𝓛𝓲𝓵𝔂⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

Hello! My name is Lily, I’m a 19yr writing for shits and giggles

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I love video games, perfume, fashion, movies, and erotica

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My blog is a safe space for all!

𝓜𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽

Chapter: 1 I hate doctors (Victor Gideon x Reader)

Warnings: eventual sex, dubcon, noncon, anxiety, enemies to lovers(type shit), gore, maybe ooc, size difference, size kink, power indifference, mentally ill reader, dacryphilia, agoraphobic reader, bdsm elements, reader is fem coded, age gap, reader is a complicated person, negative talk and thoughts about mental illness and mental health clinics

This fic is 18+ please and thank you!!

A/N: First time writing kinda nervous, sorry if this is butt, not proof read nglll

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*.・゜゜・༶

Readers pov

When becoming an adult no one really prepares you for the real world. I remember my teenage years being wasted with low paying jobs, scummy partners, and useless anxieties. People tell you anxiety is something that you grow out of or that everyone struggles with it. A teenager will believe most things you tell them, maybe now I hope I grow out of it.

I never thought my anxiety had became a problem, I mean I had a job, friends, I still lived at home, but most young adults do, I would argue it’s normal. My mother became worried when she first noticed I would only go to work, home, grocery store repeat.

My mother was loving but she couldn’t understand it, neither could I to be honest. Some days I wished I was someone different, someone who could go out without feeling sick, someone who had a more exciting life. I felt so silly for having these childish fears, I wasn’t even sure where the anxiety came from.

I went to a therapist when I was younger and she mentioned that most anxiety and panic disorders stem from childhood, but there wasn’t exactly a moment that I could pick out.

The day my world came crashing down seemed fine at first, getting ready for my minimum wage job, hearing the buzz from the city, it was all a ritual. Going to work was never an issue, I had the same job since high school after all, but something shifted. I felt sick, sick to my stomach. I stopped buttoning my shirt, I couldn’t do it. I wanted to cry, I was frustrated. This couldn’t be over going to work, it wasn’t possible. I stood there waiting for it to pass, but it never did.

I don’t remember how much time passed, but my mother came into my room, confused why I hadn’t left yet. I broke down, sobbing, I almost fell over I was crying so much. I could tell even in my state, she was confused, maybe scared, maybe frustrated. I never found out.

My anxiety episodes never lasted long, but by the time it had ended I was already in my mom’s car and she was driving me to a facility. Being in a car with no idea where you were going is an odd feeling. She kept talking, saying how she’s read about this place, that it will be ‘good’ for me.

I wanted to believe her but I was too focused on how I didn’t get any say in this.

After all going to the loony bin with only the clothes on your back isn’t exactly the greatest feeling, but what did I know.

“This has been going on for years, I think it’s a good thing to finally find help.”

Even though my mother had good intentions I wasn’t able to understand why she had done this.

“It won’t be for long, these are the top leading medical professionals they’ll help you.”

I never thought I was ill enough to be sent away, but I guess I was sorely mistaken.

•*¨*•.¸¸☆*

When we finally made it there I was shocked my mother could even afford this place. This was rich person garbage.

“How long?” I asked like an idiot.

“Until you can function.”

Fair enough.

Stepping inside the interior matched the exterior. Clean and sterile but it had an edge to it, like it was trying to come off as distinguished.

The woman who greeted us seemed overly friendly. She didn’t speak to me about my own condition, I guess feeling like a kid is part of the experience here.

My mother and her talked for a while. I wasn’t listening to the conversation until my mother said that it was time she leave. One last hug and she was gone. I was alone.

“It’s a pleasure meeting you, welcome to Rhodes Hill.”

•*¨*•.¸¸☆*

I don’t consider myself a complainer, but my room wasn’t exactly the nicest, dated I think would be the word and everything was so blue and white.

“You’re very lucky since you’re in our psychiatric ward so you get your very own room.”

I suppose that’s luxury around here.

“I think you’ll find our therapy helpful, we’ve been working on a cutting edge for agoraphobics.”

I finally decide to break my vow of silence.

“I’m not an agoraphobic, I just have some anxiety.” Maybe that’s something an individual with agoraphobia would say.

Ignoring my comment she continued, “For now you’ll have a doctor meet with you once a week, if they aren’t suited for you then we will switch you over to another.”

“You’ll find everything you need here, you’ll be called for meal times, hygiene products are in your bathroom and will be provided, for now you’ll wear a gown, but if find you’re able we will give you your clothes back.”

I wanted to scoff, “I’m not suicidal nurse.”

She opened the curtains, “This is for your safety, it won’t be forever.”

“Just try to complete the therapy.” With that she left shutting the door.

I stared at the gown folded on the bed, I suppose I wasn’t getting a choice here.

•*¨*•.¸¸☆*

The first couple of weeks fly past me, wake up, meal time, once a week therapy with a random doctor, sleep. What a clinic.

I think the nurses and doctors were starting to get frustrated with me. Apparently I wasn’t making much progress and I couldn’t help but agree for once.

They would ask me questions about myself and give me mysterious medicine, sometimes a blood test or two. Was this really what my mother was wasting money on?

“You’re not trying to help yourself.”

Another week another scolding.

“Maybe I just don’t need the help.”

The doctor who was assigned to me was named Dr. Williams, who I wasn’t a fan of and from the screaming across the hall other patients weren’t fans as well.

“Do you know the director of this facility?”

“Why would I?”

He stood up getting ready to leave, “He’s a close colleague of mine, he’s interested in meeting you and trying to treat you.”

Now, I have little to no knowledge of the medical field but head director sounded important and I guess that made me nervous.

“The director? Am I untreatable or something?”

Maybe I shouldn’t have asked that.