#psychiatrist x character

[a-small-safe-place]

His Haven

Homelander x Psychiatrist!Reader Pt. 1?

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

When Homelander first met you, he just came in because Madelyn cooked up some scheme with Edgar to 'prove' that the members of The Seven were sound of mind and could pass a psychiatric evaluation similar to the one used in the army. Of course, you had been paid a lot of money to do the evaluations and even more money to ensure that these heroes passed no matter what they said. You were a respected psychiatrist in your field; that’s why Madelyn wanted you specifically.

Homelander went to his appointment, planning on leaving until you said something that caught his attention. You said, 'I am here for you. I took this job because you all spend your days helping and saving people, but at the end of the day, who helps and saves you? Obviously, I couldn’t physically save you, but I can be a place for you to talk if you need it. Nothing you say will leave this room.' Boy, did that stroke his ego in all the right ways. He decided to stay. Something about you was comforting, and he wanted to talk, so he started small with the obvious stuff. He led the conversation by making off-handed remarks about being better than everyone and having to be perfect for Vought. It was clear you didn’t understand his pain, but you were listening to him. You were actually listening to him and responding.

You weren’t like Madelyn, who seemed to argue with every other thing he said; you didn’t respond with dismissive and uncaring responses like Queen Maeve, and you could actually keep up with the conversation, unlike The Deep.

Homelander surprised you and himself when he began attending regular scheduled sessions. You usually led the discussion by asking various questions. Some questions he would lie about, not feeling totally safe to dive into certain topics, or he would just dodge the question and change the subject. Homelander knew you noticed this because anytime he did either of those things, your body language would change, and you would write something down in your little notebook. That notebook had made Homelander incredibly nervous until he found out you were not in there calling him a useless pussy. You were just simply writing topics you two had discussed and what topics made him uncomfortable.

You seemed to actually care about Homelander’s feelings, even the bad ones. Stan Edgar put Homelander in his place, and Homelander looked down avoiding Edgar’s pointed gaze like a child being scolded by their father. Homelander needed some reassurance, but he would never admit that willingly. Homelander felt weak and stupid for needing someone, but you didn’t seem to mind even when he was ranting and raving, so he went to you. You had been his haven. The one person he could confide in and actually be himself.

He arrived at your office in the morning while you happened to be filling out some paperwork. He knew you didn’t have any appointments today because this had been previously the day Vought scheduled for the evaluations of the heroes. Homelander spent the whole day pestering you. 'What are we doing now?' He asked, not entirely oblivious to your mild frustration. 'Still just filling out paperwork,' you replied. He rolled his eyes. 'God, your life is so boring. Go to work, talk to the crazies, fill out paperwork and go home, and you do that all alone? I forgot how boring normal people can be.'

You laughed before telling him, 'no one is keeping you here.' Homelander’s jaw tightened. This pissed him off. You’re not supposed to say that. You’re supposed to offer to do something more fun. You seemed to notice that 1,000-yard stare he has as he retreats into his own mind. 'Look, I just mean that I have to finish work. I know it’s probably boring you to death just sitting here; you don’t have to stay if you don’t want to,' you told him, which seemed to make him feel a bit better, but he’s not entirely out of his head. 'It’s fine, we can just talk while you work,' he tells you with a feigned smile.

Homelander begins to perk up while you finish your paperwork and finally asks you the million-dollar question, 'What are we doing when we get home?'

'I am going home to cook up some dinner and watch some television,' you told him, trying to hint that you were wanting to be alone. Homelander was undeterred. 'What are we eating? I could use a home-cooked meal. We could watch one of my movies. I’ve been told I’m a great actor.' Homelander needs you to agree and compliment him. He desperately wants you to tell him he does a good job, even if you’re just talking about acting. 'Yeah? Your movies are pretty famous,' you say, accepting your fate that he isn’t leaving you alone tonight.

The night is spent with him at your house. Homelander wastes no time making himself at home and pilfering through your things. He feels comfortable being so ensnared in your scent. He becomes more comfortable as the night carries on. You fix his plate and drink for dinner, and the two of you share a dinner that he perceives as romantic. Your food isn’t as good as the private chefs at Vought, but Homelander loves it because he got to see the love you put into making it just for him.

You two clean up together. It’s really you cleaning, and Homelander helps by talking about which movie of his you should watch tonight. Finally, you try to retire to your room, but he follows. 'I thought we were gonna watch a movie… it doesn’t have to be one of mine,' Homelander tries not to sound too desperate, and he hated to say that last bit.

'I had planned on watching something in my room, but you can come lay with me if you want,' you tell him reluctantly. Homelander is excited but tries to keep that hidden. You two lay down and begin watching one of his movies. By the end, Homelander is 'asleep.' He knows you can’t tell the difference in him and ignores you when you gently shake him trying to wake him. He’s not the biggest fan of sleeping in strange beds, but for you, he can make an exception. Next time, he wants you in his bed though.

[fluorescent-rose]

“You might be hoping to be saved by a ‘knight in shining armor’.”

Literally has been obsessed with a character who wears shining armor and is taking care of someone who he has saved

[ozzgin]

OZZGIN!

May I request an idea/imagine?

It is about yandere! mental asylum patient and psychiatrist! reader, who is very practical and strict regarding her job, takes no BS from others. But, for some reason, she has a soft spot for yandere! mental asylum patient. The reason could either be he had a hard childhood in which he had to do what he had to do, which brutally killed his father, who used to abuse his mother and sister, but when the father tried to sell the sister into prostitution to buy more alcohol, all hell break lose. Psychiatrist! reader thinks what yandere! mental asylum the patient did was OKAY, and she wants to get him out of the asylum. They love each other deeply and would do anything, so far as to kill for one another. If you can, make it as twisted as you can. I live for some dark romance!

Please ignore my request if you are not able to do it. I completely understand. Thank you in advance! <3

Oh my, this request hits somewhat close to home as I have a friend incarcerated for similar reasons. I'm pondering the logistics behind this context you've provided, since murdering someone won't necessarily land you in a psych ward unless there are other symptoms that come with it. And so I've taken the liberty to expand the character's profile if that's alright. (Conveniently enough I still have my psychopathology lecture notes)

I want to add, however, that this story in no way romanticizes mental illness! If anything, one may consider it an opportunity to reflect on the fact that so many people struggling with disorders do not receive the proper care for it, or only do so when it's too late. Furthermore a medical professional should never, ever behave like this and whatever is written here should stay in the realm of fiction!

Yandere! Patient x Psychiatrist! Reader

Featuring a patient that's pushing the boundaries of your work ethic and might even succeed.

Content/warnings: female reader, detailed mentions of mental disorder, violence, obsessive behavior, breach of professional conduct

You roll up your sleeve and check your watch. He should be here soon. Out of habit, you shuffle the papers for a quick case review, even though you already know all the details by heart. You carefully set aside the patient’s MMPI and WHODAS entry assessments, then your first interviews. Your eyes briefly rest upon the resulting report you’ve comprised: Schizophreniform Disorder (Provisional) with good prognostic features; Diagnostic criteria consisting of delusions, disorganized speech (frequent derailment with episodes of incoherence, echolalia) and comorbid catatonia. Responds well to antipsychotic (clozapine 25mg/12 h) with no imminent need for dosage increase. As it currently stands, he will be fit for proper incarceration in less than 6 months. Is it something you agree with? Not quite. You’ve presented your case many times and it has always been met with pitiful shrugs and dismissals.

The door opens and you fix your posture, sweeping the documents back into your drawer. “And? How are you feeling today?” You ask, flashing a professional, cordial smile as the assisting nurse leads the patient to his seat and prepares her leave. “My chest hurts.” The man answers in a low voice, glaring at the nurse. He taps his foot against the plush carpet, seemingly restless. “How bad would you rate it? Chest pain is a somewhat common side effect of your medication.” You retort, following the movements of the woman finally excusing herself and exiting the room. Once you’re alone, the man’s shoulders droop and he visibly relaxes. “It’s not that, you know it. When can I touch you again?” He pleads, despair twisting his features. You tense up at the words. “Behave yourself. It hasn’t been that long.”

It’s not something you’re particularly proud of. In fact, you might even call it one of your great shames in life. You’ve always been a textbook professional, perhaps even too strict according to your coworkers and most patients. Not even in your wildest dreams would you have dared to imagine you’d violate the code of ethics by falling in love with your patient. But something about his situation stirred your sense of justice. Surely one cannot be punished for protecting their loved ones. The only criminal in the equation, at least in your eyes, was that joke of a father and he had it coming. So you found yourself wrestling against a blooming protectiveness and favoritism towards the young man brought here last month.

What would have normally compelled you into action had therefore been silently swept under the rug. Or even worse, you secretly indulged in it. A patient showing signs of affection towards you would instantly be transferred to a different psychiatrist. Yet you couldn’t put away the letters written by this one. Erratic, crumpled notes of “I love you” written countless times, pencil dug so deep it tore into the sheet. Bizarre illustrations that looked almost threatening. His elaborate delusions before medication was introduced, where he’d detail in grand narratives how you were fated for each other and nothing would stop him from having you sooner or later. You do not know what forces possessed you into this addictive plunge, but you’ve come to enjoy his violent, frenzied confessions. So much, that during one of the unsupervised meetings you let yourself pushed into the sofa as his hands tugged at your body in rabid need. It was so out of character that you wondered if it truly happened, though the bite marks and scratches on your neck and chest proved otherwise.

“Are they going to send me to prison?” He changes the subject and stands up, walking towards your desk. “Most likely. What you have is the result of a traumatic event, not a lifelong condition. Sporadic episodes that can be kept under control with antipsychotics aren’t enough of a reason to keep you in the hospital.” You press your legs together nervously and glance at him. “Can’t you just say it’s no longer working?” He suggests, kneeling before you and placing a hand on your thigh. “You know I can’t lie on the report.” You really don’t like it when he manipulates you like this. “Ah, yes, because lying is worse than fucking your patient.” He scoffs, annoyed. “Don’t threaten me like that”, you say as you turn towards him, but you’re stopped by the rough grip of his hand over your cheeks. “I’m not threatening you, I’m threatening everyone else. Listen, (Y/N), I’m not fucking around. I don’t mind pretending to be crazy if I have to. Will the meds still be working if I steal a shaving razor and cut the nurse open?” You try to open your mouth, but his fingers are pressed into your skin, locking your jaw into place. “I’m not going to prison. I’m not. Then I’ll never see you again and that can’t happen. You know that.”

Eventually he releases his hold, allowing you to speak. "I understand. Then there's no choice but to arrange your escape." You sigh, defeated, and he raises his eyebrows. "Won't that get you in trouble?" You chuckle at his statement. "Either way I'll be in trouble. You said it yourself. Might as well quit before I have to stand in front of the ethics board and have my license revoked." You'd prefer to keep the last ounce of pride if possible.

He sits on the floor and you notice his trembling hands. "Nervous?" You ask. "No. Just really happy. I'm not a bad person and you were the only one here to see it. But God, (Y/N), I'd kill anyone if it was for your sake. I can't wait to hold you whenever I want." He gazes at you as a smile widens on his face.

[flowerandblood]

The Taste of Desire (AU)

[ dom!modern • Aemond x friend sister • female ]

[ warnings: sex with soft domination, fingering, smut, angst, sexual tension, remorse, doubts related to sex work ]

[ description: Aemond works as a professional dom, fulfilling the various fantasies of his female clients − however, he guards his privacy and does not enter into any relationships with them, recognizing that he does not want or need it. One of his clients surprises him with her behaviour, making him experience something he has never felt before, with his own actions and emotions slipping out of his control. Sexual tension, doubts related to sex work. ]

This oneshot is an alternative universe for my series The Taste of Shame in which Aemond meets the main character as his client. It shows how their lives would have turned out and what their first time would have been like if Aemond had done it for money. Created to celebrate my anniversary on 22 March.

Series & Characters Moodboard Aemond NSFW Alphabet

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

My other series: Masterlist

_____

He was never picky when it came to his female clients. They had to meet basic standards like hygiene, no venereal diseases and they couldn't go beyond a certain time, but once they signed a confidentiality clause, what he was going to do with them was no longer important to him.

He kept repeating to himself that he was there for them, not them for him, so he focused on giving them what they wanted in a way that didn't disturb his comfort zone.

He did not allow them to kiss or touch him with their hands − in fact, he preferred that any involvement they had in what was happening was minimal. What he found most pleasing in the whole act was his violence towards them, and the more they consented to, the more he was satisfied.

Their pleas and cries of pain combined with some subconscious pleasure that such sadomasochism gave them made him struggle to hold back the mocking smile that pressed against his lips.

They wanted to be treated like worthless objects, and that's what he was giving them, because that's exactly how he thought of them.

He didn't try to delve into considering what he thought of himself, because he decided that would end up with a visit to a psychiatrist. He was studying quantum physics, lived far away from his family and needed a steady, high source of income − since silly girls could make money from sex cams, he could make money that way, at least until he had no other prospects.

The only way to contact him was through an online form on his website, where they would write why they wanted to meet, indicate what suited them or not, and if he felt he could meet their whims, he would arrange to meet them to discuss the details and sign the documents.

Scrolling through dozens of similar messages about tying, gagging, beating and humiliation he stopped on one where only a few things were marked. He thought surprised that he wouldn't even link them to aggressive domination per se, and certainly not the kind he usually used.

Good morning. I've been thinking a lot lately about what I'd like to try, but I'm also a bit embarrassed about it. I don't know if this can be subsumed under your interests − I'm completely inexperienced, so maybe that's why I'm looking for a professional who knows what he's doing and would be able to show me what I actually need and want. I apologise for the rather chaotic explanation and send my regards. Selected practices: spanking, verbal domination, fingering

He blinked and scratched his chin, both intrigued and uncertain at the same time − he glanced quickly at her age and saw that she was younger than him. He bit his lower lip feeling that something in the idea that she was still inexperienced and only willing to explore her needs attracted him, the thought that this would be some sort of challenge for him.

He decided that why not.

She was an adult.

He looked forward to meeting her with the utmost curiosity. Her requirements were basic enough that he didn't need to prepare any extra kinks, and since she didn't want sex with penetration, it also gave him a greater sense of confidence and peace of mind − he knew he wouldn't have to chase his orgasm, imagining some woman from porn, and would be able to concentrate only on what he was doing to her.

When he heard a quiet knock on the door of the flat he rented only to meet his female clients, he got up immediately from behind his desk and opened it for her, swallowing hard as his gaze involuntarily swept over her figure and stopped on her face.

God.

This was not what he had expected.

She looked even younger than she had written; her eyes were big and bright, looking at him with fear and dread, though usually the women who came to him, learned by experience, kept their gaze meekly on the floor, waiting for him to command them to look at himself.

She was dressed in a plain white Tshirt and high-waisted jeans, a fabric coloured backpack on her back, her hair loose, shiny, dark, slightly wavy − he could smell the fruity scent of her perfume or shower gel.

He grunted quietly, trying to keep a stony face, feeling that involuntarily his gaze expressed shock. He took a few steps back and invited her in − she stepped inside uncertainly, turning away quickly as he closed the door behind her.

"Come in. Do not be afraid." He said lowly, pointing to his desk which stood in the deeper part of the flat − she walked in that direction, looking in horror at the bed standing on the other side of the room.

He heard her swallow hard, tense and red, pulling her backpack off her back − she placed it in her lap immediately after she sat down in the chair opposite him, as if trying to ward off and protect herself from him in this way.

He took his seat on the other side and tapped his index finger on the top of his wooden oak desk, thinking that he had never had a client like her before.

She was completely distracted, her gaze sweeping across the room as if she were a curious child, her fingers tightening on the material of her rucksack.

"As I mentioned, first the contract and confidentiality clause." He said calmly, handing her copies of the contract and clause he had sent her earlier.

She took them from him and looked into his eyes again, making him swallow hard; it wasn't a defiant look and it wasn't meant to seduce him. It seemed to him just the opposite − she wanted to show him that some part of her was genuinely afraid of him.

She nodded, her hands trembling all over as she took the sheets of paper in her hands − she looked around quickly and clumsily grabbed a pen.

He wondered, seeing what was happening to her, if what she wanted was really good for her and although he never meddled in his clients' decisions, he decided to intervene, for her sake and his own.

"You can still resign. I won't burden you with the cost." He said lowly, watching her closely, and saw that she flinched all over. She lifted the gaze of her bright eyes to him, her eyebrows arched in indecision, her mouth opened and closed as if she was trying to get something out of herself.

"I…I think I want to try. This one time. Do you think it's a bad idea, sir?" She asked him in a trembling, soft, girlish voice. The note of innocence that lurked in this after all defiant question made him twist in his seat, feeling surprised that his manhood swelled a little − he felt like he was literally burning her with his gaze.

He thought it was because she was so vulnerable − it turned him on that he was more experienced than her and had real control over what could happen next if she wanted it.

He chuckled involuntarily at her words, shaking his head, sighing quietly, looking at her indulgently.

"What I think about it doesn't matter." He murmured lowly, leaning comfortably against the back of his chair with a loud creak of wood.

He felt heat in his lower abdomen at the thought of her not dropping her gaze, boldly staring him in the face as if they had known each other for a long time, despite the fact that most women knew their buttocks would be red and swollen like tomatoes for such insolence.

"I would, however, like to hear your views on the matter, sir." She replied quickly, as if she recognised him as some sort of authority on the matter, a sexologist or anyone else who could give her a diagnosis.

"I am not a doctor. However, I don't think there is anything wrong with trying under controlled conditions. You also have a safe word that you can use at any time to stop whatever I'm doing. You have to decide." He said finally, and saw her nod her head, drawing in air loudly as if gathering her courage, and leaned over, signing the documents in the spaces indicated.

For some reason he involuntarily licked his lips, dried from some kind of excitement, his cock twitching hard in his trousers at the thought that she was really going to do this.

When she finished he took the papers from her, signed them and gave her one copy, reminding her of all the rules they had agreed and what she could not do.

"You can't touch me or kiss me. When we start, you are to call me sir and follow all my instructions. You are to answer all my questions by shaking or nodding your head unless I order you otherwise. I will not stop even if you beg me or cry until I hear your safe word which, please remind us, sounds how?" He asked softly, stapling the papers she had signed with a stapler, tucking them into his drawer, watching her out of the corner of his eye, feeling the heat in his lower abdomen at the very thought of what he was going to do to her.

Why was he so aroused when he hadn't even touched her yet?

"Peach." She muttered embarrassedly, looking down at her hands.

For a moment he wondered if he should add the rule he usually made where a woman couldn't look him in the eye, but something in her eyes captured him − her gaze wasn't seductive or filled with feelings he didn't want to see. He also guessed that forbidding it might overwhelm her even more, and he didn't want that.

He nodded at her words, rising, and she rose with him, holding her backpack in front of her, her shoulders raised slightly in a defensive gesture, as if she was afraid of him and the fact that she had somehow given him control over her.

He approached her slowly, looking at her vigilantly − her eyes fixed on his face as his hand took the rucksack from her arms in a gentle motion, dropping it next to her on the floor. His fingers rose to her cheeks, trailing over them, her jaw and her chin − he felt her tremble all over, surprised, her swollen, plump lips red with emotion.

Although he had never done this, he wanted to get a good look at her first − he knew that going straight to putting his hand in her panties would only frighten her and in this situation his tactics had to be a tad different.

First and foremost, he wanted to reassure her.

He saw that she had closed her eyes, trying to breathe slowly through her mouth as his hands slid down to her neck and her soft hair. He thought, smelling her fruity scent, that he would have given anything to have her kneel before him and take his achingly hard manhood into her mouth.

He decided that perhaps he would use his thoughts to embolden her a little more and let him do what he wanted.

"Such a sweet girl. You have no idea what I'd like to do with those lips." He hummed, feeling a shiver pass through her as one of his hands rose higher again, to her face, parting her lips with his thumb. "How hard I am now."

He saw the shock in her gaze, which quickly escaped down to the bulge in his trousers, her cheeks flushed as she looked up into his face again, her breathing quickened and ragged.

He sighed involuntarily at the sight.

"You can say a lot of things about me, but not that I'm a liar. Open." He commanded in a slightly cooler, stricter tone, her lips immediately parted slightly, allowing his thumb to slide deep between her fleshy, wet lips.

"Suck." He instructed, a quiet moan caught in her throat, her body suddenly quivering as the fingers of his free hand slid lower to her breast, teasing her nipple in calm, circular motions, her lips tightening around his thumb, obeying his command.

"Do you always walk around without a bra? Hm? Do you like it when men look at them?" He muttered warningly, pulling lightly on her nipple, looking at her curiously − she squirmed helplessly, closing her eyes, not knowing what to do with her hands. He could see how, in some subconscious reflex, she wanted to lift them up and embrace him, but reminded herself that she couldn't do that and lowered them again, moving him in some way and arousing him at the same time.

He couldn't remember if his client had ever made him completely hard by her behaviour itself.

"Quiet. We haven't even started properly yet, and already you want me to slap your arse?" He growled mockingly, and she shook her head quickly, drawing in air loudly, looking at him with a pleading look of her big, bright eyes, which he felt between his thighs as his cock swelled unbearably, demanding attention.

"This is my last warning. Lie on your stomach." He said coldly, although inside he felt like his body was on fire.

She obediently pulled off her shoes and lay down on the bed, watching, embarrassed, as he slipped his thumb, moist with her saliva, between his lips and licked it. He quickly pulled off his sweatshirt and shoes, leaving in his black short-sleeved T-shirt and trousers, fixing his hair with a careless flick of his hand.

"Leave only your panties on." He added, hearing her quiet squeal as his large hand gave her one, light, sharp smack on her buttock, just as an encouragement to keep her going.

"Just like that. So pretty." He hummed, watching her undress, climbing onto the bed behind her. He involuntarily licked his lips and grinned in amusement when he saw that underneath her trousers she was wearing pretty lace panties in powder pink.

He thought she was like a lollipop or candy, a sweet little gift bought just for pure pleasure.

As she pulled off her t-shirt she clung with her breasts to the bedclothes, looking somewhere sideways towards the window as if she was afraid of how exposed she was, that she was lying half-naked in front of a strange man who, on top of that, she was going to have to pay for it.

Although he cursed himself for it in the back of his head, the sincerity and naturalness of her behaviour endeared her to him − he thought in disbelief that he wasn't sure that even if she had asked him to punish her more harshly or to cause her intense pain he would have been able to do it.

Would it give him pleasure.

He took her hair aside, exposing her long neck and back, felt her shudder all over as his fingers ran along her spine.

"Are you going to be good, or should I tie you up?" He murmured and she nodded quickly − he hummed under his breath, stroking her bare skin. "Use your words."

"I'll be good. Sir." She added quickly, hearing him shift suddenly in irritation. He let out a loud breath through his nose, leaning down, grasping her wrists in his hands, placing them on either side of her head, showing her the position he expected her to hold them in.

"Your hands are supposed to be here at all times. On the pillow. If I see you take them away from here, I'll tie you up and on top of that, I'll give you ten slaps on the bottom to make sure you remember this lesson well. Do you understand? Use your words." He hissed, driving his fingers into the skin of her wrists, heard her swallow hard and nod her head quickly.

"− y-yes, sir −"

He gasped softly, pleased with her answer and the way it was going − he saw her hands tighten on the material of the pillow as he settled his knees on either side of her buttocks, lowering himself onto them so that she could feel his cock throbbing all under the material of his trousers. She stifled the cry that wanted to escape her lips by pressing her face against his bedding.

"− do you fucking feel it? − do you feel what you're doing to me? −" He muttered, trying to calm his breathing, not knowing why instead of pulling himself together and concentrating on his task he was teasing her, making his manhood painfully hard − he clamped his eyelids shut when he felt her hips begin to buck uncertainly to the rhythm of his movements.

He decided that fuck it, he would do it the way he felt like it, breaking his own rules, knowing that unlike the other women, she really needed this.

His closeness.

She sighed loudly and her whole body trembled as he pressed his face against her soft, fragrant hair, crushing her with his own weight, his hands roamed over the skin of her bare shoulders and the sides of her waist as his nose slowly slid lower, down to her neck, his fingers slipped underneath her and tightened on her soft, plump breasts as his lips pressed against her bare skin.

He heard her start to pant loudly through her mouth, surprised as he was, surely imagining it differently, writhing beneath him, his fingers digging warningly into the soft skin of her breasts, his hot breath enveloping her ear.

"− lie still or we'll do it rough − spread your thighs −" He growled, his thumbs pressing and playing with her nipples. He spread her legs with his knees, making her breath catch in her throat − he could feel her heart pounding fast under his hands, his tongue ran over the bare skin of her neck, smelling the salty taste of her sweat and the sweet taste of her perfume.

"− you're already wet, hm? − shall we check? −" He sneered, sliding the palms of his one hand down her belly − he saw out of the corner of his eye that her fingers clenched tightly on the fabric of the pillow, her whole body stiffened, her head tilted slightly as his fingertips pushed the soft, soaked material of her underwear aside, sinking into her leaking, fleshy womanhood.

"− good God − look at you − all sticky and warm −" He gasped as his fingers began to tease and squeeze her clit lightly, giving her a few encouraging strokes from which helpless, muffled sounds tried to escape her throat − his hand let go of her breasts for a moment and slapped her buttock with all his might, reminding her that she was supposed to be quiet.

He didn't even notice when he started rubbing against her faster from the top, chasing his own fulfilment, completely aroused by what was happening to her, how she was responding to him.

He felt like his cock was about to explode.

"− moan for me − let me hear these sweet sounds −" He whispered in her ear, driving his fingers harder into the soft, leaking structure of her folds.

Moan for me?

What the fuck was that supposed to be?

He sighed when she cried out loudly, clenching her eyes, writhing all under him, again and again rubbing his sore cock with her buttocks. He felt ashamed that even though he was the master of the situation, it seemed to him that somehow it was she who was dictating how it looked, or rather his inability to treat her as he did his other clients.

There was something innocent about her, that her goal was not for him to humiliate her, beat her or hurt her, but for him to guide her, to show her what she really desired and what he could do with her body.

He thought, running his fingertips over her moist, hot slit, that perhaps this was what he had been craving deep inside himself all this time.

"− ah − please, sir −" She mewled helplessly, and he felt her words between his thighs. He licked his lips, trailing his fingers over her throbbing, weeping cunt, teasing her hard nipple with his other hand, each of his movements accompanied by the loud click of her moisture.

"− what are you asking me to do? − use your words −" He exhaled, feeling that he was embarrassingly close to climax himself, and wondered if he was going to cum in his own trousers for the first time in his life.

"− please − please, put it inside me −" She mumbled out and he swallowed hard feeling her buttocks rubbing against his cock.

He froze for a moment, running his fingers over her hot, leaking folds, fighting with himself, on the one hand wanting only this, on the other the contract was different and he never broke the terms he himself had agreed to and signed.

What if, afterwards, she found that she didn't want it and decided that he had raped her, go to the police with it?

This thought sobered his mind a little, though his whole body shuddered with disappointment, his two fingers suddenly forced their way inside her with her moan of pleasure.

"− I can't − you know I can't, don't you? −" He breathed out, pressing the tips of his fingertips into the fleshy structure of her muscles, searching for the spot hidden between them.

She shuddered all over when he felt it a moment later, his thumb trailing over her clit as his two fingers dug in between her slick folds with a loud click of her wetness − he felt her whole body tense in anticipation, again and again his fingers squeezed her the way she needed it.

"− I'll be good, sir − please − please − please − I'll be good −" She cried out, her sticky walls began to clench around his fingers, sucking them inside and he closed his eyes, imagining he felt it on his hard, aching cock.

How tight she was.

He'd never done this before and he knew he shouldn't, but for some reason he was desperate, his mind clouded by what he'd seen and what he needed.

He watched her face in disbelief, her eyes closed, her cheeks flushed with exertion, her lips parted sweetly in a loud, accelerated breath.

"We can do this, but on my terms. I'll just fuck you, nothing more. No money. Do you understand?" He asked her in a trembling voice, as if he wanted to make sure she understood, that it meant nothing to him, that she just turned him on too much and he wanted to take it out on her.

He saw her eyes open suddenly, fear and relief filling her gaze as she whispered just a few words without looking at him.

"Let me look at your face, sir."

He himself didn't know when he suddenly flipped her onto her back as his lips clung with a loud purr to her hard, swollen nipple, sucking and licking it − he heard her moan loudly, startled, making him lose his temper. His hands in a helpless reflex slid down to the button of his trousers and his zipper, releasing his erection quickly, he wasn't sure he had ever been so terrified and aroused at the same time.

He knew things had gotten out of hand and that he would regret it, but he couldn't deny himself, knowing that he would probably never see her again.

"Don't touch me. Do you understand? If you touch me, I'll stop and I'll slap your arse so hard you won't be able to sit for the next few weeks." He hissed, looking her straight in the face, reaching his hand into his pocket to pull out the condom −she merely nodded, her hands clenched on either side of her face, her swollen lips parted in a quick, uneven breath.

He looked at her pretty figure, her sweet, plump breasts, her flushed face, her hair in disarray, and thought helplessly that she was beautiful and that he would go mad if he didn't do this to her.

Never before had he put a condom over his length as quickly as he did then − with a quick, sure, impatient movement he slid her panties off her, already all wet with her moisture, grabbed her by her hips and pushed her closer, momentarily forcing her tight, leaking folds to let him inside her.

He didn't speak, because he didn't know what he was supposed to say either, ashamed of his own desperation as he pushed deeper into her with a sure, sharp thrust.

He began to pound into her as if he had completely lost his mind, fast and out of control − she threw her head to the side, writhing beneath him, moaning loudly, her walls wonderfully moist and hot, clenching on him so tightly that he struggled to restrain himself from cumming just yet, not wanting to humiliate himself.

"− oh God −" He muttered, looking at her as if through a fog, leaning over her, his hands found hers, her fingers clenched on them, seeking proximity − she looked up at him pleadingly, panting and quivering.

He suspected that never before had anyone fucked her at such a brutal, fast pace from which she couldn't catch her breath, her thighs spread wide before him in a gesture of trust, their bodies slapping against each other with the loud clicks of her wetness.

"− these idiots couldn't even fuck you properly, hm? −" He panted low and she only nodded, his fingers intertwining with hers in some subconscious reflex, as if he wanted to show her that he understood her, that she had a right to be disappointed, that he had no idea how any man could fail to give her what she needed.

"− my poor little baby − am I right? −" He breathed out and she cried loudly and nodded her head, something in her gaze, in her eyes flooded with tears, filled with despair, tenderness and relief made him lean lower and cling to her lips.

She moaned loudly into his throat and he felt her walls squeeze him tightly with a sudden, intense orgasm, sucking him inside as his tongue invaded between her lips. She reciprocated his kiss with such devotion that a few of his helpless, sloppy thrusts were enough to make him cum into the condon.

"− fuck − fuck, baby −" He breathed out into her mouth as if she was his, as if they were in his bed in his flat, as if he loved her and was about to have dinner with her or go to sleep lying next to her, as if she wasn't a stranger to him, her sweet scent, her innocent sounds and the taste of her mouth were all that filled his mind as he continued to rock his hips deep inside her.

Even though they had both came, they didn't stop kissing, their lips joining and pulling away from each other lazily with a loud click of their saliva, his hands roaming up and down her fingers, alternately stroking them and entwining them with his own again.

Something about what was happening between them, about this sudden, unexpected closeness calmed him and made him completely drift off.

He knew that she had wanted to touch and kiss him from the very beginning, but she still respected his decision and his rules.

And he, for some reason incomprehensible to himself, broke them for her.

He pressed his face to her cheek, panting along with her, unsure of what he should do now, distracted and ashamed that he couldn't help himself, that for the first time in his life he had overstepped the time and competence he should have given her.

And that wasn't good.

What if she thinks now that they are in love with each other, that maybe one day they will be together? If she starts writing to him and stalking him like so many women before her?

"I'm sorry." He heard her whisper and shuddered, snapped out of his reverie.

He opened his eyes and met her gaze, her hands still on either side of her head. He grunted quietly, horrified at how close she was, that he could smell her pleasant scent so intensely, her breath, the warmth of her body.

"I'm the one who should apologise. I behaved unprofessionally. I won't take money from you." He replied after a moment, and she shook her head, shocked.

"− n-no, why − I mean − after all, you did what we agreed to do − you gave me your time, I −"

"− you're not the kind of person who would enjoy a strong dominant-submissive interaction − you'd be terrified − you're worrying too much − probably those guys before me didn't ask you what you needed, hm? − that's what I thought − there's nothing wrong with you − that's my diagnosis −" He hummed, sighing heavily, lifting himself up on his elbows, placing a lingering, tender kiss on her forehead.

He slipped out of her gently with her quiet hiss of discomfort − he saw her press her lips together when he slided the shed condom off his manhood and tie it off, tossing it into the small bin standing next to his bed, zipping his trousers back up. He saw her reach with a trembling hand for her underwear and sighed under his breath, shaking his head.

"Wipe yourself well first, the tissues are lying on the table next to you. Don't you have underwear to change into?" He asked uncertainly, realising that this was usually obvious to the women who visited him, as it was to him, so he didn't warn her, thinking she would figure it out for herself.

She shook her head quickly and he sighed heavily, taking a bottle of water standing on the table, unscrewing it and handing it to her, seeing that she completely didn't know what she should do with herself now.

"− drink − you'd better just wipe yourself off and put your trousers on −" He replied and she nodded, red with embarrassment, taking a few deep sips of water without looking at him.

He turned away as she started to get dressed, running his hand over his face, recognising that he was an idiot and had completely lost his fucking mind, unable to forgive himself for fucking her even though their terms were different.

He shuddered as she approached him quietly − he thought terrified that she was going to try to touch him, maybe even thinking they were going to become lovers now, but she just held a bundle of banknotes in front of him, looking at him pleadingly.

"− I already told you I won't take it − keep it −"

"− I can't, after all −"

"− don't piss me off −" He growled, and she pressed her lips together, lowering her hand, swallowing loudly.

They stared at each other for a long moment in awkward silence to say the least − he grunted, combing his fingers through his hair, feeling that for some reason his heart was pounding like crazy.

What was happening to him?

"− consider it a gift − we both made each other feel good − right? −" He asked, as if he wanted to make sure he hadn't hurt her. She nodded and smiled softly, shyly, for some reason making him feel a squeeze in his throat.

He regretted that she had ever written to him.

He regretted that he had said yes.

He regretted that it had been so pleasant.

"− thank you − and I apologise again − I won't take up your time anymore − I wish you all the best − please take care of yourself and be happy −" She said finally, and he flinched, looking at her in disbelief − he felt that his lips were parted in shock as he looked at her dully.

He didn't know what to answer.

Only after a while did he get anything out of himself, feeling that she was due at least some perfunctory response.

"− it's me who's sorry − I also wish you all the best −"

She nodded and smiled warmly at him, before her trembling hand reached for her backpack and headed towards the door, opening it and disappearing behind it a moment later.

He looked at the bed, at the sheets where the mark of her body was clearly visible, the fact that she had just been lying there, that he had been deep inside her and had fucked her like he had never put his cock inside any woman before.

He went over there and just lay on his stomach, sinking his face into the pillow that was drenched in her scent.

For the next few days, his head was in a state of chaos − one part of him was afraid that she would reach out to him, that she would seek contact or a relationship with him, like so many women before her wanting to be special to him, to be the only one.

The other part of him was even begging for her to do it, for him to be able to free himself at last from the memories of what he had done to her, that she had broken something in him, that he couldn't look at the women who came after her.

He couldn't focus, he felt remorse, he couldn't even get aroused and he was so frustrated that, to the despair of his regular clients, he decided to take a break for a few weeks to cool down.

His friend from university, Robert, had already invited him to his birthday party a month earlier and although he didn't have the energy to go anywhere, he knew that afterwards he would be listening to him and Criston moan in class about how completely unsocial he was.

He figured that since it was only going to be a private party at his house, he might as well go there at least for a while so no one would accuse him of lack of effort.

When he stopped outside his house he got out of the car and decided to have a quick cigarette, tired and discouraged, knowing that sooner or later his savings would run out and he would have to go back to it, whether he wanted to or not.

Or find another, lower-paid job.

He sighed heavily, clamping his fingers over the base of his nose, closing his eyes, trying to calm himself. He heard movement beside him and the screech of brakes, lifted his gaze and froze when it became apparent that she had just sat down beside him from her bike, a wide smile on her lips as if she thought he was a stranger, only recognising him after a moment, her lips parted then in horror, panic in her gaze.

He stared at her, feeling his body freeze.

Fuck.

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

"Oh God. Do you know Robert?" She muttered, and he swallowed hard, feeling a tightening in his throat at the thought that she could have been his friend's girlfriend.

"Yes. Fuck. And you?" He asked her quickly with some sort of accusation, from which she swallowed hard.

"I-I, I'm his younger sister. I went to get some candles, I didn't know…"

"It's okay. I'll just go home." He replied, taking a few quick puffs of his cigarette, crushing it with his foot, turning back towards his car.

"N-no, please. Are you Aemond? Did I guess right? Robert was telling me about you. How he's glad you're coming. That you rarely talk or go out somewhere as a threesome with Criston. It's good that we met here, we'll avoid an awkward greeting. Please, don't be embarrassed." She muttered, and he sighed heavily, running his hand over his face, heartbroken. They both shuddered when they heard a knock on the glass, Robert looked at them through the window and started waving at them, gleeful.

Jesus Christ.

They both headed towards her house, knowing that since he'd seen him, he couldn't run away anymore anyway. He was terrified that since she was Robert's sister, she was someone familiar, not a stranger, that this changed everything and nothing, his heart pounding like mad.

"Do you have a lighter?" She asked as they stopped in front of the front door and he shook his head, snapped out of his reverie, frowning his brow.

"What?"

"Do you have a lighter? Can you help me? I need to light the candles on his birthday cake." She muttered in a whisper as if someone might overhear them, and she was telling him an important secret. He sighed heavily and nodded, recognising that he must have been dreaming all this.

Robert greeted him with joy, all around them Criston, their family and a few of his high school friends, a whole group of people he didn't know and with whom he knew he wouldn't find common ground, and among them her.

He wished him well and gave him his present, but he was unable to focus − he met her terrified gaze, she was pointing her finger at him that she needed his help in the kitchen.

He followed her as if into the lion's mouth, watching from the side as she opened the fridge in the darkness, taking out a blueberry meringue. She sighed heavily, placing it on the table in front of him, only the lights of the street lamps around them.

"It looked better in the picture on the internet, but I did my best." She mumbled, as if she wanted to say anything that would lighten the atmosphere between them.

He felt like an idiot when their trembling hands touched as he handed her the lighter and swallowed loudly, watching as one by one the candles began to glow with the warm, bright light of the flame.

He wanted to ask her if something in her life had changed, if she now knew what she wanted and needed, if she thought about what had happened.

Was she thinking about him.

She picked up the cake when it was all ready and let the air out loud through her mouth, looking him straight in the eye.

"Let's go."

After singing a short 'Happy Birthday', Robert blew out all the candles, happy to announce that his little sister had remembered what cake he loved best, assuring everyone that it was certainly delicious.

They spent the whole party throwing surreptitious, embarrassed glances at each other − he had to empty a few glasses of strong Whisky to calm himself down, the alcohol relaxing him a little, though only seemingly, suppressing his fear, but making him start thinking about something else again.

He looked at her figure dressed in a modest mid-thigh summer dress, her hair, her face − saw the way she laughed, the way she talked to others and felt a squeeze in his throat at the thought that then, being with him, she wasn't pretending.

She really was like that.

Affectionate, open, sweet, kind.

Everything he wasn't.

He swallowed heavily at the thought, sad and embittered, taking another deep sip from his glass.

"How are you going to get home? Criston is staying the night at our house, why don't you stay too? It's late." Said Robert sitting down next to him on the couch, patting him on the back in a friendly manner, already himself relaxed by the considerable amount of alcohol his body had assimilated.

He swallowed hard, looking at his sister from afar, feeling that this was a very bad idea.

"Why not." He muttered, thinking that he was a moron for looking for trouble himself, and that if Robert found out what he'd done to his sister, he'd kill him with his own hands.

Criston and a few others occupied the upstairs rooms, and he suggested he could sleep in the living room on the couch, to which Robert agreed.

He hoped this would embolden her to come to him, as he himself would never have dared to knock on her door despite how desperate he was.

At the thought that he might feel her again, his manhood reacted with an enthusiastic, intense pulsing in his trousers.

He felt that he was drunk as he began to pull off his black tight turtleneck, managing it with difficulty, pulling off his shoes, laying down dressed only in Tshirt and trousers with a quiet sigh and covered himself carelessly with the blanket, listening.

Is she going to do it or not?

And even if she comes to him, should he agree?

He felt disappointment when an hour passed and nothing happened, silence all around him and the loud snoring of someone coming from the upstairs rooms, perhaps her and Robert's father. He sighed heavily, recognising that he had made it all up, that she was surely now ashamed of him and what she had done, trying to forget it.

He swallowed hard at the thought, feeling discomfort in his stomach, and closed his eyes, figuring he would try to get at least a few hours of sleep.

He shuddered and opened them again when he heard a quiet creak, as if someone was walking down the corridor above him, but he wasn't sure himself if it wasn't just his imagination. A shiver ran down his spine and his manhood swelled all over when he heard someone quietly walk down the steps.

Whoever this person was, however, she didn't approach him but walked through the living room to the kitchen.

He felt his heart start pounding like crazy when he caught sight of her silhouette in the darkness, dressed only in an oversized white Tshirt and light shorts − she walked over to the tap, took a glass from the drawer and poured herself some water.

Should he approach her or not?

What if she gets scared?

Fuck.

He didn't even know when he just picked himself up on the couch, for some reason doing it very slowly so that his movements couldn't be heard − he felt like a predator who wanted to get closer to his prey even though he didn't really intend to harm her.

As soon as he stood up he immediately felt the room around him spin, the pleasant, intoxicating warmth of the alcohol melting through his lower abdomen making him seem less terrified of what he wanted to do than if he had been completely sober.

When she caught sight of his silhouette out of the corner of her eye she almost choked on the water − she spat some of it into the sink coughing loudly, making him freeze motionless, afraid to approach her. She quickly wiped her mouth with her hand, looking at him with big eyes.

"My God, you scared me." She muttered pale, her pretty, smooth face illuminated by the warm light of the street lamps standing in front of her house.

He stared at her for a moment, thinking that perhaps it must all have been a dream after all, that the fact that she was standing in front of him was unreal, invented by his distraught, drunken mind.

"I'm sorry." He stammered, swallowing hard, standing a good distance away from her, fighting with himself not to look shamelessly at her bare legs and her nipples peeking through from under her T-shirt.

Again.

They stood for a moment in uncomfortable silence, both of them breathing embarrassingly loudly, as if each of them was reliving deep inside themselves the fact that they were seeing each other again.

And on top of that, in her brother's house.

"I didn't know you were his sister. I swear. I would never do that to you." He finally started to speak, to explain, although he didn't know why − he had the feeling that he was trying to get anything out of himself so she didn't go back upstairs to her room.

He heard her sigh quietly, stroking her bare shoulder with her trembling hand. She shifted from foot to foot in a nervous gesture, looking somewhere to the side, her lips parted slightly in an accelerated breath.

"I know." She whispered, and he felt a heat in his lower abdomen and a pleasant shudder at the thought that perhaps she wasn't misjudging him, that perhaps she wasn't disgusted by him at all.

"How do you feel? I mean − are you okay?" She asked in a trembling voice, as if she wasn't sure if she should be asking this kind of question. She glanced at him uncertainly, clearly wanting to check his reaction, he stared at her stunned, completely surprised by her question.

"− I… yeah, I guess − I mean, I'm on a break from − you know − from this − right now −" He muttered, tucking his hands into the pockets of his black trousers, looking at the floor, feeling ashamed and embarrassed for some reason.

It's because of you, he wanted to say.

I did it for you.

"Something happened?" She asked after a moment, playing with the fingers of her hands in a nervous reflex, as if she was afraid of what she would hear.

"− yes − I mean − I have doubts − I always had, but now… they've intensified − you know −" He muttered, shrugging his shoulders, feeling the tightness in his throat and stomach growing stronger, his heart pounding like mad, cold sweat running down his back.

I'm just a whore, he thought.

I sell myself for money.

She nodded her head quickly so he knew she understood.

"− I'm sorry −" She said quietly, and he looked at her dully, not knowing why for some reason his lower lip trembled, why he felt a burning sensation under his eyelids.

He was ashamed that he desired her so much, that he wanted her words but also her body, wanted to fuck her first and then embrace her and fall asleep.

Was he treating her objectively? Was he only able to think about one thing?

Sex, sex, sex, sex.

He couldn't get anything out of himself.

He shuddered, drawing in air loudly as she came closer to him, in her gaze genuine fear and worry at his condition, questioning whether she could do anything for him, help him in any way.

He knew she longed to touch him − he saw out of the corner of his eye her hand rising to touch his shoulder but falling back after a moment, reminding himself that he never allowed anyone to invade his space.

He felt like screaming.

"− do you want to talk about it? −"

He wasn't sure he wanted to talk to anyone about it, but after a while he was sitting next to her on the terrace anyway, covered in a thick, soft blanket, sitting next to her on a rather uncomfortable wooden bench hanging by chains, which he rocked back and forth with involuntary movements of his knees, lighting a cigarette from his lighter with a quiet hiss of fire.

He took a drag and let the smoke out loudly through his nose, sighing quietly, just thinking about the fact that their hips and shoulders were touching.

"What did you think of me? After all this." He asked suddenly, swallowing loudly as he heard her twist in her place, throwing him a surprised, even horrified look. She sighed quietly, covering herself more tightly with the fluffy material.

"That you are a good man."

He felt his hand with the cigarette freeze in mid-motion as he was about to take another drag and for some reason he laughed in disbelief at her words, feeling a piercing pain in his chest, his eyebrows arching in amusement.

"That I'm a good man. Good God." He hummed, taking another drag − he could see she was looking down at her fingers, ashamed of her words and his cruel reaction. He licked his lower lip with his tongue and closed his eyes, feeling that he was completely hard.

He could smell her, she was still using that fruity, pleasant, fresh perfume.

"You're a romantic, innocent soul, aren't you?" He sneered, letting the smoke out again through his nose with a loud sigh − he heard her cough quietly as the smell of tobacco rose into her lungs. She grunted quietly, her lips tightened in displeasure.

"Innocent souls come to a strange man to spank them for money?"

"You didn't want me to spank you. You haven't experienced even a hint of real, hard domination, sweet girl." He snarled, spreading himself out comfortably on the back of the bench with a loud creak of wood, the metal chains squeaking quietly each time he made another movement with his foot, putting the structure in motion.

"So why did you agree to this?" She asked finally, and he fell silent, staring blankly ahead, taking one last drag on what was left of his cigarette.

"Good question."

They both fell silent again, feeling that their conversation was starting to get out of hand, and after all, someone could have woken up, opened the window, overheard their words.

"Did you tell Robert?" He asked suddenly, and she shook her head, horrified.

"N-no, of course not. And I won't. This is between you two. He respects you very much." She muttered, lowering her gaze to her bent knees, which she held under her chin. He hummed at her statement, accepting her words with some sort of relief.

"Did that help you? Now you know what you need?" He asked impassively, letting the smoke out loudly through his mouth, dropping the remnants of his cigarette into the glass with the unfinished drink, feeling her gaze on him, her body tense, he knew she had hesitated.

"In a way." She replied, and he dared to look her straight in the eye.

She didn't lower her gaze even though he knew some part of her wanted to do so, her lips parted slightly when she noticed his hands had slipped under the blanket, into his trousers. She swallowed loudly when she heard the sound of his zipper being undone and the fabric being unfastened.

"Come here. Sit on my lap." He ordered softly, and she did so without hesitation, as if she had only been waiting for those words, something in her confidence, in her assurance, in her desire, in her hot gaze made his breath stand in his throat.

They said nothing as he slipped her shorts off her, as he lowered his trousers, finally releasing his aching, swollen erection, already leaking from his precum. He didn't protest when her hands tentatively embraced his neck, barely touching him, merely catching her balance, his free hand covering their hips with a blanket.

"I'm clean. I had myself tested a few weeks ago, after I'd already taken a break." He whispered, feeling his cock throb aggressively in his hand at the thought that he could come deep inside her if she would just let him. She nodded her head in understanding, one movement of his hand between her thighs reassuring him that no further treatment would be necessary.

"Have you been this wet all evening? Hm? Have you suffered as much as I have?" He gasped, directing the pink, fat head of his manhood at her swollen slit. She nodded again, her lips parted in disbelief and delight, her eyes closed as she felt him begin to push inside her,his thumbs spreading her folds to the sides, watching with a rapidly beating heart as he slowly opened her wide on his cock.

"− fuck − fuck, tell me you're taking your pills −" He breathed out, tilting his head back, with one sure thrust of his hips filling her tight, leaking cunt to the brim. She squirmed quietly as he began to move inside her immediately, pounding into her with deep, sure stabs, rubbing each time the spot inside her from where she could see stars.

"− y-yes −" She mumbled out, rising and falling on his thick, aching manhood, giving him a wonderful squeeze each time, from which he sank his fingers deeper into her soft buttocks, forcing her into a fast, sharp rhythm in which he hardly slid out of her, panting and grunting louder than usual, thinking only of how wonderfully warm she was, that he could feel her moist, fleshy walls with his whole being with each sure thrust.

"− kiss me −" He exhaled and groaned loudly into her mouth as her lips instantly clung to his in a sloppy, sticky dance, his tongue invading deep into her throat, a shudder went through him as one of her hands combed through his hair.

"− m sorry −" She mumbled, immediately lowering her hand, but he put his one arm around her waist and pressed her closer to him, deepening the kiss with a loud purr of satisfaction, feeling wonderful, the alcohol had given him courage, and her touch was sweet and tender, not making him feel cornered.

"− it's okay − touch my face −" He sighed out between loud, wet licks of their swollen lips, quickening his pace as her hands gripped his cheeks, as her forehead pressed against his. Her walls began to clench on him with increasing intensity, making him lose his temper, not letting her escape the brutal thrusts of his hips.

"− oh, God − fuck, where −" He only mumbled, feeling that it was about to be too late.

"− please, inside me − ah −" She mewled so sweetly that he sighed loudly, surprised to feel his muscles relax, his semen spilling deep inside her without his willpower as her walls began to suck him and squeeze him in orgasm.

They both panted loudly, rocking their hips for a while longer, pulsing and shuddering, stroking each other's faces, looking at each other with their lips slightly parted, breathing heavily.

"− shall we go out somewhere tomorrow? − you know − to the pub or something? −" He muttered embarrassed that he had wanted something more, that he broke his own rule.

He was relieved when she giggled and smiled, nodding, only to lean in a moment later and kiss him in a drawn-out manner with her soft, puffy lips. He murmured contentedly, stroking her warm, bare buttocks with lazy movements, reciprocating her caress with a loud click of their saliva.

She pulled away from him at last, her hand combing slowly through his short hair making a pleasant shiver run along his spine.

"− why not −"

[scarletlizzard]

Part 1: Get Help

Sessions Series

Pairing: psychiatrist Wanda x female reader

Tags Minors DNI: being stalked, paranoia, therapy, mentions of sex

Masterlist

Fall 2018

It was the same thing every day.

You wake up, make breakfast, and go for a run. You go to work, a normal 9-5 job downtown. After work, you would wind down by making dinner and sometimes taking a bath with a glass of wine. You go to bed around the same time every night, letting the sounds of I Love Lucy lull you to sleep.

Your routine was all but normal, though. You had a shadow.

Your daily jog was filled with turning your head, constantly aware of a presence behind you, one that you could never see. You thought it was over until one night when you were making dinner, you happened to look out the window and saw a person standing across the street. The glass of wine you were holding dropped from your hand onto the floor beneath your feet. You step back onto the glass and wince, tearing your eyes from the shapeless figure.

When you look up again, they've disappeared.

This happened for weeks until you finally gave in and told your friend one night over a bottle of wine.

"Look, this is them. They're back," you say, handing the phone to Natasha. She raises an eyebrow and looks at the blurry picture on the screen. Practically a black dot next to the bus stop a few houses down from yours.

"But why would they wait so long? It's been over a year, and.." she squints, staring at the picture. "That kind of just looks like a blob.." the woman says and sips her wine, a concerned look on her face at your frantic state.

"It's not. It's them! I-I swear I'm being followed, being watched... every where I go, it's like, I can feel them. The police won't do anything about it." You move your shaking hand away from her to gulp down the rest of your wine.

"Look, Y/N.." Natasha sighs and sets down her glass, turning her body to face yours. "I know you've been through a lot, everything that.. happened last summer. I think - maybe you should.. get some help." She tries to soften the blow of calling you crazy by resting a hand on your thigh. You only look to her with betrayed eyes.

"I'm not crazy," you speak calmly, your tone stern, but the crack in your voice only solidifies Natashas' point.

"I don't think you are, Y/N. Here.." She grabs her purse, pulling out a business card from it casually, as if she just happened to have it. You knew her better than that. "This is my friend. She's an amazing psychiatrist. Just talk to her, give it a chance."

You snatch the card away from her hands, not making eye contact with her. Natasha sighs again and stands, watching your leg bounce harder. She leans down to kiss your forehead.

"I'll call you tomorrow. I love you.." She trails off, unsure if you'd even reply.

"Love you." You mumble, pouring yourself another glass.

After she leaves, you stare at the business card in your hand, eyes settled on the name in bold lettering. You crumple the card, ball it up in your hand, and throw it across the room. It bounces off the wall with a small 'thunk'. Then you're left sitting, recalling the events of last summer.

***

Summer 2017

It was an exceptionally hot night. The air conditioner had been broke all day, leaving you sweating and fanning yourself with a magazine. Also leaving you with no choice but to leave the windows open, letting a cooler breeze flow through your quiet house.

You shot a quick text to Natasha- See you tomorrow, meet at the coffee shop near yours.

With a sigh, you rest your head on the back of the couch, listening to the voices on the TV. You get a strange feeling suddenly, your whole body covered in goosebumps, the small hairs on your arms standing straight up. You slowly open your eyes, staring straight ahead at the characters running around the screen.

"Get a grip, Y/N.." You mumble to yourself, patting your cheeks as if to wake yourself up. Maybe you just needed some sleep. Your anxiety seemed to be kicking up again. Your hands reach for the remote on the table in front of you, and you press the power button, turning the TV off.

It's then you see, in the black screen, reflecting an image not only of you but a person standing directly behind you.

***

Current Fall 2018

No, I'm NOT doing this right now.

You think to yourself, swallowing down your third glass of wine for the night. Instead, you get up to double -no, triple- check all of the locks in your house. The windows to the backyard, locked. The sliding glass backdoor, locked. The windows to the front of the house, locked. The front door, locked. The side door leading to the garage, locked. Windows in any bedrooms, locked. Your bedroom door and window, locked.

It was exhausting, but it was a routine you had been following for the past year. It kept you safe. You turn on I Love Lucy, drifting off into another nightmare with your mysterious shadow.

The morning after, you awake to your alarm and slap your hand on your loud phone to slide it off. You lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling. The morning sun shines brightly in the room, the light warm on your skin.

I am NOT crazy...

You repeat to yourself over and over, a mantra easily spoken and believed in your mind. Breakfast was made and eaten, running shoes tied to your feet, laces double knotted, ID and cash in case of emergencies, and headphones settle snug in your ears. The first mile was fine, humming along to your music, and enjoying the cold fall. It was when you were heading back towards your house that you began to have that unsettling feeling.

Your panicked eyes look around as you jog, your head constantly turning from side to side as you look for your shadow. You find yourself reaching into your pocket, letting your hand grab onto the pepper spray you had brought with you. Only a little ways to go. It's fine.

Your pace sped up, but your shadow was creeping up closer to you. Your heart was racing. Sweat was dripping down your forehead. With your thumb gripping the spray, you suddenly turn around, spraying the shadow behind you.

"Ahhh! What the fuck!" A man screams, falling to his knees in front of you. Your heart was beating out of your chest at the sight of him, rubbing his eyes and screaming in pain. But on the sidewalk in front of him you see your emergency clip that held your cash and ID.

"Jason! Oh my god, what did you do to him?" A woman comes running up to his side, sliding her arm around him. "Are you crazy? You dropped this. He was trying to give it back to you!" She screams at you, throwing the clip in your direction. Dollar bills fly to the ground, and you back up.

"I-I'm sorry! I didn't know, I thought he was - I didn't know.." Your voice trails off as you shake your head, hands shaking. "I didn't know.." You repeat it 4 times.

"Y/N, you're lucky he didn't press charges, I can't believe you actually pepper sprayed him.." Natashas voice sounded from the phone in your hand as you recall the events from the morning.

"I know, I can't believe I did either. I feel so fucking bad about it.." you hold your head in your hand, guilt filling your gut.

"It happened. There's nothing you can do about it now. He'll be fine.. people get pepper sprayed all the time," she tries to joke, attempting to lighten the mood.

You sit up and sigh into the phone, looking around the room. The TV playing, the dusty art supplies sitting on a desk in the corner. Your eyes find and focus on the crumpled business card on the floor by the wall. As you stand, your feet carry you over, picking it up.

"I'll talk to you later, Nat," you say, letting her say goodbye before you hang up. Your hands straighten out the card, and you once again read the name in bold lettering.

The clock on the wall read 5:28 as you sat, one day after work, on a chair in the hallway near the front door. You look around the hallway that leads to a massive house. It seemed the front was used for her practice, a room on either side of the hallway. One you assumed an office, the other a room to meet with patients. The clock ticked to 5:29, and your leg began to bounce.

The door on the wall across from you opens, revealing a brown headed woman with a warm smile on her face. She was taller, a creme colored blouse and brown pants settled on her legs. Her familiar green eyes find yours, and you both let out a small, awkward chuckle.

"Y/N.." Wanda says and holds out her hand to you, watching as you stand in front of her.

Your hand reaches for hers, "Wanda.." Her hand is warm and soft in yours. You know you linger too long in her grip. She leads you into room number two, a medium-sized room with one big, comfortable looking chair and an even more comfortable looking couch. Behind her comfy chair was an extravagant looking fireplace. Bookshelves lined the walls, and as you walked inside, your fingers trail the spines of the books that sat on them. It felt comfortable and safe. The sun was beginning to set, and an orange glow filled the room. Wanda sits in a chair, a notepad, and pen in her lap. You follow suit, sitting across from her on the couch.

"So, are you sure you want to do this? I'd be more than happy to recommend you to some other, highly recommended, co-workers of mine?" Wanda says with a smile, and you can't help but blush. She just had that effect on you.

"As long as you're okay with it, I am. I trust you, and right now, I really need that.." You mumble the last part, sitting back into the couch. Wanda nods, understanding of you.

One of the last times you saw Wanda she was in your bed, giving you what still stands today, the best orgasms of your life. Natasha had thrown a Christmas party where you met. You and Wanda came alone. You both had a lot to drink, and one thing led to another. You spent the night talking and laughing, getting to know each other as you came on her fingers. After that, you saw her from time to time, over a couple of months. She let you eat her out on your couch and fucked you against the counter in your kitchen. It was the best sex you'll probably ever have. You felt more alive with her than you had in years.

But then you had to leave town for work, and by the time you came back, the two of you had lost touch. Then, a few months after, during the summer, when your shadow appeared, you cut practically everyone out of your life.

"Well then, let's get started," Wanda interrupts your train of thoughts with a click of her pen, crossing her legs. "I reviewed the file you sent over from your stay at the Bay Point Medical Center. Do you want to talk about that?" She asks, her voice as smooth as honey.

You let out a shaky sigh, playing with the zipper of the bag you held in your lap. "I've always been.. anxious, since I was a kid. Always had these uh, routines. Tie my shoes until they felt right, flick the lights 4 times before bed."

"Were you ever diagnosed or tested as a kid?"

"No, my mom didn't believe in that sort of thing."

"So you were first diagnosed with OCD and Bipolar Disorder at Bay Point." Wanda makes a note. You tap your leg 4 times.

"Yes."

"So what led you to that moment, to that night?" Her voice is so inviting. You would tell her just about anything at this point.

"I'm sure it says in the file.." You clear your throat, suddenly being unable to look her in the eyes.

"There is a version, but I'd like to hear yours." Her eyebrows raise, pen hovering over the paper of the pad.

"It was a few days after I saw my shadow," you start, Wanda has a curious look on her face.

A pause.

"Your shadow?" She asks, you nod.

"The stalker, person watching me." You reply, she nods for you to continue. "I hadn't slept in days. The police didn't believe me. There was no evidence, they said, that anyone besides me had been in the house that night. So I went to the docks, and I-I bought a gun from some junkie. I'm not proud of what I did," you say, meeting her comforting gaze.

"I'm sure. You hadn't slept in days. You were delusional - sleep deprived. No medication, no diagnosis. Under extreme stress. Given the circumstances, I'm glad no one was hurt." Wanda concurs.

"Well, maybe not physically. But when you wave a gun around at 3 in the morning down the street, maybe a little psychological damage to the family that found me," you groan and put your head in your hands.

"The report said you had left a note at your house. What did it say?" Wanda asks, and you think back to when you scribbled on a piece of paper, what you thought would be, your last words. You're quiet for a moment. Wanda can tell you won't answer that question just yet.

"How about, who did you leave it for?" She asks.

"For my shadow."

The rest of the session you had spilled about your feelings that night and talked about you OCD and Bipolar disorder. You told her about your stay at the mental hospital, and told her about your routines. You spoke to her of almost everything.

"I think this session was really productive, Y/N. You've been very open with me, and I appreciate that." Wanda stood at the front door, smiling down to you. It was dark now, the sun at set completely. "I'll see you at the same time, Thursday?"

You nod and smile back at her. "I'll see you then." You walk to your car, feeling lighter. But you also can't ignore the hair on the back of your neck rising as you drive away.

***

Summer 2017

You scream loudly as you turn to see a figure behind you. A shadow, dressed in all black. A white faceless mask covered their true face. They stand still as you back away, slowly tilting their head to the side.

"Run." A menacing whisper, a familiar tone.

You run.

[ctrlsht]

Fragment of the Past 03

pairing: patient!jungkook x psychiatrist!reader genre: thriller & yandere au

summary: You are a well-known and respected psychiatrist and author. You start treating Jungkook, who suffers from PTSD after surviving an extremely traumatic incident. As you help him confront his traumatic past, he begins to act strangely, and you start uncovering something about him that will change everything.

chapter summary: You thought that you could finally escape from Jungkook but little did you know that he has something more to hold against you. You endure everything that he did to you but he was too much until you can no longer take him anymore.

chapter warnings: hazing, fraternity, blackmailing, manipulation, smut, non con/dub con, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), mc was traumatized, stalking, murder, major character death word count: 11.3K

parts: (1) | (2) | (3)

note: This fiction will contain multiple mental disorders and psychology facts. I conducted my own research to avoid spreading misinformation, but there may be aspects I've overlooked, so I am open for any corrections.

"Why are you here? Aren't you aware of the restraining order?" You threw your pen on the table and stood up from your seat, while a sinister smile curled his lips. He continued to take a step towards you and you immediately pushed the buttons that connected to the reception desk. He only laughed before he spoke.

“It’s 9 in the evening, Y/N. No one’s here except for the both of us.” His words send shivers down your spine.

He was right, Soyeon and your other colleagues went home 3 hours ago and you’re the only one left inside. 

You love to overwork but right now, you wish that you just continue working at home. 

He’s going to kill you before the night ends. You’re sure of it. 

You reach your phone with a shaking hand as you scroll to your contact list and click Detective Jung’s number. 

“Who are you going to call? Detective Jung?” His words were like whispers from the depths of darkness.

Detective Jung isn’t answering your calls. 

“You’d be arrested once you come near me.” You tried to threaten him, but it only sounded like a joke to him.

He took a seat in his usual position as he intertwined both of his hands.

“I commend you for your cleverness when you ask for a restraining order against me,” He crosses his legs and touches his lips. “Unfortunately for you, it won’t stop me from attending our sessions."

“It’s my first time attending an evening session, is it also your first time, Dr. Y/N?” He said with a malevolent grin stretched across his lips.

“I swear, before the sun rises tomorrow, you’d be arrested.” You spoke, clenching your jaw. 

“With how fast you climb to the top, I thought you were smart, Y/N. But I was wrong.” He pokes the inside of his cheek as he smirks. “You should know by now the reason why I’m not in jail for killing my mother.” 

You weren’t able to respond, like a cat caught your mouth. 

“I thought that you’ll do great in kicking me out of your life so I came prepared. I even thought that you’d approach a different detective for this one, and fortunately, you still decide to approach Detective Jung.” He pauses to let out his laughs. “Don’t you know that he was the reason why I’m still free? He’s my best friend, Y/N!” A sinister laugh erupted from his throat as your body started to shake. 

“I even came up with a plan with my lawyer if ever I was arrested but damn Y/N, I somehow wish that you give me a thrill. You made my life easier than I expected.”

As he said those words, your legs turned to jelly, and a tightness gripped your chest. 

You’ve underestimated him and his power and now, your life's on the line. 

“Go ahead and ruin my reputation. Upload those recordings online, I don’t care anymore. I can’t stomach you anymore, Jungkook.” You spoke in a serious tone, before fixing your things.

“Are you sure about that?” He asked, a smile evident in his voice.

“If you think you need to use those recordings to destroy me, feel free to do so. I won't participate in this any longer. I refuse to be a part of your games, Jungkook.” 

“Oh, Y/N.” He sighs before he continues. “If you think that this is all about you, you’re wrong.” He stood up and took out his phone from his pocket. You’re about to go but he thrust his phone in your chest. “Watch it because you’d love to see what kind of a person your best friend really is.” He smirks and you look at his phone. It was a video and you were scared to play it. The thumbnail is Taehyung standing in front of a man with their eyes blindfolded. Taehyung looks so young in here and you aren’t sure what’s happening. One way to find out. 

You wish you didn’t take his phone. You wish that you just proceed on walking out of your clinic, leaving him inside because when you play the video, you immediately hear a painful scream coming from a man. It wasn’t Taehyung who’s screaming, instead, a man was kneeling and bleeding while his eyes were blindfolded, and Taehyung was hitting him with a baseball bat.

Holy shit. 

Taehyung looks so young in the video. His hair was blonde, it’s his hair when he was 17 or 18, as you remember. You can’t believe what you saw. The man that he’s hitting is begging for him to stop but he doesn't. Instead, he hit him harder. 

Your hands were trembling, almost dropping the phone as you stopped the video from playing. 

What was that?

“Why do you look so scared, Y/N? It’s your best friend.” Jungkook slowly took the phone from your hand. 

Your body trembled uncontrollably, fear had taken hold of your very core. You looked at him, shaking your head.

“That’s not Taehyung.” You said.

“Oh Y/N, I wish you’re right, but it was him.” He chuckled. He takes a few steps back and places his right hand on his pocket as he scrolls to find something on his phone. 

When he finds it, he shows his phone once again. You were confused because it’s a group of male people and when he noticed your confusion, he zoomed the screen and you saw Taehyung in the photo.

“He’s part of underground society way back before he was an artist and that's when I knew him, Y/N. He was one of the people who performed the initiation rites for the new members, and that video you just saw? It’s what he does for the society he’s in.”

You can’t believe it, you refuse to believe it. Taehyung won’t do that. He won’t harm—

“Why do you look so shocked?” He asked with a grin on his face, mocking you. “You should know that, as his best friend.” 

“That’s not him.” You said, trying more to convince yourself. “Taehyung can’t do that. He won't take part in that kind of behavior.”

“Then you don’t really know your friend.” He placed his phone back in his pocket. “Stop being too naive, Y/N. Everyone has their own secrets to keep.” 

“Do you really think that I would believe you? Whatever shit you’re trying to pull, you won’t make me believe you.” You said in your sharp tone.

“But the people will.” He took a step towards you with a smirk on his lips. 

“You may refuse to believe it but the people will. They will believe so easily in whatever’s happening in that video.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, each beat resonating with the intensity of the madness you feel. You never felt this kind of anger before. It’s too much that you wanted to kill him.

“What do you want?! What do you really want!” Your rage erupted like a blazing fire, smacking his chest aggressively. You keep on smacking and pushing him, while he doesn't even show any hint of pain. “Why are you doing this to me!” you shouted, tears welling up in your eyes and when you got tired, your hits became slower until you decided to stop. 

Jungkook held your wrist and looked at your eyes with intensity. You cannot resist him anymore because you’re too tired. 

“What do I want?” He repeated the question while staring at your eyes. “It’s simpler than you think.” His words were soft as a smile formed on his mouth. “I want you, Y/N.” 

You sob before you release your wrist from his grip. “I can’t have another session with you. You’re not cooperating.” You respond, letting out a weary sigh.

“That’s not what I mean.” He shook his head, slowly scanning your face down to your body. “I want you without your clothes, laying down while I am on top of you.”

You immediately shook your head. “No fucking way. I won’t let you do that.” 

“Then you agreed to let me upload your illegal voice recordings with your patients along with the video of your best friend, beating the hell out of an innocent man. I bet the people will love to see what their idol really is, right?”

You’re already bursting out of tears, shaking your head. “Please don’t involve him anymore.” 

“It’s your own fault, Y/N. The only thing that I want is a session with you until I recover, yet you pushed my limits. Now, you have to face the consequences of your actions.” He takes a step towards you, leaning forward to see your face full of tears and wipe them using the both of his finger thumb. You hit his arms and took a step backwards.

“You’re sick.” You turn around to gather your things and when you’re about to leave, he speaks.

“I’m telling you, you don’t want to test me because you wouldn’t like the ending.”

—

That same night, you didn't go home; instead, you went straight to Taehyung's place. He wasn't there because he had a shoot, but you waited. You couldn't wait any longer. You couldn't bring yourself to believe what you had seen unless it came directly from him. You've known Taehyung since birth, and you were certain that the videos and photos you had just seen couldn't be him because you knew he wouldn't do such things.

Yet you don’t understand why you felt betrayed even though you haven’t talked to him.

 When he arrived, that’s the first thing you ask him and it’s too obvious that he didn’t anticipate it. As the longer he can’t respond, the ache you feel worsens.

“Answer me, Kim Taehyung. Are you a member of an underground society?” You repeat the question, emphasizing every word.

“Where did—

“Just answer me!”

Taehyung was taken aback with your screams and a fear is evident in his face. He stood there frozen, unable to move or look away. He sighs before he speaks.

“Yes.”

Your body hunched, eyes closed as a tear streamed down your face. You lowered your body, squatted and your shoulders shook with each shuddering sobs.

“Y/N, w-why?” Taehyung immediately went to you but when his hand landed on your shoulder, you stood up, immediately pushing him away.

“You beat people, Taehyung! You beat them to death, you monster!” 

“Y/N, please let me explain—

“Explain what?! How the fuck you beat them until they die?!”

“It’s not my choice! They were threatening to kill me if I didn’t do what they wanted!”

You glared at him, choosing not to respond. 

“I thought it was a normal organization when I joined but I was tricked! I tried to leave but they didn’t let me and they even threatened to kill me if I reported them to the police! I was just 17 years old at that time, Y/N! I didn’t know what to do!” 

He was trembling as a tear formed in his eyes. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“Because I was scared that they would involve you. It’s a trap.”

“So you were still involved with them?” Your voice raised and he immediately shook his head.

“No! I managed to get away when we were caught doing the initiation rite, but I managed to run away without being caught. I wasn’t the one performing the initiation rite during that time so it was easy for me to run away.” He explained.

You only stare at him, imagining the 17-year-old Taehyung standing in front of you. During that time, you don't remember anything that may hint he was in danger. The only Taehyung you saw was the jolly and energetic Taehyung, not knowing that he was facing a dangerous situation.

Little did you know that 12 years from now, you’d also face the same situation like he does.

You took a step towards him and wrapped your arms around him, sobbing uncontrollably. You can’t imagine he faced that problem all by himself at that age. You were supposed to be with him as he faced his battles, but he was all alone. 

“Why didn’t you tell me even after you managed to run away?” You spoke, choked sobs wracked your body as he stroked your back gently. 

“It’s okay, it’s all in the past.”

You were in that position for a few moments until you calmed down. You break away from him and wipe your own tears. 

“How did you find out?” with that, you’re back from reality, the reason why you are here. 

“I saw a video of you beating a man. That’s how I found out.” His mouth hung open as his breath came in short.

“Where did you watch it?”

"An anonymous sender sent me the video. I couldn't bring myself to save the video because I can't bear to watch it again, so I deleted it," You reason out. You can’t tell him the truth because it will only complicate things more. “But I already reported it to the authorities and a security specialist and they guarantee that the person responsible for it will be caught.”

You felt bad for lying but you can’t tell him the truth. It wasn’t a good idea to confront him about this manner in the first place but you were not in your right mind when you decided to go here. You were caught off-guards. 

You just need to make sure that no one will see that video again. How? That’s also something you don’t know yet. 

—

Jungkook hasn’t bothered you lately, and it only worsens your anxiety. You know him and he won’t simply stop. You don’t know what’s his next move but soon, he’ll come after you. 

You always check what’s trending on social media, watching out for any news that can relate to you and Taehyung, but you’ve always found nothing. You even checked on Jungkook’s latest activities on their media pages and there’s nothing suspicious, yet you can still feel the lash that Jungkook tied on your neck.

You’re on your way for a book interview because your newest book entitled ‘The Paradox of Choice’ is about the launch. You’re nervous and you’re overthinking everything without a specific reason why. 

The feeling you felt right now is different from your previous book launching because right now, you don’t feel good. 

Maybe because you've been stressing lately with what’s happening right now or maybe because something is going to happen.

You wish it wasn’t the latter. 

“Three more minutes!” The crew announced.

This book launch is coming along with an interview at an evening talk show. You’ve experienced guesting in several talk shows yet, you felt so anxious that your trembling worsened as the minute passed by.

“Hey, are you okay?” Your assistant held your hand as you stood up. You looked at her and gave her a smile that didn’t reach your eyes.

“Yes, I am okay.” 

As you get closer towards the stage, your heartbeat increases. You pause for a while and take a deep breath, while closing your eyes. 

You can do this.

“Good evening, Dr. Y/N! How are you doing?” Park Jimin—the host asked you with a wide smile on his face.

“I’m great, how are you?” you try to connect the level of your energy to his. 

“I’m great as well! Are you ready? I know you won’t get too nervous since you have been a guest in several talk shows and interviews, right?” Oh, how you wish that’s your case.

“Of course! I look forward to this!”

You had a few talks with Jimin, explaining how the show will flow and you also reviewed the possible questions that he’s going to ask you. You were starting to get comfortable being on the stage. The rolling is about to start when your eyes land on a familiar figure wearing a black hoodie along with a headphone on his head. Your eyes widened in a complete terror, as your pulse raced with each thudding heartbeat.

Jeon Jungkook is here, staring at you with a demonic smile on his face.

“Rolling! We’ll begin in 3… 2… 1.” He was looking at you while he spoke on his headphones. Your surroundings turned into a blur as you felt that every movement was in slow motion. You notice that Park Jimin is already talking with so much energy and you try to wake yourself up.

“What inspires you to write this book? Was there a particular experience or realization that led to its creation?”

You grip your hand to stop its trembling before you answer. “People tend to choose their biggest life decisions when they are in an emotional state, and this book will teach everyone to always think twice or even thrice whenever they make big decisions for themselves. I, myself once experience choosing a decision that I wish I did not choose, and it lend me to regrets, which I don’t want people to experience that’s why I wrote ‘The Paradox of Choice.’” 

You try not to look at Jungkook after you respond but your own eyes are betraying you. There’s a sly smile on his lips as his eyes bore into you. 

You fucking hate it when his eyes are on you.

“How did you research and gather information for your book? Can you describe your process?” You froze on your seat when Jimin asked you that question. Your hands tremble even more, gripping it tightly to stop. You glance at Jungkook who’s standing meters away from you, playing his lips with his fingers. 

You don’t want to answer this because your method of gathering information for your book is what he obviously uses against you.

‘I record the sessions with my patients and analyze it to add an input to the book.’

It was the answer that you cannot say while he’s watching. 

Instead, “I did my own research with the help of my patient’s own experiences.”

Even in your peripheral view, you could still feel his eyes digging into your soul.

Once the shoot is done, you immediately storm out of the stage and lock yourself inside the comfort room for god knows how long. 

You stood before the sink, hands outstretched beneath the gentle stream of cool water pouring from the faucet as it ran down to your hands. 

You slowly rub both of your hands but the trembling of it isn’t stopping. You rub it even further to steady your hands, until you suddenly outburst silently. You can’t scream or cry, and the only thing you can do is endure the anger you feel right now. 

The soft hum of fluorescent lights filled the space with white glow, opposite of what you feel right now. Your hands are still trembling as you look at your face in the mirror. 

You look so horrible. 

When you’re stressed out because of your workloads, you can still appreciate the beauty you have, but right now, you really look so miserable. 

Jungkook is doing his excellent job in fucking you up. 

This is driving you insane. He’s driving you insane. You’re fed up with all of his shit and it’s too much already. You don’t even know what you did wrong for him to do this to you. The only thing you did is help him cope up with his trauma–or more like fake traumas. 

So you don’t know where you went wrong with him. 

Your assistant called your name on the other side of the door, asking if you’re fine which you’re not. You did your best to calm down before you decided to come out. 

It’s almost midnight when you’ve finished packing your things and ready to leave. Everyone’s out already and you don’t know who was left. You’re supposed to go home an hour ago but you choose to rest for a while before you go. 

The basement parking lot was nearly empty when you arrived; not even the guards were visible. But, as you approached your car, you noticed a tall, muscular man standing beside it, wearing a black hoodie, with both of his hands inside his pockets, clearly waiting for you.

He looked up when he noticed your presence, he stood straight, greeting you with a smirk on his face. 

“What took you so long?” Jungkook asked, a sly smile still on his face. 

“What do you want?” You pondered, glaring at him. 

He scoffed, “You always ask the same question over and over even though you already know the answer.” 

You didn’t respond, ignoring him, as you walked towards the driver’s seat but before you even opened the door, he already blocked you. 

“Don’t ignore me while I’m talking to you.” He threatened, eyes buried on you. 

“I have no more business with you.” You answered, passing by him as you opened the front door. 

“As far as I remember, we still have business going on.” He said, provoking you even more. 

You placed down your things on the passenger seat and before you could even hop on, he spoke.

“You’re brave enough to ignore me now. Why? Do you think I’m already done with you?” His voice dripped with a mocking undertone, a wry smirk played on his lips as he spoke.

“Or you’d be glad to see you and your best friend in the news by tomorrow morning?”

You clenched your jaw, glaring at him as you balled your fist. “I’ve already done what you want. I let you continue our remaining sessions but you go beyond that and pester me for almost 3 times a week! What more do you want?!” 

He tilted his head, licking his lips, trying his best to hide his teasing smile. He clicked his tongue before he spoke. “That's the second time you ask that question. Do you have other questions in mind that you’d like to ask?” 

“When will you ever stop?” He instantly laughed at your question. 

“You didn’t even hide the fact that you already want me out of your life.”

“I never try hiding it.”

“You’re becoming stronger and bolder now, Y/N. Well, I prefer this rather than seeing you crying your ass out begging me to stop. Unless, you’re crying as you scream my name.” He wore a suggestive smirk, provoking you even more.

“You’re sick!”

“You’ve been asking what I want and I’ve already told you, Y/N. I hate it when I keep repeating myself. You’re not stupid, you know that.” He arched a brow, a scornful stare bore into you. 

“And you’re delusional if you think I’d agree with that.”

“Then suit yourself and make sure that you won’t regret your decision.” He smirks, biting his lower lips.

“What are you gonna do?” You asked but when he didn’t answer and turned away, you screamed at him. 

“Jungkook, what the fuck are you going to do?!”

He scoffed before he looked back. “You’ll see.”

—

You want to die.

You just fucking want to die and bring Jungkook along with you.

Your emotions churned like a violent sea, a mix of anxiety, anger and fear that threatened to overturn you. Your heart pounded with rage, and your fingers trembled with fear as you held your phone, trying to avoid dropping it.

A video posted on twitter is playing from your phone, a video that you saw a few days ago.

You felt like throwing up when you saw that video again. Taehyung's face is blurred, but you can tell it's him. People might struggle to identify the person beating up an innocent man, but it won't take long for them to figure it out.

‘I wonder if you guys have any hint of who’s that man on the video? I bet you guys know because you love him so much. But I also wonder if you know your idol’s true color.’

The caption says, and the account is made to specifically attack and throw hate to people.

This could be Jungkook, but you weren't certain because he could have asked others to do it to avoid implicating himself. He has a reputation to maintain as well.

101k views, 5k reposts and 26k likes. 

‘Holy shit. Why do I feel like it’s Beom Seok from Horizon?’

‘This should be taken down.’

‘Eun Dae used to be a member of a fraternity before he become an idol lmaooo’

‘Taehyung was also rumored to be part of a frat before but it hasn't been proven yet.’

Fucking hell. Taehyung must know this shit already and you don’t know what to do. It should be taken down but the video was posted 2 hrs ago and you just saw it right now. Even though it was taken down, people already saved it from their devices.

You were still in the middle of breaking down when your phone rang, and when you saw the caller ID, your blood erupted.

It was Jeon Jungkook. You scream on your phone before you decline the call. You were about to turn your phone off when he sent a message that angered you even more.

‘Decline the call one more time, you will see the video again and I will make sure that the face of Taehyung is visible for everyone to know that it’s him.’

Your hands grew cold and started to shake when your phone rang once again. You had been clenching your teeth before deciding to answer the call.

“How are you, Doc?” He greets you in his sweet voice that only annoys you even more. “Do you think that I wouldn’t do it?” He added, releasing a sarcastic laugh. 

“Take it down, Jungkook.” Your words dripped with menace. 

“You’re the one who made me do it. It’s your fault, Y/N.”

“You monster! Why do you have to involve him?! He didn’t even do anything!” You screamed, pulling your hair out of anger.

“I know but you care for him so much. It’s a natural thing to involve him.”

Your tears run through your cheek as you collapse from the ground. You’re starting to lose your sanity. 

“What do you want?” You spoke in a low voice.

“You want to know? Come here at my place and I will let you know, Y/N.”

—

You’ve expected that Jungkook is living in a high end luxurious apartment building but you didn’t expect that it would be in the highest floor, a penthouse. 

Jungkook noted that he left the door unlocked so you can enter without him opening it for you. You were scared of what could happen inside his penthouse given the fact that he’s a dangerous person by murdering his own mother but you’re desperate to stop him. 

Your heart was pounding when you opened his double-door and as expected, it was unlocked.

You are greeted by a huge area of floor-to-ceiling windows that frame breathtaking panoramic views of the whole city lights. The living room is adorned with designer furniture, a monochromatic symphony of blacks, grays, and whites, and a wall adorned with abstract art that speaks Jungkook's taste.

The place is beautiful, opposite to the person living in here. 

“You came.” You immediately turned around when you heard his demonic voice behind. He’s in the corner of the stairs from the second floor as he slowly steps down, hands in his pocket with a smirk on his lips. 

“Take that video down.” You glared, speaking with your teeth.

“Or else, what? Are you going to report me again? ” He stopped in the middle of the stairs, placing his hands on the railings. He scoffs when you don't respond. “You should know by now that it won’t work, Y/N.” He added, continuing to step down. 

“I’m already here, so tell me what the fuck do you want?” You raised your voice, itching to know what he really wants. 

“Why are you in a hurry, Doc?” He was about to touch your face when you blocked his hands, throwing it away.

“Take that video down, Jungkook.” You spoke, trying to contain yourself. 

He smirks before he turns away and takes a step towards his kitchen island, pouring wine on his wine glass. 

"I've already done that for being such a good and obedient girl." He sips on his wine, not breaking eye contact with you. “But I can upload it again if you choose to test my patience.” He adds. You bite the inside of your lower lips to prevent yourself from attacking him. 

“Why did you even ask me to be here?” 

“Didn’t I tell you before? I want you, Y/N.” 

He poured wine in another glass and walked towards you, handling the wine for you, but you just glanced at it and returned your gaze to him.  

“Let’s not waste time and tell me what the fuck you want so I can leave now.” You said in gritted teeth.

“I already told you, so stop being stubborn and drink this wine before I change my mind and upload the video with your best friend's face clearly visible along with the illegal recordings you had with your patient.” In an instant, he shifted from a playful smirk to a sudden seriousness, dropping the playful facade. 

You take the wine in his hands and he asks you to drink but you immediately shake your head. “I’m not going to let you poison me.”

“If I’m going to do that, I already did when I first walked into your office. It’s easier to kill you than to kill my mother, if that’s what you want to hear.” His words sent shivers down your spine, forcing yourself to sip in the glass as the taste of rich, velvety smoothness of the wine caressed your tongue. He smirks when he is satisfied with your sip. 

“See, you’re still alive.” 

He turned around taking a step forward and telling you to follow him, but when you didn’t, he looked back and his unyielding gaze bore into you. “Are you coming or do you want me to drag you from where you stand right now?”

You swallow hard, trying not to prevent yourself from showing any signs of fear, but it was harder than you thought because you’re in his territory. 

“Are you going to kill me?” Your words come out as a whisper but he was able to hear it and when he does, he grins. 

“Why, are you scared?” He took a sip from his wine, eyes fixed on you. “To answer your question, no, I’m not going to kill you.”

“Then where are you taking me?” 

“We’ll have dinner, now start to move before I drag you to the dining table.”

You indeed had dinner with him and several dishes were served on the long table. By just looking at what is served, you immediately remember that you hadn’t eaten anything yet since morning and everything you see is appetizing. The whole dining room was magnificent. The space was bathed in a war, golden glow of crystal chandelier that hung from a high, ornate ceiling. If you were in a different situation, you’d love to stay here.

Obviously, your life’s on the line and you can’t just eat and relax right now. 

“Don’t you like the food? Why aren’t you eating much?” He asked before he took another bite of his steak.

You’ve tasted what’s in front of you and it was so insanely good, but you can’t eat much by just thinking of what situation you have right now. 

"I'm not hungry," you reasoned out, then sipped your glass of water. You glanced around to see if there was anyone else in the vicinity, but you saw nothing, not even maids or cooks. It was the perfect opportunity for him to kill you, with no one else around except the two of you.

“I doubt. I know that you haven’t eaten anything. Go and enjoy your meal. It won’t harm you.” You only stare at your plate, trying to wash away the negative thoughts you have. You took another bite of your steak and you can’t help but to crave more on how it tastes so good. 

“I could tell that you like the steak, but you’re having a hard time enjoying it. I wonder what’s running through your mind.” He placed both of his elbows on the table and intertwined his fingers. 

“Will you let me go after this meal?” Your question made him chuckled, loud and mocking. 

“Here you go again, so desperate to leave me.” He commented, wiping the corner of his lips with a table napkin. 

“If you just tell me what you’re planning to do, then I wouldn’t keep asking you.” You answered, taking a sip of your water. 

“This is the plan you’re asking about. Didn’t I tell you before that I wanted to take you out for dinner to show my gratitude for being my therapist? That’s what I’m doing right now.” He grabs his wine glass and leans back before he whirl the glass, taking a sip from it.

“That’s it? That’s what you want? To take me out for dinner?” You asked like you can’t believe what he just said. 

“Why, what do you expect?” He placed his elbow on the arm rest and played with his lips; the mannerisms he does when he’s enjoying something. 

“You must be kidding me right now. I know you want something more. I know you, Jungkook. I know you.”

“If you claim to know me so much, then you should know that I am serious with what I want from you.” His eyebrow furrowed, gazing at you with intensity. “That’s the problem with people like you. You think too much and it leads you to danger.” He scoffs.

He stood up from his seat and took a step towards you, while you didn’t move an inch from your position. 

“From the moment I walked into your office, I know from myself that I want you. With your long hair falling back beautifully to the tight black dress you wore, I immediately agreed to take the sessions with you.” He stood beside you from your seat, resting his hands on the backrest of your chair while you were there, completely frozen. 

“Hoseok and my lawyer Namjoon told me that I should act like the incident causes me trauma to prevent them from suspecting me to be the culprit. I did not agree because it’s bullshit but they keep on convincing me.” He chuckled as he remembered something. “I planned on attending a single session and I won’t show up again but when I saw you sitting on your office chair with a bright smile on your pretty face, I thought that attending sessions with you won’t be that bad after all.”

He caresses your hair and you try not to flinch, clenching your jaw. 

“I do enjoy the sessions we had because you’re so entertaining to watch. You talked as if you know everything but the truth is, you don’t. I just let you think that way because you’re so passionate about what you do. I don’t want to ruin your ego, Doc.” 

He kept on caressing your hair and when you couldn't take it anymore, you stood up, facing him with anger on your face. 

“I’m done with my meal. I’m going home.” You gazed at him with a piercing stare, picking up your things. 

“You think I will let you leave just like that?” An ominous aura surrounded him when `he spoke. You’re trying to strengthen yourself as you take a step towards the door, but before you even made it, he spoke again. “Get back here, Y/N.” He threatened. 

“Stop playing with me, Jungkook.” 

“Try to take another step and I will make sure that before this night ends, your career is over as well as your best friend’s. You know that I can do it, Y/N. You wouldn’t like to test me again.” A cold, sinister flowed from his voice.

You didn’t dare take another step, afraid of provoking him even more. You hate that he can control you with just the use of his words. You still have the lash on your neck, making him take control over you. 

“That’s right, be the good girl that you are, Y/N.” He said, with a smirk on his lips. He placed his hands inside his pocket as he slowly walked towards you. “I don’t understand why you keep giving me that kind of behavior but you can’t stand by it.” He towered over you and he tried to touch your cheek but before he even did it, you avoided his touch and took a step backward.

He smirks, staring at you before he speaks again. “Even if you try to avoid me, I will still find my way to you, Y/N. If I were you, I wouldn't waste my time doing that.” He walks back to the long table and grabs his wine glass and takes a sip on it without leaving his eyes on you. 

You didn’t move nor say anything, observing his movements. You’re at his territory and you couldn’t risk provoking him because he can do anything to you without the people knowing what’s happening inside his penthouse.

He grabbed the new bottle of wine and opened it, filling up your wine glass, walking towards you, and handling you the glass. You only stare at it and Jungkook gestures to you to take it. 

“Hurry up and get it, Y/N. My arms are starting to numb.” He said and you are left without a choice, so you take the wine from his hands. “Go drink it.”

You look at the wine glass and there are a few bubbles underneath it and you swallow hard before you take a sip from it. 

“Finish it up, Y/N. Don’t make me tell you everything you have to do.”

You wanted to cry but you didn’t let your guards down. You’re starting to regret going here. 

You chug the wine while your hands are trembling and he smiles after you finish it. 

“That’s right, you’re such a good girl.” He took the glass from you and placed it back on the table. 

After a few moments, your heartbeat increases rapidly and your whole body starts to tremble. Jungkook was just looking at you as he enjoyed his wine and you suddenly felt so weak, your head started to ache.

There is something wrong with the wine.

You take a deep breath, fighting the weakness within you. You wouldn’t want to show that you’re getting weak in front of him. You walk back to your seat and grab your things before looking at him.

“I really have to go. I have a lot of things to do.” You spoke in your low voice, being careful of your actions.

Jungkook pouted in a sarcastic way. “There’s no way I’m letting you go.” he answered before he smirked. Your headache worsened but you didn’t show any signs of your weakness.

He walked towards you and you admit that you’re getting scared of what he might do. You step back but there is no more space because the table is already bumping your back. He raised his hand to touch your face once again but you blocked his touch.

And in a snap of a finger, he aggressively grabbed your face using only a single hand and his eyes suddenly filled with darkness. “Stop resisting me, Y/N. You can’t win over me.” He spoke in a low but sinister tone. 

Your limbs trembled uncontrollably, unable to withstand the weight of your fear. After a few seconds of staring at your soul with so much intensity, he already released his firm hold on your face but he didn’t move away. Instead, he slowly traces your face with his fingers.

Your weakness worsens and you can’t move nor think anymore. The only thing you can do is let him touch you.

“I love it so much when the cause of your weakness is me.” 

Your eyes widen as you gasp silently when his lips crushes on you. It was hard and you tried to move away but he gripped your arm, unabling you to move. You were trying to push him but because of your weakness, it didn’t even move an inch. 

“Open your mouth, baby girl.” He commands as he speaks in between his kisses. 

“Jungkook s-stop—

“I told you not to fight me.”

His lips went down on your neck sucking your skin and you used all your strength to push him away but he was too strong. He locked your hand on the table as he shifted his kiss on your lips and neck. Your body is shaking and tears are now flowing from your cheek and when he notices it, he stops, staring at you without removing his grip on your hand from the table.

“If you keep being difficult, I fucking swear that you wouldn’t make it out alive and I will make sure that your bestfriend will fall on the ground so hard that he can never recover.” He whispers in your ear, making you stand frozen with a pounding heart. 

You were too weak to fight and you’re sure that it’s not only because he’s dangerous but there is something in the wine you just drank. 

He stares at your face, like memorizing every feature of it. He lifts his hand, slowly wiping your tears away. He traces your face before he moves closer to peck your forehead. His lips were soft on your skin, but it only sent shivers down your spine.

“You don’t have to be scared because I will bring heaven to you.” He whispers before he sucks your ear lobe. 

He held your waist while kissing you, pushing his tongue inside. His lips were so soft and you could taste the bittersweet of the wine he just drank a few moments ago. His hands were traveling around your body while his lips were still on yours. You wanted to push him and run away but you know that you couldn’t do that because before you even reach his gigantic door, you’re probably dead. 

“Do you know how much I crave for you, huh?” He tried to speak in his desperate kisses as his breath became heavier. “From the first time I step in your office, you never leave my head. You fucking drive me insane.”

He lifted you up to the table as his kisses became aggressive and you were just there, being helpless. 

He cupped the back of your neck as he sucked it leaving a bruise before his hands traveled down to your thighs and caressed them. His hands were burning through your skin and you deny that your body starts to burn as well. He lifts you up and your thighs are in between his body carrying you to an unfamiliar room and the next thing you know, you’re already laying down on a bed. 

Your back slowly touched the soft mattress as he started to crawl on the top of you. Your body is trembling and your heart is beating so fast as he brushes your face with the back of his fingers. 

“This is what I really want, Y/N. Me on the top of you.” The room is dark but you could still see the glimpse of his face with how the moon illuminated the darkness of the room. He gently strokes your face down to your neck, until it reaches your chest. He leans forward and places his ears on your chest, listening to your pounding heartbeat. “Just by listening to your heartbeat is enough for me to get turned on.” He whispers in your ears before he brushes his lips to your neck, immediately feelings his hot and wet breaths. 

Your breath rose when you felt his fingers crawling underneath your shirt, fingers wandering at your bare skin. You suddenly flinch when his fingers rub your breast, making him smirk. “You like it when I touch you like this?” He asked in his low and seductive voice, and when you didn’t respond, his fingers circles your nipples slowly causing you to moan. 

You’re wearing a dress and he slowly lifts the end of it, completely taking your dress off and when he did, he gave a peck on your breast before removing your bra. A sudden sense of unwanted pleasure filled your body as he sucked your left breast while massaging the other one, leaving a tingle on your stomach. It didn’t take long before his lips connected on yours, slipping his tongue, letting out another moan. He moves his mouth down to your neck once again, sucking it while his other hand is trailing down your back.

His fingers travel down on the waistband of your underwear, leaving soft kisses. “I’ve always wondered how your bare body looks, and it’s exactly how I imagine. So sexy and gorgeous.” He played with the waistband of your underwear before he slowly pulled it down, leaving you gasping. 

You’re at the verge of crying when he spreads your legs apart, exposing your bare pussy, leaning down and leaving a kiss on your pelvic bone. You tried to push your body deeper in the mattress to avoid his kisses, but he only grips your hips firmly to prevent yourself from moving. “Stop fighting, Y/N.” He said with a stone voice. 

He leaves a last peck on your pelvic bone, moving down on your clit before he kisses it, leaving you panting. You resist yourself from whimpering but when he slides a tongue on your clit, you groan. You were fighting the pleasure that you felt, but the more he keeps on licking your folds, the more your body burns.

"Fuck baby, you taste just like how I imagined it. So sweet for me."

You were disgusted at yourself for feeling something so good, and disgusted at him for doing this to you. 

“You act like you don’t like what you feel, but with how wet you are, it only proves how you love this so much.” He said—almost sounds like a whimper. Your eyes widened when you felt his fingers circling your clit before he slowly inserted it inside. You moan so loud when he moves his fingers as he licks your clit and you cry with the burning sensation radiating to you. 

You weren’t a virgin and you’ve hooked up several times, yet you can’t admit it to yourself that he was doing good eating you out. 

“No matter how you say that you hate me, your body will never lie.” He whispers, as he drag his finger inside and out in a quicker motion. 

No matter how you stop yourself from moaning, that sound escapes your mouth. 

Pain leaves you when he pulls his fingers and when you look at him, he removes his shirt revealing his chiseled and sculpted body. He leans forward to slide his fingers inside your mouth, letting you taste yourself before he slides his tongue. A moan escaped you when he rubbed his fingers on your clit, feeling your wetness, before he inserted his finger once again. 

You’re trying your best not to let out another moan but your body is betraying you because you were moaning in between his lips that you could feel his smirk. 

“Don’t be hard on yourself and let yourself enjoy it, baby girl.”

After a few moments of him fucking your pussy with his fingers, your whimper as you reached your orgasm. You shred a tear when you realize how your own body betrays you. 

He withdraws his fingers as he continues to suck your neck while his hands are circling to your waist down to your hips and grinding his body on you. He then pulls himself to take off the pants that he’s wearing as your body starts to tremble.

You stare at his movements as he pulls down his pants and you gasp when he pulls it down, completely exposing dick. 

His huge, holy shit.

He strokes it and it arouses you even more. You hate yourself right now more than you hate him because you can’t believe that you’re craving it. 

“Please Jungkook, don’t.” Your voice quivered with desperate pleading.

“Stop acting that you’re not enjoying it because your body says otherwise.” He scoffs before he kneels in between your body and pumps his dick, gripping it tightly.

“Spread your legs for me, baby girl.” He commands as he parts your legs. Your eyes widen when you feel that he’s rubbing his dick on your folds as your wetness overflows and a moan is released on your lips. 

“That’s right, moan for me.” He said, almost sound like a whimper teasing you even more and it didn’t take long when he slid his dick inside you making your nails buried on his back. 

“Fuck Y/N, you’re so tight!” He moaned as he went deeper. He placed his hand on your back and a pain filled you when he dug deeper. He was sucking your neck as he kept thrusting in and out. You were pulling his hair, as he groaned on every thrust he made. He stops from time to time to suck your nipples and kiss your lips, making you moan continuously. 

"You're taking me so well, fuck. That's right, take me so well."

You’re starting to cry with the unwanted pleasure you feel but Jungkook only kisses your tears away. And with a hard thrust, you’re about to come. Your breath comes out heavily as you keep on whimpering with every thrust he does. Jungkook curses, his thrust becomes harder and you start to tremble.

“Yes baby, cum all over me and show me how much you enjoyed this.” His words almost sound like a whimper and it only motivates you to reach your second orgasm. 

And when you did, you cried louder as he thrust harder and deeper for the last time. 

—

You were lying on his bed without your clothes, while he was beside you, sleeping peacefully as if he hadn't disrespected you an hour ago. His bed was the softest and most comfortable you had ever experienced, its softness enveloping your body in a gentle embrace. However, all you could feel was disgust and anger at what he had done to you.

 You should be running right now but your body froze and you can’t move them even an inch. It happened three times in a row, and you've been begging him to stop, but he doesn't listen, as if he were possessed by a devil. He's already a monster himself, but you didn't anticipate him forcing you to comply. Most especially, you loathe yourself because your body responds to his desires, leading him to believe that you genuinely enjoy what he's doing, but in reality, you're horrified.

The room is dark, and the moon casts its enchanting glow upon it. You're gazing at the full glass window, where the distant city lights flicker in the distance. An emotional numbness envelopes you, leaving you unstable and broken.

You slowly turn towards the person beside you, and as expected, he's asleep. You can't believe how different he appears when he's sleeping, nothing like the person you know. Instead, he resembles a man who wouldn't harm a soul when his eyes are closed. However, the burning anger you feel hasn't subsided. You can never forget what he has done to you. 

The anger surged within you and you wanted to lash out, to make him feel the same pain he has caused you. You clenched your fist and the thought of killing him gnawed at the edges of your sanity. 

You looked around to find something to protect yourself from him. Slowly, you raised yourself from lying down, careful not to make any movements that might wake him up. With trembling hands, you reach your dress from the floor and put it on before scanning the room.

You've been here for quite some time, but this is the first occasion you've had to observe his entire room. As expected, his room is quite spacious, yet you can't discern the color of the walls as darkness covers the entire space. Your eyes catch a glimpse of a chest of drawers in the corner of the room, and above it, there are photographs adorning the wall. As you take a step closer, your heart rate quickens upon seeing the photos that are affixed to the wall.

The room might be dark but it’s evident that the polaroid photos on the wall are you. There are a lot of photos of you and they are a mix of a photo from your social media accounts and a photo that he took without you noticing it. 

He’s been stalking you for a quite long time already. 

A memory comes back when you’ve felt that someone is looking at you or when you’ve felt like he’s around and you brush it all away believing that you were wrong but it all makes sense because he’s been stalking you and you don’t have any idea of it. 

Your trembling hands worsened as your jaw clenched, turning around with your eyes glared at his sleeping figure.

Your anger consumes you, and with every fiber of your being, a raw, primal fury pulses, urging you to harm him. As your rage intensifies, a dark abyss opens in your mind, and your thoughts race. You take a step toward the bed where he's lying down as your heart thunders in your chest.

‘You fucking monster.’

Even if there isn’t enough light, you still manage to look around to find something. You returned to the chest drawer opening it and you gasped as you saw more photos inside. You didn’t try to look at them one by one focusing on finding something.

‘I will fucking kill you’

From the drawer, you walked around and opened every cabinet inside his room to find something you’re looking for and when you did, your body suddenly froze. 

A gun.

With your heavy breaths and trembling hand, you took it out from the drawer and took a moment to stare at it. 

But before you’ve processed everything, you heard a voice speak.

“My little Y/N, what do you think you’re doing?” 

You immediately stood up, turned around, and saw Jungkook standing 7 feet away from you. The room was so dark that you couldn't see his face, but you could make out his silhouette. He was wearing pants but nothing on top.

You pointed the gun at him but he only laughed it out. Your entire body froze as you pointed the gun firmly on him and your heartbeat echoed loudly on your ears. Your breath came short, as if your lungs were struggling to keep up with your racing thoughts.

He walked slowly toward the bedside table and switched on the lamp, causing the room to fill with a warm glow. It wasn't very bright, but it was enough for both of you to see each other.

He grins as he sees that you stepped back, holding the gun firmer when he took a step towards you. 

You’re shaking so bad but you can’t hold your guards down because anything can happen in just a matter of seconds. 

“What, you’re gonna shoot me after I satisfy you?” He said with a grin on his lips. 

“I’m going to kill you.” Your voice is low but every word you say is sharp enough to show that you’re serious but he only scoffed at your words.

“Really, you’re going to do that?” His voice was seductive, provoking you even more. 

You try to find any signs of fear on his face but you find nothing. Instead, it only worsens your emotions. You weren’t sure if the gun that you’re holding is loaded and you only pray that it does. 

It’s your first time holding a gun and you don't have any idea of how to use it but your life is in danger and you have to act accordingly. 

You cocked the gun and pointed it out at him once again. 

“Do you even know how to use that?” He pouted as if he cares but it was full of mockery and sarcasm. 

“Don’t come near me.” You whispered as you held the gun firmly.

“Come on Y/N, don’t embarrass yourself.” He took a step back and sat at the edge of the bed, while his eyes were on you. “We both know that you aren't capable of doing that. Didn’t I satisfy you enough?” 

“Shut up.”

“As far as I remember, you love it so much when I eat you out. Did I think that wrong?” He rested his hand on the mattress behind him. “I love every reaction that you make when you feel so good. I love it when you dig your nails on my skin because you can’t contain the stimulation. And by how you feel so weak with my touch and kiss–

“Shut the fuck up!”

Your heart raced, your body trembled and a cold sweat broke out on your forehead. your thoughts worsen into chaos and an overwhelming dread washed over you. You can’t take the words he said. You just wanted him to shut up.

He stares at you with so much intensity, like he can see through your soul. “You should’ve checked if the gun was loaded, babe.” He commented shifting his gaze to the gun you’re holding. 

You shook your head as you pressed your lips firmly. “You monster. I’m going to fucking kill you.”

“Then kill me,” He spoke in his low voice. “Shoot me, Y/N.” He slowly stands up and walks towards you, making you step backwards. You panicked even more but you tried your best to stay still and point the gun towards him. 

“Show me how brave you are, Dr. Y/N.” Your back bumps into the cabinet behind you when there is no more space for you to step back as you were shaking so badly and you can no longer hold your tears. He pressed his chest on the muzzle of the gun while looking at you with so much intensity. 

In the blink of an eye, he firmly grabs your arm, attempting to wrest the gun from your grip, but you hold it even more tightly. You push him using your elbow, but he chokes you, and you tremble in pain. He's strong, but your determination is unwavering, and you won't lose to him this time.

You step forcefully onto his right foot, and when he shows his weakness, you swiftly break free from his grasp. However, he manages to trip you, causing you to fall and drop the gun.

You immediately crawl to get the gun but he pulled your leg away from it. 

“You can never escape me, Y/N!” He spoke as his hands circled around your neck. 

Your eyes were starting to blur, preventing you from seeing anything for a few moments. A sense of helplessness washed over you until your eyes caught the gun a few inches away from you. He was focused on choking you to death while you’re focused on reaching the gun. Desperation clouded your thoughts, urging you to stay stronger and when you finally reached the gun, you immediately pulled the trigger in his direction. 

You stood up when he released you, as a searing pain tore through his body upon being struck by the bullet, leaving him gasping for breath. You held the gun firmly while he endured the pain in his rib that had been hit by a bullet.

You cocked the gun one more time and pointed at him. 

You panted heavily as a panic gripped you, the inability to catch your breath adding to the rising sense of fear. He clenched his jaw, forcing himself not to let a sound escape his lips. 

He pressed his hand on his rib, looking at you with the same eyes that you despise so much. Despite being shot, he can still manage to look at you with mockery. 

"Do you believe that after what you've done, you have already… won?" He smirks as he slowly falls on the ground, enduring his physical pain. “I was in your position months ago. Holding a… gun as I shoot my mother. How ironic that the person… who tried to heal me was also the person… who would try to kill me.” He felt an agonizing, relentless throbbing at the site of the gunshot trying to ease the pain. He tried to stand up before he continued. “You’ve said a lot of times that my actions are… bad but look at you right now… Doing the same… thing.” 

“We’re not the same!” You shouted, holding the gun with your two hands. “You ruin my life, you monster!” You felt a seething rage, a burning intensity that threatened to overtake you. 

He only smirks at your response. “Really? Because last time I checked… I shoot my mother for being the monster that she is.” 

“Don’t you dare compare yourself to me!” Your fingers were trembling, itching to pull the trigger. 

“You might keep on denying it but we both know the truth.” Even in his situation, he can still play with a sinister smile on his lips. 

“You’re fucking wrong—

“Come on, Y/N! Look at you!” His eyes blazed with fiery, smirking at you as he cut you off. “You’re just like me! We’re really meant to be!” You are consumed by fury, your thoughts a turbulent storm of anger as his sinister laugh triggers you even more. Your heart pounded in your chest, tears streaming down your cheek and without you noticing it, you’re shooting him continuously.

“Fuck you! Motherfucker!” 

You continue to curse and pull the trigger even though he's already lying on the ground. Your anger blinds you to the point where you can no longer process your actions.

“I’m not like you! I’m fucking not like you!” You screamed along with every shot you made. Your heart pounded on your chest, as your words dripped with outrage. The only time you stop is when the gun is out of bullets. 

The room was surrounded by blood as you observed his lifeless body lying on the ground. You couldn't recall how many times you had shot him, but judging by the considerable amount of blood scattered about, it was evident that you had shot him numerous times.

Your vision swam before you, blurring the edges of reality as the world around you seemed to spin. You glance at the gun you’re holding and you immediately drop it off. Your whole body trembled uncontrollably, making you collapse on the floor. 

Blood. There’s a lot of blood.

The surroundings fell into an eerie silence and a chill ran down your spine. You're suddenly suffocated by fear as you crawl backward.

He’s dead. I killed him.

The only thing that you hear is the ticking sound of the clock and nothing else. You slowly look around but the only thing you see is blood. 

“But look at you right now, doing the same thing.”

“You’re just like me! We’re really meant to be!”

You covered your ears as you heard him. He was dead but you can still hear his sinister voice. 

“You can never escape me, Y/N!”

“STOP!”

—

The horizon blazed with a rich, golden hue as the sun's first rays pierced the darkness. Birds whistled as the day began. The air, now filled with the promise of warmth and life and with each passing moment, the sky emerged from its darkness.

Yet the horror you’ve made is still there. 

You’re under the glass window, watching the world to start its day. The room is still covered in blood–your body is still covered in blood. The sun has risen yet you wanted to stay in the dark. You don’t know what to do anymore. 

You suddenly heard the ringtone of your phone, making you feel more vulnerable. You covered your ears to prevent yourself from hearing it yet the sound seems to hunt you. 

After the call dies, you thought that it won’t ring again but before you can even have a peace of mind, it rang once again. 

Your legs tremble when you stand up. You do your best not to look at the corpse laying on the ground as you walk out of the room. 

His living room is exactly how it looked the last time you saw it. You look around to see any living thing but you sense nothing. Your phone is still ringing when you spot it on the top of the dining table where you ate last night. 

Where he forced you to drink a wine that made you weak. 

Tears welled up in your eyes when you saw the caller’s ID. 

It was your best friend.

It was Taehyung. 

“Thank god you answered! Where the hell are you?! I’ve been calling you since last night but you aren’t answering! You’re gonna kill me for worrying to you!”

Hearing his voice broke you down. Your tears flowed continuously as an uncontrollable emotion poured out on you. 

“Y/N, what happened? Why are you crying?” A deep concern is evident in his voice. 

You were shaking, crying with broken sobs as you covered your mouth in an attempt to calm down.

“Y/N! Speak up! What’s wrong?!”

“Tae… Please help me.” You attempt to speak. 

“Where are you? I’m going there.”

“Taehyung.”

“Y/N, what happened?”

“I made a grave sin.” 

“What?”

Your wailing sobs echoed through the whole area as you fell on your knees. He keeps asking what happened but you’re having a hard time admitting it. 

“Y/N, how am I going to help you if you can’t tell me?”

After a few moments, you started to calm down. Your sobs gradually subsided, a quiet hiccup escaped you as you closed your eyes briefly.

“I killed a man.” The words escape your lips and a new set of tears forms on your eyes. 

You never thought that you would resort to killing him. Out of all the things that happened, you wanted to end everything without harming anyone. You’re a well-known psychiatrist who has an advocacy that despite of who you are and what you’ve become, your mental health matters. 

You know yourself well. You know your strengths and weaknesses, and the cause of your happiness and sadness. But that’s what you thought. 

You can’t control your emotions. 

No matter how you try, you will always have a hard time controlling it.

There are a lot of reasons why people act without thinking when they are emotional. According to a study, physiologically, emotions can activate the body's fight-or-flight response. When emotions trigger this response, stress hormones like adrenaline flood the system, preparing the body to respond to perceived threats. This physiological reaction can reduce the ability to think clearly and may lead to impulsive actions.

“Where are you?” After a long pause, Taehyung finally spoke. 

“At Jeon Jungkook’s place. One of my patients.” You respond in a low voice. 

“Message me the exact address and I’ll be right there.”

You weren’t in your right mind when you pulled the trigger. You didn’t like what happened. 

Therefore, you weren’t just like him. 

It was his fault, after all.

-end-

a/n: finally, it's complete! Thank you so much for joining me in writing this JK fic. It's my first time delving into the thriller genre, and I've truly enjoyed the experience. I also hope that you all enjoy reading it as well. Have a great day, everyone!

taglist: @idkjustlovingbts @koohrs @minshookie29 @aajjks @softie00 @exquisite-bands @kingofbodyrolls @floralflowexs @oopscoop @yoonjinhusbands @ash07128 @kookiesbunny @cinnikoi @yluv-damara-13 @hoseoksluv89 @darkuni63 @iloverubberduckiez-blog @fangirl-death-rose @looneybleus

[local-lamppost]

Something I've Been Reminded Of

Spoilers for Ch 86

Kicking off season 2 of Spy x Family we have the long awaited date of Loid and Yor-which was just lovely-and in that we got this line from Loid:

Of course, this is just him drastically missing the actual cause of Yor's poor mood, but Agent Twilight believes that he has made Yor cross with him for asking for help running the household. This is a marriage of convenience after all, not an actual partnership.

While it's never made the forefront of a scene, at least not in an overtly plot heavy way, Loid is often shown doing the majority of the house work. He cooks, cleans, helps Anya study, cares for Bond, etc. He'll even make sure that dinner is ready for Yor when she comes home late. Not to say Yor doesn't do anything, she's often shown preparing drinks and will help clean up now and then, but the implication is that Loid does 90% of the chores along with raising Anya, caring for Bond, his work as a fake psychiatrist, his work as an actual spy, along with whatever day trips/misadventures the family gets up to.

But he will not ask for Yor's help, because this whole thing is a marriage of connivence; it's 'for the mission'.

Then we get chapter 86. Twilight is hurt from a gun fight with his brother-in-law, has just faced a representation of his worst traits in Winston, and gotten into a "fight" with Yor which he has no idea the cause of. Loid has officially been pushed to the limit and the moment he gets home-the moment he feels safe-the sight of Yor smiling through the threshold causes him to collapse and ask:

And Yor:

Which shocks Twilight. He is at his lowest point and is expecting for Yor to actually get upset with him, under the impression that she'll see his need for help as a burden.

Yor has always been eager to help Loid, but never wanted to overstep this unspoken boundary they have. She isn't his actual wife, not actually Anya's birth mother. She's there to keep up appearances, it's not her place to be a wife helping her husband. She will still hesitate around Anya for actions that are unavoidably motherly. It's not her place, Loid is handling it even if he's struggling.

Which is why Yor is glad to be asked for help.

How many characters both acknowledge Twilight needs help and actually offer help? Let alone with no ulterior motives. WISE is under the impression that everything they ask is within Twilight's capabilities and even Franky, the only person in his life who could be considered a friend, needs to maintain a certain distance as to not arouse suspicion for either of them.

Yor's position as mother for the Forger family has granted her both the closeness needed to see how ragged Loid's been run, but also be in a position to offer help that can be reciprocated. The only thing holding her back has been Loid not asking for assistance and her being to worried for her position in the family to ask.

And now that Loid has reached out, Yor will do all she can to ease his burdens. Even with Twilight resolving to be better, to be the perfect spy he's been slipping from, I don't think Yor's going to let him go back to bad habits. He needs help, he's asked for help, she's going to help.

Yor is going to aggressively care for Loid, and through shenanigins break down those barriers of his.

[maximumkillshot]

I Can't Lose You-Part 12

Warnings: Tooth Rotting Fluff, mentions of doctors appointments, that's it!

Pairing: BangChan x Reader

Characters: All the boys except Chan, although Chan is mentioned, Reader

A/N: The reader needs a break!!! So here we are. This one is fluffy, it feels good to me. I hope you guys like it! Also, I am pretty sure I had two seizures in the last two days (At least). Thank you to everyone for being so patient. I will try to resume my Friday schedule. Thank you so much for your understanding and well wishes!!

ALL WORK IS UNDER ME AND MY BLOG. DO NOT TRY TO REPUBLISH OR STEAL MY WORK, AS THAT IS COPYRIGHTED UNDER ME AND IS CONSIDERED COPYRIGHT INFRINGEMENT WHICH IS A PUNISHABLE OFFENSE. 

ANY WORK THAT YOU SEE ON OTHER SITES THAT ARE MY WORKS PLEASE NOTIFY ME IMMEDIATELY.

I Can't Lose You Masterlist-CLICK HERE

Stray Kids Masterlist-CLICK HERE

Bin POV:

“Everyone ready to go?” I asked. Early in the morning the psychiatrist came in to talk to Y/N. They asked me to come in for a few seconds with Han. They let us know that they really didn’t want her anywhere near the house and to stay with at least Han and I, but it was preferable for most if not all of us to be there for at least the first week. The trauma tied to the 3 Racha house is just too much at this point, the doctors were also worried about Chan making the recovery even worse than it already is. Y/N agreed wholeheartedly and with that she was given follow up appointments. Finally the latest blood tests came just before lunch and she was given a clean bill of health and an outpatient appointment for her OBGYN. Felix, Minho, I.N., and Hyunjin all went to the DanceRacha house to start prepping for us to head there. Felix texted me that he had a few surprises for her which made me smile, she needs a good surprise right about now. 

I’m still worried about Y/N. The DanceRacha dorms are a good option, but I know that for me, I still have memories tied to Chris there. I’m wondering if that is exactly what she is thinking. I can’t help but worry about it. “Remember the deal with the doctors is for you to be away from that house and with your support system. Are you sure you don’t want a place of your own? I want you to be comfortable as you heal.” 

“I don’t have the money for that,” Y/N smiled at me. It was a reassuring one, as if she could read my mind. She and I always had this connection. Whenever I was feeling down she would pop in to see how I was doing. 

I remember one time, it was maybe 3am and I was working on lyrics. They were risky, going double the speed of the song's beat, the technique is called ‘double time’ in rapping. Fast spitting rappers do it all the time, think Eminem and Busta Rhymes. It was my first time attempting it and I contemplated each and every syllable like a landmine. Writing it wasn't the issue, it was being able to deliver it while dancing. Those syllables take up a lot of air, not to mention the brutality that comes with dancing and singing at the same time. Our steps aren't insanely difficult, but they definitely take up oxygen like no one's business. So I'd get up, do push ups, jumping jacks, burpees, anything to get my heart rate up to about what it would be when performing, then I'd try to deliver the lines. Doing this is always painful, your body is screaming at you to stop talking, hunch over, and gasp for air. Obviously, we can't do that, so we try our hardest to build endurance. Some are like Chan, who sing while doing cardio (which is insane, by the way, I felt like I was dying when I tried it), some are like LeeKnow, packing on layer after layer of heavy clothing before and during dance practice, forcing the body to exert itself so much that when all of those layers are off, each movement and breath is a breeze (also insanity to do. It feels like working out in a sauna with a weighted, heated blanket on you). Me? I brute forced it. 

Anyway, Y/N noticed that I was really getting obsessed with these lyrics and doing them so that I was as close to the line of unhuman speed crossed with physical activity as possible. I'm the fastest rapper in the 4th generation and I wanted to show why I was. Y/N came into my room and said,“Binnie, you need to trust yourself. You know what's best, you have the best instincts I've ever seen. Remember, if you're about to dive in a pool, don't think about the height of the diving board, clear your mind, and jump in. Don't think, just do.” 

Even now, through all of this, you would think that a bond like that would be weakened, seeing her like that would make some pull away. It just brought me closer. I am in awe of her. The sheer will to live. The tenacity. The beauty in her broken parts know no bounds. It reminds me of ruins from ancient civilizations. Seeing the beauty in what was, and marveling at what is left. Only the strongest parts are left, the essence of that civilization. She is beyond anyone I've ever seen. Her capacity to love is beyond comprehension. 

That's why I am so happy to know her. To really know her. To be the person she reaches for, to ground herself. She trusts me to be there. And I will be. Simply because it’s an honor to love her. Money isn't an object for her. 

“Money isn’t a problem, would you like to be in a place of your own?” I asked again. I would spend my whole paycheck on her if I had the chance. She deserves to be spoiled.

“I still want to be at the other dorm, it’s familiar. For some reason I feel safe there. Is that okay?” She asked, looking at Seungmin. Little did she know that we had been talking about this for a bit before she woke up. We knew that pushing this topic on her would be too much, but at the same time, from what Seungmin told me, the doctors were never going to release her to the same house that Chris is in.

Seungmin chuckled, “Birdie, it’s not a problem, you have never not been welcome at my dorm, you know this,” he deadpanned. It is true…all of the boys over that house would get so excited as soon as they heard Y/N was coming over. They’d want to spend the entirety of the visit with her, a lot of the time they would start to pout if they felt she wasn't spending enough time with them. So when the idea came up their eyes lit up. Anywhere she goes, I'm not going anywhere. 

“Okay then it’s settled.” I smiled at her, combing a stray strand out of her face. I’m happy that she’s finally getting out of here. She has been through so much in such a short amount of time. She needs to be left alone. I am scared for her. I want her to be safe, and worries keep on popping in my head. How do I protect her? What if saesangs get a whiff that something is wrong? What if the company tried to force her to stay with Chris? What if she takes him back? That part hurt. Seeing how badly she was hurt simply because he was being an asshole. Simply because he treated a diamond like sand on a decrepit shore. The thought made me shake with rage as I looked at the woman in front of me, she looked at me with furrowed brows, that brought me back to her.

Y/N looked into my eyes at that moment, like she was tapped into my brain. She gave my hand a squeeze as she said, “Binnie? What's wrong, talk to me…” she shyly played with my fingers. Her touch was feather light given the bruises that formed on my knuckles. I wanted to tell her the truth about them. My impulse to be honest, making the words bubble in my throat. Right behind the truth of what I'm feeling.

I wanted to tell her I love you, I wanted to tell you for so long. The minute I met you I fell for you, your soft voice, your booming laugh, your corny jokes. All of it. Not just the you before but the you now. I know life is going to be hard for you, I want to be there. I want to stand next to you and catch you whenever you need to collapse. I will give you everything I have. You deserve to know what real love is. I know Chris isn't good for you. You don't need this pain, this heartache, you don't deserve to be treated like an option. You are the one and only person I ever loved and will continue to love for the rest of my life. I want you to be happy, and if it's not with me that's okay. I just want you to know that he isn't the only option. I am just one person, I am sure thousands of men would line up and down city blocks just to see you, let alone have a chance with you. Instead I said “ just thinking.”

There is a time and a place for everything. Telling her right now could confuse her more, make her feel like I just want something from her. That couldn't be farther from the truth. The only thing I want is for her to be happy. The fact that she has been used like this and thrown to the side, expected to all of a sudden tolerate the people that did that to her. 

I saw the opportunity to draw attention away and I took it as I said “Seungmin, you have everything?” “Yeah, we should be ready to go soon,” he said as he kept packing all of the random hoodies that were used as pillows when we stood overnight with her. It's been years since most of us slept in the same room as the others. Every few hours a nurse would come in to check on Y/N, sometimes startling her. Everytime that happened Seungmin and I would wake up. We aren't light sleepers in particular, but it was more reflexive than anything. The nurse would quietly remind her that she's safe and all of her boys are with her. No one is going to hurt or sneak up on her. It'd still take a little time for her to go back to bed. Seungmin and I would refuse to even close our eyes until her heart rate went back to resting and her body would be completely relaxed and limp. 

Now that things are starting to simmer down I am wondering why Seungmin had this reaction. He's been very strong through it all and he is even going against his nature of just observing. I am wondering what it is that I don't know. I just want to be filled in. Seungmin isn't known for physical affection, instead opting for annoying people he loves until they inevitably get closer to the edge of insanity. It's an odd way to show love, but Seungmin has never been known for traditional methods. 

So why is it that he’s calling her pet names and smiling at her that way? Did he always smile at her like that? It’s so comforting, almost endearing. More than anything she is sharing the look. Something definitely happened but I have no clue what. 

“Angel, you have all the appointments and all of that?” I looked back to her and she smiled at me saying, “Yup, I just want out of here. It’s been crazy. I just want to cuddle with my boys and watch a movie.” I could feel the sincerity in her words. 

It wasn’t too long after that when Han came with the wheelchair saying, “You’re chariot awaits.” I am still really worried about her. She still says the cramps are no joke. Her cravings are still everywhere too. When she asked the attending about it they explained that her body is still going to have those pregnancy cravings for at least a few more weeks. I could see the hint of sadness in her features when hearing that. The only thing I could imagine herself feeling is that it’s another reminder. A reminder of what could’ve been. 

On our way to the house I could feel her excitement ramp up. I could hear her giggles as she listened to the radio. She waited and bounced at the redlights. I looked behind me and I saw everyone else in the car smiling lopsidedly as she giggled. Y/N wasn’t known for very big displays of excitement unless it was for something that she really really wanted or missed having. 

I could see the color in her face, knowing that if Hannie and I didn’t do what we needed to do, this would not have been the case. Instead, I get to see her smile, feel her laugh a little more, and be thankful for every moment, I always was but now? It’s like I have a deeper love for her. She was already a part of me, but now she is like a vital organ, as odd as it sounds. 

As I was in my own thoughts I heard a song play, it was one that I knew she loved. Immediately I felt her hand grab mine, which was on the shared arm rest. Usually if she wanted the armrest she would just nudge me until I relented and shared, but this was different. She laid her arm on top of mine, her hand interlocking with mine as she sang along to the song. I couldn’t help but think it belonged there. Touches are a part of her expression of comfortability. It’s how she communicates, which I happen to know all too well. This had more weight to it somehow. She felt like she knew that no matter what she’d be safe. Which was and still is true.

When we pulled around the corner we were met with balloons in her favorite color on the doorstep. Her eyes lit up as she said, “What’s this?” I just shrugged as I said, “I don’t know, Lix told me that he was up to something but I didn’t really know what.” As soon as we parked Y/N bounced as she waited for one of us to come around and help her. 

I think that she was surprised at the fact that we had done anything, period. I know that she has a complex. She tends to feel like she isn’t worth the time. That was something that she told me in confidence one night. Every night she would cry herself to sleep for the better part of 2 and a half years. Hannie and I did not catch it until we started spending weekends with her. 

One night I heard whimpering from their room, when I knocked I heard sniffles. I gently pushed the door open, I found her curled in a ball, crying looking at her phone. When I asked her what was wrong she just handed me the phone. On it was a text thread. 

Y/N: hey are you coming home? It’s Friday and I wanted to watch a movie with you. Channie❤️: Not this again, Y/N. I’m working, I don’t have time for this. Y/N: You promised you’d take some days off every week, so you don’t burn out. You even said that those days are our days.  Channie❤️: Y/N the more you talk to me the longer I have to be in the studio. So you are causing me to be away longer because you can’t be patient.  Y/N: I haven’t seen you in weeks, Channie. You are always gone, I miss you and I feel alone… like you don’t care.  Channie❤️: bingo! You are right. I don’t care. My phone is getting turned off. Maybe then you’ll get the message that I don’t have time for you. Get some sleep, trust me, don’t wait up. 

I held her all night that night, I dried her tears as she clung onto me for dear life. Like I said before, her love language is touch, so to literally be starved of that for weeks from her husband made me feel enraged. More than anything, I wanted to make her comfortable. 

I wrapped her in a fluffy blanket of which I called ‘the Y/N burrito’. Then I picked her up while she giggled and placed her on the couch. We watched whatever she wanted. Early into the morning she started craving her favorite snack so we went out in pajamas, got the snacks, and had a movie marathon. It’s one of my favorite memories with her. She started off that night crying and ended it safe in my arms, snacks surrounding her as credits rolled on the T.V. 

I brushed her hair back as I stared at her sleeping so peacefully on the couch. The credits created a dim and timid light as I wiped the chocolate from the corners of her mouth. It was about 6am when Chris walked in. He looked annoyed and just walked past us as if we were ghosts. 

I recounted this as I saw the balloons, thinking that whatever is inside, she is going to love it. 

Han was first to grab her. When Seungmin unlocked the door with the overnight bags slung over his shoulder we could hear a little gasp and some talking. Han held her hand as we walked. 

“This is so sweet you guys didn’t have to,” she stopped at the balloons, looking at them as if they were the most precious diamonds she has ever seen. Then when we walked in she started sniffling. 

Sitting on the couches were 6 pillow sized plushies, and one giant plushie. Y/N loves plushies, their textures calm her. What got her to cry though, was what each of them represented. The one giant plushie was an angel. The other 6 were a lioness, a crown, a bird, a sunflower , Anya, and the National flower of Korea, the mugunghwa, the symbol of eternal beauty, that one has to be Minho’s. 

I have no clue where he even found some of these. Especially the lioness, that one represented I.N.’s nickname for her. Whenever anyone tried to mess with us he always said, “if you think the wolf is bad wait until the lioness hears about this.”

She started crying, “they…. They’re all my nicknames. The ones you gave me.” She immediately went to the angel and grabbed it, hugging it tightly as she cried. 

My heart broke and swelled at the same time. She should never have to feel like anyone is going to abandon her. It makes me so sad to know that she was so scared of losing us. All because of one foolish and egotistical man. He deserves nothing, especially not her love. Yet she loved him anyway. That is the type of person that she is. 

Felix came up to her and said, “I figured if one of us had to go out and you missed us, now you’ll have a piece of us with you. You won’t be alone, and we’ll always come back to you. So when we leave, you can hold on to them really tight and know that soon we’ll be there.” I could see the tears about to leave his eyes.

If anyone was able to do something this sweet for Y/N, it would be Felix. The way that he cares for her, comforts her, it’s like they share one mind. He knows that she loves plushies. Ones that are so soft she can just sink into them. Chris never really liked too many things in his room. So he always discouraged her from decorating with plushies. He also felt that, although they were cute, they had no place in an adult’s bedroom. Especially not a leader’s bedroom. Most of her plushies found residence in my room. 

I had no problem holding onto them for her and sometimes she would even decorate my room with them. Every movie night, before Hannie and I came home, she would grab the plushies and throw them on Han’s bed. She’d decorate with them, with Hannie’s favorite holding a bag of Hannie’s snacks. She’d also have her favorite, she named it Ollie, and Gyu on the bed, with popcorn in the middle. 

That always made me smile. That wherever Ollie went, so did Gyu. Whenever I would sleep in the same bed with her, I would grab Ollie and Gyu. One night she asked if she could hold Gyu for a bit. Usually I don’t let anyone touch him, but she isn’t anyone. Without hesitation I handed her Gyu and she handed me Ollie. I remember hearing her sigh with comfort as she talked to Gyu about me. How lucky Gyu must be to fall asleep next to me every night. She thanked him for comforting me and for allowing me to sleep soundly. Even on every tour, she would pack Ollie and Gyu for me to sleep with. The first time she did it, she wrote a note with it. ‘I’m going to miss you, but so is Ollie. I may not be able to go with you but Ollie can! Sleep well, have a great tour, I’ll see you soon Binnie!-Angel.’

She looked up at Felix, released the angel, and hugged him as she whimpered a bunch of tiny little “thank you’s” into his chest. I think she realized that all of us know that she is scared. We may not say it but we do. We know and we all love her so much. We are here for her. Even if we may not be there in person, there is no place we would rather be than being with her. 

Felix held her and pulled back after a few minutes. He wiped her tears and he said, “come on sit, take a load off. The brownie batter is almost done… unless you want to help?” He smirked at her. 

She practically dragged Felix to the kitchen and Minho yelled, “Yah, I’m not done in here!” She giggled and asked what he was doing. I came into the kitchen to see Minho tying tenderloin together. She was watching curiously as he worked. He said, “it is your first day home and we should celebrate that. I’m making beef wellington, and don’t worry I left out the mushrooms, replaced it with onions and carrots for you.”

“Really? Thank you Minho! This is going to be the best dinner, thank you!!” She bounced and kissed him on the cheek. His ears turned red as he said, “okokok go over there with Lix’ you guys can have the oven first since this needs to chill,” he kissed her forehead right before she bolted to help Lix. I couldn’t help but giggle at her as she breathed life into the room. 

I could see that she was really touched that he said, ‘your first day home’. Those words meant that now she is home. This is her space as well as theirs, that will never change. I could see her trying to hold back tears as she baked. Once things were baking Lix’ plugged in the switch and we had a blast playing games while we waited for dinner to come around. After everything was baked and made, we all sat down for a nice dinner, like we used to in the shared dorms.

Right before we all sat down Y/N smiled and said, “thank you. To all of you. This experience was hard. It was the hardest thing that I have ever been through to date. It’s because of all of you that I made it. All of you mean so much to me. The thing that really scared me after all of this was what would happen if I lost you guys? My boys. I cherish every single memory with each of you. I love you boys so damn much, you are all my family. Seeing what you did,” she looked at me and Hannie, “Being so strong. Crying with me, holding me through it all.” I grabbed her hand and kissed it. Resisting the urge to nudge into it like I always do.

She looked at everyone else, “The fear that each of you must have felt. I know I wasn’t the only one mourning and coming to terms with things.” I saw her look directly at Seungmin for a split second and went back to scanning the table, “I want to thank all of you so much. This experience was horrific. Because of all of you, I made it out. I love you boys so much. Thank you for welcoming me home.” With that, she sat down and leaned into me, I could tell she was either too nervous or embarrassed.

As we were eating and laughing she looked around the table. I sat down right to her left and Hannie was on her other side. I could tell she was doing her best not to cry. I think it was the same for the boys. Two days ago that wasn’t the case. She was fighting for her life around this time. To think that we would all be here, together, a family. It made me want to cry. This is the family that she deserves. Everyone she loves, at home, on time, together. She was so happy and before dessert came out Hyunjin said, “Yongbok-ah phase 2.” Then Felix went running to his room. He came out with a giant comforter and plopped on the living room floor. He then ran to Minho’s room, grabbed his comforter and plopped it down as well. At that point I.N. said, “Movie time! Everyone on the floor!”

Immediately everyone moved to the living room and got a spot except for me. I was helping wash dishes with Minho. When I walked in I could see Minho tearing up as we heard her giggle. I patted his back as I said, “what can I do to help, hyung?” He just shook his head a bit and asked me to help him with the drying. By the time we were almost done with that I heard Y/N calling my name and asking me to sit. I told her that I had to change into my pajamas first and I could hear her ask Lix if she could change in his room quickly. He of course obliged. 

Slowly but surely everyone started changing and pretty soon everyone was sitting on the comfy comforters. I didn’t really know where to sit and Y/N looked at me saying, “I know you aren’t thinking about sitting away from me.” I didn’t want to make it seem like she needed to be next to me all of the time, thinking that I would come off as clingy but it’s nice to know that she craves my touch as well. 

I sat down right next to her and everyone’s faces had giant smiles. I looked at her and she smirked as she held onto my bicep curling into me. This is one of my favorite places to be. Just next to her as she clings onto me like a Koala. 

She was giggling as Felix handed out the brownie sundaes and everyone got comfy. Y/N decided on a comedy for the first movie and out of nowhere she asked me, “You guys were never going to leave me, were you?” 

I just smiled at her and said, “Not in a million years. We love you, we always will. Nothing and no one will get in the way of that.” She gave me an indication that she wanted to be closer so I lifted my arm up, that way she could scooch closer to me. I could feel the tears through my sleep shirt as I held her. 

“Thank you for not leaving me.” She said as quietly as she could. The truth is, she is someone that I need, someone that we all need. She is a unique type of person. After about two movies most had abandoned the comforter pile. By the early morning it was just me and Y/N. We were laying down on her new plushies. She took her place on my chest. Much like that night from years ago, I wiped the chocolate from her face and watched her form as she slept, credits rolling on the T.V. I smiled as she slept. I kissed her forehead and she intertwined her leg with mine. A few minutes later we fell asleep, with the promise of better days ahead.

[darylas]

Chapter 2 - It’s Only a Paper Moon

John “Bucky” Egan x singer!fem!reader previous ♫ next ♫ ao3

Bucky is realizing that your performance doesn't end when you leave the stage, but he's determined to see what lies under the mask.

1.8k words

Warnings: Language, Smoking, Bucky being a little shit

Disclaimer: Most of the characters mentioned are based on the dramatic portrayal featured in the Masters of the Air limited series, not the actual historical figures they represent.

You stood outside the officers' club, slouching against the back wall and using one hand to massage your cheeks. Before joining the American Red Cross and moving overseas, you’d never realized just how sore one’s face could get from smiling all day long. How tired one could become of the sound of their own false laughter. Never appreciated just how valuable a quiet moment alone could really be. 

Your days at Thorpe Abbotts had quickly grown monotonous, though you supposed that rehearsing and performing with the band multiple days a week made your experience a bit more unique than the other volunteers’. 

For you, the most difficult part of the job was not waking up before dawn to prepare doughnuts and coffee for the airmen, though you were counting down the days until your next morning off.

It also wasn’t the fact that you and your fellow ARC girls were nothing less than amateur psychiatrists, offering a comforting and listening ear to soldiers who were fresh out of combat to process their violent experiences. You felt that you had become quite adept at keeping your attitude from being too bright, thus seeming uncaring, or too sympathetic, which might evoke even darker emotions from the soldier. Thanks to these revealing conversations, you came to know a lot more than you anticipated about the horrors of war.

It certainly wasn’t performing in front of large crowds; you had always been good at that. 

No, for you the most draining aspect of your job was moments like this one, the moments between musical numbers. Making small talk, smiling at all times, laughing at the same joke you’d already been told at least thirty times as if it were the funniest thing you’d ever heard. Truthfully, it felt like a much grander performance than anything you’d ever done on stage. Ever since you were a child, you cherished your alone time and preferred genuine, intellectual conversation to what felt like pointless small talk. At this point, the mask you wore during these moments seemed to be plastered to your face at all times. You would never reveal this to the men, of course. This was why you were here, to give these brave men a piece of home and to raise morale. 

Of course, while ARC girls were expected to attend parties and socialize, they were not required to accept every invitation. While most of the men were harmless and polite, there were some who you would prefer to avoid interaction with altogether. Major Egan being one of them. 

You had always been one to trust your instincts about a person, and something about the major kept you at a distance. For one, he was full of himself, or at least he seemed to be. You supposed that was not uncommon in young officers with higher ranks. For another thing, word spread among the women fast enough for you to know that a dance with John Egan often didn’t end once the music stopped. You had no interest in being anyone’s conquest of the month. 

Right now, you knew you had a few minutes before your next number. You had been able to sneak out for a moment with the rather poor excuse of needing some fresh air to boost your lung volume and vocal control. You took out your sad little lighter and a cigarette from one of the packs of four rationed to each soldier. This pack was gifted to you by a young private who said he didn’t smoke. Fresh air, indeed. 

You flipped open the lid and thumbed the wheel once, twice, three times with no flame. You kept trying, but the damn thing still wouldn’t light. “Oh for crying out loud, you goddamn son of a b-”

“Need a light?”

═════ ♫ ═════

Bucky watched you transform before his eyes. Your posture went from slouched to straight-backed; your expression from one of annoyance and frustration to unnervingly neutral. You could certainly teach a thing or two about standing at attention to many of the airmen under his command. He had to stop himself from saying “At ease, soldier.” While it was impressive, it was not the reception he had been hoping for. 

“Major Egan,” you said. “I’m sorry, I thought I was alone out here.” 

“Yeah, I gathered that,” he replied, pulling his Zippo out of his pocket. “And you can call me Bucky.” He ignited the lighter. 

You glanced at the flame and then back at him gratefully before lighting your cigarette. “Thank you for the light, but if you don’t mind I would prefer to continue addressing you professionally.” 

“Oh, well in that case, you can call me John. Mind if I have a smoke with you?” he asked, already taking out a cigarette and putting it in his mouth. 

Bucky noticed a slight pause before you replied, “Of course not, but wouldn’t you rather join everyone else in the club? From what I gather, you’re often the life of the party.” You looked toward the door. 

Bucky grinned. “I don’t know about that. Since you started singing here, I’d say you’ve earned that title yourself.” He leaned against the wall next to you, though you were now standing straight. “‘Sides, I see too much of those guys as it is. Trust me, you’re much better company.” He winked. 

You exhaled a cloud of smoke and said “You’re too kind,” then gave him a close-mouthed smile. You looked away and tapped your foot absent-mindedly to the muted sound of the lively music coming from inside. Bucky took a drag of his own cigarette. You remained quiet, the tapping of your foot on the gravel and the muted jazz tune being the only sounds for several seconds. Bucky frowned. Every other Red Cross girl he interacted with made small talk, asking him questions about his home town, listening excitedly as he talked about baseball. Hell, you had more to say to your dead lighter than you did to him. 

It appeared that flattery was not the key to unlocking your clearly well-protected personality. It didn’t convince you to dance with him the other night, and it certainly wasn’t working now. He scoffed to himself. Buck would smirk and say that he should’ve asked Bubbles for advice before making another attempt with you. 

He could give up. Accept the fact that you clearly didn’t like him, go inside, and have a drink with the boys. 

Or he could try something else. Something Buck would call him a loony for even thinking.

Looking straight ahead, he said, “Don’t, uh, don’t they interview you Red Cross girls? Before you can come overseas? I thought the ones that got sent over here had to have killer personalities or somethin’.” He glanced toward you while taking another drag. 

Your brow furrowed and you turned your head toward him. “I beg your pardon?”

There you are.

“Aww, you don’t gotta beg me, sweetheart. It’s okay, I get that not everybody is cut out for this.” He gestured with the hand holding his cigarette. “I just find it odd that you made the cut. I was under the impression that the competition to get this position was pretty fierce, but maybe there are fewer girls gunnin’ for it than I thought.” He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling, keeping a serious expression on his face.

You narrowed your eyes and slightly cocked your head to the side. “I expect you to apologize for that, Major.” 

Bucky nodded quickly and tossed his cigarette on the ground before crushing the butt beneath his heel. “You’re right. You’re right. I’m sorry about that.” He leaned against the wall once again, this time facing you. “I’m sure you’re doing the best you can. You do seem a little tired.” He looked at you sympathetically, then glanced down to watch you bite your bottom lip. Miraculously, he was able to tear his gaze away to look you in the eyes again, not wanting to miss your reaction.

After a few more seconds of tense silence, you looked away and disposed of your cigarette. “Thank you again for the light. I’m going inside.” You walked toward the door. 

What the hell was that?

He must have inadvertently spoken the question aloud, because you abruptly turned around and raised an eyebrow at him. He started to apologize for cursing at you, but instead he said, “You’re not gonna say anything? Not a ‘how dare you?’ Not gonna call me a goddamn son of a bitch? Or do you just save that fire for your lighter?” You continued to watch him silently. “I guess you also save all the laughs and dances for every other guy here.” He pointed hard with both index fingers to his chest. “But me? Oh, lucky me, I get nothin’.” He stopped talking and looked at you with anticipation, both of his brows raised.

You finally shrugged and said, “I suppose I’m just too tired,” then started again for the door. Bucky forced himself to unclench his jaw and pry his feet from their current spot. He hurried to beat you to the door and hold it open for you. 

You muttered a quiet “thank you” as you walked through, but before you could get far into the crowded room, Bucky was once again by your side. 

“You know, I got a theory,” he said, his voice a little brighter than it had been just moments ago.

Whether you had meant for him to or not, he heard you let out a huff from your nose. “Oh, please,” you said under your breath.

“I told you, you don’t have to beg me, sweetheart.” He continued. “I think you know that if you dance with me, you’ll realize I’m not such a bad guy,” he said, leaning in quite close to you but giving you enough space to back away. You didn’t. “I think you’re scared you’ll like it.” 

You didn’t blush or move away. Instead, you maintained eye contact as the band began playing It’s Only a Paper Moon. You responded with that polite, cryptic smile that was beginning to drive him nuts, and said softly, “I guess we’ll never know.” 

You didn’t wait for him to reply before making your way toward the microphone. The crowd cheered eagerly as they saw you approach. You beamed at the crowd and began to sing. 

Say it’s only a paper moon

Sailing over a cardboard sea

You motioned to the crowd to sing along with you for the next line, a silent command that everyone except Bucky obeyed wholeheartedly. For once, he was the only person in the room not singing. 

But it wouldn’t be make-believe

If you believed in me

As the band played a brief interlude, you said into the microphone, “Wow, you all sound fabulous. I’m not sure why they’ve got me up here. Heck, they aren’t even paying me.” The crowd laughed and remained enraptured with your performance. As burnt up as he was feeling, Bucky couldn’t help hanging onto every note. As he watched you sing and smile and joke, he had one thought run continuously through his mind.

Just who the hell is this woman?

A/N: This one's for my fellow masking introverts. Yeah so Bucky decided to use kindergarten tactics on reader. Next chapter, he pushes her off the swings. Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed!

[starlightandetherealshadows]

☾. DEMO (24k) ☾. CHARACTERS ☾. PLAYLIST

Latest Update: Chapter 1 released on 08/25/2023

Your story starts like any other. Your life was normal, until it wasn’t. Two years after an invasion ravaged the Earth, you’re struggling to find purpose. The lonely life of struggle and survival is not for you. You’d promised yourself that if there was an apocalypse, you’d end it. That was then. That was when hypotheticals existed. Instead of dying, you lived against all odds and continue to do so.  Why? You don’t know. You wake up fortunate to be alive. Everything between the sunrise and sunset is white noise. Insignificant. Now, your normal shifts again. You’re surrounded by a group of strangers, their faces unfamiliar except for the exhaustion in their eyes. There's something coming, something worse. It isn't hard to believe. After all, still water is an infested one. For the first time in two years, you aren't sure who is a predator, and who is prey. Caught between a millennia-long war, the human race is but a spoke in the wheel, narrowly avoiding being crushed by powers beyond your comprehension. At the end of the world, there is only one question. Who is running from whom?

☾. FEATURES

Customize your MC. Play as male, female, or nonbinary. You can determine their appearance and personality, updating it (voluntarily and involuntarily) as the story progresses. Are they charming or intimidating? Do they use their fists to solve problems, or their keen mind and deductive reasoning? Can they talk their way out of trouble, or do they avoid it in the first place? 

Become an asset to your group. The perfect team has balance. Choose your MC’s strengths and weaknesses; develop them as you see fit. Make decisions that change the lives of your found family, or sit on the sidelines and watch chaos unfold. Do you believe in fate, or will you change your future by force?

Engage in romance, or keep it purely platonic between 5 love interests. There are two options for short term flings, and one poly option available.

Survive. Easier said than done.

☾. ROMANCE OPTIONS

For each of the romanceable characters, there will be options to increase flirtation, friendship, or antagonism. 

☾. Ayana Tsosie (F)

Compassionate, intelligent, tactical, and ambitious, you have no doubt that A is a natural born leader. Despite her warm, welcoming demeanor, A is reluctant to pursue close relationships for fear of it interfering with her sense of responsibility to the group. You catch her crying in the early hours of the morning. Whose ring adorns her necklace?

☾. Cecelia/Chase Quinn (F/M)

Always up for a laugh, C isn’t interested in the doom and gloom. That doesn’t mean they lack competence. C is damn good with technology, able to rig up electricity seemingly from their back pocket. They take their friendships seriously, and will be the first to defend you when trouble comes knocking. Still, you wonder why they flinch at any sudden movements.

*C is demisexual; it takes a high friendship for them to reciprocate any romantic/sexual feelings.

☾. Delphine (F)

A succubus alien from the planet Cypress Velo, Delphine has been on Earth long before the Nion 8 invasion. At the end of the world, the seedier clubs and places of indulgence stand; Delphine works as a bartender and dancer at said places. Wealthy, gorgeous, and playful, Delphine can flash her fangs and have the world on it's knees. You can't help but gravitate towards her. Is she using her powers on you, or is her magnetism all natural?

☾. Zero Chevalier (M)

Having been plagued by night terrors since they were teenagers, Z can't close his eyes without hearing things. Seeing things. His parents, friends, and psychiatrists tell them that it's all in his head. Z prefers the shadows to the spotlight; at least the nightmares hold him close.

*Zero is locked in a v-type polyamorous route.

☾. Xa'eks/Xa'veed (F/M)

X never wanted to be in the military; they didn't know that until their species invaded Earth and they realized that others have a choice. Those words: choice, love, want, fear, longing, regret. It is all foreign to them. X knows their people cannot hide forever. The time for war is coming; but what sort of militia would they be if they couldn't see a lost battle a mile away?

*Memento Mori is a 18+ interactive fiction game that is best suited for the genres of sci-fi, romance, and horror. Wrecked and ravaged by an alien invasion, Earth is on the brink of war. War with who? That is yet to be determined, as no one knows who is the predator, and who is the prey.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Thank you all so much for your interest and support. It means the world to me!! ♡ ♡

All my love,

Cheye (she/her) :･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･

[a-small-safe-place]

His Haven Pt. 2

Homelander x Psychiatrist!Reader

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

As the weeks passed, Homelander continued to integrate himself into your life, blurring the lines between patient and "friend." One evening, after a particularly intense session, Homelander broached the subject of spending more time together outside of the therapy room. "I was thinking," he began, his blue eyes searching yours, "maybe we could grab a bite sometime. You know, outside of this place." Your heart sank, torn between the genuine connection you felt with Homelander and the professional boundaries you knew you needed to maintain. With all your other patients, you had discussed boundaries, but not with the members of The Seven. The Deep, A-Train, and Queen Maeve viewed these sessions as a waste of time. Starlight and Black Noir had kept a very professional relationship. You weren't totally sure why Black Noir still came to the sessions since his sessions were spent in silence, usually with him drawing pictures of Buster Beaver and his little buddies. Starlight was the only one that used the sessions for what they were meant for.

You had not thought you needed to set boundaries with them, and that, since these were America's greatest heroes, the boundaries were obvious and unspoken. Oh, how that had bitten you in the ass now, having to turn down the offer. You let those boundaries slip by allowing Homelander to come to your house, but in that situation, there was not a lot you could do to stop him.

"I appreciate the offer, Homelander, but it's important to keep our relationship within the confines of our sessions," you replied carefully, trying to hide the conflict in your eyes, unaware that he could hear your heartbeat and smell your nervousness. Homelander's expression shifted from hopeful anticipation to a subtle disappointment that cut through you. "Right, professional boundaries," he said, a forced smile tugging at his lips. It is the kind of smile that does not reach his eyes. "I get it." You could not let his dangerous expression get to you.

The following sessions became strained. Homelander seemed distant, his usually confident demeanor replaced by an air of vulnerability and irritation. You should be thanking him that he is interested in you. He attended sessions less frequently, and when he did, the conversations were stilted. It was clear that your rejection had affected him more than either of you anticipated. Homelander was not willing to give up. You just needed a chance to come around.

One day, after a difficult session, Homelander lingered in your office. "Is there something you're not telling me?" he asked, his tone a mixture of frustration and hurt. Homelander knew you did not have a partner in your life. He had stopped by to do a thorough search of your home while you were out, and there was no evidence of you dating someone, not even the smell of a casual hookup still lingering on your skin. You sighed, maintaining the professionalism that defined your role. "It's not that I don't value our sessions, Homelander. But crossing the boundaries of a therapeutic relationship can be detrimental for both of us," you explained, your words hanging heavily in the air. "I want what's best for you, and sometimes that means maintaining a professional distance."

Homelander's jaw tensed, and he stood abruptly. "So, I'm just another patient to you, is that it?" His eyes bore into yours, searching for a hint of vulnerability that matched his own. "No, Homelander, you're not just another patient," you replied softly, your heart aching at the pain evident in his eyes. "But I have a responsibility to ensure that our interactions remain focused on your well-being." He stormed out of your office without another word, leaving you with a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. Homelander is a dangerous and unpredictable man. The once-promising therapeutic alliance had crumbled, replaced by an unspoken tension that hung in the air during each subsequent session.

Days turned into weeks, and the divide between you and Homelander deepened. He attended sessions less frequently, and when he did, the conversations were strained and unproductive. Of course, for Homelander, he still had his time with you even if you were oblivious to it. Though, he would much rather be in your arms than jacking off on the building next to yours while you participated in a similar activity in the warmth of your bed. 

One evening, after a silent session, Homelander was particularly grumpy in this session. He had expressed that he had a bad day. Homelander lingered at the door. "You should be fucking thanking me,” He pauses. “I am giving you the opportunity of a lifetime, and you're fucking throwing it away. Do you know how many people would leave their whole families just for one glance from me?”

The weight of his words settled heavily on your shoulders as he walked away, leaving you alone in the empty office. It made you wonder how dangerous Homelander really was and how desperate he would become if you continued to deny him. The once-promising connection had fractured irreparably, and the professional boundaries you fought so hard to maintain had come at the cost of a genuine connection with Homelander.

The weeks passed with a lingering tension between you and Homelander. The once-promising therapeutic alliance had crumbled, leaving behind an unspoken rift that seemed insurmountable. Homelander attended sessions less frequently, and when he did, the conversations were strained, devoid of the genuine connection that had defined your earlier interactions. It became evident that your rejection had affected him more deeply than either of you anticipated. Homelander, usually the embodiment of confidence, now wore an air of vulnerability and loneliness that tugged at your conscience. The sessions were marked by long pauses, resentful glances, and a palpable discomfort that neither of you could ignore. You couldn't shake the feeling of regret that lingered each time you saw him. The haunting realization that you had sacrificed something meaningful for the sake of professional decorum weighed heavily on your conscience. Late one evening, a knock echoed through your home. Homelander stood at the doorway, his usual confidence replaced by a vulnerability that mirrored the man you had glimpsed in the early days of your sessions. "I need someone to talk to," he admitted, his voice a whisper.

[ozzgin]

Here's a complete list of all my original works to date.

Yakuza Series

Yandere!Yakuza x Reader (I)

Yandere!Yakuza x Reader (II)

Yandere!Yakuza x Reader (III)

Yandere!Yakuza x Reader (IV)

Yandere!Yakuza x Reader (V)

Yandere!Yakuza x Reader Headcanons

Yandere! Daitou x Reader x Yandere! Kazuya

Asks: Birthdays, Sharing, Baka Mitai, Readers, Children, Periods, Names (Kanji)

Doodles: Character Design, With Reader, Part 5 Preview, Pocket love, Daitou, Smooched Daitou, Daitou cleavage

Bodyguard Series

Yandere!Bodyguard x Idol!Reader (I)

Yandere!Bodyguard x Idol!Reader (II)

Yandere!Bodyguard x Idol!Reader (III)

Asks: Background & Skills, Children, Training, Bratty Reader, Love notes

Doodles: Under lock and key

Yokai Harem Series

Yandere!Yokai Harem Guidebook

Yandere!Yokai Harem Headcanons

Yandere!Yokai Harem x Reader (I)

Yandere!Yokai Harem x Reader (II)

Yandere!Yokai Harem x Reader (III)

Asks: Oni! Reader AU, Yandere!Abe no Nakamaro Headcanons, Being Nakamaro's Wife, Sharing a bed, Virgin Reader, Ice Cream Flavors, Yandere Spider Lady

Doodles: Suma and Reader, Reader doing their best, Sick Reader, Cheerleading Team, Sakaki Reference Sheet, Spider Lady

Yandere Monsters

Complete list here

Generic Yandere

Cute!Twisted! Yandere x Reader

Yandere!Lawyer x Embroiderer!Reader

Yandere!Patient x Psychiatrist!Reader

Yandere!Host x Reader

Yandere!Serial Killer x Reader

Yandere!Bad Guy x Reader [Tig]

Nerd!Loser!Yandere x Bully!Reader

Yandere! Politician x Bratty! Reader

Yandere!Android x Reader (I)

Yandere!Male x Willing!Reader (Parody)

Yandere!Tumblr Writer x Literal Reader (Parody)

Asks: [Android] Technical details

Doodles: [Android] Reader Insert, Kabedon Meme ft. OCs, [Meme] Yan! Burger

Chat with them: Character.AI list for OCs

Work in Progress

[Request] Yandere!Ex x Reader

[Request] Yandere!Artist x Reader

[Request] Nerd!Loser!Yandere Headcanons

[Request] Yandere!Host x Oblivious!Reader

[Request] Yandere!Male x Willing!Reader cont.

Yandere!Serial Killer x Reader Headcanons

Yandere!Android x Reader (II)

Yandere!CEO x Reader

Yandere!Circus x Reader

Yandere!Killer x Reader

Yandere!Delinquents x Reader

The Yandere OCs and their jealousy

[flowerandblood]

The Knight & The Judge

[ modern Frollo • Aemond x Esmeralda • female ]

[ warnings: dubcon, sex content, smut, angst, domination and humiliation kink, description of physical and mental disabilities, prejudices against disabled people, aggressive behavior, violence, swearing, trauma, mention of an accident with fatalities ]

[ description: After a car accident, his brother has to deal with the consequences of what happened, and he, as his protector, does not know how to help him. His sister comes up with the idea of hiring someone as his carer who will be able to cheer him up and occupy his mind. It turns out, however, that the girl he hired charmed not only his younger brother. Obsession, self-destructive behavior, verbal and physical aggression, sexual tension, dark, malicious Aemond. ]

Author's note: This story is a request, but I decided to freely use what I liked in the book and Disney film to create a new, disturbing story taking place in modern times. It is intended to be uncomfortable and will contain scenes that are at least morally questionable, in my version "Esmeralda" is not Romanian. This story will also include motifs from Jane Eyre, which was a separate request. My story will also touch on the problems of people with disabilities, so if these are sensitive topics for you, I advise against reading further. You have been warned.

Part 2 − The Sin & The Penance

Part 3 − The Doubt & The Delight

Epilogue

Main Characters Moodboard

Aemond NSFW Alphabet

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

On that day it seemed to him that the whole world had turned against him. His coffee machine had broken down, there was more traffic than usual on the roads, he was sure he would be late for work, and his brother had woken up in a mood worse than always and cried all the way to the centre.

"I don't want to go there. I-I'm scared of some of those kids." He muttered under his breath, swallowing loudly, whooping with tears. He looked at him in the mirror, feeling a squeeze in his throat every morning when he left him there, but saw no other alternative.

He still hadn't recovered mentally after what had happened five years ago and, according to his psychiatrist, he wasn't ready to attend a normal school until he gained more confidence.

He did not want to force him to listen to unpleasant comments, however, he felt uncomfortable himself.

The centre was huge, classes were taught in different groups of matched children, however, there were times when Daeron encountered kids with a spectrum of disabilities other than physical and was simply afraid of them.

He tried to explain it to him, but how was a child supposed to understand these complicated, sometimes even uncontrollable behaviours and screams?

He swallowed hard, leaning the back of his head against the backrest, turning on the right indicator with his hand, driving into the car park of the building where he would leave him for the time he spent at work, during which he studied and had various extra classes with children with problems similar to his.

However, was he to surround himself all his life only with children who had mobility problems, who had no arms or legs, who suffered from paresis or lack of feeling in their limbs?

Every time he thought about it he wanted to cry.

He turned off the engine, staring dully ahead, hearing his mother's screams again in the background of his mind as his father fainted behind the wheel and drove off the road into the other lane – he felt once again that hard crash with the big truck coming from the opposite direction that crushed them.

They were only alive because they were in the back seats at the time, Daeron, however, was not as lucky as he was.

Compared to what happened to his younger brother, the glass that smashed into the left side of his face was nothing.

"Mrs Thomson said you can't spend all day at home doing one-to-one tuition. You have to see other children." He calmly repeated the formula he said whenever such a situation arose, opening his door, heading for the boot of his big black SUV – the car dealership had told him it was the safest and biggest model they had.

He took out the small wheelchair that had been put together and unfolded it, driving it closer, to the back seat where his brother sat, opening it – he looked away, unable to watch his brother's weeping face.

"I'm already late for work. Please. I promise we'll play FIFA' 23 together when we get back. Hm?" He muttered, and Daeron nodded, pale, breathing loudly, using his hands to move slowly towards the wheelchair onto which he shifted the weight of his body, hissing loudly as he lifted his legs onto the special supports.

The bones of his little legs had been simply crushed then – he continued to grow, the rehabilitation was hard and caused him great pain.

He would have preferred it to be him who suffered like this and not an innocent child, but God, who he wasn't sure he still believed in despite the deep faith his mother had always instilled in him, decided otherwise.

He closed the car and moved with him to the main entrance, pushing his wheelchair forward. When they got inside they were greeted by a lady they knew very well, several of his friends waved to Daeron, one of them was paralysed from the waist down, the other was missing one arm.

He swallowed loudly, thinking that his brother had to watch someone else's misfortune every day, himself for sure feeling like a cripple, like someone defective, someone who was a burden, even though he loved him the most in the world.

The cruelty of the situation left him with a clenched throat, so he would usually only throw him a few words to say goodbye, stroke his head and leave, only by the car tightening his fingers on the base of his nose, his healthy eye burning from the moisture that gathered under his eyelids.

As he always did in moments of breakdown, he started the engine, selected the number of his sister phone on the display under his dashboard and, turning on loudspeaker mode, started backing his car as he tried to drive out of the car park and drove ahead towards the national prosecutor's office.

"Hello? Aemond, did something happen?"

He heard Helaena's soft, sleepy voice. He knew she was still doing overtime as a doctor, overworking herself as much as he was and thought that he had woken her up after the night shift.

He felt remorse for not being able to handle it himself, although she always reassured him that she would always help him as best she could.

She got Daeron the best possible physiotherapist so that he was even able to take a few steps in the last month while holding on to his supports, however it still caused him great pain, the doctors said his bones would continue to hurt as long as he grew.

Perpetual undeserved suffering.

"I don't know what to do anymore. He says he is afraid of some of the children, those with intellectual disabilities. I know it's cruel, but fuck, I'd be scared of some of them too. Do they have to see each other in the same building, pass each other in the corridor? Shouldn't they be separated somehow?"

"God, Aemond, they're not animals. After all, they're children too." She said with sadness and resentment – he clenched his eye, sighing impatiently, trying to focus on the road again, tense.

"I know. I know. I really feel for them, but it's bad for his psyche. He recently asked me if he was normal, if he too would start shouting and babbling like them. That sometimes they are aggressive and the carers have to drag them away from him and his friends."

"It's horrible. Maybe he really should go there less often?" She asked sighing quietly, he heard her rise up on the bed with a quiet creak of the mattress.

"And what, he's going to sit at home with some boring old teacher? How will I know that no harm comes to him in my absence?" He asked resignedly, hearing silence on the other side for some time.

"Maybe find someone who won't be very distant in age. Someone who won't just teach him, but play with him and spend time with him. Someone old enough to be responsible for him and at the same time young enough not to feel so distant. Someone joyful." She replied, and he rolled his eyes as he drove into the underground car park of his office building.

"Joyful? I am supposed to pay someone to be joyful?" He sneered, shaking his head, his sister sighed again.

"He needs it, Aemond. We're all tired, and he's a child."

He hung up after a few minutes of further discussion, telling her he had to go, grabbed the case folders he'd just brought in and headed for the underground lift. He pressed the button showing the floor he wanted to move to when a woman's hand stopped the sliding doors, which opened a moment later.

Alys smiled broadly at him as she stepped inside with a confident stride – her high black heels emphasised how slender and long her legs were, her fitted, waist high pencil trousers and black blazer with a beautiful white shirt underneath highlighted both her confidence and her attractiveness.

He remembered the last few times the thrusts of his hips had pushed her into her desk, bent over and helpless, with firm, wide buttocks on which he tightened his fingers as he panted heavily, watching what he was doing to her, rooting into her again and again, thinking with mockery and amusement how easy it was to make a mere whore out of such a proud woman.

"Good morning, Mr Prosecutor." She said softly, contentment and calmness on her face, several of their intense close-ups had clearly left an intense mark in her, not just physical.

She liked the violent and determined ones, he knew that – she hid her age well and apparently decided that this was the last moment in her life when she could reach for what she wanted.

"Good morning, Miss Rivers." He replied calmly, uninterested in her ambiguous look, apparently suggesting that she wouldn't mind if what happened between them was repeated a few more times.

He was all about the sex. He was frustrated in this aspect – his artificial eye, although perfectly colour-matched to the other and the still clearly visible scar from where the glass pierced in, were a source of his complexes and shame.

He knew that no matter how perfect a professional he was, it was his appearance that made the first impression.

He preferred them to fear him rather than pity him.

In the courtroom he still struggled to be taken seriously so much so that his cold, calculating, ruthless nature began to frighten some – his judgement and questioning was harsh and lacking in compassion.

He knew exactly what he wanted and strove to get it.

His superiors quickly appreciated how skilful a lawyer he was and his ability to bring cases to an end and push whoever he needed to, hence he quickly moved to the National Prosecutor's Office, where more responsibilities and more money awaited him, which he could spend on Daeron's rehabilitation.

As he sat over the files he thought hard about what his sister had told him and decided that he would install CCTV in the house and then hire someone on a trial basis to see if it made sense.

He put up an anonymous job ad not wanting anyone to recognise him, described briefly his broad expectations and his rate per hour.

It turned out that dozens of people responded to his ad, just as he suspected attracted by the sum he had quoted, but he didn't know how he was supposed to sort them to choose the ones that seemed best to him. He began to read their answers, figuring that already from them he could deduce what types of personalities they were.

I am interested. My phone number is below.

Reject, he thought, clicking the red button informing the message sender that his offer was not accepted, and began to scroll further.

I am a carer with 10 years of experience. I have already cared for 14-year-old Mike with cerebral palsy, Adam with….

Reject, he clicked again.

He had no intention of making his home a second centre for the disabled.

He felt frustration and rage when he found that most of the messages were similar and just as empty in their tone, nothing convinced him about these people.

He knew Daeron wouldn't want to stay with them, and neither would he.

He stopped at one of the messages that looked completely different and blinked.

Good morning! I saw your ad and thought I would speak up. I'm a student, I'm studying costume design at the Faculty of Fine Arts. I'm looking for a casual job and I really enjoy working with children, I teach dressmaking as part of the teaching section of my university classes. I think that helping your brother with his studies at primary school level would be no problem for me at all, and I would also be happy to come up with different extra-curricular activities with him. Even if you decide not to hire me, I would like to sew your brother a costume of his favourite super hero, without any payment of course. You would just have to give me his measurements. I don't think anything makes kids his age happier!!! My warmest regards and I am sending my email below.

He looked at her message not too sure how he felt, at the same time being impressed, on the other hand feeling the seed of uncertainty and extreme caution characteristic of him when it came to his approach to newly met people.

What if this was a psychological tactic to make him believe her to be innocent and unselfish? To make him subconsciously choose her because she was the only one offering him something for free? If it was just her free promotion?

He chose two people reluctantly, but kept coming back to her message, trying to imagine her, seeing some crazy painting student looking like a hippie.

Maybe this was just what he needed? He thought with regret and sighed heavily, opening a new window in his inbox, writing her a short, brief email to appear at their house in a few days' time.

He was going to interrogate her.

The young man before her immediately made him uneasy – he had the impression that he smelled weed from him even though he had taken a shower, so he must have been smoking like crazy, and he had no intention of letting anyone who might encourage him to use any stimulants look after his brother.

The other girl was very frightened – his questions clearly startled her and made her uncomfortable, it frustrated him that she was barely able to make a sound. He thought she had something to hide, that people who have a clear conscience don't behave this way.

He thought with resignation that all he had left was a mad artist.

He sighed heavily as he heard the bell ring suggesting that someone was standing outside the gate. He walked over to the intercom and opened it, seeing in the small monitor a petite girl with dark, slightly wavy hair tied up in a ponytail.

He thought in disbelief that she was dressed for a job interview in a white turtleneck, dungarees and trainers, a fabric floral back on her back.

What the fuck, he thought, opening her door with a cold, indifferent expression on his face.

"Good afternoon." She said softly, a wide smile on her face. Before she walked in she wiped her shoes on the doormat, which pleased him. When she came inside she wanted to take off her trainers – he looked at her surprised, thinking she must be crazy.

"No, you don't have to. You can stay in your shoes." He said lowly, pointing towards the armchair, indicating to her with his hand the seat on the couch next to him.

She sat down in the seat he showed her, looking boldly straight into his eyes, her cheeks rosy with emotion.

She was clearly a tad nervous after all, he thought, musing for a moment that she had incredibly long, dark eyelashes.

"Do you have experience in working with children?" He asked immediately; she blinked and corrected herself in her seat, as if prepared for the question.

"Only in terms of working with them in sewing workshops." She answered simply, without any further explanation, which pleased him.

She was letting him draw his own conclusions, rather than imposing them on him so as to present herself in the most favourable light.

"My brother has mobility problems. How do you imagine helping him, for example, if he needs to go to the bathroom?"

"I think he's old enough that he can tell me himself what he'll need help with and what he won't, and what he'll feel comfortable for me to help him with and when he'll want me to leave." She said without thinking, shrugging her shoulders as if it was obvious. He squinted, intrigued that she was allowing herself to say unthoughtful things in front of him, as if she wasn't afraid of the consequences they might bring.

"And your studies? How will you have so much time to come here?"

"From what I understand, I would be expected to turn up on Tuesdays and Thursdays from eight in the morning until sixteen. I have practice classes then, the costumes I'm sewing I can bring with me and finish them while he's eating or watching something, maybe he'll even like it and want to practice with me?"

"What will you do if I don't hire you?" He asked dryly and she looked at him surprised, a light smile on her face indicating that his words didn't worry her.

"Then I will continue to work in the café. But my words about the superhero costume stand. Even if I can't work for you, sir, I would like to meet him and give him something. Children can be so brave." She said softly with sincere, bright joy and some kind of pride, as if Daeron was her brother and not his, something in her innocence, something in her attitude endeared him.

He could smell a lie a mile away, she wouldn't be able to pretend so well even if she were an actress.

These reactions were natural, she was saying exactly what she was thinking about.

"I will contact you once I have made my decision." He said indifferently, getting up from his seat and pointing with his hand towards the exit, suggesting that their conversation was over.

She stood up and smiled, undaunted by his behaviour or the length of their conversation. Both of them flinched when Daeron appeared in the living room, pushing the wheels of his wheelchair with a light flick of his hand.

"Good afternoon. Who is this lady?" His younger brother asked him, obvious curiosity on his face. He swallowed loudly and glanced at her – she answered nothing but waved at him vigorously, Daeron smiled shyly and waved her back, embarrassed.

"No one. I needed to talk to her." He replied, opening the door for her. She said a polite goodbye to him and his brother, waving at him once more, Daeron waved her back again, looking at him with questioning eyes as he closed it.

"I like her. She seems fun."

With no other choice, he decided he would give her a chance.

The first day she was to be left alone with Daeron he was all nerves despite the fact that his little brother hadn't seemed this excited to him in many years. He told him about his toys and the cartoons he was going to show her.

"First the lessons. Then two hours to play and free time." He replied dryly, tense, glancing at his watch, thinking with rage that she only had fifteen minutes left, that she was sure to be late or not come and leave him in the lurch when he had already cancelled his presence at the centre's classes.

They both flinched when they heard the bell ring; Daeron said, moving briskly forward in his wheelchair that he wanted to open for her and indeed, after a moment the girl he had hired appeared on the doorstep of their house, smiling and content – her cheeks flushed again, her dark hair loose, pleasantly framing her bright face, on her body only a black top and tracksuit shorts as it was a sunny, warm spring morning.

"Good morning, Daeron, nice to meet you!" She said with fondness and satisfaction in her voice, extending her hand in front of her, which his brother shook confidently. Daeron moved ahead of her, glancing over his shoulder at her.

"Come, I'll show you my room. I'll explain everything to you." He said, rolling his wheelchair up to the door, which was located on the ground floor of their house so that he could move around easily. The girl nodded, pulling her trainers off her feet, saying that she will come to him in a minute.

He took the opportunity to walk up to her, towering over her, and she threw him a quick surprised look.

He thought her eyes seemed even bigger than before, he wasn't sure if they were blue or green, both colours blending into one.

"You are to take care of him. I want you to go through all the material that was prepared for today. Only two hours of free time, no more. Behave responsibly and only call if it's really urgent or if something happens to him." He said matter-of-factly, and she swallowed quietly, nodding quickly, clearly horrified by how close he stood and how cold his voice was.

Good, he thought.

He wanted her to be afraid of the consequences of her actions.

He sat in the office all day terrified, stressed and unsure, trying to focus on the file in front of him, while involuntarily still glancing at his phone, checking to see if she might have called him.

Was everything okay? What if something had happened but she was afraid to call him? Maybe he should go home and test her, see what was going on?

He thought he would go mad if he didn't, so he left work an hour early – Alys threw something at him as he walked past her, probably something about a meeting or an evening out together, but he didn't answer her, heading for the stairs and the underground car park.

He drove forward, trying to calm himself down, thinking about how oversensitive he was, that surely everything was fine.

He pulled up in front of their house hearing music in the distance, wondering if any of the neighbours were having a party outside at this hour.

However, as he pressed the key to the gate and it slowly swung open he saw in disbelief the girl he had hired riding with lightness and grace on roller skates in his driveway to the tune of the Scissor Sisters song Don't Feel Like Dancin. Daeron laughed out loud, spinning beside her in his wheelchair, both of them wearing elbow and knee pads, in addition to his little brother wearing a bike helmet on his head.

What the fuck was that supposed to be?

He got out of the car, furiously slamming the door, his brother wheeled up to him briskly, his companion spinning slowly around them on roller skates – she raised her eyebrows with a smile, seeing the look on his face and waved at him.

"Look how well I dance, brother!" Exclaimed Daeron, spinning the wheels of his wheelchair around his own axis again.

He, however, instead of looking at him grabbed aggressively the arm of his carer who was doing another spin – she nearly fell over because of his tug and caught him abruptly by his jacket in an attempt to catch her balance.

"Ah!"

"What the fuck are you doing? Is this what I pay you for?" He growled and shook her hard. She stared at him with wide-open eyes, her lips slightly parted in accelerated breathing from fear, her face red from exertion, strands of her hair stuck to her cheeks.

"Let me go, sir. I will not speak to you like this." She said warningly, her brow furrowed. He pressed his lips together noticing that something had changed in her gaze, suddenly confident and angry, ready to fight if necessary.

He felt that look in his trousers, he'd never had the urge to slap a woman's ass as hard as hers before.

He glanced at his brother, who was looking at him in horror, only realising after a moment that the song had long since ended and there was a tense, awkward silence around them.

He let go of her arm, seeing with satisfaction that he had left a bruise on her skin in the shape of his fingers – she massaged at the spot, furrowing her brow.

"You're fired. You're irresponsible. Good thing I came back earlier." He said with mockery and fury, walking over to his brother, unbuckling the helmet he wore on his head. Daeron burst into a loud, uncontrollable sob.

"I don't want to. I don't want to, I don't want to go back there, I want to stay with her. It's my fault, I told her I wanted to dance, please, please, please, I want her to stay, I don't want to go back there." He babbled, running his hands over his shoulders in some helpless, childish pleading gesture from which he felt a squeeze in his throat. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, her gaze fixed on his little brother, sad and resigned – she was leaning over, untying the laces of the roller skates that had once belonged to his sister.

"Something could have happened to you. You could have fallen over and hit your head on the ground." He replied coldly, kneeling in front of him, unbuckling his knee pads.

"But I had a helmet on my head. After all, normal boys fall off bikes and stairs and they're fine! Nothing would have happened if I'd bruised myself a bit, I'm not made of glass!" He burst out suddenly with a fury he had never seen in him before, burying his little face in his hands, all red from tears and despair.

"I won't go back there, I won't go there tomorrow, if she doesn't stay, never, never again, I'd rather kill myself!" He whined out loud, falling into another attack of hysteria in recent months – he had trouble catching his breath, his lungs were wheezing all over. He took his face in his hands, but he closed his eyes, not wanting to look at him.

God, why?

"Remember what I told you?" She asked walking up to his brother in just her socks, kneeling beside him, grasping his hand. Daeron immediately fell silent, looking at her with wide eyes.

"That boy who calls you Quasimodo is just mean. You are my Phoebus, you have his beautiful hair, humour and valour. I'll sew us costumes and we'll go to the carnival ball together. His jaw will drop when he sees that you came with your Esmeralda. What do you say?" She asked softly, and he looked at her in disbelief, wondering if that was the reason his little brother didn't want to go there.

That boy who calls you Quasimodo.

He felt a twitch in his throat and swallowed loudly, his brother nodding quickly, drawing in air loudly, his eyes full of hope.

"Promise?" He asked in a trembling voice, and she smiled broadly, sincerely, squeezing his small hand.

"Promise."

They entered their house as his brother calmed down; he told Daeron to go to his room and leave them alone, which his brother eventually did with great reluctance, crying for a while longer, not wanting to say goodbye to her.

As soon as he heard the door close behind him at the end of the corridor he slipped his wallet out of the back pocket of his trousers, took out a few banknotes and threw them on the table in front of her in a careless gesture.

"Get the fuck out of my house." He said coldly, looking her straight in the eye. He saw her lower lip twitch, the pain of humiliation in her gaze, her eyebrows arched in disbelief that such words had left his mouth.

He wasn't paying her to make a circus of herself dancing like some fucking Esmeralda, exposing his brother to danger and injury.

He pressed his lips into a thin line and trembled with rage as she took the money and tossed it in his direction, the banknotes flying scattered around his feet.

"You could dress up as Frollo for the carnival ball, sir. It would suit you." She said drily, turning away tensely – he moved behind her, feeling anger buzzing strongly in his veins at her words.

He grabbed her by the neck with an aggressive flick of his hand and slammed her back against the wall, her voice stuck in her throat in horror, her big, bright eyes open wide in disbelief.

He took a step closer to her, feeling her warm body quiver all over in his grasp, digging his fingertips deeper into her skin, finding with delight that she was obscenely soft.

"Do you have anything else to say?" He asked in a low whisper filled with threat – she shook her head quickly clearly feeling the situation was out of her control, obviously fearing if he was really going to do something to her.

"No, are you sure? I'm listening to you. Tell me something else interesting about me." He said softly, encouragingly, moving even closer to her, the tips of their noses almost touching.

He could finally get a good look at her and he found curiously that he still couldn't tell what colour her eyes were, now slightly reddened from tears of fear.

She shook her head quickly, not making a sound; all he could hear was their quickened, raspy breaths, her hand touched his wrist as if she wanted to make sure he didn't strangle her.

He was somehow delighted by how delicate, long and slender her fingers were, feeling a pleasant pulsing in his trousers at the thought.

"Look at you. So silly. Because you're a silly little girl, aren't you? You would benefit from someone teaching you a lesson. No? Then apologise and I'll let you go and pretend I never met you." He said calmly, her whole body quivering with terror.

"Never." She said quietly, and he felt involuntarily that his lips curved in a dangerous, satisfied grin, his fingers clenching tighter around her neck.

"You're asking for trouble, Esmeralda." He muttered lowly, her nostrils twitching in accelerated breath.

"I will report what you are doing to the police." She said dryly and he smiled even wider, feeling her tremble all over as he leaned over her ear, his nose sinking into her soft, flower-scented hair – he closed his eyes and savoured the experience for a moment before whispering something she froze from.

"I am a prosecutor −"

Her hand clenched tighter on his wrist, a moan of despair escaping her lips, as if what he had said had really shocked her, as if she was only now realising what she had gotten herself into.

"− and I've never lost a case yet." He whispered in her ear, sliding his face lower, to her jaw and then to her neck, pressing his full lips to her skin, leaving wet, hot marks on it. He heard her draw in a loud breath.

"− w-what are you doing, sir? − no −" She whimpered, he felt her lift her arms up in a defensive gesture, trying to pull away from him, but he pressed her against the wall with his body, letting go of her neck, his erection throbbing hard in his trousers, pressing again and again against her stomach.

She felt it, a terrified cry escaped her lips as his lips pressed tightly against her neck – he began to suck painfully hard on her skin, wanting to leave her a crimson reminder of himself.

"− how did you put it? − who do I remind you of? −" He asked tauntingly, running his rough tongue over her red skin, feeling the veins pulsing rapidly under her soft, warm skin.

"− I'm sorry − I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry − please, please let me go −" She mumbled out in despair on the verge of crying, her voice trembling all over in terror, her breathing raspy and uneven, her small hands clenched on the material of his black turtleneck that he wore under his jacket.

He gasped at her words, sliding his mouth lower, repeating the same process, rubbing against her with his hips – his cock was all swollen and hard, pulsing with pleasure, his hands roaming down her back, sliding at last to her buttocks where they clenched.

"− look at you − so you can be polite after all, hm? −" He asked softly, lowering the material of her tracksuit shorts a little, his large hand grasping her plump, firm buttocks and slapping it hard – she clamped her lips together, trying to hold back the whimper that squeezed its way down her throat.

"− that's what I thought − turn around and let's get this over with −" He murmured, soothingly massaging the place that was now pulsing from his slap, grinning as she did so wordlessly, tears of helplessness and fear on her cheeks.

"− please −" She muttered and he sighed softly, sliding the material of her shorts and underwear down, revealing what was underneath – she shuddered and wept quietly as the tips of his fingers ran over her swollen folds, focusing their pressure on her sweet spot hidden between them, digging into her fleshy skin in circular, calm motions.

"− shhh − this way it will be easier for both of us −" He explained in a soft tone of voice, as if he was telling her something obvious, as if it would benefit her in the future and teach her something.

He heard her shy moan full of fear, then another, a tad louder as his fingers sank more firmly into her skin. He licked his lips at the sight of the wetness that began to leak slowly from inside her and slapped his hand with a short, rough movement into the space between her thighs.

"− quiet −" He ordered, and she pressed her lips together, stifling whatever wanted to come out of them. Daeron was far away, locked in his room, but he still preferred him not to hear anything, and he didn't have the time or desire to take her upstairs to his bedroom.

This situation, her bent figure and her lovely buttocks pushed up towards him, suited him completely.

"− good girl − see? − it's not that hard −" He murmured pleased with how obedient she was despite the fear and terror from which her whole body was twitching. The confident movements of his fingers were accompanied by the louder and louder click of her moisture, her cheek pressed against the cold wall where her hands were helplessly trying to find support in this position, her eyes closed as if she just wanted to wait it out.

She opened them when she heard the sound of his zipper being opened – her lips pressed together with difficulty as he guided the fat, swollen head of his throbbing cock against her opening, leaning with his free hand against the wall just above her head, trying to force it between her tight folds with the motion of his hips.

"− wider − that's it, there you go −" He exhaled as she opened her thighs a little more and he spread her wide on his cock, feeling her muscles gave him a wonderful squeeze – he sighed loudly, surprised at how pleasurable the sensation was.

"− fuck −" He hissed out, clamping his hands on her buttocks, spreading them like a ripe fruit; she squirmed in discomfort as he forced her to take him deeper inside her, filling her so much that he felt like he was going to rip her skin apart.

"− barely fits −" He scoffed, moving his hips back and forth with a splat of her moisture dripping down her thighs – he heard her begin to pant along with him as he deliberately rubbed against her lower wall just above her very entrance, teasing the spot inside her from which her whole body was quivering.

"− here? − do you want me to fuck you here, little one? −" He gasped as he stretched her skin enough to fit all of him inside her, rooting into her again and again with increasingly brutal thrusts of his hips, digging his fingertips into her buttocks, looking at the spot where their bodies joined, at her muscles clenching against him greedily in panic, sucking him inside.

"− please −" She cried out, squeezing her eyes shut, her lips parted in disbelief at how pleasurable and terrifying the experience was. He sank his hand into her soft, dark hair and tilted her head back, burying his nose in the hot skin of her cheek, speeding up, stretching her weeping folds with a loud, lewd slaps of his thighs against her buttocks.

"− use full sentences −" He commanded, his other hand from her hip slid down between her thighs – she squirmed helplessly as his fingers sank again into her fleshy skin, sticky from her moisture, teasing her clit with circular, slow motions.

"− here − fuck me here, sir −" She mumbled with difficulty in a voice trembling with exertion, her cheeks all red, the beautiful curls of her dark hair clinging to her sweaty face – he felt with satisfaction that her hips began to respond to his eager thrusts.

"− good girl − that's my good girl −" He breathed out with a quiet groan of pleasure, seeing and feeling her walls squeeze his fat cock at his praise – he licked his lips thinking that Alys had never responded to him the way she did, so frightened and aroused at the same time, relying only on his mercy, his goodwill.

"− you understand that this is necessary, don't you? − that you need to be taught a lesson −" He muttered, feeling that he was losing his temper, thrusting into her so fast that he was barely slipping out of her, slamming into her again and again, his cock throbbing with desire, signalling to him that his peak was coming, her wonderful scent filling his lungs.

"− y-yes − yes, I'm sorry −" She mumbled out –he wasn't sure if she was saying what he wanted to hear or if she really believed it herself for a second, but she clamped her eyelids shut and spread her mouth wide, helpless, girlish, sweet moan of relief burst from her throat as she came, sucking and squeezing his cock, soaking it in her moisture. He sighed in relief when, after a few desperate, deep slaps he spilled inside her, feeling the wave of hot pleasure shake his body.

"− fuck − oh, God, little one −" He muttered, their bodies involuntarily moving for a moment longer, wanting to prolong this surprisingly shocking experience, both of them panting embarrassingly loudly, her body trembling all over – if his arm hadn't been holding her around the waist she would have fallen for sure, her legs completely numb.

He looked down at their joined bodies, his half-hard, throbbing manhood sinking into her again and again, all sticky from his semen and her wetness.

He swallowed loudly, sliding out of her slowly, realising now what he had actually done to her – he heard her quiet hiss of discomfort and sigh of relief, her face flushed from exertion and tears.

"− are you all right? −" He asked in a trembling voice, quickly zipping up his trousers, her shaking hands slipping her underwear and shorts back onto her buttocks.

"− y-yes −" She mumbled in embarrassment, horror and disbelief, not looking at him, in some automatic gesture reaching for her trainers, putting them quickly on her feet.

"Come back on Thursday as we agreed before." He muttered, feeling the rapid pounding of his heart and the panic rising inside him, a complete void in his mind.

What had he done?

"I can assure you that you will never see me again." She whispered in a trembling, broken voice, quickly put her backpack on her back and walked out, slamming the door, leaving him with complete silence, remorse and horror.

He pressed his forehead against the wall, hiding his face in his hands, and burst into tears like a small child.

How could he treat a strange, innocent girl like this?

What if she didn't take her pills, what if she got pregnant?

How could he have been so irresponsible?

What if she really does report it to the police?

I'll destroy her, he thought with a bitter certainty that, after a moment, turned again into terror, regret and shame.

He grabbed his phone quickly and dialled her number, wanting to beg her forgiveness, but she didn't answer. He sat down on the couch and drew in the air loudly, devastated, not recognising himself, realising what kind of man he was.

He laughed desperately, shaking his head, thinking with painful amusement how well she had judged him.

He didn't even have to pretend.

He was like Frollo.

_____

Author's note: Many of you may believe that Quasimodo is the best and most worthy of imitation character, not Phoebus, and this is true when it comes to the book, but I assume that if anything, Daeron at this age has only seen a Disney fairy tale, in which Phoebus is a handsome man with a noble heart. The whole idea of this scene, in which the heroine says that he will be her Phoebus and she will be his Esmeralda, is that Daeron wants to see himself not only as a person with a disability, but as someone handsome, a warrior that a woman could love one day. It's easy to understand how children's minds work and why his works this way, and his "Esmeralda" only wants to help him become the person he wants to be and encourages him not to give up on these dreams and this self-image.

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

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[crazyvaleska]

Listen To Me | Jerome Valeska x GN! Reader

summary: you are jerome's psychiatrist at arkham asylum and after years of treating him he opens up about his childhood trauma

genre: angst

word count: 8479 (it's a long one folks! so get comfortable and grab ur popcorn & blanket! and tissues.)

warnings: cursing, self harm, mention of sexual assault & domestic abuse, mention of death & suicide, just a lot of angst in general. read at your own risk, you've been warned.

a/n: i started writing this back in august 2022 and finished it just now. been adding small paragraphs to this story every now&then. some paragraphs were written days apart while others were written weeks apart. i'm writing this bc i feel like there aren't many angsty stories with jerome. imo jerome isn't evil but broken. also having read his diary added up a lot to his character as it's pretty depressing. perhaps everyone has a different version of a certain character. here's my version of jerome.

also i got a tiny bit inspired by the harleen graphic novel and the joker movie for this !!

the playlist i was listening to while writing this: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5E2lk49zurRTAaHq3Nz7FQ?si=7TQxYHDsQ0ypPYkIvlLCpw&utm_source=copy-link

jerome's thoughts are written like this btw!

enjoy! (or don't.)

A huge amount of people would say it is impossible to become a psychiatrist at 18. That must mean they've never been to Gotham City. Here anything is possible. Therefore, you had just graduated medical highschool when you were offered a job at Arkham Asylum and you had no choice but to take it. You were aware of the risks of working in a place surrounded by criminally insane lunatics, but you didn't really have another option. You needed a job. Besides, taking risks never ever scared you. Though many viewed Arkham as a spooky place, to you it was interesting. Treating mentally unwell criminals was challenging because you liked helping people, no matter who they were.

What you didn't know was that one of the patients you would have to treat was none other than the infamous Jerome Valeska himself, probably one of the most demented and wicked being Gotham City had ever know.

Yet, you thought his character was rather fascinating. After all, you had known Jerome for years.

Jerome Valeska. How do you even begin to explain Jerome Valeska?

You first met him right after he killed his mother, the first time he was in prison. Before he died. Before he was an infamous murderer. And you had to admit, he did become more intimidating as years passed by.

There was nothing out of the ordinary about him at first, same old story about the son committing matricide. Though, he never told you the entire story. You noticed he was uncomfortable and you didn't want to push, everybody had their boundaries and you respected that.

If you had to describe in one word the way he was acting in his firsts therapy sessions, you would use the word "flirty". Sort of. A mix of charisma and inappropriate jokes.

He told you he didn't plan on killing anyone else, claiming that the murdering of his mother was something personal. For some reason, you chose to believe him. Until Theo Galavan happened. It was like the Jerome you once knew had completely vanished. He was the same and a different person at the same time. You almost felt sorry for him. But then again, you weren't supposed to get attached to your patients. Jerome was charming and all, but he probably didn't feel the same way you did. He was just a kid after all, and so were you. Both 18. The only difference was, you were trying to cure insanity while he was trying to spread it.

A few days later he died. Actually, was murdered. Poor thing, you thought. You wished you had more time to know him. You wished you could've helped him. You knew small parts about him but not his entire story.

You had hoped you would forget him as time flew by, but you didn't. His evil crackle never left your dreams. It was always there. You could hear it all the time, as if he was trying to reach you. It was torturing you. Yet pleasant at the same time. You missed him, truth be told. But you knew he was in a better place now. Or so you thought.

That was until he was resurrected. Being honest, you weren't exactly surprised. This was Gotham City, after all. Everything was possible in Gotham. The actual shock was seeing him faceless and unconscious. You wondered how much strength does one require in order to be able to staple their face without passing out. Jerome's pain tolerance was so high, it concerned you.

By the time the ginger maniac was sent back to the Asylum, his face had been attached back to its place. He was hideously scarred now, wearing a permanent disturbingly bright smile. Although, to you he looked fine. Somehow attractive. You weren't sure why. Maybe it was simply your questionable taste in men. At the same time, he was much more intimidating now, much more grown. And as a result to him dying by being stabbed in the throat, his voice had also changed. It sounded more threatening now.

"It's good to have you back, Jerome!" you said in his first therapy appointment of the year, a warm, kind smile on painted on your lips.

His reply came out natural, "Well, at least someone missed me." but his face was expressionless and emotionless, and his voice numb, as if he had lost his spark.

To most, he was simply just out of his mind, a low-life criminal, but you felt there was more than that. You desperately wanted to know what made him the way he was, what made him turn to a life of crime, because you knew no one was born evil, not even in a city like Gotham (though he wasn't born in Gotham) it was usually the environment that could cause one's insanity. And you could see it in his eyes: he wasn't born bad. He was shaped evil, but not born evil. But then again, anyone could go insane with just one bad day.

Jerome was very charismatic, he could get anyone do whatever he wanted. Nevertheless, he was an amazing liar, you couldn't ever tell when he was speaking the truth and when he wasn't. He didn't seem to care about the way others felt and showed lack of remorse, he was impulsive and manipulative, deceitful and reckless. He was extremely narcissistic and showed lack of empathy towards others, and you had diagnosed him with Psychopathy Cluster B Personality Disorders and Schizophrenia. The ginger was on different medications. Sometimes he didn't take them, other times he did and not only his, but others' as well . You had told him multiple times how that was no good for him, but he never listened.

The thing about Jerome was, you never knew what he would be like in your therapy sessions. Sometimes you felt like you knew Jerome, but did you really? Oftentimes his behavior was passive aggressive, other times he would crack up jokes and you actually enjoyed his company, getting lost into his mesmerizing hazel eyes, as if you two were actually friends. Most of the times he just stayed quiet though, especially if you mentioned his family. Sure, he had no problem talking about killing innocents but once you switched the subject to the murdering of his mom, for example, he would tilt his head and pretend he didn't hear you or just say the same old story about her being mean, but you suspected it wasn't just that, you could see it in his eyes that part of him was still... hurt? His eyes spoke volumes. Although he always tried to hide it by pretending to be a God, deep down he hated himself. But of course he didn't want anyone else to know that, he didn't want to be seen as weak. Not anymore. He knew better than that. You noticed this thing about Jerome, he tried to act unbothered all the time but he always did this head tilting thing whenever he felt uncomfortable. Sure, Jerome was always surrounded by people, mostly his followers, but being around people doesn't mean you actually trust them. And you couldn't blame him for having trust issues considering he was stabbed to death by the only person he ever trusted. You could only imagine the feeling of betrayal he felt. That must have been traumatizing, but he had never ever addressed it.

One rainy Thursday the young Valeska told you he was upset because there wasn't any pudding left at the cafeteria. So the following day, Friday, you came up with an idea that could get you killed, but it was worth a try.

It was getting dark, your shift was over and you were supposed to go home. But instead of heading towards the Asylum's exit you found yourself walking towards its core, towards one certain inmate's cell, inmate E-146's cell: Jerome's cell. You would be lying if you said you weren't nervous, because you were. You didn't have anything to defend yourself on you. If anything, you were aware you were walking towards something that could be mean your sudden death.

You did have to pay bribe to the prison wardens that guarded his cell. They warned you about the homicidal redhead, but you liked to believe you weren't scared of him. To you, Jerome wasn't scary-looking. What really scared you was his mind. You had read his criminal record thus you knew what he was capable of. Even though you tried to tell yourself he won't hurt you, truth was you had no idea what he'd do or say, he was unpredictable.

First time you stepped foot in his cell was an experience you weren't going to forget anytime soon. The room was smaller than you though it would be. Not that you were expecting any kind of luxury. But this was worse than anything you had ever imagined. The first thing you noticed was the extremely low temperature, it was bone-chilling. No wonder why Jerome sounded sick all the time. Four gray walls and a dark ceiling that looked like it could collapse over you at any given moment. A bed for one person that was placed next to a prison porthole and near it a small, cheap table with an old chair in front of it. The smell wasn't very welcoming either, you thought rats were the only thing missing from the picture.

Jerome didn't notice you initially, he was busy writing in something that appeared to be a notebook. You cleared your throat loudly, which made him jump. You caught him off guard, quite literally. He looked equally shocked and confused to see you.

"Whatcha doing here, doc?" the redhead asked as he sat up. He placed the pencil down and closed his book, then took small steps closer to you. Only now that you were both standing up at the same time you noticed how tall he actually was. In the therapy room, his arms were always folded together in a shinny white straightjacket that prevented him from harming the doctor before him. You had actually never seen Jerome with his arms free so close to you before. He was wearing his stripped prison uniform instead of that tight straightjacket and you could tell he was way more muscular than you thought, his hands were enormous, he could knock you out in a second. His looks should've alarmed you but for some reason they didn't. Actually, you were happy to see his body looked healthy. Everybody said he looked like a nightmare, but to you he was the opposite. You shook your head quickly trying not to think of that or anything potentially inappropriate.

You hitched your breath nervously as you took a few steps back. "I told you already, you can call me Y/N... Uh, yesterday you said there wasn't any pudding left for you so I thought I would...um ... I... well," you stuttered while searching for something in your bag. The man raised an eyebrow but stayed silent. You reached your hand out, holding a bowl of chocolate pudding, "I-I... I made it myself! And I paid the guards to leave..." you said in a low murmur.

The unsurety in your voice didn't go unnoticed and it made Jerome grin. He walked even closer to you and crossed his arms while nodding, "That's so brave of you, Y/N! But you do realize I could poke your eyeballs out and squash you like a bug right about.... now!" he hissed. The next thing you felt was your chin being lifted up by his gloved hand, holding it in a tight grip, forcing you to face him. You avoided looking directly into his eyes so you just stared at his hand. Unfortunately for you, that seemed to bother him, "My eyes are up here," he used his free hand to point at his eyes.

The fabric of his white glove was soft but his touch was aggressive and harsh, the clutch on your chin was hard, "... I just... I just came here to give you this, nothing more." At first, Jerome was very sceptical, not believing any of it. He even thought the pudding was poisoned and insisted on you having a try before he did. The rest was history.

That happened approximately one year prior. You had spent the last 12 months seeing Jerome 2 times a week: one time during his therapy appointments every Thursday, the other time every Friday night, when most of the Asylum's staff had gone home. You had stolen they keys to his prison cell and no one knew about your late at night meetings with the clown prince.

The first times everything was pretty awkward, Jerome used to search your bag and pockets for any sharp objects that you could potentially use against him. But with time he stopped doing that. Approximately after 6 months.

You mostly brought him food, especially sweets, Jerome loved candies but he wasn't allowed to eat those in prison. Sometimes you even played cards with him and he would win every game, the boy knew how to play the jokers, that's certain. He did make inappropriate jokes from time to time, but nothing that made you too uncomfortable. He never touched you or anything like that. Everything stayed platonic.

One time you attached a colorful self-made bracelet to his wrist. You had a similar one on yours. Jerome pretend he didn't like it, telling you that friendship jewels were a waste, but truth be told, he liked it, he wore it all the time, he liked playing with it beads. Of course, he made sure it stayed hidden underneath his sleeve. He didn't want anyone else to see him like that. He had a reputation to uphold. Thus sometimes he would threaten your life in a playful manner just because he was Jerome Valeska.

You had also noticed the ginger was great at arts and crafts so you brought him crayons. Lots of them. The previous week you even brought him a scissors after he had begged you to for weeks. He promised he wasn't going to hurt other prisoners with it. He was using those to draw and decorate his diary. You knew he had a personal journal that he had never showed you. But you were cool with that. Though you wished he could open up to you, you didn't want to push, you wanted him to talk to you because he wanted to, not because he had to. All you knew was that you desperately wanted to help him get better. You didn't feel that way about other patients. Obviously, you wanted to help them too, but with Jerome it was different. Not that you would ever admit it out loud, but you had grown some sort of crush on the maniac. You knew how wrong that was, but you couldn't help the way he made you feel everytime his eyes met yours or when he smiled at you. You came to the realization that Jerome wasn't half as bad unless he was surrounded by other loonies or by people he despised. He was quite chill aside from his maniacally laughter.

Although Jerome didn't own a watch, he simply knew what time you were supposed to show up. In fact, he had actually grown to like your little visits. At first he found all of this annoying and irritating, but with time he changed his mind. You weren't so bad after all. Actually, he was waiting impatiently each of your visits. You were nice to him. Not a lot of people were nice to him. Nobody, actually. Just you.

Therefore you being late one certain night didn't go unnoticed. Strange, Jerome thought at first. You had never been late before. Was this all? Did you spend all that time with him only to leave him like that? Did you replace him with another patient? Did you get bored of him? Did something bad happen to you, perhaps?

Jerome shook his head. He didn't like to picture you dead. Why was that? He loved everything about death and killing, blood and gore. Why did it bother him now? He promised himself he wouldn't get attached. No, no, Jerome Valeska didn't give a shit about anyone. He was heartless. A monster. Everybody said so, so then it must be true. So what if you died? Who cared? Not him, that's for sure. Yeah.

But then, why had he been walking circles in his small cell for minutes? Why was he breathing heavier and why did he have an awful gut feeling? And now how did he find himself in this position again? Sitting on his bed, facing the wall with teary eyes, clinching his fists anxiously and twiddling his trembling thumbs. There were drops of dark red blood on his already dirty mattress. Drops of blood between the beads of his bracelet. When did that happen? He could vividly remember when he started pressing the scissors down his wrist. It all happened so fast. He didn't even apply much pressure and yet he had managed to draw enough blood to cover his fingertips. How did he end up like this? Like a sobbing mess. Why did you do this to him? Why did you give him hope? He should've known better. Humans are deceitful beings. They lie and they never keep their promises. One day they love you, the next they don't need you anymore. So he really didn't learn anything from trusting Theo Galavan after all. He remembered it as clear as day. He thought he could finally be happy when Theo came along, gave him a proper bed and proper clothes. He was like the father he never had. But then his life flashed before his eyes as he dropped dead by the hand of the one man he thought was trustworthy.

Oh, dear ol' Jerome. Getting attached to the first person to treat him like a normal human being again. So all those times you took care of him were all on act. Of course. Why was he so stupid? Stupid enough to think anyone would ever care about him. Of course it was all a lie. He hated you. This was pathetic. Everyone was pathetic. Crying was pathetic. Crying was for the weak. Jerome wasn't weak. Not anymore. But what if, perhaps, you weren't even real? What if he had been imagining you the whole time? After all, it was all too good to be true. But maybe that's just the way life is: it hits you harder than a train truck, then you feel good for a while because you start doing things that distract you from how you truly feel, killings in his case. But then you realize you weren't ever really happy, just delusional and that makes you depressed again. It's like a never ending loop.

The boy shivered at his own thoughts. So many questions at the same time. His mind was suffocating him. But he liked it, didn't he? Or maybe did he just trick himself into thinking he liked it? He liked being sick, right? Who was he without his sickness? Pills. He needed more pills. The pills were never enough. If only he had enough pills to...

His train of thoughts was interrupted by the very familiar sound of his creaky door being unlocked then opened. Jerome knew this could mean one thing. He quickly wiped his teary eyes with his knuckles then clothed his fingers with his gloves. He cleared his throat, "Where were you?" he asked, his voice harsher than ever. He didn't want you to see him vulnerable. He tried to hide it. He didn't want to admit not even to himself he was somewhat worried. But, in fact, he had grown very fond of you. He wasn't sure why, he wasn't sure what he felt towards you. There's a very thin line between love and obsession. All in all, part of him was relieved once he heard your voice.

"I'm sorry, Jerome. I had some things to take care of. Things that involve you, actually," you closed the door behind you and took a few steps forward.

The last sentence got Jerome's attention so naturally he turned his head around to look at you. His stare was so intense it seemed like he was staring directly into your soul. His hazel eyes were so beautiful yet so terrifying, you couldn't stare at them for too long. The dark circles under his eyes were darker than ever and you wondered if he ever slept. It was your job to help him get better but it seemed that he was getting worse everyday, like he was losing himself therefore you were failing. But you had to pull him out of his misery. You had to.

"You threatened Oswald Cobblepot," Jerome couldn't help but snicker proudly at your remark before you could continue your sentence "And you also took his medicine. How many times have I told you that taking meds you don't need only makes things worse?" you paused but the boy didn't reply. He knew it was bad, he just couldn't help himself. You sighed "They want to change your therapist, Jerome. They don't think I'm doing a good job with you."

Jerome's face dropped, "As in you'll be replaced?" he asked and you nodded. No, this wasn't possible. You were lying, you had to be. First you're late, now this. The redhead jumped out of his bed and walked up to you, "You're lying."

"Jerome-" you started but he didn't let you finish.

"Don't you dare to Jerome me. You're an hour late and now you're telling me you wanna get rid of me?" his tone went from numb to mad in a matter of seconds.

"I'm so sorry for the waiting, I'll try my best to keep you. I promise! Cross my heart and hope to die."

That only made Jerome crackle in an ironic manner "Oh please, Y/N. Don't make promises you know you can't keep. Empty promises. You're growing tired of me. It's funny, actually. I think this may be just my luck! Jeremiah promised he wouldn't leave too, but he did anyhow. And now you."

"Who's Jeremiah? I don't know what you're talking abo..." you felt like you couldn't breathe as panick took control over your body, "...why is there blood on your gloves?"

Shit, Jerome thought. "It's paint," he smiled but you knew he was lying the moment he tried to change the subject "Jeremiah's an old acquaintance, if you will."

"I never brought you paint..." you murmured. Then you remembered what you did bring him. The scissors. "You promised you won't hurt anyone with it..." you whispered.

Jerome shrugged, "I promised I wouldn't other inmates. I never promised I wouldn't hurt... myself...!"

Your eyes opened widely at the sudden realization. You covered your mouth with your fingers and your heart was beating impossibly fast while tears were filling your eyes. It was only now that you noticed his slightly puffy eyes too, "I'm so sorry... Jerome... oh God..." you muttered. He didn't look at you until he felt your hand on his.

Jerome hesitated to speak at first, "Oh, y'know... the scissors just slipped. I'm fine, really. No need to worry about me. If anything, I like bleeding out."

You knew that wasn't true. "I'm gonna get the doctor... we need to get it patched up."

"Then they'll know you're here."

"I don't care. I'll probably lose my job anyway. You hurt yourself, Jerome. You could get an infection. Fuck, I was supposed to help you get better but I didn't do shit! Now you're bleeding and it's all because of me-" you were cut off by Jerome's gloved hand covering your mouth.

"Shh. I'm fine, Y/N. It's not that serious. It's just... I don't feel safe when my scars are healed. I need to bleed to calm myself. It's like a part of me. It's my biggest comfort."

You tried to mumble something underneath his hand which made him frown, "I don't need your pity, Y/N. You're trying to weaken me, it won't work," he moved his hand, giving you the chance to speak.

"Please, Jerome. I care about you! I won't let you hurt yourself any longer!" you cried out. It was true. You would've done anything for him and it hurt you knowing he was harming himself. He thought he had it all under control but clearly he didn't. You were scared of what he could do to himself next. You couldn't just watch him destroying himself knowing you could've helped him.

Jerome shook his head repeatedly and covered his ears with his plams while circling around the room, mumbling things to himself. Eventually, his voice got louder and louder, "NO NO NO NO NO! No, you don't, stop saying that! Cut the bullshit, Y/N! You don't care about me, no one does! Jerome has no one, Jerome's all alone! It's how it's always been. It's how it's always gonna be. What the fuck do you want from me? Look at me! I have wanted to die for as long as I can remember. And guess what? When I finally did some jerks thought it'd be funny to bring me back to this shitty life! You think you understand me, but you don't! You can't save me, you can't fix me! What have you done to me? You cracked me! Just leave me alone! Leave me alone! LEAVE. ME. ALONE!!!" he yelled as he shed a single tear.

His face turned red from all the rage and you could swear he was gonna kill you at that very moment, but he didn't. Instead, his body collapsed on the ground. He was hugging his knees while staring at the floor, with his back pressed against the cold wall. You had no clue what just happened but he looked defenseless, practically harmless right now. You knew this was risky, but you kneeled next to him then reached out your hand and caressed his shoulders which caused him to look at you. You didn't see a psychopath in his eyes anymore, just a frightened child. That wasn't the ginger maniac everybody feared. That was a poor boy stuck in his traumatic past.

"Let it out, Jerome. This is why I came here, so we could talk like 2 human beings. Help me understand you. I know I can't take your pain away, but you can talk to me," you whispered.

"I'm not a human being. I'm a monster, can't you see? Everybody fears me. I'm the monster parents tell their children about," he muttered quietly. Usually he said that proudly, but now it sounded as if he was ashamed, which was very out of character. What he felt at that very moment was confusion.

"You're not a monster, Jerome. I have this feeling that... you're misunderstood, like no one ever listened to what you had to say. I am here to listen and I promise I won't laugh or judge. But if you hold everything inside you it's only gonna get worse... Let it all out, please." you spoke in a soft murmur.

"I don't even know.... what I am supposed to say," Jerome sobbed.

"Anything that comes to mind, that upsets you, that you wanna get off your chest. What is that one thought that won't let you get rest at night? The things you always wanted to say but nobody ever listened to. The things you always tried to forget because it all hurt too much. I can see the depth and complicity of your character, Jerome. You're not evil. Your past is haunting you, isn't it? I can see it in your face, it was rough. So please, I just want to help you. And I won't tell anyone, you have my word."

The ginger glanced at you with furrowed brows, trying to keep track of his thoughts. He felt something he hadn't felt in a very, very long time. He felt helpless and he didn't know why. He didn't know why he suddenly no longer felt in control. Was it because you were the first person to actually look at his wounds concerned instead of laughing? Because you were willing to actually listen to what he had to say? No one had ever told him that before. Except for you. But he couldn't bring himself to entirely believe anyone could actually care about him. His chest was hurting and his heart was aching. He was tired of hiding.

"... okay, I'll tell you everything," he nodded his head eventually, "but I'll never tell this story again so you better be all ears."

You nodded while caressing his once-so-soft-cheek slowly. Initially he shuddered, then he closed his eyes and leaned in your touch, giving you permission to carry on. Tracing your fingers on his cold pale skin made you feel his every scar, but his scars didn't scare you, they never did. You could tell he wasn't used to this kind of stuff. He wasn't used to people treating him like a normal human being. He wasn't used to being touched unless the touch was meant to harm him. He hadn't even started talking but you just knew something terrible was about to come out of his mouth.

The man took a deep breath. He knew that once he started speaking he wouldn't be able to stop. He had been holding all in for so long, it all came out like word vomit.

"Jeremiah is my twin brother. He was always mother's favorite. Mother. Can I even call her that? No, she was never my mom. Lila Valeska never loved me. She never treated me like her son, not even when I was a baby. She had only one son and that was Jeremiah. I was just... there. Like a nephew she had to take care of or something. But not a son, no. She always said I ruined her life. Yeah, like it's my fault she had unprotected sex. But I could never understand why she praised Jeremiah all the time. What was so special about him? What was he doing so much better than me to get that kind of appreciation from mama when we were just 5 years old? I can only remember he was into maths and puzzles and that kind of shits from a young age. He pissed the hell out of me. But I didn't hate him. I mean, at the end of the day he was still my brother. And sometimes he would hold me while that whore was busy banging clowns the next room, assuring me that everything would be alright and that mother didn't actually hate me, promising me that one day we'll get out of the circus and live our best lives. What a dirty little liar...! And to think I actually used to believe his empty promises... Until he turned his back on me."

Jerome paused. His eyes were now filled with anger, you could tell he didn't like his brother much. Then he continued.

"It happened once we turned 7. Lila had hit me multiple times and I don't even remember what was the reason, but then again, it's not like she ever needed a reason to hurt me. Before this it was usually just slaps, but this time it was a proper beating. The sadness mixed with anger I felt at the time were too much to handle for a little boy. I had to somehow let it out, y'know? So... I started mutilating small animals. Soon I grew an interest in murdering them. And it felt... therapeutic. I know I should feel ashamed of this, but I don't. I never did. Hell, I even pretended they were her because I knew I wasn't strong enough to actually hurt her back. How fucked up I must've been to behave this way at 7, right? But things got complicated when Jeremiah found out. He said," Jerome talked in two different thin voices the next parts:

"... ' I understand your anger, 'Romie! I think it's quite interesting, really! '

I actually believed him and replied happily ' You think so, 'Miah? But please don't tell 'ma, she'll get really mad at me! My cheek still hurts from the last slap she gave me! '

' I would never! She hits me too sometimes, you know. But I don't know why she's so mean to you all the time! '..."

Jerome cleared his throat and went back to his usual tone "Well, he kept his promise, kinda. He didn't tell our mother but he told uncle Zach ―and let me tell you this― he was the WORST. Such cruelness in one man. He used to cook food for the other circus members, but he was an ex prisoner, spent years in jail for robbery and rape. Yeah, that's my fucked up uncle. He was a cook and yet I was always left to starve. Mind you but I used to be underweight 'cause of that.

Anyway ...! Dear ol' Zach thought I had gone psychopathic when little 'Miah showed him the dead animals' corpses, so he made sure he worked me over. And, of course, Lila made sure of that as well. And as if those injuries weren't enough, Jeremiah saw this as a perfect opportunity to leave the circus. He started spreading rumors about me kickin' and punching him, feeding my mom and uncle with funny stories about me threatening his life, when the truth is I never touched a hair of his. For him, those were the stories that were gonna get him out of that damned place we so called home. For me, those were the stories that were gonna ruin my life. Even though I tried to defend myself they never believed me, because after all I was the animal abuser while he was the perfect innocent son, with his little nerdy hamster glasses and fancy books and puzzles. And let's just say, it didn't end well for me when he would randomly bring up something that didn't even happen. He had totally brainwashed them and I was lucky if I could get away with just a slap or two. But they didn't abuse me just physically... verbally as well. The amount of times I heard them planning my murdering were countless. And maybe they should have done it. Maybe they should have murdered me. Instead, they used to remind me every single day that I was such a heartless psycho monster who's gonna cause nothing but disaster. Well, I guess they weren't exactly wrong with that one. I mean, just look at me now..." he narrowed his eyes.

"Nobody ever stood up for me. Nobody cared. Nobody. They always managed to cover it all up, they always told me to smile once they were done. I was known as Haly's Circus little sociopath. And Jeremiah? They'd always make sure he was treated right, that he got the best stuff, while I could be freezing at night and they wouldn't even notice.

On our 9th birthday our uncle decided to take Jeremiah to the city away from me so he could celebrate his birthday properly and left me with my mom and her partner at the time. The got drunk and had sex all day, not caring that I was in the same room, beating the shit out of me afterwards. And when I had finally managed to get out of that hell of a trailer, my father ―I didn't know he was my father back then, but he knew I was his son― didn't even try to comfort me, he simply told me to suck it up because nobody cared. And he was right. This world indeed doesn't care about me or anyone else. But for a child? Damn, that hurt. And I suppose it's even sadder now knowing he was my dad...

Moving on, by the time we were almost 10 his lies got worse and worse, and so were the beatings. According to him I had tried to poison him and to light his bed on fire. One time he injured his knee when he fell on the ground, but later lied about me pushing him down the stairs. But the last straw was when he lied about me holding a cake knife to his throat on our 10th birthday. My uncle almost broke my ribs for that and my mom repeatedly kicked my stomach with her legs. Honestly, I can't really remember that day. All I know is that they decided it would be the best if uncle Zach took Jeremiah away while I was asleep. And I'm not gonna lie, I was pleased when I saw they both left, but little did I know that it was only gonna get worse for me.

Haly's Circus is a nightmare dressed like a daydream. A lot of fucked up things happened there. I hated that place. And with Jeremiah gone, she started drinking more and more, and got more aggressive. She got pissed at every little thing I did and made sure I received punishment. Did I forget to do that dishes? She'd kick me. Forgot to take out the trash? She'd slap me across the face. Didn't feed her snake? She'd punch me. Was breathing too heavily for her liking or my existence simply bothered her? She'd beat me till my vision was blurry or till I coughed in my own blood. I did try to get help from the cops, but guess what! They didn't give 2 shits! Ya see, the system is so corrupt they don't care unless someone's been murdered. They made fun of me and I understood no one could ever save me, I was the only one that could free myself from the pain."

You stood quiet when Jerome removed his gloves. You hadn't seen his hands unclothed in a very, very long time. Last time you saw his bare fingers was before he died. His veins were more noticeable now, among with multiple half healed blueish bruises he had probably given himself. Seeing Jerome without his gloves felt like him breaking a wall between the two of you. Like he trusted you. Like he trusted you enough for you to see him at his lowest. He needed to trust you enough to tell you everything. The scarred man was silent for a brief moment, trying to find the right words to describe the next part of his story that made you feel like throwing up.

"On my 14th birthday one of Lila's hookers...how do I say this... one of her hookers touched me, Y/N. Like, parts he shouldn't have touched... And... she was there, watching. She didn't do anything to stop him, she didn't even try. I was crying and screaming and begging her to make him stop. She just laughed. Her awful witch-like laugh followed by her favorite line: ' shut up! boys don't cry! '. And afterwards she just left with him for the night and before that she told me to smile. Smile. I felt so embarrassed and ashamed. I felt like I couldn't breathe. I couldn't feel my body. The only thing I could feel were his hands all over my body... To put it into words, I felt worthless and helpless. Smile," Jerome smiled weakly through the tears as he repeated his mother's words, hugging his own body, "Smile. I was smiling that night. I was smiling when I tried to kill myself. It was all too much, I couldn't handle it. My life was a living Hell I started to believe Hell itself couldn't be that bad. So... I just took a bunch of her pills and I thought that was it, I thought I was finally gonna die. I smiled because I thought everything was finally going to end. Sadly, I survived. After taking the pills I dropped down to my knees and then... I don't know. I can't really remember anything except the fact I woke up with a terrible headache. Did she notice? Nope. Did those pills have had an effect on me? Absolutely.

I didn't have anyone to comfort me anymore. Not that Jeremiah was ever a great comfort, but it was better than nothing. I didn't have any friends, 'cause who would wanna befriend the freak who tried to murder his twin and massacred tons of pets? And if anyone tried to get close to me I would push them away. Literally. Push them. Because what was the point in denying my violent urges? Everybody thought I was the villain already anyway."

Jerome paused to blow his nose into a handkerchief you handed him. You were at loss of words. This was a lot to process and Jerome's voice was now shaky. It was painful to hear his life story, it was painful to look at him now, to stare at the helplessness in his eyes. Tough people always have the most heartbreaking pasts.

"I used to cry myself to sleep every night, but I barely managed to fall asleep knowing that she could strangulate me when her snake in my sleep, and I low-key hoped she would so my suffering could end already. But when I did manage to fall asleep I ended up getting a... What was that called? Oh yeah, sleep paralysis. She was the demon suffocating me. Even now... I can't ever properly fall asleep. I'm always half awake. Actually forget I said that... Stupid! stupid...." he cried while gripping on his ginger hairs, scratching his thin pale skin with his sharp nails.

"Jerome," you whispered and took his hands in yours, "it's not stupid. Your emotions are valid. Please, carry on."

The boy nodded and did as you said, "At some point I just stopped talking because my body was hurting so much. I started isolating myself from everything and everyone. Because you see, people like me, we're put in this world for one thing: to suffer. The only thing that made the pain go away for a while was the thought of torturing her, cutting her open and feeding her snake with her organs then bathing in a pool of her blood and maybe sending her bones to Jeremiah. All I know is that I was so sick and tired of her calling me names and spitting on my face, beating me up till I bled, abusing me, banging my head against the wall, ripping my hairs off, punching me with her cold fists, slapping and pinching my skin, throwing empty alcohol bottles at me and kicking my bones. And when she was done with beating me, she'd always call over one of her sex partners to have some fun. I was tired of having to hear her moans as she was getting railed the next room. But I knew better than disturbing her, because if I did she'd invite her lovers to beat me too... or worse. I just had to keep quiet because if I behaved she'd leave me alone for a day or two.

But in time I got used to it. The beatings and all. It didn't even hurt that much anymore. The psychical wounds healed eventually, but the emotionally ones were always there. She didn't even need to get physical, her words were enough to torture me, they were like poisson. Her words cut deeper than a knife. When she wasn't the one hurting me I was hurting myself. That's so messed up, I know. But what isn't messed up about me or my life? I just couldn't help it. I had grown addicted to watching myself bleed. It's like... that was my only comfort. My sadness, my pain... Bugs. There were bugs on my skin, crawling on it. One second they were there, the next they weren't. I had to peel some of my skin off just to make sure. But I liked it. I think. It looked pretty. Such a pretty shade of red...! I could've stared at it for hours. Don't know if I was high or if I just had lost touch with reality. Or maybe both.

I just wished she would just kill me already and be done with it, 'cause it was better to be dead than to be alive and suffering. I just wished that everything would go quiet once and for all. My mind was like a prison I could not escape. My mind was the darkest place. The negative thoughts, they were always there. The voices telling me to do horrible things to myself. People screaming. A thousand voices howling in my head all the time. Dead people. I saw dead people everywhere. I couldn't control it.

Nobody cared about me, so who would've noticed if one day I just disappeared from this world? If one day I just stopped breathing? Definitely not her. If anything, she'd beat my corpse. I mean, she didn't even notice my first attempt.

That's what I told myself as I tried to slash my veins. But then I heard it," his face suddenly lit up, "That voice. The voice. The only comfort I ever had was that voice in the back of my head. That voice that grew louder as the years passed by. That voice that was giving me hope saying ' your day will come, your revenge will come, you just have to be patient '. And I had done my waiting. All the suffering, all the abuse I was forced to endure were about the end. I wasn't gonna let her win. Little did that whore know her beatings gave me strength and a high pain tolerance. Suddenly, all the fear I ever felt towards her turned into hatred and anger. She was going to pay for everything she had ever made me go through. People call me insane but they don't know my insanity gave me strength to save myself from that Hell I used to call home.

So, by the time I was 16 I had already started planning her murdering. I started working out and made better meals for myself so I'd be sure I was stronger than she was. I wanted to no longer be skinny. I had also made the perfect plan to kill her and get away with it.

So on my 18th birthday, like a birthday gift for myself, if you will, I grabbed an axe and chopped her off, hitting her repeatedly with it, digging it up and down into her skin. The first stab was the hardest one, but once I saw blood drawing out I just couldn't stop. I laughed as I did. Seeing her like that, lifeless and all covered in blood made me shiver in a good way. It was like feeling a brand new emotion. I was...happy? Entertained? I had finally given in that voice, I was finally free! That day I promised myself that I would come after my brother and uncle too, they also needed to pay for the way they'd treated me. And after that I'd be finally free to kill myself... I know how fucked up that sounds, but now that you know what they put me through, I hope you understand why I had to do it. There was no other way. One of us had to go. I killed her because she deserved it, self defense really. You get it, right? Tell me you get it, please."

You nodded while massaging his thumbs. His eyes were red and so were yours. You were both crying. Jerome couldn't believe he just told you all of that. He had never told anyone about any of that before. Did he say too much? Did you not want to be near him anymore?

"Jerome, I don't even know where to begin... you are such a strong person, really. You didn't deserve what happened to you. It wasn't your fault. You were just a child, none of this was your fault. No one ever treated you like a human being. No one ever gave you a chance. It's like you were forced to be evil, you didn't have a choice. They made you evil. They turned you into the villain. Of course you snapped eventually. I can't blame you. I would've done the same if I were in your shoes. No one ever gave you the chance to tell the full story. I wish I could take it away. All the pain, all the suffering... Oh, Jerome... I can't even begin to describe how bad I feel for you. Your heart has endured way too much at a way too young age. It's not you who is the monster. It's them. You had and have every right to kill them, I'll even help you. Jerome... I'm so proud of you for staying alive. Jerome, please remember that you matter. You matter to me. I see you, Jerome. I see you for who you are. Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are? You are a very, very handsome boy."

"Even with the scars?"Jerome smiled, his eyes puffy from crying. Not a threatening or disturbing smile. A genuine smile that made you smile too.

"Absolutely. Your scars just show how strong you are. Your scars make you prettier. I myself ain't a strong person but... I won't let anyone hurt you anymore, you've been through enough. And I won't let you hurt yourself either. Because I care. And you can trust me with anything, Jerome. Let me be the one person that makes you feel like home. Please." you got lost in his gaze. Words weren't enough to express what you felt. So you just hugged him. A gentle, loving hug. Jerome wasn't a touchy person in general, but he gave in and hurled himself into your warm embrace. Soon he was holding you so close to him like he was never going to let you go. Then he cried more. And louder. He cried on your shoulder and you patted his back. This was all new to him, he was still confused by the way he was acting. But it just felt right. He felt safe at last. He wondered if you were an angel sent from Heaven to rescue him. You scooped him up in your arms. Yours arms were tight around him, his head on your chest. He needed this. He needed to feel okay. He needed feel loved and accepted. You held each other for so long you could feel each other's breathing, and you weren't going to let go of each other anytime soon.

"Thank you for listening."

[paleprincessturtle]

The Sorrow of Tomorrow

Part 1

Note: I actually got this idea from a request. I won't attach the request here because I don't wanna spoil the ending as I'm making this into a 2 parts story. But I will definitely attach the request once I finish the second part.

Pairing: Harvey Specter x Female Character (she) Warning: Curse words, blood.

It was a little over a year ago when Jessica called Harvey to his office. Her face was unreadable as usual. “You wanted to see me?” Jessica nodded and motioned for him to sit on the couch. “Here,” Jessica handed him the blue folder. Harvey flipped it open and on the first page, he sighed. “You know I’m not a divorce attorney. I took Esther’s case because of Louis,” he closed the folder and placed it on the table. “She’s a close friend of mine,” Jessica said quietly. “This divorce is messy, I need you on it.” Jessica gave her a hard look. “I helped Esther with her divorce because she’s Louis’ sister. I won’t handle another divorce case, Jessica,” Harvey said, jaw clenched. Harvey was ready to leave when Jessica said, “She was my shrink,” Jessica said quietly as if someone might hear. “Psychiatrist?” “Psychologist.”

“How was she your psychologist and a close friend of yours? Us and them, we have the same code.” Jessica nodded, ready to explain herself. “It started around a year ago. I couldn’t sleep at night, nightmares,” Jessica paused and Harvey gave her a small smile of encouragement. After dealing with panic attacks himself, Harvey knew how hard shits like this might get. “I went to over a dozen psychiatrists and psychologists. I saw no improvements. All I saw was how much they wanted to keep me in their pockets. Then my sister recommended a psychologist, she promised me she would be different. So I went to see her. It all went well. I started to see real improvements and 3 months ago, she terminated our agreement. She told me I could walk on my own. She didn’t keep me in her pocket, Harvey. She actually cared for me.” She sighed and leaned back. “Since then we have seen each other a lot. I confided in her as a friend. And 2 weeks ago she told me her husband was cheating. She filed for divorce and her husband wanted to take all their marital assets. Including a clinic she owned. She asked me to be her lawyer but I cared too much about her, my judgment won’t be as clear as yours. So please, Harvey. I owe this woman the peace I have right now.” Harvey nodded as he took the folder with him.

2 days later, Harvey prepared himself to meet with his client for the first time. Harvey went to the conference room before he opened the door, he saw a woman standing by the window. Harvey opened the door and she turned around to see whoever entered the room. Harvey was taken aback. She was younger than he expected her to be. Her hair was long and flowy and her smile was bright, despite the circumstances. Harvey shook his head, a bright smile? He must not have gotten enough sleep last night to have thought about a smile that can be bright. “Mrs. Seward,” Harvey extended his hand. She scoffed but shook his hand. “Harvey Specter,” she nodded, then again smiled. “Please don’t call me Mrs. Seward. And nice to finally meet the source of Jessica’s headache.” Harvey raised an eyebrow at her snarky comment as he watched her sit herself in one of the chairs. Harvey shook the thought of how attractive this woman was. “Okay, so tell me more about this scumbag of a soon-to-be ex-husband of yours.”

3 months after that, they were sitting in a fancy restaurant. It was indeed a nasty divorce and took 3 months to finalize. And they were celebrating the long-awaited win. “Harvey, I really would like to thank you. You really worked hard on this,” Harvey scoffed. “Don’t mention it, it’s my job.” She shook her head, “I want to thank you still.�� For a few minutes, they were just sitting there in silence. Enjoying the mere presence of each other. “However,” Harvey started, having her full attention. “I think I couldn’t be your lawyer anymore.” Her eyebrows knitted in confusion. “Am I not paying you enough?” She joked but earned not even a smile from Harvey. “I couldn’t be your lawyer anymore because I want to date you,” Harvey said nonchalantly as if the piece of information he just shared wasn’t even important. “Come again?” she asked in disbelief. “I want to date you. And I can’t date you if you’re still my client. The last thing I need is to get disbarred over a pretty girl,” Harvey smirked as he took her hand and earned the brightest smile from her.

Around 8 months later, Harvey got his ex-client to be his girlfriend. Who would have thought?

Donna was wiping the sweat on her forehead from following Harvey’s order. Harvey’s been barking orders left and right. He was especially on edge today. God knows what pissed him off this time. Donna’s best guess was that Judge Campbell wasn’t cooperating with Harvey’s plan and now he had to whip out a new one. But, Donna had also whipped out a plan to tame Harvey. Donna kept looking over her table. Couldn’t wait for one more second for her plan to arrive. “Donna!” Harvey called again as she sighed and was about to walk over to her boss’ office. That was when she saw her plan arriving. Donna thanked all the Gods above. Donna’s plan scurried to her in her red bottoms. “You’re a lifesaver! I’m sorry to have called you on working hours. But Harvey has been unexpectedly mean today. He just barked my name not 2 seconds ago.” Donna faked a pout. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of Harvey. And sorry he was mean all day.” Donna smiled and told her not to worry about it. Donna’s plan walked quietly to Harvey’s office. Harvey was facing the window, clearly deep in thought. She didn’t even knock, just invited herself in. “Donna, I called you minutes ago. Is it that damn hard to come here when I called?” Harvey swiveled in his chair and his face instantly softened at the sight of his girlfriend. “If that’s how you talked to Donna, you should give her a raise,” she smiled as she sat across from him. “You’re definitely not on my schedule today,” Harvey joked as he flipped through his calendar. “Should I call the security?” Harvey smirked. He watched her and she stood up from the chair. Harvey moved his chair back, away from his desk. She sat on Harvey’s lap as the both of them stared at each other. She brought her thumb to the crease between his eyebrows and smoothed it. “I’m sorry, today must be hard. Plan didn’t go well with Campbell?” Harvey nodded as he closed his eyes and enjoyed the moment. “It’s 6. Let’s leave. A tired mind is not a good mind. We can stop to have dinner,” she stopped the movement of her thumb and Harvey opened his eyes. Looked longingly at his girlfriend. She leaned in and whispered in his ear, “And then, you could do whatever you wanna do to me,” she left a soft kiss just behind his ear before abruptly standing up. Harvey shivered from the kiss. He closed his laptop so fast and was ready to leave. He saw that his girlfriend already standing by Donna’s desk and he heard Donna vaguely thanked her over something. “Come on,” Harvey said as he put his hand on the small of her back. “Thanks, Donna. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Donna nodded and the two women hugged as they shared farewell. Harvey took her hand as he walked a bit faster than usual. “Easy tiger,” she laughed as Harvey followed. “Hey, guys!” Harvey sighed at the sound of the familiar woman that stopped the both of them.

“Jessica!” Harvey sighed once again as his girlfriend let go of his hand and walked in the opposite direction of the elevator. Harvey reluctantly followed her. They were hugging when Harvey reached the two of them. “Been so long since I saw you!” she said to Jessica. “If anything you’re the one busy with Harvey,” Jessica smirked at her as her face reddened. Harvey also smirked at the sight of his girl’s reddened face. The three of them were in a conversation when they heard the elevator door open and then close.

“WHERE IS HARVEY SPECTER?”

The loud shout startled the three of them if not everyone nearby. Harvey stiffened at the sight of his girlfriend’s ex-husband. Harvey instinctively moved her girlfriend behind him. “Jeffry”, she whispered in disbelief. Jessica ran inside her office to call security as all of them knew, he meant harm. Upon seeing Harvey and his ex-wife, Jeffry walked really fast over them. “So what I heard was right. You are having an affair with your lawyer. I always knew you are a bitch,” Jeffry was ready to lunge at her when Harvey stopped him. He towered over him. “Leave and I’ll pretend this never happened.” Although Harvey’s voice was low, it was laced with venom. “Don’t you dare tell me what I should do when you helped her ruin my life.” They were standing nose to nose. Both were seething. “You are nothing but a bastard,” Jeffry said before he punched his jaw. Harvey fell to the floor, followed by the shriek of his girlfriend. “Jeffry, please. Just leave,” she tried to reason with him. Stalling time until the security arrived. Harvey was about to get back on his feet when he saw it. The knife. He heard nothing but the blood-curdling scream of the woman he loved more than life. He saw everything in slow motion. The white shirt his girlfriend wore turned a sickening shade of red. The security tackled Jeffry. Jessica got beside her, now lying on the floor barely conscious. Harvey couldn’t really hear anything, everything got blurry. He felt like he tried to breathe underwater. He tried to move, to get to his girlfriend. But he felt like his limbs were chained. Suddenly it was Mike’s face he saw in front of him, with a glass of water. “Harvey, drink!” Mike was half screaming. “Snap out of it, Harvey. You can’t have the panic attack now, she needs you,” Harvey took a generous gulp of the water as he brought himself back to reality. Then everything slowly became clear. Jessica got his girlfriend’s head on her lap. Mike watched him, making sure he was okay now. The pool of blood underneath her was the one that snapped Harvey. He quickly got beside her and took her in his arms. “Oh God, Jessica. She’s going to die,” Harvey said as he pulled his girlfriend closer as if she might fade away. “Harvey, calm down. We’ve called the 911.” Harvey barely listened to Jessica as he removed whatever clothing was put on top of the wound to stop the bleeding. He took off his suit jacket and pressed hard on her wound. Harvey watched her face, he saw colors draining from her face. He felt her skin getting cold. He heard her quiet, labored breathing. “I…” Harvey’s voice trailed off. “I lo- love you so much, baby. Please, please don’t leave me, please. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” Frustrated tears flow because Harvey knew, there was nothing he could do.

Part 2 here.

MASTERLIST

[crowleysgirl67]

New Neighbor

Author: @crowleysgirl67

Word Count: 1239

Parings/Characters: Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings: fluff, angsty, reid getting injured,   

A/N: Thanks for reading! 

Arms leadened with groceries you struggled to get your key in your apartment door. You let out an exasperated sigh as one of the bags toppled over and onto the floor. Setting the bags down you aggressively opened the door and picked up a few bags again and took them inside. When you came back for the rest a moppy brown-haired gentleman was bagging the things you'd dropped. 

“Oh you don’t need to do that, I could have gotten it.” you bent down to help him.

He smiled, “It’s no problem. I’m Spencer.”

“(Y/N). It’s nice to meet you Spencer. Thank you for your help.”  

“My pleasure. You’re new to the building aren’t you?” he asked, following you in with your groceries. 

“Yeah I moved in on Thursday.”   

“Makes sense why I haven’t seen you yet. I just got back into town from work last night.” he set your bags on the counter. 

“You travel a lot for work?” you ask as you begin to put things away.

“Quite a bit. Honestly I’m probably out for work more than I am home.” 

“As long as you enjoy what you do, I don’t think that’s necessarily a bad thing.”  

“It can be grueling, but I do enjoy it.” 

“Then that’s what matters.”

“What about you? Do you enjoy your work?” he asked, looking about your living room.

 “I do. I have freedom to do what I want to.” you finished putting the last of the groceries away and put on a kettle for tea. You pulled out your tray of different teas and offered it to Spencer to look through. 

“I noticed your doctorates on the wall.” he commented as he looked.

“Yeah. I am a psychiatrist.” you pulled two mugs out from the cupboard. “I also write, which is my main ‘job’. Most of my books are done under a pen name unless I’m writing about the psych field.” you add seeing as he looked confused about how you’d have free time as a doctor. 

“You don’t practice?” he questioned.

“Not really, not anymore at least. I keep up on my credentials and I help occasionally at the local hospitals if needed.” 

The kettle squealed and you pulled it off pouring the water into the mugs. 

“Do you mind if I ask why?” He took the mug you scooted over and put his tea in it.

“Not at all. I was attacked by a patient who had severe delusions. As a result I decided to take a step back from that.” 

“Makes sense.” he nods.

“I’m no cop, that's for sure.” you slid over the sugar.

“Making an educated guess about my profession I see. It’s close. I’m an FBI agent” he chuckled.

“Where the travel part comes in.”

“Exactly.” 

***

Over the next few months you and Spencer became close friends. He even had you apartment sit while he was out of town on cases. You didn’t mind and enjoyed his company when you had the opportunity to hang out.

One evening your cell rang and you answered thinking it might be Spencer.

“Is this (Y/N)?” a female voice on the other end asked.

“Depends, who are you?” you asked wary of unknown callers.

“My name’s Penelope Garcia. I’m the BAU technical analyst, I work with Dr. Reid.”

“Oh, Spencers told me a lot about you guys. It’s nice to put a voice to a name. What can I help you with?”

“He asked me to give you a call. He’s a little out of it.”

“Why? What happened?” you stood up from your spot on your couch, on alert. 

“He was injured in the field, nothing life threatening thankfully”

“What happened?” you asked, gathering your stuff into an overnight bag.

“He was shot in the shoulder.” she replies with a quiet voice.

“Where is he? What hospital? What city? I can be there within a matter of hours.”

Garcia and you worked out the details and you gathered what you needed for an overnighter or two and went to his apartment and gathered a few things for him as well. As promised you were there in a matter of hours.

“(Y/N)?” a dark haired man approached you as you entered the floor Spencer was on.

“Agent Hotchner I presume. Penelope said you and your team would be here.” you shook his hand. 

“Correct. It’s a pleasure to meet you, despite the circumstances.” he brings you over to the rest of the team and introduces you.

“You got here fast.” Rossi comments.

“The perks of having money is you pay people to make it happen fast.” you chuckled softly. “How is he?”

“Alright. He’s asleep now.” Derek answered.

“Was it a through and through?”  

“Yes.” Derek replied.

“I’m here!” Penelope's voice drifted down the hall as she approached. 

“Baby girl, what are you doing here?” Derek asks. Everyone looked surprised to see her as well.

“(Y/N) brought me. Did you know she has her own private jet? Like the one we use is cool but hers is fabulous.”   

“She said your case was over. I figured it didn’t hurt to bring her if I was coming anyway.” you shrug off the looks they were giving you.

“Oh we so have to see it later.” Emily pipes in. 

“Hey guys.” Spencer says and everyone turns to face him.

“You should be resting. Why are you up?” you made your way to his side and guided him into one of the chairs. 

“I’m fine.” 

“You wouldn’t be in a hospital hooked up to an IV with a hole in your shoulder if you were fine Spence.” you flagged down a nurse “Could you get me a wheelchair and Dr. Reid's chart please.” 

She glanced at you, noticing the hospital badge, before nodding, “Of course Doctor.” 

“Thank you.” you smiled and turned your attention back to Spencer.

“I don’t need a wheelchair. I walked out here didn’t I?” he pouts. “Garcia? When did you get here?” he asked as he seemed to just notice her.

“And that’s why you need the chair.” you thank the nurse as you took his file, and parked the chair next to him.

***

Spencer was on modified duty for the weeks following the incident. You were there helping him. You took up making sure he did his physical therapy exercises, and cooking the two of you sharing meals at one of your apartments frequently. His friends checked in on him regularly, giving you the opportunity to get to know them better as well. 

“Hey (Y/N).” Spencer greeted you as he walked in your apartment using his key.

“Hey Spence. How was work? You didn’t over extend that shoulder today right?” you looked over from your spot on the couch. He’d done that once early on and could have potentially messed his recovery up. 

“It was fine and no I didn’t overdo it. Emily was right, you're not letting that go anytime soon are you?” he chuckled. 

“Damn right I’m not. You got hurt, you need to heal and rest, not be off messing your shoulder up more.”

“Hey!” he plopped down next to you on the couch. 

“Genius can’t rebuttal because I’m right.” you teased. 

“Um..” he started.

“Yes?” you waited patiently for him to form his thoughts.

“Do you maybe… want to go out… with me?” he asked nervously. 

You smiled, “Yes Spencer, I would love to go out with you.”