mr briefs

[Mrs Holmes is teaching young Eurus Humpty Dumpty]

Mrs Holmes : (for the third time)Now say it after me : 🎶Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall, ….🎶

Eurus : But what happened to him? Did he break his neck? His leg?

Mrs Holmes : No sweetie, Humpty is an egg.

Eurus : Where does it say that?

Mrs Holmes :

7

HERE COMES PART 4 / PART 1 / PART 2/ PART 3

I’M BACK.

Okay so it take me wayyyyy to long to post it and it’s part because i got a ton of work those last months but daaaamn I get so lazy after doing the storyboard.  I’m not giving up on this “brief summary”, actually i plan to do dumb comics for every book I like, so brace yourself for some Oscar Wilde, Virginia Woolf, Laclos and Jane Austen. And if you have suggestion, I take request ! Also huge thanks to my Friend @toocoolfordrool for helping me with my bad english.

❧ k.sy | redamancy

Originally posted by visual-17

pairing; seventeen hoshi x reader

genre; fluff, angst, arranged marriage

synopsis; your parents put you and soonyoung in an arranged marriage, but you were against it; you weren’t going to marry this stranger just because the adults want to make money. but you fell for him anyway.

word count; 6.3k words (oh wow)

notes; i spent forever on this omg ,, i hope you guys like it !! this is probably the longest scenario i’ve ever written lmao

“That’s not funny,” you laughed nervously and halfheartedly, unsure of whether you should trust the seriousness in your parent’s voice. 

“It’s not supposed to be,” your father sighed gruffly, crossing his arms. Your face dropped and your mood took a 180-degree change for the worse. You got mad. 

“What do you mean?” you asked, although it wasn’t really a question. You were just still in denial. 

“We meant what we said,” your father spoke. “You’re getting married to Mr. Kwon’s son. We’ve arranged it.”

You knew that your parents were major shareholders of the Kwon’s business. You didn’t know how the decision of the arranged marriage came about, but you guessed that it was because of your father’s position in Mr. Kwon’s company. You had caught a glimpse of Mr. Kwon’s son many years ago at your father’s office, but you never spoke to him, let alone know anything about him.

“We’re in the 21st Century, dad,” you deadpanned. “Those things don’t exist anymore.”

“Well, they do, in fact,” your father said. “And we’re implementing it here.”

“That’s not allowed!” you raised your voice. “I’m 19, and I will choose who I’ll live with for the rest of my life! You do not just… just dump a random man on me!”

Your voice was breaking. Your mother frowned a little, showing a tinge of worry, but your father simply shook his head.

Your mother lets out a sigh, too, and takes a royal blue paper bag from the sofa, extending it to you.

“Here’s your outfit for tomorrow,” she said. “We’re paying their family a visit in the morning and having lunch there.”

You grit your teeth and ignored her, turning your back on both your parents, and ran back to your room upstairs. You locked your door and threw yourself onto your bed, burying your face in your pillow. Tears filled your eyes and your chest was congested. You tried to take in a deep breath but all that came out was a soft whimper, followed by uncontrollable sobs, because you knew that you wouldn’t be able to do anything about their decision.


The next morning, at about 7:30 am, the soft rays of the sun filtrated through your white curtains and gently shone onto your bed, very much in contrast of your messy self who was sprawled on the soft sheets, still in dreamland. The rays hit your face and you woke up half-dazed, ignoring how heavy and puffy your eyes were feeling, before running your hands through your brown locks and walking out of your room to go wash up. 

The minute you opened your room door, you were greeted by the same royal blue paper bag sitting smugly at the foot of your door, as if taunting you. You grumbled in annoyance and kicked it to a side, the paper bag crunching against itself before toppling over.

You walked over to the toilet and looked at your own reflection in the mirror, pressing the tips of your fingers under your slightly-swollen eyes. You didn’t look as bad as you thought. At least you still looked human. 

You took your time as you brushed your teeth and washed your face, not wanting to think about the events that were going to unfold as the day goes by.

Your bubble was popped as you see your mother standing outside the toilet the moment you stepped out, leaning onto the wall. 

“Just change and get yourself ready, alright? It isn’t as bad as you think,” your mother says. You don’t argue. 

“Sure.” Was all you said. I bet it’s worse.

You brushed past her and returned to your room. Your mother had taken out the outfit from the bag and laid it out neatly on your bed. It was a simple but pretty white, lace dress that stops just above your knees. You gently rubbed the soft fabric between your fingers and a smile finds its way onto your lips. Pretty, you thought.

You changed into the dress before putting on your makeup. When you were done, you looked into the full-length mirror and that made you oddly a little less angry at your parents — you were happy with how you looked. Not over the top, but subtly formal and neat. 

You noticed a disadvantage about the dress when you stepped out of your warm house, though — it was cold. 

You and your parents got into the car, and you easily warmed back up, your chauffeur driving you three off to Mr. Kwon’s place. Mother had taken her usual seat beside you at the back of the car, and had complimented on how beautiful you looked, which made you smile a little. Grudges were still apparent in your heart, but she was your mother. Other than that, the ride was silent, and the only sounds heard were the soft rumbling of the engine. 

After about a 30-minute drive, the car came to a stop. You glanced out the windows and easily recognized the place as the city central; the area where only the richest of the richest lived. 

Of course, you thought, scoffing lightly to yourself. It’s Mr. Kwon, what else did you expect? 

You got out of the car after your parents, stepping onto the drop-off porch of a penthouse, and you felt the cold air hit your exposed skin once again, making you rub your arms. The moment you got out of the car, you were greeted by two guards who bowed deeply to you. You weren’t used to this but you weren’t exactly uncomfortable either; it was the same situation in your father’s office, although not at home. Your mother and you weren’t ones who liked attention, though you knew your father had enough money to buy a whole new, bigger house with all the servants and cooks he could get. Your mother and you preferred a simple lifestyle, so that didn’t happen.

You politely bowed back slightly, and looked on as the staff and guards around all greeted your father in unison as if he was a highly-respected commando. He just nods.

“This way, Mr. Y/LN,” one of the guards who had greeted you earlier said in a formal tone as he extends an arm to guide your father, who walks into the foyer. It was pleasantly warm. The second guard just stood a casual distance beside your family, acting as, well, a bodyguard. You didn’t see the need to, but you didn’t say anything and just followed.

The lobby itself already made you feel how luxurious the Kwon family was. A large, shining chandelier hung dazzling on the high ceiling of the lobby, and everything was mainly glass, white, or gold. It felt like a palace. 

Wherever you went, whoever you passed by, you were repeatedly greeted and bowed to by random people in uniforms, and that made you a little flustered. But you were professional enough — your father had made sure you were well-trained at handling formal situations since you were young — he didn’t want you to “make a fool of yourself”. 

You all soon reached the lift, and were taken up to the 7th floor. When the doors opened, you were taken into a deeper state of awe (even though you didn’t show it). It was the main living area, which was so unbelievably spacious that your eyes had to take a minute to scan through the entire room. The windows were all full-length, which gave you a beautiful view of the outside. The ceilings, were once again, high. A single level was already extremely tall, so being on the seventh level gave you a sky view.

“You’re here!” You immediately turned towards the voice, who was, without a doubt, Mr. Kwon. He was dressed in a smart, grey suit, with a matching tie, his hair styled back neatly, although grey hair peeked through. You couldn’t help but wonder: does he dress like this all day at home?

Your father and Mr. Kwon shared a brief handshake and a friendly hug, laughing heartily as they joked about a few things you didn’t understand. Mr. Kwon greets your mother too, and she smiles like she always does, greeting him back. His eyes then travel over to you, and you instinctively straightened your back, placing your feet together as you bowed politely. 

“You must be Y/N,” Mr. Kwon says, and you nodded.

“Yes, Mr. Kwon,” you confirmed, feeling a little odd as you answered that. He was speaking as if he had never seen you before, although you were sure you met him before. 

“You look so pretty and all grown up now! It’s been ages since I last saw you! You were still so young and innocent then, running around your father’s office,” he jokes, making you smile and relax a little from your tense self. That explains it. 

You were suddenly reminded of why you were here. The arranged marriage. Your smile faltered and you dropped your head slightly. 

“Take a seat, make yourselves at home! We can talk a little more and have lunch later when it’s prepared,” Mr. Kwon says, leading you three to the sitting area. Lush couches and sofas were lined against the wall, the floors carpeted at some areas.

You sat down on one of the sofas, immediately putting a cushion over your lap as you were conscious of how your dress scooted a little higher up your thigh when you sat down.

“Soonyoung should be here soon, he’s getting changed,” Mr. Kwon said, and your father grins widely, nodding in understanding. 

Soonyoung.

You were hearing his name for the first time. You already had a picture of him formed in your head, and the way he was viewed in your mind wasn’t very nice. He seemed cocky.

“I hope you weren’t forced into this, Y/N,” Mr. Kwon smiles, a little bitterly. “I hope you understand.”

You almost scoffed aloud. An arranged marriage was an arranged marriage. Who isn’t forced into one? What were you even supposed to understand?

Just then, the lift lets out a soft ‘ding’, its doors sliding open again. Everyone naturally turned to the lift, and a man steps out — you wouldn’t have recognized him if not for his distinct eyes — the only thing that hadn’t changed since the last time you saw him as a toddler, during that incident of you running about the office.

Soonyoung donned a simple but good-looking grey turtleneck sweater and jeans, and had a meek smile plastered on his face as he quickly walked over to where you all were. He greeted your parents, and apologized for being late. Your parents didn’t mind a single bit; they seemed completely smitten by their ‘son-in-law to-be’. 

His soft tiger-like eyes looked over to you, and his smile changed to one with his lips just pressed together, the corners turned up slightly. You returned the exact same monotone smile.

“Hello,” you said, bowing slightly while seated. 

“Hello,” Soonyoung said, bowing too. It was so painfully awkward, you felt the tip of your ears burn.

Soonyoung sits down on the individual seat at the side, and the air was… tense, for a moment. 

Mr. Kwon breaks the silence. “I believe both the kids already know what’s going on, right?”

Kids? 

You and Soonyoung both glanced at each other, making eye contact on accident, but you quickly looked back down as he turned to his father, nodding hesitantly. 

“We’ll have to decide on the… date,” Mr. Kwon says simply, believing that everyone present was smart enough to break down on what he meant. “It’s either happening 2 years later, or 3 years later. You can choose.”

It didn’t occur to you that Mr. Kwon was directing the question to you and Soonyoung; you thought he was asking the adults for their inputs. When you realized everything was quiet for a little too long, you looked up to notice everyone staring at you. 

“H-huh?” 

You could literally feel your father’s piercing glare at you.

Mr. Kwon just chuckles a bit, which made you like him more than you originally did. He was just so nice, and didn’t have any airs, unlike what you had envisioned him to be. 

“I said—” 

“No, no, I heard what you said, it’s just — was that question for me?” you asked a little cautiously.

“For you and Soonyoung, yes,” Mr. Kwon confirms himself, nodding.

“Oh.”

Everything became quiet for a while as you tried to process everything in your head. You, a nineteen-year-old, is getting married to a holy rich twenty-one-year-old whom you barely knew, against your will, and his father is telling you to choose the date of your wedding. Now. It’s either you choose the earlier date, or the later date. With the difference of a year.

You swallowed nervously, your fingers playing with the soft fabric of the cushion on your lap. “The thing is —”

“Two years later,” Soonyoung interrupted. You ogled at him. What did he just say?

“Two years, Dad,” Soonyoung repeats, shooting you a look you couldn’t quite decipher the meaning behind. “Let’s put it as that.”

Mr. Kwon glances at you for your acknowledgement, but words were stuck in your throat. 

“I-I…” you stammered again.

“She’s okay with it,” your father speaks up, supporting Soonyoung. “Let’s just settle it with that.”

Mr. Kwon lets out a uncertain sigh, but nods. 

“Alright then.”

You couldn’t say anything; because even saying that you wanted it held 3 years later didn’t sound right to you either. You didn’t even want to get married!

“You two can head upstairs,” Mr. Kwon says kindly. “The adults will talk among ourselves, and you two can just… get to know each other better.”

That made you clench the the cushion in your fist, already feeling the awkwardness awaiting you bone-deep. 

“Thanks, Dad,” Soonyoung says a little flatly, although a hint of sincerity could be heard. He stands up, sliding his hands in his pockets and walking past you, to where the lift was. When he notices that you don’t stand up to follow him after he passes you, he turns around. 

“Why’re you still sitting there? Let’s go,” he said, not rudely. You snap out of your thoughts and sheepishly stood up, straightening out your dress and putting the cushion back in place on the corner of the sofa.

Soonyoung extends an arm to gesture for you to go first, and you do. Soonyoung, the polite boy he was trained to be, said his goodbyes to the adults, before catching up with you and following you to the lift.

He pulls a hand out of his pocket to press the lift button, before casually placing his hands back in his pocket. 

Your eyes curiously looked around the level one more time, as if you were never going to see it again. You noticed a wide spiral staircase at the side of the level leading upstairs, but you guessed that wasn’t where you’re heading to.

“Level 10,” Soonyoung said, as if reading your thoughts. You blinked at looked at him, puzzled. 

He smiles a little, a gentle smile which made your skin tingle. “That’s where we’re going.”

“Oh.”

Soonyoung chuckles, just as the lift arrives at your level, and the doors slide open. “You say that a lot.”

The both of you walk in, and Soonyoung pushes the button with the number 10 on it. 

“I do?”

“Yeah. You did just now too.”

You just shrug, and keep quiet. You didn’t really feel like talking, specifically not to him. It annoyed you to think that you had to marry him when you didn’t even love him. It annoyed you that you keep forgetting that you’re going to have to live with this guy for the rest of your life. 

You kept seeing him as just someone you’d meet, just for today. But the moment you snap back into reality, no, that’s not the case. You’re seeing him for the rest of your life, Y/N dear. 

You subconsciously let out a deep breath, which made Soonyoung glance at you. He didn’t say anything, though. He had an idea of the reason anyway. 

The lift reaches the 10th level, and you were instantly, once again, wonderstruck by the interior, and the view it had — which was the first thing that caught your eye. Since one would already have a sky view from the 7th level, the 10th level was just… much higher, which made the view ten times better. You found yourself walking briskly over towards the wide, glass windows, your palms gently pressing onto the hard, smooth surface as you stared out. It was still morning, so the sunlight was scattering the sky, spearing through the clouds, creating beautiful individual rays of golden light. A smile found its way onto your lips. 

Soonyoung just stares as you do what you were doing. You definitely are different, he thinks. 

He calls out to you. “Hey, Y/N?”

You spoke without turning to face him. “Yeah?”

“Don’t you wanna explore?”

You quickly pulled your hands back from the glass, as if it had just burnt into your skin. You looked over to Soonyoung, who cocked his head to a side.

“Look, I think I’d have to make this clear,” you said as seriously as you could, making sure that you kept your tone firm but not too discourteous. 

“Hmm?” Soonyoung hums a little, making his way towards you. You sucked in a deep breath of air and let it out.  

“I don’t know about you, but I’m against this whole thing. I’m guessing you are, too, but even if you’re not, I don’t really care. I’m still gonna try and get out of this somehow, so don’t… try anything on me.”

You wanted to slap yourself. How could you even say that from your own mouth?

Soonyoung shrugs. “I won’t, since you say so,” he replies. “But you’ve gotta worry about yourself.” 

You just frowned in confusion. “What do you mean?”

He merely chuckles, and continued walking over. When he didn’t stop at a natural distance and continued closing the gap between the two of you, it made you take tiny resigned steps backwards, pressing your back against the glass.

“W-what?”

Soonyoung smiles, his face inches away from you. You couldn’t help but subtly scrutinize his features; the way the light from behind you hit his face made him look astonishingly beautiful. 

Your heart was pounding so hard against your chest, you were afraid that he might hear it.

“Well, I just mean, you should be careful…” he says, almost sweetly. “Don’t fall for me.”

You wanted to scorn at him. But instead, your breath hitches. “I-I won’t.”

Soonyoung laughs quietly before retreating, and you let out a shaky breath that you didn’t know you had been holding.


You two didn’t talk much after that, and your parents could tell from the tenseness you had during lunch. 

The lunch meal prepared was comparable to that of a five-star restaurant. Everything was garnished and plated neatly, and the long, rectangular table was filled with dish after dish. 

The adults were still talking among themselves.

You were reserved about eating with people you didn’t know well, so you had ended up just sheepishly eyeing the food laid out on the table while poking at your plain bowl of rice. 

Soonyoung, who was made to sit beside you, noticed how you were literally just feeding yourself with white rice. He uses his chopsticks to pick up some fish meat from the plate in front of him, and casually places it in your bowl.

“Here,” he says, taking a few more of the other dishes and placing them all in your bowl. “Just eat.”

He returns back to eating after that, and so did you. You shot him sheepish side-glances, unsure of how you were supposed to feel or react. 

After lunch, both you and Soonyoung’s parents somehow decided that it was a good idea to leave you here to stay to ‘get closer with Soonyoung’. 

“You two were going to have to live together in two years time anyway,” they had said, “so why not let you get used to the place first?”

“But…” you trailed off, trying to find an excuse to go back home. “My clothes. I need to get my clothes.” You looked down at yourself, who was still in the white dress. You started noticing more and more of its flaws after wearing it for the day. It was a bit too tight, and it wouldn’t stop riding up your thighs. Which was very annoying to you.

“I’ll get one of my people to help you bring them over if you want,” Mr. Kwon assures. “But we’ve got an entire wardrobe for you too, so you could use that.”

You nearly stared at him. Already?

“Well, you see…” you laugh a little. “I usually wear really casual clothing around the house so—”

“That’s no problem too,” Mr. Kwon smiles. “We’ve got lots of different styles of clothing prepared in your closet, I’m sure everything’s covered. But if you do need anything else, you can just ask one of the maids to get it for you.”

You see Soonyoung nodding a little at his father’s words, although he seemed to be in a daze. His eyes were looking at somewhere random, but he was definitely listening. 

“…Right,” you say softly. “Thank you, then.”

You had no more excuses. You could practically feel how hopping mad your father was right now, and you internally decided that it wasn’t a good idea to continue your little protest. 

Mr. Kwon grins, pleased. “It’s all settled then. You can, of course, go back to your place whenever you like, but this shall be your home too from now.”

He looks over to his secretary, who was standing at a side, and told him to make sure that everyone accommodates to you. You’re practically in a princess’ position now — you’re the daughter-in-law to-be of the CEO. 

Okay. That just slapped your across the face.

Your parents left right after lunch. You and your mother exchanged a hug, and you heard her whisper a quiet “take care, alright?” into your ear, which you replied to by nodding. 

“It’s not like we’re not seeing each other again, mum,” you joked lightheartedly, making her smile, although it was obvious that it wasn’t genuine. 

And with that, they left, once again escorted by guards. 

You followed Soonyoung back to level 10, where he had said his room was. You haven’t seen it, though. 

“The whole of Level 10 is pretty much for me,” he said, but not in a arrogant way. “And now it’s yours too.”

You rolled your eyes. “Not. I’m just here temporarily.”

“Whatever you say,” Soonyoung said, walking towards another part of the level that you hadn’t been at yet. The level was partitioned and divided into different sections, and Soonyoung led you to a bedroom. 

He pushed down the door handle and pushed it open. It was a simple and classy room, the main colors being wooden brown, beige and white shades. A queen sized bed sat in the center of the room, and a full length window at one of the walls beside the bed was hidden by a curtain. There were nightstands on both sides of the bed. You liked it — it was homey. 

“Your room,” Soonyoung says, taking you aback. 

“Mine?” you asked. “Isn’t it yours?” 

He shakes his head. “Mine’s there.” He nods over to the room next to the one you were standing outside. 

“Oh.”

“There it is again,” he chuckles, and you laugh. “Go on in.”

You walked in carefully, your eyes darting around the room. Your hand naturally brushed across the soft bed sheets when you walked past it. You were grateful that you had a room all too yourself. Soonyoung smiles, seeing how you liked the place. 

“How is it?” he asked, although he could already tell from your expression. 

“Perfect,” you mumble. 

“Your closet’s here,” he said, and you turned to him. He presses a button on the wall in front of your bed, and the wall literally slides open relatively fast. You widened your eyes.

“That’s… cool.” 

“I know,” Soonyoung said, grinning, and you went in. Mr. Kwon was right — every type of clothing you could possibly imagine was already there. From casual tees to hoodies to dresses; they were all hung up neatly. 

“Oh, and…” Soonyoung drifts off and coughs a bit, and you could tell it was forced. 

“Yeah?”

He coughs again, stifling a snicker. “Undergarments in that drawer.” He gestures to the one behind you, and you stared at him in disbelief for a moment before bursting into laughter. 

“You pervert!” you laughed. You were slightly embarrassed, but surprisingly not too much. He laughs along with you, his eyes pressing into tiny slits. 

Aw. 


Over the next few weeks, or a few months, you two grew undeniably closer, the major reason being your awkwardness around the penthouse. You knew no one else, and you couldn’t possibly keep to yourself the whole day — so Soonyoung was pretty much your only companion.

You realized Soonyoung wasn’t as stuck-up as you thought he would be. He was extremely carefree and outgoing, and decently caring. He had noticed of how you were socially uncomfortable and kept to yourself a lot after ‘moving’ into the penthouse — it was just your personality, really — and Soonyoung always teased you about it. But it was genuinely to help you get used to everything. 

“Miss, would you like me to iron out your dress?” he had asked in a high-pitched voice from behind you while you were in your closet, picking out clothes to wear. Strangely, you didn’t know that it was him, and started stuttering. 

“N-no, it’s alright, thank you—”

When you turned around, you see Soonyoung leaning against the wall frame of the closet, one of his legs behind the other, his arms crossed loosely in front of his chest. His shoulders jerked a little as he snickered playfully. 

“Soonyoung! Stop doing that!” you chided, throwing a sweater at him, which he swiftly caught. He pushed himself up from the wall, laughing.

“It’s funny to see you react!” he said pointedly, walking into your closet and hanging the sweater back into it’s place. “Wanna go out today?”

You grinned. “Where?”

He pushes his shoulders up in a shrug. “You choose.”


This other time, about 4 months into living in the penthouse, you had a fight with Soonyoung, which resulted in cold war for about 2 or 3 days. You had left the penthouse alone without him knowing, although the guards had tried to stop you. You had lied that you had informed Soonyoung, which made them reluctantly let you out. All you wanted was some fresh air, you didn’t think much about it.

When Soonyoung found out, he immediately called you back, and he had unconsciously raised his voice at you when you got back to the penthouse. 

“How could you just leave without telling anyone? What if something happens to you? You even lied to the guards that I knew that you were leaving? Can’t you be more responsible?!” Soonyoung shouted, making the staff at the level quickly retreat to the other levels to do their jobs. They didn’t want to see the scene unfold.

You were shocked, angry, and honestly scared at how Soonyoung was acting.

“You don’t own me! Who are you to shout at me just because I went out? Is it against the law? What is wrong with you!?” you shouted back. Your eyes were filled with tears. 

“You know your position now! You’re going to be the daughter of a CEO’s family! What if someone does something to you? And hold you hostage or something!?” he argued.

Soonyoung then lets out a loud grunt and storms to his room, slamming the door shut, which made you jump although you had already predicted that he would do that. 

You cried even more later. You didn’t know why, but it hurt. He didn’t talk to you at all for the next couple of days; except for a few mumbles of “ya”s and “no”s when you tried to strike a conversation. 


A few days later, while you and Soonyoung were still at cold war, Soonyoung got sick with a relatively high fever. Everyone started making a big fuss about him, and one of the housemaids kept going into his room every half an hour or so to check on him, changing the towel on his forehead every so often. He couldn’t even sleep in peace, which worsened his headache. 

You had left Soonyoung alone, though, because you knew he needed rest, and was still a bit apprehensive about approaching him.

But you came to notice how you heard his room door clicking open often. Too often. You got out of your room and walked over to his, to see the housemaid dipping the towel in a bucket of water on his nightstand, before wringing it out and placing it back on top of his forehead. When she saw you standing outside, she immediately finished up and walked out, telling you not to go in, since you could get yourself sick. 

You hesitated for a moment and looked past her and into the room, seeing Soonyoung’s pale self lying on the bed, beads of sweat glistening on his neck as a small frown moulded itself onto his features. His chest was steadily rising and falling, the sheets pulled up to his tummy. 

You shook your head. “I’ll take care of him, you can proceed with your other tasks.”

The housemaid was about to advise you against it, but she knew better than to shoot off her words. She simply bows in acknowledgment and gets back to her daily work. 

You sigh and walked in, closing the door behind you to prevent others from coming in to disturb him from his sleep. You quietly sat down beside him, and pulled his blanket higher up as you took another cloth from the nightstand, dabbing dry his sweat on his neck. 

Soonyoung was half-awake, and felt that the presence was of a different person, which made his eyes flutter open. You froze.

To your surprise, instead of ushering you out, a weak smile tugs on Soonyoung’s lips. “Hey.”

You bit your lip, trying to act aloof as you continued wiping off his sweat. “Go back to sleep.”

He just blinked slowly, not taking his eyes of you. “I’m sorry for shouting at you the other day.”

You stopped again, this time putting the cloth away. “I’m sorry too, but not now, Soonyoung. Don’t think about that.”

Soonyoung shakes his head lightly, and felt his head spin a little. His hand reaches out to yours, and he just holds it as he let his eyelids fall close. He swallows, starting to drift back to sleep. 

A few quiet moments later of you just sitting there, you let out yet another silent sigh. You couldn’t look away from him; his resting, peaceful self looking so calm to you. You started to rethink about the past 5 months you have spent together, and shook your head. 

Somehow, your brain has twisted itself into thinking that love does not exist in an arranged marriage. And for that, you convinced yourself that you didn’t love him. 


Over the next 2 days, you took care of Soonyoung, who pretty much just slept through the whole day. You were glad, though, that he was resting. It also gave you time to sort out your thoughts. 

You brought in simple meals into his room during meal hours, such as porridge or just a warm bowl of soup. Soonyoung didn’t have a really good appetite, so he only ate for the sake of filling his stomach. You checked in on him at appropriate timings too. He got better fairly quickly, and he was able to move around 2 days later. 

“How’s your head?” you asked as Soonyoung got off the bed and walked into his closet. He had been feeling extreme drowsiness during the period of time that he was sick.

“Better,” he said, smiling. “Thanks to you.”

You looked away from him as you felt your face heat up. “Don’t say that.”

You hear Soonyoung chuckle, and he ruffled your hair. “Really though. Thanks a lot.”

You simply hummed in reply, and turned to him with a sneer. “You’re gonna have to repay me somehow.”

He raised an eyebrow and started to fake a cough. You laughed and slapped the back of your hand to his stomach. “Don’t fake it, I’m not dumb.”

Soonyoung pretended to hurt when you hit him, clutching his stomach and bending over. You laughed harder, faking a knee-kick towards him. He laughs too, retreating in defense. 

“Why would you hurt a sick person?” he jokes, and you roll your eyes in amusement. 

“Yeah, right. Would you like another few days of lying in bed, Mr Soonyoung?” you said, raising the pitch of your voice to match that of a housemaid’s. 

“N-no thank you, I-I’m fine,” Soonyoung pretends to stutter exaggeratedly, impersonating you. You widen your eyes, staring at Soonyoung incredulously.

“Did you just…” you said, shock still written all over your face. Soonyoung was doubled over in a laughing fit; it was a laughter that he could feel in his lungs, one that took his breath away. You couldn’t help but laugh lightly too.


One night, you two went to bed as usual at around 11pm. Just as you were about to fall asleep, you heard a loud, hollow thud that came from somewhere. You froze for a moment, your heart palpitating. What was that?

You eventually got up from bed and walked over to Soonyoung’s room, your palms sweaty as you took cautious steps down the dark hallway. You could see the moonlight pouring into the living area of the level.

Although it was near, you finally got to Soonyoung’s bedroom and quietly knocked on the wooden door with your knuckles. “Soonyoung?”

The door opens with a confused Soonyoung standing behind it. “Why’re you awake?”

“Did you hear that?” you asked.

“The thud?”

“Yeah.”

He nodded, yawning. “I think one of the housemaids dropped something upstairs. Don’t worry about it and go back to sleep.”

You reluctantly nodded, and was about to turn around and go back to your room when you felt something behind you, making your hair stand on end. 

When something touched your back, you literally jumped and let out a yelp, turning around so fast that you thought your neck was going to snap. You stumbled backwards, accidentally bumping onto Soonyoung, who caught you and steadied you on your feet. 

“I’m so sorry, Young Miss! I was cleaning and something fell from the table upstairs, I wanted to come down and check that you weren’t disturbed by it.”

It was one of the housemaids. You heaved a sigh of relief and nodded, apologizing repeatedly for how you reacted. 

“It’s pretty late, go rest now and continue cleaning tomorrow,” Soonyoung instructs, and the housemaid does what she’s told. 

After the housemaid left, Soonyoung starts snickering at you, which resulted in you lightly hitting him again. 

“Stop laughing!” you hiss, and he bites in his lips as he stifles his laughter.

“Yes, Young Miss.”

You chuckled and shook your head in disbelief, glancing out of Soonyoung’s room. The outside seemed so much more eerie now, for some reason. You knew that you were overthinking, but you couldn’t help it. 

Soonyoung suddenly pulls you back into the room with one hand, and closed his room door with his other hand. 

You looked at him. “What are you doing?”

He smiles reassuringly, the only source of light in the room being his warm-lit beside lamp. “You don’t have to go back to your room. Just sleep here tonight.”

“But—” you stopped yourself, changing your words. “Is… that okay?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” 

You shrugged meekly. “Just because.”

He shakes his head and walks back to his bed, getting under the covers and patting the empty space beside him. You smile slightly, climbing under the covers of his bed, too. 

“Can you keep the lamp on?” you whispered softly, just because it was night time. It was a habit of yours to speak softly at night.

Soonyoung looked confused for a moment, but his gaze slowly melts into a soft smile as he nods. “Of course. Go to sleep now.”

You smile too, and closed your eyes. But sleep didn’t come. You couldn’t just go to sleep when you’re lying beside Kwon Soonyoung. You find yourself warily opening your eyes a while later, after knowing that he was asleep by the steady breaths that he was taking. 

You shifted a bit, making yourself more comfortable, as you lay facing him. The corners of your lips turned up gently as you let out a soft breath.

“I think I like you,” you sighed softly, so softly you would’ve thought that you had said that internally. 

A moment later, a smirk appears on Soonyoung’s lips. “I warned you that you would.”

You quickly flipped yourself over to face to other side, scooting a little further from Soonyoung as you buried your face in his pillow which smelled soothingly like him. 

Soonyoung’s eyes flickered open, chuckling when he sees your embarrassed self. 

“Come here.” He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him and making you turn back to face him at the same time. You inhaled sharply. You were against his warm chest, chiseled to perfection, his brown eyes staring deep into yours. 

“I think I like you too.”

Soonyoung’s lips gently presses onto yours, the euphoric warmth blossoming in the both of you; you never knew a kiss so innocent could be so intimate and electrifying. His lips and yours melted into each other, and you could feel him smiling. 

The two of you pull away, and Soonyoung grins. 

“Lucky that I chose the date that was 2 years later. I don’t think we’d be able to wait for 3.”

You laughed a soft, melodic laugh that echoed in Soonyoung’s ears. “Right.”

With a soft chuckle, the two of your lips touched again. 

So love in arranged marriages do happen.

Ted Bundy’s Psychiatric Report by Emanuel Tanay, MD.

Emanuel Tanay was a Forensic Psychiatrist and a  Clinical Professor of Psychiatry at the Wayne State University Medical School in Detroit. In 1979, Michael Minerva, Ted Bundy’s public defender contacted him about the Chi Omega case. On May 18, 1979, Emanuel Tanay examined Ted Bundy and forwarded his report to Minerva (taken from Tanay’s book, American Legal Injustice) : 

Mr. Bundy is a 32-year-old, handsome-looking man, dressed with the casual elegance of a young college professor. He was meticulously groomed, from well-cared-for fingernails to freshly washed hair. He was in total command of the situation. The deputy sheriffs appeared more like part of his entourage than policemen guarding a prisoner.

The conference room had many comfortable chairs. Two chairs, however, were particularly comfortable looking; these were taken by the deputies into the hallway for their own use. Mr. Bundy, in a very firm but definite manner, instructed the deputies that this arrangement did not meet with his approval. They not only complied with his request to return the chairs, but seemed to be apologetic.

I was accompanied to the conference room by Mr. Minerva, Public Defender for the Second Judicial Circuit, who has a large staff of lawyers working for him. Observing the interaction, however brief, between Mr. Bundy and Mr. Minerva would lead one to believe that Mr. Minerva was Mr. Bundy’s assistant.

Mr. Bundy made a few pointed inquiries to Mr. Minerva about certain work to be done and made a few polite but firm suggestions as to future work. In my brief visit prior to the examination to the offices of the Public Defender, I heard a lawyer whose name I don’t know telling Mr. Minerva that he did go to visit Mr. Bundy in jail but never did have a chance to speak to him because Mr. Bundy was busy on the phone. Based upon various observations, I have reached the impression that the Public Defender’s office is dominated, to a large degree, by the issues and controversies involving Mr. Bundy’s case.

At the outset of the interview, Mr. Bundy commented upon the security precautions, saying that they were the result of ‘the Bundy mystique’ that has developed as a result of news media activities. This was presented in the manner of a complaint; it was, however, my impression that Mr. Bundy was taking pride in his celebrity status.

In the nearly three hours that I spent with Mr. Bundy, I found him to be in a cheerful, even jovial mood. He was witty but not flippant. He spoke freely, but meaningful communication was never established. [Bundy treated me as if I were another news media personality and not a psychiatrist who might assist his lawyers in defending him.] I asked about his apparent lack of concern that was so out of keeping with the charges facing him. He acknowledged that he is facing a possible death sentence. However, he said, ‘I will cross that bridge when I get to it.’

In contrast to the eloquence that Mr. Bundy displays when talking about abstract matters, particularly those related to his case, he has little interest in discussing his past life history or his interpersonal relationships.

His early childhood was fatherless, he is an illegitimate child. At the age of five he acquired a step-father who appears to have made a minimal impact upon him. He professes no difficulties in childhood or adolescence and specifically denies any type of antisocial activities. When confronted with the information contained in the file that as an adolescent he was involved in forging skiing tickets, he gives a detailed account of that particular venture. He described this enterprise with laughter and obvious delight. He does admit the irrefutable, like his stealing of cars, credit card misuse, etc.; however, this occurred only after his ‘unjust’ conviction in Utah for kidnapping, and according to Mr. Bundy, is to be attributed to the influence of his fellow inmates.

Stealing and forgery were completely alien to him prior to his incarceration. [It is typical that he presents information that, with his intelligence, he must know I would find not credible. When I present him with evidence to the contrary, he readily admits his misrepresentation and fabricates another explanation.]

His presentation of the evidence in the Utah kidnapping case against him is psychiatrically significant for diagnostic purposes. At first he presents it in a manner which places him in the role of being the victim of a gross miscarriage of justice perpetrated by a prejudiced judge. He was convicted because he drove a Volkswagen, and the perpetrator of the kidnapping drove a Volkswagen also. [He omitted that additional identifying items irrefutably connected to the crime were also found in his Volkswagen.]

However, when Mr. Bundy becomes aware of the fact that I am familiar with evidence used during that trial, he rationalizes away every piece of evidence that linked him to the crime. The victim described a crowbar, pantyhose, handcuffs, and other items [which were found in his Volkswagen]. It just so happened by a fluke that Mr. Bundy, at the time of his arrest, had all of the above items and was also identified by the victim. Mr. Bundy is unable to recognize the significance of evidence held against him.

It would be simplistic to characterize this as merely lying, in as much as he acts as if his perception of the insignificance of the evidence was real. He makes decisions based upon these distorted perceptions of reality. Furthermore, he maintains an attitude and mood consistent with his perception of reality, namely, he is neither concerned nor distressed in what would be an appropriate behavior, given the charges facing him.

The interactions of Mr. Bundy with the police and the whole criminal justice system have been discussed at length with him and his attorneys. It is my opinion, based upon a variety of data, that his dealings with the criminal justice system are dominated by psychopathology.

Transcripts of the many hours of his conversations with police officers constitute a variety of a ‘confession.’ When this is pointed out to him by me, he does not dispute my inference; he merely provides a different justification. Whatever the explanation, the consequences of the verbal games that Mr. Bundy played with investigators were counterproductive to his defense and occurred against the advice of his counsel. [Bundy was primarily interested in keeping the interaction with the police going; therefore, from time to time, he offered them some juicy tidbit to keep their interest.]

Mr. Bundy “confessed” to the crimes while maintaining his innocence. The intellectual denials and emotional admissions are quite apparent from the tapes and transcripts of his conversations with the investigators. The same attitude was maintained during the interview with me. … Thus it could be argued that Mr. Bundy does have a factual understanding of the proceedings, but lacks a rational understanding of what is facing him. [The needs of the moment dominate what he does. The consequences play a secondary role.]

The interview, the conference with defense counsel, and the document material reviewed show that Mr. Bundy functions in the role of ‘chief counsel,’ and the public defender has been consistently manipulated into the role of ‘associate counsel.’

Mr. Bundy makes motions in open court, passes judgment in open court on adequacy of legal research of points raised by the defense, and schedules depositions that sometimes conflict with plans made by his defense attorneys.

In his decision-making process, Mr. Bundy is guided by his emotional needs, sometimes to the detriment of his legal interests. Mr. Bundy’s pathological need to defy authority and to manipulate his associates and adversaries supplies him with ‘thrills’ to the detriment of his ability to cooperate with his counsel.

Mr. Bundy’s activities are damaging and disruptive to a great many people who come in contact with him, in whatever capacity. This fact in itself would be of little relevance to the issue of ability to stand trial. However, the same activities are also, in some instances, self-destructive and represent an interference with his defense.

Whether the defendant is mentally fit to assume the role of a defendant presumably should have some bearing upon the nature of the contemplated defenses. …

It should be noted that Mr. Bundy placed himself in a rather disadvantageous position by his non-confession confession. To assert the insanity defense, it is generally necessary to admit the commission of the criminal act and discuss it with defense counsel and the experts. Mr. Bundy does talk to the crime investigators about ‘my problem,’ but refrains from doing so with his attorneys and the expert they have chosen.

If one assumes that Mr. Bundy has committed the crimes with which he is charged, then psychiatrically, the possibility of mental derangement at the time of the acts would be a definite consideration. I have reference to the brutality of the assaults and the infliction of severe bites including biting off the nipples. The bizarreness and brutality are often associated with mental states that may qualify for the insanity defense.

On the face of it, the denial of having committed a terrible crime is adaptive and self-serving; however, in the present context it appears to be self-defeating. I realize that it could be argued that Mr. Bundy has some chance to prevail on the claim of his innocence. I consider that exceedingly unlikely, not only because of the evidence that the prosecution has against him but also due to Mr. Bundy’s behavior in the past and in the future. I would anticipate that in the unlikely event that the prosecution’s case against him would weaken, he would, through his behavior, bolster the prosecution’s case. I have much less doubt about Mr. Bundy’s capacity to assist the prosecution than his ability to assist his own counsel.

If one assumes that his sadistic acts, including homicides attributed to Mr. Bundy in Tallahassee, were carried out by him, then psychiatrically it would be likely that various other similar acts have been perpetrated by him. It could then be argued that he is effective in concealing his criminal activities. Such an argument would be only partly true. It would be more accurate to say that he is of two minds on this issue—he attempts to conceal and reveal his involvement. He masterminds escapes with a great deal of ingenuity, and arranges for his apprehension.

I have discussed with Mr. Bundy his appraisal of the evidence held against him. It is his view that the case against him is weak or even frivolous. This judgment of Mr. Bundy’s is inaccurate according to his defense counsel and, most likely, represents a manifestation of his personality disorder.

In view of the fact that on conviction, he faces the death sentence, the acceptance of an offer of a life sentence in exchange for a guilty plea was something to be considered seriously. This option was precluded by Mr. Bundy’s view that the prosecution’s case against him was weak. This is at least his explanation of why he was unwilling to consider this particular approach.

It is my impression that a major factor is his deep-seated need to have a trial, which he views as an opportunity to confront and confound various authority figures. In this last category I include, for his purposes, not only judges and prosecutors, but also his defense attorneys.

In a certain sense, Mr. Bundy is a producer of a play that attempts to show that various authority figures can be manipulated, set
against each other, and placed in positions of conflict. Mr. Bundy does not have the capacity to recognize that the price for producing this ‘thriller’ might be his own life. Mr. Bundy the Lawyer does not recognize that his client, Bundy the Defendant, is not being adequately represented.

We have here an individual who has had a history of antisocial behavior during his adolescence. There is history of poor occupational performance and antisocial behavior during adult life—one felony conviction in Utah and the unfinished trial for homicide in Colorado. Furthermore, there is an undisputed history of forgery, stealing of cars, etc.

In the interview situation there is no symptomatology consistent with psychotic illness. The overall demeanor is typical for an individual suffering from a personality disorder.

Whether or not this condition is considered mental illness for criminal law purposes is a subject of controversy within law and psychiatry. In the past this particular condition was called psychopathy; at the present time the term antisocial personality is more commonly used. There are those who believe that this condition is merely a variant of normality, whereas others insist that this is a genuine illness. It is my view that sociopathy, if sufficiently severe, is an illness in as much as there is impairment of a variety of psychic functions. Among others, sociopaths have a peculiar sensitivity to intoxicating substances, particularly alcohol. Many of the more bizarre crimes committed by sociopaths are in response to alcohol consumption. The psychopathology of a sociopath is not easily recognized because they do not provide symptoms easily recognized by a lay person or even a psychiatrist. Sociopaths understandably arouse a great deal of hostility and there is therefore a tendency to view them more as “bad” than as sick. Furthermore, they themselves deny that they suffer from an illness. Be that as it may, severe personality disorder does not justify an insanity defense.

I have carefully reviewed the Florida provisions dealing with incompetence to stand trial. I have serious doubts that Mr. Bundy has ‘sufficient present ability to consult with his lawyers with a reasonable degree of rational understanding.’ In view of this fact, it is my recommendation that a judicial determination of Mr. Bundy’s ability to stand trial be made.

Tom Holland x Medical Student (Y/N)

I’m going to be starting a new fanfic/imagine. It will be about our so beloved British boy, Tom Holland and a simple girl Y/N, who is a medical student.

Short Summary:

Tom and Y/N meet in a rather unexpected way. Y/N is a medical student doing an internship at a hospital, on that day she was assigned for the emergency department. Somehow Tom gets into that same hospital and meets Y/N. They kick it off instantly, but how will their story develop?

By the way I don’t seem to find a title lol. If you have any suggestions, I’d be really thankful. ENJOY ;)

 Part 1 

Today I was feeling great. I loved my job so far it gave me the possibility to see into all the diverse spheres of medical specialisations, which was very useful since I still hadn’t decided what to study.

I had had 4 coffees, which is a personal record. Soon my shift would be over and I’d be going home get ready so that I could go out with my friends. It was my friend’s birthday and I promised I’d go out with them even, if I’d rather stay at home and get some sleep. But what should I wear tonight…?

“Y/N can you come over to see some patients” my supervising doctor called me over, I snapped form my day dream and rushed to where I was needed.

The doors of the emergency room opened. People were shouting out of the building, flashes came from outside. They were all calling a name. the voices were muffled, a guy appeared.

“Is there a doctor here? I think I need some stitches…” he said calmly as if nothing was wrong with him. I looked at him and saw he was holding his left arm with some bandages. “Are you a doctor?” he asked me and shrugged. I know his face. Where have I seen him before. I nodded at him telling him to follow me. I put him in the next bed and closed the curtain.

“Dr. Anderson will be shortly with you, let me get your bandages.” I said moving toward him. Dr. Anderson appeared from behind the curtain and took a look at the boy’s arm.

“It’s only a superficial cut nothing too serious. However, I need to ask what happened exactly, Mr. …?”

“Holland” a brief answer, I kept watching him from a distance

“Well I was practicing some stunts and I fell from the trampoline and cut myself on a piece of metal”

“Ok, did you hit your head?” he nodded slightly

Dr. Anderson finished stitching his wound and turned to me “Dr. Y/L/N will be doing the last checks. I believe that you are alright, but some patients need me right now more and my assistant here can do these check-ups very well on her own.” Dr. Anderson smiled shook Mr, Hollands hand and went to his next patient.

I cleared my throat and turned to the attractive patient that I’ve seen somewhere but still wasn’t able to recall from where… “So Mr. Holland I will do some very quick check-ups and you’ll be right out of here.” I moved toward the patient. My hands were all sweaty all of a sudden. WTF was going on here. Y/N focus, you are such a perv for having the hots for a patient! He looks at me with beautiful brown eyes and smiles slightly. Let’s just say that in that moment I was really happy that humans couldn’t read minds.

“Okay Mr. Holland I’ll need to check your sight first” I inform him taking my little flash light out of my pocket of my coat. “follow the light”, he does as I said. “mhm, so your sight is alright. Do you feel dizzy or something?” I try to hold his gaze and he grins. My cheeks are on fire. This is so embarrassing. He chuckles and replies “no, I feel okay”

“I’ll need to check for your heart and lungs”, a lump form in my throat I can’t believe I’m about to say this. “Can you take your shirt off, please?” He does what I tell him. And Holly molly I was not prepared for this sight. He was ripped. Yeah, my hormones were going nuts. I bite my lip. I decide to start with his back, not feeling ready to be in front of him touching his chest.

I put my stethoscope on and put it on his back. “Breathe in” I move it slightly “exhale”. But I think I was telling myself to keep breathing and not him. I repeat the process, my palms getting sweatier. Okay, Y/N now you only need to control his chest and you’re done. I move to put the stethoscope on his chest. He sits straighter.

“Soo, Dr.Y/L/N. Have you been a doctor for a long time? You are pretty young to be a doctor?” he tries to break the ice. I dare to look up to him. MISTAKE, abort mission!

“I’m doing an internship. I’m a medical student. I’m 20 years old, but I finished High school early… That’s why I’m pretty young compared to other interns”, I swallow hard and he smiles looking at me, his eyes never leaving mine. “Let’s finish this examination, Mr. Holland” I manage to say.

Dr. Anderson left some meds for hot guy over here and an appointment to remove the stitches. He thanks me and gets up from the patient bed he was sitting on.

“Umm, Dr. do you have like another exit, one that is not really used by normal patients?”, he asks me.

“Mr. Holland, why do you need a different exit?”

In that moment I opened the curtain and a little kid, who was about 5 years old points at Mr. Holland and smiles up. “Spiderman what are you doing here?”, the kids’ eyes shine with pride and joy. SPIDERMAN?! I look back at the guy I just examined. He surpasses me and kneels down so that he is the same height as the little boy. He ruffles his hair and tells him about his injury.

“You see I was fighting evil guys, but got hurt. So I came here so that the Dr. could help me out”, he explains to the little boy pointing at me. I freeze. What? The kid takes a look at me and decides to come over and hugs my leg. “Thank you doctor for helping Spiderman!” he smiles sweetly. I do the same and look at Mr. Holland. His smile is full of happiness and satisfaction. He gave me one of those smiles that reaches the eyes and I feel all mushy inside. The boy goes back to his mother.

“Mr. Holland, will you follow me please?” I smile slightly. He follows me. I show him the entrance and exit for all doctors.

“This is a good exit”, I tell him, biting my lip again. How old are you Y/N?! 12 for being nervous around a guy?

“Thanks dr.”

“You are welcome, good bye Mr. Holland”, he is already walking away from me, but then turns around

“My name is Tom.”, he flashes a grin. He waves at me and I watch him leave.

“Bye, Tom…” I reply barely a whisper. In that moment I wonder, if I’ll see him again. Something tells me this wasn’t the last time. I smile.

Originally posted by greysanatomytime

Originally posted by chrisbeck

Part 2