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thelargefrye · 3 days ago

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BECAUSE I'M HIM ... mature one - shot (21+) | PART I

pairing : supe!ateez x supe!villain!f!reader ( ft. supe!villain!sanhwa x supe!villain!f!reader )

genre : dark, mature, heroes and villains, demon slayer x mha inspired, angst

word count : 24k

warnings : language, a lot... a LOT of fight scenes 😮‍💨, death / murder, blood / body gore, suicide, choking, attempted murder, the government wouldn't do that to you - oh yes they would, mass killing (a whole island gets wiped out – not in detail and only mentioned), MAJOR character deaths, cannibalism (kind of), mention human sacrifice, any korean that appears might be inaccurate

smut warnings : unprotected sex, pain kink, wound... fingering (I CAN EXPLAIN), handjob

listen to the official soundtrack here

note : for topaz's @sanjoongie YOTV collab – had so much fun planning this and writing it, thank you for allowing me to be apart of this collab and i hope you enjoy it! please make sure to check out the other fics for this collab with the masterlist!

also thank you to @anyamaris for letting me word vomit this to you!

with the hero association struggling to take down the villain alliance, they and the government force death row villains to team up with some of the world's greatest heroes in order to hunt down and defeat them. you are one of those villains.

ACT I: THE FINAL SELECTION

maximum security prison – interrogation room – day

the briefing room was sterile and cold. not only that but filled with tension that it could be easily cut with a knife. the seven heroes in the room along with the two hero association agents stood in a line, waiting. their hero uniforms were sharp and pristine – like they had never experienced being in a fight before. some of them exchanged wary glances, waiting for their captain to speak up.

some of the wary glances focus on said captain, hongjoong, as he lets out an annoyed sigh, arms crossed and a scowl on his face, “i still think this is a mistake. we don’t need some damn villains on our team.”

“maybe we should hear the reasoning first,” jongho says calmly as he leans against the wall and gestures to the two agents who are whispering amongst themselves, “they must have a plan after all.”

wooyoung let out an annoyed tsk at the youngest member’s words, “seriously? whose bright idea was it to bring in villains? we’re supposed to be heroes, not babysitters.”

“or they’re just desperate,” yeosang sounds a little skeptical before he’s glancing at yunho, “yunho, you… you knew y/n, didn’t you? before you became a hero?”

“yeah. we… we grew up together. went to school together too,” he answers, his body stiffening slightly at the mention of you and your… past together.

“and you’re only bringing that up now? feels like a pretty important detail,” wooyoung says, looking at yunho was a raised eyebrow. he was suspicious of why yunho would exclude ever telling the team this information.

the top hero looks at wooyoung, “it’s not relevant. that was years ago,” he says, defensively, but why? was he trying to defend himself or you?

“not relevant?” hongjoong speaks up this time, “you sure about that? she turned into a villain, killed a bunch of people at vanguard, yunho. makes me wonder if you missed the warning signs back then.”

yunho clenches his fist, eyes shooting a glare at his captain, but mingi steps in, “alright, that’s enough. no reason to randomly start pointing fingers.”

wooyoung turns his head, “still doesn’t mean this is right. we shouldn’t be working with people who are on fucking death row of all things,” he says under his breath.

“we don’t have to like it, but you know the villain alliance is escalating. if bringing in these three gives us an edge, we can’t afford to turn it down.”

“of course you would be on the side of bringing the villains in, yeosang,” wooyoung says, eyes glaring at his friend, teammate, “just because they have dark powers like yours doesn’t mean they are like you.” yeosang’s ears burn a bright red as his eyes look down to the floor, avoiding the others uneasy glances.

the tension in the room hangs heavy, with yunho shifting uncomfortably as the others cast sidelong glances at him. the door opens, breaking the moment and yunho internally sighs in relief, as the three villains – seonghwa, san, and you – are escorted inside by armed guards. your gray prison uniforms are a stark contrast to the heroes’ pristine, clean ones. yunho’s eyes focus in on the thick collars around your necks, a dim, red light pulsing faintly – prisoner control devices. you are further restrained with a sleek, heavy, metal helmet that entirely covers your head and face. yunho is sure that you can’t see out of it at all.

“this is ridiculous. putting them on our team?” hongjoong says once more, scowl growing even deeper.

“by order of the hero association, you’re to work together,” one of the agents said, fixing their glasses, “the villain alliance is escalating – demon appearances are increasing, dangerously, you’ll need their help. villains are better suited to take down other villains afterall.”

your head tilts slightly, sensing the hostility in the room despite being unable to see it. seonghwa and san exchange quick glances, their body language guarded.

“this is a bad idea. they’re basically just as dangerous as the demons,” jongho whispers quietly from the other side of yunho.

“we don’t have a choice,” yunho says back, trying his best to sound neutral; however, he can’t tear his eyes away from you. all he can do is picture you from six years ago, before the hero association and public claimed you to be one of the worst villains alive.

the other agent steps forward, their presence commanding attention as they begin to speak, “we’ve gathered intel that the villain alliance has been growing exponentially with more and more demons popping up. they are also reported to have a ranking system with the top demons known as the twelve moons. these twelve demons are the alliance’s most strongest aside from their leader – nicha yontararak, is powerful. we don’t know the exact extent of her powers yet. which is why these three,” they say pointing to you and the other two villains, “are some of our strongest villains we have on death row. they’ve… agreed to cooperate.”

wooyoung can’t help but let out a snicker at the agent’s words, “‘agreed’? pretty sure those collars say otherwise.”

“as if we want to help you all. i would rather happily stay in my cell and watch you all fail miserably,” san snaps back sharply.

wooyoung steps forward, jaw clenched, “big words for someone in cuffs.”

“careful, hero. the collars don’t stop us from speaking,” seonghwa says, his voice the complete opposite of san’s. like fire and ice.

you remain silent, your head shifting slightly as if trying your best to track the conversation. the helmet not only robs you of your sight, but also most of your hearing. your restrained demeanor makes you an enigmatic presence amongst the three villains.

“enough. we’re all here for the same reason,” yeosang says calmly, trying to de-escalate the situation before it grew even more hostile. was that even possible? he surely didn’t want to find out.

“speak for yourself,” hongjoong scoffs.

the first agent speaks up again, “this isn’t up for debate. the decision is final. get them integrated into the team.” the guards step back but remain close, their hands on their weapons as if waiting for either villains or heroes to make the wrong move. the two agents turn to leave but the second one pauses at the door.

“one last thing. these collars can and will neutralize them if they step out of line. you have our full authorization to engage them if necessary, captain hongjoong.” the agents exits the room, leaving a thick silence behind. the room feels suffocating with unspoken tension.

“so, will you actually be able to help us? or is this just an eventual setup?” jongho asks, looking towards the villains.

“we were in prison, not their meetings,” seonghwa deadpans at the youngest hero, “do we look like demons to you?”

yunho finds himself stepping closer to you, “y/n? how… how have you been?” his voice is quiet and he cringes at how he sounds. why the hell would he ask you that? of course you haven’t been good, you’ve been in prison.

you don’t answer him; however, choosing to remain silent which causes hongjoong to let out a laugh as if to ridicule yunho. yunho casts a quick glance at you. his jaw tightens, an unfamiliar guilt gnawing at him. he shifts uncomfortably, wondering if things could’ve been different – if he had done more, maybe tried harder to help you all those years ago. his fingers curl into fists before he looks away, swallowing his thoughts.

“don’t waste your breath, yunho. she doesn’t care about any of this,” hongjoong says.

san steps forward, tension rolling off his form, “watch your mouth,” he threatens with a clenched jaw.

“or what?” hongjoong asks with a cold smile, “you can’t do anything without your leash.”

before things could escalate further, mingi steps between them, raising his hands in a calming gesture. “we’re supposed to be working together. let’s not start killing each other before the real fight.”

seonghwa places a hand on san’s shoulder, guiding him back a step. you tilt your head slightly, as if observing the dynamics despite your blindness.

“this is going well,” yeosang says softly, the tension clearly making him on edge.

“it’s gonna get worse,” wooyoung mutters.

“then we’d better figure it out fast. the villain alliance isn’t going to wait for us to get along,” jongho says seriously as he looks around.

ateez compound – common room – evening

the ateez compound is probably the nicest facility you’ve ever seen. its sleek in design and filled with every necessity a hero team might need and more: training rooms, living quarters, a common area with large couches, a television that actually worked, and a kitchen off to the side. the atmosphere, however, is anything but welcoming, you conclude.

you sit in the corner of the common room, back against the wall, and your head finally free of that damn helmet that you had been forced to wear for six years in prison. seonghwa leans on the arm of one of the long couches, observing the room with an icy, detached look. san, sits cross-legged on the floor, tossing a small ball against the wall and catching it repeatedly. the three of you remain isolated, a rather stark contrast to the other heroes clustered together on the other side of the room.

the air on the other side of the common area is heavy with an uneasy mix of silence and tension. hongjoong stands by the large window that overlooks the surrounding outside area of the compound, arms crossed, his sharp gaze darting towards the three villains every few seconds. his eyes stay on you a little longer, taking in your calm yet unreadable face. wooyoung leans against the wall near him, arms folded tightly, while yeosang and mingi quietly watch from the kitchen.

jongho watches everyone from his spot on the other couch that isn’t occupied by seonghwa. yunho, perched on the edge of a chair, keeps glancing at you but says nothing.

“i still can’t believe we have to live with them. it’s like inviting a time bomb into your house,” hongjoong grimaces.

“more like three. pretty sure those collars won’t stop them if they decide to go rogue,” wooyoung snickers from beside him.

“you don’t know that. maybe this could work if we actually tried,” mingi said, a little louder than he intended. hongjoong shifts his gaze to mingi, eyebrows raised.

“tried? they’re not here to make friends, mingi. they’re here because the association thinks villains killing villains is easier than us doing it.”

“it doesn’t mean they can’t be allies. everyone starts somewhere,” yeosang says calmly.

wooyoung rolls his eyes at the red-haired hero’s words, “dark powers stick together, huh?” yeosang doesn’t respond to the obvious bait, but his jaw tightens. meanwhile, you tilt your head slightly, almost like you were listening.

san catches his ball with an annoyed sigh, “we can hear you, you know.” he says flatly.

“good,” wooyoung responds mockingly, “saves me the trouble of repeating myself.”

“you’re very brave when you’re surrounded by your friends,” you suddenly speak up, breaking your silence. the room goes quiet at your words. this is the first time any of them have heard you speak and it sends an uneasy shiver down the heroes’ spines as you narrow your eyes over at wooyoung. an unexplainable energy feels like his chest when you make eye contact, and he opens his mouth to respond, but hongjoong puts a hand on his arm, shaking his head. the tension is palpable.

the setting sun is the only thing warming the otherwise cold room, painting the usually white walls with an orange glow to it.

ateez compound – rooftop – later that night

the rooftop of the compound offers a great view of the surrounding forest. you can see the city in the distance, the skyline blinking and it reminds you of the stars that are in the sky. yeosang stands at the edge, leaning on the railing looking out at said skyline. you join him, your movements quiet.

“couldn’t sleep?” you ask, opting to not look at yeosang, but you could tell he was distracted.

“no.”

“figured,” you said, smirking lightly, “i guess the compound’s not as relaxing as it usually is, huh?”

yeosang doesn’t respond immediately. you shift a little, looking from him to the city where his eyes are.

“do they… hate you too?” you asked quietly, as if you were worried that someone unwanted would overhear you.

“what?” yeosang finally looks at you, a look of surprise on his face.

“the others. your powers are different. they must notice.”

yeosang lets out an awkward cough as he considers your words for a moment, then shrugs. “i’ve gotten used to it. people are scared of what they don’t understand. it’s easier to focus on appearances instead.”

“the public loves appearances more than powers,” you said absentmindedly and yeosang can’t help but agree. you hear him take a breath, like he was going to say something, but changes his mind. “what? just ask what you want.”

“the helmet.”

“what about it?”

“why were you wearing it?”

“it was a security measure. the association learned that it was harder for me to use my powers if i couldn’t see, so… bye-bye sight,” you explain to him and yeosang frowns at your words.

“the… hero association isn’t bad are they?” he asks and you remain quiet for a few moments before letting out a sigh.

“not to you maybe, but i am what they label as a villain,” you say with a dry laugh. “so… yeah.”

“right,” he says with a nod before he’s watching you step away from the edge and back towards the door.

“make sure you get some sleep, yeosang, good night,” you say, leaving yeosang alone once again.

“good night, y/n.”

ateez compound – training room – morning

the training room is dimly lit, walls lined with weapons and dummies. seonghwa is sitting on the floor, stretching, while yeosang practices his summoning abilities nearby. dark shadows twist and coil around him, taking the form of skeletal figures. you lean against the wall, watching yeosang’s power with mild interest.

“so they kept you in solitary confinement?” yeosang asks, looking over to where you are leaning against the wall.

“they didn’t trust me to not use my powers on the other prisoners,” you say rather flatly.

“must have been… isolating,” he says with a small nod.

your expression flickers for a moment before you shrug, “isolations not so bad when the company’s worse.”

seonghwa snorts softly, but there’s tension in his posture. jongho enters the room, his presence grounding. he surveys the scene before turning his attention to you.

“they’re not wrong to be cautious. you’re powerful,” he says.

“careful, jongho. almost sounds like a compliment,” you say with a smirk.

“just an observation, but power doesn’t mean anything without control.”

seonghwa’s eyes flicker to you, a shadow of concern in his expression. before anyone can respond, yeosang’s shadowy figure lunges towards a dummy, striking it with force. the sound echoes, breaking the tension.

“you ever think about what you’d be doing if you weren’t here? if things were different?” yeosang asks rather casually that it almost makes you laugh at how easy-going and innocent his demeanor is.

you hesitate, your gaze turning hazing and distant for a moment, “sometimes. doesn’t change anything, though.”

seonghwa exchanges a glance with jongho, unspoken thoughts hanging heavy in the air.

ateez compound – outdoor training grounds – day

the outdoor training grounds are sprawling, surrounded by high fences in order to protect the compound from any unwanted visitors and allow its residents to easily overlook the gray sky. you and yunho are standing opposite each other on the sparring mat, the rest of the team watching from the sidelines. hongjoong has said that him and the others should get a feel of what they are working with when it comes to you, seonghwa, and san. of course, you know he thinks he’s just wasting his time. if wooyoung not voicing the fact loudly didn’t tell you anything.

“you ready?” yunho asks awkwardly, but when is he not awkward with you?

“always,” you reply flatly.

the two of you begin sparring, your movements sharp and calculated. yunho hesitates, his strikes lacking conviction and passion. you take advantage of this, knocking him off balance.

“what’s wrong, number one hero? afraid to hit me?” you taunt him.

yunho regains his footing, his jaw tightening, “of course not,” he says defensively. he lungs forward, but you counter effortlessly, your power flickering subtly around you – small bouts of red lightning appearing. yunho falters, his mind clouded with static. flashes of a memory – unclear and fragmented – flicker in his mind. he stumbles, clutching his head.

you pause, brows furrowing, “yunho?”

before you can approach, mingi’s voice cuts through the haze. “yunho! you okay?” yunho straightens, shaking off the disorientation.

“i’m fine,” he says, brushing it off like nothing happened.

you step back, your expression guarded. the sparring session resumes, but the tension is heavier now. yunho is more aggressive in his movements, as if trying to prove something, but your skills thankfully keep you ahead.

“enough! this isn’t a fight to the death,” hongjoong says from the sidelines.

yunho steps back, breathing heavily. you lower your guard, gaze lingering on him. “you’re holding back,” you say quietly.

yunho doesn’t respond, turning away. the team disperses, the unresolved tension hanging over them like a storm cloud.

ateez compound – common room – evening

mingi and yeosang are playing a game of cards at the table while seonghwa reads a book on the couch nearby. san lounges not too far from him, watching the game with mild interest. you sit in the corner by the window, eyes glued to the nature surrounding the compound. a flock of crows fly by and they have you entranced for a moment.

“you’re terrible at this,” mingi says to yeosang with a large grin on his face.

“i’m letting you win,” yeosang deadpans back at the light-user.

you glance away from the window, your gaze flickering between them and their cards.

“he cheats, you know,” you say, directing your words to yeosang. the handsome hero looks towards his teammate with wide, shocked eyes which makes mingi gasps, feigning offense.

“i do not!” he shrieks out, this causes san to chuckle from his seat as seonghwa looks up from his book, a faint smirk on his face. you know moments of peace like this are brief, but you can’t help but feel this is a small step towards a hopeful unity.

if only the others were like mingi and yeosang…

ateez compound – training room – night

you’ve grown use to hearing the hum of the machinery in the training room over the short amount of time you’ve been here. it echoing and bouncing off the walls and sparring mats. you stood near the edge of the large sparring mat, back against the wall with seonghwa next to you. his arms crossed and his shoulder brushing against yours as he whispers quiet words into your ear. the quiet promises of something later making you let out a small smile.

san sits across from you all on the floor, stretching, his broad shoulders even more prominent in the black tank top he’s wearing. he can’t help the soft grin that graces his lips as he watches you and seonghwa. “that definitely looks like training.”

you turn to look at the blood user, grinning softly, “i think we’ve had enough training for one day.”

seonghwa hums in agreement, tilting his head towards you slightly, “i agree. i’d rather just be here.”

san lets out a chuckle, rising to his feet and stepping closer to the two of you. he stops just next to you, his hands brushing lightly over your arms and it sends a chill down your spine.

“i think you look better when you’re not fighting,” san teases, making you laugh.

“i don’t fight all the time,” you say, rolling your eyes a little bit at his words, “you were always the one starting fights in prison. i was too busy being held in solitary confinement.”

“and you only came out when they threw san in,” seonghwa says, making san send a glare over the other male.

you notice seonghwa watches you and san with a calm expression, eyes soften as you can’t help but rest your forehead gently against san’s. you feel the shapeshifter’s finger tracing up your back, neck – over the damn death collar, and under your chin before he’s turning your face to look at him.

“hwa…” you call out his name softly and it feels unreal almost. like the three of you weren’t villains, but just… normal people. “i don’t know what i’d do without you both,” you add quietly as you feel seonghwa’s arms slip around your waist. seonghwa’s grip is both grounding and gentle as he pulls you towards him. you feel san pressing a light kiss to your hair and you feel your heart speed up from how close to the males are.

you haven’t been this close to them in a while and it felt nice.

seonghwa draws your attention back to him as his hand comes to brush along your cheek, lifting your chin slightly as his lips connect with yours. san hovers behind you, sandwiching you between the two, his hands resting lighting on your hips and slipping underneath your shirt, and tracing small circles into your skin.

the moment stretches, tender and unguarded, and for now you forget about the hero association, the villain alliance, hongjoong’s aggressive attitude, and even yunho’s avoid eyes. you felt normal. your fingers curl gently into seonghwa’s shirt to pull him closer to you – if that was even possible. san presses his forehead against your shoulder and you feel his lips press into your skin.

from the shadows of the door, yunho stands frozen in place. his eyes watching the intimacy between you three and he can’t help the twist in his gut at the sight. his fists clench, unclench, clench again at his sides as an unfamiliar mix of emotions flickering through him.

the room blurs slightly, but yunho can’t find it in him to look away. like he refuses to look away. heart pounding in his ears when seonghwa presses his lips to yours once more, san’s thumb grazing over your bandaged, healing skin with a sort of tenderness yunho didn’t even realize the blood user even had.

a faint static hum fills yunho’s mind. his vision distorts – flashes of static along with something distant and obscured flicker across his thoughts. he grips the doorway, feeling his breath hitch as sweat builds along his hairline. a vague image – your face, slightly younger and laughing, suddenly blurs into focus for a split second, only to fade back into the static.

his breath shudders as the static fragments slip away, leaving a dull ache in its wake. yunho’s knuckles whiten against the frame as his mind reels in so many directions.

“y…ho? yun…? yunho? you good?” mingi’s sudden voice snaps yunho out of his daze and grounds him.

the top hero stiffens a little, blinking as he turns to see his friend approaching him. yunho clears his throat and steps away from the doorway, not wanting mingi to find out he was spying on you three.

shaking the lingering ache from his mind, “yeah, i’m fine.” a fake smile appears on his face, and he hopes that mingi buys it.

“you sure?” he asks, eyes studying him and a frown faintly appearing, “you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

yunho forces a laugh, his smile still not reaching his eyes as he nods, “just tired.” his gaze shifts back towards the training room, thoughts lingering on the villains one last time. the warmth you all seem to share feels distant, like something yunho can’t reach.

as yunho walks past mingi and down the hall, his expression hardens, but the flicker of the static memory lingers. haunting and incomplete. his fingers brush briefly over his temple, the ache refusing to fade.

outskirts of seoul – itaewon district – night

the nine of you stand together at the edge of the seemingly desolate district. the supposedly once lively streets are eerily silent. when briefed about the mission originally, you were expecting to see at least some people hiding in their homes, away from the villain that is terrorizing the district. however, this place was completely deserted: broken windows, overturned cars, and abandoned belongings create an unsettling atmosphere that sends an unwanted chill down your spine. a flickering streetlight buzzes faintly in the distance and you think it only adds to unsettling tension.

hongjoong stands at the front of the group, his eyes scanning the area, “stay sharp. something’s not right here,” he says and you all nod. despite how much you don’t like hongjoong for how hostile he’s been, you have to hand it to him that he takes his captain role seriously in cases like this.

“it’s too quiet. no birds, no wind… nothing,” yeosang says, frown evident on his face as he also looks around.

you all continue to walk cautiously down the street. mingi kneels down next to an abandoned bicycle, the handlebars bent and smeared with blood. “whatever happened here wasn’t long ago,” he says, looking from the bicycle to you and the others.

suddenly, a low clicking noise echoes through the streets. everyone freezes.

“what the hell was that?” yunho asks, tensing as he clenches his fists. you look around nervously, your breath visible in the cold air. when did it suddenly get so cold?

“probably a rat,” wooyoung snickers, but you can tell he’s trying to hide his nerves, “or maybe y/n’s shadow creeping around.” you shoot him a sharp glare, but choose to say nothing. you refuse to waste your breath on him and his snide remarks.

“that’s no rat,” seonghwa whispers, eyes narrowing.

the clicking grows louder, accompanied by the sound of something wet and slithering. the sounds fill your senses as you and the team move cautiously toward the sound, weapons ready. as you turn a corner, that’s when you come across the horrific thing – a man (or what looked like a man) crouched over a pile of corpses, tearing into the flesh of his victims as blood pools around him at his feet.

you couldn’t help but let out a gasp when the man’s head suddenly snapped towards your group. no… it wasn’t man, at least not anymore, you concluded. his face had been morphed into something similar to a spider. several beady eyes and fangs protruding from his mouth, his limbs were also similar to that of a spider – long and spindly limbs which you figure made it easier for the creature to tear into flesh.

“what the fuck?” jongho grimaced, gripping his fist as the spider monster stood to his full height and let out a hiss.

“it’s a demon! be careful!” you shouted right as the demon lunged for mingi who used his light powers in defense. the demon stopped in his tracks, shielding his eyes, he let out another shrieking hiss before he’s jumping back and away into the shadows.

“why the hell is there a demon here?” jongho asks, eyes wide in surprise which matches the rest of your faces.

“i don’t know, but i have a feeling he’s not the only one here,” hongjoong says, eyes locking onto the pile of corpses the demon was just eating from. “let’s split up, this is no longer just a regular investigation mission.”

outside itaewon district – forest – night

you and wooyoung run through the dark forest, the sound of your footsteps are muffled by the damp earth beneath you. the trees are dense, casting long, twisted shadows in the dim moonlight.

“we should’ve stayed with the others. i don’t trust you watching my back,” wooyoung snarls out from slightly ahead of you.

“don’t worry, wooyoung. i wouldn’t trust me either,” you say, rolling your eyes.

wooyoung opens his mouth to retort but stops short of his remark when you both stumble into a clearing. a woman wearing a white kimono stands in the center, strands of silk coming out of her fingers and you notice she’s manipulating them. this must be the demon controlling the other spider demons. her eyes are closed, so it's hard to tell if she’s noticed you and wooyoung yet.

“this must be the main demon,” you whisper to wooyoung who nods in agreement. “we kill her and the others should die as well.”

an eerily smile then stretches onto the woman’s face, eyes snapping open and you notice that instead of regular pupils she instead has 하위다섯 – lower five – written on her eyes. “ah~ fresh prey. how delightful~ you both will be perfect additions to my family,” she says, words dripping from her mouth.

wooyoung lets out a tsk, “let’s see how delightful you find this,” he says, raising both hands and allowing both of them to easily be engulfed in ice and flames.

“she’s with the villain alliance, be careful!” you say, but wooyoung seems to ignore your warning as he unleashes streams of fire and ice, weaving them together to attack the woman. the villain lungs for wooyoung, spider limbs ripping from her back and you watch as she easily dodges all of wooyoung’s attacks. her inhuman agility easily gives the hero a run for his money.

that’s when you notice her fingers, moving and invisible silk strings glimmering slightly in the moonlight. you suck in a breath when you realize that you and wooyoung have walked right into her web. you summon a sword with your powers, shimmering red as you grip it tightly in your hold, charging at the spider villain.

you manage to cut down one of her spider limbs, black blood spraying the area around while some of it lands on your arm. you let out a hiss as the blood starts to burn. acid. her blood was acidic thanks to her powers. she lets out another hiss before directing her attention towards you now. your blade gleaming in the moonlight. the two of you clash violently, the sound of steel meeting hardened exoskeleton rings through the forest air. the woman retaliates, one of her bladed limbs slicing across your arm, drawing blood.

wooyoung suddenly appears from your peripheral, left fist covered in ice as he manages to strike her, freezing the part that wooyoung made contact with. you use wooyoung as a distraction, slashing through the silk strands before countering a powerful swing from one of her spider limbs.

“you’re not walking away from this,” wooyoung hisses out before attacking her again with his ice powers. the villain grits her teeth, silk strands whip out, wrapping around your arm and yanking you forward.

“you’re wasting your potential with these weaklings,” she says, gripping your face tightly as another strand of silk catches your other arm. you feel the strands digging into your skin and slowly dripping down your arms. “join my family.”

“not… a chance,” you hissed out before managing to headbut the villain and knocking her away. wooyoung burns the strands that held you, and you turn to give him a nod before you snap your attention back to the villain.

she lets out a high-pitched scream that shakes the trees around the clearing. her eyes begin to transform into a darker red color, teeth sharpening as the strands attached to her fingers turn a blood red.

“i am sakura, lower rank five of the twelve moons. servant to lady nicha, creator of the demons and leader of the villain alliance, and i will make sure to kill you all and bring your heads back to her on a plate!” sakura hisses out as her remaining spider limbs hoist her up above you and wooyoung.

you brace your sword while wooyoung stands next to you, both fire and ice at the ready. “like to see you try, spider-bitch.”

outside itaewon district – deeper in the forest – night

yunho and san run through the forest, breathing uneven from both villain and hero as they rush into the clearing. they manage to arrive just as you and wooyoung struggle to subdue sakura. the villain’s grotesque, spider-like form creating dangerous shadow-like figures under the moonlight, her bladed limbs slicing through the air with deadly precision.

“we’re here!” yunho shouts as him and san rush forward, “hold her off!”

“about time! she’s a damn nightmare!” wooyoung says through gritted teeth as he dodges one of sakura’s limbs.

sakura lets out an inhuman screech, her silk strands snapping like whips towards the group. you counter, slashing the threads mid-air with your glowing sword, but more strands follow, faster and more aggressive than the previous ones.

“she’s not slowing down!” you shout, dodging and slashing at several strands. so many are coming at once that you don’t even notice more of them coming from behind; however, san does. he plants his feet firmly, his blood tendrils lashing out like crimson blades, slicing through the silk strands. he extends a sharp tendril forward, wrapping it around one of sakura’s legs, and yanks her off balance.

“i’ve got her! go!” san shouts and you nod rushing towards the villain, blade raised high in the air, but sakura twists unnaturally, snapping san’s blood tendrils with her powerful limbs. she leaps into the air, flipping away from the males and lands directly in front of you. sakura thrusts one of her bladed limbs towards your chest. you dodge, but not fast enough – sakura’s limb slices across your upper arm, drawing blood.

you let out a hiss as you roll away from her, “fucking hell,” you mutter, glaring at the spider villain who has a malicious smile stretching across her face.

you easily shrug off the pain, swinging your sword with calculated fury, sparks flying as the blade clashes against sakura’s hardened limbs. each strike grows more vicious, the forest ground beneath you splattered with dirt, blood, and silk.

yunho then comes rushing in, “stay back, y/n!” he barrels into sakura with his shoulder, sending her sprawling to the ground. he stands in front of you, his fists flowing faintly with energy.

“a hero protecting a villain? how sweet. too bad i’ll have to kill you both!” sakura snarls out tauntingly. she then lunges, her blades arms spinning in a flurry of strikes. yunho ducks and counters, landing a glowing punch that sends her reeling.

“now!” yunho shouts to san who nods.

san forms a massive spear from both his own blood and what’s already been spilled and hurls it with deadly precision. it impales sakura’s shoulder, pinning her to a tree. he then hurls several smaller ones into her body to keep her from trying to get free.

“do it now! take her down before she gets free!” san shouts urgently to you. you sprint forward, sword glowing brighter as your power surges. but sakura, even pinned, refuses to go down easily it seems. she lets out a screech and pulls herself free, shattering the tree behind her and even leaving several large holes in her body.

“you’ll have to try harder than that!” sakura snarls with a laugh.

“how the fuck is she still alive?!” wooyoung shouts, annoyed.

“you have to aim for the neck when it comes to demons,” yunho tells him.

suddenly, sakura summons more spider demons, their grotesque forms crawling from the shadows of the forest. all bearing a striking resemblance to sakura herself. wooyoung steps up, unleashing a fiery explosion that engulfs several of them.

“i’ve got the small ones. you three handle her!” he shouts before having two more spider demons engulfed in flames with loud screeches.

san and yunho close in on sakura, attacking in unison. san uses his blood tendrils to ensnare her limbs, while yunho lands precise strikes on her half regenerated torso, forcing her back.

sakura leaps into the trees, her movements becoming even more fast and erratic. you follow her, launching herself into the air with a burst of power.

“you’re not getting away!” you shout, swinging your sword mid-air, narrowly missing sakura as the villain flips backward. they land in a small clearing, separated from the others.

sakura smirks, her bladed limbs ready for another attack, “you’re persistent, but you’re just a pawn, same as me.”

“we are nothing alike,” you say, gritting your teeth and charging again, sword blazing. you land a powerful slash across sakura’s abdomen, black blood spilling onto the ground and just barely missing you. sakura screams in rage and pain, movements becoming more erratic and less precise.

yunho and san catch up, cornering sakura from opposite sides. san skewers one of her limbs with his blood tendrils, holding her in place, while yunho delivers a devastating punch to her mid section, you even hear her exoskeleton cracking.

“we need to immobilize her! take her into custody for the hero association!” yunho shouts to you. you approach sakura, sword trembling in your hands from the amount of energy this fight has taken. that’s when your eyes meet sakura’s.

you see a wave of panic flood her eyes as she begins struggling to free herself. “kill me! you have to kill me!” her voice desperate and pleading. it catches the three of you off guard at her sudden tone change.

“what?” you say, sword gripped tightly in your hand.

“she’ll find me! lady nicha will do worse than death! please, just kill me!” her words screaming and bouncing off the trees surrounding the clearing.

you hesitate, sword hovering at sakura’s neck. the conflict in your eyes is clear as sakura’s pleas echo in your ears. her pleas sounding hauntingly familiar to those you have heard before.

yunho notices the hesitation in your stance, “y/n, don’t hesitate–

before anyone can act, sakura seizes your sword with her remaining limb and makes a clean swipe at her neck. the blade cuts through her neck, head being severed from her body as they both collapse, lifeless. blood sprays across your body, her blood staining your face and hands.

you stand frozen, staring at sakura’s body. “she… she killed herself,” you whisper, shaken at the sight.

san steps forward in an attempt to comfort you, his expression softening. “y/n, it's not your fault–

you flinch and push him away, stumbling back. you turn to face both san and yunho with wide and shaken eyes. yunho stares at your bloodied face, “y/n–

suddenly, yunho grabs his head, a sharp pain overtaking him as his vision fills with static, distorted images flashing before his eyes. he sees fragments of you, blood across your face, but instead of fear you look almost… emotionless. dead.

“no…” he groans, clutching his head in pain, “not again.” he collapses to his knees right as wooyoung joins the three in the clearing. he rushes up to yunho, panic on his face as he shakes his shoulder.

“yunho! what’s happening?” the elemental hero asks, voice also full of panic.

yunho doesn’t respond, his mind consumed by the visions. meanwhile, you still remain frozen, staring at your blood-covered hands. the clearing is silent except for the rustling of the wind and the faint distant calls of the others calling for their four teammates and the cawing of a single crow.

infinity castle – ██████

the infinity castle groaned with restless energy, its every moving labyrinth walls shifting in different patterns under the glow of several thousand orange lanterns. at the heart of it all, lady nicha stood on a platform, exuding a dominance that was godlike.

karina, seated beside her with her bipa resting gracefully in her lap, plucked a melancholic melody from its strings. the mournful tune filled the endless castle dimension, heavy and foreboding, stirring unease in the very air.

“karina. call them.”

without a word, karina’s fingers plucked a singular cord. several hanok doors appeared, sliding open and summoning the lower rank moons. one-by-one they stood on the platform above nicha, her cold gaze watching them intently. they all knelt down, heads bowed low, trembling beneath the weight of nicha’s presence and stare.

the woman surveyed them with disdain, her eyes narrowing as she looked over them. her voice, calm but laced with venom, shattered the silence. “sakura was killed. why is it that you demons in the lower ranks are so utterly weak? the upper ranks of the twelve moons have remained unchanged. how many times have you been replaced?”

that’s easy for you to say, but we… one of the lower moons thought.

“that’s easy for you to say, but we…” nicha says, repeating the demon’s thoughts. “what? go ahead and say it.” her eyes piercing down at the lower moon with her red eyes.

i’m screwed! they thought, body trembling.

“screwed how?”

the air grew impossibly cold, the shadows on the walls twisting with sudden ferocity. her expression darkened, her crimson eyes gleaming with a silent fury. suddenly, a grotesque tendril appeared and attacked the lower moon, raising him upside down in the air. his eyes wide in fear, but had no opportunity to scream as the tendril shredded through him. blood pooling down blew and covering both the platform and remaining lower moons.

nicha then turns her attention to one of the other lower moons, “every time you cross paths with a hero you run. the only thing on your mind is to escape it's an embarrassment to the villain alliance.”

the demon immediately began trying to explain herself, saying how she repeatedly puts her life on the line for lady nicha and her cause.

“are you… calling me a liar?” nicha’s voice reverberates through the chamber, each syllable a knife carving into the demon’s hysteric composure. the music from karina’s bipa continued to play with a sharper edge. the grotesque tendril immediately crushed the lower moon with its weight. her blood spraying the remaining three lower moons with blood.

before nicha could continue her slaughter on the lower moons, the lower third suddenly dashes away. his demon speed taking him away from the platform he was originally summoned on and further into the infinity castle.

the only option is to run! he thought as he jumped from one sideways roof to another.

a sudden slash was heard before the lower moon’s head was clutched in nicha’s head, dripping blood as his dead eyes stared at the remaining too.

“i believe the twelve moons are better off consisting of just the upper ranks. i am now dismantling the lower ranks.”

nicha then effortlessly tosses the severed head down onto the other platform. the head hitting the wooden ground with a thump! and rolling slightly before coming to a sudden stop.

“do you have any last words?”

“i can still be of use to you, lady nicha! if you were to just give me more of your blood then–

“what makes you think you can order me to give you my blood?”

“you misunderstand! you misunderstand!”

“shut up. i misunderstand nothing. i’m never mistaken about anything. my word is absolute,” nicha’s eyes began to glow as she continued to look at the lower moon, “you tried to tell me what to do, yet you are the worthless one. you deserve to die.”

lower moon one, yena, is suddenly the only one left, her face covered in the blood of her previous fellow lower moons. yet, she continues to look up at lady nicha with more adoration than fear. eyes glazed over.

“do you have any last words?” nicha asks, looking at the demon.

“if i am to die by your hand, my lady, then i am honored~ you have given me everything. my strength, my purpose… my life. if i am unworthy, than i would rather die by your hand than live in disgrace~”

nicha paused, her fury momentarily eclipsed by curiosity. her crimson eyes narrowed as she regarded the unshaken demon.

“honored, are you?” the dimension fell silent. but the silence didn’t last long when a fleshy, grotesque tendril came down from above and stabbed yena in the neck. injecting the lower moon with some of nicha’s blood. yena suddenly fell to the floor and began to thrash and convulse, letting out a guttural cry.

“that’s what i like to hear~” nicha said, a faint cold smile twitching upon her lips for a split second. she seemed to gain some sick satisfaction at watching yena convulse on the ground beneath her. “i’ll give you an ample share of my blood. make yourself useful to me, then. if you kill the female villain who works with the heroes then i will give you even more of my blood. failure is not an option.”

yena could only let out a gurgled noise in response. karina plucked several notes on her bipa. with each note a hanok door appeared and shut, separating nicha from yena who struggled on the ground. one final note plucked and a door appeared underneath yena, opening and whisking her away and back to wherever she was prior.

ACT II: MUHAN TRAIN

busan district – train station – night

the moon hangs low in the night sky, its pale light illuminating the quiet train station. mingi walks over to the entrance, his boots crunching the gravel underneath. he adjusts his gloves and scans the area. the train station is quiet, almost abandoned of human life as he steps inside to look around. there’s a single light glowing warmly in the place. there’s no one at the counter, too dangerous to be out at night anymore.

he remembers hongjoong briefing him on the mission: investigate the train that had twenty passengers suddenly vanish without a trace. the association think its the work of a high-level villain. mingi though? he’s not entirely sure anymore, especially after dealing with sakura back in the itaewon district.

“this place gives me the creeps,” he mutters under his breath. the faint sound of a train whistle echoes through the distance. mingi frowns as he feels a chill run directly down his spine. he looks around cautiously, his heightened senses on alert.

mingi comes to the conclusion that this sleepy town looks like it forgot the concept of daylight. the streets are dimly lit, and most of the windows are closed, not a single outside soul able to see what goes on inside. he stops in front of a rundown looking diner and enters to see a few locals gathered about the place. the bell above the door jingles half-heartedly at his arrival.

the smell of stale coffee and grease fills and lingers in the air. mingi approaches the counter where an elderly waitress, face lined with years of worry, greets him.

“you’re not from around here, are you?” her voice is hushed as she looks over mingi’s appearance, his natural stark white hair making him easily stand out amongst the locals.

mingi shakes his head, “i’m here about the train. heard anything strange?” his words catch the gazes of the other patrons who look nervous.

the waitress hesitates before leaning closer, her voice low and trembling, “it’s not just the train. there’s someone… something. we call him ‘the slasher.’”

mingi straightens, brows furrowing, “the slasher?” he repeats.

“attacks people at night. leaves them… torn apart. no one’s seen his face. some think he’s a legend at this point.”

“and you’re sure it’s not connected to the train?” mingi asks, hands tightening into fists. the waitress shakes her head, glancing towards the door nervously.

“no, but he’s just as dangerous.”

suddenly, a loud crash comes from outside. mingi bolts to the door, throwing it open to see a figure standing under a flickering streetlight.

mingi assumes this is the slasher the waitress told him about. the figure stands tall, shrouded in darkness. his mask is stitched together with mismatched pieces of leath, and his hands are tipped with sharp, metallic claws. mingi thinks he just walked straight out of a horror film. a terrified civilian is pinned against the wall beside him, struggling to break free.

“leave, hero, or they bleed,” the slasher hissed out, beady eyes staring straight at mingi.

mingi steps forward, unshaken by the threat, “let them go. now!”

the slasher tilts his head, amused. he tosses the civilian back, who lets out a cry, before lunging towards mingi with surprising speed. the villain swipes his claws in a flurry, each strike aiming for mingi’s vital points. mingi is able to duck and dodge with precision, his combat skills sharp and deliberate like any high-class hero.

“is that all you’ve got?” mingi asks grinning.

mingi retaliates, delivering a powerful kick that sends the slasher flying into a pile of crates. the villain recovers quickly, leaping into the air and slashing downward. mingi rolls out of the way, his fist glowing faintly with his light energy. the alley becomes a quick battlefield, the slasher’s claws leave deep gouges in the brick walls. meanwhile, mingi counters with precise strikes that force the villain to become defensive.

“you’re faster than the others, but you won’t leave here alive,” the villain taunts, a maniacal laugh leaving his lips.

“we’ll see about that,” mingi says. the hero charges, his energy-infused punch connecting with the slasher’s chest. the impact sends a shockwave through the alley, shattering nearby windows. the slasher stumbles, his claws sending sparks flying as they scrape the ground.

realizing he’s outmatched, the slasher attempts to flee. mingi chases him through the streets, their movements a blur of speed and violence.

the fight ends at the edge of town, where mingi finally subdues the slashes. with a final punch, he knocks the villain unconscious, leaving him crumpled on the ground. the first rays of sunlight peak over the horizon, bathing the scene in a faint golden glow. mingi wipes sweat from his brow, breathing heavily.

“one down. now for the train,” he says to himself as he goes to connect the hero association so they can deal with the villain that lays on the ground.

busan district – train station – sunrise

mingi approaches the train station once again. this time instead of being abandoned, he notices a person at the ticket booth. he walks up to the older woman who simply smiles at him.

“the muhan train… is it running?” he asks.

“oh, yes! they sent her back from the train yard last night,” she explains and mingi is surprised by the news, but if this means he can figure out the mystery surrounding it then…

“three tickets, please,” mingi says, holding up three fingers. the older woman lets out a chuckle as she gets the three tickets ready. mingi pays the woman before thanking her.

he pockets the tickets and turns, spotting a familiar figure waiting for him near the platform – yunho, with you standing a few feet behind, your expression unreadable. mingi is honestly surprised that hongjoong sent the two of you on this mission with him considering the results of the last mission.

“took you long enough,” yunho says, nodding towards his friend.

“ran into some… distractions,” mingi said with a smile. you glance towards him, your eyes briefly flickering down to the faint scratches on his arm.

“looks like you’ve been busy,” you say, crossing your arms. mingi chuckles, brushing your comment off as approaches you.

“don’t worry about it. let’s go. we’ve got a train to catch,” he says, handing you and yunho your tickets. the train whistle suddenly blows and the three of you board before it begins to move, carrying you all to your next destination.

muhan train – passenger car – night

the train hums steadily as you, mingi, and yunho sit in a modest, warmly lit passenger car. one of the overhead lights flicker softly, making your eye twitch every time it does. a few other passengers sit scattered throughout the car, their light chatter fills the air peacefully.

“the hero association thinks it’s a demon,” yunho’s voice is low as he leans forward, “it’s the only explanation for twenty people vanishing without a trace.”

“a demon on a train? sounds like something out of a horror movie,” mingi says with a frown, his eyes darting from yunho to you to see your reaction.

“except this one’s real,” you said seriously, expression void of any possible emotion.

the three of you glance around the car. the other passengers seem oblivious, but there’s an undeniable tension in the air that you’re positive these civilians are ignoring. ignorance is bliss afterall, you think. a conductor enters, punching tickets as he moves down the aisle. his movements are stiff, mechanical, and his face gaunt, with dark circles under his eyes. like he hasn’t slept in days, weeks.

the conductor then approaches your row.

“tickets, please,” he says monotonously. yunho hands over your tickets and the tired man punches them with robotic precision, his hands trembling slightly.

“you look exhausted,” you say, observing the conductor quietly. the man hesitates but doesn’t respond. he finishes punching the tickets and moves on, his shoulders sagging under an invisible weight. you watch him leave, a small frown tugging your lips.

“you ever feel like we’re the ones who need a break?” mingi asks, stretching and letting out a yawn a little too loudly.

“maybe after we survive this,” you say, smiling faintly.

mingi chuckles, leaning back in his seat. the train’s gentle rocking starts to lull you three into a drowsy state.

“wake me if the demon shows up,” mingi says, stifling another yawn. you can’t help but also let out a small yawn, eyes feeling heavy and tired as you tilt your head back against the seat. eyes closing.

muhan train – abandon passenger car – night

the conductor steps into a dim, smoke-filled room. a large mirror reflects distorted shapes of the cabin you and the others are in. yena stands before the mirror, draped in a dark, flowing outfit with theatrical accents of feathers and embroidered stars. her piercing, icy blue eyes gleam the words 아래하나 – lower one – read where her pupils should be, and her smile is predatory, exuding both elegance and malice. she’s clearly not human, not anymore at least.

“welcome back, my loyal friend~” she speaks softly, with a mock bow towards the conductor.

“i did what you asked. can i… can i rest now? can i be with my family now?” he asks pleadingly.

yena tilts her head, “of course. i always reward devotion,” she steps closer, placing her gloved hand over his chest. a strange light emanates from her hand as the conductor's body stiffens. his head tilts back, and his eyes close.

“dream deeply,” she whispers. his body collapses like a marionette with its strings cut.

yena turns to the mirror, which now shows glowing tendrils snaking into the train’s walls. she lets out a deep laugh, “let’s see what their hearts desire most!” she says to herself, throwing her hands in the air in a large theatrical movement.

████ – beach – sunset

you let out a gasp, eyes snapping open and you find yourself standing on a beach. it’s peaceful and you can see the waves glittering under the warm sunset. san and seonghwa are beside you, both dressed casually and laughing. san reaches over, brushing sand off her arm with a grin.

“you’re terrible at building sandcastles,” he says with a smirk.

seonghwa lets out a chuckle, “more like demolishing them,” he says teasingly.

you let out a laugh, your voice feeling light and free like you’ve been this way your entire life. the three of you sit together, looking out at the horizon. san wraps an arm around your shoulder, while seonghwa offers you a soda.

“i’m glad we decided to take this vacation, get away from the city,” seonghwa says softly.

san nods, “just us.”

you feel your smile falter for a moment, a faint sense of wrongness creeps in. you look down at your hands, which are clean and unscarred – too perfect.

“this… isn’t right.”

daegu district – the song residence – day

mingi stands outside a small house, holding a certificate in one hand and dressed in his pristine hero uniform. when he walks inside he sees his parents sitting inside the cozy living room, their figures illuminated by warm light.

“mom, dad, i did it! i’m a hero now!” he says to them excitedly before talking about everything he has done in order to be recognized by the hero association. they both glance up, faces unreadable. his mother gives him a small, distracted smile before returning to her knitting.

“that’s nice, honey,” she says, voice flat and with no emotion.

his father barely looks up from his newspaper, “don’t forget to take out the trash.”

mingi’s expression falters, his face full of confusion and hurt which flickers in his eyes.

seoul district – cherry blossom tree park – day

the seoul district was bustling with life, students, faculty, and regular civilians alike enjoying the warm spring breeze that carried the faint scent of flowers. but what captured everyone’s attention the most were the cherry blossom trees scattered across the park’s main road. their petals glowing faintly under the soft sunlight.

it was the height of cherry blossom season – or so it appeared.

yunho smiled as he glanced at you walking beside him, your gaze fixed on the pink and white blossoms overhead. you had always had a particular fondness for things like this, where the world seemed to pause just enough to let beauty shine through.

“i told you this would be worth it,” yunho said, his voice tinged with pride. “i knew you’d like it.”

you slowed your steps, eyes narrowing slightly as you studied the trees more closely. your lips quirked into a small, curious frown. “they’re… not real.”

yunho looked at you with wide eyes, heart sinking at your words, “what?”

you gestured toward one of the branches, where the faint flicker of light betrayed its holographic nature. “they’re projections. pretty sure, but not real cherry blossoms.”

yunho let out a soft groan, running a hand through his hair. “i’m sorry, y/n. i thought… i didn’t realize. i just wanted to—

“yunho, stop,” you say, turning to him and cutting him off with a gentle smile. “it’s okay. you went out of your way to do something sweet for me, and that means more than whether the blossoms are real or not.”

your words lifted a weight off of yunho’s shoulders and warmed his heart and body like how you usually manage to do to him. yunho rubbed the back of his neck, ears turning bright red as he struggled to find the words to respond with. “i… i just thought you’d like it,” he mumbles, avoiding your gaze.

“and i do,” you replied, “especially since i’m here with you,” your tone as sincere as the sparkle in your eyes.

the two of you began walking along the path that curved beneath the cherry blossoms, their petals shimmering softly in the breeze. yunho couldn’t help but keep sneaking glances at you, his heart beating a little faster every time she laughed or pointed out something that caught her interest.

as they passed a family sitting on a nearby bench, your attention was drawn to a child tugging at their parent’s sleeve. “i wish they were real,” the child said wistfully, staring up at the holographic blossoms.

you slowed your pace, expression unreadable. yunho noticed but said nothing, assuming your silence was related to quiet disappointment.

“ready to go?” he asked once you reached the far end of the path.

“yeah, but i need to use the bathroom first,” you said quickly, darting off before he could respond.

yunho chuckled, shaking his head as he made his way to a nearby bench beneath one of the holographic trees.

but then the ground began to rumble.

yunho immediately shot to his feet, instincts kicking in as he scanned the area for danger. the tremors grew stronger, causing people to cry out and scramble for safety. students began to murmur about a potential villain attack, and yunho was already calculating how to evacuate everyone if needed.

but before panic could fully set in, something else happened.

the holographic trees flickered out of existence, their light dimming until they vanished completely. in their place, real cherry blossom trees burst from the ground, their roots spreading as their branches stretched towards the sky. petals began to cascade like rain, painting the park in shades of pink and white.

yunho was speechless, his breath catching as he took in the sight. the blossoms swayed gently in the breeze, their delicate scent filling the air. it was more beautiful than what he could have ever imagined, almost otherworldly in its perfection.

“wow!” your voice broke through his trance, and he turned to see you approaching with a wide smile. “look at them!” you stopped beside him, your gaze fixated on the blossoms above. “beautiful, aren’t they, yunho?”

there was something in your tone, a quiet pride that made him look at you instead of the trees. your eyes sparkled with mischief, and he felt a pang of realization hit him.

“you…” he started, voice trailing off.

“hmm? what are you saying?” you asked innocently, tilting your head as if you hadn’t just performed a miracle.

yunho opened his mouth to respond, but the words caught in his throat. instead, he shook his head with a soft laugh. “nothing. forget it.”

you grinned, clearly amused. “oh! before we leave, we should get ––––– a keychain. he’ll never let me hear the end of it if we don’t bring him something.”

yunho looked at you with confusion written over his face as your voice began to become static. especially when you spoke of someone else’s name.

“who?” he asked and you looked at him with equal confusion.

“––––––”

yunho suddenly felt a pain rush through his head, he heard you let out a soft gasp as you touched his arm. his vision being overcomed with static as he saw flashes of different images.

“yunho? are you okay?” your voice panicked as the pain slowly began to subside from his head.

he shook his head as he straightened up, “yeah, sure,” he replied with a tight lipped smile. you looked at him with wide, innocent eyes before nodding at him. you grabbed his arm in order to pull him towards the park gift shop.

as you both walked through the park, now alive with real cherry blossoms, yunho couldn’t help but steal one last glance at you. you were radiant, laughter ringing out like music, and for a brief moment, he forgot about everything else.

all he could think about was how much he wanted this moment to last forever.

████ – beach – sunset

you feel a sense of unease grow as you stand up. you take a step away from san and seonghwa, your gaze sharpening.

“this isn’t real.”

san grabs your arm, his grip firm. your eyes look from his hand to his eyes. “stay, please,” he says.

“don’t you want to stay here? with us?” seonghwa asks firmly.

you hesitate for a moment, pain flickering across your face, but you push san away as you take off running down the beach. you need to wake up, who knew what the demon will do if you don’t do it soon.

there has to be an end to this place, you conclude as you summon your sword. the red metal glittering in the setting sun as you run along the sand. you figure if you run in a straight line then you should hit the end eventually. right?

“y/n!” you freeze in your tracks at the sudden voice. you feel a chill run down your spine at the familiar voice. what? you feel your breath getting heavy as you hear the person’s footsteps coming closer to you.

“where are you going? don’t you want to stay here? with me?”

you hesitate for a moment before turning to see him standing not too far from you. you feel tears begin to well up in your eyes at the sight of him. you feel a part of you pulling towards him, to stay like he wants. like what you want.

you shake your head, “i’m sorry. there’s people i have to protect.”

he lets out a laugh as he tilts his head, “i’ll see you later then.”

you nod your head, looking down at your sword before getting an idea. raising your sword, you plunge it into your chest. the dream shattering like glass.

muhan train – passenger car – night

you wake with a gasp, face pale and sweat-drenched. around you, the passengers are asleep, faces twisted in an unnatural serenity. you shake yunho and mingi in an attempt to wake them, but they remain unresponsive.

“damnit! you bastards, wake up!” you hiss before summoning your sword and searching for the demon that was responsible for this.

muhan train – train roof – night

you climb onto the roof, the cold wind biting at your skin. yena stands there, her dark cloak billowing out dramatically. she looks at you with surprise before it transforms into a menacing grin.

“awake already? how rude of you to leave the dream i tailored so carefully.”

“let’s skip the theatrics,” you say, gripping your sword tightly.

“oh, darling, i am the theatrics,” she says with a chuckle. yena strikes first, her movement fluid and almost dance-like. you block her attacks with your sword, red sparks flying with every clash. yena’s attacks are graceful but deadly, her nails cutting into your arm.

“i could give you everything. no more blood, no more pain. just… bliss,” she tells you, tone playful.

you grit your teeth, “i’ll take reality over your lies.” the fight grows more brutal, with blood spraying as yena’s claws grazes your cheek. you retaliate with a slash across yena’s torso, the villain staggering briefly before smiling.

the battle intensifies, you pushing through your injuries. finally, you land your sword where her neck lies and sever her head. yena’s head rolls along the roof of the train, body falling to her knees. but yena smirks

“you think this ends here?” yena asks, smiling as blood pours everywhere.

the train begins to twist and transform, metal screeching as it takes on a grotesque, almost living form. yena’s head attached itself to a flesh tendril as she laughs down at you. her body clapping at the scene before it.

“what the hell?”

muhan train – train roof – night

the cold wind howls, whipping through your hair as you stand on the roof of the speeding train. you grip your sword tightly, blood dripping from a shallow cut on her arm. the moonlight casts an eerie glow on yena, whose cloak billows unnaturally, as if alive. her sharp features are accentuated by the shadows, and her sly smile reveals teeth too sharp to be human.

“look at you. so determined. so angry. it’s almost… endearing,” yena speaks, mockingly towards you. you narrow your eyes, sword steady in your hands.

“you’re done terrorizing these people.”

“oh, darling, i’ve only just begun~” she replies with a smirk.

yena lunges with inhuman speed, her hands slicing through the air like claws. you dodge, barely missing the lethal swipe, and retaliate with a quick slash of your sword. sparks fly as the blade connects with yena’s clock, but the fabric seems to absorb the impact, leaving her unharmed.

you let out a quick cuss as yena spins, her movements fluid and unnervingly elegant, landing a kick to your side. you stumble but quickly regain your footing, slashing upward. this time, the blade grazes yena’s arm, drawing dark, ink-colored blood.

“how rude,” yena hisses out, she attacks back. her claws slashing across your shoulder. blood sprays onto the roof, and you grit your teeth, refusing to show weakness.

muhan train – passenger car – night

inside, yunho jerks awake, his vision blurry and disoriented. around him, the other passengers remain unconscious, their faces peaceful yet unsettling. he notices the grotesque, flesh-like tendrils snaking along the walls and ceiling – pulsing veins of flesh and metal intertwining.

“what the hell…” he says to himself. a sudden groan shakes the train as the walls ripple, the train itself coming alive in the moment. yunho stumbles toward the back, his instincts and years of training kicking in.

muhan train – train roof – night

the fight between you and yena escalates. the demon’s movements grow more erratic, her strikes faster and more lethal. you counter with calculated blocks, your sword glowing faintly as you channel your powers into it. you manage to land a deep slash across yena’s chest, causing the villain to stagger.

but yena only laughs, her voice echoing unnaturally, “you’re strong~ i’ll give you that. but you’re still so… mortal.”

she raises her arms, the train beneath you begins to twist and convulse. you stumble as the roof warps under your feet. yena’s body shifts, her legs melting into the train.

“you’re on my turf now, nameless.”

the train screeches as more of the flesh and metal tendrils burst from the sides, snaking towards you. you slash at them, severing a few, but more only take their place.

“yunho! mingi! protect the passengers!” you shout, hoping that at one if not both of them are awake by now. hopefully, they found a way to wake up.

you see movement behind you, and turn to see yunho now on the roof. “we’re not leaving you!” he shouts.

“just do it!”

yunho hesitates, but a sharp tendril lashes towards him. he ducks and retreats, heading inside to protect the passengers.

muhan train – living nightmare train car – night

the interior of the train shifts and slowly becomes unrecognizable. walls pulsate with fleshy growths, and even grotesque eyes and mouths form sporadically, watching and whispering. mingi wakes up to this sudden nightmare, body stiff from the unnatural slumber. he shakes his head as he grabs a nearby pole for support to stand up.

“what the hell is going on?” he asks, looking around completely horrified. “this really is a horror movie!”

yunho runs towards him, slamming a tendril aside with his fist. “mingi, help me! we need to protect the passengers!”

mingi nods, steeling himself, and the two begin tearing tendrils away from the unconscious passengers. managing to destroy and burn away the grotesque flesh that covered the car walls.

muhan train – train roof – night

you fight with everything you have. slashing through webs of tendrils, your body bleeding from multiple cuts. the train’s transformation has made the fight infinitely harder – yena is everywhere.

“you can’t kill what’s become eternal, little villain,” yena sneers.

you grit your teeth, sword glowing bright as you channel more energy into it. “watch me.” you then drive your blade into the train roof, sending a shockwave through the mutated structure. yena screams, momentarily destabilized, as parts of the train begin to reverie to normal.

muhan train – living nightmare train car – night

yunho and mingi manage to protect the last of the passengers, securing each of the passenger cars.

yunho looked up, “do you think y/n is doing okay?”

mingi looks up as well, “she’s stronger than all of us put together, yunho. she’s got this.”

yunho licks his lips at mingi’s words, “i hope so, for her sake especially.”

muhan train – train roof – night

you continue to fight, your injuries mounting. yena, now more monstrous than human, laughs as her tendrils lash out. you dodge, though one catches your side, slamming you into the roof. you let out a couch, blood splattering onto the metal.

yena leans closer to you, “you’re resilient, i’ll give you that. but you’re only delaying the inevitable.”

you grip your sword tightly, glaring at the demon, “inevitable? maybe, but i’ll still win.”

with a roar, you lunge forward, slashing wildly. the blade glows brighter with each strike, curing through yena’s defenses. finally, you spot yena’s neck – embedded deep within the train’s core. you leap into the air, bringing your sword down in one final, desperate strike.

“die already!” you scream out. the blade servers yena’s neck, and the demon lets out a bloodcurdling scream as her body begins to disintegrate. the train convulse violently, throwing you to side.

the power behind your attack has the training derailing, lying on its side in a broken heap. passengers awaken slowly, groggy but alive. yunho helps some of them out while mingi finds you thrown on the other side of the tracks, bleeding heavily.

derailment site – night

the area is silent except for the crackling of smoldering wreckage from the now derailed train. mingi crouches beside you, helping you sit up after having been thrown off the train, your blood-soaked clothes sticking to her skin. you wince as he carefully presses a piece of torn fabric against her side to staunch the bleeding.

“stay still, y/n. you’ve lost too much blood already.”

you grimace, “you’re one to talk… you’re just as banged up.”

“you’re way worse off. besides, someone’s gotta keep you alive.”

the moment of tense peace between you both is shattered by the sound of slow, deliberate footsteps crunching on gravel. a figure emerges from the shadows – a man with a sharp, predatory grin and glowing crimson eyes that read 상위삼 – upper three. the demon from the villain alliance, you conclude, strolls forward. his movements are unnervingly casual, his aura radiating just as menacingly.

“well, well. looks like i just missed the show, huh?”

mingi quickly stands, stepping protectively in front of you, “who are you?”

the demon lets out a mocking laugh, “aw, you don’t recognize me? i’m hurt. yeonjun, upper rank three of the villain alliance. and you… you’re mingi, right? the loud and flashy one.”

“if you’re looking for a fight, you’re got one.”

you struggle to push yourself up, your hand gripping your sword tightly. “mingi, don’t—

mingi turns to you, “stay down, y/n. you’re in no shape to fight.”

“you can’t take him on alone! don’t be stupid!”

“don’t worry. i’ve got this. after this, we’ll go get something good to eat, okay?” he says, smiling reassuringly to you. you hesitate, jaw tightening, but you finally nod, clutching your wound as you watch mingi step forward.

“oh, this is gonna be fun,” yeonjun says with a grin.

mingi charges first, throwing a heavy punch aimed at yeonjun’s face. the demon dodged effortlessly, countering with a kick to mingi’s stomach that sends him skidding back.

“is that all you’ve got?” he laugh, “come on hero, show me some real power!”

mingi doesn’t respond, rushing back in with a flurry of punches and kicks. his fists land solid blows on yeonjun’s chest, but the demon barely flinches, his wounds healing almost instantly.

“you’re strong, i’ll give you that. but you’re holding back. still clinging to your humanity.” yeonjun strikes back, his claws raking across mingi’s arm, leaving deep gashes. blood splatters onto the ground, but mingi doesn’t falter. he lands a powerful uppercut that sends yeonjun staggering.

“humanity’s what makes me stronger than you,” mingi says proudly.

“oh, please! don’t give me that righteous crap. you’d be unstoppable as a demon. think about it – we could fight like this forever! no limits, no consequences. just endless battles!”

“not interested.”

the fight intensifies, with mingi and yeonjun exchanging brutal blows. mingi’s knuckles are raw and bleeding, and his breathing grows labored. yeonjun, meanwhile, remains eerily unscathed, his wounds closing as quickly as they open. you watch from the sidelines, clutching your side. your eyes dart between the two fighters, your frustration building as you realize mingi is starting to falter.

“mingi, stop! you’re gonna get yourself killed!” you shout, panic running through your body and tone. yeonjun smirks, his claws glowing faintly with a dark energy.

“she’s right, you know. you can’t win this.” the demon lunges, his claws piercing through mingi’s chest. blood pours from the wound as mingi gasps, his body jerking in shock.

“no!” you scream, terror running through your body. you reach forward, wound shooting a sharp pain through your being and you fall forward.

despite the mortal injury, mingi musters the last of his strength, his fist glows with energy. he slams it into yeonjun’s face, sending the demon flying backwards. the villain lands with a grunt, momentarily stunned, but his body begins to regenerate almost instantly.

“you really are stubborn. i’ll give you that, but this? this is just sad,” he says disappointedly.

mingi collapses to his knees, blood dripping from his lips as his strength finally gives out. you manage to stumble to your feet, sword in hand, vision swimming from blood loss.

yeonjun notices the faint glow of the horizon as the sun begins to rise. his expression shifts from amusement to alarm. he then starts running back into the dense forest, you wobbling after him shouting.

“you… you bastard! you coward! come back and finish this!” you say staggering forward and making it to the forest line.

“you think i’m running from you? that’s cute,” he laughs as he gets further and further away.

you, in a desperate move, throw your sword. the blade slices through the air and impales yeonjun’s chest. the demon falters, yanking the sword out with a grimace before fully disappearing into the shadows.

“you coward!” you scream with as much strength as you could muster.

derailment site – sunrise

you stumble back towards mingi, falling to your knees in front of him. his breathing is shallow, his face pale. you press your hands against his chest, trying to stop the bleeding.

“st-stay with me, mingi. come on, you promised me food, remember? you can’t back out now,” you tell him panicking.

mingi smiles faintly, his voice barely a whisper, “are… are the passengers safe?”

you feel tears begin to build up in your eyes, “yeah. they’re safe. you did it.”

yunho arrives, climbing over the other side of the tracks after having helped the passengers and contacted the association. what was a look of relief turns into sheer horror as he sees mingi’s condition.

“mingi! no, no, no!” he drops to his knees in front of his friend and beside you, trying desperately to heal him, but it’s too late.

“take care of her. and… don’t let each other skip any meals.” with one final breath, mingi goes still.

yunho lets out a loud sob, screaming into the sky as he calls out to mingi, his best friend. “mingi! no! please!”

you sit silently in front of mingi, tears streaming down your face as you stare at your blood-covered hands. you look up to see a lone crow circling above them, its caw echoing in the still morning air.

ACT III: WINTER IS COMING

daegu district – funeral hall - day

the room is quiet, filled with somber faces and the scent of white lilies. a framed photo of mingi rests at the front, surrounded by wreaths from both family, friends, the hero association, and mingi’s fans. yunho and hongjoong stand near the back, dressed in black suits, their expressions tense and heavy.

yunho’s jaw is tight as he glances towards mingi’s parents at the front of the hall. his mother dabs a handkerchief at her eyes, while his father gaze stays locked on the floor, one hand around his wife’s shoulder and the other clenched into a fist at his side.

“have you talked to them yet?” yunho asks, whispering to hongjoong.

“no,” hongjoong says flatly. yunho frowns but doesn’t press further.

daegu district – outside funeral hall – after the service

the crowd slowly began to thin, eventually leaving only yunho, hongjoong, and mingi’s parents. the four stand in the funeral home’s quiet garden. tension hangs thick in the air as mingi’s father finally speaks.

“you have some nerve showing your faces here,” mr. song spits out angrily at the two heroes.

yunho steps forward, his voice steady but strained. “we’re here to pay our respects.”

“respects?” mrs. song’s voice trembles with bitterness as she talks, “is that what you call this? he’s dead because of you.”

yunho flinches, but hongjoong doesn’t react, his expression unreadable.

mr. song points an accusing finger towards yunho, “you dragged him into this – into being a hero. if it weren’t for you, he’d still be alive.”

yunho’s hands ball into fists, but he keeps his tone measured. “mingi chose to become a hero because he wanted to make a difference. he believed in what we were doing.”

“and look where it got him! he should have stayed here, with us, where he was safe. but no, he had to go off chasing some foolish dream and get himself killed!” his mother snarled. the words cut deep, but yunho refused to back down.

“he wasn’t chasing a foolish dream. he was trying to protect people – people like you.”

mr. song steps forward, his face contorted with more rage than grief, “don’t you dare try to justify this to us. you think we care about your excuses? our son is gone, and it’s your fault!”

before yunho can respond, hongjoong bows deeply, his head low. “you’re right. this is our fault. we failed him, and for that, we’re sorry.”

the gesture catches everyone off guard, including yunho.

mingi’s mother scoffs, her voice cold as she sneers at hongjoong and his action, “sorry? what good is sorry? it won’t bring him back. just leave. both of you.”

hongjoong straightens, his face blank, and nods. without another word, he turns and begins

daegu district – outside funeral hall – late afternoon

the two walk in silence, the weight of the encounter pressing down on them. finally, yunho breaks the silence.

“why did you do that?” he asks his captain angrily.

hongjoong doesn’t look at him, his voice quiet but firm. “because it’s what they needed to hear.”

“they needed to hear the truth! that mingi was a hero, that he died protecting people! not some empty apology that makes it sound like we didn’t care!” yunho says, feeling all his emotions about to explode out of him.

hongjoong stops abruptly, turning to face yunho. “you think i don’t care?” he says, voice rising, “you think this doesn’t tear me apart, too?”

yunho glares at him, emotions continuing to boil over. “then why do you always act like nothing touches you? like you don’t feel anything?”

“because someone has to keep it together. someone has to be the one to face people like them and take the blame if it means they get even a shred of peace.”

yunho’s anger falters, replaced by a flicker of understanding. “you don’t have to carry it all on your own, you know,” yunho says quietly.

hongjoong exhales deeply, running a hand through his hair. “i know, but it’s easier this way.” they stand in silence for a moment, the tension easing slightly.

“mingi wouldn’t want us to be like this. he’d want us to look out for each other,” yunho says softly.

hongjoong nods, gaze distant, “you’re right.”

the two continue walking as the sun begins to set. side by side, the tension between them slowly fading along with an unspoken promise of healing lingering between them.

seoul district – living room – night

a group of older adults sit around a fireplace, glasses of wine in hand. laughter fills the room as they exchange words and stories. one of them, a well-dressed man in 50s, leans back in his chair and takes a sip of his drink.

“you know, our little girl’s been reading college-level texts since she was eight. smart as a whip, that one!” he says and his wife next to him smiles.

“she’s going to take the hero association to new heights, i’m sure of it. honestly, we couldn’t be prouder – even if she isn’t… well, you know.”

“adopted or not, she’s clearly got your drive,” the other woman says.

“yes, it's a shame that she suffers from a strange condition, not being able to go outside during the day though hasn’t killed her drive though,” the first man said. the group laughs and continues their chatter, their voices a warm hum against the crackling fire.

seoul district – home library – night

upstairs, a young girl, no older than thirteen, stands in a room with the walls lined with towering bookshelves. the room is softly lit, casting shadows across the spines of ancient tomes and leather-bound books. the girl’s small hands flip through a dense book written in an unfamiliar language.

her attention sharpens as she scans the pages, her lips forming silent words, able to follow along easily with the unfamiliar script. a faint breeze causes the sheer curtains on the balcony doors to sway, though the night outside is still.

the balcony doors creak open, a tall figure steps inside, his movements measured and deliberate. yeonjun enters, bowing low as the curtains blow around him.

“lady nicha,” yeonjun’s voice is low and respectful. the complete opposite of what it was during his fight with mingi.

the girl turns slowly, her youthful face serene, yet unnervingly cold. her dark eyes flash a vivid, burning red, illuminating her face for an instant before fading back to normal. she tilts her head, studying him like he was a mere insect to her.

“you’re late,” her voice, mature and calm, is the complete opposite of her youthful and innocent appearance.

“i came as quickly as i could,” he keeps his head low as he speaks. eyes staying towards the floor and not daring to look at the girl in front of him.

nicha closes the book with soft thud, even so a ripple of air rushes through the room due to her single action. though her stature is small, the air around her is suffocating, charged with unlimited power.

“report.”

yeonjun straightens but keeps his gaze averted, respectfully. “the train mission was… partially successful. the hero mingi is dead.”

nicha’s expression remains unchanged, her eyes unblinking as she continues to stare at yeonjun. waiting for him to continue with his report.

he hesitates for a moment before continuing, “but the other hero and the female villain survived.” the room grows deathly silent at his words.

“didn’t i tell you to kill all of them?” nicha’s voice is soft, yet menacing. the air ripples with an unseen force. the books on the shelves around them tremble.

“the sun was rising soon. i couldn’t stay much longer. if i had—

a sudden deafening crack interrupts him as the windows behind him shatter. shards of glass explode and fly inward. yeonjun doesn’t flinch, though his shoulders tense. the glass hovers mid-air for a split second before raining down on the floor.

the room itself seems to quake, the walls vibrating faintly under nicha’s silent fury. she steps towards yeonjun, her bare feet crunching softly against the scattered glass. she doesn’t flinch as the glass shards pierce her feet.

“excuses,” she spits, voice low and full of venom. yeonjun swallows hard but remains rooted in place, his eyes fixed on the ground. unmoving.

nicha then tilts her head, like a curious child, “do you think i care about the sun? or your limits?” her voice echoes unnaturally through the room. reverberating as if spoken by many voices at once.

yeonjun struggles to maintain his composure, “it won’t happen again. i’ll finish the job.” nicha’s lips curve into a faint smile, though her eyes and the smile itself remains devoid of warmth.

“no, it won’t.” the tension in the air snaps as quickly as it rose. nicha turns away from yeonjun, dismissing him with a flick of her hand. “leave.”

yeonjun hesitates for a fraction of a second before bowing deeply and retreating. he steps carefully through the broken glass, his movements eerily silent. the balcony doors close behind him, and nicha turns back to her book. she resumes where she left off, her expression as calm as if nothing had happened.

ateez compound – common room – night

the compound is unusually quiet. the common room feels colder than usual, the air heavy with grief. jongho, wooyoung, and yeosang sit together on the couch. none of them speak for a while, each lost in their thoughts.

“it doesn’t feel real,” wooyoung says softly, finally breaking the silence.

jongho, sitting with his elbows on his knees, nods but doesn’t lift his head. “i keep thinking he’s going to walk through the door. make some dumb joke about how we’re all too serious,” he says quietly.

yeosang leans back, staring at the ceiling, voice distant and solemn, “he always made it look so easy. like no matter how bad things got, he’d figure it out.”

wooyoung lets out a shaky laugh, but it’s devoid of humor, “that’s because he was stubborn as hell. he hated giving up on anything.”

there’s a brief silence as the three exchange a look. despite their different temperaments, the loss of mingi has brought them closer in their unfortunate shared grief.

“we should’ve been there,” jongho says, voice full of regret.

yeosang shakes his head at the youngest’s words, “we can’t think like that. it’s not what he’d want,” yeosang’s voice is soft but firm.

wooyoung’s eyes glisten, but he blinks them away, refusing to let the tears fall. “he was family. all of us… we’re family, right?” he asks, staring at his hands.

jongho and yeosang both nod, their faces set with quiet determination. yeosang looks at the both of them, “and family sticks together. no matter what.”

ateez compound – infirmary – night

the sterile, white walls of the infirmary feel suffocating. you sit on the edge of the bed, side bandaged, but face still pale from the results of the last mission. the faint sound of the compound’s hum buzzes in the background and slowly in your mind. you stare out the window, moonlight illuminating your face.

your eyes are hollow, expression distant. one hand absentmindedly touches the bandages on your abdomen. “i should’ve done more,” you whisper to yourself.

a single tear escapes, sliding down your cheek. suddenly, your nose begins to bleed. you wipe it quickly with the back of your hand, frowning. your eyes immediately snap to the infirmary door, watching as san steps into the room, carrying a small tray with supplies.

“i figured you’d still be awake,” he says, sitting down beside her.

“i can’t sleep,” you say in reply, softly. san places the tray on the side table, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.

“no one blames you, y/n,” he says quietly.

your jaw tightens, and you look away, voice trembling, “that’s a lie. either way… i blame me.”

san reaches out, hand hovering near yours before pulling back. “you fought harder than anyone else could’ve in your condition.”

“it wasn’t enough! mingi’s gone because i wasn’t strong enough to stop that bastard!” your voice cracks, and a faint glow of your powers flickers around your fingers. the air in the room becomes momentarily heavy. san tenses but stays calm.

“y/n,” he calls out to her, soft but firm. the sound of his voice pulls you back, and the glow dissipates. you exhale shakily, guilt washing over you.

“i’m sorry,” you say quietly.

“you don’t have to apologize.” there’s a long silence before san gestures to the bandages on her abdomen. “let me change those for you.”

you hesitate but eventually nod, lifting the hem of your shirt to reveal the bloodstained bandages underneath. san’s fingers brush against your skin as he helps you take your shirt off before he carefully unwraps the bandages, his touch gentle but precise. the intimacy isn’t lost for either of you. you watch him closely, the room growing quieter as the tension between you builds.

“does it hurt?” he asks, glancing up at you.

“not as much as it did before,” you tell him softly.

san chuckles faintly, his voice low, “you’re tougher than you give yourself credit for.”

his fingers linger for a moment over your wound, his finger edging around the stitches some agent from the association had done when they arrived at the derailment site. you feel your breath caught in your chest when you feel him push down on the stitches. like he was testing the durability of your stitches. you feel your heart begin to pound in your chest the more he presses down.

“san…” you manage out, his eyes flicker up to meet your own.

“does that hurt?” he asks, eyes never yours, fingers pressing down into your wound.

“a little…” you trail off, feeling the sting begin to build up. as the pain from his touch begins to spread, you feel a certain heat also begin to spread over you. the pain and heat mixing in your body making your heart jump in your chest, breath hitching.

your hand comes up to grab a fistful of san’s shirt when you feel your stitches finally giving out. a gasp leaves your lips, but san muffles any remaining sounds that want to escape. his lips pressing to yours in an open mouth, tongue abusing yours as two of his fingers jab into your wound – into you.

san’s mouth trails from your mouth and down your jaw, tongue leaving a wet trail over your skin. he trails his tongue over your jaw and down your throat where he meets your death collar. you hear grumbled over the collar before skipping over and continuing down. he meets your lips again when you pull him back up to kiss you, his fingers teasingly moving in and out of your wound.

the pain making your moan and clench your eyes shut, jaw clenched, san is panting heavily in your ear like a dog in heat at the feeling of your insides.

“f-fuck,” he pants out, you cringe at the lewd, wet sounds your wound and his fingers are making together. you feel a little embarrassed about it, but the way he reacts makes the heat from your core reappear – as if it even disappeared. you’re just as sick as he is, you think to yourself. your hand comes down to his crotch, palming the noticeable tent in his pants. san lets out a moan, lips crushing yours when your hands travels inside his pants and grabs his cock.

your tongues do a wild dance, spit running down your chins as his free hand grips your hair and keeps your head in place. the sting from his grip mixed with penetration of your wound sends a pleasurable wave over your body. your hand gives san’s tip a squeeze making him thrust up into your hand.

“fuckfuckfuck,” san pants out, as you feel him curl his fingers, “feels so good,” he adds, eyes glazed over with a look of lust.

“s-san,” you moan out as you suddenly both his hands are moving, his left fingers covered in blood that he spreads over the expanse of your body as he moves you to lay down. you let go of his cock, eyes watching as it stands red and angry at being let go. precum beads at the top of his tip trailing down the length of it and the sight makes you even more hornier than you were.

blood begins to run out of your newly open wound, but san effortlessly uses his powers to stop it. how convenient. you let out a small wince when he bends you in half, yanking your pants and underwear to your knees. “sorry– can’t wait,” he rushes out as you feel his tip rub between your folds that were already slick and easily helping him slip inside of you.

the two of you let out a string of moans as san enters you, his cock stretching you out and there’s a slight sting to his stretch. only thanks to not having him inside you for the past several months. you honestly were starting to forget how good it felt to have him inside you. san immediately begins to thrusts inside of you, holding onto your legs as leverage.

“fuck– i forgot how good this pussy is,” he hisses out as his cock hits your g-spot, over and over again. you feel your eyes roll into the back of your head at the feeling, mouth hanging open and moans spilling into the air. the lewd wet sounds from just moments ago, return as san continues to fuck your pussy. your wetness smearing up your thighs and over your ass as his pace doesn’t stop once he finally found a good pace.

“damn infirmary beds… too fuckin’ small,” he spits out as one of his legs almost fall off the side from how he tries to spread you out more. you feel the head of his cock hitting your sweet spot, head thrown back you feel your climax continue to build up.

“s-s-san-nie! i’m close!” you tell him, you feel his fingers digging into the backs of thighs as he begins to drill into you with his cock. if you weren’t getting your insides rearranged then you would have been worried about the infirmary bed. thankfully, san’s powers have to do with blood and not strength.

however, his natural strength was nothing to laugh about.

you let out a choked sob as you feel yourself coming. san sheathes himself deep inside of you as he also comes. his thick cum painting your walls and even dripping out as san tries to fuck it back into you. he pulls out, running the head and base of his cock between your creamy folds, watching with a daze expression.

you let a hiss of pain out when your orgasm subsides and the pain from your open wound begins to overtake you.

san seems to snap out of it as he’s quickly fixing himself and you. he looks at your wound, gently touching it, his fingers still coated in your now dried blood.

“let me fix you up,” he says, grabbing what he needs and begins to patch up your wound. “there,” he says softly once your wound is closed once more.

“san…” you say quietly as you sit up. his eyes meet yours, expression unreadable now, but filled with something.

“does it still hurt?” he asks softly, reaching over to grab new bandages and you shake your head. “good,” he adds, wrapping the new bandages around your abdomen.

“thanks,” you tell him when he’s done and finally help you put your shirt back on. the earlier mood seemingly settling back between the two of you. mind racing as you think back to how if you had been stronger than you won’t have suffered the wounds you did. you could’ve helped mingi and maybe he would still be here.

“you don’t have to carry this alone,” he tells you softly, snapping you out of your thoughts. you blink, tears welling up again.

“i… i don’t know how to move forward,” you confess. san places a hand on your shoulder, his thumb brushing lightly against your collarbone.

“one step at a time. me and seonghwa… we’ll be there with you. for you,” he says, your faces inches apart. the tension between you both is almost visible. neither of you move, the moment hanging in the air before you look away, breaking the spell.

“thank you.”

san doesn’t respond, but his hand lingers on your shoulder for a moment longer before he pulls away. the two of you sit in silence, the weight of your grief and unspoken emotions filling the room.

ateez compound – common room – day

the compound has become quieter the last few days, somber stillness that reflected the weight of mingi’s death. you sat alone at the kitchen table, which was connected into the common room, staring at the half-empty cup of tea in front of you. the guilt you had been feeling was unbearable. a constant ache in your chest that refused to fade. you replayed the moment over and over again, mind torturing you with the what-ifs.

wooyoung leaned against the wall nearby, his arms crossed as he stared out the window. every so often his sharp gaze would flicker over to you, who remained unmoving. the tension between them and the rest of the team had been simmering for days, about ready to boil over at any second.

“you’re really just sitting there?” he finally asked, voice low but cutting. you chose not to respond to him. fingers tightening around the mug instead. “answer me!” wooyoung snapped, stepping closer. now in the kitchen area. “do you feel anything? mingi is dead! and you’re sitting here like it’s just another day!”

you flinched slightly at his words, guilt twisting even tighter, but before you could muster a reply, san stood abruptly from his spot by the other large window in the common room. “that’s enough, wooyoung,” he says, his voice full of warning and danger, not to mention laced with a certain coldness.

“enough? are you kidding me?” wooyoung sounds offended by san’s words, his eyes blazing as he directs his attention to san. “mingi died because of her! if she hadn't been so–

“don’t you dare fucking finish that sentence,” san cuts him off, stepping close until they were just nearly nose-to-nose with each other. his fists clenched at his sides, just barely able to restrain himself from punching the hero. “you have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“i know exactly what i’m talking about,” wooyoung shot back. “she’s clearly a liability. always has been since day one, and now mingi’s gone because of it. i’m surprised yunho isn’t dead too because of her.”

“wooyoung, stop!” yeosang tries to step in, but he was immediately drowned out by the argument.

san’s jaw tightened, “mingi’s death isn’t her fault. she risked her life to save those passengers and was injured because of that demon. how was she supposed to know an even stronger one was going to show up right after? huh? tell me that.”

wooyoung let out a bitter laugh, one full of anger and disbelief. “you always defend her, don’t you? no matter what she does, you’re always there to protect her. i thought she was one the world’s worst villains, can she not protect herself?”

“and you’re always looking for someone to blame,” san retorts, “mingi wouldn’t want this – wouldn’t want you tearing the team apart because you can’t deal with your grief and personal issues! you’ve been hostile since day one, wooyoung, don’t you have anything else better to do than be this petty?”

wooyoung’s hands balled into fists, elements of fire and ice sparking off both hands, “don’t you dare talk to me about grief! at least i actually cared about mingi. at least i–

“enough!” jongho’s voice echoes through the room as he steps between them, shoving them apart with a firm grip on each of their shoulders. “both of you stop this right now. fighting each other won’t bring him back.”

san shrugs jongho’s hand off with a huff as he reluctantly steps back. wooyoung scowled but didn’t push further; however, the anger in his eyes didn’t fade. from across the room, seonghwa, who had been silent observing, finally spoke.

“this isn’t helping anyone. least of all mingi.”

wooyoung muttered something under his breath that no one caught before storming out of the common room. his footsteps echoing through the hallway.

yeosang, who had also been watching quietly, approached you. he placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, his expression soft as you look up at him with tired eyes. “come on. let’s get out of here for a bit,” he says quietly. you hesitate for a moment before nodding, face pale and drawn from watching san and wooyoung as you let yeosang guide you out of the room. you both walked in silence down the corridor, tension still heavy in the air for everyone.

“don’t let him get to you,” yeosang says eventually, his voice calm but firm. he does his best in trying to assure you.

you stopped walking and leaned against the wall, hands trembling. “he’s right, though,” you whispered. “i failed. i couldn’t save mingi.”

yeosang shook his head, his hands gently coming to support yours, “you did what you could. none of this is your fault, and if it wasn’t for you there would have been a lot more casualties. you did a good thing.”

tears began to well up in your eyes as you listened to speak, despite trying to blink them away. “it feels like my fault. every time i close my eyes, i see him. he fought so hard, we were supposed to get something to eat after the mission. he promised.”

yeosang leaned against the wall beside you, his presence steady and grounding. “we’ve all lost people, y/n. but you don’t have to carry this by yourself. you’ve got us to help you through this. we are all figuring this out, together.”

you looked up at him, vision blurry with tears, yet you still managed a small, grateful smile, “thank you, yeosang.”

before he could respond, jongho comes rushing down the corridor, expression tense. you don’t think you’ve seen jongho look like this, not since when you first met him a few months ago. “someone’s approaching the compound,” he says breathlessly.

you and yeosang exchanged a look before you are following after jongho to the main entrance. wooyoung is already there, fists clenched and fire and ice seeping off his fingers. he’s ready just in case.

then you see them. a long figure staggered closer, silhouette weak and unsteady. it was a young woman. as she came closer, you could tell the three heroes immediately recognized her. she had to be a fellow hero.

“it’s winter,” yeosang says, eyes flickering over to meet yours. like he was filling you in on who this was. winter? you think you’ve heard that name being tossed around before when you were still in prison. some of the male villains idolizing her, having crushes on her despite her being a hero and them villains.

winter’s uniform was torn and soaked with blood, her face pale and bruised as she nearly collapsed at the entrance. you can’t help but notice how despite her torn uniform and injuries, the light pink shawl with stars on it remained… almost untouched as it draped around her arms. jongho and yeosang rushed over to support her, each of them taking an arm to help steady her as they carefully helped her inside.

“my team…” winter began to say, her voice weak and trembling as she let out a small gasp, “we were attacked. a-a villain– demon, i don’t know what it was. they’re all dead! i’m– i’m the only one who made it out,” she tells you all, tears beginning to build up in her eyes.

wooyoung frowned at the news, “you can stay here until hongjoong and yunho get back. they’ll know what to do.”

you watch as winter’s gaze swept the room before she immediately caught her breath, eyes narrowing when they landed on you, san, and seonghwa. “i didn’t think the rumors were true. that the hero association made you work with villains,” she said, her tone in clear disdain at you and your two lovers.

you looked away, eyes moving over your team. yeosang looked slightly surprised by her words while jongho, seonghwa, and wooyoung – surprisingly – remained neutral. san; however, looked at winter with a match of disdain, his eyes narrowing on her. like he was trying to figure her out.

“especially her,” you heard winter say, you snapped your attention back to her, her eyes boring right into you, “everyone knows how dangerous she is.”

“watch your fucking mouth,” san snapped, his voice sharp and glare icy as he stepped forward.

“san,” wooyoung’s tone is one of warning, “don’t start.”

“i’m not starting anything,” he shot back, “but i’m not going to stand here and listen to some crap nonsense.”

“nonsense?” winter scoffed, “she’s a clear liability. i’m surprised the association even let her out.”

“enough!” san’s voice booms through the room, silencing winter who stares at the villain in shock, “you don’t know anything about her.” he hisses, pointing a finger at her in warning.

but then wooyoung steps up, “and you don’t know what to back off,” he counters, stepping closer to san. “you’re so blinded by your feelings for her that you can’t see the truth. is her pussy really that good?”

before anyone could react, san punches wooyoung which in turn sends the hero stumbling back and falling to the ground. blood drips from wooyoung’s nose, jaw clenched as he turns to look back at san.

“say that again, wooyoung. i fucking dare you,” san’s fist are still clenched, waiting for wooyoung to once again run his mouth.

wooyoung stands up, blood smearing across his face as he attempts to wipe it away, but before he could do anything further with san, yeosang steps between them. “guys, stop!” his voice is sharper and more commanding than you have ever heard from the usually soft-spoken hero. “we have more important things to deal with right now, and none of them involve fighting each other.”

seonghwa comes and places a calming hand on san’s shoulder, his voice low, “let’s go.”

san hesitates, his gaze landing on wooyoung before turning and lingering on winter for a moment before turning away. “this isn’t over,” he mutters, allowing seonghwa to guide him and you out of the room.

as you walked away, you notice san glancing over his shoulder, eyes narrowing once more. you know he was suspicious about winter, something clearly not sitting right with him about her. but he didn’t say anything to either you or seonghwa. keeping his thoughts to himself, you couldn’t deny the sense of unease settled around you three.

ateez compound – common room – few days later

the atmosphere in the compound had grown overwhelmingly thick with tension over the past several days. winter, oblivious to the tension she was causing, settled into a room and easily integrated herself into the team’s space. her injuries healed surprisingly fast, and she often roamed the halls, stopping sometimes to exchange casual remarks with her fellow heroes.

wooyoung, for one, didn’t seem to mind her presence. spending more time with her than anyone else has, sharing meals or discussing tactics. he calms he just wants her to feel welcomed, but yeosang tells you he thinks otherwise. winter’s willingness to integrate herself so quickly, barely mourning the grief of her teammates, made san’s suspicions grow with each passing day.

“she’s not who she says she is,” san muttered under his breath during a meeting in the common area. you had chosen to stay in your room, shutting yourself away from everyone. the absence of mingi and the growing tension making you unable to tolerate being in the same room as the others. wooyoung especially.

wooyoung let out a dramatic sigh, slamming his cup down on the table. “for the last time, san, she’s a hero! she’s on our side!��

“and you’re so sure of that?” san shoots back, voice low but clearly full of distrust. “she just shows up, conveniently alive after her entire team is killed, and we’re supposed to believe she’s fine?”

“what’s your problem, huh?” wooyoung counters, standing up from his chair. “are you mad because someone else is able to see how much of a liability you two and y/n are? that you should’ve stayed in prison to rot?”

san’s eyes darkened, his collar digging into his skin, and his fists clenched at his sides, “don’t you dare bring seonghwa and y/n into this.”

“oh, i’ll bring them into this,” wooyoung says, stepping closer and voice rising. “you’re so suspicious of winter, yet ever since the three of you joined, the number of demon attacks have also increased! and how convenient that when y/n is sent on a mission there’s not one, but two demons from the twelve moons that show up! how is that not suspicious!”

seonghwa, who had been silently observing from the corner, finally speaks up, “both of you, enough. arguing isn’t going to help anything, especially when we need to be a team more than ever.”

“she’s dangerous,” san says through gritted teeth, pointing towards the hallway where winter had disappeared moments ago.

“and you’re paranoid,” wooyoung snaps back, brushing past san as he leaves the room.

san exhaled sharply, jaw tight as he sat back down, his mind racing with uneasy thoughts. jongho who had stood at the front of the room let out an annoyed sigh, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.

“great meeting everybody, glad we got things accomplished,” he says sarcastically.

ateez compound – y/n’s room – ████

your room was shrouded in a heavy stillness, the air thick with the weight of your grief. the blinds were tightly shut, casting the space in darkness. you lay curled up in your bed, knees drawn to your chest, staring at the blank wall. your heart ached with the guilt that continuously gnawed at you, an endless replay of mingi’s final moments in your mind. it was fucking awful.

a soft knock broke through the silence, but you didn’t respond. had you even heard the knock in the first place?

the door creaked open, and seonghwa stepped inside, carrying a tray of food. his footsteps are quiet as he nears you, as if he understood the weight of the room and how it demanded silence.

“y/n,” seonghwa’s voice is soft, laced with concern, “you need to eat.”

“i’m not hungry,” you reply, voice hoarse and barely audible.

seonghwa sighed, setting the tray down on the bedside table before making his way over to the blinds and turning them just a hair to where light was shining in. the room now shrouded in a form of twilight. seonghwa lowers himself onto the edge of your bed. his gaze gentle but insistent, even if you can’t see him. your back facing him, you remain unmoving.

“you’ve been in here for days. yeosang is worried. we all are,” he tells you, but you know that’s not the case. wooyoung surely isn’t and jongho just chooses to remain… neutral. you know hongjoong would have already killed you if he was here. it felt like a countdown just waiting for him and yunho to return.

you chose not to respond, gaze fixed on the same spot on the wall. the silence stretched between the two of you, heavy and unyielding.

without a word, seonghwa shifted closer. he reached out, his hand tentative and slow as he carefully reached up to brush some hair away from your face. his touch was warm, grounding. you didn’t deserve it. “y/n,” he murmured, voice breaking slightly. “please, don’t shut me out,” you feel your heart clenched.

you eventually turned your head to look at him, eyes glassy with unshed tears. “i failed him,” you whispered, voice trembling. “if i hadn’t been injured in that fight with yena then i could’ve saved him.”

seonghwa’s heart twists at hearing the anguish in your voice. he lays down beside you, pulling you into his arms. you tried to resist for a moment before giving up, collapsing against him, burying your face in his chest.

“you didn’t fail him,” he said softly, voice steady despite the emotions threatening to spill over. “you did everything you could.”

“i could’ve stopped that bastard, seonghwa. i could’ve–

you cut your own self off as the tears you had been holding back finally broke free. body shaking as the tears began to soak through seonghwa’s shirt.

“no,” he says, tone firm but gentle. he titled your chin up, forcing you to look at him. “you couldn’t have known. you couldn’t have done anything differently. don’t let this guilt consume you, y/n. you saved all those people on that train from that demon. you did something.”

you stared at him, tears spilling over as your lips quivered. “i feel like i’m drowning,” you confessed, voice barely a whisper. “i can’t breathe. i can’t… i can’t do this.”

seonghwa’s arms tighten around you, his forehead knocking gently against yours. “you’re not alone,” he said, voice shaking slightly. “you hear me? you’re not alone in this. i’m here, san’s here, yeosang even. and i’ll always be here.”

your sobs grew louder, emotions spiralling out of control. the room around you both began to shift. the walls ripped like waves, furniture flickered in and out of existence, and the air seemed to hum with an unnatural energy.

seonghwa noticed but didn’t falter. he held you tighter, attempting to ground you with his presence. “breathe with me,” he whispers, voice soothing. “in and out. just focus on me.”

you clung to seonghwa as if he were your lifeline, your ragged breaths slowly matching his steady rhythm. gradually, the room settled. the walls returned to their solid state, the flickering ceased, and the unnatural energy faded away.

you pulled away slightly, face streaked with tears. “i’m scared,” you confessed, voice unstable as you continued. “i’m scared of losing control and hurting people i care about.”

seonghwa cups your face with his hands, thumb gently wiping the tears away. “you’re stronger than you think,” he tells you, voice filled with a quiet sureness. “you’ve been through so much and you’re still here. still fighting. that’s what matters most.”

you feel your lower lip tremble as you search his eyes, finding only unwavering support and affection. unwavering love. “i don’t know if i can continue doing this alone,” you admitted softly.

“and you won’t,” he tells you, “you have us. you have me.”

for the first time in days, you feel a flicker of something other than guilt and grief. hope, perhaps? you let out a shaky breath and rest your forehead against his once again. “thank you,” you whisper, voice full of raw emotions and eyes looking at him with sincerity.

seonghwa smiles soft, his arms still wrapped around you, “always,” he tells you, leaning over to pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

you felt your breathing steady and tears finally stop, you allowed yourself to lean into him, feeling the weight of your grief just ever so slightly begin to lift. it was good to be reminded that seonghwa was here – san too – and that you weren’t alone.

ateez compound – winter’s room – night

winter walks down the quiet corridor, her footsteps light and measured as the compound has settled into its usual nightly rhythm. her expression remains neutral, composed – a perfect mask of calm that easily hid the storm beneath. each step brought her closer to her room, where she knew she could let her guard down for a moment.

she pushed the door open with a soft creaked sound. her hand instinctively reaches for the light switch, but she immediately freezes.

someone was sitting on her bed.

the faint light from the hallway cast a silhouette that is both commanding and terrifying. lady nicha.

the door closes behind winter as she immediately drops to both knees, bowing deeply, her head pressed against the cold floor. her voice was steady as she spoke, “lady nicha, i wasn’t expecting you.”

the air in the room felt heavy, suffocating, as if the walls themselves bowed to nicha’s presence. she sat clearly relaxed on the edge of the bed, her posture deceptively casual, but her eyes shined with a predatory sharpness. she tapped her painted, burgundy fingers against her knee. each movement deliberate, echoing in the tense silence.

“rise,” she then commands, voice smooth yet still laced with authority that left no room for discussion.

winter raised her body off the ground, still kneeling with her head slightly bowed. her star-patterned shawl shimmering in the moonlight that peeked into the room. “such a disguise you have,” nicha says, voice tilted with fake amusement.

nicha’s lips curved into a slow, wicked smile. “you’ve done well, wonyoung,” she purred, her voice a mix of praise and menace. “to think, they’ve welcomed you so easily and trusted you. allowed you to even sow discord among them, but, ah, i guess that part wasn’t so hard considering their distrust among each other.”

wonyoung tilted her head, her expression one of pride, “it’s as you planned, my lady. the seeds of doubt and tension are starting to blossom. they’re starting to fray at the edges.”

nicha stood, the air around her growing heavier still. she approached wonyoung, her presence overwhelming. each step she took seemed to dim the light in the room, shadows pooling at her feet and seemed to have a mind of their own. “good,” she said, voice low and deliberate, “but your work is far from over.”

wonyoung met her gaze for a moment, unwavering despite the oppressive and powerful aura that surrounded nicha. “what would you have me do, my lady?”

“take them out,” she says, tone sharp as a blade. “one by one, if you must. but the female villain, y/n…” she pauses, her eyes narrowing, a cruel smile playing on her lips. “she must suffer. break her and her power will surely destroy the rest.”

wonyoung nodded, her expression determined, “i won’t fail you.”

nicha’s smile widened, though it held no warmth. she raised a hand, her fingers brushing wonyoung’s cheek in a mockery of affection. the action, nonetheless, still sent a chill down wonyoung’s spine. “see that you don’t. i have no use for failures.”

the room seemed to pulse with nicha’s presence, the walls vibrating faintly as if the very fabric of reality bent to her will. “remember, child,” she continued, her voice a whisper that felt like a scream to wonyoung. “my power is what allowed you to stand here. do not make me regret granting it to you.”

wonyoung bowed her head again, voice firm, “i will not disappoint you, lady nicha.”

nicha laughed softly, a sound that sent more shivers down wonyoung’s spine. “good,” she said, her form beginning to dissolve into the shadows that slowly gathered around her. “then go, prove yourself worthy of the power i’ve bestowed upon you.”

with her final words echoing inside the room, nicha’s presence dissolved, leaving the room eerily still. the oppressive weight lifted, but her dominance remained a lingering sense. like a phantom hand clutched wonyoung’s throat, reminding her to not fail.

then, as the last traces of nicha’s aura faded, wonyoung straightened up, standing up from the ground as her face hardened. “y/n,” she mumbled, a flicker of something unreadable crossing her features. “let’s see if you’re as strong as they say you are.”

with a resolute breath, she turned in order to begin preparing for the next phase of her plan. nicha’s commands echoing in her mind, a constant reminder for the price of failure. failure that wasn’t an option for her.

ateez compound – common room – the next afternoon

the morning light streamed from the compound’s windows and into the common room where jongho and yeosang were. a faint buzz from jongho’s phone interrupted their conversation, which leads him to glancing at the device before quickled opening the message.

“what is it?” yeosang asks, noticing the subtle tension in jongho’s shoulders.

“it’s from hongjoong,” jongho replied, voice low. “i told him and yunho about winter being here and what she said happened to her team.”

yeosang frowns, “do you think it's about that?”

jongho didn’t respond immediately, his eyes fully focused on the message as he read it. yeosang notes his face slowly drain of color, hand tightening around the phone. yeosang is afraid the younger hero is going to crush the device if he doesn’t let up.

“jongho?” yeosang says, his concern growing. “what does it say?”

jongho hesitates, swallowing the lump that forms in his throat, voice with an unusual tremble as he replies, “they found her team… what was left of the bodies were recovered.”

yeosang’s brows furrowed at the news, “that’s awful, but why do you–

“winter’s body was found with them,” jongho cuts him off, voice shaking.

a chilling silence falls between them, the weight of jongho’s words sinking in. yeosang’s eyes widened in disbelief, “what?”

jongho hands him the phone, letting him read the message himself, “hongjoong says we need to be careful. whoever’s here with us isn’t winter.”

“we need to tell the others now,” yeosang says, despite his mind racing at the sudden thought of potential danger within their own compound.

jongho nodded, his expression grim as they split up.

ateez compound – outside training grounds – afternoon

you sat outside of the compound, enjoying the quietness of nature, but still trying to process everything that has happened over the past few days. your eyes flickered up towards the sky where you saw several crows flying around in a circle. five crows to be exact. their cawing sends a chill down your spine for reasons you can’t quite explain.

odd, you think to yourself. the last time you saw a crow was right after mingi–

the door behind your flies open and you turn to see yeosang running outside towards you. his urgency cutting through the peaceful air. “y/n, we have a problem.”

you meet yeosang halfway, placing a hand on his shoulder, “what’s wrong?”

“winter isn’t who she says she is. her body was found with her team,” he says, not wasting any time

your eyes widened as you process his words, “you’re saying… she’s an imposter?” san was right then, his suspicions that something wasn’t right with winter were true.

yeosang nods his head, “yes. hongjoong just sent the intel. whoever’s been with us all this time isn’t winter. we need to act now.”

you looked at yeosang, voice calm but urgent as you spoke, “then let’s move. we can’t let her make the first move. where are the others?”

ateez compound – training room – afternoon

in the training area, seonghwa stood next to winter on the sidelines as he watched san and wooyoung spar. jongho enters the room, heart pounding as he approaches wooyoung.

“wooyoung,” jongho calls out, trying to keep his voice steady as he gives a cautious look to winter. “i need to talk to you. it’s important.”

wooyoung raised an eyebrow, pausing his sparring. after years of working with jongho, he realized that something was wrong with the youngest. he was nervous despite being able to mask it well for the others in the room. “what’s up?”

“let’s talk somewhere else,” jongho says, glancing at winter out of the corner of his eye.

winter tilted her head, faint smile playing on her lips, “why can’t you say it here?”

jongho hesitated, but before he could answer, san stepped forward, having also picked up on the shift of jongho’s eyes. san’s own eyes narrowing that the female hero, “maybe he doesn’t want you to hear it.”

winter’s smile faltered, her expression sharpening, “i don’t see why that would be a problem? unless, of course, you’re trying to hide something.”

san let out a dry laugh, the tension almost touchable at this point, “funny, i was about to say the same thing to you.”

wooyoung stepped between them, his own frustration boiling over, “can you stop? this isn’t the time–

“actually,” jongho interrupts him, voice slightly louder now, “this is the time.” he adds as he takes a deep breath, his eyes locked on his teammate. “winter’s team was found, and so was she. dead.”

the room fell deathly silent.

then the sound of an unsettling laughter broke it.

the longer the laugh went, the louder and unsettling it became. all eyes turned to winter, who straightened her entire demeanor. she no longer looked like the hero, but instead her platinum blonde hair turning a pitch black. eyes becoming sharper, more dangerous. what were once brown shifted into an unnatural green, her pupils also shifting to where 상위육 could be clearly read. her once delicate features twisted into a cruel smirk as she looked at the group.

“well,” she says, her voice dripping with mockery and fake disappointment, “it seems the charade is up.”

san stepped forward, fists clenched, while wooyoung could only stare in shock and betrayal. jongho then spoke up, voice steady and firm, “get ready! this isn’t over!”

wonyoung’s smirk widened, her confidence unshaken, “oh, i’m counting on it.”

wonyoung’s shawl, now wrapped around her waist appears with a snake-patterned, shoot out from her arms, snapping toward san. the sudden attack forces san to leap back, just narrowly avoiding being impaled. wooyoung stumbles back in shock as the ribbons carve into the wall, leaving deep gashes.

“she’s a demon!” seonghwa says right as the room erupts into chaos with the ribbons coiling and striking with lethal precision. wonyoung whirls, her snake-like ribbons extending and retracting at her will, smashing training dummies and throwing debris into the air. san ducks under one ribbon and slashes another with his hardened blood. the severed ribbon falling lifelessly to the ground.

seonghwa turns to both wooyoung and jongho, “go, we’ll handle her!” jongho nods his head, turning towards wooyoung who is clearly hesitating for a moment. jongho grabs the older by the arm pulling him out of the training room.

“come on, wooyoung, we need to send a message to the association!” wooyoung snaps out of his daze and nods, the two males rushing out and leaving the two villains to take care of the demon.

“not just any type of demon, too, but a part of the twelve moons,” san says with gritted teeth. “but her upper six status means she should just be child’s play.”

seonghwa moves in from the side, his strikes calculated, but wonyoung twirls gracefully, her ribbons creating a barrier that easily deflects his attacks. she laughs, her voice echoing eerily throughout the room.

“you think you can defeat me? how adorable.”

one ribbon wraps around san’s arm, lifting him off the ground and slamming him into a wall. he lets out a groan but manages to twist free and lands on his feet just as seonghwa launches a flurry of attacks. his sheer strength blowing through several of wonyoung’s ribbons. the demon’s movements are fluid, almost dance-like, as she dodges and counters.

“she’s toying with us,” seonghwa says to san.

“not for long,” he replies before charging forward, his blood shaped into hardened weapons. he slices through one of the ribbons, which recoils with a hiss, but two more easily snap towards him. seonghwa intercepts, his fist catching the ribbon mid-strike and easily ripping it apart.

“impressive, but let’s see how long you last,” wonyoung purrs. she then slams her hand into the ground, ribbons erupt in every direction, tearing through the floor. san and seonghwa are forced to separate, dodging the onslaught. san sprints along the edge of the room, dodge debris, while seonghwa rushes head on, leaping into the air for higher ground.

“seonghwa, now!”

seonghwa drives his clawed fist downward towards wonyoung. she blocks with her ribbons, but san takes the opportunity to strike from the side, slicing through another ribbon and grazing her arm. wonyoung hisses in pain, her composure faltering for the first time.

“you’ll pay for that!” she snaps, her ribbons lash out wildly, one catching seonghwa in the side and throwing him across the room. he crashes into a pile of rubble, groaning in pain. san dodges and weaves, landing another strike on wonyoung, but she quickly retaliates by wrapping a ribbon around his ankle and yanking him off his feet.

“let… go, damnit!” san swipes his blood through the ribbon, slicing it and rolling to his feet. he and seonghwa regroup, their breathing heavy. “been awhile since we’ve been this out of breath together, huh?” san comments with a smirk making seonghwa roll his eyes.

wonyoung glares at them, blood trickling from a wound on her forehead, “enough of this!” she extends her arms, ribbons converge into a massive, writing mass above her head. with a deafening crack, she sends it crashing down towards the two villains. they dive in opposite directions, the impact leaving a large crater in the floor.

“we need to end this now,” seonghwa says, a frown drawn across his face. san nods, his expression grim. they continue to launch several attacks, san striking high while seonghwa goes low. wonyoung struggles to keep up, her movements becoming more erratic as the two villains close in. finally, san manages to land a deathly blow, his blood blade slicing through her neck in one clean cut.

wonyoung’s head falls from her body and to the floor, her body slumping to the floor on her knees. seonghwa and san are left panting, their bodies fighting to keep up with the fight they just went through. they both look down at the demon’s body, and that’s when they notice that wonyoung’s head and body isn’t disintegrating.

instead, wonyoung’s head rolls around, body jerking to life as she begins to wail like a child, her voice piercing and unsettling. the sight of her still being alive sends a chill down both villains’ spines.

“what the–

“this isn’t fair! this isn’t fair!” she wails out, fisting slamming against the ground as fat crocodile tears run down her face. “i was supposed to kill you all! devour you all! oppa, help me! oppa!”

seonghwa and san freeze, expressions a mix of confusion and horror as they watch wonyoung’s body begin to convulse. her body jerks forward as the sound of flesh tearing fills the air as wonyoung’s back splits open. san is quick to realize another figure was crawling out of her body and jumps straight into action.

his blade striking down, dusting covers the room as wonyoung’s cries fall silent for a moment. and for a split second san and seonghwa both think he’s managed to kill the new demon.

“shh, i’m here,” a voice speaks behind both of them. both seonghwa and san whirl around to see the new demon crouched in front of a still sobbing wonyoung. reattaching her head to her body like it was nothing.

“sunghoon-oppa, it's not fair!” wonyoung cries out as the male demon gives his sister a crooked smile.

“it’s okay now,” he says, patting her head before standing. his eyes matching wonyoung’s reading 상위육 – upper six – and his expression is hardened. “i’ll take care of them. go handle the others,” he says, addressing wonyoung. wonyoung nods, her ribbons snapping menacingly as she quickly teleports away.

before either villain can react, sunghoon teleports behind them, his movements too fast to track. “shall we begin?”

san lets out a huff as he grabs seonghwa and rushes out of the training room and into the courtyard of the compound. sunghoon easily follows after them, his body emanating dark, almost snake-like energy. instead of ribbons like wonyoung, sunghoon has dangerous, fang-shaped blades coming out of his forearms.

“you gave up your humanity, was it worth it? becoming a puppet for the villains just to survive?” san asks, eyes narrowing as looks at sunghoon.

“i didn’t do this for survival,” he replies back coldly, but there’s a faint undertone of pain almost, “i did it to protect my sister. everything i’ve done – every choice i’ve made was to keep her safe.”

seonghwa steps forward, voice sharp, “and now you’re dragging her into the abyss with you.”

sunghoon’s smirk falters at seonghwa’s words, “the abyss is kinder than the world that the hero’s call justice. the heroes and their association… they don’t protect anyone. you should know that better than anyone here.”

without warning, sunghoon attacks with his blades clashing against san’s blood. san manages to roll away, sending blood spikes towards the demon who easily dodges them.

“you talk big, but i don’t see much strength,” san says.

sunghoon chuckles at san, “you haven’t seen anything yet.”

sunghoon continues to launch himself at the two villains, his blades clashing and creating sparks as seonghwa and san either parry his attack or dodge them. one of sunghoon’s blades manage to cut against seonghwa’s arm, the male hissing as he looks down at it.

“his blades are poisonous,” seonghwa hisses out.

“then we’ll need to hurry up and kill him before the poison kills us,” san says, jaw clenched as he used his blood to create two swords, tossing one to seonghwa who easily catches it with his uninjured arm. the fight only begins to escalate as sunghoon launches a flurry of attacks, twirling in the dance with his blades, glistening with venom, attempting to slice and cut at both san and seonghwa.

seonghwa trembles, feeling the weight of his injury and battle getting to him. he knew he could never fully control himself when he transform, but seonghwa knew that his monstrous strength would help push them to win against this fight.

the air around them began to grow colder with a creeping chill that seeped into the bones of both san and sunghoon. san attempted to reach out to seonghwa, but with one shove it sent san flying back and tumbling to the ground.

“fuck,” he mumbles as he watches seonghwa. his body contorting with an unsettling and sickening sound of sounds cracking as his frame elongated. joints bending in grotesque and inhuman angles. his skin took on a deathly pale, almost translucent hue – it was the complete opposite of his usual sun-kissed skin – veins began to pulse dark and prominent beneath the surface.

his once calm and calculating expression now twisted into something monstrous, a predator. his teeth sharpened, canines elongating like his body did into jagged points where the sole purpose was to tear at flesh. san felt his heart sink as he continued to watch as seonghwa’s eyes even turned into black voids that looked at every and anything with an unnatural and sick hunger. his fingers stretched, nails hardening into proper, monstrous claws that were just waiting to tear into its next target.

sunghoon looked at seonghwa’s monstrous form, completely caught off guard and his usual strong facade faded for a moment. “what are you?” he hisses out, “what kind of demon are you?”

seonghwa responded with a loud roar that sent shockwaves across the area and he lunged at the demon with his large, grotesque form. seonghwa was able to attack sunghoon with his bone-like antlers, slashing into the demon and sending him flying backwards and leaving a deep.

san is able to adjust quickly, using seonghwa’s sudden transformation and attacks as distractions to land more precise strikes.

ateez compound – control room – night

yeosang lets out a shaky breath as he reached the control room. running over, he begins to type frantically on the condole, sweating beading down his forehead as he attempted to contact both hongjoong and yunho, but also the hero association. suddenly, the glow of the monitor flickers as a shadow looms behind him. he feels his ear twitch as the sound of a faint hiss, wonyoung’s ribbon snakes dart forward like some fanged vipers.

you burst in, sword slashing through the first set of ribbons before wonyoung can even register that you are in the room. the severed ends writhe on the floor before quickly retracting. the ends you cut off, fell to the floor seemingly turning back into pieces of fabric.

“go! send the message, yeosang!” you shout to him as you stand between him and wonyoung. hesitates for a moment, looking between you and wonyoung. “now, yeosang!” you shout louder. yeosang nods before quickly sending the message.

you can hear his ragged breathing, clearly surprised and a little terrified by the demon in front of you both. you turn to look at him for a moment before gesturing towards the door. “be careful,” he whispers before making a bolt for the door. wonyoung’s head tilts as she watches him flee.

“heroes are so predictable, always running,” she taunts with a hiss.

you roll your shoulders, sword gripped tightly between your hands, “looks like it's just you and me.”

wonyoung lets out a tsk sound before lunging at you, her ribbons weaving in intricate patterns, each one snapping towards you like a striking snake. you manage to parry most of them with your sword, slicing through some as sparks fly with metal meeting energy.

“you can’t keep this up forever,” wonyoung says with a smirk.

“good thing i don’t need forever,” you told her, breathless and through gritted teeth. you roll to the side as a ribbon smashes into the console behind you, shattering the screen. you charge forward, slicing through multiple ribbons, but one catches your ankle, yanking you off balance.

you land hard, coughing as the wind is knocked out of you. before you can recover, a ribbon snakes around your wrist, picks you up and slams you into the wall. blood trickles from your forehead, some of it running into your eye, but you quickly wipe it away.

“what’s the matter? too weak to save yourself?” wonyoung asks mockingly, her ribboned snakes almost floating around her like extra arms. you grit your teeth, eyes glowing faintly as you feel your power begin to flare. you channel your energy into your sword, severing the ribbon holding your wrist.

“you talk too much,” you say fiercely. you lunge again, blade igniting with light. wonyoung retreats, her ribbons forming a barrier around her. you leap, slashing downward with all your strength. the barrier shatters into pieces of limp fabric, and wonyoung stumbles back, clutching a deep wound across her shoulder.

wonyoung scowls, her ribbons writhing wildly around her, “you’ll regret that!”

wonyoung summons more ribbons, these even more thick and serpent-like that before, ones with glowing eyes and fangs. they hiss and dart towards you, and you just barely manage to dodge them. one snake grazes your side, tearing through your uniform and leaving a deep, bleeding gash.

you press your hand against the wound, feeling that the snake had torn through the stitches of your wound and made it even deeper. blood pooling out and staining your clothes a deep burgundy. you let out a small hiss in pain, managing to steady yourself as you look towards wonyoung with narrowed eyes, “i’ve faced worse than you.”

“i can guarantee you’ve never faced someone like me.”

the fight continues to become more intense, the control room becoming a battlefield of destroyed debris and shredded fabric everywhere. your sword blazes as you cut through the ribboned snakes, but wonyoung is relentless as her snakes continue to regenerate faster than you can destroy them

jongho and wooyoung rush into the control room, when they arrive they find the place basically destroyed and you on one knee, blade digging into the ground for support.

wooyoung immediately feels his rage build up, turning to wonyoung who looks at the three with a mocking smile, blood dripping from her wound you had given her earlier. “you lied to us! tricked us!” he says furiously, his fist catching on fire.

“and you fell for it so easily. how pathetic,” she says, clearly amused by wooyoung’s anger.

wooyoung begins to charge, but you reach out to grab his arm, stopping him. “don’t let her get in your head. it’s what she wants,” you say weakly.

wooyoung simply glares at you, ripping his arm out of your grasp like you’re the one with fire powers, “she doesn’t deserve mercy!”

“wooyoung, focus! don’t let your anger get you killed,” jongho snaps.

“oh, how sweet,” wonyoung says with a laugh, “the little team trying so hard to hold it together.”

you give both wooyoung and jongho a look as you steady yourself, sweat dripping from your forehead and mixing with blood. you can slowly start to feel the blood loss beginning to affect you, but you push forward and ignore it. the three of you quickly begin to attack in unison, combining abilities in order to overwhelm wonyoung. jongho slams his fists into the ground, sending shockwaves that manage to throw the demon off balance. wooyoung sends several fire and ice blasts towards her ribbons, even sending ice shards that pin them to the walls.

you take advantage of the opening, rushing forward and delivering a deep slash across wonyoung’s abdomen.

wonyoung lets out a snarl, “you think you’ve won?” her ribbons explode outward, throwing the three of you back. jongho grunts as he takes the brunt of the impact, shielding you and wooyoung.

“thanks,” you say breathless to jongho.

“don’t thank me yet,” he says.

wonyoung begins to unravel, her ribbons coming together to form a massive snake that towers over you guys. she sends the snake striking downward, its mouth opening up and ready to swallow you whole. wooyoung; however, leaps at the massive snake head, fist ablaze as he strikes it and easily catches it on fire. it screeches as it burns and dissolves, but another snake wraps around him and constricts him.

“wooyoung!” you yell as jongho rushes up and grabs the snake, able to pry it off of wooyoung. his raw strength easily overpowering it. the three of you regroup, panting and bloodied.

“keep your head in the fight. we need to end this,” you say, pointedly towards wooyoung who refuses to meet your eyes in the moment.

jongho nods, “together.”

you guys decide to combine your power, jongho creating another shockwave to destabilize the demon, wooyoung’s ice shards pinning her in place, and you channeling your remaining energy into your blade.

“it’s over,” you say, leaping forward and delivering the killing blow, severing wonyoung’s head. she lets out a loud cry as her head goes flying, your powers being able to create a large crater in the wall that connects you all to the courtyard where you can see san and seonghwa’s monstrous form fighting sunghoon.

in the courtyard, sunghoon falters for a second as wonyoung’s cry echoes through the compound. his distraction allows seonghwa to attack with feral blows. while san lands a devastating blow, driving his blade across sunghoon’s neck and sends his head flying.

sunghoong’s head lands towards where wonyoung’s head had landed. wonyoung crying out for sunghoon, tears streaming down her face.

“oppa… i’m scared,” she says weakly, the tears continuing to fall.

“it’s okay, little one, i’m here,” sunghoon says back, voice breaking as he begins to watch as wonyoung’s body and head dissolve. seemingly not caring that his own is doing the same thing. finally, their bodies and head turn to ash, the wind blowing them away.

seonghwa falls to his knees, having transformed back into his human self. you limp towards san and seonghwa, collapsing next to seonghwa, arms wrapping around him as the tension in the air remains heavy.

“it’s okay,” you say quietly as you hold seonghwa in your arms, just like how he has done for you.

ateez compound – courtyard – dawn

the team gathers, battered and bloodied, in the courtyard. the compound was completely destroyed by the two demons. hongjoong and yunho rush in, their expressions dark and grieve-stricken as they take in the scene before.

“what happened?” hongjoong asks, voice low and slightly commanding.

“we stopped them,” jongho answered, exhaustion heavy in his voice as he leaned against a piece of debris.

you lean against a wall, glancing down at your hands, yeosang doing his best to patch your wound up. san sitting next to seonghwa, still comforting the villain, calming hand running down his back. wooyoung stares blankly, fists clenched.

“i trusted her…” he says quietly.

“she fooled all of us. don’t put that on yourself,” jongho says firmly. he turns to hongjoong and yunho before quietly filling them in on everything that happened. otherwise, you and the rest of the team sit in silence, the weight of the destroyed compound heavy in the air.

TO BE CONTINUED IN PART II

#snakesandplottwists #ateez x reader #ateez smut #ateez imagines #poly ateez x reader #ateez superhero au #ateez scenarios #ateez angst #ateez san x reader #ateez seonghwa x reader #ateez yunho x reader #ateez wooyoung x reader #ateez dark au

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heliomanteia · 12 hours ago

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This might come off as sort of... corny? Cheesy? but half the joy has been the friends we made along the way.

There are going to be vitriolic morons that will use corporate layoffs we've been witnessing for a while to portray the latest installment in a negative light. Ignore them. Block the hell out of a part of the fandom if you need to, the whining is ever-present around these places. Enjoy the game. It is a good, lore accurate Dragon Age game. It introduced a lot of new people to the wider franchise. There are people playing other installments for the first time and it's a joy to see. It is a breath of fresh air. Enter a better part of the community, make friends if you wish, hell knows it's so easy to do when this game inspired such a flow of creative energy.

Dragon Age has always been crafted by its loving fans as much as it was shaped by its talented devs. There would not be Dragon Age without its creators (put some damn respect on their names) and there would not be Dragon Age as we know it without its enthusiastic community.

A franchise is only as good as the people who love it. Personally, DA has been there for me through some of the fundamental times of my life, it's changed me and changed with me. It is my special interest, it is my lifelong friend, and it is going to stay. I don't need corporate approval to find joy in things and I do not pin my enjoyment on how high something ranked in a list made by people who only care about profit. Hope you can find joy too. Stick around.

The gold and glory are yours now, to use as you will.

#🌞#I just got home and I KNOW there will be idiots who think they're SOOO cool for just like? being assholes?#Y'know I'm not someone who cares what others think about my interests but I know a lot of people crumble under peer pressure and #This one is for you: a bitch that can't hold down a snark isn't worth your time. Find a better community ( we are here )#dragon age #datv #veilguard positive #bioware #<- sorta

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aft3rhrs · 2 days ago

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Hey guys! 🩷 Thank you so much for your asks and messages 🩷

Honestly I just wanna get something off my chest. Someone asked me if I'm leaving or using a new blog. Both? I made a new blog, but somehow the thought of coming back here still feels so uncomfortable. And I realised it's because I addressed and worked through the 'hate' part and all.

But... there is also an issue I have had with my own readers that I didn't expect to have.

Look, there is absolutely nothing wrong with having your kinks and all. My blog itself is pretty crazy.

But... it's fictional.

It seems not only 'haters' can't separate reality from fiction, but sometimes readers too.

There is a reason I have never called my blog a "kink blog" (again, nothing wrong with that!), but rather stuck to horror.

I have talked about this before but as my interest in darker shows and works grew, I wanted to write a horror story and I realised I had no idea how to, because I have spent all my life writing pg 13 romance and fantasy 😭

I wanted to get out of my comfort zone and challenge myself. So I jumped into deep waters with requests, hoping for inspiration, and for the first time tried writing horror AND smut.

I love storytelling, I love exploring new things in writing, so even though the smut part is so big on my blog, I always give my characters personalities and back stories (at least I try lmao) and dive into their mental state because... I love writing.

And I did always want my blog to be a safe space for everyone... but that's including myself.

And I feel like some people just.... I'm sorry I'm just gonna say it.

What do you mean you want a fic based on the The Burning Sun Scandal. WHAT DO YOU MEAN. 😭 What do you mean you want me to write about your cousin. 😭😭

Am I crazy??? That's a REAL tragedy, guys, and it's so fucking upsetting and disrespectful to the survivors. And no one even stops to think the author might be upset or triggered bc they're a survivor too or bc this is, again, A REAL TRAGEDY????

It's like watching murder on a screen. It doesn't affect you the same way a real life murder with a real victim would! But it might still be too upsetting or violent so warnings exist for that.

"Um you write non con that happens in real life too" absolutely. But I am not getting inspo from REAL CASES involving REAL PEOPLE and real trauma. The people, places, events, are MADE UP, and if any feelings or situations are inspired by experiences, they're MY OWN experiences, and even then my work is far from reality.

I am not glorifying Dahmer and writing smut about him ok?

😭😭😭

And the thing is we talked about this before and I thought I made that super clear on my blog, always.

If it wasn't before, then I guess this is the post I'm gonna have to pin somewhere.

I just... I expected this from the tea blog clowns, who are shocked a writer writes fictional non con but advocates for real victims 😭 Like you write about war and suddenly you're a real life dictator. 😭

It's OK to make mistakes and learn. I'm just so so so tired of dealing with people who don't care to learn and it almost makes me feel bad for writing here. I know I can't be responsible for my readers and I can't control who follows me. But just.

If it wasn't clear before. Even though I have this in my intro post.

I'm sorry if you were looking for something else, there are other blogs for that. I'm just a writer writing fictional stories.

The only Burning Sun Scandal fic I would ever write would be with all the men getting, literally, burned to death. 💀

Anyway. Sorry, I had to get that out, I feel like I have had so much to deal with on this blog and I'm just working through it.

Take care of yourselves 🩷 hope you're all staying warm and eating well.

I will be back around to check in soon, maybe edit a fic? Who knows, maybe getting this out will make me feel better. Love you sm 🩷🫂

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ataleofcrowns · 3 days ago

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Hey! I love AToC and have been following its development for a few years now. But whenever a new chapter was released, and I sat down to read it, I often found it hard to carve out time to do so. So, it got me thinking - if it’s hard for me to read it consistently, how much more difficult must it be to write it consistently? It is admirable the act of writing this takes, And while I’m sure there are slower periods in the whole process, it’s inspirational how you dedicate time to writing. I write sometimes, definitely not a lot, and I want to dabble in a few short stories. So, how do you put in that time or really cultivate that habit of writing - especially when pesky "IRL logistics" get in the way? Are there any specific rituals or routines that help overcome such circumstantial challenges? I’ve been in a bit of a rut with the pen lately, and honestly, hearing anything - whether it’s how you approach sitting down to write or just your thoughts on the process - would be incredibly helpful at best and, at the very least, really interesting to hear! Appreciate you sharing your thoughts if you’re able :p

I take an ice bath, chug 6 cans of energy drink back to back, sit down and white knuckle my desk while yelling "LOCK IN" and write 10k words in one hour-

Ok but seriously, I appreciate the ask!! 💖

And honestly it's just a matter of forming the habit, at least for me. I try to write at the same time every day. For me that's in the evenings since I'm more productive at night, but other people might feel more productive in the morning or the afternoon, it all depends! Once it becomes a habit it's much easier to switch your brain to Writing Mode around the same time every day.

When you first start trying to form the habit, don't be down on yourself if you don't get a lot of writing done at first. Try to write things that pique your interest, even if the scenes or snippets aren't in chronological order. Getting something on the page is what's most important!

Also, don't be too hard on yourself while writing, and try not to edit while you write either. This is a bad habit I used to have that I had to unlearn because of my perfectionism, but it's perfectly fine to have a bare bones first draft that you can return to filling out later. Your first draft is not supposed to be perfect, so just focus on writing it first, and evaluating it later.

And write what you feel inspired to write! Like, sometimes I can't be bothered to write out descriptions or character actions, but I get inspired to write a certain conversation between characters, so I literally skip all the descriptive words and only write out the dialogue. Other times I feel inspired by worldbuilding that I want to add, or an environment that I really want to describe, so I write snippets for that, etc.

I also like setting wordcount goals for myself because I get a dopamine boost when I hit the target and it feels like I accomplished something. If you go that route, start out small! Like 250 words every day for example, and as you get into it, bump it up little by little. It also feels good if you go over your wordcount goal, at least for me.

Some other minor things that have helped me: putting on background music (ymmv), removing all potential distractions by closing everything on my pc and fullscreening my writing program, ensuring I have a place where I can write uninterrupted, drinking my favorite tea, motivating myself with rewards for once I hit my wordcount goal (snacks/video games/watching a show).

I hope any of this is useful for you!!

#scilla-forbesii #ask #advice

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pickledkiwiberry · 2 days ago

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Ooh! Oh! I might be able to help here!

Limitation: I don't have dyslexia so there'll have to be some extra trial and error here, but let's see.

Alright:

Option 1 (easiest if available): Macros

If your C-like language supports macros, you can define a list of substitutions to let you use keywords instead of symbols. The C standard library actually has a predefined set of them in a file called iso646.h:

#define and && #define and_eq &= #define bitand & #define bitor | #define compl ~ #define not ! #define not_eq != #define or || #define or_eq |= #define xor ^ #define xor_eq ^=

source: IEEE Std 1003.1-2024 (POSIX)

You can access it with #include <iso646.h> in POSIX systems. If you don't have that header available but you do have macros, you could just copy and paste the list you see above into a header for you to import in all your files.

This is actually defined to help people with non-English keyboard layouts that often don't have easy access to the same set of symbol characters as the creators of C. It may help you with readability.

You're of course not limited to that predefined list! You can #define whatever you like. If semicolons are a difficulty, you could add #define SEMI ; or something of the like!

Option 2 (high effort but most powerful): Transpiler

If macros aren't available or just aren't sufficient, you can write or commission a transpiler -- that's a compiler that instead of outputting assembly or machine code will output another programming language.

A great classic example of this is CoffeeScript. It uses a Ruby-like syntax and compiles into JavaScript, which uses a C-like syntax. This makes it much easier to read for a lot of people. They also add a lot of convenience features to make it easier to write in general.

Depending on the C-like language you're using, there may be a transpiler that already exists using a syntax that's easier for you to read. If not, you could write your own! Or get somebody else to write you one. Writing compilers and transpilers can be really fun! I've done it... too many times.

The key thing is figuring out what syntax you DO like. If assembly is easy for you to grok, maybe something like BASIC would be a good inspiration?

Option 3 (least effective): Special Fonts

Some fonts are designed to make symbols easier to read in C-like languages. MonoLisa comes to mind, but honestly if the issue is dyslexia I think the weird shit that font does would make it worse for you. So, I recommend looking into those options but I suspect it's the least viable.

Note: MonoLisa is a font you have to buy, but I've seen other fonts that do similar things. I just don't recall what their names are.

A note on accessibility in programming

Honestly this field is just a son of a bitch when it comes to accessibility. So many of the languages and tools we use are built on the assumption that you don't even have a mild disability. I have an incredibly mild near-sighted prescription and I still find myself often struggling to work with some of the more arcane tools in our field.

But it doesn't have to be that way. If we work together to make better, more accessible tooling, we can build a better, more accessible industry.

So I hope on of the above suggestions is actionable for you, or at least points you in the right direction. Because UE Blueprint fucking sucks.

Microcontrollers scare me

#programming #accessibility #dyslexia #c #macros #transpilers #compilers #fonts #ue blueprint fucking sucks #i have all visual programming languages #like i understand they can be more accessible #but they all seem to be designed to take as much time as possible to write the most control structures #there has to be a better way #having to convince programmers that accessibility needs to be part of minimum viable product should not be this fucking hard #having to convince companies of the same shouldn't be harder i mean for fucks sake their lawyers should shove that down their throat

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thesummerestsolstice · 11 months ago

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Peredhel biology is interesting. They can become mortal or immortal; and it's not entirely clear what the "default" setting is. Is it even the same for all half-elves? What are the implications of being part-elf and part-man? And that's not even getting into the part-Maiarin or pseudo-Maiarin(? Earendil?) Peredhel. There are a lot of really interesting ideas and interpretations there, but I'd like to share a few I've been wanting to write about:

The Peredhel choice is a myth; whether half-elves become mortal or immortal is baked into their biology. Because of the nature of twins, one will always be mortal and one will always be immortal. (I'm mostly thinking about the implications for Elrond and Elros here because I don't even want to consider what that would mean for Elladan and Elrohir)

Peredhel have the strange ability to "mimic" those around them; they appear more elvish amongst elves and more mannish amongst men. No one really knows how they do this, but it's led to lots of stories about "changelings."

Actually, lots of Peredhel have weird, vaguely mystical abilities. Think about the kind of things you'd read about in a fairytale- speaking to animals, unusual strength, preternatural charm. These things aren't unheard of amongst elves or men, but they're a lot more common amongst Peredhel. It's suspected to be some sort of Ainuric boon, or possibly a result of half-elven souls being more "flexible."

Because their souls are inherently kind of unstable, Peredhel fade more easily then elves. That being said, the "symptoms" of fading are different (elves will literally become translucent, while half-elves will lose weight, sleep for most of the day and still be tired, etc.), so it's often assumed to be a normal mortal illness until it becomes a life-threatening situation.

Ulmo has kind of adopted the Peredhel as his people. He's their patron, and he cares for them all. Many half-elves live or work near or on the ocean, and for those who are immortal, the desire to sail west generally manifests less as wanting to go to Valinor and more a literal desire to go to the sea. Half-elves who are inclined to pray usually do so to Ulmo. There's a reason that Rivendell is protected by a river. Also, yes, Earendil is still absolutely Ulmo's guy, he's just also Varda's guy. They have a very friendly custody agreement.

#silmarillion #silm headcanons #peredhel #eldritch peredhel #half elves #peredhel meta #elrond #elrond peredhel #elros #elladan #elrohir #earendil #ulmo #thoughts!#not sure which of these I want to write about first #hope they might inspire some other people too

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melverie · 9 months ago

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Aaaaaaahhhhhhhh today I've been constantly experiencing the urge to un-private today-in-the-devildom & start writing for it again

#i'm gonna ramble in the tags but #i've been talking with starr (if you're reading this--hi starr!! <3) about the blog today and sharing some of the entries #and it just made me miss it so much #+ the conversation actually made me realize some other reasons why i didn't enjoy the blog in general anymore #like i genuinely love the blog and i genuinely loved writing for it & that conversation reminded me of that #but also there were so many reasons that ultimately pushed me to more or less abandon the blog & then later private it too #so i'm kind of at a loss here #tbh i think i'm mostly just scared to pick the blog up again only for it to end exactly like last time i picked it back up #i've actually always wanted for the blog to be a source of inspiration y'know?#like the things mentioned in the entries are kinda just small ideas right #i was hoping that people would read these & feel inspired to write or draw something of their own based on my entries #that was actually what made me start the blog in the first place. the hope that i could inspire others that way #aaahhhhhh.... maybe it's on me since i could have more openly communicated that idea......#i did get to meet one wonderful person who wrote a few fics based on my entries tho!! (hi ali <3)#but yeah..there's that #also the way engagement just dropped significantly after a while #like i know i was gone for a good while & that a lot of people left the fandom and all that #but still getting maybe one reblog if i'm lucky really feels like a punch to the gut #ESPECIALLY considering that i was close to 900 followers on there #do you guys know that feeling when you proudly show someone you care about something you did only to get a disinterested answer?#yeah...#that's essentially how it feels like to me #and well as you might know the feeling of “why should i keep writing if apparently no one cares” eventually won... haha.....#but aaaahhhhh i'm still clinging onto the hope & what ifs here #that conversation with starr really just made me forget about everything that frustrated me about the blog & left me with this #longing feeling to start again lol #hey if you've made it this far into the tags let me just ask--would you care if i picked the blog back up?#would you also *show* that you care?#i'm actually quite curious (you could almost call me george lol)#anyway maybe we'll see each other on today-in-the-devildom again in the future.. who knows

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outlying-hyppocrate · 3 months ago

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I DO NOT WANT TO MAKE UKULELE MUSIC BUT IT IS WHAT I HAVE.

#random thoughts #AND IF I AM PIGEONHOLED INTO THE STEREOTYPICAL TRANSMASC MUSICIAN BOX I SHALL EAT YOUR EYES OUT.#there's piano too. and there will be whispering. and screaming. and various other sounds.............#would like to be more like the people who inspired me to make music (will wood stomach book malice mizer) but i guess i have to make do.#with my shit. oh well.#there are going to be so many sounds. 39 specifically is going to have subliminal messaging. and you might get some. insect noises in samsa #you can guess why for both of those. (how revealing!!)#also i feel like 39 should have a music video but i don't have anything to do it with. ):#i hope that ONE DAY my music shall exude. vampiric dissociative death spiral. a creature at the heart of the forest screaming secrets #but also just a boy who is tired of pretending at the end of it all. track 09 is just so intensely that.#i think my favorite song on the album is 39. which is ironic because it's about the one thing i don't tell people.#but it's so good i don't know. visceral. reflective of my style perhaps ?#there's a ticking metronome in the background that penetrates your ears and hurts you ! ! ! ! !#and i don't bother trying to be poetic. i use my long and tangled words and i make them vulgar and violent.#i also like affections & apologies because it's the opposite. it's sweeter. most importantly it's for ciel. that's what matters. {:#afterwards i plan on releasing a song composed entirely of poetic nonsense.

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dksfml · 3 months ago

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off my face - yjw

pairing: jungwon x reader genre: soulmate au, mega FLUFF word count: 6.6k summary: in a world where each person has a soulmate mark indicating where they will be touched by their soulmate for the first time, there’s jungwon—the soccer team captain you’d like to be ruined by forever—who has no soulmate mark at all. what does that make you, someone whose mark has changed color because of him? author's note: finally!! here's your most awaited blond jungwon fic that i skipped sleep for<3333 inspired by this amazing prompt my friend sent me.

One touch and you got me stoned. Higher than I've ever known. You call the shots and I follow. Sunrise, but the night still young. No words, but we speak in tongues. If you let me, I might say too much.

You sat near the front row, posture perfect, eyes narrowed as Professor Min’s lecture on ancient mythology took a surprising turn. Today’s topic wasn’t just history—it was soulmate lore, the mysterious marks everyone was born with, and the myths that surrounded them. The professor’s calm, seasoned voice filled the room, but the air buzzed with barely contained excitement. Everyone was alert, even the usual back-row whisperers, captivated by the promise of something rare: a sanctioned discussion about their most private marks.

“These soulmate marks,” Professor Min began, his gaze sweeping the room with a faint smile, “are said to be the final traces of a bond forged in a past life. Legends tell us that in each lifetime, we may be separated from our soulmates, lost to distance or circumstance. But the marks,” he gestured to his own faintly darkened palm, “are said to be the soul’s way of leaving a trail—a reminder.”

A murmur rippled through the room. Everyone had a mark, a small patch of inky darkness, as distinct as fingerprints, mapped out on their bodies. Some had them on their palms or fingertips, waiting for the day a handshake or brush of fingers would light up that mark with color. Others had them in more curious places, whispering of fated touches in the most unlikely moments.

"The legend says," Professor Min continued, "that these marks were painted by one’s soulmate in a past life, a vow made in hopes to meet again, to find each other across time."

You clenched your pen a little tighter, the faint tickle of wonder battling the urge to keep your expression blank and unfeeling. You’d always kept your interest in soulmate marks private. They seemed so full of mystery, and the idea of your soulmate waiting for you somewhere was oddly… reassuring. You glanced down, conscious of the mark behind your knee, hidden like a strange secret that even you could barely understand. What kind of first touch would even reach there? The thought was both amusing and baffling, and you stifled a wry smile.

Around you, other students leaned in to chat, loud enough that their conversations blended into a steady hum. Your classmate Arin nudged her friend, laughing as she displayed the faint mark on her palm. “I’ve been dying to know who’ll shake my hand one day,” she whispered excitedly, her eyes glimmering with hope.

But your gaze drifted just beyond Arin, landing instead on a familiar figure lounging in the middle row with his legs stretched out, looking every bit like he was born to disrupt things without lifting a finger. Jungwon. Handsome in a way that seemed almost unfair, with striking, dark eyes framed by lashes that cast subtle shadows on his cheeks, and hair the color of midnight that fell in soft, tousled waves. He had this effortless, magnetic presence that drew people toward him, like he knew he didn’t need to try.

As captain of the soccer team and one of the most well-known faces on campus, Jungwon somehow managed to look both sharp and relaxed, as if the attention his looks or reputation brought him meant nothing. You’d been crushing on him since last year, an avid fan always present at his games, cheering him on like a lovesick fool. Whenever he scored a goal, you felt your heart leap, and you couldn’t help but unleash your inner fangirl, your excitement spilling over as you screamed his name. Right now, he seemed half-listening to his friends, a hint of a lazy grin tugging at the corners of his mouth as he leaned back, eyes drifting up to the ceiling before refocusing on his friends. It was that easygoing confidence that made him impossible not to notice—and, for you, impossible not to think about.

It was a boy from his friend group, Jay, who interrupted the class chatter by slapping a hand down on the table and teasing, “Come on, Won. You don’t have a soulmate mark, my foot. No one gets off that easy.” The comment was light-hearted but loaded, and more than a few students turned to look.

To your surprise, Jungwon didn’t react with one of his usual witty comebacks or careless shrugs. Instead, he just rubbed the back of his neck, a hint of something almost vulnerable flashing across his face. “No, really,” he insisted, almost apologetically. “I don’t have one. I checked a million times as a kid.”

Your pen paused mid-note, and a slight, irrational disappointment prickled in your chest. It was hard to believe, especially about someone like Jungwon, whose very presence seemed destined to leave a mark on others. Soulmate marks might be rare, but someone like him not having one? It felt impossible, like a missing piece that no one noticed until it was too late.

For a fleeting moment, you wondered if maybe he just hadn’t found it yet. After all, some people only discovered their mark when it finally turned to color. Sometimes it wasn’t a visible spot on the skin but something far subtler—a shadow in the hue of their lips that would only brighten after a first kiss, or a darkness lingering in an eye, invisible until the gentle touch of someone wiping away their tears brought it to life. The thought sent a strange warmth to your cheeks as you glanced back toward him, wondering if Jungwon’s missing mark was just waiting for the right person to unlock it.

Still, he looked surprisingly honest, a faint hint of sadness clouding his otherwise bright gaze. For someone so magnetic, it was as if he was caught drifting in space, without any tether connecting him to anyone at all.

“Alright, alright,” Jay relented, raising his hands in surrender but laughing all the same. “Guess someone’s too cool to be fated to anyone, huh?”

The professor’s voice cut back in, and you forced yourself to refocus, though your mind lingered on Jungwon’s quiet expression and the flicker of something in his eyes, something both resigned and deeply private. Could he really be alone in a world where everyone else was bound to someone?

“Imagine having your mark on your knuckles,” Arin whispered beside you with a grin, oblivious to the moment that had just passed. “You’d probably knock your soulmate out before you even realized they were ‘the one’!”

Another round of laughter scattered through the room, like a shared inside joke. The air felt charged, as if everyone were suddenly curious about each other’s marks, glancing around with new eyes. You let out a small sigh, tapping your pen against your notebook with a faint smile. As much as you tried to keep up the class president, model-student act, the idea of soulmates fascinated you in a way you’d never quite admit.

When the bell finally rang, the room filled with that familiar end-of-class chaos. You started packing up, keeping your head down—until you noticed Jungwon slinging his bag over his shoulder, looking effortlessly put-together, as usual. He laughed at something his friend said, his expression relaxed, his dark eyes flickering with amusement. But you couldn’t help catching the faintest flicker of something else in his gaze as he glanced at his friends—like a momentary, unguarded look that felt… wistful?

Okay, maybe that was just you being overly imaginative.

You let out a little huff as you slung your own bag over your shoulder, shaking off the strange pity you’d felt moments before. So what if Jungwon didn’t have a mark? You barely even knew him. Well, you kind of knew him, but from a distance—and with way more daydreams than you’d like to admit. Still, it was silly to wonder about him, right? With your head full of these thoughts, you walked out into the hallway, lost in a world where maybe, just maybe, he was wondering about you, too.

And as you brushed past a group of friends, laughing and shoving each other, your hand slipped over the back of your knee, where your own mark was hidden—quiet, waiting, and as mysterious as ever.

The sky was an endless blue, stretching wide over the school field as your class spilled out onto the grass for PE. With the teacher conveniently on vacation, today’s instructions were simple: enjoy the free time. Most of your classmates took to the field, breaking off into little clusters for a lazy game of soccer, light stretches, or simple gossip sessions by the bleachers.

As class president, you took it upon yourself to ensure no one went too far or caused trouble. Your duty, as you saw it, was to survey your classmates from a slight distance, keeping an eye out with the calm, serious gaze you’d carefully perfected. Yet even from the sidelines, your eyes found themselves drifting toward a familiar figure on the field, drawn to him like magnets.

Jungwon was at the center of the field with his friends, casual and relaxed, but his every move carried an elegance that made your pulse skip. He was laughing at something his friend said, his eyes crinkling as he kicked the soccer ball back and forth, the glint of a confident smirk tugging at his lips. His ease on the field was mesmerizing, a mixture of strength and grace that made it hard to look away.

You reminded yourself to focus, scanning the field to check on the other groups. But before you could pull your attention back entirely, a voice called out, and you saw Jungwon pivot to chase the soccer ball—only for it to ricochet off his foot, headed directly toward you with alarming speed.

In the split second it took you to react, you felt a sharp thud against the back of your knees. The impact sent you stumbling forward, knees buckling beneath you as you tumbled to the ground. Pain flared up where the ball had struck, but it was drowned out by the shock of it all.

“Oh no—are you okay?” Jungwon’s voice was breathless with concern, his steps hurried as he reached you. You barely had a chance to process his arrival before he knelt beside you, face flushed and clearly panicked. His hand hovered awkwardly as if afraid to touch you, his usual calm replaced with something far more vulnerable.

“I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to— Are you hurt?” he stammered, his voice unusually soft. He reached out gently, his hands carefully brushing against your arm as he tried to help you up. “Can you stand?”

Your mind struggled to catch up to the moment, and it took everything you had to keep your stoic demeanor intact. Jungwon was close, closer than he’d ever been, and the intensity of his worried gaze was unexpectedly disarming. Even as pain pulsed through your knee, you couldn’t help but stare, captivated by how intensely he focused on you, as if everything else in the world had fallen away.

“I’m fine, really,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. But as soon as you tried to stand, pain shot up your leg.

Jungwon’s expression shifted to one of determination, and before you could protest, he slid one arm under your knees and lifted you up, his other arm around your shoulders. The world tilted as he held you in a firm, steady grip, his face barely inches from yours. “We’re getting you to the nurse. No arguments.”

You blinked, momentarily stunned by his closeness, by the warmth radiating from him. “Oh—okay.” The words left your mouth almost on instinct, your brain still catching up with the fact that Jungwon was carrying you, his focus set entirely on you. His hands brushed your arm as he adjusted his grip, and you felt a strange warmth bloom under your skin, something unfamiliar and electric.

The walk to the nurse’s office was quiet, but you couldn’t ignore the way his gaze flickered to you, the gentleness in his expression as he murmured, “Sorry again. I’d never forgive myself if I hurt the class president.”

Your lips parted, searching for something to say, but the way he looked at you—soft, maybe even a bit shy—left you wordless. All you could do was nod, your heart pounding louder with each step as you held onto the feeling of his arms around you, wondering if he could hear it too.

It wasn’t until you glanced down that you noticed it—a faint shift of color beneath your knee where the ball had struck. The mark, once hidden and dark, now radiated a subtle but unmistakable bright yellow hue, soft and warm against your skin.

You froze, eyes wide, as the realization settled in. Jungwon was still mumbling apologies, unaware of the discovery you’d just made. Only he could have caused the mark to change; he was the only one who had touched that spot. The idea left you breathless, your mind scrambling to make sense of it all.

In the clinic, the nurse examined your knee with a quick, professional assessment. “You’ll be fine,” she declared, sending you off with an ice pack and a faint smile. But your thoughts were still racing, tangled up in the startling realization that Jungwon might actually be your soulmate.

The whole walk back to class, you replayed the moment in your mind, trying to make sense of it. Maybe it was a coincidence. Perhaps someone had brushed the back of your knee at some other time, and you simply hadn’t noticed. But deep down, you knew the truth—the mark had only changed when Jungwon touched you.

And when you returned to class, he was there, hovering near the door with a worried frown. He looked up as you approached, eyes bright with relief.

“Are you okay?” he asked, a slight smile breaking through the concern etched into his features. “I was worried about you.”

Your heart skipped as you nodded, doing your best to keep your voice steady. “I’m fine. Just… a bit shaken up, that’s all.” You felt the weight of the new secret pressing down on you, but you forced yourself to smile.

Jungwon’s shoulders relaxed, and he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck in that effortlessly charming way of his. “I’m glad. I’ll be more careful with my aim next time.”

You smiled back, feeling the weight of the mark’s new color, of the quiet truth only you knew. As Jungwon returned to his seat, your gaze drifted to the back of your knee, where the mark lay hidden under the fabric of your clothes, now touched by color—by him.

In the days following the incident on the field, the world seemed to shift around you, humming with an energy you couldn’t quite shake. The back of your knee, where Jungwon’s touch had changed your soulmate mark to a soft, distinct yellow color, was a constant reminder of the possibility that your crush—Jungwon, the ever-handsome and kind soccer captain—might be something even more significant than you’d ever dared to imagine.

“How’s your knee?” he asked, his voice warm and tinged with that familiar gentleness that made your heart stutter.

“Oh, it’s fine, really!” You waved it off, attempting to tuck your leg further under your desk, hoping he wouldn’t notice the faint new color to the mark that still lingered behind your knee.

Jungwon didn’t seem to buy it. “Are you sure?” he asked, his brows furrowing as he leaned down, intent on seeing for himself. Before he could get a closer look, you tugged your skirt down a little farther, hiding the mark as best as you could.

“I’m sure, really,” you insisted, trying to keep your tone casual. “It’s just a little sore, nothing to worry about.”

For a moment, he hesitated, his gaze lingering on you, unreadable. Then he nodded, standing up with a quiet, sheepish smile. “Alright. I’ll trust you, but only if you promise to let me know if it starts hurting again.”

You managed a nod, clutching your books a little tighter to keep your hands steady. “I promise,” you said, hoping he didn’t notice the flicker of nerves in your eyes.

Your third shared class of the week was English, and just as the teacher assigned the day’s group work, the class began to shift into pairs. Coincidentally (or so you told yourself), the seating arrangement placed Jungwon near you that day.

“Hey,” he said, his voice soft as he approached. He offered you one of his signature, heart-stopping smiles. “Mind if we pair up? I mean…if you’re okay with it.”

With an effort to keep your expression neutral, you nodded. “Sure,” you replied, your voice steady even though your heart was anything but.

Settling at a table near the window, you both pulled out your notebooks. The task was straightforward—analyzing a poem about soulmates. You caught a breath at the irony, and Jungwon, seemingly unfazed, began reading the passage aloud. His voice, low and calm, wove through the words as you listened, though your mind kept wandering to his every movement, the way his eyes flickered thoughtfully over the page, how his fingers held the pencil lightly but with intention.

“What do you think?” he asked, pulling you out of your thoughts.

You cleared your throat, willing your focus back to the assignment. “I think…well, it’s romantic. But it’s also kind of tragic, right? There’s always this sense of waiting—like, what if they don’t meet?”

Jungwon’s gaze flickered up, lingering on your face a little longer than necessary. “Yeah, that’s true,” he agreed, his voice thoughtful. “The idea that you’re waiting your whole life for just one person…it’s a lot of pressure.”

He paused, eyes settling on you, as if searching for something beneath the calm exterior you held so tightly. “Do you… believe in it? Soulmates, I mean?”

Caught off guard, you looked down, your fingers tracing invisible patterns on the edge of your notebook. You thought of your parents, of their own lovely story about finding each other through their marks, and how you’d grown up with those tales of destiny. And now, here you were, sitting with the very boy who might be your own fated match.

“I think,” you began slowly, “that I want to believe in it. My parents…they have one of those classic stories. It’s hard not to believe in soulmates when you’ve heard stories like that all your life.”

He nodded, listening intently. “I get that. I guess…sometimes I wonder what it would be like. But it’s hard to picture when you don’t…you know, have any marks yourself.”

The quiet sadness in his tone took you by surprise. You’d never considered what it might be like to go through life without a soulmate mark, to feel like something intrinsic was missing, a feeling that destiny had passed you by. Suddenly, your thoughts flickered back to the legends the elders told—how markless people were said to carry the weight of unrequited love from a past life, doomed to wander without a soulmate to mark them in this one. The idea hung heavy in the air, mingling with your sympathy for him.

“Maybe it doesn’t matter, then,” you murmured, almost to yourself. “Maybe people without marks find their person too, in other ways.” You couldn’t help but think that perhaps Jungwon was one of those souls, burdened by a love that never came to fruition.

The silence that followed was heavy but not uncomfortable. Jungwon seemed lost in thought, his gaze drifting out the window as he considered your words. And just then, a strange sense of comfort washed over you, knowing that even if he was unaware of it, you shared a connection that went beyond what either of you could see.

“Maybe,” he said finally, and then he flashed you a lopsided grin. “Well, even if soulmates are real, maybe it’s a good thing I’m mark-free. I don’t think I’d want someone to find out I was their soulmate because I hit them with a soccer ball.”

His laughter rang out, and you couldn’t help but join him, but beneath the mirth, your heart clenched. You wanted to tell him everything—to reveal the secret that could bridge the chasm between you. But as the words formed on your lips, fear gripped you. What if you were wrong? What if he truly didn’t have a soulmate mark, and this moment of connection was just a fleeting illusion?

So you swallowed hard, plastering a smile on your face that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Well, let’s just keep that between us, then,” you replied, hoping to mask the anxiety swirling inside you.

Inside, the truth weighed heavy, a secret that felt more like a burden than a bond. Keeping it hidden seemed safer, easier—even if it left you feeling like a ghost, drifting alongside him but never truly reaching out. The thought of him being one of those markless souls—the ones who carried the pain of a love never realized—made you ache. You didn’t want him to feel that emptiness, and yet, here you were, hiding a truth that might shatter the fragile connection you shared.

Perhaps it was better this way. Better to hold onto your heartache in silence than risk shattering the bond you had built, no matter how tenuous it felt. As you returned to the assignment, the bittersweet taste of longing lingered on your tongue, mixing with the thrill of possibility, leaving you torn between the hope of what could be and the fear of what might never come to pass.

Finally, during your biology class, your teacher assigned a laboratory cleaning rotation. By the luck of the draw—or maybe a twist of fate—you found yourself paired with Jungwon. It was supposed to be a simple task, but as the two of you gathered supplies and began tidying up the classroom after hours, you felt the weight of every quiet moment.

Jungwon appeared beside you as you straightened a stack of textbooks, arms full of markers and erasers. His casual, laid-back attitude only heightened the quiet thrill that being near him sparked in you. As he handed you an eraser, your fingers brushed slightly, and you pulled back quickly, heart racing.

"Are you always this… serious?" Jungwon teased, his lips curving into a half-smile. "I mean, you don’t have to look like we’re cleaning the whole school."

You rolled your eyes, fighting back a smile. “It’s just how I work. I take tasks seriously.”

He nodded, still smiling. “You’re impressive, you know. It’s like…you’re always so composed, like nothing rattles you.”

Caught off guard by his observation, you froze momentarily, not sure how to respond. Behind your serious exterior, you were anything but composed—especially around him. Before you could answer, he turned away to tidy the bookshelves, leaving you wondering if he’d picked up on the effect he had on you.

After a while, Jungwon returned to the task at hand, dusting off a few of the windowsills. It was quiet for a few minutes, the sounds of your combined effort filling the room. You both worked in sync, a silent rhythm that had developed without either of you realizing it. And then, with an abruptness that caught you off guard, he spoke again.

“Hey,” he said, hesitating. “I know this might be a weird question, but… where’s your soulmate mark?”

The question hung in the air between you, heavy with implications you weren’t ready to unravel. Your heart thudded as you carefully set down the books you’d been holding, gathering your thoughts.

You felt a flush creep up your cheeks. "Um, it's… it's on my knee," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. The intimacy of the moment made you shy, and you instinctively shifted your weight, the hem of your skirt falling to cover your knee even more.

Jungwon raised an eyebrow, curiosity glimmering in his eyes. “Oh? Is it… already in color?”

You hesitated for a brief moment, weighing your words. “Uh, yeah,” you replied, biting your lip. “It changed a while ago. But it’s not a big deal.” You left out the part about him possibly being your soulmate, feeling the weight of that truth settle heavily in the air between you.

His expression shifted slightly, disappointment flashing across his features before he masked it with a casual smile. “That’s cool,” he said, his voice a bit quieter now. “I guess… it must be nice to have that certainty.”

“Yeah,” you said, trying to keep the mood light despite the sudden heaviness in your chest. “I mean, it’s comforting, I suppose.”

But beneath your words, a sense of longing stirred. You noticed how his gaze faltered for a moment, and it struck you then how much he had hoped for something different. He had seemed eager, maybe even hopeful, and the realization stung a little.

Jungwon cleared his throat, breaking the silence that had settled over you both. “So, um… did you see the last soccer game?” he asked, trying to steer the conversation in a different direction. “I think we really need to work on our defense.”

His attempt at lightheartedness felt slightly forced, and you could see a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. Still, it was nice to see him trying to shake off the heaviness from moments before.

“Yeah, I caught a bit of it,” you replied, grateful for the shift in focus. “You guys played well, though a couple of those goals were pretty close calls.”

He chuckled, the tension easing just a little. “Yeah, I think I almost gave our coach a heart attack with that last-minute save,” he said, grinning. It was an infectious smile, and you found yourself smiling back despite the weight still resting in the back of your mind.

The annual school festival arrived faster than expected, and the campus buzzed with activity and excitement. Classrooms were transformed into themed booths, hallways were draped with handmade decorations, and students wore colorful festival shirts and badges, their faces bright with paint and laughter. You found yourself stationed at the face-painting booth, brush in hand, ready to tackle the endless line of eager students.

You’d always enjoyed events like these—participating in the festival offered you a rare chance to relax and feel connected to your classmates outside of the usual seriousness you maintained as class president. Here, you were just another student, painting stars, hearts, and stripes on familiar faces.

“Hey, what’s up? Need a painter?” your friend Taeyoung called out to the next group approaching your booth. You followed his gaze and felt your heart skip when you recognized Jungwon and his friends heading your way, laughing and jostling each other. He wore a loose festival shirt with sleeves rolled up, a casual look that somehow made him even more handsome. You quickly glanced down, suddenly hyper-aware of your paintbrushes and the paper towels you clutched a little too tightly.

The booth was busy, and with most of your fellow painters occupied, it didn’t take long for Taeyoung to pair Jungwon with you. “Hey, Y/N, looks like you’ve got a VIP customer! Captain Jungwon wants to be a canvas today,” he said, a mischievous grin spreading across his face as he nudged Jungwon playfully.

Jungwon chuckled, but there was a flicker of something else in his eyes—an eagerness mixed with a hint of shyness. “Yeah, I guess I’m in your hands now,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “No pressure, right?”

You swallowed hard, trying to maintain your composure as your heart raced. “Uh, right! No pressure at all,” you replied, your voice a little too bright. “What do you have in mind?”

You forced yourself to meet Jungwon’s eyes, fighting back the nervous excitement bubbling in your chest. “So… what would you like?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

Jungwon’s usual confident smile softened a little, and he seemed slightly hesitant, rubbing the back of his neck, a gesture that made your stomach flutter. “Maybe a couple of stars on my cheeks? And… maybe a small cat on my forehead?”

You stifled a laugh at his request, realizing that behind his composed demeanor, he had a playful side you hadn’t seen before. “A star and a cat. Got it,” you whispered, dipping your brush into white paint. You reached out carefully to steady his face, tilting it slightly toward the light. Your fingers lightly touched his cheek, and you couldn’t ignore the spark that jolted through you at the contact.

Jungwon closed his eyes briefly, letting out a small breath. You tried to ignore the slight flush you felt creeping up your neck, focusing on drawing a perfect star on his left cheek. You painted in silence, but every so often, he’d open his eyes and glance at you, making your heart race each time.

With one cheek finished, you moved to the other side. He leaned in closer, giving you the perfect angle. The space between you seemed to shrink with every second, the sounds of the bustling festival fading into a distant hum. You were hyper-aware of everything—the faint scent of his cologne, the warmth radiating from him, and how your fingers gently brushed his skin. When you finished with the stars, you pulled back slightly to look at your work, meeting his gaze as you did.

“They look good,” he murmured, his voice softer than usual.

You swallowed, breaking eye contact to reach for a new brush and dip it in black paint. “Now for the cat,” you said, trying to stay calm. “Hold still.”

You carefully moved to part his hair at the center of his forehead. As your fingers brushed through his bangs, you froze, your eyes widening as you saw something strange—a small patch of his dark hair was shifting, lightening to a soft honey-blonde under your touch.

“Um… Jungwon,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath as you stared at the transformed lock of hair falling against his forehead. “Your hair…”

“What about it?” He turned to you with a hint of confusion, glancing up as if trying to catch a glimpse of the change. “Did I mess it up?”

You shook your head, the words tangling in your throat as disbelief washed over you. “It’s… it’s changing color.”

He blinked, clearly caught off guard, then brushed his fingers through the area you’d touched. His movements stilled, the warmth in his expression fading, replaced by something deeper—something unreadable. The air thickened around you, a heavy silence filled with unspoken questions.

“Are you sure?” he asked quietly, his gaze searching yours as if trying to decode the truth hidden beneath your surprise.

You nodded slowly, your heart racing. “Yeah, I… I thought it was just the paint at first, but… it’s definitely not.”

The realization hung in the air, electric and palpable, igniting a spark of tension that sent shivers down your spine. Jungwon’s fingers gently traced the newly lightened strands of hair, his expression a mix of wonder and trepidation. You could feel your pulse quicken, an exhilarating rush flooding through you as you grasped the meaning behind this strange phenomenon.

Time seemed to stretch in that moment, each heartbeat echoing like a drum in your chest. Here he was, the boy you’d admired from afar, unexpectedly transformed before your eyes. Jungwon—the one who had unwittingly painted your world in vibrant colors, now literally changing right in front of you.

Suddenly, self-consciousness washed over you like a cold wave. You averted your gaze, stepping back instinctively. “I—I should go finish with the others. They’re probably waiting for me…” Your voice wavered, betraying the rush of emotions threatening to spill over.

Before you could dwell on it, a paint container wobbled on the edge of the table, knocking into your elbow. In your panic, you stumbled, sending brushes and colors sprawling over yourself. “Oh no!” you yelped, scrambling to clean up the mess.

“Y/N, wait!” Jungwon exclaimed, his eyes widening in surprise. He stepped closer, his hand closing around yours, halting your frantic movements. “Stop. Just breathe.”

His grip was steadying, grounding you amidst the chaos of your racing thoughts. “Let’s find somewhere quiet, okay? You need to clean up.” His voice held a calmness that contrasted sharply with the storm inside you.

You felt a rush of warmth at his concern, but your mind spun with confusion. “But… the booth—”

“Trust me,” he said, his gaze unwavering, a silent promise passing between you. “Just for a moment. Let’s talk.”

With a nod, you allowed him to guide you away from the festival’s noise, your heart racing not just from the moment, but from the undeniable connection building between you. The thrill of discovery was tempered by the anxiety of what it all meant, and yet, in Jungwon’s presence, you felt something shift—something new and exciting, just waiting to be explored.

He led you through a quieter section of the campus, where the walls were lined with colorful murals painted by students, the air filled with the faint scent of paint and creativity. The laughter and chatter from the festival faded into the background, replaced by the gentle rustle of leaves overhead and the distant sound of music drifting from the booths.

As you turned a corner, Jungwon paused, the air around you suddenly thick with anticipation. He glanced around, ensuring you were alone, then leaned against the cool brick wall, his posture relaxed yet focused. His gaze locked onto yours, intensity radiating from him. “My hair… it’s slowly turning blond. Isn’t this what soulmate marks are supposed to be like?”

His words hung in the air, electrifying the space between you. You felt the weight of the moment press down, your heart racing like a wild drum in your chest. “Right… your soulmate mark,” you stammered, the tremor in your voice betraying the chaos inside. “I didn’t want to say anything because I thought it might just be a coincidence, but now… it's all starting to make sense.”

Jungwon stepped closer, the seriousness in his expression deepening. “You mean you knew?” His voice was low, the edge of urgency evident. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

The air crackled with tension, and you felt your pulse quicken. “I didn’t know it was you! I thought—” you cut yourself off, frustration bubbling within you. “I didn’t want to ruin our friendship or make things awkward. You’ve been my crush longer than you’ve been a friend. Do you have any idea how hard it is to keep things from being awkward with you, especially when my mark changed?”

Jungwon’s expression shifted, vulnerability breaking through his confidence. “Your mark... is it.… when did it change? Am I—was it before… or after we met?” His voice was tight, the weight of his words hanging heavily in the air.

You took a deep breath, feeling the memories rush back. “The day you carried me to the nurse’s office, you idiot.”

He blinked, taken aback by your response. “Wait… that day? But I thought...”

His expression softened slightly, the intensity in his eyes shifting as he took a step closer. You held your breath as he knelt down, his fingers hovering over your soulmate mark. The moment felt electric, a mix of vulnerability and anticipation coursing through you.

“Can I…?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, giving him permission to touch it. As his fingers brushed against your skin, a shiver ran down your spine. Jungwon chuckled softly, the sound breaking some of the tension between you. “Can you believe this? It feels just like yesterday when I accidentally hit my crush with a soccer ball at her knees,” he said, shaking his head with a bemused smile. “The same crush I’ve wanted to approach since 10th grade but was always too afraid to mess up, especially with how she glares at boys.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the image of a younger Jungwon fumbling with his words as he tried to impress you suddenly vivid in your mind. “I didn’t mean to scare you off,” you admitted, your heart swelling with warmth. “I thought you were just… confident, you know?”

He shrugged, a hint of shyness creeping back into his demeanor. “I try to be. But it’s hard when you’re crushing on someone who’s out of your league.”

“Out of my league?” you repeated, incredulous. “Jungwon, you’re the captain of the soccer team! Everyone looks up to you.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I’m not nervous around you,” he replied, his gaze locking onto yours, sincerity pouring from his words. “It’s different with you. You make me want to be better.”

The air between you thickened with unspoken emotions, each heartbeat echoing the connection that had always been there, waiting to be acknowledged. You both stood on the edge of something monumental, the laughter of the festival fading away, leaving only the two of you and the promise of what lay ahead.

The next day, Jungwon strolled confidently down the hallway, his head of hair transformed into a stunning honeyed blonde that turned heads with every step. The shift was striking—bold, noticeable, and oddly fitting—making it seem as though he had always intended to embrace this change. Whispers and awestruck glances followed him like a gentle wave, yet beneath that cool exterior, you could see the spark of mischief in his eyes, especially when they met yours.

“Wow, he really went all out,” Arin murmured beside you, her voice a mix of surprise and admiration. “He must’ve bleached the whole thing. I didn’t think Jungwon had that in him.”

You nodded, trying to maintain your composure while your heart raced. “Yeah… surprising, isn’t it?” you replied, though a smile betrayed your nonchalance as you watched him navigate the crowd like he owned the place.

Unaware of the true significance of his transformation, your classmates continued their commentary. “Looks good on him, though,” one girl remarked, her tone infused with genuine admiration. “Like he was meant to have it all along.”

Jungwon seemed completely unfazed by the attention, wearing his new look with a blend of pride and ease, as if his blonde hair was a badge of honor that only you understood. It was a mark that connected the two of you in ways that no one else could fathom—an intimate secret wrapped in boldness.

As the hallway thinned out, he lingered by his locker, his casual demeanor slipping just a bit as he caught your gaze from across the hall. He lifted a hand, brushing back his hair with an effortless charm that sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach—a subtle nod to the secret you shared.

You walked over, your heart pounding just a little faster than usual. “It suits you,” you said, keeping your voice low, the air between you thick with unspoken words.

His eyes softened, gratitude shimmering in their depths. “Good to know,” he murmured, his tone low but filled with warmth. “After all, it’s your fault it looks this good.”

A faint blush crept up your cheeks at his words, and before you could respond, he leaned in slightly, lowering his voice even more as he added, “And don’t worry. The secret’s safe.”

In that crowded hallway, with laughter and footsteps echoing around you, it felt like you and Jungwon were enveloped in your own little world. His blonde hair, like a silent vow, was a reminder of what only the two of you understood: a hidden connection, pulsing with promise and anticipation, waiting to be explored.

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readwritealldayallnight · 3 months ago

Text

Learning

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Reader

wc: 1k words

warnings/tags: fluff

“Said it would’ve made too much of a mess. Waste o’ his money.” Simon says, slopping another spoonful of pumpkin guts into the large bowl in the middle of the kitchen table. Your usual table cloth has been switched out with an array of this weeks newspaper, the black and white print covered in the sticky remnants of your idea of fun on a Friday before Halloween.

“Not even one?” You attempt to pose the question casually, hoping to disguise the sadness in your tone, concealing the way your heart breaks at the thought of a young Simon Riley having never carved a pumpkin, his father not even allowing him to partake in that simple tradition so many others enjoy.

“S’alright, lovie.” He says, seeing right through you and recognizing the hurt you hold for him, an indication of your longing to only see love and joy in his life. If only you knew that’s everything you give him. “Did watch a mate o’ mine shoot his pellet gun at some pumpkins one year, if that makes you feel any better.”

You roll your eyes at his attempt to make you laugh, digging your spoon a little harder into the sides of your own gourd as if it were the one to have wronged you.

“Well then I’m glad I ignored you and got them anyways.” You declare, giving each pumpkin a loving little pat on its side. Simon had told you outside the grocery store, seeing your eyes land on the bright orange displays outside the shop, that they weren’t necessary.

But the both of you knew he would never deny you anything you wanted, and so he ended up carrying the two large pumpkins under each bicep and to the car himself, not letting you lift a finger.

“How’s the inside of yours looking?” You ask him, coming around to his side of the table, affectionately running a hand through the strands of hair at the base of his skull, glancing into the pumpkin he tilts in your direction for you to see. You can feel a shiver go through him at your touch, a soft sigh leaving his lips.

You’re glad he’s home with you, where he can relax, allow his biggest stresses to be his girlfriend ogling his arms as he carved open the tops of pumpkins and gutted them with efficiency.

“You’d have to tell me, love, but I think that’s as empty as it’s gettin’.” He emphasizes by tapping his spoon on the side of the sphere, listening to the dull, hollow echo it gives.

“Looks perfect. Nice work, Simon.” You tell him, planting a quick kiss to his cheek before hopping back over to your seat, leaving him looking a few shades redder than before. “Know what you’re gonna carve?”

“It’s- it’s just a face, innit?” At your question, Simon finds himself pausing. He might have had a different childhood than most, but he wasn’t daft, he knew what a jack o lantern was supposed to look like. Carved eyes, a wicked grin or large frown, sometimes even a nose in between them both.

He didn’t consider himself to be a crafty person, but he’d been a butcher for crying out loud, he could carve some shapes into a pumpkin until it resembled a face, no problem. So why are you asking him about what he’s going to carve.

“Well yeah, that’s the go to, for sure. A classic.” You reassure him, noticing the slight tension returning to his shoulders. “You can carve a face, my love. Some people just do different, they get creative with it.” Shrugging, you grab the marker you’d set aside, beginning to map out the lines for where you plan on carving your own design. You’re distracted, eyes darting between your sketching and your phone where you’ve got the inspiration photo pulled up for reference.

You don’t notice Simon’s eyes squinting ever so slightly at you before darting to the pumpkin in front of him. ‘Get creative with it’? Is that what you’re doing? Is that what you’re expecting him to do? Hoping he’ll do? He glances over at you again and notices you’ve got a bloody reference photo and everything??

He finds his cheeks beginning to burn for a different reason now, feeling stupid over not realizing you could carve more than the standard jack o lantern faces as a tradition. Obviously, you can carve anything you want into a fuckin’ pumpkin, he just didn’t know, he hasn’t done this before, and now he’s gone from feeling almost confident to worried he’s about to make a fool out of himself over something as childish as this.

“Simon.” You say, always more in tune with him than he realizes. “It’s okay, carve anything you want. I’m excited to see what you make.” You smile warmly at him across the table, a small socked foot going to nudge his ankle as well. “Believe it or not, this is supposed to be fun.”

He scoffs at your joke but doesn’t fight the smile that etches onto his face in return. He accepts your distraction when you ask if you should put on some music in the background, walking towards the record player. As he flips through the stack of vinyls, he thinks about just that, what he could possibly carve into that bloody orange sphere sat on his kitchen table, that would be fun.

Searching through any memories he considers as being ‘fun’, he finds a common factor: you. And there’s one more reoccurring element sewn into the fabric of those treasured memories as well: your laughter.

With that in mind, it’s actually quite easy for Simon to decide on what he’ll do finally. And almost an hour later, after you’ve put your blood, sweat and tears into your own pumpkin carving and deciding that the results ended up being just meh, Simon has decided that he’s undeniably the winner of the evening when he spins his creation around and has you nearly crying with laughter, insisting between wheezed breaths that he’s going to make you pee your pants, only leading to Simon’s own laughter bellowing out.

Not too bad for his first time learning.

~~~~~~~~~~

(The kind of pumpkin I’ve decided Ghost would carve 😂)

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vincentbriggs · 4 months ago

Note

so i am newly in a wheelchair which has been a Massive gain in my ability to go out and about. but i realized that i have aprox 0 clothes that look Good while seated. its a completely different silhouette and i am at a loss as to what to do for it. do you have any suggestions for what could look good seated? preferably no skirts or dresses.

Edit: Check the notes for more people's input, including actual wheelchair users who know much more about what works than I could!

Congrats on chair acquisition!!

Since you're sending this to me specifically I am working under the assumption that you mean to do some amount of sewing.

A high waisted silhouette definitely works best for sitting. I make all my pants with the waistband at my natural waist, and a bit of pleating or gathering at the back just like they did on 18th century breeches, and I've never noticed any particular discomfort from sitting in them. (I think high waisted pants are more comfortable in general, and that low rise jeans are evil.)

It's something I've never really thought about before, but sitting is a very legs-forward position, so perhaps a colourful or fancy stripe down the side would work well.

(I made this pair 10 years ago and they didn't fit well and are long gone, but I should do a better version someday...)

Or some other form of side seam decoration, like these fabulous button tabs.

(I don't know what the source for this mid 19th century fashion plate is.)

Cropped jackets would also be good. The first thing that comes to mind for me is the Carmagnole, which was a style worn by French revolutionaries. It's got a pretty similar cut to a regular 1790's coat, just shorter.

(Source)

And there are other styles of short jacket, like this one from a few decades later.

I think it might be possible to get a similar effect from cutting down a thrifted corduroy jacket, depending on the pocket placement? It's not something I've done myself though.

A fancy little bolero could be a lot of fun too! I quite like these ones made by Marlowe Lune. Super easy to sew, and could be patterned by cutting down a bigger pattern that fits the torso.

They'd be a good thing to try if you have a smallish piece of fancy fabric, or a small bit trim to use, or want to try a small amount of embroidery.

There are lots of historical styles with sleeves too, and all sorts of decorations.

(Dunno the source for this one either, unfortunately, but the pin says 1880s reception dress. I think a little jacket like that would look good with a puffy shirt and pants.)

Short capes might be practical too, and the late 19th and early 20th century have tons of fancy capelets for inspiration, like this one.

Or this one.

I hope this is somehow helpful! I don't know if you're looking to sew things from scratch or to buy and alter stuff or what, and I have no personal experience using a wheelchair, but these are the best things I can think of for a suitable silhouette. Dramatic sleeve/shoulder puffs would also be shown off to great effect, if that's something you'd like to wear.

#ask #clothing #wheelchairs

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hopefullhearts · 6 months ago

Text

Sickeningly Sweet [Scott Miller x Reader - Twisters]

summary: You are Tyler Owens' childhood best friend and member of his storm chasing crew. A storm outbreak means you and the gang cross paths with Storm Par on more than one occasion, and your sweet southern charm drives Scott crazy (in more than one way).

content warnings: somewhat heated kissing, no use of y/n, light name-calling/teasing, not proofread/bad writing (I have not written a fanfic in forever), bad taste in candy, & i think that is all!

word count: 3.5k

a/n: I have not written or posted on tumblr in SO long but I saw Twisters for the glenn powell craze and left with a scott/david corenswet obsession and these thoughts must come out of my head.

Shoutout to @hederasgarden and @sailor-aviator for leading the charge for the Scott girlies. All of their writings and drabbles inspired me to write this one, so check them out!

If people like this I might do a smutty part 2! I don't mind writing smut I just feel like it's not very good hahaha but let me know what you think!

You heavily resented the idea that guys and girls could not just be friends, because you'd be damned if Tyler Owens wasn't the best friend you ever had.

You met on the playground in Kindergarten. A boy pushed you off a swing, Tyler defended your honor, and the rest was history.

Tyler's overprotective streak made you view him like the brother you never had, and that's how your relationship remained. He was family, and that was that.

Tyler had always been interested in tornadoes, more specifically, how to track and predict them. You, on the other hand, hated science, including weather, but you loved the thrill of the chase.

In college, you studied marketing while Tyler studied meteorology. So, when Tyler had the idea to start streaming his storm chases, you were right there with him to help grow his brand.

Tyler knows he would be stupid not to credit you with all his success. You set up his streaming account, you edited all the clips and drone footage to post to his social media after the fact, and you even gave him the idea for the "Tornado Wrangler" nickname.

Now that everything was off the ground, you mostly put together streaming highlights and designed the merch, but you were right there in the backseat for every single chase, soaking up all the thrills.

This particular storm outbreak was expected to be a big one, so the whole crew strapped in for a week of bad weather, cheap motel rooms, and of course, a few run-ins with other chasers, including the guys from Storm Par.

"Storm Par's here." You said, gesturing to the fleet of white vans parked at the gas station you had just pulled up to.

"Of course they are." Tyler sighed. "There's probably going to be a lot of damage done by these storms for them to swoop in on. Just ignore them."

"No, we should be polite." You chastised him. "I'm gonna go say hi. Will you get me a cherry coke please?"

Tyler fought back an eye-roll, but nodded with a smile as you both got out of the car. "Of course."

Like everyone else in the crew, the Storm Par guys got on your last nerve. They were all a bunch of Ivy League grads who thought a more expensive degree made them better than everyone else.

However, being raised by your Mama, the epitome of Southern grace and charm, you always put a smile on your face and treated them with kindness. You even occasionally brought them food or coffee if you ran into them in the aftermath of a storm.

And even though you were blissfully unaware of the fact, this drove Scott absolutely mad.

"Hi Scott, Javi." You said cheerfully to the two boys in charge.

Scott replied with a grunt, but Javi was quick to greet you with genuine enthusiasm. "Hey! How are you?"

"I'm doing well." You nodded, smoothing your hands over your athleisure skirt. "Excited for a good chase today. How about you guys?"

"Us too." Javi nodded. "We're hoping to finally get some solid data collection today."

"Ah." You nodded, unsure what to say. You hated the idea of what they were collecting data for, but Javi seemed like a nice enough guy, and Tyler ripped on them enough for the both of you.

"Something on your mind there, princess?" Scott finally spoke, glancing away from his tablet to look down on you (literally and figuratively).

You rolled your eyes. While you would normally love to be called a princess, it always sounded like an insult coming from Scott, his voice always laced with a touch of venom.

"No, nothing at all." You smiled. "Just wondering if we'll see you guys in the aftermath if there's any damage done?"

"Why? Are you looking to increase your t-shirt sales?"

You bit your tongue, doing your best to hold your composure and not let him get to you.

"Nope, just trying to figure out if we need to make some extra to-go boxes for you guys." You decided to focus your gaze on Javi instead, finding him less intimidating.

Javi opened his mouth to speak, but Scott beat him to the punch. "I think we can find food on our own, thanks."

You took a deep breath, choosing your next words carefully. "Okay, well, the offer always stands if you change your mind."

Javi smiled and nodded. "As much as I want to see a good storm today, let's hope we don't have a ton of damage clean up."

You smiled. You knew he had a heart.

"That's something we both can agree on." You grinned. "Stay safe out there you guys!"

With that, you turned and walked away. Scott watched you go, your hair and skirt blowing side to side in the wind.

"Stay safe out there you guys." Scott mocked you under his breath.

"Yo, you don't always have to be a jerk to her, you know."

Scott gave him an unamused look. "She comes out here with her little boyfriend, selling his t-shirts and shit, and then skips over here like we're the best of friends with her thick southern accent. It's all fake."

"For one, I don't think Owens is her boyfriend." Javi corrected. "And two, I think she's just a genuinely nice person. She always says hello, even when everyone else in their crew ignores us like the plague."

"Whatever." Scott mumbled.

As you reached the truck, you took the ice-cold Coca-Cola bottle from Tyler's outstretched hand.

"Thank you!" You said excitedly, twisting the cap off to take a sip.

"How are dumb and dumber?" Tyler teased.

"Javi was nice." You informed him. "Scott was... there."

"Ah, yes." Tyler laughed. "Word on the street is he's a man of many words."

"Right." You agreed sarcastically. "But, when he does speak to me, he always calls me princess, and it drives me crazy."

"In what way?" Tyler said, failing to hold back a smirk.

It took you a moment to realize what he was implying, but when you did, you were mortified,

"Tyler Owens!" You gasped, your face flushing red with embarrassment.

""I'm just teasing you! You make it too easy." He laughed loudly. "In my defense, he looks like exactly like every boyfriend you've ever had."

Your face got even warmer, because he was exactly right. You had a weakness for tall, muscular, dark-haired men, and you especially loved a man who was a challenge.

"That is...irrelevant." You said, covering your face in your hands out of pure embarrassment.

Tyler held his hands up in surrender, as you rushed to talk about anything but Scott. "Let's just figure out what storm we're going after, you jerk." You insulted Tyler, but the smile on your face was ear to ear.

Scott watched the interaction from afar, and his chest twisted at your sickeningly sweet smile. Even if you weren't Owens' girlfriend, your closeness was evident. He ignored the burning feeling that was rising within him, not wanting to question why it was there in the first place.

Tornadoes were scary, but trying to understand how he felt about you? Terrifying.

"Alright, boss man, which storm are we chasing?" Javi pulled him out of his thoughts with a hand clapped on his shoulder, and he finally pulled his gaze away from your smile, the sound of your laughter fading into the background.

The storm was bad.

It hit a small town of about 3,000 people, and you estimated based on the initial damage scene that it was an EF3 at best, maybe even an EF4.

You were currently handing out anything that might be helpful to families who had been impacted by the tornado - blankets, water, heat lamps. pre-made sandwiches and cookies. You tried to offer them any comfort you could with a smile and hug, but you understood the devastation they felt all too well.

In the early days, you would try to help with the damage cleanup, but Tyler insisted that you stay back at the camper and talk to the families.

At first, you were insulted, and you thought that Tyler was insinuating you weren't strong enough to move heavy tree limbs or pieces of drywall. You finally asked him about it one day, and he laughed.

"Absolutely not!" He insisted. "You just have this energy around you that's calming, and these families need that. Your empathy and kindness are doing much more for them right now than cleaning up a bunch of rubble would."

You had never thought of it like that, but once Tyler pointed it out, it became your mission to be the solace that these families in crisis needed.

"Is there anything else we can do for you, Mrs. Smith?" You asked, rubbing the arms of a middle-aged woman who you had been speaking to for a few minutes now.

"No, thank you." She sniffled. "I really appreciate you guys being here. God bless you."

You smiled, giving her another hug. "Please let us know if there's anything more we can do to help."

She nodded, walking away to join her family, who were staring at the remains of their house.

You pushed back tears, feeling silly that this never got any easier for you, but also focused on being the anchor that these folks needed.

Scott saw you before you saw him. He watched you from afar as you did your work. He watched you force a smile and hold these people as they cried. He also watched you look up to blink back the tears before taking a deep breath and moving on to the next.

And damn if it didn't drive him nuts.

This job is easier when he doesn't get involved with the people impacted. It's easier to pretend not to care. But watching you pour your heart out to strangers, just because it's the right thing to do? It made his heart jump, and that scared him.

Ignoring the people involved and ignoring his feelings for you had become increasingly more difficult with every chase.

"Scott!" You called, approaching him with a styrofoam container in your hand.

He sighed, mentally preparing himself as you literally bounced over to him.

How the hell does someone look this good after taking on a tornado?

"Here." You offered him the container. "It's just a ham and cheese sandwich and a cookie."

"I'm really not hungry." He responded.

"Seriously?" You asked, not buying it. "We've all been chasing since 10 AM and it's nearly 8, you have to be hungry."

Scott shrugged, trying to hold back the things he really wanted to say.

"Fine." You sighed. "We're right over here if you change your mind."

"Yeah, I know princess. It's hard to miss you being the town's savior over there."

Scott watched you visibly retract and he internally screamed as his heart dropped. You probably hated him, but it didn't matter anyway. You were far too sweet for him, so putting a wedge between the two of you seemed to be the smartest way to outrun his feelings.

"Wow." You spoke, your voice much smaller and shakier than usual. "I knew you were sarcastic and maybe even a little mean, but I never thought you were actually cruel. So, thanks, for enlightening me."

And with that, you turned and strutted off. This time, you failed to fight back the tears as you returned to the camper.

And to your horror, Tyler was there, taking a break from clean up for some water.

When Tyler sees you cry, his overprotective streak comes out instantly, and right now you didn't want to be protected, because you were so embarrassed that he finally got to you. You were even more embarrassed that you thought that just maybe, he might be a good person under that scowl and hard facade.

"Hey, hey, hey, are you okay?" Tyler rushed up to meet you.

You nodded, trying to stop sniffling. "I'm fine."

Tyler looked behind you to see Scott watching you closely, with a look that almost mimicked longing, and he quickly put two and two together.

"Let me handle this." He insisted.

You shook your head in protest. "No, Tyler, please, he thinks I'm a waste of time anyways, it's not worth it."

"Trust me, he doesn't," Tyler reassured you. "Let me handle this, and if it goes badly, I'll edit all the stream highlights for the next two weeks, okay?"

"Deal." You nodded.

You truly did trust him more than anyone in your life, so you opted to go inside the camper and dry up your tears while he went to speak to Scott. You would let Tyler handle it, but no way were you going to stand there and watch, looking like a puppy who just got kicked.

"Coming to defend your girlfriend's honor?" Scott said sarcastically, trying to mask any emotion he was feeling.

"Dude, seriously." Tyler glared at him. "If you want her attention being a complete and total asshole is not the way you get it."

"Is that what you think? That I want her 'attention'?" He said, framing the last word in air quotes.

"Yeah, I do." Tyler nodded. "I saw the look you gave her as she walked away."

"Okay, so what?" Scott shrugged. "You might be surprised to know I am human and I didn't mean to make her cry."

"Sure." Tyler nodded. "So, what about all the other times I've caught you staring at her, hm?"

Scott stayed silent, stunned speechless.

"Ah, you thought you were better at hiding it, didn't you?" Tyler said with a smug grin. "Every time we end up at the same gas station, restaurant, bar, or motel, your eyes follow her nearly the whole time. And don't even get me started on the holes you burn into my head when I'm talking to her."

"Alright, fine." Scott snapped angrily. "Here to rub it in my face then?"

Tyler sighed in frustration. "No."

"Then what?"

"I'm going to give you a piece of advice."

"Why?" Scott scoffed. "It's no secret that we aren't friends."

"I know her better than anyone else, do you want my help or not?" Tyler asked, his patience nearing its limit.

Scott didn't protest this time.

"Look, no matter what I think about you, you're pretty much exactly her type," Tyler said, much to Scott's surprise. "So if you want her, apologize and tell her how you feel."

"She's not going to feel the same, and she deserves much better than me." Scott retorted. "C'mon Owens, you know what we do. When she comes floating into these broken towns like a heaven-sent angel, I'm collecting data for the devil."

"That doesn't have to be a permanent problem." Tyler pointed out. "Plus, she likes a challenge, and she's definitely brave enough to think she can fix you."

That cracked a smile from both of them, followed by a moment of silence.

"218." Tyler said.

"What?"

"That's the room she's staying in tonight." Tyler said, starting to walk away. "Apologize."

Scott nodded, beginning to formulate a plan on how the hell he was going to get you to forgive him.

You were snug under your blanket in the motel room watching reruns of Modern Family when the knock came.

You sighed and got up, not bothering to check the peephole as you assumed it was just Tyler coming to talk about the day's events.

So when you opened the door to see Scott standing there, you couldn't be more surprised.

"What are you doing here?" You said quietly, nearly breathless at the sight of him.

It wasn't the first time you had seen him outside of that stupid Storm Par white jumpsuit, but it was the first time you had seen him in gray sweatpants and a tight black long-sleeve shirt that clung to his muscles in a way that you could only describe as sinful.

He towered over you, leaning against the frame of the doorway, and you nearly shuddered when you looked up to meet the intense gaze in his eyes.

"I brought you something. As an apology for being an ass earlier today."

"Oh, and what did you bring for all the other times?" You spat back, no longer in the mood to play nice with him.

"I deserve that." He sighed. "Can I come in?"

"Depends." You responded, and he raised an eyebrow. "What did you bring me?"

He handed you a plastic bag, and you opened it to find a Cherry Coke, Sour Patch Kids, and a Honey Bun.

All of your favorites.

"How did you know what I like?" You asked, curious to know if Tyler was behind this.

"You always get some combination of the three at any local gas station." He shrugged.

He remembered because the first time he saw you buy all three he physically rolled his eyes, because, of course, you would buy snacks just as sickeningly sweet as you.

"I didn't know you paid this much attention to me." You said softly.

"Yeah." Scott inhaled a sharp breath. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about. Can I please come in?"

You opened the door, inviting him in with the gesture. The door shut behind you, and there was a brief moment of silence between you two.

"I'm sorry, for being a jerk today and every other time I'm around you." Scott started, visibly nervous as he ran a hand through his hair. "I wish I had a better explanation for why I've been such an ass."

"Yeah, so let's hear it." You said, hands on your hips. "Because I have been nothing but nice to you, even though I don't like who you work for and what they stand for."

"I know." He nodded. "At first, I thought you were being fake or sarcastic because it was unfathomable to me that you would be nice to us when you have absolutely no reason to be."

You nodded, encouraging him to continue.

"But once I learned more about you, and I realized you were being genuinely nice," Scott took a deep breath, building up all his courage. "It knocked me off my feet."

"What do you mean?" You asked, confused at what he was getting at

"I spend most of my time pretending that I don't care about the people that are devastated by all of this, because it's easier that way. But watching you bear your heart and soul to all of these people, just because you can?" Scott scoffed. "It makes it hard to pretend like I don't care about them, or more importantly, about you."

"You care about me?"

"I do." He nodded. "And I was a jerk to you because I thought it would be easier to make you hate me than it would be to admit that I have feelings for you, when you're far too good for me."

His admission stunned you. You can feel your heart thumping out of your chest as you look into his eyes, which look painstakingly vulnerable.

"I completely understand if you don't feel the same way, but I couldn't outrun these feelings anymore, and I wanted to at least let you know that I'm sorry."

The room fell silent as you processed everything he just told you. Scott was panicking inside, waiting for what felt like years for you to say something, anything.

"Do you know why I was always nice to you?" You asked him. "Because I was hoping that somewhere in there you had a good side. I needed to know that you had a heart before I could admit to myself that I felt drawn to you."

"Do you still? Feel drawn to me?"

You nodded. Stepping closer to him so that you were nearly face to face.

"Can I kiss you?"

"Please." You nodded desperately, your words barely above a whisper.

His lips were on yours in a flash, and the pure intensity of the kiss nearly knocked you off your feet. It was heated and rough, but somehow gentle and passionate at the same time. His thumb grazed your cheek as he pulled you closer, and every spot his fingers touched made your skin feel like it was on fire. You couldn't get enough of him.

Once he knew you were comfortable, he took the liberty of exploring you more. His tongue slipped into your mouth gently and his teeth caught your bottom lip, causing a small whimper to come from the back of your throat.

Scott groaned at the sound, letting his mind imagine (not for the first time) all of the sounds he could pull from you.

When the two of you finally pulled away for air, he kept you close, his hands ghosting under your chin around your neck, forcing you to meet his eyes.

"You taste just as sweet as I thought you would," Scott said with a smirk.

"Shut up and kiss me again."

#scott twisters #scott twisters x reader #twisters x reader #twisters #twisters movie #twisters 2024 #scott miller x reader #scott miller #scott miller x you

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5sospenguinqueen · 8 months ago

Text

Bedtime Stories Pt 2 | Daniel Ricciardo x Author! Reader

Summary: Daniel made a silly little comment that lost him everything. Over a year later, he tries his hardest to fix his mistakes.

Warnings: Swearing. A tiny smidge of angst but mainly fluff. Redemption for Daniel.

Female reader with various faceclaims (pics found on pinterest). Takes place in 2023. For the purpose of this, Daniel has been with AlphaTauri the whole time.

Main Masterlist

prev.

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28•05•2023

danielricciardo just posted

liked by redbullracing, YourUserName and others

danielricciardo monaco, always a delight. P11. so close to the points but racing through your streets feels like being on a podium

4,337 comments

landonorris and whose attention are we trying to grab with that sexy last pic 👀

→ danielricciardo only yours, mate

→ User1 don’t act like you’re not dying inside because y/n liked this

→ User2 relax, they never unfollowed each other 🙄

maxverstappen1 you’ll get them next time, mate

→ danielricciardo fancy giving me a tow?

→ maxverstappen1 never

→ User3 i love their friendship so much

User4 um, did anyone see that y/n liked and then unliked this post

→ User5 omg yes! sis was caught stalking and we love her for it

→ User6 i too would thirst over my ex if he looked like that

kellypiquet we were watching the whole time

liked by danielricciardo

→ User7 what a weird comment to make?

→ User8 who’s we, kelly?

→ User9 what does this mean?

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04•06•2023

Tweet 1

User10 @ kikiki babe did you hit your head? is that why you were in the ER? they broke up

User11 @ kikiki maybe ask them to do a head scan whilst you're there 'cause ain't no way you saw here there

→ User12 literally. like why would she even be in spain right now?

Tweet 2

User11 i think we might have to apologise to @ kikiki

→ User10 can we really trust the wag page though? They did report that Lando was having a secret love child the other week..?

Tweet 3

User13 asking the real questions because she's not even hinted that she’s been writing so it’s not like she’s on a book tour or anything?

→ User14 some people are saying she could be on vacation but please, why would mother choose a holiday destination during a time that she knows is a GP?

User15 guys, guys, I think our sacrifice circle worked

→ User16 please, please, 🕯️🕯️

User 17 how poetic would it be though if they got back together during the spanish GP when they broke up at the spanish GP a year ago

User18 shouldn’t you know these answers, and that she was in spain, if you're her so-called updates page

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22•08•2023

YourUserName just posted

liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc and others

YourUserName some big news approaching

6,349 comments

kellypiquet i can’t wait, my beautiful girl

→ YourUserName thank you for being my #1 support

→ kellypiquet thank you for letting me help plan

→ User1 what does this mean?

→ User2 miss piquet stop being so cryptic on socials

maxverstappen1 i’m very excited

→ YourUserName did kelly force you to write that because i could feel the excitement oozing through the screen

→ maxverstappen1 i wanted to say something worse

→ YourUserName i hope she leaves you

→ kellypiquet behave, you two!

→ User3 i live for max and y/n terrorising each other, even without danny ric being around to encourage it

bloomsburypublishing we look forward to the end result

User4 i’m sorry but is this a soft launch?

User5 who is that in the last slide, miss y/n?

→ User6 the inspiration behind a new romance we hope

User7 don’t be shy. tag him

User8 soft launches have recently become my least favourite thing

charles_leclerc are you perhaps writing my next plane read

→ YourUserName depends how long the flight is

→ User9 confirmation of a new book ya’ll!! everyone say thank you charles

User10 i like to be edged by her books, not by her hiding her man

User11 don't try and distract us with news of a new book, we wanna know who the feet belong to!

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01•09•2023

danielricciardo just posted

liked by maxverstapen1, yukitsunoda0511 and others

danielricciardo ciao a tutti. lovely sightseeing in beautiful Italy

6,445 comments

User12 you’re telling me that i’m currently in the same country as THE daniel ricciardo?

kellypiquet i’m still trying to recover from that hike

→ User13 kelly and max went on a double date with daniel and the new girl?!

→ User14 omg please be y/n. i can’t imagine kelly agreeing to it otherwise

User15 i know he's trying to distract us with his beauty but we see the last slide, daniel. we see it

pierregasly so you’re telling me that you were in milan and didn’t bother to come and see me? that’s it. i'm ending our friendship

→ danielricciardo i’m sorry, mate. i was doing more important things

→ pierregasly clearly ;)

User16 someone check on y/n, please

→ User17 babe is clearly having the time of her life in italy (yes, i'm delusional)

User18 does nobody find it odd that he’s posting a soft launch not long after y/n posted a soft launch

→ User19 i know! it’s only been three weeks since hers and he’s posting one

→ User20 i can’t decide whether they’re soft launching each other or he’s trying to make her jealous by flaunting a new relationship as well

→ User21 it HAS to be each other or i will die

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15•10•2023

lando.jpg just posted

liked by YourUserName, danielricciardo and others

lando.jpg so i attended this event… and no, it’s not mine before you all freak out

8,223 comments

charles_leclerc it was a beautiful day ❤️

alexandrasaintmleux i’m so thankful to have been a part of such wonderful memories

kellypiquet the most beautiful bride i have ever seen

maxverstappen1 this was a nicer caption than i expected from you

→ danielricciardo agreed

→ landonorris i take offence to that

User1 guys do we think kelly and max got married? they’ve both comments on this?

→ User2 yes but so did charles and alex so…

→ User3 plus, i know kelly is stunning but do we really think she would call herself the most beautiful bride in 3rd person?

georgerussell63 i’m surprised you remember much after the state you were in

→ landonorris excuse you but most of that was just pure happiness

hulkhulkenberg an amazing day

estebanocon so happy to have been a part of this

alex_albon how’s the hangover, mate

→ landonorris i didn’t drink that much!

→ georgerussell63 tell that to the bouquet that you puked on

→ landonorris i caught it so it was mine anyway

carlossainz55 beautiful photos. she’ll love those

→ User4 who’s she?!

lewishamilton🤍🩵

fernandoalo_official congratulations to the happy couple

User5 the entire grid are commenting on this post, clearly having been in attendance. who IS IT?

pierregasly c’était une belle mariée

liked by YourUserName

User6 guys, y/n’s name on socials just changed from y/l/n to ricciardo

liked by danielricciardo

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03•04•2024

YourUserName just posted with danielricciardo

liked by kellypiquet, maxverstappen1 and others

YourUserName my husband helped with this project. baby ric coming aug 2024

9,550 comments

kellypiquet you will be the most beautiful mother. i’m so honoured to be part of this with you 💕

→ YourUserName stop you’re going to make me cry. you’ll be the most perfect godmother

→ kellypiquet i still think you should've married me instead

maxverstappen1 i call godfather

→ landonorris no you don’t get to call godfather! you already got to be a groomsman

→ maxverstappen1 yeah because who helped get them back together

→ YourUserName kelly

→ danielricciardo me

→ YourUserName no, babe

danielricciardo and before you all ask, no I haven’t stopped crying since she told me

→ kellypiquet me too, dan, me too

maxverstappen1 on a serious note, i am very happy for the two of you. y/n will be a wonderful mother, and daniel, he’ll be there also

charles_leclerc i am so excited. alex keeps telling me to stop buying baby things for you guys but i just don’t listen

→ YourUserName well at least you can safely say that uncle charl bought little mcqueen’s love

→ User7 uncle charl!!!!

lewishamilton congratulations, you two. y/n looks amazing

fernandoalo_official how lovely 💚

User8 omg it WAS their wedding lando attended!!!!!

hulkhulkenberg baby ricciardo!!

pierregasly congratulations. i can’t wait to be uncle GASSLYYYYYY

alex_albon welcome baby ricciardo

→ lilymhe it’s not an alien, alex. you don’t have to greet it so formally

redbullracing we’re all so excited for the upcoming grid baby. working on a racer stroller right this minute

→ mclaren you stole our gift idea!

→ redbullracing you stole our driver!

carlossainz55 congratulations y/n and daniel 😄

mercedesamgf1 what wonderful news 🍼

landonorris i’m just so glad i can go back to calling you mum and dad without daniel wanting to drive his car into the barrier

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Please don’t hate me for this! I did say from the beginning that Part 2s would be redemption.

I’ve had this planned and written since before Part 1 was published so when half of you then asked for her to get with another driver/move on, I was like noooooo I’ve already planned their baby 😂

As always. Requests welcome. If you have requested, I promise I’m not ignoring it, it’s been added to my queue

Baby Fever Angst Series

Tag list

@bibissparkles @barcelonaloverf1life @rlalliehayes @dullypully @softtina @callsignwidow @lav3nder-haze @minkyungseokie @luvrrish @fall-bambi @evans-dejong @sadsierra2 @justdreamersdream @spookystitchery @dark-night-sky-99 @majusialikesfastcars @luckyladycreator2 @bborra @mrosales16 @reguluscrystals @tvdtw4ever @alwaysclassyeagle @gigicisneros @spanishcorndogs @thecubanator2 @goldenharrysworld @awritingtree @jxnellat @sbrn0905 @hc-dutch @buckybarnessweetheart @ironmaiden1313 @dreamercrowd @yourbane @reguluscrystals @peachiicherries @g-l-o-b-e-w-h-o-r-e @weekendlusting @leclercsluvs @hannannannannannah @lifeless-firefly @sinofwriting @exotic-iris13 @imperfect-paragon @dan3avocado @barcelonaloverf1life @avillagesperson @hard4ndsoft @justzluv @laneyspaulding19 @danielshoe @chocolatefanunknown @redcrescentmoons

Sorry if I missed anyone!

2K notes · View notes

bvidzsoo · 2 months ago

Text

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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gothcsz · 4 days ago

Text

El Cumpleañero | Javier Peña x F!Reader | ~8.3k wc | Explicit. Minors DNI.

Summary: It's Javier's birthday, so you show up to his party and things get fun.

Tags: friends with benefits dynamic, jealous!javi (can't help myself), flirting, dancing, javi is a little ooc here but idgaf i need him (in my head he's a bit younger in this au), some untranslated spanish, smut, unprotected p in v, oral (f receiving), back shots for days, a lil bit of exhibitionism on javi's part, creampie, one use of a degrading term (slut), some dirty talk, pussy pronouns, facial, no use of y/n, reader is afab and able-bodied, little to no physical descriptions of reader, any typos/grammar mistakes are of my own doing and i apologize in advance, if i missed any other tags pls let me know okay, thanks!

A/N: hiiii everyone! this is my humble submission to @yxtkiwiyxt's never have i ever challenge with my prompt being never have i ever woken someone else because i was too loud during sex 🙈 kiwi bb tysm for hosting such a lovely writing challenge for us, i hope you enjoy this smutty fic! oh, and i am dedicating this one to @letsmeetintheafterglow, amorcito, you left such me a juicy request in my inbox for javi that i just had to write! so, i merged it with the challenge prompt 🖤 hope you dream of him tambien ☁️ also, i couldn't help but project my fantasy of wanting to dance to corrido/banda music with javier. i feel like he's actually a pretty good dancer! swinging ya around to the beat of the song with his hand at your lower back and a modelo in the other. ugh. the song la niña fresa basically inspired the nickname javi calls reader 🍓 and just sets the vibes, i think. as always, let me know that you think and thank you for reading 🖤

The backyard is buzzing with the chatter and laughter of what feels like half the town, the smoky scent of barbecue wafting through the air and the twang of a corrido blasting from oversized speakers, making the ground shake.

You walk through the fenced yard, the southern breeze grazing your skin as familiar faces nod or wave in passing. Your eyes scan the crowd, skimming past clusters of people dancing and conversing, all of them gathered to celebrate someone who swore he didn’t want a fuss.

Of course his family didn’t listen. They turned his “keep it small” request into a blowout, like they always do, inviting anyone and everyone. Not that he could stay mad—he never really does.

When you spot the man of the hour, the corner of your lips lift instinctively and your feet seem to move on their own accord, pulling you toward him.

He’s by the bonfire, the glow of the flames painting his chiseled features in shades of gold and shadow. He stands with his hip jutting out, a cigarette balanced between his fingers, sharing it lazily with two girls you barely recognize.

They hang on to his every little move, trying to soak up whatever attention he might spare. It’s a scene you’ve witnessed too many times, and you really can’t blame them.

You’ve been in their shoes (still are, truth be told), waiting for even a flicker of his focus to land on you, and you know all too well where that desperation led.

To his bed, on his tongue, his cock—you shiver at the memory, your nipples pulling taut.

He’s the kind of man who doesn’t have to try to make hearts ache; it’s just who he is.

A walking daydream wrapped in leather and indifference, with that devil-may-care grin that promises trouble and delivers every time.

You roll your eyes and huff sassily, detouring toward one of the coolers instead. You grab a drink, making polite small talk with a couple of acquaintances, though you can’t keep your gaze from wandering back to him.

He’s already looking at you.

It stops you mid-sentence the way his brown eyes are fixed on you, heavy with intention.

The cigarette is at his lips, the faint glow of its cherry pulses when he sucks in then lets out a ribbon of smoke.

He makes it look so damn hot, it’s almost enough to persuade you into picking up the bad habit.

The curly haired beauty next to him is chattering a mile a minute, but it’s clear he isn’t listening.

His focus remains locked on you, sweeping slowly—mischievously—down the length of your body. You can feel it, as sure as a touch, lingering at the deep neckline of your sweater then on the way your jeans hug your curves. It’s shameless, but that’s him, isn’t it?

Your smile tilts into a puckish smirk. Lifting your hand, you wiggle your fingers in a small wave.

It’s like striking a match. His gaze narrows slightly as if he’s trying to decide his next move.

He hands off the cigarette with a casual flick of his wrist and shifts his focus back to the girl beside him. She’s still rambling, her words tumbling over each other in an eager attempt to hold his attention.

He doesn’t bother pretending to care. Instead, he lets out an indulgent chuckle, shaking his head like whatever nonsense just came out of her mouth is equal parts adorable and absurd.

You almost feel bad for her. It’s hard not to fall for that sleazy charm—especially when it’s attached to a man that’s so fucking handsome.

When she swivels to chat with her friend, his eyes immediately find yours again. A cocky expression paints his countenance, one that practically asks: What the hell are you doing all the way over there?

You entertain the idea of making him wait, savoring the power in holding his attention hostage for just a moment longer. But who are you kidding? The magnetic pull he has over you is impossible to resist. It always is.

The small box tucked snugly in the back pocket of your jeans presses against you as you weave through the crowd, sidestepping a few overly tipsy guests and slipping past the fold-out tables scattered across the lawn.

“Hey,” you say, sliding yourself effortlessly between the two girls, not caring about interrupting their conversation. Immediately, their sharp side-eyes practically stab you with twin daggers of irritation.

You don’t flinch. You’re not here for them, anyway.

You only care about the pair of deep brown eyes that make you feel like you’re the only person in the world when he looks at you. “Happy Birthday, Javier.”

A flicker of what looks like smugness and amusement crosses his face as he licks his lips, taking another measured drag.

He’s dressed in a variant of his signature look—a white button-up with a few buttons let loose to show off his neck and the top of his chest, despite the brisk autumn air, and a worn brown leather jacket accentuating his broad shoulders.

However, it’s the ridiculous tiara perched atop his head that catches your eye, and the sight makes you frown ever so slightly when you notice the matching glittery ones on his groupies, like it’s some inside joke you’re not a part of.

For some inexplicable reason—it rubs you the wrong way. You can’t believe you’re slightly jealous of it. How stupid.

“Thank you, fresita.”

Ugh, that infuriating nickname. You’d been charmed by it at first, assuming it was something sweet and impish. It wasn’t until Chucho let it slip that it’s also used to describe a woman that’s spoiled and picky that you realized it wasn’t just affectionate; it was also dig at your finer tastes.

And so what if you are a little high maintenance?

You don’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction, even though he loves coaxing it out of you. Instead, you tilt your head slightly, letting a soft undercurrent of flirtation lace your voice as you ask, “Mind if I pull you aside? I’d like to give you your gift.”

His interest is evident in the way his brow raises and the girls bristle slightly, their expressions shifting to thinly veiled jealousy once they realize he’s no longer focused on them. You captured him the moment he saw you amidst the crowd.

“We were just finishin’ up,” Javi says casually, dropping the cigarette and crushing it beneath his boot. He flicks a glance at the two disappointed faces, his smirk widening. “Con permiso, chicas. Thanks for the smoke.”

As he steps away from them, you feel a little triumphant thrill surge in your chest. They look deflated, their pouty expressions almost comical as they watch him leave with you, muttering goodbyes under their breaths.

The curly haired woman stares you down, and you try not to let the smug victory of whisking him away be too obvious… though you can’t help but smile condescendingly before fully turning away.

“Some fan club you’ve got,” you tease once the two of you are finally alone, near the entrance of the sunroom that’s a part of the house.

He smirks, leaning against the siding and tilting his head, once more eyeing you down like you’re the finest thing he’s ever seen. “You jealous?”

You scoff, shaking your head in mock disbelief. “Absolutely not.” It’s a little white lie, since you had felt a twinge of that pesky envy, but you don’t want him to know that. He’d either give you shit for it, or on the more extreme end, rethink this arrangement he currently has with you.

And you’d rather not lose it. Not right now, at least. You’re having too much fun letting Javier fuck your brains out on a consistent basis.

Slowly, you close the space between you, your fingers darting up to flick the tacky tiara perched on his head. “Cute.”

Before you can step back, his hands are on you—big and warm as they grip your waist and pull you flush against his chest.

The force of it has you sighing out in satisfaction. There’s something wholly fucking addictive about the way he handles you.

His hands know exactly where to place themselves, his fingers applying the perfect amount of pressure to set the butterflies in your stomach into a frenzy.

“No need to be, baby. You know you’re my favorite.” If your friends knew you were hooking up with the town slut, they’d definitely stage an intervention before you could finish your next sentence. Laying out all the reasons why letting Javier Peña into your bed was a one-way ticket to heartbreak city.

They’d call it desperation. They’d call it lowering your standards.

But what they don’t know is that standards start to feel awfully overrated when Javier has you pinned to a mattress, whispering filthy promises in your ear as his hands map every inch of your body. They don’t know what it’s like to have his full attention—his lips trailing worshipful kisses down your skin, his gravelly voice murmuring sweet nothings in Spanish that you don’t fully understand from how he slurs them together but feel all the same.

Being around him is electric, intoxicating, a high you’re not quite ready to give up.

So no, your friends don’t know. And as long as you can keep this thing between you and Javier your little secret, they never will.

“You gonna let me unwrap my gift or what?” His hand slides lower to cup your right cheek with shameless familiarity, giving it a frisky spank that makes you giggle.

This man and his obsession with your ass—it’s borderline ridiculous, and yet, you’re absolutely here for it.

“Later, maybe,” you reply with faux coyness, your finger dragging along his mustache then over to his pouty lips. He purses them, placing a kiss to the tip of your finger, “if you’re not too busy.”

His hold on your backside tightens, voice morphing into something more sultry, raspier, which is your absolute weakness. It makes your thighs rub together. “You know I always make time for you.”

You laugh softly at that. More often than not, you’re the one initiating while he only reaches out when it suits him. It’s not ideal at times, but you don’t get hung up on it.

You’re not about to ruin this by asking more of someone who doesn’t have it in him.

You reach back and pull the small box from your pocket. “Here’s your real gift,” you say, holding it out to him. Your voice softens, but there’s still a playful inflection. “Hope you like it.”

Curiosity fills those dark eyes as he takes the box, eyeing the tacky birthday wrapping paper with a soft smile. The sight of that grin on his face has your eyes morphing into hearts.

“You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“I know,” you reply with a shrug. “But I saw it at the thrift store and just knew it had to go to you.”

You angle yourself to press a light kiss to the tip of his chin, your lips brushing against the stubble before you nip at it gently with your teeth. “Open it.”

His nimble fingers pull apart the crinkled folds of the wrapping paper to reveal the small box inside. When he opens it, you see his immediate delight, and your heart does a traitorous little flip.

The golden chain bracelet glints under the string lights strung along the roof’s edge, somehow making it look nicer out here than how it had been displayed at the store.

“Damn, this is nice,” he says, genuinely appreciative. The praise sends a faint thrill up your spine, your bottom lip caught between your teeth as you watch him lift the bracelet out of the box to inspect it.

You’ve imagined how good the gold would look while his wrist is flexing as he grips your thighs, holding you open for him. Or when he’s feeling you up, rough and greedy, fingers digging into your soft hips as he takes your pussy how he wants.

“Put it on,” he holds his wrist and the bracelet out toward you. His tone carries that easy confidence, like he already knows you’ll obey without question.

Which you do, obviously. You carefully clasp it around his wrist, your fingers brushing his skin as you secure it, and that little brush feels like you’ve just snorted a line of adrenaline with how amped up your body gets.

“Looks good on you,” you admire your handiwork, though the truth is; he’d make anything look good. Even a paper crown. Or, you know, a tacky tiara.

“Gracias, fresita,” he replies smoothly, that familiar nickname rolling off his tongue.

“Are you ever going to stop calling me that?”

“Nah.”

Before you can come up with a witty retort, he pulls you against him again, One hand at your lower back, the other tucked into the back pocket of your jeans. His lips capture yours in a kiss that’s eager and completely unapologetic.

“Easy there, birthday boy—”

“Can’t help it,” he cuts you off, his voice rough against your lips. “Been waiting for you to show up all night.”

You can’t help but chase after that tasty mouth of his, your tongue licking against his, teeth biting into his lower lip and the slight tickle of his mustache makes you shiver. Then his hips grind against your thigh, his erection prominent, which in turn has heat flaring all over your body.

“Let’s go inside,” he breaks away, tugging you toward the small steps leading into the sunroom.

You weren’t expecting to fuck him so early on in the night but you’re not about to complain about it. Every fiber of your body yearns for this man—but specifically your cunt. She’s obsessed.

The room looks like it’s in the middle of a renovation—a man cave in progress.

One wall boasts an unfinished bar, complete with half-empty bottles and shot glasses scattered across the surface. A brand-new pool table sits in the center of the room, its felt pristine, untouched by drunken games or spilled drinks.

At the far end, a set of leather couches and a recliner face the large television set and entertainment center.

The double doors to the house are shut tight, leaving the room dim and private, save for the warmness of the string lights spilling in through the windows.

You’re caught up taking it all in when Javier sneaks up behind you, pressing hot, greedy kisses against your neck as his hands roam your body.

There’s nothing tentative about his touch—he cups your tits with both hands, squeezing them over your sweater as a deep groan rumbles in his throat. His need for you is palpable, a force that makes your knees weak even as he maneuvers you toward the pool table.

“Here, Javi?” you pant when he sucks at your weak spot under your jaw. “Let’s just go up to your room—”

“No,” he growls, spinning you around to face him, his dark eyes alight with lust. “Want you right here on this table.”

Before you can argue, his lips are on yours again. You let yourself melt into it, your hands reaching up to pluck the ridiculous tiara off his head and tossing it aside with a flick of your wrist.

His hair is soft under your fingers as you card through it, tugging lightly just to feel the way his body reacts, the way his kisses deepen in response.

When his tongue slides into your mouth, you surprise even yourself by wrapping your lips around it, sucking gently. You’re greedy and he loves it.

Javier’s grunt prompts your thighs to clench instinctively around him. His jacket hits the floor as he shrugs it off, lips trailing down your neck. You kick off your boots, his hands lifting you with ease to place you on the sturdy pool table.

Your sweater is gone before you know it. He’s in the middle of working on the button of your jeans, his fingers deft and impatient, when your eyes land on something that makes you freeze.

Or better yet, someone. There’s a figure slumped in one of the recliners at the far end of the room.

Your breath hitches, your body tensing. “Javi, stop.” Your words falter into a moan as his lips find your collarbone, sucking on your skin.

“What’s wrong?” he murmurs, barely pausing as he tugs your pants down your hips. Despite yourself, you lift slightly to help him, even as you frantically nudge your head toward the recliner.

“There’s someone here,” you whisper.

He stops, his head snapping up to follow your gaze. His expression shifts into a frustrated scowl when he sees the figure sprawled in the chair. “Goddamnit,” he mutters, reluctantly pulling away from you and heading over to investigate.

You watch as he approaches, his boots heavy on the hardwood. It’s his cousin Danny, completely passed out, his head lolling to the side and his mouth hanging open. Javier whistles sharply, snapping his fingers in front of his face. Nothing. He gives his shoulder a firm nudge once, twice—still nothing.

“Out cold,” Javier says, his tone both annoyed and amused as he turns back to you. “Took down almost a whole bottle of tequila earlier. He’s not gonna bother us.”

You hesitate, your eyes darting to the unconscious form. The idea of hooking up with someone uninvited in the room feels... complicated… exhilarating, maybe? You’ve never done it before.

But your reluctance evaporates the moment Javier closes the distance between you again, his hands sliding your jeans clean off, leaving you in nothing but your mismatched bra and panties.

He drinks you in, and the rest of the party—including the slumped figure in the corner—melts away under the weight of his attention.

No words are needed, not when he roughly tugs the cups of your bra down, letting your breasts spill free, nor when he dips his head, his stubble grazing your skin as his warm mouth captures one of your nipples.

Your breath catches, back arching your breasts into his warm, wet mouth. His tongue lazily circles and flicks over the hardened bud. Then he sucks harder, pulling a drawn-out moan from you before switching to the other side.

You bite your lip, determined to stifle the sighs of pleasure threatening to break. His knocked out cousin in the corner keeps you cautious, even as your body aches to let go.

Javier notices. Always does. He pulls away with a pop, a thin string of saliva connecting his pouty lips to your nipple. “Nu-uh,” he chides. “Don’t hold back.”

“I’m not trying to wake him up,” you counter, though your voice wavers from how good his mouth felt.

“You won’t,” he replies, almost dismissively, giving you a peck on the lips before he drops to his knees before you. He starts at your calves, leaving slow, deliberate kisses that send sparks dancing along your skin.

The faint scrape of his facial hair adds to the wonderful torment as his mouth works its way up, switching from leg to leg.

When he reaches the inside of your right knee, he kisses it almost sweetly, before dragging his tongue slowly in a hot stripe up to your inner thigh. You can’t stop the small shiver that ripples through you, your hands gripping the edge of the pool table for balance.

Javier finally reaches your pussy and you shudder as he presses an open-mouthed kiss to your clothed clit. The heat of his breath and the firm pressure of his lips through the cotton of your panties makes your back arch.

He hooks a finger into the fabric and pulls it to the side, diving in immediately. His tongue parts your folds, curling and slithering against your pearly clit before moving lower.

“Fuck,” you sigh, your hips bucking involuntarily, pressing yourself harder against his mouth.

He groans, enjoying how reactive you are, his fingers digging into the soft meat of your thighs while he holds you firmly in place. His mouth works with a singular focus, his tongue swirling and dipping into your entrance, then sliding back up to flick over your clit.

The feeling of his stupid mustache makes it that much better, scratching at your cunt lusciously.

You can’t help it now—a soft, keening moan slips out of you, echoing faintly in the dimly lit room. Your head lolls around on your shoulders as pleasure coils at the pit of your stomach, the tension winding tighter with each stroke of his tongue.

“That’s it,” he practically purrs. “Let me hear you.”

His lips seal around your clit, sucking gently, and you swear it feels like you’ve been possessed—holding back is impossible. Another moan escapes you, louder this time, your thighs shaking in his grip as he devours you.

Javi pushes you over the edge so effortlessly that a cry of his name spits out of your throat before you can stop it, cutting through the room.

You're grateful this area of the house is directed away from the backyard, where the party celebrating him outside continues on, oblivious of his absence as he indulges in you.

Your orgasm settles like a heavy current, fingers nearly going numb from holding on to the pool table for dear life.

You’re still disoriented and flustered when Javier stands, looming over you, cupping the back of your head and bringing you in to passionately make out.

His mouth is coated in your tangy essence, making you taste yourself as he slips his tongue down your throat.

You whimper, clawing at his chest for more and he pulls away to turn you around, manhandling you onto your stomach on the table.

His hands are firm yet impatient as he grips one of your legs by the back of your knee and hooks it over the edge of the wooden border.

Javi stares down at your sex, partially exposed and glistening for him. Your panties are askew, one swollen pussy lip peeking out while a dark, damp patch spreads over the cotton where his tongue had devoured you moments ago.

“Fuck.” The lewd sight has him hastily undoing his belt and popping the button on his jeans, his dick hard and ready to bury himself inside your sweet cunt.

Propping yourself up on your palms, you glance back at him over your shoulder, a teasing, blissed out smile playing on your lips despite the burning heat between your thighs. “I figured you’d want to savor me. Wait for later…” you coo, rolling your hips and causing your ass to jiggle, feeling giddy at how his eyes zero in on the motion.

“I savor you all the time, baby. Even during these nasty, quick fucks.” Him saying that has you over the fucking moon. “You can’t expect me to wait knowin’ this pussy needs me to fuck her real good.”

The hand adorned with your golden bracelet grabs your supple ass, kneading the flesh before landing a stinging spank that makes you jolt and let out a cry. The sharp sound carries, making your eyes flick nervously toward the recliner where his cousin still lies, unaware of the debauchery happening mere feet away.

Javier seems completely unbothered, casually toying with your panties as though you have all the time in the world. He hooks his finger into the soaked fabric, dragging it back and forth against your sticky folds, smearing your slick across your pussy lips.

Your hips move on their own, chasing the friction, and you bite your lip hard, trapping the needy moan building in your throat.

“Can I come over later?”

His question is so nonchalant it nearly makes you laugh, but the way he teases you has you too far gone to do so. You grind back against his touch, desperate for more, your lips parting in a breathy moan.

“Yes.” The thought of him showing up at your doorstep at three in the morning, bourbon on his lips, just for you to sink to your knees and take him down your throat makes your pussy clench around nothing, crying out for his cock as more of your arousal leaks against your panties. “Whenever.”

He hums in satisfaction, stepping closer and reaching for your jaw, tilting your head to the side roughly and meeting you for a kiss. The fabric of his shirt grazes your bare skin and he tugs your panties to the side again while his mouth continues to hold yours captive.

His cock nudges against your waiting entrance, teasing, the flushed head dragging over the fleshy cleft of your clit in languid taps.

When he finally pushes in, there’s no preamble—just the yummy stretch of him filling you to the fucking brim, shoving a strangled whine out of your mouth as he sets a brutal pace immediately, not giving you even a moment to adjust.

Your palms slip against the velvet of the pool table as you struggle to hold yourself up, but it’s no use. The force of his thrusts sends you collapsing forward onto your chest, scattering the neatly racked pool balls across the table.

They clatter and roll in all directions, but Javier doesn’t slow for a second. His grip on your waist tightens, forcing you to fuck yourself back on his dick.

“Shit,” he growls hoarsely, already breathless as he watches your ass bounce with every stroke. “You’re makin’ a loud fuckin’ mess,” he hisses, though there’s no real malice there—just straight horniness.

In one smooth motion, he grabs both your wrists with one large hand, pinning them to your lower back. He then angles your pelvis so that your clit is grinding against the smooth wooden border of the pool table while your tender nipples rub against the green felt.

The effects of that are immediate, your body feeling like it’s burning from the inside out. “Mmm, fuck yeah, keep doing that,” you moan desperately.

The raunchy sound of your ass clapping against his thighs fills the room, a filthy rhythm accompanied by the feeling of his heavy balls brushing against your cunt.

The noise feels impossibly loud, your whimpers and his grunts reverberating off the walls. Surely, his cousin will wake up—surely, someone will walk in on the shameless display Javier is putting on with your body.

Or maybe not, since Javier keeps fucking you all hot and wanton, especially when he hits your sweet spot and your ribbed, gushy walls hug around his dick like a vice.

Your forehead presses against the table as you chant his name, your vision swimming.

You try to glance toward the recliner where his cousin is passed out, but your eyes can’t focus. Everything’s a blur—two of everything, indistinct shapes swimming in the haze of your arousal.

The only thing you can truly focus on is Javier: the way his cock breaches your most intimate spaces, the heat of his body against yours, the sharp bite of his belt against the backs of your thighs.

You’re soaking him, ruining the hem of his half-buttoned shirt. But you can’t bring yourself to care. Not when he’s splitting you open so perfectly, his tight grip on your wrists keeping you pinned and utterly open for him to take.

Your sore clit continues to rub against the smooth wood of the table, now sticky from how shamelessly you’ve been humping against it while chasing your pleasure.

Between the stimulation on your clit, the rough scrape of the felt against your sensitive nipples, and the relentless pounding of his shaft brushing your g-spot—it’s all too much.

Your body trembles, a loud cry ripping from your throat as your orgasm slams into you.

"Javi!" you spasm in his hold, nails digging into your palms as your wrists remain trapped beneath his firm grip. shoulders burning from his rough hold.

Your pussy clamps hard around him, wet and creamy as you come, soaking his cock and leaving no doubt about how thoroughly he fucked you.

Javier curses through gritted teeth, switching between Spanish and English as he ruts into you, his rhythm stuttering. “Fuck, fresita, you’re squeezin’ me so fuckin’ tight—just like that.”

He doesn’t falter, fucking you even as your orgasm settles over you like a heavy current.

He hauls you upright, pulling your back flush against his chest, his grip on your wrists unrelenting as he traps them between your bodies.

Both of his arms wrap tightly around your trembling frame, one hand sliding up to grab your tit, kneading it roughly while the other sprawls against your stomach and waist to hold you steady as he fucks up into you.

His mouth is at your ear now, his breath ragged. “Gonna bust inside this pretty pussy baby and you’re gonna let me, aren’t you?”

You nod weakly, biting down on your lip as your eyes flutter shut. “So fuckin’ willing to take my cum like a real slut,” the degrading name makes your clit twitch because he’s right—you are a real slut. Only for him. Always hungry and ready to please, to do anything to satisfy him and he knows it.

“You’re so goddamn perfect—fuck.” His hips jerk a few times before he groans deeply, his cock pulsing as he finishes deep inside you, his hold on your body tightening to the point where you wince but it hurts so good.

“What the fuck?”

The sharp voice cuts through the haze, yanking you back to reality. Your eyes snap open, and panic floods your system as you instinctively try to shield your almost-naked body.

Across the room, Danny sits up in the recliner, his hair a mess and his bleary eyes squinting in confusion. He looks like he’s been rudely yanked out of a drunken slumber, and unfortunately, it’s your fault.

Javier, of course, remains maddeningly calm. “Relax,” his voice still thick with that post-climax rasp as he mumbles in your ear.

Meanwhile, your body is burning—part embarrassment, part leftover heat from the sinful things Javier just did to you on this pool table.

You try to wriggle out of his grip, but his arms are like iron bands, keeping you firmly in place.

Danny rubs at his eyes, blinking hard as if trying to process what’s in front of him. His head tilts slightly, and for one horrifying second, you think he’s piecing it all together. But instead, he suddenly leans over the side of the recliner and starts retching, the sound loud and wet as he empties his stomach onto the carpet.

The sharp, acidic stench of vomit hits the air, mixing unpleasantly with the heady scent of sweat and sex. It’s enough to finally get Javier to loosen his hold.

He pulls out of you with a grunt, leaving you aching and exposed, and you both watch as his release starts to spill out of you, trickling over your swollen folds and dripping onto the table with obscene little plops.

But there’s no time to dwell on the mess. You scramble to grab your clothes, your movements frantic and clumsy as you yank your jeans up your legs and shove your arms into your sweater.

Javier’s doing the same, though far less hurried, like he’s still amused by the whole situation.

When you finally look up at him, his dark eyes are sparkling with mischief, and he throws you a roguish grin that almost makes you laugh despite yourself.

Danny, meanwhile, is still groaning and gagging, his face pale as a sheet. You feel a tiny pang of guilt, but before you can even think about offering help, Javier grabs your hand and tugs you toward the door.

“Aren’t you going to help him?” you whisper, trying to keep your voice low.

“Fuck no,” Javier replies without missing a beat. “Not my fault he couldn’t handle his liquor.”

He presses a kiss to the back of your hand, his lips warm and soft against your skin, and you can’t help but follow him.

You glance back over your shoulder as you’re being pulled toward the backyard, unable to stop yourself from throwing out a half-hearted, “Sorry!”

He doesn’t respond—he’s too busy dry heaving—but you and Javier are already sneaking out, stifling your laughter as the sounds of the party grow louder around you.

The music thrums through the air, its infectious rhythm pulling you in as your dance partner tightens his grip on your waist. His hands are firm, guiding you with confidence, but the musky cologne mixed with the sour tang of sweat is enough to make your nose crinkle if you focus too hard on it.

Still, you’re here out of spite, letting the sway of your hips speak louder than words as your body molds to his. The banda song carries you both across the makeshift dance floor, your movements fluid and natural as though the music itself has taken over.

Javier is just a few paces away, entangled with the curly-haired girl from earlier. His hands rest on her lower back, his body moving with ease.

There’s a playful challenge in both of your eyes when your gazes finally meet, knowing how this little game of yours will end.

Neither of you looks away, both determined to outdo the other, even in this small, ridiculous way.

Your dance partner spins you abruptly, breaking the moment. The move is smooth, you’ll give him that, and you find yourself face-to-face with him once again.

He’s not bad looking, honestly—sharp jawline, nice green eyes—but the cologne is killing the vibe, and his wandering hands are starting to push it.

Thankfully, the song winds to a close just as his fingers inch a little too far down your back. The music shifts, a different tune kicking in, and you step back, offering a polite smile as he thanks you for the dance.

“Got a number I can save?” he asks, hopeful and slightly cocky.

You grin, a little too sweetly, and rattle off your number without hesitation. You’ve got no intention of responding if he uses it, but you can’t resist the temptation to stir the pot. As he finally walks away, you feel it—a scorching stare burning into your back.

You don’t even have to look to know who it’s coming from.

“Baila conmigo.”

The familiar rasp of Javier’s voice cuts through the noise as he steps into your space. He takes a swig of his beer, his leather jacket gone, leaving him in just the white button-up that hugs his chest a little too well.

You cock a brow, crossing your arms. “What happened to your dance partner?”

“Sent her away,” he replies easily, his smirk infuriatingly smug. “Poor girl couldn’t catch the rhythm.”

You let out an amused huff, rolling your eyes. Of course, he’d say that. Before you can think better of it, you take his hand, allowing him to lead you toward la pista.

The moment you’re there, he pulls you flush against him, one large hand settling at your lower back while the other still clutches his beer. You fall into the simple two-step with ease, your bodies moving in perfect sync to the music.

His thigh slots between yours, the friction sparking something electric, and you can’t help but press closer, your breaths mingling in the intimate space between you.

“Reminds me of that night at the club,” his lips brush at your ear. It’s a miracle you can still hear him over the loud music. “When you finally let me get between those pretty legs.”

The heat in his words, combined with the faint scent of his cologne and the alcohol on his breath, floods your senses. He smells and feels like everything your last dance partner wasn’t.

Whistles and cheers ripple through the crowd as you and Javi throw yourselves into the rhythm of the song, your bodies moving like two parts of the same melody.

You hadn’t expected him to be such a good dancer the first time you shared a dance—not until that night at the club.

And just like his dancing, the way he fucked you afterward had blown every expectation out of the water.

The song comes to an end, leaving you both flushed and slightly winded, sweat clinging to your skin despite the cool night air. The cheers die down as a new track begins, and Javi’s lips quirk into a lopsided grin.

“C’mon, give me another one,” he urges, his voice still rich and sensual despite the exertion.

You laugh, shaking your head as you step back, hands on your hips. You hadn’t planned to stay this long, and now your body is screaming for mercy. “Raincheck, handsome. I gotta head home.”

Javi’s grin falters slightly, but it doesn’t fade completely as your hand drifts down his chest, fingers savoring the firmness of his body.

His broad shoulders and toned frame are just so enchanting, and you can’t resist indulging one last time before grabbing his beer. You take a long, slow sip, your eyes flicking up to meet his as you drain the bottle and set it aside on one of the plastic fold-out tables.

“Not gonna stick around for the cake?” he asks, that boyish charm in his tone as he steps closer.

You flash him a flirty smile. “Save me a piece.”

He opens his mouth to say something else, but the rowdy chaos of his friends and cousins cuts him off. They swarm him, loud and eager, tugging at his shoulders and shouting for him to take another shot.

He laughs, but his gaze finds yours, his warm brown eyes locking on to you one last time.

“Enjoy, Javi,” you tell him with a wink. “You know where to find me.”

That familiar smirk is at his lips as he’s pulled toward the makeshift bar. You watch him for a moment before turning to make your departure.

You’re cutting across the lawn when you hear a voice behind you.

“Need a ride home?”

It’s the guy you danced with earlier, his cologne still potent even in the open air. His gentlemanliness would’ve been charming if it weren’t for the obvious expectation in his tone.

You decline politely, offering a quick smile before brushing past him and unlocking your car.

What you don’t realize is that Javi sees the entire exchange from afar. He’d caught the tail end of the guy trailing after you, his gaze narrowing as he watched you disappear into the sea of parked cars.

A flicker of irritation tugged at his expression, but he stayed rooted to his spot, letting his friends push another shot into his hand.

Instead of following, he threw himself into his own celebration, his laugh loud and boisterous as if he hadn’t seen a damn thing. But he couldn’t stop thinking about you leaving with that guy, and the glint in his eyes that had been so bright when you were there dulled just slightly.

Still, he let it go, for now.

He knew exactly where to find you, after all.

“Oh my god,” you mewl, your back arching against the cold tile of your kitchen floor. Javier thrusts into you with a raw, animalistic need, his cock driving so deep inside you that it feels like he’s carving himself into your very being.

The absurdity of the situation is a bit funny—you’re still fully clothed, minus your sleeping shorts having been thrown haphazardly across the room, a stark contrast to earlier when you’d been bare and spread for him on that damn pool table.

Just as you predicted, he showed up at your door in the dead of night, his silhouette illuminated by the dim porch light. You’d barely made it to the door before his desperate, insistent knocking threatened to wake the entire block.

It felt like he might break it down if you didn’t open it fast enough. Whoever dropped him off didn’t even wait to see if you’d answer.

No words were exchanged when you finally let him in. His brown eyes, dark and searing, did all the talking.

He’d cupped your face with one rough hand, the other holding a plate with aluminum foil covering it, precariously balancing it in his palm as he kissed you with an appetite that left you breathless.

You let him back you into the kitchen, setting the plate on the counter, his body crowding yours until there was nowhere left to go.

And now, here you are, legs spread wide, the weight of him pressing you down into the tiles, his jacket still on, smelling like beer and bourbon as he ruts himself against you.

“Givin’ your number out, huh?” he growls against your lips, his words dripping with bitterness. His hand snakes up to wrap around your neck, firm but not harsh, forcing your hazy eyes to meet his. You feel the subtle coolness of the bracelet against your skin and that only makes it better. “That’s all it takes, fresita? One fuckin’ dance?”

Each word is punctuated by a sharp, punishing thrust that has you gasping for air.

Your hands scramble at the back of his jacket, trying to find some sort of anchor while his dick fucks into you over and over, your slick cunt clamping helplessly around him.

If your brain wasn’t fogged with pleasure, you’d call him out on his jealousy, tease him for letting something so trivial get under his skin. At least you were better about hiding it.

But god, it’s too fucking hot—seeing him like this, so undone, so unhinged, all because of you.

Javier, the man who always carries himself with that cool, confident swagger, who never seems to let anything faze him, is now losing his composure right here on your kitchen floor.

And all it took was watching some other guy’s attention on you to make him snap. If anyone is picky and spoiled here—it’s him.

“Answer me,” he demands, his grip on your throat tightening just enough to leave you lightheaded, his thrusts never faltering. His free hand grabs at your thigh, spreading you even wider for him, the angle forcing you to experience every inch of him.

“I—it was nothing,” you manage to cry, though your words are almost incoherent as he’s driving into you. “Javi, I—”

“You what?” he interrupts with a curt laugh, his teeth grazing the underside of your jaw before he bites down gently, making you squirm beneath him. “You think I’m gonna let you walk around, lettin’ some asshole think he’s got a chance with you?”

The thought alone seems to fuel him further, his movements growing rougher and you swear you’re on the edge of unraveling.

And as he watches the way your body responds to him—your nails digging into his back, your moans turning into screams—he knows he’s making his point loud and clear.

Javi’s grip around your throat tightens, cutting off your breath just enough to stimulate you. The pressure makes you feel somehow, impossibly, even more turned on.

“He can’t fuck you like I can,” he grinds against you, his coarse and damp pubic hairs bristling against your sensitive clit, the friction of it almost too much. “No one can.” His face hovers so close to yours that you can feel his breath on your lips.

Your mouth falls open on instinct, tiny, wheezy moans spilling out as his nose brushes against yours.

Javier’s dark eyes feel like they’re boring straight into your soul, gleaming with hunger as he watches your every twitch, every little surrender. He leans in and kisses you all demanding and vehement.

His lips claim yours like he’s trying to eat you whole, his tongue slipping inside to taste every gasp you give him.

“Listen to that,” he murmurs mockingly as he pulls back just enough to let his gaze drop between your bodies, watching your pussy swallow his cock. “Just listen to how wet you are, baby. Think he could ever make you sound like this?”

Your cheeks burn with embarrassment—and arousal—as the obscene, sloppy sounds of his length plunging into you fill the air, amplified by his words. The drive of his hips is merciless, each stroke drawing you closer with dizzying precision.

Your nails dig into his forearms, bending your body beneath him as your vision starts to be blotched with white spots.

You can feel it, the winding of your orgasm at your core pulling taut, about to burst. When it finally does, your pussy flutters and squeezes as waves of smoldering intensity crash over you.

“Puta madre,” he snarls, his head falling back from how good it feels to have you come around him.

Pulling out, Javier pins you down with his weight to keep you from squirming away. His cock, flushed, drooling, and shiny with your juices, hovers inches from your face as you lay flat on the floor.

Your swollen lips part instinctively, the scent of your own headiness making your mouth water.

“Tongue out, baby,” he commands, his voice rough but coaxing.

You obey, sticking your tongue out lazily, your half-lidded eyes locked onto his. The sight of you like this—wrecked, pliant, and waiting for him—is enough to undo him completely. His hand pumps his cock, the golden accessory on his wrist jolting with each move.

With a low, rasping groan, he spills over you, thick, hot ropes of cum splattering across your face and tongue.

You moan softly, savoring the warmth, licking your lips and swallowing whatever lands in your mouth. The taste of him leaves your tongue and throat buzzing, and you revel in the messy intimacy of it.

He uses his fingers to wipe the remnants of his release from your cheeks, then pushes them into your mouth without hesitation.

“Suck,” he orders, and you comply, wrapping your lips around his fingers, swirling your tongue over them with eager enthusiasm. You get carried away, your tongue flicking and sucking greedily, and he chuckles darkly.

“Jealousy looks good on you,” you can’t help but tease, your voice carrying amusement as you both come down from the dazed fucking.

Javier sways a little, his inebriation finally catching up to him. He stumbles, but he steadies himself smoothly, like the world itself wouldn’t dare let him fall.

He wipes a hand down his face before meeting your gaze, still kneeling on the floor. “Not a fan of people playin’ with what’s mine,” he says, the statement edged with that possessiveness he tries to pretend isn’t there.

Usually, a line like that would have you rolling your eyes and telling the guy to take his ego down a notch. But with Javier? You don’t mind. At all. Something about the way he says it—like it’s a fact, not an opinion—makes your stomach flip in the worst (or best) way possible.

“Yours?” you challenge, sitting up on your forearms and arching a brow at him. “I thought this was casual.”

“It is,” he says without missing a beat, bringing his fingers up to caress the side of your face, more calm and sure, like he’s completely unaware of how contradictory his behavior is.

You narrow your eyes slightly, refusing to let him off the hook that easily despite melting under his touch. “Casual hookups don’t go into a frenzy after watching the other dance and flirt with someone else.”

He doesn’t even flinch at your words, doesn’t even bother to defend himself. Instead, he smirks—because of course he does—and stretches his arms over his head like the entire conversation is nothing but a minor inconvenience to him.

He straightens up then stands, extending a hand to you, his palm open and inviting, the gold band of the bracelet glinting in the low light.

You let him pull you up and let out a sound of exertion, your muscles still tense from rolling around on the hard floor with him.

“Dance, flirt with whoever you want. When I want you, I’m gonna have you.”

That’s possibly the hottest thing you’ve ever heard. “That so?” You try to sound unimpressed, but your voice betrays you, just the tiniest bit giddy.

“That’s so,” he concedes vaingloriously. “Don’t forget who makes you feel this satisfied.”

As if I could ever. “Cocky bastard,” you mutter, but the words lack any real bite.

He leans in, kissing you gently, then his voice drops into that deep, velvety murmur that makes your pussy tingle. “Yet you keep coming back.”

You don’t respond because, let’s face it, he’s not wrong. Especially not when he pairs those words with an affectionate kiss.

Instead, you finally roll your eyes, the most predictable move in your arsenal, and step around him to grab your discarded sleeping shorts.

Sliding them back on, you make your way to the counter, where the lonely styrofoam plate of half-smashed birthday cake waits for attention. Without a word, you pull it closer, grab a fork, and dig in.

Javier watches you with a grin still plastered across his face, leaning his hip against the counter. “Didn’t even offer the birthday boy the first bite, huh? Real cold.”

You stab a piece exaggeratedly, lifting it to your mouth, and chewing slowly, giving him a look that says cry about it.

But when you see the faint pout pulling at his lips—a deliberate act, no doubt—you sigh, scoop up another forkful, and hold it out. “Fine. Even though technically it’s not your birthday anymore.”

He leans in, not breaking the eye contact, and takes the bite straight from the fork, his lips brushing the tines with an unnecessary amount of flair.

You swear he’s showing off, but you don’t call him out on it, not when he groans softly in appreciation and you can’t help but admire him like this, playful and flirty in your kitchen.

“Feliz cumpleaños, Javi,” you say after a moment, softer now.

He swallows, his smirk shifting into something a little more genuine as he meets your gaze. “Gracias, fresita.”

For a moment, the air between you shifts—gentler, almost intimate. Then he reaches for the fork still in your hand and steals another bite, flashing you a look that drags you right back to reality.

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