I want. Are you comfortable with that?"

Your heart races as you consider his request. You know what he's asking for, and you're not sure if you're ready for that level of intimacy. But at the same time, you can't deny the excitement coursing through your veins.

"I need some time to think about it. This is a big decision."

"Of course," Joel replies, his tone understanding. "Take all the time you need. But remember, this is the condition of our arrangement."

As Joel drives you to his mansion, you can't help but feel a mixture of excitement and trepidation. This is unlike any arrangement you've ever been a part of, and you're not sure what to expect. As you follow Joel upstairs, your heart races in anticipation. He leads you into a large, dimly-lit room, its walls adorned with black velvet and soft, glowing lights. A large bed dominates the center of the room, surrounded by various toys and restraints.

"I want to show you what I mean when I say I want access to you whenever I please.” Joel says, his voice thick with desire.

Joel leads you over to the bed, his eyes never leaving yours. He takes a seat on the edge, patting the space beside him. "Come here, sweetheart," he says, his voice soft and inviting.

You hesitate for a moment, unsure of what to do. But the curiosity and excitement pulsing through you win out, and you find yourself sitting down next to him. Joel's hand reaches out to gently brush a strand of hair from your face. "You're so beautiful, you know that?" he says, his gaze intense.

You feel your entire body get warm at the compliment, your heart racing faster than ever before. "Thank you," you murmur.

Joel's hand begins to trace a path down your arm, sending shivers coursing through your body. "I want to make you feel good, sweetheart," he says, his voice low and husky. "I want to give you pleasure like you've never experienced before."

Your mind is racing as Joel's hand continues to explore your body. You're not sure what to do, but you find yourself leaning into his touch, your body craving more.

"I want to show you something," Joel says, his eyes twinkling with mischief. He stands up and walks over to a large wooden chest at the foot of the bed. He opens it, revealing a variety of toys and restraints. Your heart races as you take in the sight. You've never seen anything like this before, and you're not sure what to make of it. Joel walks back over to you, a blindfold in his hand. "I want to show you how good it can feel to let go and trust someone," he says, his voice soft and soothing.

You hesitate for a moment but something about Joel's words and the look in his eyes makes you feel safe, and you find yourself nodding in agreement. He gently places the blindfold over your eyes, cocooning you in darkness. You can feel his hands on you, guiding you back onto the bed. You trust him, and you let yourself relax into the feeling of his touch.

Joel's hands continue to explore your body, tracing patterns and circles that send shivers of pleasure coursing through you. You can feel the bed shift as he leans over you, his breath hot against your ear. "I want to make you feel so good, sweetheart," he whispers, his voice barely above a whisper. Your breath hitches as his hands continue to wander.

Suddenly, you feel something soft and silky against your skin. It's a scarf, and Joel is using it to gently bind your wrists to the bedposts. You gasp at the feeling of being restrained, but the sensation is not unpleasant. Instead, it heightens your senses, making you more aware of every touch and caress.

Joel continues to explore your body, his hands moving lower and lower until they reach the waistband of your pants. He pauses for a moment, waiting for your consent. "May I?" he asks, his voice low and husky. You nod, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps. He slowly begins to slide your pants down your legs, his hands lingering on your skin as he goes. You can feel the heat of his touch, and you find yourself arching up towards him, wanting more. Finally, your pants are off, and Joel's hands are free to explore your body in earnest. He caresses your thighs, your hips, your stomach, each touch sending waves of pleasure coursing through you.

You can feel yourself growing wet, your body responding to Joel's touch in ways you've never experienced before. You moan softly, your hips bucking up towards him. Joel takes the hint, his fingers finding their way to your wetness. He begins to explore you, his touch gentle but firm. You gasp at the sensation, your body quivering with pleasure. His fingers move in slow, deliberate circles that send shivers of pleasure coursing through your body. You find yourself moaning louder and louder, your hips bucking up towards him as you chase the feeling of release. Finally, you can't take it any longer. You cry out as the orgasm washes over you, your body trembling with pleasure. Joel continues to touch you, his fingers gentle as they bring you down from the peak of pleasure.

Slowly, your breathing returns to normal, and you become aware of your surroundings once again. The blindfold is still over your eyes, and you're still bound to the bed. But you feel safe and content, your body still humming with pleasure. He unties the blindfold, and you blink your eyes against the sudden brightness of the room. He's standing above you, a wicked smile on his face. "Did you like that, sweetheart?" he asks, his voice low and seductive.

"Yes sir," you get out with a hoarse voice.

Joel's gaze travels down your body, taking in the sight of you spread out on his bed, still bound to the bedposts. "Mmm, such a good girl already," he says, his voice full of satisfaction. "I have so much more I want to show you."

He walks over to the wooden chest at the foot of the bed and rummages through it, pulling out a variety of toys and restraints. Joel turns back to you, a pair of handcuffs in his hand. "May I?" he asks, his voice low and seductive.

“You may."

Your heart racies with excitement as Joel cuffs your hands above your head, replacing the soft, luxurious ribbon, and securing you back to the bedpost. You test the restraints, finding that they hold you firmly in place. Your heart is racing with excitement, your body tingling with anticipation. He walks back over to the chest and pulls out a vibrator. He turns it on, the buzzing noise filling the room. You watch as he approaches you. He traces the vibrator over your body, teasing you with each touch. You arch up towards him, wanting more. But Joel is in control, and he takes his time, drawing out the anticipation until you're nearly begging for release."Are you ready for more, darlin’?"

“Yes please,” your breath coming in short gasps.

"Good girl." He traces the vibrator lower, teasing your clit with each pass. You moan, your hips bucking up towards him. But he pulls the vibrator away just as you're about to come.

You whimper in frustration, but Joel just smiles. "Patience, baby, patience," he says.

He continues to tease you, bringing you to the brink of orgasm again and again, but never letting you fully come. You're writhing on the bed, your body begging for release when Joel leans down and whispers in your ear. "Do you trust me, sweetheart?"

You nod, your heart racing. "Yes, I do," you whisper.

Joel smiles, his eyes twinkling with mischief. He leans down and captures your lips in a passionate kiss. You moan, your hips bucking up towards him. You're ready for whatever comes next.

Joel breaks the kiss, his eyes locked on yours. "I'm going to take you to the edge, sweetheart," he says, his voice low and seductive. "And then I'm going to bring you back again. And again. And again. Until you can't take it anymore."

Joel's hand moves back to the vibrator, tracing it over your clit once again. This time, he doesn't stop. He continues to tease and pleasure you. Suddenly, Joel pulls the vibrator away once again. You whimper in frustration, but before you can protest, he's replaced it with his mouth. His tongue expertly teases your clit. His hands roam your body as he brings you to the brink of orgasm once again. This time, however, he doesn't stop. He continues to lick and suck at your clit, his fingers entering you and curling against your G-spot as he pushes you over the edge.

You cry out, your body shaking with pleasure as you come hard against his mouth. Joel doesn't stop, his tongue continuing to torture you as you ride out the waves of your orgasm. As you come down from your orgasm, you gasp for breath, your body still trembling with pleasure. Joel's gaze is intense as he watches you, his face flushed with arousal.

"That was so, fucking good," you manage to gasp out, your voice still hoarse from your orgasm.

Joel smiles, his eyes never leaving yours. "I'm glad you thought so," he says, his voice low and seductive. "But I think it's your turn now."

"My turn?" you ask, your eyes wide with curiosity.

"Yes," Joel says, his smile widening. "It's time for you to return the favor.”

You feel a pang of nerves flood your body. “But I'm still all tied up.”

Joel smirks, leaning in. He grabs the hollows of your cheeks, forcing you to look at him, “ I never said you needed to be untied, did I.”

You swallow hard, your mind racing with the implications of his words. Joel releases your cheeks, his gaze traveling down your body. "You're going to make me very happy tonight, sweetheart. Just remember - I want access to you whenever I please, however I please. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir," you reply, your voice full of submission.

Joel's smile widens, and he reaches down to unfasten his pants. He steps out of them and his boxers, revealing a hard, thick, ready erection. He climbs onto the bed, his legs straddling your chest. "Now, I want you to take me into your mouth," he says, his voice firm and authoritative.

Your heart is racing as you obey. He brings it up to your lips, and your tongue darts out to lick the tip. You can taste the hint of salt and musk, and you find yourself growing aroused again. You open your mouth wide to accommodate his size. He tastes so good, so intense, and you can't get enough. You begin to move your head, your mouth sliding up and down his shaft. Joel gasps, his hips bucking up towards you.

Suddenly he grabs your hair and holds his cock to the hilt, filing up your entire throat, blocking your airway. You try to gasp for breath as Joel holds you down on his large throbbing cock but it's no use. Your head is swimming with pleasure and arousal, and you're not sure if you can take anymore. Just then Joel releases his grip on your hair, allowing you to breathe again. You take the opportunity to pull away, gasping for air. Joel smirks down at you. "Such a good little slut for daddy already," he says, his voice full of praise. "Daddy wants to see more. Show me how much you want me."

You nod, your heart racing with anticipation as Joel pulls away and undoes your restraints. When he's back on the bed, you take him back into your mouth, your hands roaming his beautiful, full thighs. You begin to suck and lick at his cock, your tongue exploring every inch of him. You can hear Joel growing more aroused, his breaths coming in short gasps.

You feel a hand on the back of your head, guiding you. Joel is thrusting into your mouth, his cock sliding in and out. You moan around him, your hands reaching up to cup his balls. He's tensing, his hips bucking harder with each thrust. Suddenly, he lets out the most primal groan you've ever heard, his cock swells in your mouth. He thrusts into you one more time before coming. You can feel his warm come filling your mouth, and you swallow it down eagerly. Joel groans, his hips stilling as he rides out his orgasm.

You pull away, gasping for air and Joel collapses onto his back, his chest rising and falling rapidly. You can see the satisfaction on his face, and you feel proud of yourself. You've never done anything like that before, and you're not sure how you feel about it. But there's a part of you that's excited, that wants to do it again.

You're both panting heavily, your mind still reeling from the intense experience you've just shared. Joel's gaze is locked on yours, his eyes full of admiration and desire. "You were amazing, sweetheart," he says, his voice a low rumble. "I can't wait to show you more." A wave of excitement washes over you as Joel reaches out and gently strokes your cheek, his fingers lingering against your skin. "I want to make this arrangement work, darlin," he says, his voice soft and earnest. "But I need to know that you're in this for the right reasons."

Your heart races as you consider his words. You know what he's asking, and you're not sure if you're ready for the level of intimacy and commitment this arrangement requires. But at the same time, you can't deny the excitement coursing through your veins, the thrill of being desired and pursued by someone like Joel. You nod, your heart racing with both excitement and trepidation. "I think I'm ready to accept your condition," you say, your voice low and hesitant. "But I need to know that you're in this for the right reasons, too."

Joel's eyes meet yours, his gaze intense and serious. "I promise you, I want nothing more than to care for and support you, both financially and emotionally," he says firmly. "And I expect the same companionship in return."

You take a deep breath, your mind racing with the implications of your decision. But there's a part of you that's eager to explore this new world, to find out what it means to be truly desired and cared for by someone like Joel.

"Okay," you finally say, your voice full of resolution. "I want to make this arrangement work too."

Joel's face breaks into a smile, his eyes filled with relief and joy. He pulls you into a warm embrace, his arms wrapping around you tightly. "Thank you, sweetheart," he whispers, his voice full of gratitude. "I'm going to make sure you never regret this decision."

---

Thanks for reading ❤️ let me know if you'd like more from these two

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller #pedro pascal #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #daddy!joel miller #sugardaddy!joel miller

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elizabebabe · 6 months ago

Text

𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐲𝐨𝐠𝐚 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ꕤ 𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐨

𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡: yoga teacher y/n’s student has her thinking unprofessional thoughts.

minors dni!

| “you got so wet so quickly…been a while since someone touched you baby?”

| “damn — spread open for me, on your mat?”

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: use of y/n, pet name, smut with little plot, fingering, f!masturbation, fantasies, horny!y/n, lowk lonely!y/n.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.1k!

𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬: kicking off the remodel with a one-shot !! zabe loves yoga, zabe loves chris, mix em together?

“today we’ll be doing a few more advanced stretches, stretching out your backs, calves and any other tight muscles.” your voice echoed through the studio, your students crisscrossed on their mats awaiting instruction.

you had early morning classes every day of the week but wednesday was particularly your favorite since you got to see a certain student, his name was chris and yes he was handsome but he also cared about your profession or…maybe less about your profession and more about yoga itself.

he wanted you to help him fix his bad back, asking questions, asking for advice, you needed to be professional which is why all your attempts of asking for his number ended in failure.

you turned on your speakers, the usual calm, lyricless music waving through the room, also not forgetting to turn off the lights to give a more relaxed feel you always wanted to share with your students.

“we’re gonna start how we always start, savasana.” you scrambled around the room, stepping between bodies laying atop their personal mats ensuring everyone knew what they were doing.

you took 3-4 minutes to correct anyone making mistakes and marking who could use a bit of help, some days of the week you had kids joining in with their guardian, on wednesdays you have a pretty mixed group of ages so it can be hard to “grade”.

“alright, that’s savasana.”

“come up to ‘mountain’ pose.” you continue, stepping on your mat to follow along to your own instructions, trying to ignore your eyes telling you to gaze at the brunette man in the front row.

⋆˚｡⋆୨୧˚

after an hour of tough stretches, your class huffed and puffed on their way out but one man stayed behind.

“hey.” he nudged at your turned back.

“oh! hi.” the interaction taking you by surprise as you never really interacted, “what can i do for you.” you smiled awkwardly.

“well, with the ‘cobra’ pose.” he hiked his yoga mats strap over his shoulder, “i’m struggling with getting my back that low, it kinda hurts.” he says with a cute, loose smile maybe embarrassed by what he’s saying.

“oh no! if it hurts, find a way to make it more comfortable for you.” you gestured with your hands.

“it shouldn’t hurt, maybe uncomfortable but it shouldn’t hurt—“ the rambling of yours continued.

he snickered which interrupted your words, “thanks.” he gently patted your shoulder before turning towards and out the glass door.

the embarrassment he felt now flipped on you as you wanted to crawl into a hole from the exchange.

⋆˚｡⋆୨୧˚

your drive home was silent as you sat overthinking about what played on your mind, ‘he just wanted advice, he doesn’t like you.’

‘why did he touch you then?’

‘it was a pat on the damn shoulder, did you see how fast he got out of there?’

you felt crazy as voices in your head fought over something so small, your key turned into the knob of your apartment door, remembering the exam you promised yourself to study for.

you were in community college, typically only having one class a day left lots of time to work on your yoga studio your parents helped pay for.

you threw your tote and mat to the ground, ignoring the thought to change into some of your loose pajamas and sitting at your small dining table for one.

the first few minutes of studying were fine, even taking off your fitted white jacket as you got in the zone. you were able to focus and concentrate on the work ahead of you but that didn’t stop the little voice in your head nagging about him.

you knew his name was chris or at least that’s what he filled out on the forms you had tucked in a random cabinet—

‘this is crazy.’ you huffed before averting your attention back to your notebook.

…

you scrolled through your phone immediately contradicting yourself by looking for different chris’s throughout social media — ‘doesn't he follow the studio's instagram?’

you scrolled through the following list before finding him, his handsome face adorning his profile picture and only a few photos on his feed, but you loved every second of scrolling through them..

adjusting yourself in your chair every so often at the sight of his beautifully crafted face, you couldn't help your fingers sliding past the waistband of your tight leggings that matched that thrown fitted jacket and quickly underneath your light blue panties that you could only hope chris would see one day.

your fingers quickly found your wet folds slipping through the slick and imagining it was the man from your front row, “you got so wet so quickly…been a while since someone touched you baby?” his voice echoed through your head.

the guilt you felt from thinking about him almost warranted you to stop but when your finger accidentally grazed over your clit you couldn’t stop yourself.

the actions continued, one of your fingers dipping into your soppy hole, another leaving airy touches on your clit.

it wasn’t enough, even with his face and his veiny hands you remember pressing firmly into the mat beneath him you couldn’t hit the right spots you knew those long fingers of his could.

but it didn’t stop you from trying, you pushed deeper into yourself once you slid down the wooden chair you uncomfortably sat in the position of your hips reminding you of when you instructed him through a certain pose even showing him a private demonstration, your fingers curling and grazing that spongy spot you aimed for, you remember that day, silently begging him to make a move, touch you in a any way but he never did.

trying to focus on your fantasy as you pumped into yourself made you wetter, “damn — spread open for me, on your mat?” you imagined him laying you down, taking his time while he undressed you, your drippy hole dripping onto the mat beneath you both.

“you’re gonna have to clean this later.” he says, scissoring his fingers inside you, eliciting a moan from your throat.

“gonna think about me when you do it?”

“how wet i get you?” he continued.

“chris..” you grunted as your body buzzed and legs shook, you were close and all because you “stumbled” upon his instagram, your fingers picked up speed, vigorous motion ensued on your sensitive bud.

the rope snapping in your stomach halting your movements, your mouth agape and sweat dotting your skin.

a certain ’ding’ brought your attention back to your phone.

an instagram dm, a unexpected “can we talk?” from the man you finished all over your fingers for.

second smut baby !! and it’s about my man..

i hate this :( that’s why it took me so long to post bc i was debating whether it was too lackluster but i wanted to post something while i work on longer things, again thank you for the support on ‘southern belle’ and i love you. 🕰️

🏷️ @fratbrochrisgf @3lizaluvs @lily-strnlo @i-love-ptv @venusjaynie @jetaimevous @lizzysmith110 @firexovni @bagsbyclair0

i hope you’re satisfied with your purchase!

#zabe's finest pieces 👚#the sturniolo triplets #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo #chris x reader #chris sturniolo smut #zabebabe

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cult-of-husbandos · 6 months ago

Text

₊˚ʚ 🫧 ₊˚✧ ﾟ. ━ 𝐛𝐮𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐡

pairing: soft yandere!bakudekutodo x willing!reader

genre: fluff, poly au, pro hero, gender neutral reader

synopsis: there's nothing more relaxing than taking a nice, hot bubble bath when you have the entire apartment to yourself with your playlist playing and the bathroom door locked.

word count: 4.8k

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The apartment is quiet and empty for the entire day since this morning, and you seized the chance for some much needed alone time. SWV’s Rain is playing from your bluetooth speaker, set on a low volume, softly bouncing echoes around the bathroom walls. You dipped your fingers under the running tap to test the temperature.

Hot. Perfect.

Smiling and humming to yourself, you pour in the scented bubble bath. As the bubbles formed a delicate, foamy blanket covering the tub, you turned off the tap.

You strip off your robe and sink slowly into the piping hot bubble bath. You let out a sigh of relief as you submerged your entire body into the bathtub, keeping your head above water. Thanks to your boyfriends’ unrelenting remodeling of the entire house, especially the bathroom, your bathtub is now big enough to be a sensory pod. You closed your eyes and let out another relaxing sigh, letting your body float and sway with the water.

“Fuck…” you moan. “I really needed this.”

You can’t remember the last time you had a bubble bath let alone the apartment all to yourself. Your boyfriends had to leave super early in the morning, leaving you alone once again. You wished you could enjoy your days out like before, but you had a feeling your boyfriends would tie you to the bed and never let you out ever again. Though you did have sun, or as much fun as you could, running small errands.

“I fucking love bubble baths!” you yell, splashing around and pumping your fist.

After floating and soaking in the comforting scent, you raise up and reach for your new book you bought this afternoon. You lean back and sigh again.

“Haah… this is the shit right here. All alone, 90’s R&B playing, and the latest new smut to hit the shelves for desperate housewives.”

You flip open the book and begin to read:

“In the barn where the shadows danced along the wooden walls, she walked alone, veiled in candle light. Her heart beat in a melodic rhythm longing to have a partner join in.”

“Ooh~. A spicy slow burn~.”

You continued reading, losing yourself in the novel and feeling your muscles relax in the water. For a while, nothing else existed but you, your hot bubble bath, your music, and the story unfolding in your hands.

That is, until you heard the front door of the apartment open and close. You lowered your book a bit and listened out for the sounds of who came home. You’re immediately dreading the inevitable. There’s a good reason you wanted to take this bath alone. You heard a voice call softly. The master bathroom is a bit far from the entrance. Soft beats of feet quickly turned into panicked thuds. Thuds that sounded like running. The thuds came to a halt outside the bathroom door and the doorknob jiggled stiffly/ You must’ve locked the door on instinct.

“(Y/N)?” A gentle but panicked voice called out, a bit muffled. Izuku Midoriya, the number one hero of Japan. You smile to yourself, hearing his worry. The man can knock down a building using only his pinky but can look so cute while doing it. His baby face doesn’t match his buff and scarred body and you often tease him about it, calling him the baby-faced hero.

‘It’s rare that he’s home first. That’s surprising…’ you think to yourself. A knock brought you out of your thoughts.

“Baby… are you in there?” he asked, sounded even more worried the longer you stayed silent. There’s no point in staying silent. Not only is the locked door a dead giveaway that you’re in here, but Lauryn Hill’s Ex-Factor is echoing throughout the bathroom.

“Yeah, baby. I'm in here.” you answer. “How was your day? It’s rare that you’re the first one home.”

“Oh! Good. And yeah! Things ended early at the agency so I came home as soon as I could.”

Jiggle Jiggle

“Oh really? That’s even rarer! You’re really lucky.”

Jiggle Rattle Jiggle

“Yeah! And I have even tomorrow off so we can spend all morning sleeping in together!”

Rattle Rattle Jiggle

“That’ll be fun! It’s been a while since you had a day off.”

BANG

There’s a pause on the other side of the door.

“Baby…” His voice is quiet. “Why is the door locked?”

“Because I’m in here?” you chuckle at the question. “I’m taking a bubble bath.”

“Oh, I see.” It got quiet again. “Can you come out please?”

You sigh, knowing this would happen eventually but you thought you’d be done and at least clothed. Izuku is the clingiest one out of your boyfriends, a close second to a certain icy-hottie. “I would, buuut I just got in and it’s a bit ridiculous to get out the tub, dry off, welcome you home, and get back in the tub.”

“I can get in the bathtub with you!” Izuku is no longer turning the doorknob. It sounds more like he’s pushing his weight onto the door.

“Izuku, I would really like some alone time right now.”

“What.” His tone sounded somewhere between hurt and distressed. “Are you saying you don’t want to be with me? What’re you doing in there? Are you doing something that you don’t want me to see? Why would you have the door locked in our house? What’re you hiding from me? I don’t like secrets, (Y/N). (Y/N)? Open the door. Why aren’t you saying anything? Are you really hiding something from me? You can open the door for me, right? If you can open the door that means that you have nothing to hide, right? I want to hug you and kiss you so much. Don’t you want to kiss me too? Don’t you love me anymore? Open the door please…!”

Loud banging rattled the walls as Izuku forcefully tried to get in the bathroom, muttering his feelings out loud. You, on the other hand, remained calm. You’ve dealt with this situation before and knew how to handle his spirals. You also know that the door isn’t going to budge even with Japan's strongest hero banging down on it.

“Hey Izu?” you called out, sweetly. “You’re not trying to use your quirk to break down the door, are you?”

The banging and rattling immediately stopped and was followed by a long pause.

“H-Huh?”

“Right. You wouldn’t do that because you know that during the remodeling you replaced all the doors and windows with a specific material that can’t be broken or shattered by any quirk including abnormal strength quirks, right?” You try to mask your teasing tone, but can’t help but slyly smile, imagining the embarrassed look on his face.

“N-No! I mean yes! I do remember that…” he mumbled sheepishly.

You stifle a giggle. Izuku is always fun to tease. “Zuzu. How about we make a deal?”

“A deal?”

“Yeah. If you set a time for an hour I promise, even when the rest of the boys come home first, you will be the first one to get welcome home hugs and kisses.”

This is a big deal in the apartment. It’s become routine that when the boys come home you greet them with a hug and kisses. Normally, only a certain hothead has been the reigning champion of that routine since they’re always the first one home. Izuku has always wanted to be the first one home so he can love you first, but his schedule never gave him the opportunity, having to settle for second place and, sometimes, third place. You can tell from the happy mumblings behind the door that he’s ecstatic about it, however…

“An hour? I don’t know if I can wait for an hour.” he whined.

You hum and think for a minute. “Okay, how about 45 minutes? You can get started on dinner so the time goes by faster. I’d really love it if you made me your delicious Karaage.”

“Okay! It’s a promise! I’ll get started right away!” You can hear the excitement in his voice as his footsteps headed towards the kitchen.

You laugh lightly at your goofy boyfriend and relax back into the tub, reopening your book.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

Time passed and you are at a particularly steamy moment in the novel –

“Farmhand Ben ran his calloused fingers through her hair – his hot breath causing a shiver to run down her spine. This feeling was new to Dorothy. Sparks of heat were radiating from her womanhood that couldn’t be smothered by the stormy flood that soaked her cotton panties. Her nipples stood erect at the scent of a dominant man’s musk.”

“...Her what now?”

Suddenly, the front door slammed shut and heavy and impatient footsteps could be heard throughout the apartment. You jump at the sudden noise only to calm down once you recognize the shouting – Bakugou Katsuki, your second boyfriend and Japan’s number two hero. His shouts can be heard all the way to the bathroom. Again, the kitchen and the master bathroom is far so the fact you could hear him only made it more prominent how loud he’s being. You roll your eyes when you hear him shout at Izuku.

“Oi! (Y/N)! Where the hell are you?!”

Normally, Bakugou is the first one home so it’s become routine that you’re the first one he sees and he’s the first one to receive a welcome home hug and kiss. He always brags about it to make the others jealous.

You groan inwardly. You love your boyfriend, but sometimes he’s too damn loud. Before you could respond, Bakugou’s already in front of the bathroom door, hammering and rattling the door and doorknob harder than Izuku had. Izuku must’ve told him where you were.

“Welcome home, Katsuki.” you greet nonchalantly.

“Don’t fuck with me! What the hell’re you doing in there with the door locked?!” he asked, his voice full of aggression and annoyance. Typical Bakugou.

“I’m doing my taxes.”

“(Y/N).” he warned.

“I’m taking a bubble bath, Katsuki.”

“Why the hell are you taking a bath?!”

“Um, to smell good obviously.”

“Then why don’t you take a shower, dumbass?!”

“I’m not having this argument with you again!”

Another big bang came from behind the door.

“Get the hell out here! I want my hugs and kisses!” he demanded.

“I’m kinda naked and wet right now!”

“You’re always fucking wet and naked!”

Blushing, you stuttered and quickly changed the subject. “D-Didn’t you yell at Izu yesterday for tracking water on the bathroom floor after his shower?”

“That’s different! That shitty nerd can barely dry his hair and he’s always wandering around the house half-dry!”

You sigh heavily and lean back, resting your head against the edge of the tub. You refuse to let his temper ruin your mood. “Well, I’m not done yet. I’ll give you a proper ‘welcome home’ when I’m done, okay? Just be patient.”

A tense silence filled the air only lightened a bit by your music before he spoke again. “I’m not in the mood to be ignored, babe.”

“I’m not ignoring you! I just want to take a bubble bath in peace.”

You hear the muffled popping of his quirk against the door. Bakugou is a very needy person. Clingy and needy might sound the same, but between Izuku and Bakugou it’s a huge difference. Izuku is the clingy type in the same sense that he pleads and holds onto you 24/7 begging for kisses and whispering ‘i love you’s’ all day long. Bakugou is the needy type to where if you forget to give him a kiss once he’ll have a temper tantrum and demand double kisses and never let you forget it again. Whatever he wants is a need and whatever he needs he wants. You sigh again quietly hearing the muffled booms get louder and louder, the slight smell of smoke seeping into the bathroom.

“Hey Katsuki?”

“Hah?!”

“I’d really love it if you made us your spicy ramen for dinner tonight.”

“Haah?!!”

“If you make it, I promise that as soon as I’m done I’ll give you double the kisses and sit on your lap during dinner.”

There was a pause as the booms came to a stop. “You promise?”

“I promise.” you reassure.

He let out a huff. “Tch, fine! But you better keep your damn promise! Or I’m busting this damn door down!”

With that, he stormed off, grumbling loudly under his breath. You knew he wouldn’t really break down the door. Not only because it was an idle threat, but also because after Izuku made the windows and doors virtually unbreakable, he hired someone to make the doors fire retardant as well. You remember him calling Izuku an idiot for not thinking about the “obvious”. You returned back to your book, raising the volume of Mary J. Blige’s I’m Going Down slightly to drown out Bakugou’s yelling.

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You lost track of time as you continued to read your novel, nearly reaching the end:

“Dorothy ran away from the ranch that night. Ran away from the barn where she became a woman. Ran away from Farmhand Ben. Ran away from the only place she ever called home. She couldn’t describe the betrayal she felt nor the heartbreak that racked her body. Heavy rain poured down on Dorothy’s small frame, soaking her white attire. She ran far on the winding dirt road, her breasts bobbing boobily with every bounce. Her nipples twirling–”

“Okay, what the actual fuck am I reading? Who the fuck wrote this?” You look at the front and back of the book. “T.I.A Morison? …There’s no picture either? Oh my god, this was written by a fucking man, wasn’t it?!”

“(Y/N), are you in there?” A soft voice called out to you, surprising you from your rant. Shoto Todoroi, your third boyfriend, is finally home. You were so wrapped up in this shitty smut that you didn’t hear the front door or his footsteps approaching the bathroom door.

“Oh, yeah Shoto. I’m in the bath,” you answer, placing your book down on the floor. “Welcome home.”

“I’m home.”

“...”

“Shoto?” you called out, wondering why he’s being silent. “Do you need something?”

“I need you.” he answered, quickly and bluntly.

You laugh. “I’m taking a bubble bath right now, honey. Can you wait until I finish?”

He pauses before speaking again. “I heard you talking about a man.”

“Oh yeah.” you grumbled, thinking to yourself that you should return the book tomorrow.

“Why?”

“Um…”

“Are you thinking of other men? Why were you shouting about another man? Is that why the door is locked?”

You sigh to yourself. Shoto is the most obsessive out of the other two with a big mix of clingy and needy. He’d burn down an apartment building at the slightest mention of you being chilly. He’s actually the one that “suggested” that you stay at home. Well, his actual first suggestion is to keep you locked in the bedroom so you won’t get hurt wandering the apartment.

“Answer me, (Y/N).” An icey bitterness blows from under the door and sends a chill down your spine, making you sink a little deeper into the now lukewarm water.

“Woah, calm down, honey.” you soothe. “I was just talking about the author of this novel I’m reading. Clearly there are men walking this earth that don’t know a goddamn thing about female anatomy!” You’re getting riled up thinking about the paragraph.

“So… you aren’t thinking about men?”

“Absolutely not. You, Katsuki, and Izuku are all I think about.”

“Prove it.”

“Um… prove what?”

“Prove that you weren’t thinking about another man. Show me the book.”

“Haah… Shoto, baby… I know that’s just a ploy to get me to open the door, but I promise that once I’m done, I’ll show you the book so that you can burn it because honestly it’s not even worth the hassle of returning it.”

“...”

“Shoto?”

“I don’t like this.”

“Hm? Don’t like what?”

“Talking to this door and… only hearing your voice. I want to see you and touch you and hold you when we talk. I don’t like it when you’re away from me.” he explained, a pleading tone evident in his voice. “It makes me… anxious.”

You feel a bit guilty. Shoto’s always the last one home so he’s always in last place to everything happening in the relationship. Cuddles, kisses, hand holding, movie nights, dinner times, date nights, etc.. Even though he never mentioned it, you always got the feeling he felt left out when it came to together and alone time since Bakugou and Izuku would swoop up and steal you. Especially during bedtime.

“I’m sorry, Sho. I didn’t mean to make you anxious.” you apologize. “To make it up to you, I will… cuddle you for the next 3 nights and make you your favorite food for those days as well. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner.”

“You promise?” he asked, his voice soft.

“I promise.” you replied.

Just then, rapid footsteps approached the door.

“(Y/N)! (Y/N)! It’s been 45 minutes! Remember your promise!” Izuku announced, knocking impatiently.

“Yeah yeah! Okay, I’m getting out now.”

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You emerged from the bedroom and walked into the living room, fully dried off and wearing Shoto’s shirt with your comfy dolphin shorts. You smile seeing all your boyfriends setting up the table in their own casual pajamas. Thank goodness this apartment had more than one bathroom. Once Katsuki notices you, he groans and rolls his eyes, making his way to you.

“Fucking finally! Thought you were gonna be in there all night!” He raises his arms to hug you, but you stop him.

“Nuh-uh.” You step aside.

“Huh?! The fuck you mean “nuh-uh”?!”

“Izuku got home first and I promised him that I would greet him first.”

You walk up and hug your smiley freckled boyfriend. Katsuki clicked his tongue.

“Shitty Deku! Don’t think you’re hot shit just ‘cause you got home first! If I weren’t busy dealing with idiots and shitty villains, I’d be home first! I’ll be here first tomorrow so fall back behind me, shitnerd!”

“I just got lucky to get home first, Kacchan. Don’t be selfish.” Izuku responded calmly with a smirk. He cupped your cheek and placed a gentle kiss on your lips.

“I missed you…” he murmured into your shoulder, placing soft kisses along your clavicle.

“It was only 45 minutes, silly.” you say with a laugh. “But I missed you too.”

Izuku raised his face to look at you with a soft look in his eyes that still had a hint of neediness in them. “Yeah, but it felt like forever…” he mumbled, reluctantly letting you after a few minutes.

Katsuki stared at you intensely as you approached him. He hates being in second place, especially to Izuku. His usual scowl fixed to his face, but you know deep down he’s just as eager to get a kiss from you as the others.

“Took you long enough, dumbass.” he grumbled, his hands immediately settling on your waist and pulling you in close.

You roll your eyes playfully and wrap your arms around his neck. “Yeah, yeah. Sorry to keep you waiting.”

He clicked his tongue and leaned in close, his lips barely touching yours. “Damn right, you should be.” he muttered, his expression softening as he leaned in for a kiss. His kisses are rough and demanding, but have an unmistakable sense of warmth and neediness. As promised, you gave him double the kisses which he took full advantage of, taking his chances to shoot boastful glares at a jealous Izuku. When he finally pulled back, he pressed his forehead against yours and stared lovingly in your eyes.

“Lock me out again and I’ll destroy every damn door in this place, got it?” he ordered, his voice taking on a commanding tone.

“Got it.” you whisper back, giving him one last peck on the nose before moving onto Shoto.

Shoto’s gaze remains unwavering as you approach him, his heterochromatic eyes staring deeply into your soul. He didn’t say a word, just simply grabbed onto your waist with a firm grasp.

“I’m home.” he whispered softly, possessiveness in his tone as he smiled at you. Before you can greet him back, he quickly leaned in and captured your lips with a slow, deep kiss that left you breathless. His cool fingers traced the line down your back causing a shiver to run down your spine. He chucked against your lips, savoring the shivers from your body pressed against him. When he pulled back, he buried his face in your neck. “Next time, let me in with you. I can’t stand being away from you too long.”

You chuckle softly and nod. “Alright. I’ll keep that in mind.”

With all three of them satisfied – at least for now – you pulled away and looked at your chefs for tonight’s dinner.

“Now, can we eat?” you ask, licking your lips. “I’m starving and the food smells soo good.”

Izuku nods eagerly, his eyes brightening. “Yes, of course! I hope you like it! I tried really hard to make it extra yummy for you!”

Bakugou sucked his teeth and crossed his arms. “If it tastes like shit, I’m killing you, shitty nerd!”

You giggle lightly at the banter happening between two of your boyfriends and take a seat next to Bakugou as promised, which made him smirk in silent pride. He nearly pulled you into his lap, that’s how close he wanted you next to him. However, you weren’t focused on that. You were focused on the delicious aroma of fried chicken and spicy ramen that filled the living room. The combination of food in front of you makes your mouth water and the table is soon filled with the chattering of chopsticks and the satisfied slurps and hums of approval.

“Mm! You really outdid yourself, Izu!” you exclaim between bites, munching eagerly on the chicken. “This is amazing!”

“I’m glad you like it! I tried my best!” Izuku beamed, a light blush dusting his cheeks.

Katsuki huffed. “It’s not that amazing. It’s under-seasoned and the chicken is chewy as hell.”

Yet, you saw that he continued to eat the non-amazing chicken. “Aww~! Are you jealous, Ka-tsu-ki~?” you tease.

A bright red blush covered Bakugou’s cheeks and the tip of ears. “H-Hah?! Fucking no!”

“I love your spicy ramen too, Katsuki. You’re such an amazing chef.” Sometimes it helps to stroke his ego to yield his jealousy.

Bakugou huffed again, clearly pleased with your praise, but trying to play it off. “Of course it’s good. I made it, didn’t I?”

You laugh at his tsundere-like response, but before you could tease him anymore, Izuku interjected. “So, how was your day, (Y/N)? What did you do while we were out?”

“Oh, not much.” you answer, taking a bit of spicy ramen. “Just ran a few errands, went to the bookstore, not much else.”

They all stopped immediately and gave you varying looks of surprise and concern.

Shoto raises his eyebrow. “You went outside?”

“Mhm.”

“By yourself?”

“Yeah, but just for a bit.” you reassure, already sensing the possessiveness radiating from them. “Plus, I wasn’t gone all day. Maybe 2 or 3 hours max and just to a couple of stores.”

Each of your boyfriends exchanged knowing looks as you continued.

“Oh! I also ran into Sero and Kaminari while I was out.”

That set them off. Izuku’s eyes darkened at the mention of their names, small lines of smoke rose from Shoto, and Bakugou scowled harshly, snapping his chopsticks in half and pulling you closer to him tightly.

“Those two extra?” Bakugou growled irritably. “What the fuck did they want with you?”

“They just said hi and asked how everyone was doing,” you tell them, shrugging. “Oh! And Kaminari said that there’s going to be a drinking party this Friday and they want you to come, Katsuki. He said Mina, Kirishima, and Ochako are gonna be there too–”

“Fuck that!” he spat. “Why the hell would I want to waste my time with those bastards when I can come home and drink for free and be with people I actually care about?!”

“Aw Bakubabe–”

“Shut the fuck up, Icy-hot!”

“Well, they knew you would say that so they told me to tell you that they're gonna go ahead and reserve the restaurant anyway. They didn’t tell me the name because they were afraid you’d call and cancel, but they did say that it was a place that had your credit card on file.”

Tiny sparks popped from Bakugou’s clenched fist, burning his broken chopsticks. “Those damn bastards…”

Shoto’s expression remained neutral, but the grip on his chopsticks tightened, freezing it nearly solid. “I don’t like the idea of you going out alone.” Shoto said firmly.

Izuku, trying to stay calm but visibly anxious, chimed in as well. “I agree with Todoroki! W-What if something happened to you and we couldn’t get to you? There’s been an increase in villain attacks lately and I’d never forgive myself if–”

“Woah there, Zuzu. Breathe, all of you. Nothing happened I swear. I was careful and made sure to stay in the safe areas. Besides, I’m pretty capable of defending myself with all the stuff you guys gave me. The pepper spray, taser, pocket knives, mace, bear mace, brass knuckles, brass knuckles with a taser in it–”

“W-What?! I never gave you any of that stuff!”

“I gave it to them. You can never be too cautious with these fucking people.” Katsuki grumbled, his grip tightening on your thigh.

“Katsuki’s right. And I promise, it was just a quick trip. I just didn’t want to be cooped up inside all day. I really don’t mind staying inside, but I really had an itch to go outside today. I’ve even read every book in this house, even the manual for the dishwasher, refrigerator, and toaster oven which is why I went to the bookstore. Oh, that reminds me. Shoto sweetie, I need you to burn a book for me.”

Bakugou grumbled something under his breath, still clearly annoyed, but he didn’t push it further since the bigger problem of Sero and Kaminari abusing his card in a random restaurant made him angrier. Shoto’s gaze lingered on you a bit longer before he sighed and nodded, accepting your explanation.

“Wait… burn your book?”

To ease the tension, Izuku quickly perked up. “Oh! I know! Since I’m off tomorrow, if you want, how about we go on a date? Just the two of us.” His eyes sparkled with excitement.

You smile at him. “We haven’t been out together in a while. I’d love that.”

“Yay! It’s a date!” he exclaimed, giddy with anticipation.

The rest of dinner became relaxed again as you all talked about your day, the current hero gossip, and the latest on villain activity in the city.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

After dinner, you all heated to bed. As promised, you cuddled up next to Shoto, who’s already lying under the covers waiting for you. He pulled you into his embrace the moment you slipped into bed, his blend of cool and hot soothing you.

“I’ve been looking forward to this since dinner.” Shoto whispered against your ear, his breath tickling your neck and sending shivers down your spine. His grip on you is firm, almost like he’s staking his claim on you, but there’s a gentleness in how he holds you close.

You snuggled closer into him, feeling his heartbeat steady against your back. “I promised, didn’t I?” you murmured back, smiling.

Meanwhile, Izuku and Bakugou stood at the foot of the bed, looking at you two with a mixture of resignation and jealousy. Izuku pouted, clearly wanting to be the one holding you and Bakugou just crossed his arms, clicking his tongue in annoyance.

“Tch! You’re hogging them, you icy-hot bastard.” Katsuki complained.

Shoto simply closed his eyes, content with having you in his arms. “You’ll get your turn in 3 days.” he sighed calmly.

“What the hell?!”

“3 days?! That’s not fair!”

“A promise is a promise, Zuku. Don’t be selfish.” you say, throwing his words back at him.

It was Izuku’s turn to huff with a pout. He climbed into bed, facing you while Bakugou settled in behind him. “Fine,” he grumbled, a pout on his adorable lips. “but I’m not letting you get away with this again.” He reached out his hand to gently touch your, interlocking your fingers with his. Katsuki grunted in agreement, sleep taking over him.

As the night grew quiet, the soft sound of their breathing lulled you to sleep. Shoto’s arms were wrapped securely around you and Izuku intimately held your hand even in deep sleep. Bakugou’s soft snoring even sounded melodic. Their combined warmth surrounded you in a cocoon of affection.

Maybe next time you’ll invite them to your next bubble bath.

─── ⋆⋅ ❤︎ ⋅⋆ ───

a/n: making my first poly mha fanfic so i hope i did good! also trying out a new new style and format so let me know if you like it! my inbox is open so if you have a suggestion, shoot me one. i'm not the best at answering, but i do my best!♡

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on-my-vigilante-sht · 1 year ago

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Immortal Danger

Apollo x DaughterofDemeter!Reader

Summary: Apollo marries a half-blood without realizing how dangerous it can be.

Warning: PJO universe but no real PJO plot, (kind of) smut, threats, monsters, Ares slander

Word Count: 4.7K

Masterlist | Part 2

A/N Sam Claflin is my personal headcanon for Apollo and if he isn’t cast for the Titan’s Curse season I’m gonna cry

“Am I even allowed to be here?” I asked as Apollo and I materialized in his home on Mount Olympus.

“Probably not but Demeter’s already gonna be pissed when she finds out we eloped in Vegas,” Apollo smiles, pulling me down onto the couch. I laughed as he did so, taking a chance to look around. I was in awe. The ceiling to the sitting room was just a giant skylight and the sun seemed to perpetually shine through it. There were balconies in the column of the sun, revealing the upper levels of the extravagant manor decorated in gold.

“This place is incredible,” I said in awe.

“Yeah, Annabeth did a great job with the remodel. And it’s all yours,” he swore, his lips brushing against my cheek. “Everything that’s mine is also yours.”

“Really?” I challenged teasingly. “Then can I drive the sun chariot.”

He faltered. “Well… after Thalia, I don’t think-”

“I’m joking,” I assured him. “I don’t want to torch Antarctica. Or make North Africa freeze over.”

“I’ll give you lessons some day,” he promised. “Maybe when you’re a goddess and that human nervousness about dying instinct fades.” I laughed before he sprung up. “C’mon,” he said, pulling me up from the couch. “I wanna show you the bedroom.”

“Very subtle,” I chided him.

“I know,” he agreed with a cocky smile as he began climbing the stairs. “But you’re my wife now.” We went up so many levels I was beginning to get tired but Apollo was already practically dragging me up the stairs. When we went to a set of double doors I thought we were done with the stairs but there was one more flight. I followed him up, eyes widening as I realized his room made up the entire top floor.

There was a circle in the floor covered by glass with a view to the sitting room, allowing the sun to shine through the whole house. But the ceiling of the room itself was a glass dome, flooding the whole room with light. Surprisingly, it wasn’t ridiculously hot but that’s a perk of being the sun god. Several plants grew in various pots around the room—I had a sneaking suspicion he added them recently—and the walls were lined with various weapons, mostly bows and arrows. The bed itself was tucked into a sort of alcove, with pillows lining the edge of it, leaning up against the walls so as to make the whole alcove a soft bed. I noticed curtains hanging in front of the bed to shield it from the rest of the room, as well as a contraption above it against the glass probably to block the light from above.

Apollo came up next to me. “I know you’re a light sleeper so I had the curtains put in to block out the light.”

“This is incredible,” I said in awe. “But uh- do gods sleep?”

“We don’t have to but I love sleeping,” he smiled. “It’s one of the best things humans invented.”

I stepped closer to the bed, reaching down to feel the soft mattress. “Gods, do you know how long it’s been since I slept in a bed that wasn’t a twin size mattress?” I asked. Even though at 24 I was far older than any of the other campers at Camp Half-Blood, I had to stay there as the outside world had become too dangerous for me. Once I turned 22, Chiron finally let me have a room in The Big House because even the oldest campers besides for me were still around 17.

“Well,” Apollo began, getting closer until I was laying down on the mattress and his face was so close to mine I could see the gold flecks in his eyes, “I was thinking we’d consummate our marriage in this bed before sleeping,” he suggested, kissing me.

“I’d be open to that,” I laughed, kissing him back. Using godly strength, he managed to wrap an arm around my waist before pulling me up closer to the middle of the bed so our feet weren’t hanging off. As he kissed me, I could feel his hand find the zipper on the back of my wedding dress. But just as he started to bring it down, there was a bell and a shout.

“Apollo?” a masculine voice called through the house.

Our lips parted, and he rested his forehead on mine with a groan. “I hate him.”

“Who is it?” I asked.

“Hermes. Look, he can’t see you. He and I are cool now but he still can’t see you.”

“Okay,” I agreed. “I’ll just stay here.”

He nodded, pressing a kiss to my forehead before running downstairs to an incessant Hermes. As he went down the stairs I watched in amazement as his tux transformed into a t-shirt and shorts. Once he left I started looking around the room more, wary of the giant glass circle in the middle of the room. I went up to the weapons, finding various plaques describing what momentous kill each weapon was responsible for. A little bit self obsessed to have in your bedroom but, hey, that’s Apollo.

As the gods moved to the sitting room I could hear them through the glass. “I know you’ve been dating a demigod,” Hermes’ voice came. “Chiron just sent a distress signal about a missing half-blood.”

“So…?” Apollo’s voice came, trying to act nonchalant.

“I’m saying that the girl you’ve been dating is the missing half-blood. Chiron is worried sick because apparently she’s powerful but will attract a lot of monsters. And Ares is still pissed at you for putting an arrow through him during World War I. She could be in danger of him while not under Dionysus’ protection.”

“Well, I don’t know what to tell you, man. I haven’t seen her in a few weeks.”

“I haven’t known you to go even two days without seeing the person you’re dating.” I could hear the accusing tone in Hermes’s voice. And Apollo knew he was backed into a corner.

“Yeah well, dating a half-blood is hard. Chiron and Dionysus have her on lockdown. And do you know what Demeter would do to me? You remember how she lost it when Persephone ran off with Hades. How am I going to explain that I’m dating her half-human daughter?”

“Well you better pray Ares doesn’t find out about her or he’ll probably kill her just to piss you off.” Kill me?

“Look I’m going to have father turn her into a goddess soon anyway. She’ll be fine.”

“You’re awfully nonchalant about your little human going missing. Is it because she’s actually here?” Hermes accused.

“No!” Apollo said unconvincingly.

“Y/N!” Hermes called. “I know you’re here. Come on out.” I froze. What do I do? Obey the god or obey the other god?

“She’s not here and even if she was, she’d listen to what I said.” I didn’t move, contemplating whether or not I should hide.

“Fine, then you won’t mind if I check your bedroom.”

Σκατά. I could just hide in one of the many other rooms in the house. Hermes probably wouldn’t take the time to check every room. But once I reached the top of the stairs, the door at the bottom opened revealing a very pissed Hermes and distressed Apollo. Curse godly teleportation.

Hermes turned to Apollo. “Wanna do some explaining?” he asked sarcastically, observing my white dress. I just backed away, giving them space to come up the stairs. “Seriously, man. She could be killed because you married her and brought her here without permission,” Hermes explained as they walked up the stairs.

“But no one else is going to know because you’re not gonna tell them,” Apollo said, getting in between me and Hermes. “Right?”

He sighed. “Hi Y/N, congrats on getting married,” he finally greeted me.

“Thanks,” I answered hesitantly.

“Why is she even here?” he asked Apollo.

“Well, we were supposed to go talk to Zeus but I’m working the courage back up,” he laughed awkwardly. Hermes gave him an unamused look. “What? I’ve been single for millennia and then I’m just going to go up to father like ‘Hey, I finally decided to get married. By the way, it’s to a half-blood can you make her immortal too?’”

“So why is she still here?”

“Well Chiron has almost walked in on us having se- OW!” I cut him off with a pinch to his side. “What?” he asked, turning to me.

I could feel the heat rushing to my face now. “Shut up,” I chided him.

“Hermes of all people gets it!” he insisted, slinging an arm around my shoulders. “You can’t honestly say you’ve never brought a girl to Olympus. Like Penelope? Pan’s mother. Because Odysseus would’ve tried to murder you had he walked in on you two.”

“That’s different!” Hermes insisted.

“How?”

Hermes tried to think of an answer for a few minutes before he gave up. “Fine, whatever. But either get her back to camp or tell Zeus what’s going on before anyone else can get their hands on her.” He left no room for argument because he quite literally disappeared in a flash of light that second. Thankfully Apollo had the foresight to cover my eyes for me because Hermes had turned into a ball of light before I could react.

My husband sighed as he looked down at me. “I guess I should return you, huh? I’m sorry I just can’t face Zeus today.”

I smiled softly at him. Truthfully I was in no rush for immortality. I wasn’t quite ready to leave my life behind either way but when Apollo burst into my bedroom declaring that today was the day, I just went with it. Reaching a hand up to cup his jaw I leaned up to kiss him. “Whatever you want, you’re the one who has to take responsibility,” I reasoned.

“Thank you,” he murmured, capturing my lips. “Do you think you can be missing for just a couple more hours?” he asked, pulling away from me.

“Probably,” I agreed. He was immediately scooping my legs up before dropping me onto the bed.

My new husband spent the entire night drawing orgasms out of me until I finally got him to stop. That was the thing about gods, sometimes they didn’t know when to stop because they didn’t always understand human limitations.

I was still breathing heavily from my last peak when I fell asleep on Apollo’s chest, so exhausted.

Despite the fact that the sun was down, Apollo could still see his new wife clearly through the moonlight streaming through the glass ceiling. He had laid there for hours, admiring her relaxed features and reveling in the touch of her skin on his. It was nearly five o’ clock and he’d have to get up soon. As nice and sunny as summer was, he hated having to get up so early to get the sun chariot ready.

He gently stroked the hair away from her face, pressing the lightest kiss against her forehead so as not to disturb her. Sitting up, he rearranged the pillows and blankets to cover her before sliding off the bed. He threw on some clothes, leaving a t-shirt for his wife when she woke up before disappearing to the moors of England. Humans thought the sun was always going around the world in a circle but for the west, the sun began in England because that’s where the dividing line fell between the east and the west.

Setting up the sun chariot to do it’s course, Apollo set it off, watching it crest up in the sky like every day. Before he could turn to leave he sensed a new presence behind him. Turning, he found a very smug looking Ares. Trying to play it cool, Apollo smiled. “What are you doing here, brother?”

“I heard about a missing camper,” Ares began. “And then Aphrodite told me about a certain marriage certificate. Filed both on Earth and Mount Olympus.” Apollo cursed internally, that wasn’t supposed to be sent to Olympus for another week. The one time bureaucracy was efficient.

“Ares…” he began, intending to work out some sort of deal but the god of war interrupted him.

“I don’t know where you’re keeping her but until she’s immortal, she’s fair game to kill.”

“You really wanna piss off Demeter like that?” Apollo challenged, hoping her mother could provide her a little protection if he couldn’t.

Ares shrugged. “She has plenty of other children. And it’s not like I’m killing Persephone.” Demeter’s first daughter truly was the apple of her eye. She loved her demigod children but she’d get over their deaths. “Should’ve thought about this before you decided to put an arrow through me in 1918,” Ares sneered.

“That was like a hundred years ago!” Apollo insisted. “Don’t put her in the middle of this. She didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Should’ve thought about the consequences of your actions before you fell in love with a demigod,” the god of war taunted before disappearing in a flash of light.

The sun god let out an enraged grunt before transporting to his house. He practically ripped open the curtains surround the bed to make sure his bride was still there. He let out the biggest sigh of relief seeing her still laying there, unharmed. But now she was stirring due to the sudden light flooding her eyes.

I groaned as the sun hit my eyes and a body came to lay next to me. “I’m sorry,” Apollo said, crawling into his spot next to me. “I really wish you could go back to sleep but you need to be back at camp now,” he said. I could now hear the urgency in his voice as I opened my eyes.

“Why? What happened?” I asked, sitting up.

“Look, I uh- may not have thought this marriage all the way through,” he said nervously, handing me a shirt.

My heart dropped and pain flooded my body. “What?” I asked. I cursed myself, I knew it was too good to be true. I thought that after seeing each other for five years he was being honest about wanting to marry me. But I guess five years to an immortal god is the equivalent to a week for a human.

Apollo turned, finding my hurt expression. “No!” he immediately tried to clear up. “No it’s the fact that you’re in danger now. I don’t regret you. I’m so happy you’re my wife now and that you will be forever. I just didn’t think about the other gods’ reactions.”

“Oh,” I said quietly, relief washing over me.

“I could never regret you,” he said, coming over to sit beside me. “I love you. So much,” he swore, pressing me into his chest.

“Is this about Ares?” I asked. He suddenly froze. “I overheard you and Hermes downstairs,” I explained.

“Yes, but I swear to you nothing’s gonna happen to you. You just have to stay at camp. Ares won’t harm you if you’re in Dionysus’ territory,” he said urgently. If his grave tone was any indication, I was in serious danger. “I’m gonna talk to Zeus. We’re already married and I consulted the Fates when I met you so he’ll probably approve your immortality,” he rushed out, handing me shorts to throw on.

I was at a complete loss of what to say so I said the only thing I could think of. “Okay, I trust you.”

He smiled, lightly grasping either side of my jaw. “We have to go. I’m gonna transport with you just outside of camp. The other campers won’t be able to see me but you’re gonna say you snuck out to visit your dad because you were… I don’t know… having a hard time being the only adult at camp?” he suggested.

I nodded, grasping his hand. Immediately we were standing on the side of a familiar rural road. I looked up at the hill in front of me, just over it was Camp Half-Blood. Turning, I found nothing next to me but Apollo’s hand still intertwined in mine was proof he was still there.

He untangled his fingers from mine and gave me a gentle push on my back to encourage me to walk. I did so hesitantly, slowly walking up the hill. As I spotted the gates of camp. Stood on either side of the arch, were two campers in full battle armor. I could hear an indistinct yell as I approached. Probably alerting Chiron to my reemerged presence.

When I finally reached the “safety” of camp I could sense that Apollo was gone. He had kept a few paces behind me but disappeared once I got past Thalia’s former tree. Meanwhile, there was a new threat currently facing me as both Chiron and Mr. D stared down at me disapprovingly. They so rarely agreed with each other and Mr. D so rarely even bothered to pay attention to us that I knew I was in deep shit. “Y/N,” Chiron said like he was scolding his 16 year old daughter, “come with me.” He turned, trotting away as I followed after him like this was a walk of shame. Dionysus just disappeared.

Once I finally reached the Big House, I spotted Mr. D and a woman in the room. She radiated warmth and life despite the rage coming off of her. “Mother?” I asked.

“How could you!” she immediately yelled. “You were seeing a god behind everyone’s back? Not just any god, Apollo,” she spat angrily. “And then next I hear you’re married to him?” she asked in disbelief. “Y/N, do you know what you’ve gotten yourself into? I’ve already lost one daughter to a god. I won’t lose another one.”

Had I not been speaking to a goddess I would’ve lashed out at her. It’s not like she was ever really there for me. How can you lose someone you’ve never been there for? “You’re not gonna lose me,” I insisted, biting my tongue. “You haven’t lost Persephone either, she’s only in the Underworld for a few months. I will be on Olympus with you.”

“Locked in Apollo’s morally depraved sex mansion,” she spat, clearly upset. My jaw nearly dropped, I was so shocked she actually said that.

“Demeter, as valid as your worries are,” Dionysus reluctantly said, “there is the more pressing matter of Ares trying to murder your daughter. And he’ll keep trying until Zeus grants her immortality.”

“Are those boys still fighting about the arrow in 1918?” Demeter demanded.

“Wait, Ares wants to kill me because Apollo shot him?” I asked.

“Yes, it was an accident but Ares never forgot. Especially because it allowed the Allied powers to win. At the time, Ares was kind of betting on Germany to be the next big thing but then when the Allies all blamed it on Germany, Ares wasn’t happy.” Chiron clarified. “And he wants to destroy Apollo’s happiness in revenge.”

“I don’t want you seeing him,” my mother suddenly demanded, still hyper-focused on the wrong topic. Even Chiron and Mr. D rolled their eyes at that. “He’s a no good playboy.”

“We’re already married. I’m not gonna just stop seeing him. And I knew what I was getting myself into. I made sure he actually wanted a relationship with me before I got attached.”

“Oh please-”

“He married me, didn’t he?” I interrupted.

“Demeter, if it’s any consolation he does seem to genuinely be in love with her,” Chiron defended me. “Apollo has never married in all the millenniums he’s lived. He has finally settled down.”

She looked reluctant to accept his argument but didn’t say anything else.

“S-so what do I do now that Ares wants to kill me?” I asked. “Apollo said that he wouldn’t touch me under your protection,” I looked at Mr. D.

The god of wine still looked reluctant to participate in all this. “Well technically camp belongs to all the gods and I cannot ensure your safety. Besides, Ares has never minded breaking a few rules of war. I’ll have to bring you to a more secure place whilst Apollo tries to convince Zeus.”

Demeter sighed. “I will go help him too but after you are immortalized we are discussing your living arrangement,” she said with a stern finger. Before I could reluctantly agree she was gone.

“Come,” Chiron said with a hand on my back. “You must pack only your essentials. Then Dionysus will take you to the convent you’ll be staying at.”

“Convent?” I asked, stopping in my tracks.

“Well, I am the god of cults,” Mr. D reasoned from behind me. “I have a few of my followers there but enough real nuns to disguise you. You’ll be safe there.”

I was only at the convent for two days before I was in danger again.

I had been getting along fairly well with the other nuns. Except for one. Her name was Peggy and she seemed too friendly and was always trying to be alone with me. With this being a place that housed Dionysus’ followers I thought nothing of it until I found myself alone with her.

I had been doing my daily chores of dusting the entire convent when Peggy entered the room I was in. I thought nothing of it until I heard the lock click into place. When I turned I didn’t find the nun, I found a gorgon with a grotesque smile on her face. “Daughter of Demeter, I hadn’t expected to see you here. I heard about your little predicament.” I glanced to the open window across the room. If I could just get outside I could trap the gorgon in nature. “Poor Apollo will be so heartbroken when he realizes his bride is dead before he was even able to give her immortality.”

Grabbing a lamp, I hurled it at the monster while she was still talking. It bounced harmlessly off her, shattering but I was already throwing myself through the window. Jumping through a second story window face first probably wasn’t the best idea but I needed to get her onto the ground. As I hit the ground I felt my wrist crack but I didn’t even have time to consider it because the gorgon was bursting through the window after me. She barely missed jumping on top of me but I rolled out of her path. As she was still regaining her bearings I willed the roots of the earth to wrap around her.

Thousands of roots sprung up from the ground tangling each other and the gorgon until they secured her. Any monster worth their myth could cut through my vines but they would come so fast that the monster couldn’t keep up until they were immobilized by the earth. Once the gorgon stopped moving and had just become an unrecognizable mass of weeds, I willed them to pull her into the ground. I’m sure it was a horrific way to die, having every nutrient in your body sucked out of you from underground until you could only become a pile of ichor that would remain in the earth forever.

As soon as I sensed that her life force was gone, I allowed some vines to wrap around my wrist, using the resources of the earth to heal my broken bones. As I let out a sigh of relief at the pain subsiding, I saw a faint flash of light. Now standing a hundred feet away from me were twin brothers, each standing around six feet tall, in full Greek battle armor. I knew enough about mythology and the context of my situation to know that these were Phobos and Deimos. If they weren’t standing between me and the convent I’d try to run there for safety.

“I’m so glad that gorgon was here,” Phobos said. “If it weren’t for you using your powers we never would have found you.”

Σκατά. Well, I just took down a gorgon, I could imprison these two. I let the earth crawl up their shins but they both just looked at each other with smiles before bursting into flames. Their explosion was so violent it threw me back a few feet.

I let out a groan as pain exploded in my body. Peeling open my eyes, I found the earth underneath their feet scorched and they were laughing. I tried to grow vines around myself to pull me into the earth as protection but a blade was suddenly cutting through them and I was being pulled up by my guimpe. Curse these stupid nun outfits.

“Wait, wait, please,” I begged.

“Too bad for you we don’t get to kill you,” Deimos taunted in my face, still holding me by the guimpe. “Ares is gonna torture you to death and send the footage to your husband.”

I did the only thing I could think of. I spat in his face.

“Ew!” he yelled, dropping me to the ground. I wasted no time tearing off into the woods, barely paying attention to Phobos berating his twin.

I continued on, tearing through the woods to get far enough. Seeing a flash of light, I turned the other way, trying to escape Phobos and Deimos long enough so I could hide. “Y/N!” I heard a familiar yell but I didn’t bother to stop. For all I knew, that was one of the twins playing tricks on me.

As I tried to jump over a branch my skirt got caught, sending me to the ground with a crash. Again, curse these nun outfits. Before I could get up though, there was a weight on me. I immediately began screaming and thrashing, assuming it was either Phobos or Deimos but two hands on my face made me look straight ahead. I calmed down realizing it was Apollo currently sitting on top of me.

“Hey, hey, you’re safe,” he assured me. “It’s just me.” As I started calming down, he pulled the veil off my head. “There we go,” he soothed, pulling me up from the ground. As he was still trying to calm me down, Phobos and Deimos appeared behind him. He whirled around, pushing my body behind his. “Zeus granted her immortality. She is under his protection!”

“What we don’t know can’t be held against us,” Phobos laughed.

But before he could do anything, I found myself in a new place. Olympus, I recognized it. Staring up in awe at all the thrones and the magnificent room made of marble. Eleven gods sat around me, including Ares. A completely golden throne that seemed to shimmer was empty.

I looked around, ensuring my head was bowed to all the gods—especially Ares—I finally reached Zeus, falling to my knee.

“Y/N L/N,” Zeus’ booming voice seemed to echo across the room. “You have been granted immortality by the virtue of your husband, Apollo. With the approval of myself and the fates. I hereby grant you goddess status: Y/N, goddess of healing, daughter of Demeter, and wife of Apollo.”

I don’t know what I was expecting but it was as if an unknown burden I didn’t know I had was lifted.

I stood, unsure what to do but all of a sudden a force was hitting me. As Apollo wrapped his arms around me I knew he had been what knocked into me. “My wife’s a goddess!” he yelled, still hugging me, much to the amusement of the other Olympians.

A/N I'm gonna be so fucking fr I had no plot going into this I just wanted to write about Apollo so if anyone has any suggestions or requests of a part 2 that ends this better I'm happy to write them

Masterlist | Part 2

#apollo #apollo x reader #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo #pjo x reader #pjo series #pjo tv show #greek gods #greek god x reader #myths #mythology #greek mythology #greek mythology x reader #sun #sun god #sun god x reader #x reader

1K notes · View notes

hometoursandotherstuff · 2 months ago

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Oh, what a shame. This historic 1894 Victorian grey stone in Chicago, IL was the residence of Charles Washington, Chicago's first Black mayor. It's in the Bronzeville section and needs a lot of work. Someone bought the elegant 7bd, 5ba, 5,100 home and now realizes how much it will take to restore, so the owner put it on the market for $685k. We HOPE that someone doesn't buy it and do a cheap, modern, white & gray reno. You have to see how beautiful the architecture is.

In the entrance, the beautiful hall stand, wainscoting and railings with the bronze-topped newel post are all intact. There's also original tile and an old brass heat register. I also love the mural.

Gorgeous wall in the sitting room. The shelving is magnificent and look at the fireplace and mirror. Also looks like there were some lovely antique pieces that came with the house.

In this room there are pocket doors and that beautiful wood mirror.

The dining room is incredible, from the massive fireplace, to the wainscoting, and spectacular China cabinet. I wouldn't touch the wallpaper, either. Love it.

I don't know if the floors can be saved. There's water damage in this room.

The owner is in the middle of working in the kitchen. It looks like he intended to keep the outdated remodel.

The wall was tiled, but I don't know if it was original. The doors are definitely original and the staff stairs are still there.

I really wouldn't want to save those cabinets, but it would cost so much to replace them.

This looks like a bedroom. There must've been a bad roof leak and the fireplace has been blocked off. The mirror looks okay, though.

Well, there's definitely an original tub in here. Look at how long it is. I'm thinking that the mirror is also original. Maybe the sink is, too.

A round room with a beautiful built-in hutch.

There's also a built-in armoire.

The home has so many built-ins.

Looks like that door opens to a bathroom.

It looks like they started peeling linoleum off the floor and found wood underneath.

Somebody got creative in this bath. But, it has another original tub and also a vintage sink. That toilet is looking pretty old, too.

Someone paneled this bedroom.

This room has a lot of damage.

Looks like the basement ceiling is charred.

These must be functional.

Looks like a basement room.

And, in here they have laundry and a utility sink. I hope that someone buys and restores it. There's so much that's left of the original architecture.

10,000 sq ft lot.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/3936-S-King-Dr-Chicago-IL-60653/2070846420_zpid/

#fixer uppers #victorian fixer upper #historic homes #houses #house tours #home tour

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hazbinshusk · 3 months ago

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huskerdust x gn!reader. after a particularly rough day recruiting for the hotel, you limp back to your room to find your two favourite boys waiting for you. anon request. 1.7k

featuring: some blood, physical hurt/comfort, cuddles. really, it's just pure fluff.

Hell can seriously suck a dick sometimes.

You shove the door to the Hotel open with tired arms, for once actually finding yourself wishing that the wall had once again been blown up, if it meant less effort getting home. Charlie had had you pounding pavement all day, trying and failing to enlist new guests to the hotel. Even after the failed extermination, most of the sinners in Pride were less than welcoming to the idea of improving themselves. You spent half the day being told to fuck off and having doors slammed in your face, and the other half actively avoiding being the victim of some asshole’s wrath or lust.

You wipe sweat and ash from your brow with the brow with a sleeve, pausing by the bar to take the weight of your knee. You’d managed to trip while trying to escape a sudden firefight in the Doomsday District, and every step back to the hotel had sent pain shooting up your leg. Your pants were torn and blood has dried in itchy streaks down your calf.

The bartender is nowhere in sight, and you fish your phone out of your pocket to text Angel, sighing when you notice the screen now has a crack spiderwebbing up from the corner of it. Still, a small smile twitches at your lips briefly when you notice he texted you an hour earlier. It’s short and sweet, and your smile widens tiredly.

It was a habit the two of you had picked up since you’d fallen into this relationship with him and Husk; when two of you had turned in for the night, one of you would text to let their other partner know which room they had ended up in. Usually, it was you texting Angel when a shoot ran long, but it had been a rare day off for the porn star and apparently the lack of clientele had meant Husk had been able to clock off early, too.

The lack of a cat emoji said they were spending quality time with Fat Nuggets in Angel’s room, and you thanked Lucifer silently that he’d installed an elevator during the remodel.

You sigh at the idea of having to keep moving rather than just collapsing onto the nearest horizontal surface, limping around the bar to wrap a handful of ice in a towel before making your way to the elevator.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“Hey, gorgeous, ‘bout time you got—” Angel sits up from where he was lounging across his bed, concern creasing his brow as he takes in your dishevelled appearance. The sudden movement unsettles the two curled up on top of him – while Fat Nuggets snuffles in a mix of both protest and greeting as he waddles across the comforter, Husk looks up with a quiet ‘mrrp?’. He had been stretched out alongside Angel, his arms wrapped around the spider’s midsection and his chin resting against his chest. Angel’s hand still lingers where it had been stroking through the fur between the bartender’s ears, and you feel a small pang of regret for interrupting the tableau. “What in the fuck happened to you?”

“Hell happened,” you reply dryly, wincing as you put a little too much pressure on your knee. Husk blinks sleep out of his eyes and his expression immediately becomes marred with worry. He pushes himself up of Angel just as you move to collapse onto the stool in front of Angel’s vanity, ignoring the ache that protests in the small of his back as he comes to your side. You grimace as you stretch out your leg in front of you, and Angel rolls over to fish the first aid kit out from under his bed. “I’m fine.”

“You’re bleeding,” Husk points out gruffly, kneeling beside you. He carefully hooks a claw in the tear in your pants and tears it wider, his brow furrowing further as he reveals the dried blood staining your calf.

“Am I?” you say, sarcasm weak. “I hadn’t noticed.”

Husk fixes you with a dry, exasperated look from under his feather brows as Angel joins the two of you. “Who did it?”

“No one.” You hiss as Angel begins to clean you up, the saline stinging at the abrasion on your knee.

A low growl rumbles warningly through Husk. “Doll…”

You reach out, cupping his face in your hand. You stroke your thumb through the fur of his cheek soothingly. His frown doesn’t ease, but his eyes close for a moment at the touch. “I’m serious. I fell, that’s all.”

“Jesus, toots.” Angel says through an exhale, carefully scrubbing away the blood streaked over your calf. His other hands rummage through the kit for disinfectant and a bandage. “Was it down a flight of stairs by any chance?”

You shake your head, smirking lightly. “Doomsday District; the ground there is like, ninety percent broken glass. Pretty sure I got it all out.”

“The Princess shouldn’t be sendin’ you out there alone,” Husk grumbles, using a piece of saline-soaked gauze to wipe away the remaining ash on your face. You wrinkle your nose as the material tickles at your nose. “It ain’t your job to—”

“Husk, I’m fine.” you assure him. You lean forward to press a kiss to his nose, and Husk’s shoulders rise and fall with a sigh. “I’m home.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“Better?”

You smile, running your fingers rhythmically through Angel’s hair. “Much.”

The three of you are curled up on Angel’s bed, ice melting against your knee and all three of you cradled amongst his many, many pillows and blankets. Husk is propped up against the pillows by the headboard, his arm wrapped securely around your shoulders. You’re tucked up against him, your shoulder against his chest, and your face tilted up to tuck up against his jaw. His purring vibrates through his back, but some of his earlier frustration still lingers in the twitching of his tail. His lips brush against your forehead gently.

Angel is curled up against your side, his head on your chest and two arms wrapped around you. Another reaches up to stroke through the fur of Husk’s side, the fourth resting on the back of the little hell-piglet curled in a ball on Husk’s thigh beside your hip. His legs are bent to tuck up under yours, hooking your knees over his thighs to keep your injury elevated. Every part of you seems to be pressed against soft, soft fur, and you arch your neck further to press your lips to the underside of Husk’s jaw. His purring grows louder.

“Plus side?” Angel comments, looking up at the two of you without raising his cheek from your chest. “Charlie is gonna feel so bad ‘bout sendin’ ya out there—”

“She fuckin’ should,” Husk interjects in a grumble. You sooth him by reaching down to card fingers through his fur, and when your fingers find Angel’s hand, the spider entangles them with his and squeezes. He might be talking more lightly about your current state than Husk, but you knew he was worried, too. You squeeze it back.

“—that there is no way ya gonna be on recruitment duty for, like, a month.” Angel continues. “Ya can jus’ live the high life here. Ya milk that knee jus’ right an’ she probably won’t even make ya go to group. Lucky bitch.”

You hum a laugh, shivering at the way Husk’s claws skim pleasantly against the bare skin of your arm. “And does this ‘high life’ by any chance involve some serious naked time?”

Angel giggles, reaching releasing your waist to reach down and run teasing fingers over the front of Husk’s pants. “Depends. Think the old man here can keep up?”

Husk swats his hand away, and you catch the amused smile that touches his lips for a moment before he remembers to scowl. “Never heard you complain.”

“Maybe you should turn your hearing aid up,” Angel suggests tauntingly, and you choke on a laugh when Husk reaches over you and shoves him off the bed. “Hey! Ow!”

Husk grins, winking at you as Angel stands, all four hands on his hips and a pout on his face. Careful not to jostle you, Husk leans over and grabs a hold of the front of the spider’s shirt, pulling him down into a kiss. Angel wraps two arms around his neck, the other two smoothing over the bartender’s chest. He finds a nipple and pinches, hard, and Husk breaks away with a surprised growl.

“Fuck!”

“Hey!” you object as the movement jostles you further. You rescue Nuggets from the fray, setting him down on the end of the bed. “Watch the invalid, would you? Some of us are injured here!”

Husk immediately stops, his expression apologetic. He catches your cheek, dusting kisses over your face before he presses his lips to yours. You hum happily, feel Angel climb into the bed beside you. He curls up behind you, pressing himself up against your back. Husk kisses you for a few moments more before he pulls away, touching his lips to the skin between your brows. “Sorry, doll.”

“He’s a goddamn brute,” Angel says, tucking his head over your shoulder. “You should totally kick his ass.”

You giggle, and Husk silences him by kissing him again. When they break apart, Husk pulls you into his chest, wrapping an arm around you. His wing curves to cover the three of you, and you bury your face contentedly in the soft fur of his chest.

#huskerdust #huskerdust x reader #my fic #huskerdust fic #husk x reader #angel dust x reader #qpr angel dust x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel angel dust #husk hazbin hotel #husk #angel dust #hazbin husk x reader #husk x you #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin angel dust

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cupidlived · 2 months ago

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Ride That Wave | 01

summary — After a reckless night changes the entire sphere of your life, your parents send you to live with your aunt in North Carolina. In a setting far from your old, glittering life, you’re left to confront your guilt and the secrets you’ve been running from. Things seem like they’re going uphill after your aunt’s pool boy, JJ, helps you settle in, but will you be able to keep yourself from slipping into your bad habits?

pairing — kook!reader x jj maybank

content — slow burn, strangers to friends to lovers

Aunt Vick is more excited to see you than you ever expected her to be.

"My girls!" she shouts, her voice bright and high, as if she hadn’t just torn herself away from a Southern Living magazine on the swing bench. The magazine flutters to the wooden steps, forgotten.

"Hi, Vick," your mother sighs, her words more tired than affectionate as her sister sweeps her into a tight hug. The Southern twang in your mom’s voice starts to emerge, partially unmasked after years of living in Manhattan. "Thanks for watchin' her. We'll have her back by December at the latest."

Vick grins at you over your mom’s shoulder, her eyes mischievous. She was the last person your mom would have chosen for you to stay with, and everyone knew it. But after your grandparents died, and your father, an only child, had no siblings to lean on, Vick was the only choice.

As your mother and aunt exchange pleasantries, you stand off to the side, your father’s arm wrapped around you like a safety net. He’s always seen you as his angel, even when your actions had been anything but. Now, though, the illusion is shattered, and there’s nothing left for him to say. "Please, be good," he implores, his voice a whisper full of desperation. "I'd love to have you back by the fall."

You don’t mention that your mother said you would be home in December — you know that if he’s aware of her plan, he’ll only lose the inevitable fight to have you back earlier, and you’d be at risk of not being home until the new year. You just let yourself breathe him in, feeling the warmth of his embrace as the finality of it all settles. If he’s right, fall is only three months away. You can survive that, you’ve been through worse.

When it’s time for your mother to say goodbye, there’s an awkward tension that you can’t shake. The last few months have strained your bond, and the guilt is like a heavy stone in your chest. It’s no secret that in the last year you’ve continued to disappoint her more and more. You brace yourself for something cold—a handshake, maybe, something transactional. But instead, she surprises you, her arms opening to pull you close.

The scent of her perfume, gentle and familiar, envelops you as her hand gently strokes your cheek, like it used to when you were little. "You know that all I’ve ever wanted for you was the very best," she whispers, her voice tender, but filled with the weight of the unsaid truth. The unspoken frustration that you won’t let her give you the world.

You nod, pressing your cheek into her palm. The warmth of her touch is a fleeting comfort.

"You've got to want it too, my love," she says softly, and then she pulls away, her gaze lingering just a moment longer before she steps back.

As they climb into the rental car, your mother behind the wheel, your father wipes away tears that are already halfway down his swollen face. The car drives off, its soft grey outline fading into the distance, leaving behind a silence that feels permanent — there’s no going back now. When their flight lands, Vick is supposed to be updating them on your every move, a constant presence in your life, whether you want it or not.

Vick breaks the silence first, as if she can't stand it anymore. "Well, kid. Lemme show you around." She grabs one of your duffels off the brick walkway and heads toward the front door. "Things are a little different after the remodel, so make sure you pay attention."

—

The first few days on Figure 8 pass in a blur of isolation. You’ve spent most of your time holed up in your bedroom, too embarrassed to face the world—or anyone. The silence here is deafening, and the loneliness gnaws at you in ways you never imagined. You’ve reached out to friends from home, of course, but no one is responding. Not that you can blame them. After the mess you made, it feels like you've been shut out for good.

Vick’s attempts to lure you out of your self-imposed exile are relentless. She whispers promises of Pink Whitney and trashy movies. The mention of alcohol makes it clear that she hasn’t quite caught wind of your fall from grace in Manhattan.

By the fifth day, Vick’s patience is wearing thin. It’s 10 a.m. and you’ve barely stirred from your bed, except to push around the plate of French toast she made you earlier. The dining room, pristine in white, feels foreign—an eerily quiet reminder of the last time you were here, more than a decade ago. Back then, your grandparents had been alive, and Vick was 18 and fully ready to leave the nest.

Now, everything has changed. The dining room, once coastal and cluttered with shells and driftwood, is sleek and minimalist. Your aunt inherited the house after your grandparents died, and she had transformed it into something entirely different. "I'm sick of the old coastal asshole look," she had said when the renovations started. "I see those all the time in the houses I list. Gimme class. Gimme modernity." The only thing that remained unchanged was the antique dining table, solid oak, polished to perfection.

Your plate sits facing the newly finished backyard, Vick’s pride and joy. She’d been texting you and your parents updates about the remodel, sending pictures of the work as it progressed, but you hadn’t really paid attention.

The silence between you and Vick stretches on, thick and heavy. She’s practically bouncing in her seat, eyes wide with impatience, waiting for you to speak. But you don’t. And she doesn’t either.

"So..." Vick finally breaks, her voice soft but teasing. "What’d you do?" Her smile is crooked, giving it a boyish charm. "You know you can tell me. I used to be pretty wild back in my day."

You raise an eyebrow, offering nothing but a half-shrug in response. If you're the only one on the island who knows the full story, you'd rather keep it that way.

Vick huffs, clearly starting to lose her patience. "Come on, spill it. Did you kill somebody? Have a pregnancy scare?"

"No!" You almost laugh, though it sounds hollow. You fiddle with your fork, taking a quick glance of the backyard. At this point, anything is better than entertaining Vick’s curiosity. A guy is out there, netting leaves from the willow tree and fishing them out of the infinity pool. You don’t want to talk about it. Not yet, at least.

Vick’s gaze follows your line of sight, and her smile widens. Just like that, her previous line of questioning vanishes into thin air. "See something you like?" she teases, her tone full of mischief.

The sun has crept high, beating down on anyone caught in its rays. This guy? No shirt, sweat glistening on his bronzed skin as he hauls the net over his shoulder, muscles flexing in a way that makes you feel suddenly very aware of your own discomfort.

"Yeah, pretty cute," you offer, trying to sound casual, though you’re sure your voice betrays you. 'Cute' doesn’t even come close. But you’ve sworn off boys until at least a year into college. So you force your attention elsewhere. Your syrup has congealed into a thin skin, and you twirl your fork in it absently, trying to focus on anything but the man in the backyard.

Just as you do, you notice the way his eyes flick to you through the glass door, the briefest glance that sends a flush rushing to your cheeks.

Vick leans in with a grin that says she knows exactly what you’re thinking. "That’s JJ, my new pool boy. He’s your age, I’m guessing." Her eyes dance with amusement, clearly relishing in your sudden discomfort. "I could totally set you up, if you want."

You shake your head quickly, your heart picking up speed. "No," you mutter, hoping JJ didn’t realize you’d been staring. "I’ve got bigger things to worry about right now." You push the plate of untouched food aside, suddenly realizing how childish you must look, poking at your breakfast like a kid.

Vick laughs and grabs your plate, tossing the food into the trash. “Oh, I love some forbidden action," she teases, nudging you with her shoulder. "Besides, romance isn’t dead, kid."

You can’t help but roll your eyes, though part of you wonders if she’s right.

thank you for all of the support on the intro 🥹 sooo excited to be writing again & i’ll likely be making a separate blog so i can interact w everyone 🫶🏽

#rtw #obx fic #obx fanfiction #obx x reader #jj obx #jj maybank fic #jj x reader #jj maybank x reader #x reader #x you #slow burn #fanfic #outer banks fic #outer banks #outer banks x reader #jj maybank

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lycheeloving · 1 year ago

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a concept I've been rotating in my head for a really long time now is an AU where the entire Justice League is yandere... with multiverse stuff, because I'm still me <3

They have some sort of machine in the Watchtower that can be used to contact and monitor other universes and even open portals, they've been in contact with a bunch of other Justice Leagues and help each other out in case of extreme emergencies.

However, they all spend a lot of time at the machine doing things unrelated to what it's supposed to be used for. They each watch a different civilian in a different universe, are basically obsessed with them, you could even say they're stalking them... They all try to do this secretly, as they're aware that this isn't exactly behavior that's seen as normal and healthy (and morally sound). Some of them are more successful at hiding it than others.

I imagine Batman would be the first to connect the dots that they're all obsessed with someone, gather evidence of everyone doing this, call everyone to a meeting and confront them with said evidence, only to then reveal that he's been doing the same thing...

And then he suggests bringing their obsessions here, as this behavior has caused them all to be distracted and get worse at their Justice League business, but if their darlings were here, they would no longer have to worry if they were safe or not! Additionally, as they're all from different universes, nobody would think to accuse the Justice League of this universe to be responsible for the kidnappings, nobody would be able to even connect the dots that the kidnappings are related! Batman tries to make it seem like he's suggesting this because he's worried about their performance, and not because he wants to get his darling closer to him, close enough to finally touch.

Everyone eagerly agrees, of course (after getting over the embarrassment of "Oh shit, Batman saw me stalking someone"). After some preparations, like choosing and remodeling rooms so the objects of their affections will hopefully feel comfortable being kept there (well, as comfortable as possible, considering the circumstances), they all work together to discreetly relocate all of their darlings from their original universes to their new home, the Watchtower in this universe.

Each darling gets their own room (that they share with their yandere, of course), but there's also rooms that are accessible to all of them, like a living room, a kitchen, etc, so they don't have to be alone when their yandere is out on patrol.

Everyone in the League tries to justify it to themselves by repeating how they're helping so many people, they've never asked for anything in return, they deserve this, but subconsciously they're all aware that what they're doing is not ok, they just don't care enough about that to stop. It's too late for that now anyways, their darlings are already here, they can't just return them!

I want to write something about what it's like to be the darling of the different members of the league at some point (and about the darlings escaping], but that might take a while, we'll see. Feel free to suggest Justice League members I should include though, I haven't quite decided about who exactly I want to be involved in this AU (other than the obvious Batman, Superman and Wonder Woman. and probably Flash)

I've already written for: Batman, Wonder Woman, Green Lantern, Superman

date night

flirting / threesome with a different hero

#yandere dc #yandere justice league #yandere Batman #dc x reader #justice league x reader #batman x reader #x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #reader insert #lycheewritings #yandere superman #yandere wonder woman

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gyeomsweetgyeom · 1 year ago

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[2:17 pm]

This was supposed to be a quick trip. You needed some new pillows, a new plant, and Mark was really just along for the ride. He was in it for some Swedish meatballs, a slide of chocolate cake, and fruit flavored sparkling water. But somewhere in the time from the entrance to about the eighth showroom, you forgot about what you needed.

"I think this one is nice, but the paint on the walls makes the room feel too small," Mark hummed.

"Since when are you an interior decorator?" You asked with your arms crossed while you surveyed the room.

Mark laughed and you both moved onto the next showroom, a kitchen.

"This is nice! I like this island here and the gas stove," Mark mumbled to himself. He walked around the space, dragging his hands over the surfaces while he looked at the lighting fixtures.

He walked over to the stove and lifted the lid from the pot. He grabbed a wooden spoon from the wall and turned to you with a bright smile, "Oh good! You're finally home, honey. I was just starting on dinner. How does spaghetti sound?"

Despite the nagging voice in the back of your head telling you this was supposed to be a 'quick trip,' you played along. You walked over to him and pecked his cheek, "it smelled delicious. I had such a long day. It feels great to be off my feet."

You slumped into a stool at the island. Mark pulled open cabinets and pretended to shake things into the pot, "long day at the office?"

"The longest! Stupid Becky from HR was such a pain today. Honestly, she never shuts up! But anyway, how was your day, babe?"

Mark giggled, turning to you while holding the pot with both hands, "Not as long as yours, but long enough that I don't want to dirty any bowls. Let's eat."

You both pretended to twirl your forks in the pot, slurping up noodles and giggling at each other each time you made eye contact.

"It's the last noodle," you said in an amazed voice.

"Lady and the Tramp it!" Mark pretended to slurp up the noodle with puckered lips while you did the same.

You slowly moved toward each other until your lips finally touched. The kiss was short and sweet, a kiss that quickly turned to you both laughing with your foreheads pressed together and the tips of your noses touching.

"Thanks for making dinner," you smiled brightly.

Mark shrugged, "it was nothing fancy, anything to make you happy, honey." A loud grumble sounded from his stomach, "Hey my pretend spaghetti was good, but now I need some real food."

"I need my pillows first!" You exclaimed.

You both left the kitchen, hand in hand. "I actually really liked that island, maybe we could remodel the kitchen," Mark told you while you made your way over to the bedding area.

"Maybe we can just try a rolling island cart to see if we like it," you grabbed two pillows and put them under your arm, "time for real food?"

"Please, I need some lingonberry soda!" Mark cheered.

#kpop imagines #kpop au #kpop scenarios #kpop reactions #nct #nct imagines #nct fluff #nct timestamps #nct x reader #nct dream #nct dream imagines #nct dream fluff #mark lee imagines #mark lee fluff #mark lee x reader #mark lee scenarios #mark lee blurbs #mark lee timestamps

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fandomunite2107 · 1 year ago

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Meeting Carmy

Meeting Carmy at a family party that he was hired to cater.

Finding a hiding spot at this anniversary party was not as easy as you thought. There were people in almost every room with drinks in their hands, all catching up with family that they haven’t seen since in a while. With it being January, it was too cold outside to stand on the patio, though hypothermia isn’t looking too bad at the moment. You love your family, you really do, it’s just after hearing Uncle Billy’s fishing stories for the third time and your great aunt trying to match you up with everyone she knows, it’s a been a bit much. Work today wasn’t bad, but dealing with teenagers is draining on anyone, and rushing to get ready and coming to this party makes for a long day. You at least look nice for the party tonight. You had just enough time to do your hair and find matching shoes and jewelry for your outfit.

Finally, you’re able to break away from your cousin telling you about her newest remodeling project at home and are able to make your way into the kitchen. The door swings close and for a moment it’s silent. You can still make out the voices from down the hall, and from the sounds of it it seems like Uncle Billy found someone else to tell that fishing story too. Walking around the kitchen island you look out the window over the sink to see that snow has started to fall outside. You set your drink that you have been carrying down on the counter and take a deep breath.

“Yo. Watch where you’re going.” The door to the kitchen swings open. Really needing some quiet time and not wanting to talk to anyone at the moment you slip down the island onto the floor, hoping that no one sees you and disturbs the moment of peace that you found.

“What the hell? Is uh there a reason that you’re on the floor ?”

Looking up, you see a man in a chef’s uniform, realizing that he is a part of the catering staff that was hired for this party.

“I needed a break from that,” Waving your hand in the general direction of the noise. “Am I in the way? I’m sure there must be some room in the pantry if I move some things if you need me to.”

“Nah, um it’s fine for now.”

“Y/N! Are you in here?” Hearing your great aunt coming into the kitchen, you try to motion to the chef that you are indeed not here at the moment.

“Oh. Hello young man. Have you seen my niece? Her name is y/n. She’s about this tall. Wearing a dress.” My aunt directs these questions to the chef.

The man slides his eyes down to you before he shakes his head. “Ah. No ma’am, I haven’t.”

You smile and relax a bit on the floor. Looking up to the man you take in his appearance, realizing that this man is so much more than attractive.

“Oh, well. If you do could you tell her that I gave her number to one of the young men at my church who is single. She should be getting a call from him soon.” You bite down on your bottom lip trying to stifle a groan. You love your great aunt, but really why does she always feel the need to set everyone up. “How old are you?” You shake your head as your aunt asks the question, continuing to look at the chef. “You are very handsome and you seem handy around the kitchen. You and my niece would make a nice couple. I’ll give you her number.” I hear my aunt open a drawer and shut it, moments later hearing the sound of paper tearing. “Here. You call her. You two would make beautiful babies.”

“Um, thanks?” The chef seems dazed as the door closes behind my aunt. “I. That. That was interesting.” He says as he pushes his hair back from his face.

Standing up from the floor, you turn to face the chef. “I feel like I should properly introduce myself now, especially after all that. I’m y/n.” You extend you hand out to him.

It seems as if he is trying to hold back a smirk as he reaches for your hand. “Carmen. You can call me Carmy, most people do. My restaurant was hired to cater. Your um. Your aunt is something.”

You let out a short laugh. “Yes she is. Sorry about all that. Thank you for not blowing my cover. This is all a bit embarrassing. You don’t have to keep my number.” Pointing to the paper that your aunt wrote your number on, which is lying by a cutting board.

“You don’t want me to have it?” Carmy tilts his head to the side.

Feeling heat rise to your cheeks. “What. No. I just. I. There was talk of babies and people at church. It’s a lot for anyone. I was giving you an out.” Please stop talking and making this worst you thought to yourself. Why does he have to be so good looking? It’s becoming too distracting to look at him.

“I don’t think I want an out.” Carmy says as you heart skips a beat, which now you know is actually a thing that can happen.

The door swings open to the kitchen revealing your great aunt. “Oh y/n there you are! I see you met this handsome chef. He’s handsome isn’t he y/n?”

“Oh. Ah, yes very handsome.” You say looking at Carmy, noticing a bit of a blush on his cheeks.

“I will leave you two alone. I already gave him your number y/n” My aunt nods at the paper with your number on it before she leaves through the kitchen door again.

“Oh my god. I’m sorry. This is a lot.” You cover your face with your hands, after a moment you move your fingers so that you can peek through to look at Carmy, seeing him smile at you.

The door to the kitchen opens again, this time revealing another member of what you assume is the catering company.

“Hey, Chef. Everything is looking good out there, but we’re getting low on the appetizers.” The man sets down a tray on the island and seems to realize that Carmy is not alone. “Oh, who’s this cousin?”

“Here take this tray out and refill the appetizers. I’ll start getting the rest of the trays together.” Carmy hands a well filled tray to the other chef, who exits the kitchen, but not before he gives Carmy a smirk nodding at you.

“I should get back to the party” You say as you don’t want to be in the way of him working. “It was nice to meet you Carmy”.

“Yeah. You too.” Carmy says though he’s too busy getting back to work to look up at you. You pick up your drink that you set down earlier and head to the door, looking at the chef once more before you leave to get back to the party.

The next hour or so you mingle with family members that you haven’t seen in a while. The party is nice and you do end up having a good time catching up with everyone. The food is excellent and anytime you hear someone mention the food you smile knowing that Carmy had a hand in making everything. As the party winds down, you think of heading back to the kitchen just to see him once last time, but every time you come close to doing that you chicken out thinking Carmy might find the intrusion annoying if he’s working.

After another half hour of mingling, you decide that it’s time to head home. You say your goodbyes to everyone and put your coat on before leaving the house. As you’re heading home you hear a notification come through your phone, looking down you see an unknown number had texted you. Opening up the text you see the message: Hey. It’s Carmy. Must have missed you before you left.

Smiling and feeling giddy from the message, you type out a response.

#carmy x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #bear x reader #carmy the bear #the bear #the bear hulu

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thisapplepielife · 4 months ago

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Written for @steddiesongfics.

Vigilante Shit

October Prompt: Vigilante Shit by Taylor Swift | Word Count: 7777 | Rating: E | CW: Unsafe Sex, Mildly Dubious Consent | Tags: Modern AU, Past Break-Up, Divorced, Angst, Exes-to-Lovers, Hopeful Ending, Famous Eddie, Corroded Coffin, Platonic Stobin: Ride or Die (Eddie Might Die If Robin Has Her Way, lol), Unsafe Sex, Barebacking, Hurt/Comfort, Love/Hate, Except It's All Love Underneath, Mr. Americana and the Heartbreak Prince

Also available right here on ao3.

they say looks can kill and I might try Taylor Swift, Vigilante Shit

Steve steps out of the taxi, and looks down, smoothing the lines of his shirt. Hoping it's not too wrinkled. He's left it unbuttoned one more button than would be considered decent, but nothing about today is going to end up decent, he's sure of it. The fabric is tight, midnight blue and clinging to his sides, his biceps, tailored to perfection. He made sure of it. When he looks good, he feels good. And today? He needs to at least feel good about how he looks.

He stands on the sidewalk, shrugging on the leather jacket that doesn't actually belong to him. The one with the chained up broken zipper on the sleeve. The one from before. A relic of years gone by, of kids that have been dead and buried by adulthood.

He doesn't actually need it, weather-wise. But if he's digging up bones, he might as well dig deep.

And he looks good in it, without fucking question.

Tonight he isn't dressing for women, or men. He's dressing for revenge.

The event space is old, he can tell. One of those remodeled places, salvaged from the hands of time. He's never been here before, and wishes he didn't have to be at today, either. He wishes he was seven hundred miles away, at home. When the plane touched down here this morning, he felt like he was being suffocated. Like the air was thicker, like he was being stifled, just because he lives here.

Steve avoids the city like the plague. Henderson moved here a few years ago, though, and Steve would be lying if he hadn't felt betrayed. He felt like a side had been chosen, and that it wasn't his.

Steve knows that's irrational. But he still feels that way, especially when he's alone with his thoughts. Robin has gotten sick of hearing about it. She's the only person on earth he feels comfortable letting see how much he still hurts.

How much he'll always be hurt, maybe.

Coming here today feels a little bit like torture, and opting out was definitely his first instinct.

But here Steve is. He couldn't do that to Henderson.

Even if he lives in town. It's not like Henderson ever mentions him anymore. Dustin quickly learned that was a bridge not to cross with Steve if he wished to continue living.

So, Steve cut off his nose to spite his own face, like a fucking idiot. Now he gets no information on Eddie, no secondhand gossip from friends, no nothing that doesn't come from the gossip rags.

Steve double-checks his reflection in the door of the brick building, fingers combing through his hair. Looks good. Like the rest of him. That much he is confident about. Everything else is the problem.

It's an old building, and when the old elevator opens, Steve looks around the big, airy ballroom. There's an open window seat, and he walks over and perches in it, waiting. The setting sun is warm on his back, and while he hasn't heard for sure, he knows in his gut that Eddie will be here. There's no way Eddie's missing Henderson's engagement party.

Even if that means seeing Steve.

Steve had checked the tour schedule, hoping, praying he'd be halfway across the world tonight. But there was a suspicious looking break in their dates. As if this had been planned around it.

It probably was.

But Steve can't worry about Eddie. He will, of fucking course, but it would be so much better for his own well-being if he didn't.

Eddie cut the first tie between them, but Steve is the one that burned the bridges behind him, making it permanent. If Eddie wanted to run from him, well, then he was gonna stay fucking gone. Steve wasn't interested in providing any sort of lifeline for Eddie to ever use to climb out of the hole he insisted on digging for himself.

Robin and Henderson have both said in soft, roundabout ways that Steve was kind of being a dick. Being petty, bitchy, mean. But Steve doesn't care. He got his heart broken. He lost his husband. He can be all of those things, and more.

Steve spins the ring on his finger, the one he hasn't worn in years. The old gold band that he dug out of the back of his closet, and spent all morning polishing into a gut punch.

His motto for tonight: Don't get sad, get even.

He wishes Robin were already here, but she's never been on time a day in her life. Every flight she's ever booked has been delayed, if not outright canceled, and today was no different. Unfortunately, that means he's sitting off to the edge of the ballroom by himself, waiting for something to happen.

Nothing does.

Friends who have become closer to strangers mingle, and laugh, leaving him on fringes, alone. And Steve knows that's his fault. He cut a large swath out of his life, isolating himself. Licking his wounds in solitary confinement. Robin is his only companion, besides his misery and grief.

He needs to suck it up, go mingle, force himself to dole out apologies and be a little more active in the festivities, certain that he's been foolish. Eddie isn't coming after all.

Steve makes his way over to Dustin.

"Congrats, kiddo," Steve says, wrapping his arm around Dustin's shoulders, squeezing.

"About damn time, I thought you were gonna sulk in the corner all night," Dustin snaps, and Steve laughs. No, he's not gonna do that. He just needed a minute. And he gets that Henderson understood that. He's a good kid, a good man, now.

He keeps talking, "I thought you were gonna go on some sort of anti-marriage tirade."

No, no, Steve was wrong. He is still a little shit.

"I'm not anti-marriage," Steve says, and he isn't. Sure, his didn't work out, but he's not going around assuming that everybody else's will end up the same way.

Unless they plan on marrying Eddie. Then, that's on them. Play dumb games, win stupid prizes.

"He was supposed to come tonight," Dustin admits.

Yeah, Steve figured as much, "Sorry he let you down, kid."

Dustin looks up at him, "Sorry he let you down, too."

Yeah, well. Shit happens.

The room is sparkling with twinkling lights that look even better as the sun melts into the horizon. Tray after tray of drinks and passed hors d'oeuvres make the rounds, and everyone seems happy to see him, maybe forgiving him a little too easily for his disappearing act.

They come see him in his window, like it's his new office. Handing him drinks, food. Doling out hugs and kisses. Stories. Sharing their lives with him.

Robin comes in earlier than he expected her, and she throws her hands in the air, announcing her arrival.

Dustin hugs her, and then she marches over to the window seat he's been holding court from.

He stands, and she steps into his arms, squeezing him tight, "Hi, dingus. Sorry I'm late."

"You're early," he says, and she's not. She's nearly an hour late. But for him, she's right on time.

Eddie didn't come. He doesn't have to say it, she knows. He feels foolish. He's wearing Eddie's leather jacket and his old wedding band, and dwelling on a past Eddie clearly doesn't give a flying fuck about.

Steve squeezes Robin back. It's been too long. Living in separate cities is for the goddamn birds. Maybe he should move closer to her. Pack up his life and just hit the road and be wherever she wants to be, always.

That sounds like the best plan for a lifetime of happiness that he's had in a goddamn long time.

"We could call the FBI. Tell them he's a drug mule. Tell them he's evading taxes."

Steve doesn't think either of those things are true.

He's about to say so when he feels the air in the room change.

Fuck.

He drops back to the bricks, not really able to stand under these conditions.

Eddie's here, Steve can't see him yet, refuses to scour the room, looking, searching, but he knows. He always knew when Eddie manifested himself into Steve's presence. Like a magic trick Steve doesn't know the secret behind, and probably never will.

Steve leans back, and sprawls out on the brick window sill he's been sitting in, and Robin is looking down at him wide-eyed. Because she's well aware of the only thing here that could knock his feet out from him.

She steps to the side and turns to look.

And he's determined to keep his head up. He's gonna meet this head-on, no-holds-barred. If Eddie wants to look away, wants to run like he always does, then he can be the one to do that. Again. Because Steve's got nothing to be ashamed about.

He didn't fuck up their lives. Eddie did.

Two black suits, his private security Steve's sure, flank Eddie. Like there's a threat at his friend's engagement party. Fucking ridiculous.

Well.

Maybe there is a threat: Steve.

At least a threat to his peace, and as if on cue Eddie stops in the middle of the room and stares. Steve stares back. Wrist resting over his own bent knee. They say looks can kill, and tonight Steve damn well might try.

Steve won't blink first, won't back down.

And eventually Eddie gives, loses, and looks away.

Steve smiles to himself, taking a sip of his drink, swirling the ice in the lowball glass, as Robin's eyebrows have permanently lodged themselves into her hairline. He makes small talk with her, when he knows she wants to say so fucking much about what just happened. There will be time for that later, time to dissect and replay, but only then does he unfold himself from the window seat, sauntering across the room, stopping to talk to his friends. His.

Steve doesn't look his way again, but he can definitely feel the eyes boring into him as he moves around the room. Good. Let him stare.

On the way back from the bathroom, Steve passes a little too close to the sun.

And Eddie reaches out, snagging Steve's hand in his, squeezing it hard enough that it pinches his skin between the ring he has no business wearing, but Steve doesn't react. Doesn't give him the satisfaction of knowing he can get to him in any way.

Not anymore.

He just looks at Eddie, and Eddie stares back.

Eddie doesn't let go. Instead he shifts his hand, sliding it upwards, until he's hooked his finger through the chain on the jacket sleeve, and starts to pull Steve by it, like he's on a lead. His feet betray him, and he follows.

So do the bodyguards.

"No, stay," Eddie says, like they're guard dogs. Maybe they are. They definitely heel to his command.

And he leads Steve out of the ballroom, down a long hallway, trying to push open door after locked door, until he finds one that gives, swinging open. It's empty, and probably used for staging or a dressing room during other events. There's a fancy couch, and the whole place is lit by the moonlight coming through the deep-set windows.

Only then does he let go. Steve feels burned.

But he doesn't react to that, instead Steve stands there, hands on his hips as Eddie lingers, several paces away, staring back.

He didn't ask for this, for any of this.

"What the fuck do you want?" Steve snaps, and Eddie's teeth are showing as he stalks forward. Steve refuses to take a step back, refuses to flinch or lose an inch of ground to him. Eddie's not gonna steamroll him, not ever again.

"What the fuck is this?" Eddie asks, reaching out and squeezing Steve's wrist. The jacket. Then flicking Steve's finger, the ring, as it rests on his hip.

"It's a wedding ring. I know that's probably confusing for you, since you never wore one of them. It ruined your aesthetic, or whatever this is," Steve mocks, waving his hand around Eddie's whole being. All the black leather and silver jewelry that doesn't mean shit.

Eddie ignores all that, and his eyes narrow down on Steve's hand, demanding, "You marry somebody else wearing my ring?"

"Maybe I did," Steve snaps. "What's it to you?"

And Eddie loses the standoff. His hands find his hair as he roughly pulls at it, spinning in a circle.

Steve smirks.

"You want it back? Here. Take it," Steve spits out, angry, so fucking pissed off for the past decade or more, pulling the ring off his finger and throwing it. Listening as it hits the wall across the room, and then clatters across the hardwood flooring.

He shrugs out of the jacket and throws it next. Hitting Eddie square in the chest.

The sound Eddie makes is distraught, feral, and if Steve didn't know he's only bullshit and bluster, he'd probably be scared.

But he's not scared of Eddie Munson. At least not in the way the rest of the world is, hoodwinked by the reputation he built with his carefully cultured public image that is just lie after lie.

Steve wasn't sure what would happen next, but Eddie on his hands and knees, patting around in the dark, his phone flashlight darting around trying to catch the glimmer of metal, wasn't what Steve expected.

"Why fucking bother?" Steve asks as he crosses his arms over his chest. Because honestly? He doesn't need it. He made his point. He cut him. He won this round. He needs to leave before he gets left. Again.

And Eddie didn't want him to have it back then, so why waste time digging up old bones? Let sleeping dogs lie.

"Because," Eddie grits out.

"Just let it go, Eddie. Just like you let me go," Steve snaps, and Eddie's head whips up, the flashlight suddenly blinding Steve.

Steve shields his eyes, "Put that down, asshole."

"Then don't fucking say that," Eddie snaps.

"Like it's not true?"

It is true, and Eddie can't even begin to deny it. He fucking ran, two years into their marriage. Two years that they spent more nights apart than they did together. Two years where they were too young. Too different. At least that's what everyone else said when the dust settled. Like, it was just a mistake anyone could have seen coming.

Like, two years had been a good run, but that this had always been the expected end result.

Steve hadn't expected it.

That didn't matter, though. They divorced, long-distance, papers delivered and signed through lawyers. All contact completely severed. And then they both spent more than a decade being extra careful to not wind up in the same region, let alone the same building, or room.

Now, here they are. Eddie on his hands and knees rooting around for ancient history, and Steve wishing he could be swallowed up by the floor under his feet just to be out of here. Away. Anywhere else.

It's bullshit. All of it.

Eddie finds it with a huffed laugh, and Steve isn't sure what happens next. Does Eddie pocket it? Keep it?

No, he stands, and stalks over to Steve, "You wanna wear it? You're gonna wear it."

And he forces it back onto Steve's hand, a perversion of the first time he did it. It catches on his knuckle, and hurts as Eddie forces it on, but Steve watches it happen, can't look away.

Then, Eddie's even further in his personal space, mouth closing over Steve's, hand sliding into Steve's hair, pulling. Steve kisses him back, hands digging into his back, holding on tight to everything he's already lost.

Steve's whole fucking body betrays him. He moans in Eddie's mouth, dick rushing towards hard, as Eddie leans further into him.

Learning all Steve's secrets from his time away.

Steve doesn't want Eddie to know anything about him.

He also wants him to know everything.

It's infuriating.

Even more so when Eddie spins him around, shoving him forwards, making Steve catch himself on the back of the couch.

Eddie puts his hand in the middle of Steve's back, and presses downwards, hard. Bending him over the back side of the vintage couch. Steve goes, willingly. The ornate wood trim digging into his belly. Eddie's hand rubs up and down his sides, hands feeling how his shirt is hugging his skin, and Steve knew it was a good choice. But he doesn't have time to gloat before Eddie's fingers slide around, brushing Steve's stomach, slowly unbuttoning every button of his shirt. Roughly pulling it from his arms, catching on his wrists before being tugged loose, then moving on to unhooking his belt, unbuttoning his jeans, before yanking them down his thighs.

Steve digs the toe of his boot into the hardwood floor, trying to get some leverage that he knows he'll need. It's gonna be rough, and fast, and hard. Desperate.

Overdue.

Maybe a little bit mean. Steve's not sure what kind of headspace Eddie's in. Hadn't had the chance to really gauge him, before he was drug away into the darkness to fight and fuck about unfinished business.

All their business is unfinished.

Eddie's pressed flush to his back, his palm pressing into the center of Steve's chest, his fingers moving through his chest hair. His cock, hard through his jeans, pressing into Steve's ass. A promise, or a threat.

Either, both, maybe. And then Eddie makes good on it. Steve hears him tearing open foil. Then he feels the cool liquid running down his crack. He tries not to jump, startle. Of course Eddie's carrying travel packets of lube. He shouldn't have assumed anything else.

Then there are slick fingers, one, then two, pressing at him, in him. Sliding deep, working to push all his buttons, proving Eddie hasn't forgotten a goddamn thing. One hand working fingers inside him, the other palming his balls before reaching down to tug on his cock. Just like Steve always liked. But Steve won't make any noise. Won't give Eddie the satisfaction. But Steve's breathing deep and hard, panting as he pushes back against Eddie's hand. Demanding more.

Eddie listens for once, too fast, too soon, and Eddie's breaching him. Steve wanted to draw this out. But that cock that Steve has loved, missed, needed is working him open, fast and rough. It's not enough, it's too much. All at once.

Steve loses, can't bite it back any longer, and Steve huffs out a whine of a breath as Eddie slams into him. He hasn't felt this in years. It's exactly the same, but totally different, too. It's like being fucked by a complete stranger.

It's also like coming home.

He squeezes his eyes shut and tries to keep quiet. The last thing he wants is any of their friends to see him like this. To know that he allowed himself to be bent over this easily. That all he had to do was spend fifteen minutes alone with Eddie before he allowed his resolve to crumble to dust, desperate for it, the second Eddie laid hands on him.

Eddie's not wearing a condom, Steve can feel the difference, can feel the ease of the slide in a way that he hasn't since Eddie cut and ran. Steve knows he should be mad, furious that Eddie thinks he still has that right. That he thinks his blanket permission from a decade ago overrides a goddamn divorce. But Steve's not mad. And he hates that he's not mad. Resents that he gets off on the fact that it's still only Eddie that has been invited inside him, and has been allowed to leave his mark deep, in more ways than one.

"Fuck you, Harrington," Eddie says, and Steve claws at the fabric of the couch, blunt fingernails scraping against the rough texture of it.

"You already are, asshole," Steve says back.

Eddie laughs. It sounds more delighted than deranged, and if Steve keeps his eyes shut, he can pretend this was another lifetime ago.

It's easy to go along for the ride, just allowing himself to feel what he hasn't in so many years. It's not like he's been celibate, or alone, but he has been without this. Without Eddie, and having a taste of it again might just wreck him.

There are lips against his back, and a cock splitting him wide. In his mind he's twenty-two and in love. Really in love.

When he opens them again, he's thirty-four, and bitter. Broken.

Angry.

So goddamn angry that his life, their life, turned out to be bullshit.

And suddenly the tears burn his eyes. Fuck. He's gonna cry. He reaches up to pinch the bridge of his nose, as if he can stave it off with that alone. As if he can just will it away, by wanting it bad enough. But it's not working. He's gonna do the very last thing he ever wanted to have happen in Eddie's presence ever again. When he can't hold it back a second longer, he hitches in a ragged breath, and Eddie stutters, stilling all momentum, immediately.

It nearly gives Steve whiplash, going from a hundred to zero, just like that.

Which is fitting. That's how their whole relationship turned out. From hot and heavy, to distant strangers. Why would this be any goddamn different?

"Steve?" Eddie asks, a warm palm against his back. Rubbing soft, soothing circles, his guitar calluses scratching gently. "Sweetheart?"

That's the last straw, it's too familiar, too much, and he curls over the back of the couch as far as he can as Eddie pulls out, leaving him empty and more bereft than he already was. Steve tries to reach backwards, tries to lure him back. Back inside, back to Steve. Just back, in any way he can get him.

It doesn't happen, of course, and Eddie tries to manhandle Steve into turning around to face him. Steve would rather do anything else, so he won't allow himself to be turned because Steve's still bigger, always has been bigger and stronger, and Eddie's hands disappear before reappearing as he moves around the couch to kneel on the cushion next to where Steve is actively wishing to be swallowed whole.

"Steve," Eddie says, the voice reedy and scared, hands brushing down Steve's back, then moving through Steve's hanging hair, trying to find his face. "Did I hurt you? Did you…" Eddie trails off, thumb on Steve's cheek, "Did you not want that? Did I - did I read you wrong?"

Steve shakes his head. He's hurt, of course he is, just not in the way Eddie means. Of course he wanted this. He just can't. Not with Eddie. It's too hard.

Even if that's all he wants.

He looks down at the cushions below, he sees Eddie's bare thigh, tattoos unfamiliar, and his cock, very familiar, scared into softness. Nestled there in his open fly. Steve wonders if he smells the same. Wants to bury his face in Eddie's crotch and breathe deep.

What an unhinged thing to want, he thinks. But Steve just wants to go home, go back in time.

Eddie's still gorgeous. Always has been, though, and Steve snakes out a hand, curling it around Eddie's forearm.

Asking him not to go.

Asking him to stay this time.

"Sweetheart. Look at me, or I'm getting Robin," Eddie says, and Steve hiccups a laugh as Eddie plays with the hairs at the nape of his neck.

He's not his sweetheart, not any longer, he knows that all too well, but hearing that come out of his lips makes something bloom in his chest. An unfurling longing. Nostalgia for a time he'll never be able to return to, as long as he lives.

It's already gone. They've already grown up, distant from each other.

And Steve raises his head enough to meet Eddie's eyes.

"She'd kill you," Steve says, trying to blink the wetness from his lashes.

"I'd let her," Eddie answers.

Steve misses him. He's right here, looking right at him, but Steve misses him something fierce.

"Are you okay? What's going on?" Eddie asks, scooting closer, his hand never leaving Steve's neck. Fingers brushing against his skin, keeping contact, soothing him in a way only he ever could.

Steve laughs, bordering on unhinged.

"Vigilante shit," Steve breathes out, and it's like he's ran a marathon, maybe an ultra.

And Eddie laughs, leaning forward and pressing his mouth to Steve's temple.

Steve leans into him.

"Well, that's fair, sweetheart," Eddie says, "I'll give you that. I deserve it. But are you okay?"

"I'm okay," Steve reassures. As okay as he'll ever be, anyway, here surrounded by the smoldering embers of the life he watched burn to the ground.

Eddie rotates until he's laying down on the couch, and opens his arms for Steve. Steve takes the offer, sliding over the back of the couch, crawling on top of Eddie. Not very gracefully since his pants are still trapped around his thighs, boots on his feet.

"Here, let me help," Eddie says, trying to maneuver him to sitting. Steve allows it.

And Eddie slides off the couch, kneeling at Steve's feet. Eddie looks at how Steve has them laced so they just slip on and off, and it's an old Eddie trick. Steve knows it, Eddie knows it.

"Well, this is sexy," Eddie says as he gently pulls the first one off his foot, then the second. And Steve laughs. Eddie then pulls his jeans down, tossing them aside, "Can you breathe now?"

Steve nods.

Undressed, and a little more unburdened, Steve watches as Eddie sheds his own pants, and then gets back on the couch, laying back against the cushions, an invitation.

Steve takes it.

He's pretty sure their naked asses aren't supposed to be on this antique piece of furniture, but he'd like to see anyone tell Eddie Munson no. It's impossible, and a waste of breath. Always has been.

So, they lay together, Eddie's hand stroking up and down his back, fingers against his spine. Whispering words that Steve's waited a decade to hear. And Steve listens, feeling the rumble of Eddie's chest, the timbre of his voice that is somehow even deeper than it was at twenty-three. They kiss and grind soft cocks together until they aren't soft anymore. They roll together until Steve slides back down on Eddie's cock, ready to finish what they started.

It's gentler now, and Steve's pretty sure that might make this worse, after. Hate sex, angry fucking to get each other out of their systems, he thinks he could get over. That he could take at face value.

But this?

This is too soft. Too loving.

And that's gonna destroy him when it's over.

Eddie was, is, will always be, the greatest thing he's ever lost. Steve swears he only blinked, but in between that breath and the next, Eddie had slipped through his fingers.

But he wouldn't give this up. He never wanted to give Eddie up. Not then, not now, and that's really fucking hard to wrap his head around. That it ended against his will. That the thing he was sure was forever, crashed and burned so fucking quickly, completely out of his control.

He couldn't save them from themselves. He couldn't save them from the self-destructive streak Eddie just couldn't shake.

He couldn't stop Eddie from running.

Distance, blossoming fame, and the road just being more of an obstacle than they would have ever imagined when they stood up and said I do, promising forever.

Well, forever was pretty fucking short, Steve guesses.

He rocks on Eddie's cock, fucking himself as Eddie holds his hips in his hands.

"That's it, sweetheart," Eddie encourages, and Steve's setting the rhythm now. The pace, the intensity, so he can't even blame Eddie for this slow down. For this softness.

This is all on him.

But Eddie still fits in him like he was made to be there. Of course, Steve assumes Eddie's cock has been in lots of places since they buckled and folded. So, yeah, that probably means a doctor's visit, and a nerve wracking wait for test results will be in his future for being impulsive and foolish.

At the same time, he still trusts Eddie. Maybe he shouldn't. It makes no sense to, for fuck's sake. Eddie broke his heart, abandoned him like he meant nothing. But for some reason he trusts that Eddie would have never slid into him, warm and bare and familiar, if there was a cause for concern.

He's always lost his fucking mind when he came to Eddie. That not changing today is no fucking surprise, not really.

Steve angles himself so Eddie's bumping his prostate, over and over, and it's just too much, too good, and Steve tenses, coming all over Eddie's belly. But he keeps grinding down on Eddie's cock, determined to get him over the edge, too.

Eddie groans, hand squeezing Steve's hip, "I'm gonna come."

"Do it," Steve breathes out, and Eddie does. Shoving up into him as far, and as hard as he can, and Steve tilts his head back, enjoying that this moment has happened for them, one more time.

He collapses onto Eddie's chest, laughing the way he always has after good sex, Eddie's softening cock still inside him, and Steve's not about to pull away yet.

The door opens, and Steve pops up to look to see who has found them.

Robin.

"Goddamnit, dingus," she says from the doorway. He's aware from her angle she can see he's shirtless and debauched. She can't know that Eddie's still in him, soft, but unwilling to extract himself.

"I take it that asshole ex of yours is under you?"

"Hi, Robbie," Eddie says, still unseen by her, from his place on the couch under Steve.

She doesn't respond, ignoring Eddie. Which is to be expected, Steve supposes.

"Get cleaned up. Dustin's realized you're both missing."

Steve watches as Eddie stretches his arm backwards into her view, making the okay sign and she slams the door in response.

They both laugh, and Steve lays back down on Eddie's bare chest, kissing him again. And again.

"She hates me now," Eddie says, when they break apart.

"With the fire of a thousand suns, yes," Steve answers, tucking his face into Eddie's neck. Robin and Eddie used to be friends, best friends, but when Eddie cut and ran, Robin wrote him off swiftly, with finality, and without remorse. Steve appreciated the loyalty. And he's gonna need it, tomorrow. Because he knows this was just one night, one mistake, but he's gonna milk it for all that it's worth since he's already in for a penny.

"We really have to make an appearance," Eddie says, and Steve whines at the idea. But he lifts up, Eddie's cock sliding out of him for the last time. At least he knows this time. At least he can brace for the impact.

But Eddie has other ideas.

"We'll be seen, we'll congratulate the kid, and then I'll take you back to bed, and show you how much I've missed you."

Steve nods. Yes. That. All of that, please.

If he only gets one more night, he wants to draw out this long overdue goodbye as much as possible.

"We hadn't even had dinner," Dustin admonishes, shoving Steve's shoulder. Eddie puts a hand between them, like this might escalate.

"That's my bad, kid," Eddie says, shit-eating grin on his face.

Henderson is more forgiving. He loves them both. But Robin's glaring daggers through Eddie's back. There's no way he doesn't feel it. Steve can feel it, and it isn't even directed at him.

The party is winding down, and at the first opportunity, Eddie holds out the old leather jacket, helping it up and over Steve's shoulders.

"Steve," Robin says, a warning, and he steps away from Eddie, leaning down, hugging her.

"Let me say goodbye right this time," he pleads and she nods against his cheek.

She hates this, Steve knows she does, but she lets him go. She'll let him make this mistake. Will let him poke at this old, never-healed, wound.

Eddie leads him out the front of the venue. A crowd has gathered. Word must have spread that Eddie Munson was in the building, and now flashbulbs are blinding Steve, and Steve's instinct is to let go. Drop Eddie's hand and run. Hide, get out of sight. But Eddie doesn't let go of his hand. Even as he's guiding them towards the waiting black SUV.

One of the security guys reaches for the door handle, and Steve sees Eddie rest his hand on his shoulder. The guy immediately backs off, and Eddie opens it for Steve himself. Standing there, looking grown up, and then suddenly his arm pops out, and he dips into a half-bow.

Steve laughs, loud and happy. He's still Eddie.

He wishes he had a picture. Wants to replay that memory in his mind forever, and he realizes suddenly that he probably can. That in the next ten minutes the entire walk from the building to the car will be uploaded from at least a dozen angles.

There's gonna be story after story of Eddie Munson entering the building alone and re-emerging four hours later with his ex-husband on his arm.

The divider in the car goes up, and they can't keep their hands off of each other.

Steve shifts on the leather.��

"What's wrong?" Eddie asks, pulling back to look in his eyes.

It's only Eddie, so he tells the truth, "I'm leaking."

And Eddie grins, wolfish and wild, "Well. I could take care of that."

The pulse of want goes through Steve. It's filthy and is he really gonna let Eddie eat his ass in a moving car, a driver just on the other side of the barrier?

Yeah, yeah he is.

He moves to his belt, but Eddie's fingers replace his own, "Let me, sweetheart."

And at this point, Steve thinks he'll let Eddie do anything he wants.

The pictures from outside Eddie's building are sure to be obscene. Eddie, mouth red and lips shiny, Steve's hair in utter disarray. The crowd is rowdy, extra loud and demanding, and Eddie seems to be in no hurry. He's smiling, and looking around, as if this is completely normal.

As if he always hooks up with his ex-husband, rims him in the car, and the waves to the fans, after. He looks happy, thrilled even, instead of annoyed to be caught in the public eye.

Maybe it is normal for him, but it's definitely not for Steve. This was never his life, not even when they were married and Eddie's star continued to rise. Maybe, especially not then. Eddie wanted his private life to be private and that meant Steve was left at home, out of sight.

Not tonight.

Tonight it's obvious what they've been doing during the car ride. The press will have a field day building a timeline with the pictures and videos.

Eddie holds Steve's hand, tight and protective, leading the charge, but he uses the other to wave. To stop and sign an album. A poster. All while his security tries to wrangle him inside.

"This is Steve," he tells a fan, a camera shoved in his face.

Steve tries to put on a pageant smile, and is certain he's failed. This is fucking bizarre. Has Eddie really changed this much? Then they're moving again, finally making their way towards the door.

"Thank you," Eddie says, looking right at the man holding open the door.

"Mr. Munson," the doorman says, and Eddie shakes his hand, and Steve really thinks the guy wouldn't have if he knew where Eddie's hands have been recently.

They're taken to a private elevator, and when it opens, it's in the middle of a huge penthouse apartment.

Which is pretty amazing. The only thing fucking up the view is Gareth on the couch, in his underwear. He's holding a bowl of cereal under his chin, and he accidentally tips it on himself.

"Sorry," Eddie says, "I wasn't expecting to bring home company."

"Oh, that's okay," Gareth answers with a smirk.

"I wasn't talking to you," Eddie laughs, and Gareth grins. "If you got cereal on that couch, clean it up. I'm not smelling sour milk for the next decade every time I sit down."

"Yeah, yeah," Gareth says.

Then he looks right at Steve.

"Steven," Gareth greets, and Steve gives him a little wave. He's really grown up since Steve saw him last.

Eddie puts his hand on the small of Steve's back, "My bedroom is back here."

It looks like his closet exploded, a familiar mess. Eddie starts picking up clothes off the bed.

"Sorry, I had trouble deciding what to wear tonight," Eddie says, several pairs of black jeans that look identical to Steve slung over his arm.

His room has a hell of a view. There are floor to ceiling windows, and Steve stands there and looks over the city. Eddie's done well for himself. But Steve knew that, never doubted that he would, but it's just something else to see the reality of that with his own eyes.

Eddie wraps his arms around Steve's middle, hugging him from behind, his chin hooked over Steve's shoulder.

Steve closes his eyes and just leans into his touch.

Eddie's hands are all over him. Rough calluses touching, stroking, remapping his skin. Seemingly marking the changes. Steve's face down on the softest, worn-in sheets he's ever felt. They smell like Eddie. They feel like home.

They aren't fancy, no satin or showy black here, just comfortable gray cotton. The real Eddie, not the persona.

The lights of the city are casting the room in shadow, but Steve doesn't need to see Eddie. He can feel him.

Eddie is rocking into him, slow and steady. There's no hurry, no racing towards the finish line.

Because this is goodbye, and neither of them are quite ready to let go. Not yet.

When Steve wakes up, it's dark in the room, and Eddie is dead to the world, his hair is fanned out across the pillow. As much as Steve wants to roll over, curl into Eddie's body and go back to sleep, he's aware it's time to go. He doesn't want to do it in the morning when it's awkward and sad. The harsh light of day ruining this. Eddie had shown him how much he'd missed him, as promised, and Steve's gonna carry that with him, feel it for days.

This is a better ending than they got last time.

He dresses quietly, and Steve's carrying his boots out of Eddie's bedroom, when another door in the hallway cracks open.

"Oh, hell no," is the pronouncement, and Steve turns and looks. Gareth.

"Yeah, well, I love you, too, Gareth," Steve says, as he keeps walking. He doesn't need any lip from this kid. Never has, never will.

But then he's jostled as Gareth forces his way in front of Steve, blocking his path out of the hallway. Standing in front of him, not allowing him to just sneak away in peace. Does there really need to be salt rubbed into the gaping wound? He's going. Maybe he fucked up. Maybe they both did. But it was one night. Closure. Ripping open old wounds. Whatever you want to call it.

"Just where do you think you're going?" Gareth hisses, and Steve just glares at him.

"Back to my own hotel, back to my own life. What the fuck is it to you?"

And Gareth grabs Steve's boots, yanking them from his hand, one landing with a thunk against the plush carpet. Then he kicks his foot out, banging it against the door they're stopped in front of, like a crazy person.

"What the fuck is your problem, dude?" Steve snaps, and the second door opens. Goodie, then Jeff, standing in the doorway. Why are they all fucking here? Don't they see enough of each other on the goddamn road? Steve tilts his head back, annoyed, "Great. Just great."

"Steve?" Jeff asks. Like he might be someone else.

"Don't you run away from him again!" Gareth hisses, and Steve feels insane. In what universe did Steve ever run from Eddie?

"What the fuck? Run? Me? I'm the one that ran? I think you've rewritten history there, kid," Steve says, squatting down to pick up his fallen boot.

And Gareth shoves his shoulders, knocking him off-balance and onto his ass.

Oh, Steve's gonna kill him.

But Eddie gets there first.

"What in the actual fuck?!" Eddie screams, getting in between Gareth and Steve as Steve puts on the one boot he has control over.

Eddie attempts to wrestle the other away from Gareth, bullying him around the hall.

"I was helping you!" Gareth yells, ducking under Eddie's arm, darting to the side, but that allows Goodie to easily snag the boot being held hostage during the evasive maneuver. He turns it over to Jeff, who hands it down to Steve, waiting for him to get it pulled on, and then helps him to his feet.

Ushering him past Eddie roughhousing Gareth against the wall, making him squawk and squall. Not a thing has changed. It'd be funny if it wasn't so ridiculous.

Jeff holds his arm out behind Steve, a protective gesture, and presses the down button for him.

Steve steps in when the door opens, sees Jeff pressing the intercom on the wall, and then the doors close. The last thing he hears before he descends is a hand slapping against the doors, and Eddie's muffled, "No!"

When Steve steps out of the private elevator, the same doorman from earlier is waiting and steps forward.

"Mr. Harrington, this way," he states, and hovers a hand behind his back, just like Jeff had, like Jeff must be so used to this, that now he was doing it himself. He hears the doorman radio for a car to be sent to the escape hatch and Steve thinks that sounds a bit dramatic, but smiles to himself.

So, there's a back entrance they use, but Eddie decided to have them dropped off out front. He wanted them to be seen, and Steve doesn't try to read into that. Tries not to interpret it as a hard launch, as he's led down a long hallway, far away from the front of the building.

The doorman holds open a door that leads to a flight of stairs that go down, down, down. Steve smiles at him, even if he's a little embarrassed to be slinking off underground in the middle of the night. Maybe the doorman is used to it. Maybe this is part of his regular job, ushering out Eddie's conquests.

"Steve, wait!" he hears, as Eddie is rushing down the hallway toward them.

"Mr. Harrington," the doorman says, giving him a choice. He surely works for Eddie, especially if he knows who Steve is without having ever met him before, but he's clearly giving Steve an out.

"It's okay," Steve says, and the doorman takes a step back, as they both watch Eddie run down towards them only in his jeans, barefoot.

The doorman lets Eddie and Steve step into the stairwell, and then closes the door to the hallway, giving them some privacy. Eddie nods towards another door, and then taps his watch against the plate on the wall, lighting it up green, unlocking it. Once he opens it, it's a small balcony. With some sort of dark screen that Steve assumes only works one way. They can see out, but the world can't see in. Eddie's sure living a fancy life.

The fresh, fall air feels nice against his face, and Steve closes his eyes. Eddie pats his pockets, finds what he's looking for, and then lights a cigarette. When it's offered up, Steve takes it. At least on this side of the building, the street is blissfully empty. The crowd from earlier, totally gone.

It feels normal, and the sounds of the city hum with life down below.

"Don't go, or at least let me walk you out," Eddie says, hand on Steve's forearm, and he keeps talking, "Are you okay?"

Steve laughs, "Just plotting Gareth's demise."

"I'll help," Eddie says, a small grin on his face. Then he looks serious, "He shouldn't have shoved you."

"I just didn't have my center of balance, and he took advantage like a little shithead."

"Still," Eddie says.

Steve's not mad. Trying to be forced to stay is way better than being encouraged to leave.

"It's fine. He just didn't want me to run again," Steve says, raising an eyebrow, and he smiles when Eddie cackles. "You been telling stories?"

"No. Well, of course, but not about that. He knows what really happened. He's just-"

"Your Robin," Steve fills in.

"Yeah. How is Robbie? We didn't really get a chance to catch up."

Steve laughs, Robin would have eviscerated him had he tried.

"Good, great. Happy. Well, probably not tonight. She doesn't want to clean up any more messes you and I make with each other. But good, otherwise."

Eddie just stares at Steve, eyes unwavering.

"What?" Steve finally asks.

"What if we don't make any more messes?" Eddie asks, big, brown eyes looking into Steve as if he can see his soul if he stares hard enough.

"Eddie," Steve says.

"Seriously. What if we do it right this time?"

"Are you not still on the road?" Steve asks, because he knows the answer to that, and Eddie's a lot more famous than he was the last time he thought he needed to leave Steve in the dust.

"Yeah, but not in the same way. I'm older. Wiser."

"You sure about that?" Steve teases.

"Let a guy dream," Eddie banters back, then adds, "Let a guy make up for his sins."

"Well, you do have plenty of those," Steve teases.

"I do," Eddie admits, then reaches out to squeeze Steve's arms, "But I'm ready. For you. For this," he says, hand sliding down to brush against Steve's wedding band. "How 'bout it?"

Like it's that easy. Like there won't be conversations to have, and the same old problems to tackle. Like there isn't deep-seated hurt to smooth over, overcome.

But none of that matters. Not really.

Because, yeah. Steve's ready for it, too.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddiesongfics and follow along with the fun! 🎶

Notes: If you're familiar with the song by Taylor Swift, you'll have recognized where several of the lyrics popped in. (And other songs from Taylor's discography as well.) I love these song challenges, since music inspires me to write things SO often.

This got way longer than I intended. I was gonna write it jointly for this and "wrath" over at @corrodedcoffinfest, but 1313 words went by way too fast, haha. 🤣

#steddiesongfics #song prompt #stranger things #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #steddie #exes to lovers #thisapplepielife: short fic #thisapplepielife: steddiesongfics

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