#Hospital!au

[keehomania]

heartbeat (심장박동) — jung hoseok (정호석)

✧.* 18+

the dawn broke with a gentle caress across the landscape, casting a golden hue over the rolling hills and lush valleys. the sun, a celestial artist, painted the sky in strokes of pink and orange, reflecting its light upon the dew-kissed leaves of ancient trees. the air was crisp, carrying the scent of blooming cherry blossoms that danced in the soft breeze, their delicate petals fluttering like whispers of spring’s embrace. birds sang a symphony of melodies, their harmonious notes merging with the rustling of leaves, creating an orchestra of natural beauty that celebrated the beginning of a new day.

yet, this serene tableau of nature stood in stark contrast to the scene of devastation that unfolded in its wake. the earth had groaned and heaved, unleashing its wrath upon the serene landscape. an earthquake, a violent tremor of nature’s own making, had shattered the tranquility. the ground had buckled and cracked, splitting roads into jagged scars and toppling buildings that once stood as symbols of human achievement. streets were strewn with debris—broken glass, twisted metal, and splintered wood—forming a chaotic mosaic of destruction. the once-proud skyline was now marred by the skeletal remains of what had been homes and businesses. in the aftermath, smoke and dust hung in the air like a mournful shroud, obscuring the sun’s light and turning the beautiful morning into a somber canvas of ruin.

you had graduated from medical school that day. it was meant to be a day of celebration, a milestone achieved after years of relentless study and sacrifice. the ceremony had been a blur of proud smiles, academic robes, and congratulatory embraces. but the elation of that moment was short-lived, overshadowed by the impending catastrophe. you had planned to share the joy with your sister, who had been your pillar of strength through the trials and tribulations of medical school. she was your everything—the constant in your life, the one who had stood by you with unwavering support.

as you made your way home, your heart swelled with excitement at the thought of celebrating your achievement together. but when you arrived, the sight that greeted you was one of utter devastation. your home, once a haven of comfort and warmth, was now reduced to a heap of rubble. the realization struck you like a physical blow. there was no home. there was no sister. the world, which had seemed so vibrant and full of promise, was now an unrecognizable wasteland.

desperation drove you to search through the debris, your hands tearing through the wreckage with frantic determination. hours felt like an eternity as you sifted through the shattered remnants of your life. and then, amidst the ruins, you found her. she lay among the debris, her face pale and her breaths shallow. she was barely alive, her fragile form a haunting reminder of the day’s cruel turn of events. you rushed her to the nearest hospital, a frantic and disheveled figure, the gravity of the situation weighing heavily upon you. the hospital, too, bore the scars of the earthquake. the once orderly hallways were now chaotic, filled with the injured and the desperate. nurses and doctors moved with frantic efficiency, their faces marked by exhaustion and determination. you clung to the hope that she would recover, that the skilled hands of the medical professionals could restore her to health.

days passed in a haze of worry and sleepless nights. you watched and waited, your heartache mingling with hope. and then, the blow came. you were informed that your sister had passed away. the news struck you like a dagger, but the explanation that followed shattered you further. she had not died from her wounds or the effects of the earthquake but from a medical error. The very system you had dedicated your life to had failed her.

the gravity of the situation was almost too much to bear. the room seemed to close in on you, the walls pressing in as the weight of your grief and anger grew heavier. you felt a profound sense of betrayal, the very institution meant to save lives had failed you and your sister. it was a cruel irony, the culmination of your dream to be the best doctor, only to be faced with the harsh reality of its imperfections. in the midst of your overwhelming sorrow, a fire ignited within you—a resolve born of pain and loss. you vowed to honor your sister’s memory by dedicating yourself to medicine with an unyielding commitment to prevent such errors. it was a promise made in the darkest of times, a beacon of hope amidst the wreckage of your dreams.

the operating room was a sanctuary of focused intensity. the sterile, clinical environment buzzed with a sense of urgency as doctor jung hoseok, one of the best surgeons in the hospital, prepared for yet another high-stakes surgery. the cacophony of beeping monitors, the rhythmic whoosh of ventilators, and the murmur of medical staff created a symphony of controlled chaos.

you stood by hoseok’s side, your heart racing with a mixture of anxiety and determination. your hands were steady but your mind was a whirlwind, knowing the weight of responsibility that rested on everyone’s shoulders. the patient on the table, a young man in his early twenties, had sustained severe internal injuries from a collapsing building. Hoseok’s calm, authoritative presence was a beacon of reassurance amidst the turmoil.

“scalpel,” his voice cut through the tension, his tone clipped and precise. you handed him the instrument with practiced ease, watching as his skilled fingers moved with a deftness born of years of experience.

the surgery was a dance of precision and skill. he navigated through the intricate web of damaged organs with an expertise that left you in awe. his movements were a blend of grace and efficiency, every incision, every stitch, a testament to his dedication and mastery.

“clamps,” he called out, his gaze never leaving the patient. you quickly provided the tools, your own focus unwavering despite the mounting exhaustion. the room was hot, the smell of antiseptic mingling with the acrid tang of blood. as the surgery reached its climax, his expression remained a mask of concentration. the minutes stretched into hours as he worked tirelessly to stabilize the patient. you wiped sweat from your brow, your heart pounding as you held your breath, praying for a successful outcome.

finally, after what felt like an eternity, hoseok lifted his gaze, a weary but triumphant smile playing at the corners of his lips. “we did it,” he said, his voice carrying a note of relief. the patient’s vital signs stabilized, a small but significant victory amidst the overwhelming despair of the day.

but the triumph was short-lived. as you and hoseok stepped out of the operating room, you were greeted by the grim reality of the hospital’s waiting area. the scene was chaotic, filled with an overwhelming number of patients, their faces etched with pain and fear. the earthquake’s aftermath had left a trail of devastation, and the hospital was a crucible of suffering. you let out a heavy sigh, the weight of the situation pressing down on you. hoseok placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “we need to work as efficiently as we can,” he said, his tone steady and encouraging. “every moment counts.”

nodding, you moved swiftly through the maze of makeshift beds and emergency stations. the injured and the ill were everywhere—some lying on stretchers, others sitting in the narrow aisles, waiting for care. the sight was heart-wrenching, and you fought to keep your composure.

then, you spotted her—a young girl, no more than eight or nine, her face streaked with tears. she was clinging desperately to her coat, her small frame shaking with sobs. her wide, frightened eyes and the way she clutched at her coat stirred a profound sense of deja vu within you. she reminded you so much of your sister, and the resemblance was almost unbearable. you approached her gently, crouching down to her level. “hey, sweetheart,” you said softly, trying to mask the lump in your throat. “what’s your name?”

“jiwoo,” she sniffled, her voice trembling. “i want my mommy.” your heart ached as you lifted her into your arms, her tiny body trembling against you. “it’s gonna be okay,” you murmured, holding her close. “we’re gonna find your mommy, alright?” her cries were muffled against your coat as you walked with her through the bustling corridors. the sights and sounds of the injured—wounded soldiers, distressed families, and patients in various states of trauma—flashed by in a blur. each face you passed seemed to tell a story of suffering and hope, and the intensity of the scene made your stomach churn.

you guided jiwoo to the examination room, where a nurse greeted you with a warm but tired smile. “thank you,” you said, your voice filled with gratitude. “please, take good care of her.” the nurse nodded, taking her into her care, and you watched as the little girl’s gaze followed you with a mixture of hope and uncertainty. as you turned to leave, you felt a deep pang of sorrow and a renewed sense of purpose. each patient you saw, each story of survival and pain, was a reminder of why you had chosen this path.

the chaos of the hospital continued unabated as the hours dragged on, each moment marked by the relentless tide of patients streaming in from the aftermath of the earthquake. the corridors were a cacophony of urgent voices, desperate cries, and the clatter of medical equipment. hoseok moved among the chaos with a calm determination, his eyes scanning the scene with a mixture of resolve and weariness.

he paused briefly, his gaze taking in the grim reality of the situation. “we need to help everyone,” he said, his voice tinged with a fierce, unwavering conviction. “i want to, no, i need to help everyone.” his words were not just a declaration but a deep-seated promise that seemed to radiate from his very core. you understood the gravity of his statement all too well. the hospital, with its limited space and resources, was barely able to keep up with the flood of casualties. but his commitment was palpable, a beacon of hope amidst the stark limitations of the facilities. his eyes, usually so bright and cheerful, were now shadowed with a mixture of exhaustion and unyielding resolve.

“i promise you,” you said, matching his fervor with your own. “we will find a way to help as many people as we can.” your words were a pledge, born of the same fierce determination that drove him. his tired eyes softened with gratitude as he offered you a fleeting smile. “thank you,” he said quietly, his voice carrying a hint of warmth despite the fatigue that marked his features.

the moment of camaraderie was abruptly shattered by the anguished screams of a man. your head snapped towards the sound, your heart racing. a middle-aged man was crawling on the floor, his leg grotesquely open and bleeding profusely. his face was contorted with pain, and his cries cut through the din of the hospital like a knife. without a second thought, you and hoseok sprang into action. he barked orders with a commanding authority that drew the attention of nearby staff, and you quickly moved to assist. together, you helped load the man onto a stretcher, your hands working with a practiced urgency.

as the stretcher was wheeled away, you couldn't help but be struck by the sight. the man’s injury, so raw and brutal, mirrored the vision of your sister in the hospital’s aftermath. it was a harsh reminder of the fragility of life and the brutal reality of trauma. the sight made your knees buckle, a wave of nausea and grief crashing over you. before you could fully react, hoseok’s firm grip was on your arms. his touch was grounding, a lifeline amidst the storm of emotions that threatened to overwhelm you. “pull yourself together,” he said, his voice steady and reassuring. “everything will be fine. we’re here to help.”

his words were a balm to your frayed nerves, and you blinked away the tears that had begun to well up in your eyes. you took a deep breath, drawing strength from his presence and the urgency of the situation. “i’m okay,” you said, nodding with determination. “i’ll be okay.”

his gaze remained fixed on you for a moment longer, his expression a blend of concern and encouragement. then, with a decisive nod, he turned back to the chaos of the hospital, his focus unshaken. you followed him, your resolve steeled. the sight of the injured and the suffering no longer overwhelmed you but fueled your determination. each patient, each cry for help, was a call to action—a reminder of why you had chosen this path and why you would continue to fight against the odds.

the hospital’s corridors were a maze of urgent activity, and you moved through them with a focused intensity, guided by the steady presence of hoseok. the once immaculate walls were now splattered with the harsh realities of an earthquake’s aftermath, the floors slick with spilled fluids and the air thick with the acrid scent of antiseptic and exhaustion.

the first patient you approached was an elderly woman with a fractured arm and a deep gash on her forehead. her eyes, though tired and pained, reflected a resilience that touched you deeply. you carefully cleaned her wounds, speaking in soothing tones as you worked. “you’re going to be okay,” you assured her, your voice gentle. “we’re going to make sure you’re comfortable and taken care of.”

hoseok stood nearby, his eyes attentive as he watched you work. he occasionally offered guidance, his voice calm and authoritative. “apply a sterile dressing over the wound,” he instructed, his tone carrying the weight of his expertise. “we need to monitor her for signs of infection.”

as you followed his directions, you couldn’t help but notice the way his gaze softened with approval. “you’re very gentle,” he remarked, his voice filled with genuine admiration. “you have a way of calming people with your touch.” you offered him a small smile, the compliment a balm to your tired spirit. “thank you,” you replied. “among the staff, it seems like no one else is as driven to help everyone as we are. it’s not just about doing our job—it’s about making a difference.”

he nodded thoughtfully, his expression thoughtful. “you’re right,” he said. “in times like these, it’s easy to get overwhelmed by the sheer number of patients. but it’s our dedication and compassion that make the difference.” you moved on to your next patient, a young boy with a deep cut on his leg. his face was streaked with tears, and he clung to his father, who looked equally distraught.

you knelt beside him, your hands gentle as you cleaned the wound. “i know it hurts,” you said softly, trying to comfort him. “but we’re gonna fix you up, and you’ll be running around again in no time.”

hoseok joined you, examining the boy’s injury with a practiced eye. “we’ll need to stitch this up,” he said, his voice reassuring. “but first, let’s make sure he’s numb so he doesn’t feel any pain.”

as you administered the local anesthetic, he watched with a critical but approving gaze. “you’re doing well,” he said. “Yyur patience with the children is remarkable. it’s important to keep their fears at bay.” you nodded, grateful for his guidance. “it’s easy to be patient when you’re reminded of what’s at stake,” you replied. “when you see their families, you understand just how crucial every moment is.”

next, you tended to a woman in her thirties who had sustained multiple fractures. Her eyes were filled with a mix of pain and fear, and her breaths came in sharp, shallow gasps. you worked swiftly but carefully, applying splints and checking her vital signs. hoseok stood beside you, offering occasional words of advice and encouragement. “she’s in a lot of pain,” you said, your voice tight with concern. “we need to manage her pain effectively to prevent shock.”

hoseok nodded, his eyes sharp as he assessed the situation. “administer a dose of morphine,” he instructed. “we need to ensure she’s stable before we can move her to the operating room.” you administered the medication, watching as the woman’s breathing slowly eased. hoseok placed a hand on your shoulder, a gesture of solidarity. “you’re handling this exceptionally well,” he said. “your attention to detail and compassion are exactly what we need.”

as the hours wore on, you continued to work tirelessly under hoseok’s watchful eye. each patient presented a new challenge, and you tackled each with a blend of skill and empathy. from applying dressings to performing initial assessments, every action was a step toward healing and hope. despite the exhaustion that gnawed at you, his praise and the knowledge that you were making a difference kept you going. the hospital’s once chaotic atmosphere began to feel more manageable, and your sense of purpose grew stronger with each patient you helped.

at one point, as you paused to take a brief break, hoseok joined you, his expression a mix of admiration and weariness. “you’ve been incredible today,” he said, his voice filled with sincerity. “your dedication is inspiring. it’s not often that you find someone with such a genuine drive to help.”

you smiled, the compliment a bright spot in the midst of the chaos. “i just want to make sure we’re doing everything we can,” you said. “in times like these, it’s about more than just medical care. it’s about being there for people when they need it the most.” hoseok’s eyes softened with a mixture of respect and gratitude. “and you’ve done just that,” he said. “it’s an honor to work alongside someone who shares the same commitment to helping others.”

the atmosphere in the hospital was charged with a tense energy as the chief of administrators confronted hoseok in the bustling hallway. the chief, a stout man with a stern expression, gestured sharply with a stack of papers. his voice, though not loud, was laden with authority and frustration. “hoseok,” the chief said, his tone clipped. “you’re being rash. you can’t seriously expect us to take care of every patient with the resources we have. this hospital is far too small to handle this influx. we’re stretched beyond our limits.”

hoseok’s face darkened with a mix of anger and resolve. “it is possible,” he snapped, his voice rising in frustration. “it’s possible if we put in the work and don’t just accept the limitations as insurmountable obstacles. we have to try.”

the chief’s eyes narrowed, his patience wearing thin. “i understand your dedication, but you’re pushing the boundaries of reason. if you were anyone else, you’d be reprimanded severely, perhaps even fired. you’re only being tolerated because of your skills.” the words were a cold slap, but hoseok’s reaction was fierce. “if my commitment to my patients is a problem,” he said, his voice sharp and defiant, “then maybe it’s this system that needs to change. i won’t be dissuaded by bureaucracy.”

with that, he turned on his heel, his stride purposeful and quick as he stormed off down the corridor. the chief’s frustrated mutterings followed him, but hoseok was already lost in his own storm of emotions. you watched him go, torn between the need to respect his space and the desire to offer support. without a second thought, you followed him, your footsteps echoing in the emptying corridor. you found him standing by a large window in an empty lounge area, his back to you as he gazed out at the darkening sky. the setting sun cast a warm, golden hue over the scene, but it did little to ease the storm brewing within him.

you hesitated, feeling the weight of the moment. the silence between you was thick with unspoken words, and the gravity of the situation pressed heavily on your shoulders. finally, you approached him, your voice soft but resolute.

“hoseok,” you began, gently. “i know the situation is overwhelming. I know what the chief said—he’s right about the limitations we’re facing. but i want you to know something.” he turned to face you, his expression a blend of exhaustion and a flicker of vulnerability. “what is it?” he asked, his voice strained but curious.

“i understand your determination,” you continued, your gaze steady. “i understand it more than you might think. i’ve faced loss and pain, and it drives me to do everything i can to help others. i’d do anything in my power to make sure your idea succeeds. because while i can’t bring my sister back, this is the least I can do. i’ll have your back, no matter what.”

his eyes softened with gratitude, the harsh lines of frustration easing as he listened to you. “thank you,” he said, his voice quiet but filled with sincere appreciation. “your support means more than i can express. it’s hard to keep going when it feels like the world is against us.”

you smiled, the gesture a small comfort in the midst of the storm. “we’ll make it happen,” you assured him. “we’ll find a way. we have to.” he nodded, the resolute spark returning to his eyes. “yes,” he agreed. “we will. together, we can make a difference. thank you for standing by me.” you shared a moment of silent understanding, the bond between you strengthened by shared determination and mutual respect. as you both prepared to return to the fray, the sense of unity and purpose was a powerful reminder of why you were here—to fight for every patient, to push through the limits, and to make a difference in the face of overwhelming odds.

you stepped outside into the cool night air, desperately seeking a reprieve from the ceaseless pressure of the hospital. the city, bathed in the soft glow of streetlights, bore the marks of the earthquake’s fury. the streets were littered with debris, and the remnants of collapsed buildings loomed like broken skeletons against the skyline. the sky, a deep indigo, seemed too vast and indifferent to the suffering below.

the air was sharp and carried with it the distant sounds of sirens and the hushed murmurs of survivors. you inhaled deeply, trying to steady your racing heart. yet, the sight of the devastation—once familiar landmarks now in ruins—overwhelmed you. every corner, every shattered window, was a reminder of the chaos that had turned lives upside down. it felt as though the world had been upended, just as your own had been.

returning to the hospital was no easier. the interior was a frenetic blur of activity, the waiting room packed with patients, each one bearing their own story of agony and loss. the sight struck you like a physical blow. It was as if each face held a mirror to your own pain, reflecting the loss of your sister and the desperation you felt to make things right. you forced yourself to focus, to push past the wave of memories that threatened to engulf you. your next patient, an elderly man with a deep laceration on his abdomen, needed immediate attention. you moved with practiced efficiency, cleaning and stitching his wound with hands that trembled despite your best efforts to keep them steady.

the elderly man winced occasionally, his eyes cloudy with pain but also trust. You spoke to him softly, trying to offer some comfort. “you’re doing great,” you reassured him. “we’re almost done, and soon you’ll be on the road to recovery.” his breathing was labored, but he nodded in acknowledgment, his fingers grasping the edge of the examination table. you worked meticulously, careful to ensure each stitch was placed correctly. the procedure was intense, but you found solace in the rhythm of your actions, the repetition allowing you to block out the chaotic thoughts that threatened to invade.

finally, the wound was closed, and the elderly man’s breathing began to even out as the pain eased. you cleaned up, your movements automatic, your exhaustion palpable. as you finished, you collapsed into a chair beside the bed, your head falling into your hands. the weight of the day seemed to press down on you, and you could no longer remember the last time you had slept or even rested properly.

the door creaked open, and you barely registered hoseok’s entrance. he walked in with the calm assurance that had become a hallmark of his presence. his eyes scanned the room, taking in the patient’s steady, restful state. he then turned his gaze to you, noting your worn-out appearance. with a gentle step, he approached and took a seat in the chair next to yours. his presence was a comforting anchor amidst the storm of exhaustion and emotions. you could feel the warmth of his body close by, and despite the chaos, it offered a rare moment of tranquility.

you could feel your eyes growing heavy, the fatigue finally overtaking you. as you drifted into sleep, his gaze remained fixed on you. he watched as the strain on your face eased, replaced by a serene expression. it was a stark contrast to the tumultuous day, a brief moment of peace in the midst of a whirlwind.

his smile was soft, a mix of admiration and affection. he leaned back in the chair, letting his gaze linger on you. the sight of you, so vulnerable and yet so resolute, stirred something deep within him. he whispered to the quiet room, “what are you, indeed? peaceful at all times. what are you?” his question hung in the air, a contemplative murmur to the stillness of the night. as you slept, your breaths steady and even, hoseok remained by your side, his thoughts a tangled web of admiration and concern. the hospital’s relentless pace continued outside, but within this small, quiet corner, there was a rare moment of stillness—a respite from the storm, where two souls found solace in each other’s presence amidst the chaos.

as you slept fitfully, a small, folded photograph slipped from your pocket and fluttered to the floor. hoseok’s keen eyes caught the movement, and he picked up the photo with a gentle curiosity. he unfolded it carefully, revealing a picture of a little girl—her bright eyes and infectious smile captured in a moment of pure joy.

hia heart sank as he studied the photograph, the resemblance to the patient you had treated earlier unmistakable. the realization struck him hard. this was the sister you had spoken of, the one whose loss had driven your unyielding determination. the weight of the truth settled heavily in his chest, and he felt a pang of sorrow for your loss. with a tender, sad smile, hoseok tucked the photograph back into your pocket, his fingers brushing softly against the fabric. he watched you, the burden of your pain and the drive that had fueled your tireless work now deeply understood.

as the night wore on, you stirred in your sleep, caught in the midst of a vivid dream. In your dream, you were in a beautiful meadow, bathed in the soft, golden light of dawn. the air was filled with the delicate fragrance of blooming flowers, and the gentle rustle of leaves created a serene melody. amidst this tranquil setting, you saw her—your sister. she was there, as clear and radiant as the sun itself, her smile warming the entire scene. you reached out, your heart leaping at the sight of her, but she remained just out of your grasp. every step you took towards her seemed to distance her further away, and your pleas for her to come closer went unanswered. you could feel the overwhelming love and longing that had been bottled up inside you, a potent mix of joy and heartache.

but as you stretched out your arms, the dream began to dissolve. the colors bled together, the image of your sister fading into the indistinct blur of waking reality. you jolted awake, tears streaming down your face as you realized it had been nothing but a fleeting dream. the emptiness and loss that had filled your heart so vividly in the dream now echoed painfully in the real world. you sobbed quietly, the grief of the dream and the reality of your sister’s absence crashing together in a wave of sorrow. hoseok, sensing your distress, immediately moved to your side. he wrapped his arms around you with a comforting embrace, his presence a steady anchor in the midst of your emotional storm.

“it was her,” you choked out between sobs. “she was right there, how could it be just a dream?” his voice was soothing, filled with a deep, empathetic understanding. “i know it hurts,” he murmured, his hand gently rubbing your back. “it’s hard when dreams feel so real. but she’s with you in your heart. i promise you, we’ll get through this.”

he held you close, his warmth a balm to your aching soul. “everything will be okay,” he continued, his voice steady and reassuring. “you’re not alone in this. i’m here, and we’ll face it together.” as you leaned into his embrace, the comfort of his words and the strength of his support began to soothe the raw edges of your grief. the reality of the hospital and the endless stream of patients loomed in the background, but in that moment, all that mattered was the connection between you and hoseok. his presence was a testament to the solidarity and hope that could still be found amidst the overwhelming challenges.

the following morning, the hospital buzzed with its usual rhythm of controlled chaos. you had barely begun your rounds when the loudspeaker crackled to life, calling out an emergency in the er. hoseok’s eyes met yours, concern etched into his features as the announcement detailed the situation.

without a word, you both sprinted towards the room, hearts pounding. as you rounded the corner, the sight that greeted you made your breath catch in your throat. there, on a gurney, was jiwon, the little girl you had previously encountered. her condition had deteriorated drastically. the deep wounds on her small body had festered, turning into something far more ominous. her big, frightened eyes locked onto yours, and in that instant, the world seemed to slow. her face blurred and morphed, and for a horrifying moment, it wasn’t jiwon you saw but your sister—her eyes pleading, her body frail and helpless. the room seemed to close in on you, the sounds around you muffling as memories of your sister surged to the forefront of your mind.

you couldn’t move. you stood there, rooted to the spot, the enormity of your grief and shock rendering you immobile. your heart pounded in your ears, your vision tunneled. all you could see was the image of your sister, her final moments replaying in your mind like a cruel, endless loop. you had failed her, and now, there was jiwon, looking at you with the same desperate hope. hoseok, seeing your distress, moved quickly to your side. “hey, pull it together,” he said, his voice firm but laced with worry. you barely registered his words, your mind trapped in the past.

he shook you gently but urgently. “it’s what your sister would have wanted. she would want you to save this girl.” his words cut through the fog of your panic, grounding you. your sister. she had always admired your strength, your dedication. she wouldn’t want you to falter now. with a deep, shaky breath, you forced yourself to focus. you nodded, though the motion felt heavy and slow. together, you and hoseok ushered jiwon into the room, the weight of the moment pressing down on you but not breaking you.

inside the operating room, the atmosphere was tense, the air thick with urgency. hoseok scrubbed in, his movements precise and practiced. you followed suit, your hands steadying as you slipped into the familiar routine. “scalpel,” he requested, his voice steady. you handed it to him, your fingers brushing against his in a brief moment of silent solidarity. the incision was made, and the surgery began.

blood oozed from the wound, and you worked swiftly to suction it away, giving hoseok a clear view. the injury was worse than you had feared. necrotic tissue had to be removed, the infection threatening to spread further if not contained. “hemostat,” he ordered, and you placed the instrument in his hand, your eyes never leaving the surgical site. the room was filled with the sounds of monitors beeping, the soft swish of the ventilator, and the occasional murmur of instructions.

his focus was unyielding as he navigated through the intricate web of tissue and blood vessels. “clamp here,” he directed, and you followed, the metal tool snapping shut with a decisive click. time seemed to blur, the minutes stretching into an eternity as you worked in unison, battling to save jiwon’s life. the infection was stubborn, but hoseok’s skill was unparalleled. together, you cut away the dead tissue, flushing the wound with antibiotics, suturing each layer with meticulous care. every stitch, every cut, was a step towards hope, a fight against despair. finally, the last suture was placed, and the wound was closed. you exhaled a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. the surgery had been a success, but the emotional toll was heavy.

you pulled off your gloves and mask, your gaze drifting to jiwon’s still form on the operating table. the anesthesia kept her unconscious, her small chest rising and falling with each breath. you moved to her side, pulling up a stool and sitting next to her. her tiny hand lay limp on the bed, and you gently took it in yours, your heart aching. tears welled up in your eyes as you watched her, the image of your sister still haunting you. you squeezed her hand softly, a tear slipping down your cheek. “everything will be okay,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “i promise you.”

more tears followed, a silent stream of grief and hope mingling. hoseok approached from behind, his presence a comforting warmth. he wrapped his arms around you, his chin resting gently on your shoulder. “she’ll pull through,” he murmured, his voice soft and reassuring. “you did great.” you leaned back into him, drawing strength from his embrace. the weight of the past and the uncertainty of the future seemed a little more bearable with him by your side.

as you and hoseok stood vigil over her, a muffled commotion echoed through the walls, drawing your attention. exchanging a worried glance with him, you both hurried to the waiting room, the sound growing louder with each step. the scene that greeted you was chaotic. a man stood at the center of the room, his face contorted in rage. he was shouting, his voice a furious torrent of accusations and frustration. the other patients and staff looked on, too stunned or afraid to intervene.

you stepped forward, your voice steady despite the pounding of your heart. “sir, i understand you’re upset, but we’re doing everything we can. we’re short on equipment, but we haven’t stopped working to help everyone.”

his eyes, wild with anger, locked onto yours. “everything you can?” he spat. “my wife is bleeding out and you’re telling me you’re doing everything you can?” he took a menacing step towards you, and before you could react, his hands shot out, wrapping around your throat. the world tilted as his grip tightened, cutting off your air. your hands flew to his, desperately trying to pry them off. your vision blurred, dark spots dancing at the edges. you could hear the frantic shouts of the staff and the gasps of the patients, but they seemed distant, muffled.

hoseok’s voice cut through the haze, sharp and commanding. “let go of her,” he was by your side in an instant, his hands tearing the man’s grip from your throat with a force you didn’t know he possessed. he pushed you behind him, shielding you with his body. he grabbed the man by the collar, pulling him close. his voice was low, dangerous. listen to me,” he growled. “we’re doing everything we can with what we have. everyone here is waiting for treatment, and so will you. if you ever lay a hand on her again, you’ll be waiting for a casket, not treatment. do you understand?”

the man’s eyes widened, fear replacing the anger as he nodded, hoseok’s grip still firm on his collar. he released the man, who stumbled back, cowed and silent.

you stood there, shaken, your hand pressed to your throat where the man’s fingers had dug in. hoseok turned to you, his expression softening with concern. he pulled you close, his fingers tracing the bruises forming on your neck. “are you alright?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. you nodded, your voice hoarse. “i’m fine, really. but hoseok, you can’t risk your position like that. what if something happened to you?”

he cupped your face in his hands, his eyes intense. “nothing is more important than you. do you understand? not my position, not this hospital. nothing.” tears welled up in your eyes at the sincerity in his voice. you leaned into his touch, the world around you fading away as you found solace in his presence. “thank you,” you whispered. “for everything.”

as the tension in the waiting room began to settle, the hospital’s chief appeared, his stern expression cutting through the residual chaos. he made his way directly to hoseok, his eyes narrowing. “dr. jung,” he said, his voice calm but carrying an undeniable weight of authority. “my office. now.” hoseok nodded, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze before following the chief down the sterile, fluorescent-lit corridor. you watched him go, anxiety twisting in your stomach.

in the chief’s office, the atmosphere was heavy with unspoken reprimands. hoseok took a seat, his back straight, his eyes fixed on the older man who stood behind the large wooden desk.

“what the hell was that out there?” the chief began, his voice hard and unyielding. “do you realize the scene you made? this is a hospital, not a boxing ring.” hoseok’s jaw tightened, but he kept his tone even. “that man was choking her. no one else did anything. i had to step in.”

the chief sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “i know the toll the earthquake has taken on everyone, including you. we’re all under immense pressure, and tempers are frayed. but you need to understand that your position here is already on thin ice.” hoseok’s heart dropped, a cold wave of dread washing over him. the room seemed to shrink, the walls pressing in as the chief continued.

“you’re a good doctor, hoseok,” the chief said, his voice softer now. “but i can’t ignore the incident. that medical error—the one that led to the failed surgery and the death of that little girl—it’s not something we can afford to forget. you need to be more careful. one more mistake, and your career could be over.”

the words hit him like a physical blow. he felt a chill run through his veins, the memory of that night flashing before his eyes. the sterile operating room, the smell of antiseptic, the panicked beeping of the monitors. and then the silence. the deafening silence after the little girl’s heart had stopped. he forced himself to nod, his voice tight. “i understand. i’ll be careful.”

the chief’s eyes softened slightly, but the severity of his words remained. “i’m not saying this to punish you, hoseok. i’m saying it because you’re a talented doctor. don’t let your emotions jeopardize everything you’ve worked for.” he stood, the weight of the conversation settling heavily on his shoulders. “thank you, sir. i’ll keep that in mind.”

as he left the office, the gravity of the chief’s warning pressed down on him. the memory of your little girl’s lifeless body haunted him, a constant reminder of his fallibility. the stakes had never felt higher.

returning to the waiting room, he found you standing there, worry etched into your features. you rushed to him, your eyes scanning his face for any sign of what had transpired.

“what happened?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. he gave you a reassuring smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “just a reminder to keep my cool,” he said, his voice steady but carrying the weight of the chief’s warning. “we need to be careful. both of us.” you nodded, understanding the unspoken implications. the hospital was a place of healing but also a place where mistakes could cost lives and careers. together, you would navigate these treacherous waters, leaning on each other for strength.

the minutes turned into hours as the hospital faced an onslaught of patients, each with their own urgent needs. the air was thick with the sounds of pain and desperation, interspersed with the beeping of monitors and the hurried footsteps of medical staff. a young man was wheeled in, clutching his abdomen, his face contorted in agony. “it’s appendicitis,” hoseok diagnosed quickly. “we need to operate immediately.” you assisted in prepping him for surgery, your hands steady as you administered anesthesia, feeling the weight of the man's trust in your hands.

next came an elderly woman, her breathing labored and her skin pallid. hoseok listened to her chest, his brow furrowing in concentration. “pulmonary edema,” he said, his voice decisive. “we need to get her stabilized.” you moved swiftly, setting up an iv and administering medication, feeling the tension ease slightly as her breathing became more regular.

throughout the chaos, hoseok’s praise for your work was a steady undercurrent. “you’re doing great,” he’d say, his eyes meeting yours with a reassuring smile. “i couldn’t do this without you.” each word of encouragement sent a flutter through your heart, grounding you amid the storm of activity.

a little boy was brought in next, his leg twisted at an unnatural angle. “fracture,” hoseok noted, his expression softening as he knelt beside the boy. “we’ll fix you up, champ.” you held the boy’s hand, distracting him with stories as hoseok expertly set the bone and applied a cast. the boy’s tears turned to a tentative smile, and you felt a surge of warmth at the sight.

an older man with a deep gash on his thigh was next. “this is going to need stitches,” hoseok said, his tone gentle as he cleaned the wound. you handed him the sutures, your fingers brushing briefly, a jolt of electricity passing between you. as he stitched the wound with precision, he glanced up at you. “we make a good team, don’t we?” you smiled, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks. “we do,” you agreed, your voice soft.

as the day wore on, the stream of patients seemed endless. you and hoseok moved in sync, your actions a well-rehearsed dance of medical efficiency and compassionate care. every now and then, his hand would find yours, a silent gesture of support that spoke volumes. by the time the sun began to set, the exhaustion was palpable. your muscles ached, and your mind buzzed with the day’s events. hoseok finished treating the last patient, a woman with a sprained ankle, and turned to you with a weary but proud smile. “you were amazing today,” he said, his voice filled with genuine admiration.

“thank you,” you replied, feeling a sense of accomplishment despite your fatigue. “you too.” as you walked out of the hospital, the cool evening air was a welcome relief. the makeshift shower stations set up outside beckoned, promising a brief respite from the day’s grime and stress. uou grabbed a towel and stepped under the water, letting the cool droplets wash away the dirt and blood, a small sigh escaping your lips.

the evening had settled into a quiet lull, the chaos of the day finally giving way to a rare moment of peace. you stood beneath the shower, the water cascading over your tired body, washing away the grime and stress that had accumulated throughout the day. each droplet felt like a small blessing, providing a fleeting sense of relief. as you stood there, eyes closed, lost in the sensation of the water, you heard the soft swish of the shower curtain. you didn’t tense up; you knew who it was even before his arms wrapped around your bare waist, pulling you back against his solid chest. hoseok's touch was gentle yet firm, his breath warm against your neck as he held you close.

“you did a good job today,” he murmured, his voice a soothing balm to your weary soul. “thank you,” you replied, your voice soft, filled with a mix of gratitude and exhaustion.

his lips brushed against your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. you turned around to face him, your eyes meeting his. despite the exhaustion etched into his features, he looked as gorgeous as ever. the soft spray of water from the shower highlighted the contours of his face, making him seem almost ethereal in the dim light. his hand cupped your cheek, his thumb gently brushing away the water that clung to your skin. his touch was tender, filled with an unspoken promise of comfort and affection. slowly, he leaned in, his lips meeting yours in a gentle kiss. it was a kiss filled with unspoken words, a desperate need for connection and relief from the day’s turmoil.

you kissed back, your hands finding their way to his shoulders, gripping them as if he were your lifeline. the kiss grew more heated, a sense of urgency taking over as the weight of the day’s events melted away in the intensity of the moment. his hands roamed your back, pulling you even closer, as if he couldn’t bear to let you go. the water continued to cascade around you, mingling with the heat of your embrace. each kiss, each touch, seemed to erase a little more of the day’s exhaustion, replacing it with a fervent need for each other. hoseok’s lips moved from your mouth to your jaw, trailing down your neck, leaving a trail of burning desire in their wake.

you arched into him, your breath hitching as his hands explored, finding the places that made you shiver with need. “hoseok,” you breathed, your voice a mix of longing and relief. he pulled back slightly, his eyes dark with desire as they met yours. “i need you,” he whispered, his voice hoarse with emotion. “right now, more than ever.”

without another word, he picked you up, your legs wrapping around his waist, the coldness of the hospital towel forgotten as you clung to him. his mouth returned to yours, the kisses deepening, growing more desperate with each passing second. the water pounded against your skin, the rhythm matching the beat of your racing heart. his hands slid down to your thighs, his fingers digging in as he held you tightly. you could feel his arousal pressing against you, and the realization sent a jolt of excitement through your body.

his mouth left your lips, his teeth grazing your earlobe as he whispered, “you’re so beautiful, so so beautiful.” his words were a potent aphrodisiac, sending a warm flush through your body. you moaned in response, your hands tangling in his hair. his kisses grew more insistent, his tongue tracing the line of your jaw before dipping down to your collarbone. you gasped as he sucked on the sensitive skin, his teeth lightly grazing the surface. the sensation was overwhelming, a delicious mix of pleasure and pain that had you squirming against him.

his hands found your tits, kneading them gently as his thumbs flicked over your nipples. you moaned again, louder this time, the sound echoing off the tiles of the shower. your hips rocked against him, seeking more contact, more friction. the need to be closer was overwhelming, the ache between your legs demanding attention. hoseok’s movements grew more urgent, his kisses more demanding. you could feel the tension coiling in his body, a mirror to the desire coursing through your own. you knew that this wasn’t just about sex; it was about connecting, about reaffirming the bond that had grown stronger with each passing day in the chaotic world.

his hands slid down, reaching between your legs, and you shuddered as his fingers found you, already wet and ready. “so good, baby,” he murmured, his voice thick with lust. you bit your lip, trying to hold back the whimpers that threatened to spill forth as he touched you, stoked the fire within you. your body begged for more, and hoseok, ever attentive, was more than happy to oblige.

his thumb circled your clit, sending waves of pleasure through your body, while his other hand supported you, holding you firmly against the wall of the shower. the cool tiles provided a stark contrast to the heat that was building within you. hoseok’s eyes never left yours, his gaze locked on you as if he could see straight into your soul. the intimacy of the moment was almost too much to handle, your love for him growing with each touch, each caress.

his fingers slipped inside you, and you threw your head back, the water now a backdrop to the symphony of sensations that were playing out between you. your hips bucked against his hand, seeking the release that was just out of reach. his strokes grew quicker, more insistent, as he whispered filthy, loving words into your ear. the shower was now a cocoon of passion, the sounds of the water mixing with your moans and gasps.

his other hand moved to the base of your spine, pressing you even closer to him, and you could feel the tip of his erection nudging against you. you were both trembling with need, the world outside the shower fading away until there was only the two of you, lost in a haze of desire. hoseok’s eyes searched yours, looking for permission, and you gave it willingly, nodding your head. without hesitation, he entered you, filling you up with one smooth, powerful thrust.

you cried out, your body stretching to accommodate him, the sensation almost too intense. he stilled for a moment, giving you time to adjust, before he began to move, his hips rolling into yours with a slow, steady rhythm that had you seeing stars. the water continued to cascade around you, a gentle reminder of the world outside, but in this moment, there was only the two of you, the heat of your bodies melding together, the sound of your breaths mingling with the patter of the rain.

his movements grew more urgent, his strokes deepening as he claimed you, his gentle doctor’s hands now possessive and firm. you matched his pace, your legs tightening around him, your nails digging into his back. the water rained down on you both, turning the steamy air into a sensual embrace that only heightened the passion of the moment. hoseok’s lips found yours again, his tongue delving deep as if trying to devour you whole. your kisses grew sloppy and desperate, your breaths mingling in a symphony of need.

his hand left your thigh, sliding up to grip your neck, holding you in place as he ravished your mouth. you felt the tip of his tongue trace the seam of your lips before pushing inside, and you responded eagerly, your own tongue dancing with his. the taste of mint toothpaste and the faint metallic hint of hospital air was intoxicating, a stark reminder of the reality that surrounded your clandestine escape into the steamy oasis.

you reached down to wrap your hand around his length, stroking him in time with his thrusts, feeling him pulse and throb in your grip. his eyes closed briefly, a look of pure ecstasy crossing his face, before snapping open to meet yours again. the intensity of his gaze was almost too much, but you held it, never breaking contact, as you pushed him closer to the edge. hoseok’s breathing grew ragged, his movements becoming more erratic as he approached climax.

his hand moved to cover yours, guiding your strokes, showing you just how he liked it. your other hand slid down to cup his back, pulling him into you with each thrust. the friction was exquisite, each movement bringing you closer to the precipice of pleasure. the sound of the shower was now a cacophony of splashing water, wet skin slapping against wet skin, and the grunts and moans of two lovers lost in the throes of passion.

hoseok’s eyes went wide, and he let out a guttural groan, his body stiffening as he came inside you. the warmth of his release sent you over the edge, your orgasm crashing over you like a wave. your legs tightened around him, your body shuddering with the force of it. he held you through it all, his arms strong and steady, whispering sweet nothings into your ear as you both rode the waves of pleasure.

as your climax subsided, he slowly pulled out, his eyes never leaving yours. you could see the love and adoration shining in them, a stark contrast to the raw lust that had been there moments before. hoseok kissed you gently, his touch tender as he set you down on unsteady legs. the water continued to fall around you, washing away the last remnants of the day’s tension as you stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, hearts racing and bodies spent. the steam cleared, and reality began to seep back in, but for now, you didn’t care about the world outside. all that mattered was the warmth of hoseok’s embrace, the feel of his skin against yours, and the quiet reassurance that, amidst the chaos, you had found something beautiful and true. you stepped out of the shower, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around your body, the soft fabric a gentle caress against your sensitive skin. hoseok followed, pulling you close once more, and you knew that, no matter what tomorrow brought, you would face it together.

the morning sun filtered through the cracks in the hospital blinds, casting a soft glow over the bustling emergency room. you stood at a patient’s bedside, your hands steady as you carefully adjusted an iv drip. the patient, an elderly woman with kind eyes, smiled weakly at you.

“thank you, dear,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. you returned her smile, your heart warmed by her gratitude. “just doing my job,” you replied gently, checking her vitals one last time before moving on to the next patient. the night had been long, and you felt the weight of exhaustion in your bones, but the memory of hoseok’s arms around you, his whispered reassurances, kept you going.

as you made your way down the corridor, you caught snippets of conversation from two nurses passing by. their voices were hushed, but not enough to prevent you from hearing their words.

“did you hear about (y/n) and doctor jung? i heard she seduced him for a better position and pay,” one of them whispered, a note of disdain in her voice. “typical,” the other replied, her tone equally scornful. “some people will do anything to get ahead.”

the words hit you like a punch to the gut. your heart churned, and for a moment, you felt a wave of nausea. you clenched your fists, fighting to keep your composure as the nurses’ voices faded away. at the same time, you heard a familiar voice by the door. “ignore them.”

you turned to see hoseok standing there, his eyes filled with a mixture of concern and determination. his presence was a balm to your wounded spirit. he crossed the room, his hand finding yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze. you took a deep breath, nodding. “thank you,” you whispered, the words barely audible. he smiled softly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “we’ve got more important things to focus on.”

with renewed determination, you continued your rounds, treating patients with the same care and dedication that had always driven you. you sutured wounds, administered medication, and offered comforting words to those in pain. each task was a reminder of why you had chosen this path, and why you wouldn’t let the cruel words of others deter you. one patient, a young boy with a broken arm, clung to his mother as you gently examined the injury. “it’s gonna be okay,” you told him, your voice soothing. ��we’ll get you all fixed up.” the boy looked at you with wide, trusting eyes. “promise?”

“i promise,” you said, your heart aching at his vulnerability. you worked quickly and efficiently, setting the bone and applying a cast while his mother watched with tears in her eyes. “thank you, doctor,” she said, her voice trembling with relief. “it’s my pleasure,” you replied, giving her a reassuring smile. as you finished up, you felt a hand on your shoulder. you turned to see hoseok standing beside you, his eyes filled with admiration.

“can we talk?” he asked softly. you nodded, following him to a quiet corner of the room. he turned to face you, his expression serious yet tender. “do you regret what happened last night?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. you shook your head, reaching up to cup his cheek. “no, i don’t. not for a second.”

his face softened with relief, a smile breaking through his serious demeanor. he leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek. “i’m glad,” he murmured. “because i don’t regret it either.” in that moment, surrounded by the relentless noise of the hospital, the weight of your responsibilities, and the harsh whispers of gossip, you felt a sense of clarity. you and hoseok were in it together, facing the challenges side by side. and no matter what the day would bring, you knew that as long as you had each other, you could endure anything.

the hours flew by in a whirlwind of activity. the emergency room was flooded with patients, and you and hoseok barely had a moment to breathe. each case demanded your full attention, and you threw yourself into your work, determined to make a difference. one of your patients was a middle-aged man with severe lacerations from a car accident. his face was pale, and he winced with every movement. “stay still for me,” you instructed gently as you cleaned the wound. his wife hovered nearby, wringing her hands in worry.

“will he be okay?” she asked, her voice trembling. “we’re doing everything we can,” you reassured her, glancing at hoseok, who was prepping the sutures. “he’s in good hands.” the man’s grip tightened on his wife’s hand as you worked together with hoseok to close the deep gashes. every stitch you made felt like a small victory, a reminder of the importance of your work.

“thank you, doctor,” the man said weakly as you finished, his voice filled with gratitude. “rest now,” hoseok added, his tone calm and authoritative. “you’re going to be fine.”

you moved on to the next patient, a young woman with a high fever and respiratory distress. you monitored her vitals, administered medication, and did everything you could to stabilize her. the relentless pace continued, and with each patient you treated, you felt the weight of responsibility grow heavier. finally, as the sun began to set, the flow of new patients slowed down. the exhaustion hit you like a wave, and you found yourself leaning against a wall, closing your eyes for a moment’s respite. hoseok appeared at your side, his expression mirroring your fatigue.

“let’s take a break,” he suggested softly. “we’ve done enough for now.” you nodded, too tired to argue. together, you walked outside, the cool night air a welcome relief from the stifling atmosphere of the emergency room. a small bonfire crackled nearby, providing warmth and light in the growing darkness. you both sat down, the flames casting flickering shadows on your faces.

he handed you a can of cheap soda, and you accepted it gratefully. you popped the tab and took a sip, the sweetness refreshing after the long day. he watched the fire for a moment before turning his gaze to you, the firelight illuminating his features. “what made you so determined?” you asked, breaking the silence. “i know why i’m here, but i’ve never asked about you.” hoseok sighed, his eyes distant as he stared into the flames. “at first, it was about the money. i wanted a stable career, something that paid well. but everything changed when the earthquake hit.”

you listened intently as he continued, his voice tinged with a mixture of sorrow and resolve. “there was a little girl who was rushed in during the chaos. she was so small, so fragile. i did everything i could to save her, but i made a mistake. a medical error. and she didn’t make it.” your heart ached at his words, a deep empathy stirring within you. “i understand,” you said softly, placing a hand on his arm. “i know that feeling all too well.”

hoseok looked at you, his eyes filled with a pain that mirrored your own. “i know you understand,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “because that little girl was your sister.” the world seemed to tilt on its axis. you stared at him, your mind struggling to process his words. “what? are you joking?”

“i wish i were,” he replied, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “when i saw the photo of her slip out of your pocket, i knew. i recognized her immediately.”

a torrent of emotions surged through you—shock, betrayal, anger. you pulled away from him, standing up abruptly. “you knew all this time and didn’t tell me?” hoseok stood up as well, his expression desperate. “i’m sorry. i didn’t know how to tell you. I thought—”

“you thought what?” you snapped, your voice rising. “that i wouldn’t find out? that it wouldn’t matter?”

he took a step towards you, his hands outstretched in a pleading gesture. “i did everything i could to save her. i swear. i’ve lived with that guilt every day.” you shook your head, tears streaming down your face. “i can’t believe this. i trusted you, hoseok.”

“please,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “i’m so sorry. i didn’t want to hurt you.” but you couldn’t hear his apologies over the roar of your own anguish. you turned and walked back into the hospital, each step heavy with the weight of betrayal. the familiar corridors felt alien now, and the faces of your colleagues blurred in your vision.

inside, you found a quiet corner and sank to the floor, your heart shattering with each passing second. the realization that hoseok, the man you had come to trust and care for, was connected to the most painful moment of your life was too much to bear. you wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to hold together the pieces of your broken heart. the hospital, once a place of solace and purpose, now felt like a labyrinth of pain and deceit. and as you sat there, alone and overwhelmed, you wondered if you would ever find a way to heal.

the night had already been filled with too much pain, but the worst was yet to come. the dull hum of the hospital was suddenly pierced by the shrill cry of an alarm. the emergency broadcast system crackled to life, filling the room with a foreboding announcement: “attention. a new earthquake is imminent. please proceed to the designated safety areas immediately.”

the sound of the alert was quickly followed by the frantic ringing of alarms. panic spread through the corridors like wildfire. the television screens mounted on the walls flickered with images of shaking buildings and terrified faces. staff members sprinted through the halls, urging patients and visitors to head for the basement. you were still reeling from the revelation of hoseok’s connection to your sister’s death, but the urgency of the situation snapped you into action. the chaos around you was overwhelming, but you focused on the immediate task at hand. the job you had taken on had always been about helping people, and in that moment, you had to live up to the commitment.

you grabbed a nearby nurse, her face ashen with fear. “we need to get everyone to the basement!” you shouted over the cacophony. “we’ll start with the patients in critical condition. follow me!” the nurse nodded, her expression resolute despite her trembling hands. together, you moved swiftly from room to room, helping patients to their feet and guiding them towards the emergency exits. the corridors were a maze of frantic movement and terrified faces.

“please, stay calm!” you yelled as you assisted an elderly woman in a wheelchair. “we’re getting you to safety.” as the ground began to rumble beneath you, a low, ominous growl filled the air. the hospital’s structure groaned as if protesting the force of the impending quake. your heart pounded in your chest as you ushered more patients into the basement, each tremor sending vibrations through the floor and walls.

with each passing moment, the intensity of the shaking increased. the walls swayed, and the ceiling tiles rattled loose, falling to the floor with a deafening crash. the alarms blared incessantly, adding to the din of panicked voices. in the basement, the scene was no less chaotic. people huddled together, their faces pale and eyes wide with terror. you made sure everyone was settled as best as they could be, then pushed your way through the throng of people, desperately searching for hoseok. his absence was an increasing source of dread.

“has anybody seen doctor jung?” you asked, your voice trembling despite your efforts to remain calm. no one answered, and your anxiety only grew.

the tremors beneath your feet grew stronger, and the ground shook violently. the basement walls trembled, and the ceiling seemed to ripple as if in a nightmarish dance. the sobs and cries of frightened families echoed through the confined space. “no, no!” you heard someone scream. “not again!”

the tremors were relentless, a relentless assault on your senses. you clung to a nearby support beam, your knuckles white with the strain. the shaking went on for what felt like hours, an endless barrage of terror and uncertainty. when the shaking finally ceased, a heavy silence settled over the basement. the air was thick with the scent of dust and fear. you looked around, your heart racing, searching for hoseok amid the sea of frightened faces.

“hoseok!” you shouted, but the name was swallowed by the silence. your eyes scanned the room frantically, but there was no sign of him. you approached one of the staff members, her face pale with exhaustion. “have you seen doctor jung? he was supposed to be here, helping—”

“i haven’t seen him since the earthquake started,” she said, her voice trembling. “he must still be upstairs.” a cold dread washed over you as the realization set in. if he was still up there, he was in grave danger. you moved towards the stairwell, but before you could take more than a few steps, a pair of strong hands grabbed your shoulders, pulling you back.

“it’s too dangerous!” a voice shouted. it was one of the security personnel. “we need to stay down here until we’re sure the building is stable!” you struggled against their hold, desperation making your voice raw. “i have to find him, he could be hurt.”

“we’ll send a search team once it’s safe,” the security guard said firmly. “you need to stay put.” you watched helplessly as the staff continued to reassure and comfort the frightened patients. your heart ached with each passing minute, knowing that hoseok was up there, alone and in danger. you couldn’t shake the image of him, his face filled with anguish and regret.

as the hours dragged on, the basement’s tension slowly dissipated. the quake had left the hospital in a state of disarray, but the immediate danger had passed. emergency lights flickered on, casting a harsh, eerie glow over the faces of those huddled together. you sat down on a bench, your body trembling from exhaustion and stress. the fear and sorrow were overwhelming, and the knowledge that he was still missing gnawed at you with relentless intensity. the events of the past days seemed to blur into one long, unending nightmare.

with each passing moment, you clung to the hope that hoseok would return, that somehow he would come back to you, alive and safe. but as the minutes ticked by and the search continued, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were losing him for good. the basement was a sea of tears and whispered fears, and you were adrift in the middle of it all, waiting for news that felt like it might never come.

the basement, once a haven of safety, now felt like an eerie waiting room, filled with the weight of anxiety and the suffocating hush of fear. the tension was palpable as everyone waited for news, the soft sobs of frightened families creating a haunting backdrop to the dimly lit space. you sat on the edge of a bench, your hands trembling, eyes darting towards the stairwell as if willing hoseok to appear.

the sound of hurried footsteps and the clamor of metal brought a sudden rush of urgency. a safety team burst into the basement, carrying a stretcher between them. the sight of their grim expressions only heightened your anxiety. as they made their way through the crowd, a small figure trailed behind them, her face streaked with tears. you recognized her immediately—jiwon, the little girl you had been so concerned about. your heart leaped at the sight of her. “jiwon!” you cried out, rushing towards her.

she ran into your arms, her sobs shaking her small frame. “i’m so glad to see you,” you said, tears streaming down your face. “i was so worried.” her tear-streaked face looked up at you, her eyes filled with both gratitude and sorrow. “i wouldn’t be here if he hadn’t rescued me,” she said between hiccupping breaths.

you frowned, confusion clouding your thoughts. “who are you talking about?”

she pointed to the stretcher being wheeled in. your heart dropped as you took in the sight of the man lying on it. it was hoseok. his once-immaculate white coat was now a tattered mess, stained with blood and grime. his face was marred by scratches, and his skin was torn and bruised from splinters. a gash in his leg bled profusely, and his breathing was shallow and labored.

panic surged through you as you pushed past the safety team and knelt beside him. “hoseok!” you cried, gently placing your fingers against his neck. the pulse beneath your fingertips was weak but present. relief mingled with the gnawing regret that had taken root in your heart. “hoseok!” you pleaded, your voice breaking as you examined his wounds. “please, stay with me.”

jiwon, her face still wet with tears, watched you with a look of deep concern. “he saved me,” she repeated, her voice quivering. “he kept me safe.”

you took a deep breath, fighting the wave of despair threatening to overwhelm you. “i need medical supplies!” you shouted to the team, your voice urgent. “now!” as the team scrambled to fetch the equipment, you turned your attention back to him. memories of his teachings flashed through your mind—everything he had shared about treating injuries, his instructions on how to handle severe trauma. with trembling hands, you began to clean the gash on his leg, your movements both desperate and precise.

the blood flowed freely, and you struggled to staunch the flow. you focused on each step, trying to push aside the guilt gnawing at you. “i’m sorry,” you whispered as you worked. “i’m so sorry.” the minutes stretched into what felt like an eternity. your hands worked methodically, applying pressure, cleaning the wound, and bandaging it with the skill you had learned from him. every time you looked at his face, every time you saw the pain and the sacrifice etched into his features, the regret and sorrow became nearly unbearable.

finally, after what felt like hours, you finished with his leg. you moved to his other injuries, performing basic first aid to stabilize him as best you could. each movement was a battle against the rising tide of emotion and the weight of your fears. with hoseok now stabilized, you stepped back, your heart aching as you looked at his battered form. you took his hand in yours, your tears falling onto his still face. “please,” you begged, your voice cracking with emotion. “please wake up. you have to stay alive. i need you. i forgive you—whatever happened, it doesn’t matter. i can’t lose you too.”

the silence of the basement was deafening as you continued to hold his hand, the enormity of what had happened crashing down on you. the walls seemed to close in, and the oppressive weight of the situation bore heavily on your shoulders. as you sat beside him, your pleas became more desperate. “hoseok, you have to come back to me. i know i’ve been angry, and i know there’s so much we haven’t said. but you’re the only one who understands, the only one who has been there for me. please, don’t leave me.”

jiwon, watching from a few steps away, seemed to sense your pain and stepped closer. “he saved me,” she said softly, her voice full of quiet conviction. “he’s a hero. he’ll be okay.” your heart swelled with gratitude for the little girl’s words, but it did little to ease the crushing weight of guilt and grief. he had put his life on the line just to save the girl that reminded you so much of your sister. the faint sound of the alarms in the background was a stark reminder of the chaos outside, but there, in the small, dimly lit corner of the basement, it was just you and him.

the basement was still, save for the occasional shuffling of feet and the distant murmurs of anxious voices. the weight of the entire ordeal hung heavy in the air as you sat by hoseok’s side, your hands stained with blood and your body numb from exhaustion. the darkness of the night seemed endless, a constant reminder of the fragile line between hope and despair.

you hadn't closed your eyes for what felt like an eternity, your gaze fixed on his still form. every labored breath he took was a reminder of the dire situation, and you clung to the hope that he would pull through. the flickering light from the emergency lamps cast long, wavering shadows across his face, highlighting the bruises and cuts that marred his once-charming features.

finally, after what seemed like an infinite stretch of time, you saw a slight movement. his eyes fluttered open, and your heart leaped into your throat. “hoseok!” you cried out, your voice trembling with a mix of relief and disbelief.

his eyes, though heavy with exhaustion, met yours. his breathing was still labored, each inhale coming in shallow, ragged gasps. but there was a flicker of recognition, a glimmer of the warm, familiar presence you had feared you might never see again. tears streamed down your face as you reached for him, your fingers brushing against his cheek with a gentleness born of desperation and love.

he gave a weak smile, his lips curving up despite the pain etched into every line of his face. “well,” he rasped, his voice barely more than a whisper, “i always thought you’d be the one in this position, not me.” a shaky laugh escaped you as you held him closer, your tears mingling with the blood on his clothes. “i’m so glad you’re awake,” you whispered through your sobs. “i was so scared I’d lost you. i'm so sorry.”

his fingers, though trembling, reached up to brush your hair away from your face. the touch was tender, and it made your heart ache with the depth of your relief. “i’m the one who should be sorry,” he murmured, his voice hoarse but earnest. “i never wanted to put you through this.”

you shook your head, pressing your forehead against his. “no,” you said firmly, your voice breaking with emotion. “you did your best. you saved jiwon. you saved her, and you saved me.”

as you held him, his lips brushed gently against your hair, a tender gesture that conveyed more than words ever could. you could feel his heartbeat, faint but steady, and it was a rhythm that filled you with an overwhelming sense of gratitude. his gaze wandered to where jiwon stood a few feet away. her face was slick with tears, but she was smiling, her small frame trembling with the weight of the relief and gratitude she felt. the sight of her, so reminiscent of your own lost sister, brought a fresh wave of tears to your eyes.

her presence was a poignant reminder of everything you had lost and everything you had fought so hard to protect. she was a symbol of innocence and hope, a small, fragile life that had been preserved through the sacrifices made by hoseok and yourself. the resemblance to your sister was uncanny, and it was as though the universe had given you a bittersweet gift—a reflection of the child you had mourned, now standing before you as a living testament to the strength and resilience of the human spirit.

you looked at her, then back at hoseok, who was watching her with a faint smile on his lips. his eyes were filled with a mix of pain and satisfaction, a silent acknowledgment of the bond that had formed through their shared ordeal. “she reminds me so much of her,” you said softly, more to yourself than to him.

he nodded, his gaze still fixed on jiwon. “i know,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “she’s a brave little girl.”

the basement, once filled with dread and uncertainty, now seemed to resonate with a quiet, profound sense of relief. despite the chaos and the trauma that had unfolded, the small victories and the lives saved were a testament to the strength and courage that had carried you through.

you continued to hold hoseok close, your heart swelling with a mix of emotions. the night had been long and harrowing, but as you sat there, enveloped in the warmth of his presence and the sight of jiwon’s tearful smile, you felt a flicker of hope and redemption.

✧.*

a/n: this was so fun to write omg

[baka-alpaca]

head neurosurgeon and top cardiac surgeon

poor Jem had been the prodigy, then even younger Al shows up...

[starry-bi-sky]

don't you want to be a cult leader? - danyal al ghul au

this is mostly a joke post but i thought it was funny and had to share so--

his first mistake was, obviously, inheriting his father's inability to see an injustice and stand still. -- actually, danyal's first mistake was his lair being so big. a mountainous island with a large temple in the center resembling his old home in Nanda Parbat? With sprawling foliage and rivers and streams and waterfalls galore? What was he going to do with all that space? Let it go to waste? He had plants there! Native trees of the ghost zone growing from the soil! He couldn't let it all be left unchecked!

So naturally after helping a fellow teenage assassin ghost -- who he later learns is named Akihiko, -- from Walker of all people, he sent them over to hang low at his lair until it was safe enough for them to wander around the Zone. Walker couldn't get through Danyal's astrofield if his life depended on it, and trust him -- he's tried. Danny was clearing out debris from his stupid transport vans for weeks.

Honestly it wasn't so bad, he and Aki really quickly became fast friends and Danny loves having a sparring partner close to his level again -- he hasn't had this much fun fighting since he left the League. Aki was very dedicated and levelheaded, the both of them clicked really well because of it.

Nonono, the real trouble began after Danyal met some long-passed League members and allowed them to come join his island as well. Apparently they had made a few enemies of the zone, and maybe Danyal still felt some loyalty to the League. He couldn't just let them be left to rot. Their zealotry could be overlooked so long as they kept it contained and helped him take care of his island.

And it.. snowballs from there? He meets a teen squire aptly calling himself Ambroise -- whether that was his living name or not is yet to be seen -- who died during feudal france, who is just about as dramatic and passionate as every french stereotype makes them out to be. He calls Danyal "my moon and great muse" -- which is both flattering and little uncomfortable, but Danyal's grown up in the League as the Grandson of the Demon Head, he is used to mild worship. he passes it off as nothing more, nothing less. -- and while his energy is overwhelming on the worst of days, he helps Danny draw out of his shell more in ways that Sam and Tucker still struggle with.

Him and Aki butt heads a lot, but the two seem to hold the other in at least some positive regard, so Danny doesn't worry too much about them fighting while he's gone. It only becomes a mild issue when Aki also begins calling Danny "my moon". It's a little sweet, so Danyal brushes it off.

Then he takes in a troupe of ghosts some time after he defeats Pariah Dark and they begin calling him "great one" just as the yetis do in the far frozen. This is where he meets the twins -- a pair of sibling ghosts who call themselves Trixie and Missy (short for Trick and Mislead) -- who aren't quite as passionate as Ambroise but more energetic than Aki. Eventually they also start calling Danyal "my moon" and attach themselves to his hip, even within the living. They like to hide in his shadow and cause trouble for the rest of the students. He makes sure they don't hurt anyone.

He's pretty sure Aki is jealous, same with Ambroise, but he can't be too certain other than the fact that they become much more lingering (re: clingy) whenever he visits the island.. Something he's trying to do much more often these days due to the increasing amount of people living there now. Since when did he become so popular?

Then there's Pēnelópeia from the Greater Athens, who ran away from home and joined his Island after he ran into her while she was being chased by Skulker -- and he's pretty sure the reason was because of her chimeric appearance. Her strange eyes and mismatched wings and lion's tail and talons. She assimilates into his friend group very easily, she gets along well with Ambroise and Trixie and Danny usually finds the three of them climbing the trees to pluck the most fruit from the top. They can fly and he knows it, but they prefer to climb.

Then finally there's silent poet Akkara who comes from ancient mesopotamia, who gets along most with Aki -- which is no surprise there considering their similar personality dispositions. he watches Aki and Danyal fight each other and leaves comments on this or that that he notices. He writes Danyal poems on clay tablets and leaves them by his room.

They're one big mismatched group of outcasts, and Danny's got the other ghosts on his island to tend to, because they're living on his island and he wants to be hospitable even if he struggles with that. But he spends the most of his time with them.

Sam and Tucker are making fun of him. Tucker jokingly tells him 'careful Danny, at this rate you're gonna start a cult'. Danny really wishes he had taken that joke more seriously.

He just. keeps. collecting people. Wayward souls lost in the zone, looking for shelter or refuge from something or other -- whether that be another hostile ghost, or a past afterlife, or just a purpose. Danyal finds them, he takes them in, offers them a place on his island until they are ready to leave. Many seldom do. He's not complaining -- he has the space, and it feels like it's only ever growing.

His close friends, his "inner circle" as he's heard the others call them, keep insistently calling him "my moon". He starts calling them his stars, because then it only feels fair. They're his stars, this is his constellation. It becomes a thing; little star halos begin forming behind their heads, picking them out from the rest. He loves them so much, it's hard to place. Sam and Tucker are also his stars, but they reside in the living realm, they're his tie to Life. Meanwhile, his friends here know what it's like to be dead, and sometimes its nice to relate.

Those living on his island keep calling him "Great One" and he's beginning to notice zealotry in their care for his island. He really, deeply appreciates it. His close friends gain nicknames -- as his stars, it's only natural for him to pick them out from the cluster in the skies. Akihiko, his Sirius and bright star. Trix and Missy, Castor and Pollux, the twins and troublemakers. Ambroise, his zealous Antares and close friend. Penelopeia, chimeric and loyal Vega. And Akkara, his Arcturus and strength.

It's ridiculous how long it takes for him to notice; he is, of course, a deadly trained assassin. He is meant to be observant -- and normally he is! But somehow this becomes a blind spot. One that becomes too big to be dealt with by the time he realizes it.

He should've noticed when Aki, his Sirius, stood beside him one day while Danyal looked over his island and saw the sprawling spirits carrying on about their afterlife and bowing to him as they saw him, and said: "I looked down into the depths when I met you; I couldn't measure it." They aren't one for flowing prose, it took him so off guard he was silent for over a minute before he finally spoke.

Danyal should've recognized devotion for what it is, and yet he didn't. He should've recognized it when Antares began spouting praises about him, crowing about his radiance and resplendence to the heavens. He just brushed it off as Ambroise being Ambroise. He should've recognized it when Trix and Missy nearly broke Dash's leg after he knocked Danyal's books out of his hands, he excused it as them being protective. Of them coming from times where such violence may have been customary -- after all, that's what he used to be like. What he was still like, sometimes, when his emotions nearly got the better of him.

He should've noticed it when the people living on his island followed his word like gospel, looked at him like he hung the stars in the sky. When his friends gifted him a shawl with the moon phases delicately embroidered into it, with silver, shimmering thread and moving stars lovingly stitched into it. Their constellations seen clear as day in the dark fabric. When he found small shrines dedicated to him -- but they lacked any image of him beyond stones carved to look like moons, so he ignored it. When the religious imagery began popping up.

He really, really should've noticed it when a bunch of cultists accidentally summoned Antares, and Antares had turned to him when he arrived and called them heretics. But he was so centered on the fact that they had kidnapped one of his stars, that he hadn't paid much attention to what Ambroise had said.

Sages say that faith is blind, they should also say faith in you is even blinder.

It really only hits him one afternoon while he's sitting in Sam's room studying with Tucker, Missy and Trixie lounging at his feet, Aki sat on his right, Penelopeia braiding his hair, Ambroise draped against him, and Akkara lurking over him. Its one of the rare few times they're all in one room together.

It hits him like a bolt of lightning. He looks up from his textbook. "Oh Ancients," he says in no amounting shock. Everyone looks up to him.

"I've become my grandfather."

[snoelledarts]

“When will you learn to stop and take care of yourself for once?”

[mingigoo]

look after you || k.hj (m.)

🩺 pairing ⇢ nurse! (fem) reader x struggling musician! Hongjoong

🩺 synopsis ⇢ after a long night at work with little to no sleep, you nearly doze off on your way home, hitting a tattooed, spikey-haired guy in the middle of the road. Panicking, you run out to help him and go with him to the hospital, only to lie and say he was your husband so you could go back with him. Well, when he woke up, he didn't exactly take it the way you thought he would...

🩺 genre/au ⇢ enemies to lovers (kind of), some angst, smut, fluff, hospital au

🩺 warnings/tags ⇢ 18+ MINORS DNI, injury, car accident, hospital scenes, unprotected sex, undefined relationship, mention of possible suicide attempt, Hongjoong is a scruffy underground musician, trauma with touch, tattoo!joong, grumpy sunshine, cum shot, biting, teasing

🩺 word count ⇢ 10.3k

🩺 taglist ⇢ @atinywhore @jjhmk @yukine-smx @roe-sinning @meowmeowminnie @yeritheloml @y00nzin0 @yesv01 @halesandy @shegotboreddsoo @kangyeosangelic @gayliljoong @sanshineeeeee @kodzukein @baguette-atiny @seokwoosmole @nyeatinyjunkie @juliettechokilo @pockyddalgi @justaqueerbufoin @hwaightme @likexaxdaydream @ssaboala @gtr-skyline-lover @miriamxsworld @daegale @knucklesdeepmingi @naiify @yeoyeoland @arya9111 @mdibby @8tinytings @angelicyeo @wooyoungjpg @lonewolfjinji @asjkdk @charreddonuts @mangishii @yeoyeoland @pink-hwaberry @wooyoluvrr @maru-matt @pearltinyy @loveuwoo @m3chigo @northerngalxy @silverpixiedust23 @interweab @skz1-4-3 (if I missed you please lmk!! bold = can’t tag)

masterlist

A/N ⇢ this story is purely fictional! I am not nurse, and do not have unlimited knowledge on this topic. However, I am a healthcare worker, so I know a little, but not a lot. I am sorry for any information this is incorrect. This is meant for entertainment purposes only. This is not meant to take place in reality.

They never prepare you enough for the things you might see within the hospital walls. 

Nothing is ever enough within those few years of education, the desperate attempt to create life savers. No one tells you how much it hurts to see a child suffer until death, a mother, a daughter.

You just wanted to be something. Do something. Be like the girl you dreamed of being as a child—a child who put bandaids on her mother, all over, decorating her like a painting. Sometimes, your mother would act like she was hurt, just for you to play make-belief, “stitching” up her “wounds.”

And here you were, in the hospital locker room, tears falling silently down your cheeks as you unclipped your hair, letting it fall just like the tears. You sniffed, hiding your face in the locker, although no one was around to see. It was embarrassing enough to yourself—you couldn't believe you were crying. You just…couldn't stop.

The day was rough—just too much. Too much death, too much sadness. This wasn't what you dreamed of. You never thought about how hard it would be to put a smile on your face to a patient, right after witnessing someone leave the world. To act, really. You should've taken up that career instead. You were pretty damn good at doing it—well, until you landed behind the curtain.

You haven't slept in ages. It's been constant insomnia on top of twelve-hour shifts, sometimes even longer, and once you are able to lay down, the only thing you hear is the sound of a patient crashing, the cries of family members. It had you questioning your profession. Your devotion. Your childhood.

As you made your drive home, for some reason, the lines on the road soothed you. Your eyes began to beg for sleep, rolling back ever so slightly as you continued. The gentle patter of rain graced the windshield, the red hue of the stoplight in front of you nearing. 

You stopped at the light—pausing to look at the city around you. The city was bright, even at the dark hour of midnight. People were walking, carrying on,  bar lights bright, apartments lit up in an array of colors. You took in a breath and closed your eyes.

And you closed them a little too long when a car horn sounded behind you.

You jumped, feeling apologetic for holding up the line, and continued forward. People passed you with impatience, but you didn't care. You kept going, crawling, really, till you felt sleep creep up once again, shutting your eyes. You drifted off, only for a short moment, and suddenly you awoke with haste—but not quick enough. In your headlights stood a man, walking across the street, and you didn't have enough time to move. You slowed as best you could, tires screeching, praying to anything, anyone, that this was your imagination.

As your car came to a screeching halt, you hit the man with a thump, causing him to crumble to the ground. You gasped, now wide awake, a scream caught in your throat.

You swallowed hard, hands shaking as you pulled over as best as you could and put your vehicle in park, looking around for any sign of someone. 

No one, absolutely no one, but you and this man you just hit. Just a few blocks back, the city was bustling, bars were hopping, but now, it was like a wasteland. You stepped out of your car, gasping for air, and sprinted through the rain to get to the man.

He was lying still, his head bleeding, his back on the asphalt. His black clothing hid the damage he received from the hit, hiding his body, his black hair covering his face. The only thing you saw was the black ink of a tattoo on his hand as it grasped the road.

“Oh my god,” you breathed, kneeling down to him. You assessed him as best as you could, fighting an anxiety attack. “I am so sorry, oh my god.”

He groaned in response, his arm visibly broken. You hurriedly dialed the emergency line, panting, nearly in tears. You didn't even think about the consequences of this action—you were only worried about the man, the stranger, in front of you. 

After nearly crying once more on the phone, the paramedics explained that they would arrive quickly. You hung up and looked over the stranger once more. “Are you alive?” you asked like a dumb ass, nearly face-palming. You were a nurse, goddammit. Act like one. 

You leaned over him, as gently as possible, putting a finger under his nose, and you felt a soft breath hit it. You checked for an airway obstruction, but nothing. He was breathing fine. In pain, but breathing.

The man tried to move, to roll over sharply, but you quickly bellowed, “Wait, please, you could have a spinal injury,” you pleaded, and surprisingly he stopped. “Don't move.” You caught a glimpse of his face. A large cut near his eyebrow painted his skin crimson, but his eyes were beautiful. His lip was cut, too, and you felt immense pain just looking at him. God, what if he was homeless? He looked it. What if he didn't have insurance? Oh god—

You saw how much blood was coming from his head as he looked up at you. His eyes were hazy, like he wasn't really seeing. You hurriedly looked around for anything to stop his bleeding, and when you found nothing, you took your coat off, then your scrub top, and you quickly put your coat back on. You held your shirt to his head as gently as possible, applying pressure, praying that the paramedics would come soon—

Your anxious thoughts were interrupted by sirens. You let out a sigh of relief.

When the ambulance pulled up, two men came to you with a stretcher. You were barely alert enough to hear them say anything. You mumbled a few things, your hands shaking as they set down the gurney. You mumbled to have them put on a neck brace, chest tightening at how the man cried in pain. You let out an ugly cry with him, but no tears fell. They gently rested him on the stretcher, his head steady, but his arm—

“Are you crazy!” you hissed, standing up quickly. “His arm….he needs his arm stabilized!”

“I’m sorry, mam,” the one man condescendingly said, giving you a dull look. “We know how to do our job. We don't need your input.”

You huffed. Mam? Mam? That was insulting. “I’m a nurse, I also know what I’m talking about.”

They ignored you like everyone seemed to ignore you. They began to move away, but a small object caught their eye that lay right where the man was. You picked it up, finding it to be an empty wallet—you’d give it back later.

They rolled him towards the ambulance, and you followed, forgetting about your car, and everything in it, leaving the scene behind. The paramedics didn't seem to care that you went with them, so you sat in the vehicle, watching them treat the guy you hit. You wanted to throw up as they treated him, as you sat still, like a worthless piece of paper. A crumbled-up piece of paper. Yeah. Crumbled. 

When you arrived at the hospital—a hospital that wasn't yours, you walked beside the homeless man, nearly reaching for his hand. However, your race with him was put to a stop as the emergency room staff stopped you as he headed into the wing.

“I’m sorry, only family members are allowed inside,” the woman softly muttered, her eyes genuine. 

She reminded you of yourself.

What….what if this man was really homeless? What if he had no help, no insurance, no family? You had to do something. You’d feel horrible if you didn't do anything.

“I’m—I’m his wife!” you blurted out, louder than you intended. 

The young lady gave you a heartfelt look and nodded towards the door. “Go ahead. There’s a waiting room inside. What’s your name? I’ll let them know you’re the guardian.”

You told her your name, sparing no second longer than needed, and you ran into the emergency room, sitting down in a hurry.

It was now a waiting game.

—

For what seemed like forever, a doctor came out into the waiting room, looking right at you. 

“Miss y/n?” He asked.

“Yes?”

He cleared his throat. “….You are Kim Hongjoong’s guardian?”

You paused, almost forgetting your whole spiel at the entrance. You remembered the name from his ID in his wallet, and nodded sharply, standing up quickly. “Is he all right?”

“He sustained many injuries, but nothing too major. His arm is broken in three places, and that will limit his mobility quite a lot. We set his arm, but he might possibly need surgery.”

You nodded, relief washing over you. Good, minor injuries. Phew. 

The doctor pondered for a long while as he stared at you. “The paramedics stated that you were the one to hit him with the car.”

You sighed. “Yeah, he came out of nowhere—”

“Why was he walking alone so late at night?”

You looked around the waiting room, seeing only one other soul in the corner seat, sleeping. You wondered about what to say, as your little white lie was becoming a web. 

“I uh….he works late?”

“He was intoxicated at the time of the accident—”

“He works at a bar?” you tried not to sound like you were questioning that statement.

The doctor deadpanned and then sighed. “Listen, I’m sure there's stuff that’s none of my business. So I’m going to choose to ignore this,” he nodded toward the emergency wing. “But you’re welcome to go see him. He’s awake now.”

You wondered for a second whether you should go back there. If he was going to rip your head off for lying, for hitting him with your damn car.

You nodded, telling yourself to grow some damn balls. “Okay, I’ll see him.”

The doctor led you to a room at the very end of the hall, the lights dim. There, in front of you, was the man you hit. He was all bandaged up, a large one spanning around his forehead, covering some of the spikey black hair. His arm was wrapped in a cast and held up for circulation, and his eyes were wide open. Right on you.

“Your wife is here,” the doctor spoke nonchalantly as he entered with you. However, you were stationary at the door. 

“Wife?” he scoffed, coughing a bit. He tried to sit up, but you put on your act, walking up to his bedside. 

“Don't move,” you spoke sweetly, eyes pleading. The attractive man just furrowed a brow, his lips curling down in a grimace.

“We’re gonna keep you here for observation tonight, and see how you are doing in the morning to keep an eye on that arm of yours.” The doctor quickly did what he needed to do and left, leaving you alone with….your husband?

The pretty homeless guy spared no second in the questioning. “Who the fuck are you?”

Your eyes widened, looking down at him. He gazed up at you, his eyelashes fluttering as he blinked. A tattoo peaked out of his hospital gown, where it met the skin of his neck. 

“Listen,” you sat down roughly on the seat next to the bed. He watched you emotionlessly. “I’m sorry—I didn't see you when you walked across the road. I take full responsibility,” you breathed, getting nervous under his gaze. 

You were expecting him to scream at you. Well, at least to freak out in some way. It was more alarming that he sat still, completely still, his mouth set in a line.

You blinked.

“I don't care, it’s fine,” he sighed. He showed no emotion, nothing. Not even a twinkle of anger. It was the look in his eye that told you that maybe, just maybe, he ran in front of your car on purpose.

Your eyes widened at the man in front of you—at hongjoong in front of you. He looked distraught tired, brown eyes never leaving your face as you gazed at him. He raised his eyebrows slightly, tilting his head.

“You can leave now,” he huffed, eyes dropping to your open mouth before darting up back to your eyes. “I’m not sure why you're even here in the first place.”

It was your turn to scoff. You crossed your legs in irritation at his lack of care. “Well, maybe because I hit you with my damn car? Maybe I’m worried, maybe I feel horrible, maybe I wanted to see if you were going to be okay.”

Hongjoong just blankly stared. He didn't show any signs of pain, of anger, of anything, really. 

“You don't have to worry,” he spoke eventually, turning away from your gaze to look forward. You watched the tattoo dance against his neck as he moved. “I’m fine. This is all fine.”

You didn't know what to say, how to feel. Your head was spinning, all the tiredness washed away. It pained you to see him so empty, so barren, even though he was a stranger. “I feel like I need to do something for you.”

He bit the bottom of his busted lip, as if forgetting. He made a face, the only expression he’s shone. “No need.”

“But I need to,” you leaned forward, closer to him. He turned to you, eyes void. “I’ll pay for your hospital bill, maybe treat you for a dinner, I don't know—”

“Don't,” he hissed. His eyes grew dark, the fire in them rising. You nearly shrunk back in response to his sudden change of attitude. “Listen, just forget about this, about me, all of it. I don't need your money, or your time, or—” he paused, his anger faltering as he looked at you. “Just…just carry on with your life. I’ll only affect it if I stay in it.”

You frowned, wondering what he meant by that. It didn't matter, though. Your guilt was all-consuming—and the fact that he most likely ended up in front of the car on purpose really was overbearing.

After a second of just…staring at one another, you sighed. “One meal.”

He didn't make a face. Didn't change his plain, empty expression. You looked at his starless eyes, his pale skin. You had the need to brighten him up, to heal him. That was your job, after all.

He opened his mouth to speak, but a nurse came in before he could say a word. You immediately straightened, putting on a smile, hoping he would keep up the act even though he had no reason to. You didn't want to be kicked out—not right now. 

“How are we feeling, Hongjoong?” the young nurse asked, a smile on her bright face. 

“Fine, I guess.” His response was toneless. The nurse still bubbled around, checking his vitals. You watched as he stiffened as the woman touched him. 

She looked at you, arching a brow. “Oh? Are you the wife?” she let out a hum of appreciation, then turned her gaze to Hongjoong. “You’re lucky with this one. They said she freaked out when they didn't stabilize your arm and when they wouldn't let her inside the emergency wing! She must really love you to nearly fight someone to get back here.”

Hongjoong, for the little time you knew him, showed more emotion on his face than ever after hearing that. After hearing that someone—you, a stranger nonetheless—was distraught at his expense. His lips flattened in a line, his gaze faltering.

You grabbed his good hand, although bruises were painted across his knuckles. Old, yellowing bruises. You furrowed your brows, subconsciously rubbing a thumb softly over the colored skin. Hongjoong stiffened, eyes widening, at either your caring touch or the pain it could have been causing. Or both.

You felt your stomach tighten as you met eyes with him. The air was stuffy, his eyes were….practically begging for a reason for your attention, as if he’d never had it before.

“I’m lucky to have him,” you sighed, acting but feeling an intense pull to him. Just touching him, although you didn't even know him, felt like a second nature. 

Maybe it was the regret, the disparity, of hitting him, of being the reason his life was almost nonexistent. Maybe this feeling was because of the responsibility you felt for doing this to him. It didn't matter if it was true; this tension you were feeling with the stranger was more powerful than what you felt with your ex, the one before that, and the one before.

His face was devout of color besides the bruises that scattered his skin. He looked drained, tired, alone. The nurse just smiled at you two, noticing your bloody scrubs and messy exterior. “You’re a nurse, too?”

You just nodded, lost in the feeling that strummed through your body.

Hongjoong’s hand twitched under your hold, his eyes still wide. Still on you.

“Well, Hongjoong,” the friendly nurse smiled. “Don't let her go, she’s a keeper.”

He tore his gaze from you to look at your hand on his. He swallowed hard, blinking. “Ah, yeah.”

Soon after the nurse left, your hand still rested on his. He sat silently, staring forward at the whiteboard with his name on it.

“I….” you struggled with your words, realizing you were still caressing his hand. “I’m sorry,” you said as you pulled your hand away. His head shot towards you.

After a few moments of silence, he said, “It’s okay.” His tone was soft, defeated. 

You wiped your hands on your thighs, sweating buckets. “I, uh, I should go.”

He watched you stand up, but your back was turned, unable to see the wishful glance he offered you. 

You stopped in the door frame, turning around to meet his eyes once more. 

“It was nice to meet you, Hongjoong,” you smiled, watching the glimmer in his eye trying to sparkle. “I wish you well.”

Before you were able to leave the room, he called for you.

“Wait,” he breathed, voice raspy.

You froze.

He took a breath in, exhaling his words. “What’s your name?” 

You turned around. “Y/n,” you spoke softly, your chest aching at the little half-smile peeking through his bruised lips.

“y/n,” he repeated, blinking slowly. He didn't say anything else. You didn't either. You smiled at him once more before turning on your heel and walking out of the room, despite the tear in your heart telling you to stay.

And on your way out, you paid his hospital bill in full, not a single regret in your mind about it.

—

After a few days, you continued your days like normal.

Well, as normal as they could be. Your mind wandered to the spikey haired guy at every sparing second, thinking of how his eyes pleaded something unreadable, how his hand twitched underneath yours.

You were at the hospital, reaching the end of your workday in the emergency room. After running in with a few scruffy-looking guys, they reminded you of a certain someone, and you just wanted to tear at your hair. You were certain your odd feelings were due to the fact that you hit him with your car, and nothing else. This will pass. 

When the quietness of the night was about to still, a man ran into the emergency room door.

“My friend is hurt,” The man huffed in desperation. You turned to the commotion, seeing a thin, black-haired man holding up another—his friend. But that friend and his familiar spikey hair jolted something inside of you.

You jumped out of your seat behind the nurses’ station and ran to the men, meeting eyes with the taller one. He was just as beautiful as hongjoong was, but his eyes were frantic.

“Sir, what happened?” you questioned, reaching out to the man who was just who you thought. Hongjoong’s head rolled back, his eyes squinted in pain, his teeth barred. You carefully steadied him. “What’s hurting you?”

At your voice, Hongjoong opened his eyes wide, looking straight at you. “Y/n?” he grunted out, his breaths strained. He shut his eyes again, and you almost couldn't take the look he had on his face.

“His arm,” the other guy said to you as you called for help,  struggling to hold Hongjoong up. “He got into a fight at the bar, some guy decided to mess with his broken arm and, well…..”

You felt a sense of rage fill your body. You wanted to ask Hongjoong why the hell he was at the bar only days after getting hit by a damn car, let alone getting into a fight.

A few other nurses gathered around, all helping to walk him over to a bed. The wing was empty at this time of night—only a few people around. Once again, Hongjoong looked extremely uncomfortable as the nurses touched him.

You held him gently as you set him down on the bed, feeling his fingers curl around your arm.

He held on to you with his good arm—the hand you held only days before. The other nurses fluttered around, setting things up, but Hongjoong just stared up at you.

“Hi,” is all he said, his fingertips etching into your skin.

Your chest tightened, forcing yourself to smile. “We must be fated or something,” you joked, hoping to brighten him up. “That or you just frequent hospitals often.”

He blinked up at you, his eyebrows knitted in pain. “Maybe I just wanted to see you again.” He coughed as he joked.

Your heart skipped a beat, the other nurses and the man that came with him side-eyeing you.

“If you wanted to see me again, there are better ways than this,” you huffed, looking around. “We have to get an X-ray, alright? We’ll give you something to ease your pain meanwhile.”

The air between you two was undeniable. He nodded, emotion sparkling in his eyes, unlike the days before. You wondered if you were the reason for it.

It was probably just the pain.

The other nurses wheeled him to the radiology room, leaving you alone with the man who brought him there.

“You’re the girl that hit him, aren't you?” His voice was soft, gentle. It held no anger.

You turned to him, seeing the caring exterior he showed. “I….yes.”

He tilted his head at you, blinking, as if figuring you out in a single glance. “He’s been looking all over for you. You…paid his bill. He doesn't like handouts.”

Your eyes widened. “Oh? I didn't think he ever wanted to see me again. You know, I hit him with my car—that isn't something to take lightly—”

“You paid his bill,” the man repeated, crossing his arms. “He feels indebted to you. Please just make sure he knows not to feel that way.” The man sighed, looking into your eyes. “Despite how he looks, he ruminates over things. He’s sensitive. He’s a mess right now.”

You sighed, too. “I…I paid his bill because I did this to him—”

“No,” he interrupted, eyes serious. “You didn't.”

You knitted your brows. “....What do you mean?”

The man gave you a deadpan stare, as if not wanting to spell it out. He let out a breath he seemed to be holding. “He….he jumped in front of your car on purpose, y/n,” he bit his bottom lip. “So no, you really didn't do it to him. He’s…he’s just been a mess lately—and now that you acted sweet, played a wife, held his hand or whatever, he’s even more of a mess.”

Before you could ask what he meant by that, Hongjoong was back, alert and upright, but the pain still rested on his face. His gaze met yours, and you felt your stomach swirl in a mess of emotions.

You couldn't look him in the eye as you took care of him.

—

Hongjoong was sleeping as your shift was about to end. Before you clocked out, you couldn't help but go to him, check his injury out, check his vitals. His friend—Seonghwa, you learned his name—left about an hour ago.

As if noticing your presence, his eyes slowly peeked open, slightly drugged and delirious from the pain medications.

“I didn't expect to see you here,” he mumbled out, blinking lazily.

“I didn't expect you, either,” you spoke, keeping your emotions in check.

Silence enveloped you as you checked his pulse ox. 

“Why’d you do that?”

He turned his head to look at you. “Do what?”

You unclipped the pulse oximeter from his finger. “Why’d you get into that fight? You were really injured.” You wanted to ask the deeper question, the question as to why he stepped in front of your car, but you didn't want to overstep.

He shrugged, wincing. He didn't have an answer. He didn't owe you one, really. 

“Just,” you breathed, moving over to the computer to open his chart. “Just don't do anything like this while you’re healing. You need surgery. You need rest.”

He bit his lip, probably stopping himself from saying something he shouldn't. 

“Also,” you sighed, looking over at him. “Your friend told me you were looking for me?”

“Yeah, well,” he scoffed. “I really didn't mean to meet you here.”

You let out a chuckle. “Well, here we are.”

He nearly smiled at you, lips curling beautifully. He had a bit of dried blood on his lip, and knowing that you were supposed to be leaving, you still reached for a washcloth. You didn't need to do this—in fact, you were acting against every thought in your head as you leaned forward and brushed the cloth against his lip, watching them part.

His breath hitched as you neared, as you touched him, and once again, his hand twitched, begging to touch you.

Your hand lingered on his cheek for a moment too long, meeting his eyes. He stared at you, expression unreadable, lips parted.

“Thanks,” he muttered.

You took a second to study his face before you moved away from him. His eyes followed you as you put space between you and him, dark and beautiful. 

You logged out of the portal on the computer. “We’ll move you to your own room before we prep you for surgery,” you said gently, heart aching as you met his gaze once more. “The doctor will tell you more.”

“Will you….be there for the surgery?” he showed no specific feelings as he asked the question.

“I am only part of the emergency department right now,” you shrugged. “I don't think so.”

He pondered for a second before nodding, settling himself back into the comfort of his hospital bed. “Okay,” he spoke softly.

You offered him a solemn look, causing him to stiffen.

“What?” he asked.

“What?” you repeated, confused.

He blinked. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?” you frowned.

“Like you feel sorry for me.” He looked pained, a deeper type of pain.

You thought about a response to that—you didn't necessarily feel sorry for him, you didn't pity him either. In fact, you just felt an immense feeling of wanting to see him happy, to see him without pain.

Which confused you incredibly, given that he was just a stranger.

“I don't feel sorry for you,” you clarified. “I just don't want you to be in pain.”

“You don't even know me,” he huffed, his expression contorting, and you figured that he didn't even know how he was feeling—what he was feeling. “Why would you even care if I’m hurting?”

You smiled at him. “Because you don't deserve the pain.”

He just stared at you, hazily, emotionally. There was a light in his eyes—a light that wasn't there the other day. “You don't know me well enough to know that.”

The air grew cold; you had nothing left to say. You wished he realized that he didn't have to suffer like this.

“Goodnight, Hongjoong,” you hummed, walking away, feeling his stare burn into your back.

—

The next day, you found yourself drawn to the bed Hongjoong was in yesterday. It was empty, with him now in a room of his own in another part of the hospital.

You typed away at your computer as your colleague, Yeosang, came up to you. 

“Hey,” he leaned over the counter of the nurses’ station. “There's a guy asking for you.”

Yeosang, although very young, was a surgical resident in orthopedics. He was super smart, super sexy, super everything. You went to school together, spending lots of time in the library and everywhere else together. 

“Who?” you mumbled without looking up.

“He’s a patient I’m prepping for an open reduction surgery, but he’s having a hard time letting anyone touch him. Says he only needs you or something.”

You looked up, hands freezing on your keyboard. Hongjoong. “He won't let anyone touch him?”

Yeosang sighed, propping his head up on his palm as he leaned on the counter. “We had to give him more pain medication, and it made him a bit….difficult. I suspect he has some sort of trauma.”

You frowned. “And why is he asking for me?”

Yeosang gave you a knowing look. “I don't know. He kept saying your name, saying he needed you.”

You tried to avoid the rush of blood to your cheeks. “I don't even know him.”

“Yeah, about that….” Yeosang looked a bit confused, a smile peeking through his lips. “He keeps calling you his wife.”

Oh, dear god. “How drugged is he?” you huffed, looking defeated. 

Yeosang laughed. “I kept telling him that you weren't his wife, and he got super mad at me. He said only his wife can touch him. I really need him to stop this so I can get him into pre-op,” The surgeon sighed, giving you a pleading glance. “I’ll ask the attending if you can scrub in—”

“I’m an ER nurse,” you raised a brow. “I have other duties, Yeosang.”

“Y/n, please,” Yeosang pleaded, “ignore the rules or whatever. Can you just come and help me so we can get him into surgery?”

Your mind wandered to the fact that Hongjoong was having a hard time. Sure, he was delirious off of his meds and pain, but knowing that he was struggling with touch, a part of you crumbled.

So you followed Yeosang—after getting approved by the charge nurse, and went up to the third floor.

As you neared the room, you let Yeosang enter first. 

“Mr. Kim, I have Nurse y/n here for you.”

There Hongjoong was, his eyes frantic, his breathing rushed. He was anxious, a mess. The nurses tried to ease him, and relax him, but he wasn't having it. That is, until he saw you in the doorway.

“y/n,” he breathed, as if he knew you forever. Everyone in the room let out a sigh of relief.

“Hi, Hongjoong,” you spoke softly, walking slowly near him. You sat in the chair next to his bed, scooting closer as the room emptied, Yeosang being the only other presence. “I heard you were asking for me.”

He blinked, his eyes lined with worry, with anxiety. For someone who looks so tough, he looks like a completely different person.

He didn't speak; he just looked at you, his eyebrows furrowed, his expression all over the place. You took a glance at Yeosang, who was observing you before you reached for Hongjoong's hand just like before. 

The bruises were faded now, only old scars left on his skin. A tattoo trailed the skin of his arm. You went to rub his knuckles,  but Hongjoong gripped your hand tightly.

You met his frantic gaze. No words were spoken. He just pleaded with his touch, his eyes. You knew he was scared. 

“It's okay,” you hummed, fighting the urge to tuck his hair behind his ear. “It's a simple surgery. You will be just fine.”

He mumbled something, but you weren't able to catch it. Yeosang stood in the doorway with his arms crossed, the other nurses peering over his shoulder from the hall. Hongjoong’s gaze moved to the door, seeing everyone watching him.

And you realized that, more than being anxious, he was embarrassed, too.

You looked to Yeosang, giving him a desperate look, a silent cry for him to leave and to get those damn nosy bitches out, too. He complied, and they were alone once more.

“It’s alright,” you hummed, and this time, you did reach out to his face, gliding a gentle hand across his cheek. Without thinking, he leaned into your touch, craving it, longing for it, as if you were really his wife. “They’re gone now.”

His eyes were droopy, his lips downturned. He looked tough, someone with a rough exterior, but now, he was crumbling. He was alone. Alone to the point that he called for you, basically a stranger to him. 

The moment could have lasted forever. His eyes bled into yours, yours into his, your hand on his cheek drawing circles into his skin. He took in a breath, and nodded.

“Will you let them take care of you?” you asked him gently.

He hesitated. You also did, as you realized that he leaned into your touch rather than avoiding it. That he felt comfortable with you—the one who hurt him. In his eyes, though, he didn't see it that way.

Your hand stilled on his cheek, his worried eyes lighting up a little. You didn't even realize that his good hand—the hand that you were holding just a minute before, was now resting on top of your hand that was on his cheek. He gripped it, his medical haze confusing him, confusing you.

You froze, your eyes wide. You allowed his fingers to interlock yours, having him hold your hand to his face as he shut his eyes. He was vulnerable. Human. Although he looked tough, looked troubled, he was just a person under all that trouble. Just a normal guy with normal feelings, normal fears.

And you were indebted to each other. You for hitting him, him for his gratefulness of your care.

“I’ll be there with you,” you murmured, knowing that Yeosang was still outside the room, close enough to hear, close enough to see. “I’ll be in the room while they’re operating.” 

He nodded, his grip loosening slightly, but he still didn't release your hand.

“I’ll look after you,” you offered, and his eyes met yours once more. 

He slowly let go of your hand, allowing you to move back. You looked at Yeosang through the window, giving him a curt nod for him to come back in. 

Hongjoong let the other nurses touch him, but not without a grimace on his face. Yeosang’s words swirled around your mind; I suspect he has some sort of trauma.

Trauma. Trauma that didn't quite reach you—your touch. He allowed it, actually, he wanted it. You wondered what made him okay with yours. Why he needed you when you were the one to do this to him.

Eventually, Hongjoong entered the operating room, knocked out by anesthesia, but not without you holding his hand, making him childlike, making him….a normal human being.

—

After the surgery, Hongjoong sat in his bed even more dazed than before. Before the daze wore off, he kept calling you his wife, causing confusion to stir around the hospital. 

As you left Hongjoong’s room to go back to the ER, Yeosang followed. “What’s this about?”

“I don't know what you mean.” 

You walked faster.

“I mean, why does that guy keep calling you his wife?” Yeosang’s shoulder bumped into yours accidentally as you turned a corner. “And why are you the only one who can touch him? Why did you—”

You stopped suddenly. “Why did I what?”

Yeosang let out a breath. “Why did you….touch him like that? As far as I know, you….you aren't married.”

“I’m not married, you’re right,” you nodded, confused by why you touched him like that, too. Confused as to why he looked so relaxed with your touch rather than freaking out. “And…let’s just say we have met each other before. I did that to calm him down.”

You continued walking towards the elevator, Yeosang following still. “Okay, but you still didn't answer my question about why he keeps calling you his wife.” you pressed the down button and waited.

“Is that really any of your business?”

“Just a little—”

“Why?” you interrupted, turning towards him, arms crossed. “Why does it matter to you?”

You didn't mean to sound rude, you and Yeosang were good friends for a while. You've never dated, but you’ve flirted with each other occasionally. You never thought much of it other than being a little playful.

But the look on Yeosang’s face caused you to pause your racing thoughts. “Because I thought we…we had something going on?”

You blinked. “Do we?”

“I mean,” Yeo scoffed. “With the way you were looking at him, I don't think I have a chance.”

The elevator dinged, doors opening. You paused for a second before entering, Yeosang following.

It was quiet before the doors closed.

“I didn't think I looked at him any differently than anyone else,” you admitted honestly, causing Yeosang to look over at you. 

He gave you a smile, although it didn't quite reach his eyes. “You feel something for him, huh?”

You frowned, leaning back against the wall. “I barely know him. I only…” you sighed. “I only met him twice.”

“But yet, you are the only one he allows to touch him,” Yeosang breathed as the elevator dinged on the first floor. 

“That’s something to think about.”

—

Hongjoong was back to his normal self when you went to check on him in the evening; the anesthesia and meds had worn off. His arm was bandaged up and held in a sling, his eyes empty once more. 

You hesitated on entering, but his stare moved to you.

For a second, you saw regret, and embarrassment, cross his face before melting back into a void stare.

You entered, but he didn't look at you. He avoided your gaze, too. Very unlike his earlier, medical high self. 

You took his blood pressure, fingertips gently wrapping around his tattooed bicep as you put the cuff on. He didn't say anything, didn't even spare a passing glance. He just kept looking forward.

“119 over 79,” you mumbled out, letting loose of the cuff.

He nodded, coughing a bit. He didn't say anything, though.

“Dr. Kang told me that you’re cleared to be discharged,” you tried to start a conversation, but things just felt too awkward. You wrote down his vitals in his chart. “That’s good. Can I call anyone to pick you up? Maybe the guy that was here—”

“No,” he said quietly, looking down at his arm. “There is no one to call.”

“You need someone to help you. You just had surgery—”

“I have no one, y/n,” he hissed, finally looking at you. “Not like that’s any of your business, anyway.”

You didn't know what to say, so you just stared at him with confusion. He was putting his walls up.

“I just….don't want you to suffer alone,” you admitted.

“Why?” he let out a laugh, but it wasn't humorous. “I don't need your worry.”

“Okay,” you breathed, defeated. There was no point; he was just a stranger, just a man. Although, this feeling you had about him was overwhelming. And when you touched him, you wanted to hold him longer. Wanted him to feel better.

You left the room without a glance toward him and carried on the rest of your day as best you could.

—

Hongjoong was sitting on the bench outside the hospital entrance, head low, as if sleeping.

You knew you should keep walking. You shouldn't give him any attention, any time of day. But your chest ached as you got closer and closer, and as you reached him, you couldn't bear to walk past him.

“Why are you still here?” you asked him, keeping a good amount of distance away from him.

At your voice, he looked up quickly, as if waiting for you despite his nastiness earlier.

He took a second to respond. “I, uh, I’m just sitting here.”

You looked him over. His black hair was no longer styled spikey, it laid flat across his forehead softly. His tattoos were on full display in the black t-shirt he wore. 

“You don't have anywhere to go,” you meant to ask it like a question, but it came out more like a declaration. He furrowed his brows at your words but didn't deny it.

“I’m fine, I’ll figure it out,” he sniffed, the cold air dancing around him. He didn't even have a coat.

Without thinking, you spoke quickly. “Come with me.”

He tilted his head. “Why?”

“Because,” you huffed, taking a step closer to him. “I owe you.”

“For what?” he spat out, probably not intending to sound rude. 

You gave him an honest look, and his eyes softened. “Did you just forget that I hit you with my car? That I broke your arm?”

He just sat there, blinking slowly. “You don't owe me anything, y/n.”

You reached your hand out. His own hand twitched. “Come with me.”

After a long moment of just staring at your outstretched hand, he let his hand find yours, standing up at his full height. You got a good look at his face, his eyes, his lips. He was breathtakingly beautiful. So beautiful. 

You held his hand as you walked to your car, feeling a flutter of emotion in the pit of your stomach.

When you got to the car, you helped him into the passenger seat, despite his aggravated digs at you. You leaned over him, buckling his seatbelt, feeling his hot breath against your cheek.

You paused, frozen, inches away from his lips.

He swallowed hard, eyes glancing down at your lips. He didn't make a move. You didn't, either. 

You pulled away, forcing yourself to get out of his personal space to shut the door. You saw him tilt back his head and take a deep breath before you got to the driver's seat.

As you drove, you asked random questions like a goddamn idiot.

“So, uh,” you swallowed, looking over at him for a second. “What do you do for a living?”

What kind of damn question is that?

“I’m a musician,” he mumbled, looking out the window. “Kind of.”

“Ah,” you nodded, thinking of what to say next. Now you were thinking way too much into things. “What do you play?”

He looked down at his arm, sighing. “Well, I played the guitar, piano, some other things. I don't think I’ll be picking anything up for a while.”

“You will, eventually,” you tried to encourage him, but he just kept his gaze even out the window. You arrived at your apartment, pulled into the parking lot, and shut off the car. “We’re here.”

He nodded, watching you get out of the car. You opened his door, and with slight hesitation, you leaned over him again to unbuckle his seatbelt, but before you could, he stopped you with his good arm. 

You paused, inches from his face, meeting his eyes.

“Thanks,” he muttered quietly. “I’m sorry for how I acted earlier.”

“You don't have to be sorry,” you whispered, feeling an immense pull to him, to his lips.

You ignored the urge and unbuckled the belt, but you didn't back away. Not like you could, anyway, with Hongjoong’s grip on your arm tightening.

The belt slowly slipped off of him.

He chewed on his bottom lip, his eyes dancing with emotion. “I was just… embarrassed. And drugged, and uh, well,” he paused, thinking. “Mostly embarrassed. I can't believe I freaked out over a little surgery. That’s so lame—”

“No, it's not,” you hummed softly, delicately. “It's a normal fear.”

He smiled. Actually smiled. From the little time you knew him, you haven't seen a genuine smile on his face. Or any sort of light, really.

“Thanks, uh,” he sniffed. “Thanks again. For looking after me.” his eyes fell to your lips. “You don't even know me, and you still…” he trailed off.

You realized that you were inhaling the air he was exhaling, that you were eye to eye, almost nose to nose. His breaths were shaky, labored, and tired. 

“I would want someone to look after me in the same way,” You whispered. “That’s all.”

“That’s all?” he tilted his head upward, leaning against the headrest, warm, brown eyes on full display. 

“Mhm,” you swallowed. 

His eyes glimmered. He didn't have anything to say, and you didn't either. Realizing that you were shrinking the space ever so slowly, you took the opportunity to back away from the musician. He let go of your arm, but not without a little tug on it beforehand.

You cleared your throat as he got out of the car. You shut the door for him, and you walked together—slowly, till you reached your apartment door.

When you entered, hongjoong strayed back behind the door, not entering. You turned to face him, eyebrow raised. 

“Come in,” you beckoned, and with one more second of hesitation, he followed you in, shutting the door behind him.

He surveyed the place, his eyes finding the piano that sat in the corner of the room. His eyes danced as if surprised to see it there.

The air was thick. The room was quiet. You tossed off your shoes with ease, noticing his struggle with his own, so you bent down the help him. He didn't pull away, didn't speak. He just let you take care of it—of him.

“I don't mean to be a bother,” he mumbled as you untied his shoe. “But I’d really like to shower.”

You glanced up at him. “Oh,” you nodded, taking off his shoe before standing up. “Sure. it’s the first door down the hall.”

He didn't make any move. He stood, a confused, shy look resting on his face.

And then you realized.

He had no clothes to change into. Nothing. He also only had one working arm, and one covered in material that couldn't get wet.

“I can help you,” you trailed off, trying not to read too much into his stare. 

“If you comfortable with that.”

—

In the bathroom, Hongjoong stood anxiously as you waited for the water to warm up. It took a second, and most of the time, the hot water only lasted so long.

You figured a shower would be too difficult to help him with without seeing too much. You opted for a warm bath, filling the water up once it got hot enough. You made sure to add some suds to it, so he wasn't too uncomfortable.

When you turned around to face him,  his eyes were cloudy, his lips in a line.

“Do you….not like baths?” you mumbled, scratching your head. “I probably should've asked you before I—”

“It’s not that.” His eyes met yours, switching his weight onto his other leg. 

You didn't pry, knowing he was just probably embarrassed that he needed help for something as trivial as a bath. 

Walking toward him, he backed up into the door. You nearly smirked but maintained your cool as you grabbed the plastic bag off the sink counter. “I just have to wrap your cast in this. It'll just be a second. You might want to take your shirt off before I….”

He blinked, eyes wide. “Huh?”

“I don't think you normally bathe in clothes,” you murmured slyly, tilting your head. “Unless you like that.”

He didn't move. His body was as stiff as a board, his throat bobbing as he swallowed.

“Just take your shirt off, dammit, or I’ll do it for you.”

You saw his expression change the minute the words left your mouth.

His good hand found the hem of his t-shirt, hesitating to take it off. You realized that he probably did need your help with taking it off, but with the look in his eye, you weren't sure what would happen if you got any closer to him.

But you moved closer, anyway, setting the plastic bag back onto the counter. His back was nearly up against the wooden door, his breath hitching as your fingertips gently pulled at the fabric.

“Why are you….so okay with this?” he breathed before you could pull the shirt up.

You met his gaze, his eyes unreadable. Almost as if he didn't know what he was feeling, either. 

“I told you already,” you shrugged, smiling.

He blinked, his eyes red with emotion, begging to send a flood down his cheeks. “I don't deserve your help.”

“You do, though.” Ever so slowly, you began to pull his shirt, soft, carved abs appearing as you moved it up. “Because you know, you don't have to suffer alone.”

“Who said I was suffering?” he croaked out, his eyes, his tone, spilling his guts out on the floor for her to see. 

You didn't say anything. You just slowly tugged the black t-shirt over his casted arm, watching him wince slightly. Then, he stood, half-naked, emotionally charged in front of you. He was no longer a stranger. No longer someone that you classified as a patient, either.

His eyes spoke volumes, his good hand twitching at his side. You looked at it, and took it in your own.

“Come on,” you nodded behind you. “I’ll help.”

He looked like he was ready to cry. Ready to break down. He didn't, though, and you walked him over to the bath. You unbuttoned his jeans, but turned around as he stepped out of them and into the tub. 

The soap covered his lower body, all that was on display was his torso, his slim shoulders, the tattoos inked on his tanned skin.  He didn't break away from your gaze as you began to wash him.

“I feel….something I shouldn't be feeling,” he swallowed, his voice raspy, tender, defeated. 

“And what’s that?” you wondered before running your hands through his silky hair, coating the strands in your lavender shampoo.

He shut his eyes, sighing. “I don't know what it is, but what I do know is, for some reason, your touch is very calming when everyone else’s hurts me.”

You paused, hands still tangled in his locks, but he opened his eyes.

A confession of feelings—worth more than any other cliche words. He stared up at you, heart on his sleeve, confusion and fear and everything in between dancing around his eyes.

“For the first time,” he whispered, the only sounds in the room being your shaky breathing and the quiet trickle of water from the spigot. “I feel…comfortable being touched. I….need it.”

His lips parted, his hair dripping wet, your hands still frozen within the strands. You didn't know how to respond, didn't know exactly how you felt, either. But you also knew one thing, and it became ever so apparent as his hand slowly reached your cheek, wet fingertips leaving a trail of soap across your skin.

You blinked slowly.

Softly, gently, you moved forward, over the tub, and brushed your lips against his. His eyes remained open from shock, but his lips moved slowly along with yours.

You pulled away, but didn't go too far, resting your forehead against his. His breaths tickled your skin, sending a blush to your cheeks. 

Emotions are complex. You didn't know exactly why you kissed him. Why you needed to. Why you wanted to do it again. But what you did know was that you liked how his touch felt, liked the little smile that appeared as you kissed him, liked how he gently pulled you back into another kiss.

You took in his breath as you kissed once more, this time a bit more urgent. Your hands gripped his soapy hair, his hand rested softly on your cheek, his thumb on the corner of your lips, his fingers tickling the lobe of your ear. 

He kissed you like he knew you forever. Like he knew just how you liked it. You found your hand trailing down his tattooed neck, fingers dancing on the ink, his dewy skin, his tongue in your mouth.

You parted once more, so close, breaths tangling, fingers scrunching. His breath was hot against your face, his dark eyes pleading.

You’d so get on top of him in that damn tub. You wanted to, so bad. But you remembered that his arm was hurt, that you were the one that did it, and you nearly stood up to move away before he gripped you by the arm.

“Don't go,” he breathed hazily.

So you didn't. You washed him, this time, knowing that you were begging to end this bath and fuck him silly till the sunrise. Till the warm, glow of the burning star fluttered through your blinds. And with that damn look on his face, you knew he was thinking about it, too.

You helped him out of the bath, not turning around this time. He stood slowly, body on full display, even more tattoos, even more scars covering the skin you didn't get to see. 

You sheepishly handed him a towel. He took it, but didn't use it to cover himself up.

“You’re not dating that damn doctor, are you?” he spoke, his tone serious, deep. Sensuous. 

You breathed out, “No.” 

He grinned, cheshire-like. “Good.”

You could tell he wanted to rip your clothes off. He wanted to claw at your skin like some goddamn animal, his expression pained in all of the right ways. 

You needed air. God, this bathroom was stuffy.

Turning on your heel, you forced yourself to walk out of the damn room, because if you didn't, Hongjoong would become something far more stranger than, well, a stranger to you.

But he had other plans. More impulsive plans.

He followed you out of the bathroom and into your main living space. He gripped your hand, his fingertips gently pressing into your skin. When you turned to face him, he was dripping wet onto the lightwash wood floor, beads of water collecting on the ends of his hair. His eyes were wide, begging you for something, anything.

So you gave up on your act.

“Do you want to fuck me right now?” you wheezed, smiling as his eyes widened even more. “Is that what you want?”

You stepped closer to him at his silence, and arched your body against his bare torso, feeling the hardness of him press your thigh, his lips begging to meet yours once more.

You teased him, lifting your mouth to his, letting out a sigh. He shivered as your hands felt up his bare skin, and your hot breath tickled his face. 

He nearly growled, his good arm wrapping around your waist swiftly, tugging your body towards him completely, holding you here as his mouth crashed to yours. His broken arm begged to touch you, too, and without thinking, he moved it quickly. He hissed in pain, his arm definitely hurting him, but he didn't care as much as you did. You tried to part from his lips, to ask him if he was okay, but he bit hard down on your lip to keep you from speaking. 

You moaned while he stuck his tongue down your throat, his hand now tearing at your top, your waistband. You hurriedly tore off your clothes for him, giving him no second to stare at your body before tossing yourself onto him again. He grunted, moaning into your mouth, the vibrations tickling every part of you. He pushed you back, nearly tripping over the throw rug, the coffee table, until your back slammed into the keyboard of your piano.

The keys slammed as your ass hit them roughly, the musician making music without even intending to. His hips bucked into yours, your core right where he needed it, his dick pulsing, aching to be inside you. You lifted your hips, grinding them against his cock, gaining pleasure in his expression.

He nearly whined as you bit his ear lobe, his hips shifting into you, begging for you.

“Can I get inside you?” he moaned, eyes frantic. “I need you, fuck, I need it bad.”

In more ways than one, he needed you, but now, he needed your body. Needed your touch, your moans. You obliged, your body already wet enough for him to enter. You lined up, and without a second to waste, he slowly moved into you, causing you to toss your head back at the feeling. His eyes rolled back; a whine left his pretty pink lips, his chest heaved in pleasure.

His head dipped to suck your nipple, tongue gliding over the sensitive skin of your breast. You huffed, trying so hard to breathe. He let out moans that did something dangerous to your body, to your mind. You moaned along with him as his hips snapped.

“Oh, god,” he whimpered, his tone light, airy. Water dripped onto the soft skin of his chest from his hair. “You feel so good.”

You smiled, tearing your hands up his back as the piano cried along with you. The keys clicked, moaning from the weight above them. The music filled the room, tangled within your breaths, your sweat. You gripped the back of his head, lacing your fingers through his wet, dripping hair, feeling yourself get wetter and wetter by the minute.

Your walls caved into him, his cock pulsing inside you. He looked into your eyes for a long moment as he moved, his black hair stuck to his forehead, his mouth open in gratification. He kissed you, tongue dragging across your bottom lip, tugging on it. He liked to bite.

You felt euphoria reach you before you knew it, and you cried out, gripping his hair, pulling it as he fucked you. His face pained, his teeth barred, his eyes shut tight. Just his expression—his appearance—could've made you come on the spot.

You felt tingles in your fingers, and your toes, and saw stars in your vision. Black spots fluttered, your heart rate probably much higher than it should be. You didn't care if you died right here, right now. It didn't matter. Nope. This was bliss. So much better than that damn vibrator.

You felt like you were on fire—no, more like a falling, burning star crashing to earth. Your stomach ached at his pressure, your hips aching, your head pounding. You came onto him with haste as your vision blurred, tearing into his shoulder blades, leaving little marks on his skin. At your actions, you witnessed the look of utter satisfaction on the pretty boy’s face, his breaths quickening, shallowing. He let out a whine, just as musical as the keys underneath you.

Before he could come, he pulled out, cumming all over your breasts, your stomach. You sighed, closing your eyes, trying to catch your breath.

He stared at you, eyes low, lips swollen and red. So fuckable, so delicious. 

He looked at how he painted you, smirking a bit to himself. He was so full of life, full of emotion. “Let me go grab that towel,” he breathed, his voice crackling a bit. You watched in enjoyment when he walked away from you, watching his ass, his legs, the tattoos move with him.

He returned with the towel, wiping you gently as if he hadn't just made you nearly black out. You gazed at him, not sure what you were feeling, how you were feeling. You could do it all night with him, with this guy who was a stranger only a couple of days before. It wasn't too often that you acted on your desires, but there was no possible way you were supposed to avoid this, avoid him.

When he was done, when you were clean, he set the towel down on the floor, but his eyes didn't leave you. 

“What?” you hummed.

“Just,” he breathed, smiling. “That was really good.”

“I hope so,” you chuckled the feeling of the room lightening, almost in a playful way. “I hope this wasn't your goal all along—you really freaked me out when I hit you.”

He looked down as you jumped off the piano. “Uh, yeah. I bet I did.”

You moved to him, gently reaching to hold his cheeks for him to look at you. “I got you now, huh? No more running in front of cars, unless it's mine. I’ll be prepared next time.”

His eyes widened as if he was shocked by your words. That you knew he did it on purpose. He didn't deny it. He just leaned into your touch, eyes closing tight in comfort.

“Like I said,” you started, giving his lips a little peck. “I’ll look after you, if you’ll allow it.”

He took in a deep breath, opening his eyes, meeting your sincere gaze. His lips curved up. “I’ll look after you, too.”

You smiled along with him. You wrapped your arms around his waist tightly, embracing him, feeling even more intimate than sex. He let out a shaky breath, as if finally realizing he wasn't alone, didn't have to be. That he deserved a caring touch, a longing touch, a needy touch. That he could actually have something to himself.

You didn't know what you were to each other, and it really didn't matter. There was no need to label it so specifically. You could be his rock, his personal nurse, the person to stitch him up when he gets hurt. The one he could confide in, have sex with, whatever he needed. Whatever you needed. 

So when he kissed the top of your head while you hugged him, you tightened your arms just a little, holding onto him as long as he’ll let you.

You’ll look after each other.

[moonstruckme]

Hiiii!I hope your doing great I saw your requests just opened and I was wondering if you would mind doing a poly emt marauders with a reader that’s in hospital and they don’t know until they’re like bringing in someone in or something and their like why didn’t you tell us and she’s like oh cause I didn’t want you to worry.Something like that if not it’s fine have a good day!!!🌊

Thanks for requesting gorgeous! Not super sure if this is accurate since I don’t think paramedics usually spend much time inside the hospital but oh well haha. Hope you have a good day too! <3

cw: hospital/emergency room, mention of broken bone

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 827 words

You’re just on your way out of A&E, feeling sore and shattered and more than a little sorry for yourself, when someone says your name. With an odd mix of relief and trepidation mingling in your chest, you turn. 

Sirius makes it to your first. He takes your face in his hands, eyes scanning it over thoroughly before starting to make their way down your body. “Baby, what’s happened?” 

“Hey,” you say, “what are you doing here?” 

“Um, no.” James gives you a funny-looking smile, amusement tangled up with worry. “It’s fairly normal for us to be here, what are you doing here?” 

“I, um—” 

“Idiots.” Remus bypasses them both, taking your injured hand gently and holding it up where your other boyfriends can see it. “What happened here, lovely?” 

“I broke my finger,” you admit. 

Sirius looks devastated, though with the splint binding your two fingers together you thought it was fairly obvious. “How?” 

“Shut it in my car door.” 

James winces and Remus tsks compassionately, turning your hand so he can see the injured digit from another angle. 

“How long have you been here?” he asks.

You shrug, not quite looking at any of them. “I had to wait a while. A few hours.” 

Remus’ look lets you know your sheepishness isn’t without good reason. “Did you drive yourself like this?” 

You nod meekly. 

“Angel!” James wraps his arms around you, tucking your head underneath his chin, and you go happily. You’ll take his mollycoddling over Remus’ reproachful stare any day. “Why didn’t you call us? I can’t believe you had to sit here all by yourself.” 

“I knew you were busy at work, and I didn’t want to worry you.” Now Sirius is glaring at you, too. You snuggle further into James’ embrace. “It wasn’t so bad.” 

“Did they have to set it?” Sirius asks. 

Your face heats. “Yeah. It was pretty weird-looking when it first happened.” 

James makes a pitiful whining sound. “Poor love.” 

“How long did they tell you it’d take to heal?” Remus’ voice sounds somewhat gentler now. He finally relinquishes your injured hand to Sirius, who starts turning it about and inspecting it in the same manner, like the doctor who splinted it for you might not have done a good enough job. 

“Six to eight weeks,” you say glumly. It already feels annoyingly constraining not being able to bend either of those fingers; you’re not sure how you’re supposed to deal with it for weeks on end. 

The boys exchange a look, and James drops the protective circle of his arms from around you. “I’m going to go find Amelia,” he says, “see if she’s on break.” 

You clutch at his shirt with your good hand. “Don’t leave me,” you whisper. 

Your boyfriend smiles, dropping a kiss on your head. “Sorry, lovie.” 

“I think we ought to feel insulted,” Sirius comments as James walks away. Remus only shrugs. 

He reaches for your face now that it’s not hidden under James’ chin, wiping frownily at something on your cheek. 

“Are you feeling alright now, dove?” he asks, and you veritably liquefy at the tenderness in his voice. 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You shrug one shoulder lightly. “I’m sorry I didn’t call, but it really wasn’t awful.” 

Sirius gives your wrist an admonishing little squeeze. “You have tear marks on your face,” he contradicts you softly. 

“Oh.” You run a finger under your eyes, feeling your face heat. 

Remus tuts and lets his hand rest against the side of your neck, thumb stroking at your jaw. “We’re only on shift for another hour,” he tells you. “James is finding our friend Amelia so you can stay in the break room with her until we can come back and get you, okay?” 

You shake your head, and his stare hardens but you say anyway, “I don’t need to be babysat. I can get home on my own.” 

“You shouldn’t be driving after having anesthetic.” 

You narrow your eyes. “Wouldn’t they have told me if that were the case?” 

“We don’t want you driving with a numb hand,” Sirius clarifies. When you turn your attention to him, he gives you a stern look. “You should have called us in the first place. Just let us do what we can for you now, okay?” 

You sigh in resignation just as James comes up behind you again. Seeing as no one has taken over hug duty, he wraps both arms around your waist, setting his chin on your shoulder. 

“Okay,” you tell Sirius. 

“Oh, excellent. All on the same page, are we?” James turns his head to smooch your cheek. “Knew you’d come around, angel. Amelia’s ready for you, so you can hang in the break room until we get back.” 

“Is she going to baby me too?” you joke, letting him steer you towards the hallway. 

“Probably not,” Sirius says, “but don’t you worry, sweetness. We’ll make up for that when we get you home.” 

[caelanglang]

Happy Lunar New Year!

here's a lil comic of my skk little prince au i made a while back to greet you all :)) I hope your new year wishes come to fruition and that your year would be a blessed one <3

Anyways,,, new year shrine visit!

[demaparbat-hp]

No war au: first time meeting each other at a diplomatic event. zuko, crown prince of the fire nation kisses the hand of katara chief of the southern water tribe.

Beyond diplomacy.

[bilolli]

I mean, if you had a lot of money and had to always wear your pajama, wouldn't you want to change style sometimes?

I wonder who won.

[021894s]

SIMS ANATOMY - JAKE SIM

COMING JULY, 24 @ 6 PM PST

SYNOPSIS: you, a top cardiac surgeon, find yourself increasingly frustrated by the distraction over the hospital’s new head of neurosurgery, Dr. Jake Sim. Despite your initial annoyance, you can't help but notice Jake's charm and undeniable skills. As you keep running into each other, Jake’s persistent yet respectful flirtations begin to break through your professional exterior.

PAIRING: neurosurgeon! jake x cardio surgeon! reader

GENRE: workplace romance, situationship

WARNINGS: explicit smut, unprotected sex (don’t), oral (m and f receiving), angst, language, MDNI!!

wc: currently at 4k

TAGLIST IS CLOSED

[crow-perch]

happy anniversary deltarune chapter 2!!

@hoagiesnadwich 's penpals is one of my fav things ever. its so so damn good.

[baby-xemnas]

hospital AU feat. Kaya-chan

i love that kaya is studying to be a doctor i want her as the sweetest angel intern

[honey-bisc]

WOOHOO COTL @bamsara STICKERS!!! the lads!!!! 😈🙏 thank you so much for this!! side note, I hope you're feeling better and have a quick recovery!! 😭

[femrodeeeeo]

Girl get's admitted to mental health ward due to trauma from rape gets raped by 13yr old male patient. She was not helped despite staff being aware of what was happening.

I'm so horrified by what happened to this girl in a place where she was supposed to be to safe and given help to heal from her previous sexual assault. She is unable pursue legal action due to the severity of the trauma the rapist caused her as well as the legal process itself. She would be required to admit herself in that same hospital in order for them to monitor her mental wellbeing during the case.

I can't find anything to express the rage I felt when I first of this case.

[gerards-little-killj0y]

[ REDACTED ] IN BATTERY CITY_

CYBERPUNK KILLJOYS SERIES PART I

art by me :]

[moonstruckme]

Hi Mae!! I wanted to request a story where doctor!Remus and you are dating. You're out with James and Sirius whilst he's at work and you pass out/are sick/whatever you think fits the story and they freak out and take you to the hospital, where Remus sees you and loses his mind. He takes care of you and the guys are there for moral support. Also, reader is afraid of doctors in general but specially needles so putting that IV on is a hassle in itself hehe.

Thanks in advance!!!!

Hi, thanks for requesting!

cw: fear of hospitals and needles, somewhat angsty, mention of vomit (in the past tense, if that helps), this was sort of weird to write because I don't usually write reader arguing with their love interest like this but I hope it came out okay

doctor!Remus x fem!reader ♡ 1.3k words

You’re alerted to Remus’ arrival by Sirius’ shrill voice. 

“Finally! I’ve been texting you.” 

“We’re not really encouraged to be checking our phones during busy shifts,” says Remus. He sounds sharp and tired, and you look up from where your head rests on James’ shoulder just as he comes to a stop in front of your chair. A creased brow and gentle hands feeling at your forehead. “Hi, darling. Seems like that flu’s gotten a bit worse, hm?”

“You told us to check in on her,” Sirius goes on, “and we did, and we found her basically in a puddle of her own sick.” 

“She’d been sick in the toilet, and then fell asleep on the bathmat,” James clarifies. “But she seemed really very ill.” 

“Let’s go back,” Remus slides an arm around your waist, hoisting you up against his side and helping you walk towards the double doors that lead out of the waiting area. “What was her temp at when you found her?” 

“We don’t know.” Sirius trails behind, exasperated. “We couldn’t figure out where you kept your thermometer, and she was hardly in a state to say.” 

Remus makes a worried humming sound. “How are you feeling, dovey?”

“Tired,” you sigh, hoping you’re not leaning too hard against him but having a difficult time recalling what walking normally feels like, “‘nd my head hurts.” 

“She seems a bit better than when we first found her,” James says. You think you detect some worry in his tone as well. “She was just waking up then, and Sirius got her to drink some water in the car.” 

“Doesn’t sound like you’ve been taking very good care of yourself,” Remus murmurs, just for you. He kisses your head. “Poor love, I knew I shouldn’t have come to work today.” 

“M’alright,” you say, letting him help you onto a small cot in a curtained-off room. Sirius and James file in behind you, and Remus shuts the curtain once they’re inside. 

You look at him, and your surroundings, the machines and tools and the overwhelming harshness of it all, start to sink in for you. 

“Can you take me home?”

Remus’ expression is gentle. “Not yet, sweetheart. You should be feeling much better once I do, though, yeah?” He brushes a piece of hair away from your face, encouraging you to lie back on the pillow. “Would one of you want to hop up here with her?” he asks the other boys, then to you: “You don’t mind sharing your bed, do you?”

“No,” you say, somewhat bemusedly. Sirius grins at you, climbing over you to lie down by your side. 

“Thanks. I’m just gonna get your vitals now, dove.” 

You feel a bit silly, but your nerves worsen as Remus checks you over, sticking plasticy things in your ear and cold metal on your back and making his various concerned faces. He must notice something when he takes your pulse, because he thumbs over the skin of your forearm comfortingly. Sirius, noticing, works an arm under your shoulders and pulls you close to his side. 

“Alright,” Remus says in what you recognize to be his most soothing voice, “look at Sirius for me, please.” 

You, of course, look in the opposite direction of where he wants you, and he’s taking your arm, pushing up your sleeve. 

“Remus.” Betrayal sounds in your voice as you pull away from him, holding your arm close to your side. 

He sighs. “You need fluids and medicine to get better. You want to go home, yeah?” 

“I don’t want an IV,” you say in a tight voice. 

Remus softens. He rubs your leg through your pajama pants. “I know, babydove, but you need to have one. I’ll get it over with as quickly as I can.” 

“I had to have one last summer, when I got dehydrated,” James pipes up. He’s stolen a small stool likely meant for the doctor and is swiveling back and forth restlessly. “It wasn’t as bad as you might think. I hardly remembered it was there most of the time.” 

“I just don’t want to,” you say again, voice going quiet and frail. Your vision starts to blur. 

“Take a deep breath,” Remus coaches in that lulling voice. It’s half working, a familiar sort of comfort wrapping like a blanket around your frazzled nerves. You feel torn between your trust in your boyfriend and your absolute terror of everything that happens in a hospital. “You’re alright, yeah? This is the last thing you have to do for me. After, you can rest or have a nap, and when you’re well enough you can go home, okay? I might even be able to go with you.” 

You shake your head wordlessly, feeling ridiculous and childish but altogether petrified as you wipe tears from underneath your eyes. 

“Oh, sweetheart.” His brows pinch, and he leans over, kissing your temple. “You’ll be okay, I promise. Look over at Sirius, yeah?” 

You cry but don’t resist as Sirius uses the arm around your shoulders to turn your face away, feeling Remus take your arm in his grasp. His fingers press gently into the crook of your elbow. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” Sirius says quietly. He touches his lips to your forehead. “You’ve got this, babe, it’ll be over before you know it.” 

Remus is obviously doing his best to make good on this promise. He ties the tourniquet quickly, and something cold and wet swipes over your skin. The bite of the needle doesn’t come as a surprise, but you take in a tiny, petrified breath anyway. It rasps wetly in your throat. 

“You’re alright,” Remus murmurs, undoing the tourniquet as he speaks. “You’re doing so well, almost done now.” 

You’re not in pain, necessarily, but the sensation of a foreign object in your arm is distinctly unsettling, and Sirius makes a soft sound of distress when your weeping worsens. None of this is helping your headache, either. Your sinuses throb. 

“There.” You hear tape ripping, and then Remus is pressing it carefully over the spot in your arm. “There, done.” 

Sirius lets go of your face. The moment you turn around Remus’ is on you, brushing away your tears and kissing your hairline apologetically. 

“That’s it, darling, you can relax now. You did so well. Do you feel alright?” 

“He means are you cross with him,” James translates helpfully. 

Remus gives his friend an exasperated look, but his smile is sheepish. “That too, I suppose.” 

“Honestly?” Your voice is pitchy. It scratches against your flu-torn throat. “A little, but not really. I’ll get past it.” 

Remus gives a little laugh. “Oh, my love.” He bends forward, wrapping you up in a hug. “Thank you. I can live with that.” He holds the back of your head, rubbing between your shoulder blades firmly. When he lets you go, it’s with a kiss to your brow. “Sirius, get out of her bed. She needs to rest.” 

“Excuse me?” Sirius is affronted. “I think I’ve just proven I make an excellent pillow. And where am I supposed to sit? James has taken the only stool.” 

“He can stay,” you tell Remus. 

“Thank you, gorgeous. See? Jamie, come over here so we can watch a film on your phone.” 

Remus rolls his eyes, stepping aside to let James scoot by on his stool. “Fine, but try to get some actual sleep. I want your temperature down when I come back to check on you, yeah?” 

“You’re the doctor,” Sirius points out, getting cozy on his side of the bed as you and James scroll through films. “What’s she supposed to do, will it down? Sod off.” 

Remus heaves a long-suffering sigh, pulling off his gloves and dropping them in the trash can. “So glad you’re here.” 

“And where would your girl be if we weren’t, Rem?” asks James, looking up from his phone to raise his brows. “She’s lucky to have us.” 

Remus rolls his eyes, leaving the room. “Aren’t we all.”