#IVE BEEN STARING AT IT SIT AT THE POST OFFICE FOR FIVE HOURS JUST SAY ITS COMING TOMORROW

[hiwasseeriver]

“this package is arriving today” no the fuck it isnt liar

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

calculated iii, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: You wanted to say that you were able to control yourself around him and not to have wild sex at school. But this is Jeon Jungkook we’re talking about. And what Jungkook wants, Jungkook gets. You wore that pencil skirt for a reason, after all.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; intense smut (fem reader, semi-public sex, dirty talk, nipple play, choking, m-receiving oral, gagging, pussy spanking, fingering, penetrative sex); fluff; non-idol!AU - university!AU; dom!Jungkook x sub!noona!reader, ft Jimin once again, lol

–

part i | part ii | part iii | part iv

-

Career Week was somewhat of a nightmare.

So much running around, prepping tables, setting up presentations, helping the guests with their computers before their seminars, and you had to be dressed professionally too. Not just ‘nice’ clothes, but white dress shirt, slim black tie, tailored black vest, and matching fitted black slacks. It had to be monotone, it had to be hyper professional, and you had to wear heels.

Why had you agreed to this again?

Oh, yes, Kim Namjoon on his knees begging for help because he was overworked and they needed volunteers. And you, being far too responsible, accepted.

Not only were you also overworked, but Jeon Jungkook was staring at you across the auditorium.

In all-black – leather jacket, high-necked shirt, slim-fit jeans. Sharp jawline, tanned high cheekbones, piercing dark brown eyes, his black hair pushed back with a few strands on his forehead, revealing his clean undercut.

And he was smirking at you.

You highly doubted he was here to investigate prospective career paths. Actually, you were a hundred-and-ten percent positive that that was not the reason he was here and the soreness between your inner thighs proved it. You were willing to bet Park Jimin’s right nutsack.

Yeah, sorry Jimin, but you needed all your body parts.

For one reason, really, and that reason was staring you right now.

Who was going to hire him when he was dressed like that anyway? You certainly wouldn’t. Mostly because it was distracting. No one could work with Jeon Jungkook looking like that. You couldn’t, anyway. Well, maybe if his work was wrecking your–

Get back to your damn task, you scolded yourself.

You were setting up chairs for the cardiologist that was arriving soon. All the doctors always had tons of students listening, so the administration instructed you to pack as many seats that could be crammed into the space without causing a fire hazard. You unfolded the metal chairs, arranging them neatly, already knowing they would be an incomprehensible mess when the students left and that you would be the one cleaning up after them.

Sigh.

Come to think of it, it was all Park Jimin’s fault that you were being violently undressed by Jungkook’s eyes right now. If he had kept his trap shut and let you live in blissful ignorance, maybe you wouldn’t be trying to hide your wincing every time you bent over. You snuck a glance at Jungkook.

He cocked an eyebrow, highly amused.

Never mind, you probably still would have been accosted at Calculus I office hours, except instead of the door being closed and locked and having Jimin’s warning texts, you two probably would have been caught and expelled.

You grumbled and slid a chair into place, taking back your former thoughts and thanking Jimin in your mind. He wasn’t even here to witness your inner struggle.

Jimin probably would have found it funny.

You went back to your chairs, not addressing Jeon Jungkook’s presence anymore because if you looked at him again, you probably would have abandoned your post. And he knew it.

-

The next day, you already knew Jungkook would show up again. Mostly because he texted you a winking face of a semicolon and parenthesis, to which you didn’t respond, because you would probably get roped into phone sex in under twenty seconds, and you had to help this extremely riveting lawyer set up his laptop for the projector.

As in, you were ready to tape his mouth shut as he blabbed on and on about his work and how important it was to society, which it was, because defense attorneys were very important, but this guy’s laptop was a fucking hot mess of icons all over his desktop. This was a personal pet peeve of yours, as you liked to be neat and organized, with everything clearly labeled with dates. You didn’t care about most people’s personal habits, but it was annoying when you were trying to assist and the owner of said laptop was not shutting up and demanding noises of affirmation that you were listening.

If it wasn’t Jungkook demanding you to swallow his cock, you honestly couldn’t give a single shit–

You finally got his PowerPoint working and had him scroll through the slides to make sure it was the correct one. He thanked you and you realized the older man was looking at you up and down, the same way Jungkook usually did, except in this case you were not even remotely interested.

Guess everyone had the right to get a good look before they die.

You were wearing a white chiffon blouse with a black silk neck scarf, with a tight knee-length black pencil skirt, sheer tights and sleek black heels. You knew how good your ass looked in this skirt and you had worn it for a specific purpose.

“We will be letting the students in five minutes early to get settled,” you stated briskly, cutting the older man from his daydreams. “You will have forty-five minutes for your presentation, and then we’ll have a fifteen-minute question session, led by my associate, Kim Namjoon here.”

As if on cue, Namjoon appeared, cheerful smile with cute dimples, handing the lawyer a mic.

“Let’s test the microphone and the backup to make sure you don’t have any hiccups,” Namjoon instructed merrily, instantly captivating the man’s attention and diverting it from you.

You mouthed a ‘thank you’ behind the man’s back and Namjoon gave you the tiniest of nods as you excused yourself. Hmph. You knew people would notice – you were wearing makeup for once and would be around students and professionals all day, after all – but to be so shameless and gawk like that was annoying. Plus, the guy probably had a wife and kids.

You made your way to the bathroom to check your appearance. Maybe your makeup was a bit off or something. You had Jimin check you over this morning. Surprisingly, he knew a lot about cosmetics and how to look good in all lighting. Must be a dance major thing.

Ah, the door to the women’s bathroom. You hiked your skirt up a bit do you could use your damn knees to walk, because they had been suffocating for the past two hours–

Long fingers suddenly gripped your upper arm and yanked you around the corner, slamming you into a muscular body and black biker jacket. You nearly stumbled in your heels, but a second hand came to practically lift you off the floor and shove you into the wall.

“Good afternoon, noona.”

A clear, silvery voice.

You couldn’t possibly guess who it was.

“Why, fancy seeing you here, Jung–”

You were abruptly cut off by his lips crashing into yours, one hand grabbing the back of your head and disturbing your perfect bun. You whimpered, feeling him shove you into the wall again, your shoulder blades hitting the painted brick. His tongue slid into your mouth, exhaling into your throat and forcing you swallow his breath. Your hands clutched your skirt, moaning as his hard body pressed yours against the wall.

Jungkook drew back, panting a little. Looking so handsome with his slightly slicked-back hair, black strands around his right eye, chiseled jawline, silver hoops glinting in the hall light. He arched a sculpted eyebrow at you, smirking. His pink lips had a little red on them from kissing you.

“Now, you know you can’t be looking so delicious and not expect me to want to eat you up,” he purred, licking your lips. Your breathing hitched at the touch, unlocking your death grip on your skirt.

“What are you talking about?” you answered evenly despite your panties literally turning into Niagara Falls with the way he was looking at you like a carnivore at an all-meat buffet. “I have to dress like this for Career Week. Everyone has to dress professionally.”

Jungkook nodded, not believing a single word coming out of your mouth. His right hand came up, ink black tattoos against tan skin, and reached around to your bun, slowly pulling the hairpins out. Your skin tingled at the sensation of your hair gradually unravelling.

“A professional that I would hire to sit on my dick,” he mused.

You raised an eyebrow at him, your hair tumbling around your shoulders. “Subtle.”

Jungkook showed you the removed hairpins, opened his jacket, and tucked them in his inner pocket.

“I wouldn’t work for you anyway,” you added haughtily.

With each passing moment, Jungkook was becoming increasingly amused and aroused. You could tell by the way he was shoving his crotch into your thigh and by how wide his smirk was getting. The slacks he was wearing did nothing to hide his erection and you had a sneaking suspicion that he didn’t care.

“Oh? Why not?”

“I don’t know if I could trust someone younger than me to do a good job.”

He was unbuttoning your chiffon blouse now, humming. “I’m good at many things.” His dark eyes flickered to yours. “I think you would know.”

Your hands grabbed his despite him already having all the visible buttons completely open. Cold air drifted onto your heaving chest and white lace bra.

“Jungkook, we’re in a public place, again,” you hissed, narrowing your eyes at him.

“I don’t recall that being a problem,” he drawled, removing his hands from yours and squeezing your ass. “I’m beginning to think you like it.”

You sucked in a breath as his strong hands kneaded you through your skirt. Your hormones would absolutely let Jungkook rip off your clothes right here and let him fuck you, but the sliver of your brain that had any sense at all reminded you that you had to find a closed space. Jungkook slapped your ass, loudly, the sound echoing across the empty hallway. You nearly moaned, but bit your tongue, glaring at him.

“I have to get back,” you snapped. “And look presentable.”

Jungkook licked his teeth. “Hm. You have an hour before you have to appear to the public eye.”

Who the heck told him that? He smirked slyly at you as he saw your reaction.

“I could drag you to the bathroom–”

“At least give me more class than the woman’s bathroom,” you interrupted.

Jungkook looked annoyed that you had cut him off and also looked like he was going to remind you later. His fingers dug into your hips sharply and you gasped, back pressed flat against the wall. He inhaled a deep breath and began again, voice dangerously low.

“As I was saying,” he continued. “I’m going to take you into this classroom that I stole the key for.”

You frowned as Jungkook hoisted you up swiftly, princess-style, shirt still wide open. Fuck, what was he so strong for? He carried you down the hallway to the classrooms. You tried to close your shirt, but he growled at you, so you rolled your eyes and pushed the sides open, letting your bra-covered tits hang out. He seemed satisfied about this.

“Why would you steal a key?” you muttered as he deftly kicked the door open.

Jungkook slid through the door sideways. “So I could fuck you, of course.”

He dropped you and you had to catch yourself on your heels before you broke an ankle and ate shit. Half the lights turned on. You could hear him locking the door as you smoothed your skirt.

You turned to face him, saying, “You shouldn’t be a thief just because you’re horny, Jungkook.”

Jungkook turned around slowly from the now locked door. You were about to say something else, but your words died in your throat as you witnessed the overwhelming lust in his dark piercing eyes.

“I would be a thief, a murderer, and evade taxes for your body,” he snarled, advancing on you.

You pulled your blouse out of your skirt so he wouldn’t rip it, backing up into the desks. “You’ll get caught with the last one,” you said quietly, already removing your blouse and letting it fall onto a spare seat. “First two are acceptable.”

Jungkook grinned devilishly, licking his pink lips.

“Come here.”

You chewed on your lower lip, staring at his beautiful eyes, finding yourself already walking to him, heels clicking loudly in the empty room, but it didn’t matter, because he was the master now and you were the willing servant. Or slave. 

Take your pick.

He smirked at your obedience, placing his hands on your shoulders, stopping you. His dark orbs lingered down your body, focusing on all his favorite spots, pressing his fingertips into your skin.

“One day,” you said quietly. “We’re going to get in trouble.”

Jungkook’s powerful dark orbs shifted upwards, capturing yours. Time slowed down. You stared into his dark brown eyes, unable to look away, your heart beating in time with his words.

“You’re already in trouble.”

Voice haunting you, teasing smirk on his lips, and perfectly in command.

“From the second you let me have my hands on you.”

You gasped as his nails dug into your skin, scratching down your collarbones, leaving red marks. He snapped the straps of your bra, hard, and you whined, eyes pleading for him to take it off. His palms pressed into the lace cups, squeezing them roughly. Tongue dancing in between his lips as he felt your nipples harden, barely covered by the lace.

“You’re so dirty, noona,” he purred, lowering his palms and pinching your nipples through the thin fabric, smirking at your wanton moan. “Wearing such slutty underwear under these professional clothes.”

You whimpered as he tugged on them. “No one’s going to see them but you, Jungkook.”

He clamped your nipples between his thumbs and knuckles, dragging you to him. You sank your teeth into your lower lip, pussy throbbing as you collided with his firm chest. His breath was scorching hot against your skin, making you shiver.

“What if someone finds out? Some idiot like a perverted old man staring at your ass in this skirt?”

You snorted. “I’ll rip his head off.”

Jungkook snickered, flicking your nipples with your answer. “You wouldn’t let me do it for you?”

Your hips rolled into his, hands on his waist to keep yourself up as he played with you. “I’ll reattach it for you so you can do the same.”

He laughed, almost a little too jovially for the part he was playing, but then he was back, tipping his head close to yours, blowing soft air onto your lips. You frowned, glaring at him for the lack of kiss.

“If possible, you’re even hotter dressed like this,” Jungkook murmured, his forehead against yours. “So prim and proper, even with a cute gag tied around your neck,” he added, playing with the ends of your neck scarf. “You could be a CEO, and I could be the janitor fucking you on your penthouse-floor desk.” He was undoing your scarf now, teasing it apart, making you breathless. “Maybe fuck you against the window so everyone can see how good I make you feel, noona.”

“Give yourself a little more credit than a janitor,” you muttered, stiffening as Jungkook ran his fingertips over your throat, nails grazing your skin.

“True, I would rather be your secretary so I can follow you around and stare at your ass in this skirt,” he chuckled, lacing his fingers around your neck. Thumb under your ear, the other four fingers under your other ear. You made eye contact with him. He looked almost bored, one of his eyebrows raised, but he was watching you, predatory and attentive.

“I know what I’m doing.”

His whisper was so soft that you barely heard it, but the words were there.

His grip tightened around your throat.

You gasped, feeling the blood flow thinning, hazing your mind. Jungkook watched your expression, reaching around with the hand that was holding your scarf, unclasping your lace bra. You could feel it fall down your arms, but your thoughts were rapidly being clouded by lightheadedness and lust, Jungkook smirking at you as he lifted the silk scarf into your vision.

“J… Jungkook…” you choked out.

The mole underneath his lower lip winked at you as he grinned, brushing the silk against your hard, abused nipples, touch so light, and yet it made your whine, wanting more stimulation but unable to ask because you knew he was toying with you.

“What’s wrong?” Jungkook taunted. “Not intense enough for my naughty noona?”

He choked you harder and you couldn’t respond, eyes rolling back into your head as black spots danced in your vision, the sensation intensifying but still not enough, not enough, and you shoved your hips into his repeatedly, whimpering, hands clutching his black shirt, nails digging into his abs.

“So needy for me,” he breathed, feathery touches of silk against your nipples. “Are you only mine?”

He leaned forward, loosening his grip a little. The blood violently rushed back into your head and all you could hear Jungkook’s cruel whisper of your name, tearing a moan from your lips, a raspy yes, yes, fuck, Jungkook, I’m only yours.

He chuckled darkly.

Then he forced you to your knees, tits bouncing uncomfortably as you slid on your heels, knees hitting the tile floor. You clutched his clothed legs, panting, brain only half-functioning due to the lack of blood and the relentless teasing. You lifted your head back up to look at him, panting hard.

Jungkook cracked his neck sharply, a harsh pop. “I want to believe you, noona, but you’re dressed so fucking sexy that I can’t.” His dark eyes bore into you, tearing you up, and you were dripping onto your inner thighs. He emphasized his words with a raise of his eyebrow.

“Letting other people fantasize about this body that belongs to me isn’t acceptable.”

His hands reached down, fingers of his right hand playing with the button of his pants, tattoos dancing with his movement. He smirked as you watched him, eyes darting from his face to his hands. Shit, you were nearly drooling with anticipation. You swallowed as he teased the button free.

“You gonna show me that you remember who you belong to?”

You nodded quickly, maybe too quickly, but it was doomed now anyway because Jungkook was lowering the zipper, pushing down his pants and underwear, past his muscular thighs. It was obvious this was getting him off as much as it was getting you off, because he was rock-hard, leaking, tip already a dark red. Jungkook grabbed the back of your head and shoved his hips into your cheek, smearing his pre-cum onto your skin, all the way up to your cheekbone. He hissed, using his hand to press the head against your temple, nearly into your hair.

Fuck, he was so fucking close to your mouth, but he wasn’t letting you have it.

Damnnit.

Your tongue snaked out and softly licked his balls, eyes on his face, watching him tip his head back and moan. You licked more, creeping your head closer, pressing your lips against his hot skin. He was letting you do it, holding his cock out of the way as you wrapped your lips around his balls and sucked, pushing them around with your tongue, pleading noises in your throat, begging him for his cock as you bobbed your head up and down under his hips.

Jungkook’s dark eyes shifted down to you, triumphant grin on his lips.

“You want to swallow my cock, noona?” he teased, smacking it against your face, leaving a string of pre-cum connecting your cheek to his cock. You narrowed your eyes at him, as if to say, no fucking shit, you punk ass bitch, and he chuckled deep in his chest. He looked past your head, down your back.

“Such a nice ass.”

You smacked his leg, aware that he was doing it on purpose to piss you off. He smirked knowingly, placing his palm on your forehead and pushing you off his balls.

“Swallow it all and don’t choke,” Jungkook snarled, shoving his cock into your open mouth.

Your eyes widened at the sudden intrusion, relaxing your throat muscles as Jungkook forcefully pushed into your lips, sighing with satisfaction as he buried himself to the hilt, his strong fingers tangled in your hair.

“Fuck, so good,” he moaned, making his cock throb into the roof of your mouth. You whined, hands on his hips, waiting for him to let you move. “Your throat feels so fucking good, noona. If only they knew how good you are, how perfectly slutty you are for me.” He snickered, releasing his hand, glaring down into your eyes.

“But they’re never going to know, because you’ll never service another cock ever again.”

You whimpered, nails digging into his thighs.

He ticked his chin at you. “Go on, noona. Show me how much you love my cock.”

You began to move, pressing your tongue against the bottom as you slid up and down his length, moaning at his taste. So good. You generated more saliva and ran it all over the head, sucking hard. He inhaled sharply as you teased the sensitive underside, tongue against the opening.

“That’s it,” Jungkook breathed. “Give it to me like you mean it.”

You gripped his thighs and began to bob your head back and forth, ramming the head into the back of your throat and squeezing it before arching your neck so it ran across the roof of your mouth and then back down so it hit your throat again. Was this going to make you hoarse? Probably, but you didn’t a single shit, because Jungkook moaning for you and telling you how good you were was much more important. The pace was slow at first, but you went faster and faster, tighter, your breasts bouncing with every movement, eyes closed to savor his taste and steel your concentration of not gagging because Jungkook was so big, so thick, so perfectly rough, and your tongue could feel him throbbing inside your mouth.

“Fuck,” he growled above you, nearly feral with desire. “Fuck, I’m going to cum down that perfect throat of yours, noona.”

His thighs tensed under your hands and you knew he was close. You increased the intensity, neck straining, already aching with how fast you were going.

“Drink it all and don’t fucking waste it.”

Jungkook grabbed you by your hair and thrusted his hips into your face, moaning lustfully as he shot into your mouth, hot creamy strings into your throat. You swallowed fast to avoid choking, gulping loudly as he gave you more, more, fuck it was so delicious that you gasped, swirling your tongue around his jerking cock and lapping it all up. Whimpering, you wrapped your lips around the head and milked it dry, rubbing your lips against the skin where the head and length connected.

“You’re so fucking good,” Jungkook sighed, running his fingers through your hair, pulling it away from your face. “So messy and dirty. I love it, noona.” He pressed your mouth down his entire length and held you there.

Your name drifted out of his lips, a sweet exhale.

He kept you there. You felt some of your spit drip down your chin and hit your breasts. You flinched at the coldness, still holding onto his hips. Jungkook finally looked down at you, chest heaving, panting. He looked like he wanted to say something. You shot him a questioning look, unable to respond, mouth still full of his cock.

He released your head, untangling his fingers from your hair. You drew your mouth back, rubbing your jaw and throat a little. Jungkook had a strange expression, lips parted, brows furrowed, the muscles in his neck tensed. He seemed a bit spaced out. You tilted your head.

Something felt off.

You stood up with as much grace as you could, knees aching, heels snapping to the tile floor. He still wasn’t looking at you. You backed up, to the desks, finding a study one.

“Jungkook.”

You smacked the wood loudly with your flat palm.

He whipped his head towards you, dark eyes flashing. Perfect. You smirked, placing your hands on your pencil skirt. Sank your fingers in, gripping the fabric. Jungkook’s voracious eyes watched your movement, each hike revealing more and more of your legs. A slow smirk formed on his lips. You yanked your skirt all the way up to your waist, revealing your white lace panties and sheer pantyhose, black fabric bunched around your waist.

Jungkook reached down and pulled his pants up, raising his eyebrows as he walked over, lower lip in between his teeth as he grinned at you.

“That’s a dangerous position to be in, noona,” he purred. “You know I love fucking you on a desk.”

You bounced your ass up onto the table, closing your legs, knees together. Placed your hands on your lap, pushing your tits together. Jungkook licked his lips, the predatory glint back in his eye. You kept your tone stern, with a hint if disapproval.

“Really? Because for a second there, I was beginning to think you lost your nerve.”

The menace in his eyes made your shiver with anticipation. You could tell Jungkook liked it too, your word selection, your tone, your defiance. He shrugged out of his leather jacket, and it fell to the floor with an oppressive thump. You sucked in a tight breath. The shirt was short sleeved, exposing his tattooed right forearm and his equally beautiful tanned left one. Some of his long black hair was falling down, brushing against his right cheekbone.

His eyes were so dark that you felt like they were devouring you.

Jungkook placed his large hands on your knees and vehemently shoved them apart, spreading your legs wide. He gave you a cold, expressionless stare as he placed a hand on your stomach, putting you onto your elbows, hips tipped up towards him. You were embarrassingly wet, juices soaked into your inner thighs, lace panties already molded to your soaked folds, the sheer pantyhose doing nothing to protect you from him and his hungry eyes. His voice was icy, making your pussy throb with need.

“Noona, if you close your legs, I’m going to punish you,” Jungkook warned.

Part of you wanted to know what the punishment was, but the other part of you really wanted to orgasm, so kept your snide remark to yourself and simply nodded.

Jungkook removed his hands from your knees and placed them on your shuddering breasts. Fuck. You hadn’t realized you were so horny until Jungkook touched you. A pained whimper strained in your throat.

The side of his lips curved upwards.

“Does my dirty, slutty noona want to be fucked?” His nails sank down, digging into your skin. “Do you want to be used by me, your tight little pussy stretched out and pleading for more?” Jungkook leaned forward, breathing into your face, growling whisper against your lips. He pinched your nipples and you moaned, wanting to kiss him, but knowing he wasn’t going to let you. He chuckled darkly, seeing your desperation.

“Do you want to be a slave for Jungkookie’s cock, noona?”

Fuuuuuuuck.

Your heart was beating so fast that your breathing was coming out in little gasps as he twisted your nipples harshly, rubbing the tips with his thumb. Your legs shook, threatening to close because the lack of friction was killing you.

“Y-yes, Jungkook, fuck yes.”

He yanked on your nipples and slapped them, making you hiss with pain, flinching as the sting shot up your chest. Jungkook reached into his back pocket and produced the silk neck scarf.

“Keep quiet for me noona or everyone will know how much of a slut you are for me.”

And then he shoved your own scarf into your parted lips, gagging you. Not a second too soon, because, without warning, Jungkook immediately spanked your barely clothed clit. You yelped around the silk, thighs quivering. He gripped one of your thighs, digging his nails into it, tearing the sheer pantyhose a little.

“Don’t move and take it,” he snarled.

Your back arched as Jungkook began to slap your pussy, hard, unforgiving, loud, and making you wetter and wetter, so much so his hand was slipping a little with each smack. You screamed around the scarf, hips trembling as they rose to meet each hit, flaring pain in between your thighs but so, so good. He clenched his jaw, dark eyes on your quickly reddening pussy lips that were sucking your panties deeper and deeper into your slit.

“Fuck,” he growled. “Fuck, you’re so hot and so fucking perfect for me.”

He removed his hand from your thigh and ripped the center seam of your pantyhose apart.

You started, eyes widening as you watched him tear through it, yelling at him through the scarf. You still needed to wear those! The small tears were one thing, but a full-on giant rip at the crotch was not going to be comfortable to wear for the rest of the day.

Jungkook smirked, raising a hand to his ear. “What’s that? Can’t hear you.”

You glared at him and was about to remove the scarf from your mouth to scold him, but his smirk turned into a roguish grin.

“Hm? Slap you harder and abuse your clit?”

You paled.

“My pleasure.”

You threw you head back as Jungkook mercilessly spanked your now only lace-covered clit, impossibly fast, towering over you and hooking his arm under your back, dragging you to him, arching your spine more, more, so your tits were straight up, bouncing right in his face as he changed from smacking your clit to rubbing it just as fast, rougher, so intense you were hoarsely wailing into the gag.

All of a sudden, your orgasm violently rammed into you, pleasure racking your entire body, amplified by stinging pain. Your pussy clenched around nothing, wetly squelching as Jungkook breathed hotly down on your nipples, still rubbing you through your orgasm, not letting up. You shook your head furiously, trying to tell him it was too much, that you were too sensitive, but you didn’t lift your hands to stop him, only spreading your fingers against the table, palms flat as your hips raised to his fingers.

You felt his hair brush against your nipples as he licked your cleavage, smirking up at your face.

“One more and then I’ll fuck you the way I want to, noona.”

Your legs were losing feeling from how hard you were locking them in place as you felt Jungkook pry your lace panties out of your pussy, shoving them to one side. Oh shit. You moaned as you felt him shove two fingers into you, eyes squeezing shut as he added a third, scissoring them as he smiled cruelly at you, eagerly watching your reaction.

“Such a greedy pussy, sucking in my fingers like this,” Jungkook drawled, your walls clenching around them, feeling every callus and every joint, all the way to his knuckles. “All mine, my beautiful, slutty noona.”

You would have asked Jungkook what the time was if your brain could still function, but your brain timed itself out, because Jungkook was thrusting his fingers into you now, filling you up, and feeding your need and desperation, assaulting your pussy with pleasure. The pain of your stinging, puffy lips rubbing against his hand added to the ecstasy, heightening it, your moaning now unintelligible behind the silk scarf that was saturated with your saliva. The sound was obscene, sloppy smacking sounds of your drenched hole getting pounded into the desk.

You threw your head back and choked out his name around the makeshift gag, throbbing pussy clamping down on his fingers. Thick, viscous liquid gushed out onto his palm, the back of his hand, dripping down to his wrist. It was so intense that your entire body jerked up into Jungkook’s face, hitting him with your tits.

If Jungkook was mad about it, he didn’t show it. He wrenched his slick fingers out and you whined, watching him with glazed eyes as licked them off, ferally growling at your taste. He released your back from his arm and you slid down, laying against the desk, panting.

“You taste extra delicious today, noona,” he chuckled. “Candy always tastes better in cute packaging.”

You barely had time to register that Jungkook had just compared you to a fucking convenience store snack before he yanked down his pants again, whipping out a foil packet and ripping it open. Less than a second and the condom was on, and then Jungkook shoved his cock into you, a startled gasp dying in your very over-used throat.

Jungkook moaned your name above you, softly and lustfully, pulling your hips closer to him so he was all the way inside you. You clenched around his length and he sighed, small smirk on his pink lips, eyelids fluttering.

“You’re going to kill me one day with how perfectly tight you are for me,” he mumbled.

Your eyes found his and he grinned, looking down at you through his lashes, his hair obscuring half his face.

Fuck, you could stare at him all day.

Jungkook placed your legs around his waist, finally letting them rest from the forced spreading. He roughly jerked his hips into yours and you whimpered, nails clawing into the desk. His fingers dug into your hips and he set his jaw, beginning a hard, fast pace, slapping your hips together, fucking you into the desk. It scraped noisily into the floor, but neither of you cared, you abused pussy lips rubbing against his crotch every time his hips met yours, carried to new heights of pain and pleasure, loving every second, every moment of Jungkook using you to chase his own orgasm, his cock swelling and dragging against your tight walls. So much. So full.

You could never be satisfied with another cock.

“Fuck.”

Jungkook hissed, grip on your hips tightening, bruising you with his fingertips.

“Fuck, noona, I love you.”

Your heart stopped.

And then your orgasm crashed down, overtaking you completely, your head smacking the desk and seeing stars, clenching around Jungkook’s cock and pulsating violently around his length, soaking his thighs with your juices, scent so strong you were sure whatever class that was going to use this lecture hall next was going to smell your cum splattering to the floor.

Jungkook gritted his teeth and rammed his hips into you, dragging you down to meet every thrust, intensifying your orgasm, ripping your pantyhose even more. Once, twice, three times, and he groaned, shuddering as he spilled into the condom, cock shivering inside you as he came. You could feel how much it was, pressing against your walls.

His long hair was all over his face, black strands clinging to his tan skin, sweat dripping off his chin, pink lips quivering, dark eyes roaming over your fucked-out form. Panting hard, matching your heavy, grating breaths behind your now saliva-drenched neck scarf. After a long moment, Jungkook reached down and held onto the condom, slowly pulling out of you.

Holy fuck.

Holy fuck.

You reached up with a shaking hand, pulling the silk out of your mouth. It came out in a long strip of fabric, smacking against your cheek as your removed it from your lips.

Holy.

Fuck.

You sat up, your body screaming at you, seeing Jungkook breathing hard, tying up the condom.

“Did you just tell me you love me?”

Jungkook’s ears turned bright red. He chewed on his lip, biting it hard before facing you. Dark brown eyes suddenly vulnerable, scared. It was the most uncharacteristic expression you had ever witnessed on Jeon Jungkook’s chiseled, handsome face.

“Uh… yeah.”

There was a moment where you realized both you two were mostly naked in a random classroom, clothes thrown everywhere, having made a mess once again.

“Sorry,” Jungkook added quickly. “It slipped out.”

You blinked at him. “Why are you apologizing?”

He rubbed his nose, looking away.

“Well… aren’t you just fucking me because you like to be dominated?”

You frowned. “No, I’m fucking you because I’m in love with you.”

You saw Jungkook freeze. He turned his head robotically, eyes wide and doe-like. “R-really?”

You looked down to notice that your heels were on the tile floor. When had you lost those? You grumbled, trying to straighten out your panties and the remains of your pantyhose. It was doomed. You shrugged, dangling your legs over the edge of the desk as you looked back at Jungkook and his surprised expression. You raised an eyebrow.

“Are you really that much of an idiot?” you muttered, your own cheeks burning, letting out a puff of annoyed air. “Yes, I love you. Why else would I tolerate you staring at me like I’m some kind of zoo animal? Why else would I risk getting in trouble by running around like this? Why else would I let you fuck me at school, in the middle of the damn day, again?”

Jungkook rubbed the back of his neck. “Erm… because I’m hot?”

You rubbed your forehead and sighed exasperatedly, standing up, instantly wincing. Jungkook took a step forward to catch you, but he almost tripped on his pants down his ankles. You caught yourself against the desk and raised a hand, shaking your head.

“Pack your damn dick,” you muttered. You yanked your tights down your legs, removing them and balling them up. They were useless now anyway. You found your bra and put it back on as you eyed your chiffon blouse. Good thing it wasn’t ripped. It only took you a moment to slip it back on, rebuttoning it and tucking it into your skirt. You pulled your pencil skirt back down, straightening it, thighs immediately sticking together from your own fluids.

Yup, still no more comfortable than yanking your pants back on after a session with Jungkook.

You noticed him putting his leather jacket back on and picking up the condom wrapper. He took the silk scarf from the table and shoved it in his back pocket. You went back to him to gather your shoes, but he knelt down, holding out your black heels as if you were Cinderella.

“I can just–”

“Step.”

His tone was sharp and you immediately obeyed, raising your foot and stepping into your shoe. First one, then the other. Jungkook stood back up, exhaling a little. You looked up at him. His chocolate eyes flitted about tensely. He opened his mouth to speak.

“Do you… uh…”

You cut him off. “Jungkook, if you cheat on me, I will personally castrate you with a spoon.”

He cringed. “Ouch.”

You took the used condom and the wrapper bits from him, shoving them into your balled-up pantyhose. You marched towards the door confidently, pain shooting throughout your body with every step. Jungkook called after you.

“Your hairpins.”

You turned your head back a little.

“You can drop them off at my apartment later.”

And then you unlocked the door and stepped out of the classroom.

Park Jimin waved at you, grinning. Plump lips curved into a mischievous smile, wearing a denim jacket and jeans. You almost jumped seeing him standing there. What the fuck is with this guy’s timing? He eyed your hand holding your ruined pantyhose and you put it behind your back, glaring at him.

“I told Namjoon you had a lady emergency.” Jimin wiggled his eyebrows at you before holding up your phone and black purse, the belongings you had left in the back room. “You took longer than you should have.”

You felt your ears burn. “Shit. I need to get back.”

“To Jungkook, yeah,” Jimin chimed teasingly, making you glower at him.

Of course. Jungkook had turned Jimin into his scout for your escapades. Fantastic. You suddenly felt a strong presence behind you. The door had opened and Jungkook’s arm snaked around your waist, yanking you possessively to his side. He placed his chin on top of your head, inhaling the scent of your hair.

“You wanna go on a date, noona?” Jungkook purred, his free hand playing with the ends of your disheveled hair.

You pursed your lips. “I have to get back and help Namjoon.”

Jimin waved a hand. “He’ll be fine for one day. Plus, you’re being kidnapped.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but Jungkook slapped his hand over your lips, marching you in the opposite direction of Career Week, Jimin skipping behind you two, cheerfully humming.

-

part iv

--

masterpost

[barsformars]

Dean's Office

//

g - fluff

p - wooyoung x reader

w.c - 1.2k

t.w - none

c - reader who is not very well liked among the teachers meets wooyoung, their table partner and the complete opposite of them in the teachers' eyes, in the dean's office.

a.n - this has been sitting in my drafts forever i almost forgot to post it because ive been working on requests jdjsjsj

t.l - @closer-stars​ @jeongyunhoed​ @fairyofdusk​

//

seonghwa | hongjoong | yunho | yeosang | san | mingi | wooyoung° | jongho

If there was anyone you would never expect to see sitting in the dean's office, it would be your table partner. Sure, he's can be a little rowdy and annoying at times but apart from that, he's the closest thing to a model student.

"Wooyoung? The hell are you doing here? I thought you were just late for class, like for the first time in your life." Oh, perhaps you should have minded your language a little more. Since, you know, you're in the dean's office.

Wooyoung whipped his head around, as surprised, or maybe even more, to ever see you here. Sure, your grades have always been excellent but apart from that, you're the closest thing to a substitute teacher's worst nightmare. Speaking of substitute teachers, that's exactly why you were called in here. But wait, Wooyoung is speaking.

"Oh, they wanted to thank me for representing the school in that dance competition I went last month-"

Eurgh, they call people in just for that too?"

-along with many other things......" Wooyoung's voice trailed off awkwardly, not wanting to come across as arrogant, though you already knew very well that he was far from that. There was a reason he was one of your favourite people in school.

"Oh." Your eyebrows arched up at his words as you nodded slowly, taking a seat in the chair that he had already pulled out for you. "So where did Mrs Noh go?" You asked, legs crossed and fingers impatiently tapping on the mahogany desk.

"She had to pick up a call," Wooyoung replied, letting out a soft scoff and grin when he saw the way you were sitting. Most people would be too nervous to even breathe in the dean's office but here you were acting like the place was yours. Have you been in here before without him knowing? "I haven't asked but, what are you doing here? I suppose it's not for something praise-worthy?" When you shot him a look that was half out of disbelief and half of ridicule, Wooyoung knew that he shouldn't even have asked. Not that he thought you were a bad person - you weren't - you were just not very well liked by the teachers for, well, many reasons.

"I told the substitute literature teacher that his teaching was worse than eating an unsalted rotten kimchi." You shrugged, you didn't think you had done anything worth being called to the dean's office for. You were just speaking the truth. "What?" Wooyoung stared at you, waiting for you to carry on with your story, knowing that was definitely not everything that went down while he was away from you (he would have made you apologised right away if he was there). "Okay, okay, so then I just stood up and left the class because I couldn't sit in there listening to his rubbish any longer."

"I leave you alone in class for like 15 minutes and shit happens," Wooyoung sighed, shaking his head as he rubbed his temples. "And it was literally only 15 minutes, just what did he say for you to conclude so quickly that he was bad at teaching?"

Before you could start ranting to Wooyoung, the dean opened the door with an apologetic smile directed towards Wooyoung, her wrinkled face shrivelling up even further with displeasure when she noticed that you were there as well.

What would be the better facial expression in response to that? Rolling your eyes, like your natural instincts tell you to, or faking an innocent smile, because that was what Wooyoung would tell you to do? You had no choice but to settle for the latter when Wooyoung nudged your leg, simultaneously telling you to sit properly as well.

You don't even know why you listen to Wooyoung so well. You usually hate it when others tell you to do, but if Wooyoung were to ask you to walk into Louis Vuitton and attempt to steal a $10,000 bag for him, you would. Not that he would ever, but yes, you would, and not even mention his name during interrogation.

"You should spend more time with people like Wooyoung, then maybe you will learn to have some manners!" Mrs Noh criticised, causing you and Wooyoung you exchange knowing looks as the both of you tried your very best to not burst out laughing.

"Good grades mean nothing if your attitude is bad!"

"Yes, ma'am."

After making Wooyoung sit through your scolding and you his mini award ceremony, the dean sent the both of you back to class together. "She said we should spend more time together," Wooyoung giggled, poking at your side as he wiggled his eyebrow.

"Gross, I'm sick from having to see your face everytime I turn to my left when I'm just trying appreciate Yeosang's visuals," you pretended to gag and Wooyoung proceeded to reach for your head to ruffle your hair, purposely annoying you as a punishment for saying that. Maybe you shouldn't have made it seem that you hated Wooyoung doing that, because it was the total opposite. Your heart was already starting to race

."How awkward will it be if you walked back into class right now?" Wooyoung laughed, thinking about how you would still have to sit through another hour of the substitute teacher's class. When you don't send a kick to his butt like you usually would, Wooyoung turned to look at you, slightly concerned.

"Are you that angry just thinking about it? Your face is so red."

Silence.

"Y-"

"Jeong Wooyoung, I like you." You blurted out, completely taking Wooyoung, and yourself, by surprise. Well technically, it wasn't the fact that you had feelings for him that came as a shock to him. It would take an idiot to not see that you were whipped for him, and vice versa. Wooyoung just didn't think that you would ever admit it, because he would never, and you must say, you didn't either.

"That was very abrupt," Wooyoung commented as he stared blankly at the empty corridor behind you. It was, it was. Those five words had completely knocked all the thoughts out of his brain, and suddenly he became very aware of how heavy his arms were from merely hanging from his shoulders. Where should he even place them? Stick them right next to his legs, reach out to hold you (where anyways), or to just leave them be?

Silence.

"Are you not going to say anything else?" Wooyoung asked, unsure of how to continue, or end, this conversation.

"Are you not going to give me a reply?" Oh, right, he hasn't. "I guess we should do what the dean said you should do then. Hang out with me more," Wooyoung said. "And I mean not as friends, by the way."

There comes the kick to his butt. "So do you like me too or what?" Wooyoung let out a sigh of relief, you were back to normal.

"Yes, did you not hear my last sentence?"

"Then say it!"

"Ask for it cutely." Wooyoung stuck his tongue out at you, his arms crossed over his chest. He was already starting to tease you now that he was sure that you had a very soft spot for him.

"Nevermind, I take back my words. I don't like you anymore," you huffed as you walked away, leaving him behind.

"Hey, fine! I like you too! Why are you running away? I'm saying that I like you too!"

[mostlycompetentwriter]

Domesticated

M/F Pairing: Y/N x Bang Chan (Stray Kids) 

Genre: Married Life AU

Warnings: Smut, language, some mentions of cheating (but not with the main pairing)

Word Count: 19,922 (I might break this up later on)

Summary: Marriage was something Y/N had been dreaming about since she was a little girl. But now, ten years later, she’s married to her college sweetheart, but their relationship isn’t entirely perfect. There’s the issue of her new boss, aka her ex-boyfriend Seo Changbin, and Chan’s younger brother Felix who insists on calling her Medusa. Yet, through it all, Y/N is positive she wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

Notes: Y'all are really out here sleeping on husband Bang Chan and I won’t allow it anymore. Because Chan is 100% husband goals.

“Where do you see yourself in five years?”

I slowly exhaled after disregarding my somewhat passable resume, courtesy of one of those sketchy website builders, to look at the interviewer who waited for my response, pen poised over his expensive notebook. I swallowed hard as I struggled to compose myself under pressure. Because there was a professional answer somewhere in the back of my useless brain, but a dozen other responses, far more honest than his expectations, were waiting on the tip of my tongue.

Such as: 

Waiting at home for my husband because all I do is stare at the clock, counting down the minutes until he walks through the door. I kinda miss when we were in college and could see each other sporadically between long lectures, grabbing lunch at the Wendy’s on South Campus. Now, the most exciting thing that happens is the occasional blow job before we pass out on the worn mattress in our master bedroom.

Or

Sometimes Chan will host dinner parties at the house for his expensive doctor friends. He won’t spare me a single glance while I rush to fill glasses with rich-tasting wine, keeping an eye on Han Jisung because he can’t take more than three refills before he’s trying to dismantle the house. I’ll also have to ignore the really old surgeon who Chan admires because he likes to touch my ass when I pass through the living room. Maybe I was suited to be a sugar baby in another life.

Or

On the rare occasion when Chan actually uses his cock, he’ll pant in my ear the entire time because he’s worn out from long hours at the hospital. Chan will cum before me most of the time and I’m lucky if he’s cognizant enough to eat me out so that I can finally fall asleep from my post-orgasmic haze. Heck, I’ll even take his fingers on my clit if it means an assured eight hours of sleep.

Shit, I miss being young.

I cleared my throat, deciding on the professional answer because I highly doubt Seo Enterprises wanted to hire a desperate housewife.

I was sprawled out on the couch in our living room when Chan came home that evening. I barely acknowledged his rushed greeting, watching through narrowed eyes as he ran into the kitchen. “Babe,” came his anticipated whine. “There’s no leftovers?”

“I didn’t feel like cooking,” I said, turning over to bury my face in the throw pillows decorating the cushions. It really wasn’t that comfortable since Chan insisted we get the stiff, fancy leather futon as opposed to the appealing sectional that could actually recline. 

“You didn’t cook?”

Chan’s voice was closer this time but I still ignored him, sensing an impending headache. “I had an interview.”

“That was hours ago,” Chan pouted.

I sighed loudly. “The interview went great, honey, thanks for asking.”

“I’ve been at the hospital since 5 this morning,” Chan went on, weight dipping beneath the couch at the opposite end. “I didn’t even have time for lunch because Jisung almost fucked up a patient’s IV.”

“Remind me again why he still has a job.”

“Because he somehow graduated from nursing school and has a license claiming he’s qualified,” Chan said. “Plus, he’s my friend.”

“You have shit taste in friends,” I said, protesting when his hand landed a firm smack against my ass. 

“Minho tried to wreck the Corvette when he ran out of cigarettes.”

“Minho is loyal.”

“He still wants to fuck you,” Chan grumped. “Ten years after college and he’s trailing after your ass.”

“Darling, you don’t have to be jealous when I’m wearing your ugly ring on my finger 24/7.”

“It was my mother’s!”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Bang Chan,” I snapped while grabbing one of my support pillows from beneath my weight, launching it at my husband’s head. Sadly, Chan dodged at the last minute, much to my chagrin, smirking as he dug his fingers into my sides, forcing loud, high-pitched giggles as we both unceremoniously fell into the spotlessly clean floor. “Channie,” I groaned as he rolled on top of me, pinning my hands above my head before deciding to offer me a sloppy kiss with far too much tongue. “You’re fucking gross,” I said, biting at his lower lip in revenge.

“Yeah? Well, you’re fucking sexy,” Chan purred, nuzzling his head between my breasts. 

“Stop it, you oaf!” I grumbled. “My period starts tomorrow. My tits have been sore all day.”

“Maybe I should have a look,” Chan teased, a free hand working loose one of the buttons on my shirt.

“And what good will that do?”

“Well, I am a doctor.”

“You just want to see my tits so you have something to jerk off to in the shower tonight.”

“Shower with me then,” Chan suggested. “I’ll fuck you against the wall.”

“Will you have the stamina?” I questioned. “You poor thing, how can you get it up when you haven’t eaten all day?”

Chan frowned at my mocking tone. “Are you turning down my cock?”

“You’re only half-hard,” I said, lifting my thigh against the tight bulge of his scrubs.

Chan let out a sigh, but his smile was endearing. “What if I order takeout? Then we can fuck in the shower.”

“Channie,” I cooed. “You always know how to talk dirty to me.”

I stand by my belief that email was now an archaic form of communication, but the number of big businesses that forced their employees to make an account @ their company name was ridiculous. But if I wanted to find a job in this big ass city, then I needed to play by the rules. Surprisingly, my most recent application was progressing with far more success than I could have anticipated, and I had read over the new email from Seo Enterprises at least half a dozen times:

Dear Mrs. Bang,

Thank you for taking the time to interview with our staff yesterday afternoon. After carefully reviewing your file with our CEO, he has asked us to schedule one last consultation. Please let us know your earliest convenience.

“That must be a good thing,” Minho remarked, digging his spoon into my ice cream since his bowl was empty and I wasn’t in the mood to argue with him. 

“I guess,” I said, formulating a quick reply because I really wanted this fancy, high-paying Secretary job. I mean, sitting at home all day was definitely not high on my list of accomplishments.

“What’s the hurry anyway?” Minho asked as he licked his spoon clean. “Bang has enough money that you could just smooch off him for the rest of your life.”

“That’s not fair,” I said. “I want us to be equals.”

“Wasn’t that the point of marrying a doctor, Y/N?” Minho asked. “Otherwise, you could still be screwing around with me.”

“Except we aren’t 18 anymore,” I pointed out, frowning in his direction. “And says the guy who works part-time at his sister’s pet shop.”

“Hey!” Minho protested, shoving his spoon in my face. “I’m helping the strays. Population control and shit.”

“So what? You’re snipping some dog penises, good for you.”

Minho sat back with a disgruntled sigh. “What do you want to do after this?”

“I’ll bring Chan some lunch since he didn’t get a chance to eat yesterday,” I said. “Interested in accompanying an old friend?”

“Not really,” Minho said. “But I don’t have anything better to do.”

I maintained a long list of places that I truly despised and the hospital was number one. I always tried desperately not to let it show when I visited Chan because it wasn’t really his fault. I had a bad history when it came to hospitals and the memories lingered like the permanent smell of alcohol that Chan brought home with him on his scrubs.

“Did you see that guy in the waiting room?” Minho asked after I checked us in at the front desk. “He was seconds away from bleeding out on the floor.”

“Don’t talk about blood,” I shivered, hurrying to the elevator while frantically hitting the corresponding floor number.

“This reminding you of Freshman year?” Minho asked since he was a total airhead and missed out on the memo where I specifically told him to keep his mouth shut about that stupid Frat Party.

“There are five reasons why I hate hospitals,” I said, holding up my hand in front of his stupid face. “Don’t make me spell it out for you.”

“Is Freshman year one of them?”

“Shut the hell up, Minho.”

A quiet chuckle resounded through the empty elevator while I impatiently waited for our stop. “You’re feisty today,” Minho remarked once the doors reopened.

I ignored the nasty linoleum floors, heels clicking with every step I took in the direction of Chan’s office. “I’m eating with Chan and then we’re never coming here again.”

“Agreed,” Minho said, keeping pace with me while cringing at the gurneys being pushed through the hallways at an alarming rate. 

We had almost made it to the end of the floor when I heard a lazy voice call out my name from one of the surrounding rooms. I closed my eyes because I could recognize that voice anywhere since it basically haunted my worst nightmares. He might not know it yet, but Han Jisung was the last person I wanted to run into because maybe, just maybe, he was one of the five reasons why I hated this place.

“Guys!” Jisung gushed, smiling brilliantly. “I’d hug you but I just finished cleaning piss off the floor.”

“Jesus, Han,” I said, wrinkling my nose against the overpowering smell of ammonia. “Is Chan in his office?”

“He was supposed to meet with our new superintendent,” Jisung said, grinning like a complete idiot when he shoved his gloved hands towards Minho who now looked a few beats away from losing his ice cream.

“You’re really pushing your luck today,” Minho growled at him.

“The meeting room is the last room on the right,” Jisung said, finally proving to be useful for once in his life.

I grabbed Minho’s arm because he was close to decking Jisung in the face and I didn’t need the security guards to tell Chan that I let my best friend attack one of his nurses. “Come on,” I said, urging him away from the potential crime scene.

“He’s this close to finding himself with a bloody nose,” Minho complained. “You know what’s funny? I’m pretty sure Han Jisung wouldn’t even know how to help himself.”

“You’re probably right,” I agreed, straightening the collar of my blouse as I peeked in through the tight blinds obscuring the glass wall of the room Jisung had indicated. “There’s Chan...” I started, trailing off when I noticed that he was engrossed in deep conversation with an unfamiliar woman.

“Oh, she’s really hot,” Minho remarked, wincing when I shoved my elbow into his chest.

“Commentary is not necessary,” I said, folding my arms across my chest as I tapped my foot against the floor. Who the hell did this bitch think she was?

“Jealousy isn’t a good look on you,” Minho teased and I swallowed my pride, trying to ignore the way she reached out to touch Chan’s arm.

Thankfully, Chan finally noticed me outside, offering me a cheesy wave which I refused to reciprocate as he said something to the woman. I waited outside the door, attempting my best stern expression even if Chan completely ignored my efforts, encasing me in his powerful arms. “Y/N,” he cooed.

“Chan,” I choked out, struggling against his strength.

Minho snorted at the display. “I’m going to find the cafeteria. Text me when you wanna leave, Y/N.”

I waved him off once Chan eventually released me. I sucked in a few grateful breaths while holding up the takeout bag I had brought. “Is there somewhere we can go?”

Chan nodded, reaching for my hand. “Sorry I took so long, I was meeting with the new superintendent.”

I pursed my lips at that revelation. “She doesn’t look old enough to be a superintendent.”

“She’s around my age,” Chan said and I frowned because that just made everything worse.

The hospital’s staff room was small, the smell of coffee heavy in the air as Chan closed the door behind us. “Nobody should come in.”

“Good,” I said, choosing the only table that looked halfway clean before sitting down with a sigh. “I brought you lunch.”

“Thanks, sweetie,” Chan said, gratefully accepting the bag from me while he sat down on the remaining chair. I glared at him from across the table, watching as he dug into the cheap Japanese like it was his last meal on earth. “Is something wrong?” he asked over a mouthful of noodles. Something college Chan would have never done when we first started dating, but I suppose that’s what you get with marriage.

“I saw you were pretty close with your new superintendent,” I said.

“Oh yeah,” Chan replied cheerfully, stuffing even more food into his impossibly wide mouth. “She’s super smart. Like, Harvard graduate smart.”

“Of course she is,” I murmured. “Do you like her?”

“As a boss I guess,” Chan said, still horribly naive to the real problem. I cathartically drummed my fingernails against the surface of the table. 

“Are you coming home early tonight?” I asked him. “I’ll fix your favorite.”

Chan’s eyes lit up because, despite the food sitting right in front of him, he always got excited at the prospect of another meal. “Really?”

I nodded. “I’ll put the good whiskey on ice.”

Chan sat back with a dramatic groan. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack? Where is all this coming from?”

“I’m just being a good wife,” I said, taking on a dismissive tone.

Chan grinned. “Do you want something, sweetheart? You know I’ll buy you anything.”

“No reason,” I chirped. “I just want you to remember how good am I to you.”

“Of course I know that,” Chan said, reaching across the table to squeeze one of my hands. “I didn’t just marry you for your beautiful face.”

“That’s not what you said when we first met,” I reminded him cheekily, enjoying the way his ears grew red. “Should I do a reenactment?”

“That’s not necessary,” Chan said, quickly dismissing the topic. “Did you hear back from your interview?”

“Oh I did,” I said. “They want me to come in and meet the CEO.”

“What for?” Chan scoffed, returning back to his meal.

“Well, I am taking on the secretary position,” I said. “Maybe he wants to make sure I have good phone etiquette.”

“Yeah?” Chan grumbled. “Or, he wants to make sure you look pretty for him so he has something nice to look at all day.”

“And what’s wrong with that?” I asked him because I loved it when Chan got possessive.

“I don’t want some rich bastard drooling over my wife,” Chan said, chopsticks clenched tightly between his fingers.

“Yeah? Well, it works both ways, you know.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh come on, Chan,” I sighed. “Your superintendent was totally flirting with you.”

Chan put down his chopsticks, eyeing me cluelessly. “No, she wasn’t.”

“Yes, she was,” I immediately countered, reaching down for my purse. “I watched her the entire time.”

“Were you spying on me?” Chan asked with a smirk.

“Minho’s probably waiting for me,” I replied instead, smoothing down my skirt as I stood up from the table.

“Don’t you think that’s too short?” Chan asked, pointing at my lower section as if personally offended.

“Work hard, honey,” I grinned, leaning over the table to peck him once on the lips, offering a cheeky wave on my way out the door.

My palms were sweaty and, despite my repeated attempts to wipe off the nasty residue on my skirt, the condition persisted. Hyperhidrosis, Chan might tell me, nerdy glasses falling down his nose. I grinned at a distant memory, one of the first dates I ever had with Chan. A younger, less confident version of my husband, frantically peeling his suit jacket from his body, complaining about the heat in the restaurant, only to cower moments later when he realized his armpits were totally drenched.

“Mrs. Bang?”

I looked up at the young man bowing in front of me. “Mr. Seo will see you now.”

I nodded, holding my tongue before I let the intern know that he sounded just like a passage from Fifty Shades of Gray. Oh, shit, what if I was about to meet Christian Gray in the flesh? Some sort of young, hot billionaire with the world at his feet, buying up other companies like they meant absolutely nothing.

It was a believable scenario, and I don’t know how I managed to get my feet to work, but I followed the intern with exaggerated steps. “The boss has been looking forward to this,” the intern told me, pausing outside the office door.

“He has?” I wondered, glancing around the grandiose lobby. Did I really make that much of an impression?

“You can go in now,” the intern smiled, politely holding the door for me as I wordlessly walked inside.

Of course, I was expecting something extravagant, considering the layout of the lobby, but I was still deeply impressed by the spacious, but oddly cozy interior. Could you really call this room an office? Considering how massive it was in size. I mean, was it really necessary to basically live in an apartment when you arrived to work every day? Complete with stylish hardwood floors that looked like something out of an edition of House and Home magazine. I’d bet my entire life’s savings that the CEO hired some kind of fancy architect to design the place because those engravings on the mahogany walls were quite difficult to achieve. “It’s nice isn’t it?” a disarmingly familiar voice asked, and I found the dark figure leaning against the desk in the center of the room, sleeves rolled up to show off his impressive arms. “I was surprised to see your application, Y/N.”

Fuck, Christian Grey would have been way better.

“Changbin?”

He met me halfway across the room, now completely visible beneath the low hanging lights, tan skin washed with a comfortable glow. “Shocked?”

“You could say that,” I said, suddenly feeling like I was 18 again in college, lusting after the object of my affections.

“Have a seat,” Changbin offered kindly, extending his arm towards the matching armchairs neatly tucked around the electric fireplace.

“Okay,” I nodded, unable to take my eyes off Seo Changbin as I stumbled over my heels like a complete lovestruck teenager meeting her musician idol for the very first time.

But, holy fuck, Changbin looked good. Why the hell did he not age or turn prematurely gray? I held back a whimper, eyes looking everywhere around the room except at Seo Changbin. How did I not put two and two together when I first got the notification for the Secretary position at Seo Enterprises? I mean, what are the chances that this Seo is my Seo...Or, at least, he used to be my Seo. 

“Y/N,” Changbin said, flipping through my file with lazy movements. Where did he get those pants from? They fit him sinfully good, hugging his thighs and if I look close enough, the outline of his...“How are you?”

I startled at the question, drawing my eyes up to meet Changbin’s familiar gaze. “Oh, I’m uh..” I trailed off anxiously, trying to put meaningful words together because he was making the English language harder than it needed to be. “I’ve been alright.”

Changbin smiled and I crossed my legs because that kind of smile could literally drench a girl if he wasn’t careful. “I was really happy to see your name on my list.”

“Were you?” I asked, fingers digging into the cushion of my chair.

“I’m always happy to see a familiar face,” Changbin said. “It’s been a while.”

“College,” I choked out, completely out of mind with anxiety, like the time Minho stole my phone and made me think someone had stolen it, even encouraging me to call the number only for him to hang up every time.

“You’re still beautiful.”

“Changbin...”

“I know,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s all in the past.”

“That’s right,” I said, wondering if now would be an appropriate time to snatch my resume out of Changbin’s veiny hands and flee the premises.

“And you’ve married Bang,” Changbin said, pointing to my wedding band. “Which isn’t surprising.”

“Five years,” I said, trying my best to think about Chan and only Chan despite the literal embodiment of my every erotic high school fantasy sitting right in front of me.

“This would be strictly professional,” Changbin said, holding up my resume. “You were our best applicant, but I thought you should know everything about this place before taking the position. Including me.”

“Is that so?” was all I could think to say in return to his unexpectedly thoughtful comment.

Changbin lowered my resume slowly. “The job is yours, Y/N.”

“I’d still have to talk to Chan first,” I said because there’s no way I could just start working for Changbin without Chan knowing everything about the situation. Unfortunately, I could just about anticipate Chan’s response.

“That’s fine,” Changbin agreed. “You can call us tomorrow.”

I allowed a shaky nod, wondering if Changbin knew how much of an effect he still had on me all these years later.

Chan might be one of the smartest men I know, but he was, at his core, just a man who was quite whipped for his wife. Like all men, he was a sucker for lingerie, which is why I slipped on my best matching set, squeezing myself in the little black dress that I knew he really loved. 

The hem barely touched the middle of my thighs.

I was also cooking his favorite meal, the smell filling the kitchen pleasantly as I stood at the stove. My plan was quite simple: dress pretty for Chan and surprise him with his favorite food to soften him up. Maybe then he wouldn’t have a complete meltdown when I broke the news to him about my newest employer. 

But I still shivered when I heard the door open. “Y/N!”

“I’m in the kitchen,” I called back to him, attempting several meditative breaths to try and keep myself together.

“Holy shit,” he cursed, freezing in the doorway as he undoubtedly took in the sight of his wife wrapped in a tight black number.

“I’m making dinner,” I said, flashing him an arrogant smile, amused by the way he openly gaped at me while still wearing his oversized doctor’s coat. A result of an excited, freshly employed Chan filling out his form request with sloppy handwriting.

“You look hot,” Chan told me bluntly, eyes glued to my body as he eliminated the space between us with a few quick-paced steps.

“I got the job,” I said, letting out a nervous giggle as I continued to push around the searing bulgogi with a shaky hand. “Consider this a celebration.”

“That’s great, sweetie,” Chan said, standing behind me to wrap his arms around my middle, pressing soft kisses to the back of my neck, roaming hands feeling my body. “I guess the CEO liked you.”

A hellish double entendre. “Yeah, he was really nice.”

“I’m glad it worked out,” Chan said, voice next to my ear. “I didn’t want you to feel pressured to get a job or anything. I’m proud of you no matter what.”

Was it his intention to make me feel guilty? “Channie,” I sighed, turning around in his arms. “I have to tell you something.”

Chan cocked a brow. “What is it?”

“The company I’m working for...” 

“Yeah?”

“The CEO is someone we know.”

“Is that it?” Chan chuckled, accent thick as those adorable dimples filled out his smile. “Who is it, babe?”

“He used to go to school with us,” I tried, hoping that maybe Chan could just learn how to read my mind and save me the effort of mustering some kind of courage.

“Minho?” Chan teased.

“We’re not exactly friendly with him,” I said.

“Well, I don’t know if you’ve been paying attention, but I’m not exactly friendly with Minho.”

“You jerk,” I huffed, half-heartedly pushing against his chest. “You really, really don’t like this person.”

“There aren’t many people I really, really don’t like,” Chan said. “Come on, Y/N, just tell me who it is. Are you afraid I’ll be upset with you?”

I swallowed hard. “Yes.”

Chan’s smile vanished in a minute. “Y/N.”

“Seo Enterprises,” I said. “The company name.”

Realization dawned across Chan’s face. “Are you saying...”

“Changbin,” I murmured, looking down at my feet. “He’s my new boss.”

Chan let out a rough exhale because he knew exactly who Seo Changbin was and I’m pretty sure he associated the name with deep hatred. “Are you fucking serious?”

I winced at Chan’s tone because he had quickly shifted from sweet, caring husband to angry, sinister Mr. Bang in the blink of an eye. “Yes?”

“The Seo Changbin,” Chan reiterated. “The guy you fucked for like six months Freshman year?”

“That would be the one,” I said, forcing myself to meet his gaze before immediately regretting the decision.

“Why the hell would you take a job as his Secretary?” Chan demanded, crossing his arms over his chest. Normally, I would admire the sight of Chan’s arms stretching the thin fabric of his t-shirt, but now I was just intimidated.

“Because I really wanted the job,” I said. “And I didn’t think it was that big of a deal.”

“Oh, it’s a huge fucking deal,” Chan said, glaring down at me. “You think I’m okay with the idea of you working for someone you once told me you were, and I quote, definitely gonna marry?”

“But I’m married to you,” I tried, attempting a sugary-sweet tone that usually broke Chan’s resolve.

Except for tonight.

“Yeah,” Chan nodded, “You are, and I told you I would take care of you. I have enough money to support both of us, you don’t need to work at all.”

“Chan, you know I’m not comfortable sitting at home,” I said.

“I get that, Y/N, but Seo Changbin? I could get you a Secretary job at the hospital.”

“Channie, this is a position at Seo Enterprises. One of their biggest assets is New York Publishers! It’s like the perfect opportunity to get my foot in the door.”

“Y/N,” Chan groaned. “I can’t stand the thought of you working for Changbin under any circumstances.”

“I get it, Chan,” I said. “But it’s different than college. I’m married now, and Changbin is nothing more than my boss.”

“Does he really get that?” Chan asked. “I’m putting my foot down, Y/N. I don’t want you working for him, okay? You can call them tomorrow and say you’ve got something better.”

“But Channie!”

“No, Y/N,” Chan growled. “You can look for something else.”

I frowned once I realized Chan wasn’t going to back down. It didn’t matter that I wanted the job or that I had dressed up and cooked for him. For the first time since we met, Chan was refusing to give me what I wanted. “Chan, you really don’t have the right to tell me what to do.���

“I’m your husband,” Chan said, justifying his unfair demands with such patriarchal reasoning. 

“Fine,” I muttered darkly, ignoring the way his hand reached out for mine.

“Don’t be this way,” Chan said, following me as I marched to our bedroom, slamming the door closed behind me. “Y/N!” Chan shouted against the door, knocking loudly on the wood. “This is my room too!”

“Not tonight,” I informed him tersely, opening the door only to harshly shove a spare blanket and pillow at his chest. “Goodnight, darling.”

“This is Y/N,” I said into the phone. “I’m calling about-”

“One moment, Mrs. Bang, we can transfer you to Mr. Seo right away.”

“But you don’t understand...”

“Hello?”

“Changbin!” I squealed loudly into the phone, wincing at my shrill tone. 

“Y/N,” Changbin said pleasantly, voice as deep and gravelly as I remembered. “Is this the phone call I’ve been waiting for?”

“I’m not sure,” I said, making myself comfortable at the kitchen counter since I was a notorious pacer when it came to difficult conversations. “It depends on what you’re expecting.”

“I’m expecting to hear a confirmation,” Changbin said. “This is a perfect position for someone with your qualifications.”

“I know,” I groaned. “But I’m calling because I can’t take the job.”

“Really?” Changbin asked. “Can I ask why?”

“Chan isn’t comfortable with the idea,” I said.

“Is that so?” Changbin inquired, innocently enough. “I hope it isn’t because of college.”

“T-that’s not entirely why,” I stuttered because Changbin was apparently intuitive now that he owned some big, fancy company.

“I hope not,” Changbin said. “It wouldn’t be fair of Chan to keep you from a potential opportunity because of something like that.”

“It’s just a lot right now,” I said. “I haven’t had a job in a year. My last position was really good, but the company went bankrupt and I was laid off, so I’m just trying to be careful.”

“You wouldn’t have to worry about anything like that here, Y/N,” Changbin said. “This is a great opportunity for someone looking for a fresh start.”

Did he read my Facebook bio?

“I’m sure it is, Changbin, but I can’t do something that would make Chan uncomfortable.”

“But he’s not the one taking the position,” Changbin pointed out. “I can assure you, Y/N, you won’t find another position like this.”

“God, you’re good at negotiating.”

“Take the job, Y/N. I promise you won’t regret it.”

I could blame it on my desperation later, but I actually really liked the position. It promised a lot, especially considering the publishing company attached to Seo Enterprises. That would be my ultimate goal, to spend my days reading promising manuscripts while sipping expensive Starbucks coffee.

“I guess I can’t say no.”

“Then I’ll see you on Monday.”

Message to Channie

I took the job. I’m sorry but the opportunity was hard to pass up.

It only took a few seconds for Chan’s contact name to flash across my screen with an incoming call. I muted the sound like a coward, ignoring him completely while I started the ignition to the Corvette. A one-year anniversary present from Chan who was somehow more excited than I was when he first handed me the car key.

I drove to Minho’s apartment because I didn’t want to go home and I really had nowhere else to go. Plus, at least Minho was a reliable friend who really didn’t care if I crashed on his couch while he shoved cheap wine down my throat. In fact, Minho might be glad to see me since he was constantly complaining about his new hours at the shop.

“You look like shit,” Minho commented when he answered the door, standing aside to invite me inside. I shrugged off my coat, tossing it against the wall before slumping down onto the cheap sofa in Minho’s living room. The only piece of furniture he could afford in his ridiculously small New York apartment. “What happened?”

“I took the job with Changbin.”

Minho’s eyes widened in surprise. “You did? I can only assume Chan is lying somewhere on his deathbed.”

“No,” I snorted. “I took the job even though Chan asked me not to.”

“Savage,” Minho exhaled and I rolled my eyes at him.

“It’s a great opportunity!”

“When do you start?” Minho asked, feet propped up in my lap as he made himself more than comfortable next to me.

“Monday morning,” I said, mindlessly taking the remote to scroll through his limited TV channels. 

“And Chan is mad?” Minho repeated, glancing at me for confirmation. “Can you really blame him though?”

“Why?” I frowned.

“I mean, Chan’s been in love with you since high school. He used to trail after you all the time, but you only talked about Seo Changbin.”

“You’re not being a good friend right now,” I said, remembering with perfect clarity the image of a sixteen-year-old Chan, hair untamed and clothes mismatched. Chan was a constant presence in my life, even if I preened after another boy who certainly had no intention of remaining faithful.

“Go home to him, Y/N,” Minho said with far more seriousness than I was used to hearing from my still immature best friend. The same Minho who couldn’t find work for an entire year after graduation because he was too busy sleeping with any woman that walked on two legs, living with various girlfriends while slowly draining his savings account.

“Since when are you the voice of reason?” I grumbled.

“Well, we all have to grow up one day.”

I hated the rare occasions when he was right.

The house was eerily silent when I unlocked the door, spotlessly clean just as I had left it which made me feel bad because it meant Chan didn’t even try to eat anything. “You always make me worry,” I muttered, toeing off my shoes as I decided to check the bedroom. 

When Chan had first bought the house, he wanted it to look as close as possible to the random design I had pointed out at the local fair when we were Sophomore students. The plaque had deemed it the “house of the future” and I was enamored with the idea of the future back when my whole life was waiting right in front of me. A big dreamer who was already making wedding plans the moment Chan got down on one knee and proposed with his mother’s wedding ring.

“Channie,” I whispered into the darkness, cautiously tiptoeing my way to the side of the bed where Chan was facing away from me, sheets tucked in around his waist to leave his chest exposed. “I’m sorry.”

Chan let out a sigh. “What are you sorry for, Y/N?”

“I hurt you,” I said, choosing my words carefully. “I took the job with Changbin and I didn’t think about how it would affect you.”

“I fucking hate him,” Chan said, tone bitter and laced with venom. “I hate what he did to you Freshman year and I hate that he was the first person you loved.”

“Chan,” I sighed, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “I was really young and stupid back then. I should have never slept with Changbin. But he was just a fantasy, even when we were together, and I certainly never really loved him.” I leaned in closer, brushing his hair away from his forehead. “I’ve always loved you first. You mean the world to me and I’m sorry that I went behind your back to work for Changbin. But he’s definitely nothing more than a mistake from a past full of them. There’s nothing to worry about.”

Chan shifted from next to me, rolling onto his back. His eyes were looking at me like I was literally his entire world. “I’ll always worry, sweetie. You drive me insane these days.”

I grinned at the use of his pet name for me, reaching out to run a soothing hand along the defined lines of his stomach. “Don’t worry about me, darling, when you’re the one with a supermodel for a boss.”

“Fuck, we’re both screwed,” Chan said. “Does she drive you mad with jealousy?”

“Of course she does,” I said. “She has bigger tits than me.”

“Well, I like your tits,” Chan insisted. “Don’t even think about bringing up plastic surgery again.”

“It would be to your benefit,” I pointed out. 

“And the detriment to my savings account. Plus, I don’t want some old bastard fondling your tits while he pumps silicone in your chest.”

“Of all the things to worry about,” I sighed. “Does this mean we’re okay again?”

“You could probably step on me and I would still thank you for it, sweetie.”

“What if I sit on it instead?” I asked, moving my hand down to squeeze his flaccid cock.

“Makeup sex?” Chan gasped. “You don’t have to sell yourself out like this, babe.”

“Yeah? Well, I want to,” I said while proceeding to straddle his waist, smirking when Chan’s hands instantly moved to my hips. It was almost like a magnet, the reaction automatic after years of marriage. “You’re already hard,” I teased, reaching back to palm him over the sheets. 

Chan always slept in boxers which I certainly appreciated because it made the rare nights of our passionate lovemaking even more accessible. Chan lifted my shirt, groaning low when he saw that I was wearing nothing but a pair of satin panties. “This is why I’m already hard.”

“You don’t see me walking around the house in underwear,” I quipped playfully.

“It’s comfortable,” Chan whimpered, moaning when my hand found the smooth velvety head of his cock. 

“Something you never did when we were dating,” I said. “I spent weekends with you in the apartment.”

“Wanted to make a good impression,” Chan grumbled, eyes closed as he rolled his hips in time with my careful strokes. 

“So you don’t have to impress me anymore,” I said, glancing back at his cock, hot and heavy in my hand. “But I guess you still do.”

Chan moaned even louder at my words, fingers tightening in my wrinkled shirt. “Don’t make me cum yet.”

“Why not, darling?” I asked him cheekily, twisting my wrist just right, watching as a stuttered gasp fell from between his gorgeous pout.

“Wanna cum inside,” he said, biceps straining as he pulled me closer, kissing me with a desperation that only demonstrated just how gone he really was.

“Yeah?” I smirked, tongue tracing the ridges of his full lips. “I guess you deserve it after putting up with my bullshit all day.”

Chan nodded fervently and the sight was oddly endearing. It reminded me of when Chan and I first met in high school, a nerdy sixteen-year-old boy who had just transferred schools all the way from Australia. He had a thick accent, foreign and rich, just like the untamed mass of curls covering his deep brown eyes. Chan wore thick-rimmed glasses and he had a light dusting of freckles like the main character from Freckle Juice, one of my favorite childhood novels. He was nerdy and shy, sitting alone in the cafeteria at lunch and walking between classes with his shoulders hunched like he was afraid one of those horrible jocks would try to steal his bag again.

“Y/N!” he whined loudly, forcing me out of the memory.

“Alright, Channie, you want inside?”

I sat up on my knees to work down my panties, ignoring the way Chan’s fingers tried to interfere, pulling at the fabric like he could possibly make them disappear any faster. I grabbed the hem of his boxer shorts, teasingly pulling them down his thighs before brushing a kiss across the weeping tip of his cock, precum bitter on my tongue. For a moment, I admired his thick erection, remembering how nervous Chan was the very first time we had sex back before we were even old enough to drink alcohol.

I held his cock as I positioned myself over his lap. “I’ll do all the work tonight,” I said, listening to Chan’s sweet moans the entire time I slowly lowered myself onto his cock, enjoying the way he always filled me so deeply.

“Oh yeah, sweetie,” Chan grunted, hips moving messily as he tried to find a rhythm. “I’m gonna make you feel so good.”

 “Really?” I asked, swallowing down a moan when Chan hit just right, movements growing more and more confident as I returned every thrust. “I thought I was in charge tonight.”

Chan’s hands gripped my waist firmly, eyes wide open as he focused on where we were connected. “I’m always in charge.”

“Definitely,” I said, bracing my hands against his firm chest for balance because I was weak for this version of Chan. A complete contradiction to the one I first started dating, sweetly doting as he did everything in his power to make me happy. An image of a beautifully innocent Chan looking up from his position between my thighs. “It’s good?”

“So good,” I whispered aloud, peppering kisses across the pale expanse of Chan’s creamy skin, laving my tongue against a sensitive nipple which forced a temporary break from his regular tempo.

“Don’t play dirty, sweetie,” Chan said, giving me no warning before he was pushing me onto my back, hovering over me with his irresistible bedroom eyes. His hands spread my thighs wide, giving himself more room to fuck inside, movements growing faster with every step closer to what was beginning to feel like an intense orgasm. I’m talking about the kind that I could feel between my legs for days after I tried to walk straight again. “Do I need to touch you?”

“Fuck, I think you’re doing just fine,” I said. “Where the hell did this come from?”

“You woke up my competitive side,” Chan said, hitting deep like we were suddenly 20-years-old again sneaking quickies between lectures. Back then, Chan could literally fuck me against a wall, my legs wrapped around his gorgeous hips while he knocked the breath out of my lungs. Thank god, Chan decided that college would be his glory years, working out aggressively in the gym until he had muscles filling out the places where he had previously been soft. But I would always miss his pudgy stomach, even if his ass was now something out of a porn magazine. 

“Well fuck,” I moaned. “I’ll have to do this more often.”

“I’d do it all the time if I wasn’t working until 3 in the morning at the hospital,” Chan said.

“Good point, should I come in at lunch then? You can lock us in one of the empty rooms.”

“Oh shit, sweetie, you shouldn’t talk that way,” Chan growled and it was one of the sexiest sounds I had ever heard.

“I’m close,” I warned him, digging my fingers in his scalp as his teeth teased against my collarbone.

“Me too,” he said, breaths uneven as he punctuated his words with a series of harsh ruts that sent my eyes rolling into the back of my skull. His fingers found my clit, thumb pressing down hard enough to trigger one of the best orgasms I had experienced in a long time.

I tightened around his stuttering cock, moaning when I could feel his cum deep inside, warm and wet. “Shit, you’re so good at that.”

Chan pulled out slowly, eyes growing wide at the sight of his cum leaking down my ass. “Left a fucking mess though.”

“We can shower later,” I said, grabbing his arm to encourage him to lie down next to me, burying my face against his chest, scarlet-red from the exertion.

“Was the dick that good?” Chan teased, running his fingers soothingly along my spine.

“Your dick is that good,” I replied. “The genetics are strong.”

“I’ll be sure to tell my parents,” Chan said, giggling as I shot him a warning glare. “I love you, sweetie.”

“Mmm, I love you more.”

1 Week Later

Lee Felix is the spawn of the devil and nobody could convince me otherwise. Because ever since we first met, when Chan invited me over to his house for a project, Felix had decided that I was his number one enemy, deeming me “Medusa” because he was enamored with Greek Mythology. But the unfortunate nickname had stuck throughout the years, even when Felix visited our college between breaks, forcing me to sleep on the couch while he shared the bed with his step-brother. 

Recently, Felix had just finished his Master’s program for some kind of fancy Philosophy degree that would probably do him absolutely no good in the real world. But Chan was proud of his baby brother, inviting him to stay with us after graduation until Felix could stand on his own two feet. The decision was met by my instantaneous protest leading to an argument that I inevitably lost because Chan was still using Changbin as a winning point. However, even before my employment with Seo Enterprises, Felix was the cause of at least 95% of our arguments and I was not exaggerating in the slightest.

The sound of the doorbell ringing was suddenly a lot louder than I remember. “Death is here,” I said solemnly, ignoring the way Chan scoffed at my claim. I followed behind him somberly as he opened the door, letting out an excited cheer when he saw Felix waiting on the other side. Felix dropped his bag and practically screamed, which would likely wake up the entire neighborhood, jumping into his brother’s arm as the two embraced right in the middle of my foyer. 

“Could you be any louder?” I snarled at the younger Bang. 

“Maybe I could, Medusa,” Felix shot back, eyes narrowed as he picked up his bag. 

“Come on, Felix,” Chan said, nodding at the kitchen. “I bet you’re hungry.”

Felix nodded, putting on his best smile for his ignorant brother, shoving his bag harshly at my chest as he walked by. “You can take care of that for me, right Medusa?”

“You little bitch,” I muttered, meeting his glare with one of my own.

The only thing worse than going out with Felix was including Han Jisung in the equation. For whatever reason, Jisung and Felix always riled each other up, chugging down alcohol like it was fucking water or something. However, Felix wanted to see Jisung again and Chan never said no to his little brother. This is why I was currently seated next to Chan at a cheesy bar in downtown Harlem, listening to Felix and Jisung try to talk over one another as Chan looked on with fond eyes. The only good part of the night was the fact that even Chan had allowed himself to get a little tipsy which meant he was doing his absolute best to feel me up in public. I always found it amusing, knocking his hand away when his eager fingers started to trail up my skirt.

“Felix,” Jisung whined. “How can you say that?”

“Oi, there’s no way you can put Nickleback and Green Day in the same fucking category.”

I rolled my eyes at the stupid argument, smacking Chan’s hand when he started to finger the waistband of my skirt. “Chan!” Jisung pouted. “Tell him that he’s wrong.”

“Tell the philosophy major that he’s wrong?” Chan asked, accent on full display as he reached out to playfully ruffle Felix’s hair. “You can’t even answer the phone at the receptionist’s desk.”

Felix loved the attention and I hated it when he came over only to occupy Chan’s every waking hour with his never-ending thirst for affection. But I wasn’t going to let him get away with it tonight. I cleared my throat, stretching my arms back behind my head because I knew how good it would make my breasts look in the rather low-cut shirt I had chosen for tonight’s affair. I glanced over at Chan, smiling victoriously when I saw the way his eyes had glued themselves to my chest. Even Han Jisung was looking, which would normally annoy me to no end, but I was putting on my best behavior tonight. “Chan!” Felix shouted, trying to regain his brother’s attention. “Did you hear that I scored the highest honors on my research project?”

And just like that, Chan’s attention was redirected to Satan, eyes glowing with pride. “That’s amazing, Felix!”

“I can tell you all about it,” Felix said arrogantly, tossing me a cocky smile which left me absolutely incensed. “The board was so impressed, they offered to publish my results in the University’s magazine.”

“Are you serious, Felix?” Jisung asked which was an even bigger blow because the only two things occupying Jisung’s thoughts were women and alcohol. 

So I decided to push my luck, tugging down my skirt before shifting over in the booth to plant myself directly on Chan’s lap, wrapping my arms around his neck before nuzzling into his warm chest. “Channie,” I cooed while glaring at Felix from the corner of my eye. 

“Do you want something, sweetie?” Chan asked, smile blinding as one hand wrapped around my waist, leaving the other to tease the bare skin of my thighs. 

I reached for Chan’s beer, shoving the glass at him because nothing made Chan hornier than thighs and alcohol. “Should I come to see you at work tomorrow? Like we talked about before?”

Chan’s eyes lit with recognition and I smirked victoriously when I felt him grow hard in his tight jeans. “I’d really like that.”

And to seal my victory, I leaned forward to kiss my intoxicated husband, ignoring the sloppy way he reciprocated, breath musty with the taste of beer. Felix growled lowly from across the booth and Jisung let out a wolf whistle at our blatant display. But I was on cloud nine, satisfied to have won Chan’s attention because it meant Felix was going to be quite unhappy for the rest of the night.

“Medusa, aren’t you going to make me breakfast?”

I groaned as I glanced over at the alarm clock which informed me that it was only 9:00 AM. “Fuck, Felix, go back to sleep.”

“But I’m hungry,” he whined, reaching across the bed to tug on my arm.

“It’s Saturday,” I hissed, barely clinging to the wonderful promise of more sleep which would do wonders for my hungover state.

“Chan wouldn’t be happy with you,” Felix reminded me. “Should I call him at work?”

“Get out of here you little maggot,” I snapped. “I’ll fix you some damn breakfast.”

“Now!” Felix ordered like he had every right to make demands of me, but I didn’t want Felix to say anything to Chan because that would only lead to another needless argument. 

“You’re a fucking menace,” I said, throwing off my bedsheets while briefly mourning the loss of my precious sleep. But I don’t want anyone to ever say that I was a bad wife, especially when I put up with Lee Felix just to make Chan happy. 

Felix was already seated at the counter when I finally drug myself out of my bedroom, groggily reaching for a clean pan from the cabinet. “You get eggs and bacon,” I told him. “I’m not a gourmet chef.”

“Whatever,” Felix said, ignoring me completely in exchange for his cell phone. Which Chan was now paying for to help “lessen Felix’s financial burden.” 

“Chan,” I remember telling him. “You’ll spoil him if you keep doing things like that. He’ll never want to leave!”

“What’s wrong with that?” Chan had shot back as if the idea of living with his younger brother for the rest of our married life was perfectly acceptable.

“A million things,” I muttered now, cracking one of the eggs against the side of the pan. 

“I hear you’re working for Seo Changbin,” Felix abruptly spoke up, and I could practically feel his eyes on me. “He cheated on you, right?”

“It’s really none of your business,” I informed him brusquely, grabbing a spatula while wondering if I could teach Felix a lesson if I hit him a few times.

“My brother isn’t happy,” Felix continued as if my warning meant nothing to him. Probably because it didn’t. “I think it’s a bad idea, but your satisfaction always comes first, right?”

“Why the fuck did Chan tell you this?” I gritted out while aggressively slamming the fridge closed, pack of bacon gripped tightly in my hand.

“He tells me everything,” Felix said smartly. “Because he trusts me.”

“Good for you,” I huffed over my shoulder. “I’m glad you have such a close relationship with your brother.”

“Jealous?” Felix taunted, expression smug when I roughly placed down a glass in front of him.

“Is orange juice, okay?” I asked him in a faux sweet voice.

“It’s fine,” Felix shrugged. “But whatever is most inconvenient for you.”

“What a sweet little boy you are,” I said, pouring him a generous amount. “How long do you plan on staying here?”

“Chan says I can stay for as long as I want,” Felix said, narrowing his eyes. “You don’t have a problem with that, do you?”

“Of course not,” I muttered. “Two Bangs are better than one.”

“That’s right,” Felix said brightly, taking a sip from his glass. “Ugh, does this have pulp in it?”

“Drink your fucking orange juice, Felix!”

The invention of video games was a godsend because they could occupy Felix’s attention for hours, leaving me in relative peace as I tried not to let him destroy every last bit of my resolve. I was currently having a bath alone in the sanctity of my bathroom, shoulder-deep in soothing bath salts which I kept well-stocked in the cabinet underneath the sink. The aroma was pleasant, sending me to a place somewhere far away to where Felix’s were strictly prohibited.

For the entirety of the day, Felix had been doing his best to get on my nerves. I cooked him breakfast and lunch, cleaned his disgusting laundry, and even held my tongue when he requested I drive him to the mattress store because the guest bedroom was unsatisfactory. But it had always been like this between us, ever since the day I first met Felix and tried my best to make a good impression. Unfortunately, Felix idolized his older brother, deeming any girl unworthy of his time and efforts, including myself. Of course, above anyone else, Felix thought I was the worst possible choice, reminding me every second that his brother deserved someone smarter, richer, and prettier. 

Suddenly, my phone vibrated loudly on the edge of the bathtub and I hesitantly glanced at the screen, half-expecting to see Felix’s name displayed like a caution sign. Surprisingly, it was Chan who had sent me a message to ask where I was, which meant Felix had lied through his teeth and said I’d gone somewhere. 

To Channie

Bathroom.

It was only a moment or two later when the door opened and Chan stuck his head inside, offering me a pleasant smile as he locked the door behind him. “You’re home early,” I remarked, vacantly staring up at the ceiling.

“It’s Saturday night,” Chan reminded me. “I thought the three of us could go out to eat.”

I groaned in protest. “What about takeout?”

“You love going out,” Chan said. “I’ll even let you pick the restaurant.”

“I have way too many problems right now,” I said. “I’m avoiding them by staying in the water for as long as I can.”

“Sweetie,” Chan said, taking a step closer. “You should’ve waited for me.”

“Why?” I asked him airily. “You’re one of those problems.”

“Me?” Chan asked, choosing to sit down on the edge of the tub. “What did I do wrong?”

“No arguments tonight,” I said, letting out a deep sigh. “This is the most relaxed I’ve been all day.”

“Aren’t you being overdramatic?” Chan asked, reaching down to flick a trail of water in my direction. “I was in surgery for 6 hours today.”

“Yeah? Well, I’ve dealt with Felix since 9 this morning.”

“Ah,” Chan sighed. “I figured it had something to do with my brother.”

“Just forget it,” I whined. “You know we don’t get along.”

“I do know that,” Chan said. “But I wish you both made a better effort. We’re family after all.”

I shivered at the idea of Felix belonging to any family of mine. “You can keep him on your side, then. I grew up as an only child, look at how much better I turned out for it.”

“You told me you had imaginary friends growing up because you were so lonely,” Chan teased.

“Asshole,” I muttered. “That’s sensitive information that I told you in confidentiality. You should know all about patient-doctor confidentiality. Didn’t you have a whole lecture on it?”

“Y/N,” Chan lightly chastised, reaching for a towel on the rack next to the counter. “Get dressed, we’re leaving in an hour.”

“You’ve condemned me to death,” I complained, watching through lidded eyes as he stretched out his arms.

“I’m serious, Y/N, at least try to get along for my sake.”

“That’s all I ever do,” I muttered to his retreating form.

Hwang Hyunjin is a willing accomplice to the devil himself who never misses an opportunity to throw out some lascivious comments about my appearance. He was Felix’s best friend and partner in crime, sharing his goal of making my life as miserable as possible. He was also coming out to eat with us tonight and no matter how much I whined to Chan, he remained adamant that Felix should spend some time with his friends. “He’s only young once,” Chan told me, ignoring the way I glared at him with every ounce of hostility that I could muster.

“Did you paint those pants on, Y/N?” Hyunjin asked the minute he sat down in the backseat next to Felix.

“I did, actually, thanks for the unnecessary observation,” I told him shortly, still focused on the staring contest I was having with Felix in the rearview mirror.

“Don’t mind her, she’s probably on her period,” Felix said and I took in a deep breath because I was very close to turning around in my seat to choke the life out of Felix’s pencil neck.

“How have you been, Hyunjin?” Chan asked, one hand on the steering wheel as he calmly navigated us through the permanent traffic of New York.

“I applied for a job with Amazon,” Hyunjin replied. “I don’t wanna brag, but I definitely nailed the interview.”

“Yeah right,” I muttered under my breath. Hyunjin had the worst people skills in the history of mankind. He was almost as incompetent as Han Jisung, but ten times worse because of his sarcastic attitude.

“You’ll get me Amazon Prime for free, right bro?” Felix giggled and I resisted the urge to mock the sound.

“I’m proud of you, Hyunjin,” Chan said. “I know you worked hard.”

“It wasn’t a big deal,” Hyunjin said. “But the chick who interviewed me was really hot and I think I appropriately swept her off her feet.”

“Big tits?” Felix asked because that’s all those stupid boys cared about.

“Of course,” Hyunjin said. “But I’m still waiting for you, Y/N, whenever you’re ready.”

Felix scoffed. “You could do better than Medusa.”

“How about some music?” I snapped loudly, reaching down for the radio knob to block out the sounds of Felix and Hyunjin’s voices.

Monday mornings were the worst thing to ever happen to mankind next to Lee Felix. I was sipping at my morning coffee, cold now because Felix had spent way too much time ordering me around the kitchen before I left home. But it was better than nothing and I desperately needed caffeine to get through the day. “Morning, Y/N,” Changbin greeted me smoothly, suit well-pressed and fitted to hug his arms and thighs just right.

“Sure,” I said in reply, trudging to my chair in slow motion. 

“Are you always this lively in the mornings?” Changbin remarked, leaning against my desk as he looked through his mail.

“Just on Mondays,” I said, booting up my computer so that I could answer the dozens of emails likely waiting for me, most of which would come from annoying sponsors who wanted Changbin to be on their dumb podcast. 

“Well, you still look gorgeous,” Changbin said.

My cheeks flushed at his comment. “You still need to call Mr. Kim back, he’s left another voicemail.”

“Just one call?” Changbin smirked, eyes dancing dangerously. “Have you been scaring everyone off, Y/N?”

“I did just as you asked, sir.”

“You don’t have to call me sir,” Changbin chuckled, carefully engrossed in his cell phone now as he graciously returned to his own office.

I shivered as I glanced at my computer screen. Changbin was still as notoriously flirtatious as he had been when we were younger. In fact, it might be worse now that he had finally grown into his sharper features which made him look ridiculously attractive. “I love Chan, I love Chan,” I quietly repeated to myself, even as a distant memory suddenly forced itself back into consciousness.

An 18-year-old Seo Changbin walking inside my lecture hall wearing a dark button-up tucked into the tightest pair of skinny jeans he probably owned. Every eye in that lecture room had suddenly turned to him because he was an irresistible force, impossible to ignore. “Y/N?” 

Be cool Y/N, I softly chastised myself as I offered him a friendly smile. “Hi, Changbin.”

It was purely coincidental that Changbin had ended up at the same University as me, but that didn’t stop my fragile teenage heart from declaring it as something akin to fate. “It’s been a while,” Changbin said, pulling out the chair next to mine.

I swallowed hard because my mouth was as dry as a desert. “I didn’t know you were enrolled here.”

“It was my first pick,” Changbin said. “My father is an alumnus.”

“Really?” I asked, ignoring the arrival of the professor in exchange for mapping out every single one of Changbin’s gorgeous features.

“This class is just for gen ed,” Changbin said, pushing a hand through his neatly styled black hair.

“Oh, same for me,” I nodded. “I heard it was pretty easy.”

“Is that right?” Changbin asked while flashing me an award-winning smile. Roll out the red carpets because this boy was cool enough to be in an action film co-starring Tom Holland and Ancel Elgort.

But what were we talking about? “I’m majoring in English.”

“Political Science,” Changbin returned. “And Business.”

I deflated a little because, in comparison to my lousy arts degree, Changbin seemed like a certified genius. He would be educated in the art of entrepreneurship and big money while I struggled to comprehend the meaning of Great Expectations. “Have you met anyone else from high school?”

“Not yet,” Changbin said. “What about you?”

“Well, Bang Chan’s enrolled here too...” I started, only to trail off when I realized that Changbin probably had no idea who Chan was since he never paid attention to him in high school. Actually, Changbin would have been more likely to join the football jocks who liked to steal Chan’s stuff only to tie his underwear to the flagpole outside the gym.

“The nerdy Australian kid?” Changbin chuckled. “That sucks.”

“Oh,” was all I could manage since Changbin obviously didn’t know that Chan and I were friends. 

“You don’t hang out with him, do you?” Changbin asked, peering at me closely like I was seconds away from losing the honor of his company.

“We have lunch sometimes,” I said, which was only partially true since I did like to meet up with Chan in the dining hall around 2:00 because it was never crowded. But Changbin didn’t need to know that I had spent the night in Chan’s apartment listening to him record one of his mixtapes because Chan had a newfound interest in music. 

“You could do better,” Changbin sighed. “Hang out with me instead. I’ll treat you to the nicest fast food joint on campus.”

My heart was racing, palms clammy as I nodded my head rapidly. “Lunch?”

“Whatever you want, love,” Changbin said, close proximity knocking every rational thought clean out of my head.

It was like my best fantasy coming to life right before my very eyes, and after our lecture ended I asked Changbin to wait for me while I made a phone call to Chan. “Y/N!” came his cheerful voice from the other end. “Guess who got to dissect a liver today?”

I wrinkled my nose at the nasty image. Chan was studying to enter the medical program which meant a lot of his daily life centered around the human body and all sorts of things that could go wrong with it. “Chan,” I whined. “You’re talking to someone who can’t stand the sight of blood.”

“I know,” Chan sniggered. “Does this mean you’re not gonna want to eat lunch with me today? You know I’ll pay, of course, I got a raise at the cafe.”

“Well,” I started, desperately searching for the right words. “I actually have to meet with my professor for this essay I’ve been having trouble with.”

“No problem,” Chan said. “I’ll bring you takeout for dinner. Doesn’t your roommate have practice tonight?”

I glanced back at Changbin with a guilty conscience. Why did Chan have to be so sweet all the time? “Yeah, that’s fine.”

“No liver talk, I promise,” Chan giggled and I hung up the phone before he could make me feel even worse than I already did.

“You want to get some lunch?” Changbin asked with his hands dug inside his pockets as he stood in front of my desk.

“Like, with me?” I asked warily because I wasn’t sure where the line stood on professionalism when it involves eating with an ex-boyfriend.

“Who else?” Changbin said. “I figured we could use a break from the phone calls.”

“I don’t know...” I answered hesitantly because Chan would probably lose his shit if he discovered I went out anywhere with Changbin.

“It’s not a big deal, Y/N,” Changbin said. “My job is to make sure my employees are well taken care of.”

“I guess,” I sighed, reaching down for my purse on the floor. “One lunch together won’t hurt anything.”

But Changbin seemed awfully smug, patiently waiting for me to gather my belongings, stuffing my phone with an unanswered text from Chan inside my side pocket. It’s almost like the universe was conspiring against me, doing its very best to try and force me into the worst situations possible. Here’s an irrational thought: what if Chan happened to decide to go out for lunch today? He might find me with Changbin and I couldn’t think of a worse scenario. Of course, I suppose it doesn’t necessarily have to be Chan who finds us. For example, if his younger step-brother was to suddenly wander in the building at this very moment...

“Medusa!”

Curse you, universe!

“Felix?” 

“I brought us lunch!” Felix chirped brightly, holding up a picnic basket as he waltzed right up to my desk with far more confidence than necessary.

I blinked my eyes rapidly, unable to process the idea that Felix was standing in the middle of the company’s lobby. “Is it poisoned?” I asked, trying not to alert him to any possible wrongdoing.

Felix ignored me, turning around to face Changbin with a critical gaze. “Seo? Is that you?”

“Felix,” Changbin acknowledged, frowning as if he was the last person on earth he wanted to see, and I could share the sentiment.

“Fuck,” Felix cursed, taking a step back. “You still look really young. I was surprised when Y/N told me you were her new boss.”

“I didn’t tell you that,” I said, opening the flaps of the basket only to let out a disgruntled sigh when I realized he had only brought a bag of chips and a tray of cookies.

“And what are you doing these days?” Changbin asked.

“Freelance work, mostly,” Felix replied as if he really needed to lie to Changbin about his lack of a suitable occupation.

“I forgot what you majored in,” Changbin said. “It was hard to keep up since you changed your concentration like a dozen times.”

I couldn’t hold back my laugh, even when Felix sneered in my direction. “Philosophy.”

“Interesting,” Changbin said, nodding his head. “I’m actually surprised to hear that. You never settled on anything.”

Seo Changbin needed to be careful because his charm points were dramatically increasing the more he mocked my husband’s step-brother. “I actually just finished my Masters.”

“Really?” Changbin said. “This coming from the same boy who used to party with Hwang Hyunjin at all the Fraternities, even if they were on a different campus.”

“It was just Freshman year,” Felix defended himself. 

“Well,” Changbin started, “I’m glad to hear about your graduation. Y/N and I were actually just about to head out to lunch.”

I winced at his words, withering under Felix’s accusing watch. “Is that so?”

Changbin carefully studied the two of us. “I’ll be waiting in my car, Y/N.”

I grabbed my bag while pushing the picnic basket back in Felix’s direction. “I swear to god if you tell Chan about this, I’ll castrate you in your sleep.”

“We’ll see about that,” Felix growled, and that was the moment I realized that I was treading very dangerous waters.

Changbin drove us to a charming restaurant about two blocks away from the main company building. He pulled right up to the sidewalk, handing his keys to the waiting carhop as if he had done this about a thousand times. But I guess that was pretty likely considering just how well-off he was ten years later. “Impressive,” I remarked to him, reluctantly accepting his outstretched hand as he helped me out of his car.

“Yeah?” Changbin said, offering me a wink. “Maybe I’m trying to impress you.”

“You’re a dangerous man, Seo Changbin,” I told him, bowing slightly to the waiting doorman who kindly ushered us inside.

This was why the pretty girls always lusted after Changbin. When we were both still in high school, Changbin epitomized the phrase #BoyfriendGoals because he was super attractive, incredibly smart, and athletic enough to earn himself a shining record after an impressive baseball season. And I was just as mindless as the rest of the zombies chasing him down in the parking lot at school or squealing his name in the hallways between classes.

“I eat here all the time,” Changbin assured me, flashing the hostess a dazzling smile while handing her his card. 

“Right this way, Mr. Seo,” the hostess curtsied, ignoring the long line of waiting patrons who apparently didn’t matter as much as my new boss as she led us to a private table. “Your waitress will be with you shortly.”

“Thank you,” I said politely, eyes wide as I took in the gorgeous chandelier dropping from the high-domed ceiling.

“Close your mouth, Y/N,” Changbin said. “You act like you’ve never been somewhere like this before.”

“Not exactly,” I said because the nicest place Chan had ever taken me was an Olive Garden and that had ended poorly after Chan accidentally knocked his shoulder against a poor server on his way back to the table causing an avalanche of salad and breadsticks.

“Bang should be taking you to places like this all the time,” Changbin commented, perhaps a casual observation to anyone else.

I narrowed my eyes suspiciously. “Chan and I prefer to keep things low-key.”

“Should I have taken you to Applebees instead?”

“How funny.”

“I’m kidding, Y/N,” Changbin said, reaching down to adjust the buttons on his coat sleeve. “You’ve changed a lot since college.”

“Since we dated you mean?” I asked with an arched brow.

“Well,” Changbin started, “if you want to think of it like that.”

“Hmmm,” I briefly meditated, studying Changbin’s expression carefully. “How else should I think about it.”

Changbin tsked, raising a hand to signal for a nearby waiter. “I don’t mean to suggest anything.”

The waiter approached our table with purposed steps. “How may I help you, sir?”

“A wine menu?” Changbin asked, nodding generously when the waiter returned with his requested selection. 

“You make a beautiful couple,” the waiter gushed while he pulled out a thick leather wallet, flipping to a fresh page.

“Oh! We’re not-”

“-A bottle of pinot noir, please,” Changbin said, returning the menu without bothering to correct the waiter’s observation.

“Right away, sir,” the waiter agreed.

I held my tongue until he was further away, bothering an older couple who were probably complaining about something to do with their food. “Changbin,” I warned him. “You should be careful.”

“It was a harmless mistake,” Changbin said. “How can I possibly come between you and Bang?”

I worried my bottom lip between my teeth because it sounded less like a dismissal and more like a challenge.

The sun was already setting by the time I returned home thanks to one of Changbin’s business partners who refused to leave the office building until they had a chance to speak to him. I was low on patience, tired from an exhausting day of dealing with telemarketers insisting our company needed the latest software for our clientele. There was only a limited number of times I could tell somebody to fuck off before inevitably shouting into the other end that I was in no way interested in whatever useless product they were trying to shove down my throat, complete with some kind of scammy discount and an opportunity to be represented on their website.

To make matters worse, my feet were blistered from wearing heels all day and my shoulders ached from slouching over my computer to answer emails and monitor the progress of Changbin’s latest project. My only saving grace was the message Chan had sent me earlier telling me that he had already clocked out at work, which meant I could probably guilt him into giving me one of his trademarked messages. I mean, all I wanted to do was curl up next to Chan in bed and sleep for the rest of the day.

But it looked like my desires would have to wait because as soon as I unlocked the door to the house, I could immediately sense that something was wrong. Taking a deep breath, I cautiously walked into the living room to find Chan and Felix busy with some kind of video game on our HD TV, volume high until I walked in the room. Chan waited until I called his name, reaching for the remote to mute the TV before tossing his controller onto the coffee table. From across the room, Felix’s eyes were alight with mischief.

“How was work today?” Chan asked with a tone that I only ever heard when my husband was feeling particularly pissed off about something, and I had a sneaking suspicion it involved me in some capacity.

“It was fine,” I said, deciding to play it safe while I kept my complaints to myself.

Felix smirked in my direction, whistling to himself as he reached for his game controller. “Felix told me something interesting today.”

“Oh did he?” I asked, wondering just how much pain Felix could tolerate if I marched over to him right now and hit him with an umbrella.

“He said he tried to have lunch with you.”

“I was busy.”

“With Seo Changbin?”

Felix was definitely going to die tonight. That little snitch deserved every ounce of punishment I was starting to formulate inside my head. “He invited me out instead.”

“I got that,” Chan snapped and I knew my husband was in a foul mood. I’m talking about the kind of mood that usually sent me scampering for the safety of the bunkers. Like the time some drunk asshole rear-ended Chan’s precious convertible while we were sitting in downtown traffic. Or the time when we were Freshmen in college and Chan confronted Changbin after finding out that he had been cheating on me.

But this time the problem was me which meant I couldn’t just hide from Chan and wait for things to go back to normal. “Honey,” I attempted to reassure him. “It was just lunch.”

“Yeah? But that doesn’t seem like keeping things strictly professional to me, Y/N.”

“He’s my boss now, I can’t just tell him no.”

“Actually, you can,” Chan disagreed, now refusing to look at me. “How would you like it if I ate with my new superintendent?”

“Depends on if she offered to pay or not.”

“Y/N.”

“Chan,” I pouted. “I’m really sorry! He just surprised me.”

“It makes me wonder what else you might be doing with him,” Chan snarked.

Meanwhile, Felix calmly continued to play his video game while wearing the biggest shit-eating grin. “Are you accusing me of having an affair?”

“Why not?” Chan shrugged. “Since we’re keeping secrets from each other.”

“It was just one lunch,” I shouted. “He’s never done anything like this before. Most of the time I’m alone in the lobby taking his stupid phone calls.”

“And that’s all I should ever hear about,” Chan growled. 

“You’re making this into a bigger deal than it needs to be,” I scoffed, rolling my eyes before remembering just how much Chan hated it when I did that to him.

“Y/N,” Chan addressed me sternly, deciding to abandon his seat on the couch to crowd me in the foyer. “If this was anyone else, I wouldn’t make it into a bigger deal, but this is someone you used to fuck while running around campus bragging about it to everyone who would listen...which was usually me!”

“He doesn’t mean anything to me,” I said. “I already told you that!”

“You’ve said a lot of things recently,” Chan said. “I’m not sure what to believe anymore.”

“Yeah? Well, it’s your brother’s fault since he’s always looking to cause a fight between us,” I said, glaring at Felix while he continued to play the part of the perfect little angel that Chan always considered him.

“Don’t drag Felix into this, he has nothing to do with anything!”

“Oh, don’t be stupid, Chan,” I huffed. “We fight more about Felix than we do about Changbin.”

“Stupid?!”

Oh, Jesus, Y/N, when are you going to learn to watch your big mouth? “Channie, I’m tired of fighting all the time. I feel like we’re always fighting.”

“Yeah? Well, you give me a lot of reasons to stay mad at you.”

“For fuck’s sake,” I groaned. “We never fought this much when we were dating.”

“Is that so? You think our marriage is the problem?”

I froze at his implications. At this point, Felix might as well drag out a bucket of popcorn because this was probably the most interesting drama he had watched all year. “Chan, you can’t honestly believe that.”

“I don’t know what to believe anymore,” Chan said, shaking his head. “But maybe I’ll give you some time to think about it.”

“Chan!” I whined, fighting back tears as I watched him turn his back on me. For the first time since we had met, Chan was leaving an argument unresolved, choosing to lock himself away in our bedroom while I struggled to keep myself together in the middle of our foyer. 

“Goodbye, Y/N,” Felix whispered into the silent room, waving his fingers at me because he had gotten exactly what he wanted.

Felix’s birthday often turned into a multiple-day affair because he always wanted the best that money could buy. Since Chan and I still weren’t speaking to one another, Chan was taking the brunt of party preparations which meant Felix was practically over the moon with excitement. And why shouldn’t he be? He hit the metaphorical jackpot because he somehow got me in the doghouse while he soaked up all of Chan’s attention. 

“Y/N,” Felix whined. “My toast is burnt!”

“Sorry,” I murmured softly, taking his plate even though the bread looked perfectly fine. Meanwhile, Chan chose not to say a word, heavily engrossed in his laptop and doing his absolute best to pretend I was invisible. 

“What about this, Felix?” he asked, tilting his laptop screen so that his brother could see whatever it was that probably cost hundreds of dollars. On the other hand, I couldn’t even find the courage to ask Chan for his credit card so that I could replace the broken stool at our counter.

“That’s perfect, Channie!” Felix grinned, hanging off his brother’s shoulder like the little pest he was. 

Our Amazon shopping cart was steadily filling with Felix’s party supplies. But I guess it was just Chan’s account now since he had changed the password without telling me. I tried to order a new curtain for the bathroom, only to repeatedly watch the warning screen pop-up with every refresh of the page. “Who do you want at your party?” Chan asked Felix.

“Hyunjin, Jisung...” Felix started, listing out each name while I winced every time because our house would probably end up completely trashed at this rate.

“Whatever you want,” Chan said, apparently forgetting the last time Jisung came over only to break one of my grandmother’s expensive vases. Since it was my stuff, he probably didn’t care. “I have to leave soon,” Chan said, wordlessly clicking on the ‘place your order ’ button before logging off.

“Will you be gone all day again?” Felix pouted, jutting out his bottom lip and offering his very best puppy dog eyes.

23-years-old my ass.

“I’ll do my best,” Chan promised his brother. “Do you need anything while I’m out.”

“More chocolate cereal?”

10-years-old more likely.

“I’ll see you tonight,” Chan cooed to Felix, ruffling his hair before snatching his coat from my outstretched hand, refusing to even acknowledge my existence. 

Felix waited until Chan was gone to lean in across the counter. “You two are so cute, Medusa.”

“I fucking hate you,” I said, aggressively attacking the grease stain on the stainless steel pot I was currently washing.

“Whatever,” Felix shrugged. “Will you ask Minho to come to my birthday party?”

“There’s not a fucking chance in hell that I’m asking him,” I snapped.

“Why?” Felix posed the question as if he felt absolutely no shame. “I like Minho and I want him to be there.”

“Fuck off,” I retorted, drying my hands against the rough texture of the dishtowel.

Felix sniffled, reaching for his phone and holding it up to his ear. “Channie? Yeah, Y/N was being really mean to me-”

“-Jesus, fine, I’ll ask him,” I quickly interrupted the little Devil. “How old are you turning again?”

“24!” Felix grinned. 

“Then act like it,” I muttered while dialing Minho’s number.

There were only two rings before he answered. “It’s too early on Saturday for this bullshit, Y/N,” came Minho’s pleasant voice from the other end.

“You sleep too much anyway,” I returned. “I have something to ask you.”

“It better be pretty fucking important.”

“Will you come to Felix’s stupid birthday party this Friday?” I asked him, ignoring Felix’s bright smile as he tried to listen in on our conversation.

“Did you buy booze?”

“I’m sure Chan will buy the little bastard all the booze he wants,” I said, pushing Felix out of the way.

“What time?” Minho asked. “I’m a very busy man, Y/N.”

“The hell you are,” I snorted. “9:00 PM. Don’t be late! I’ll be the pathetic piece of trash sitting on the couch alone.”

“It’s about time you learn, Y/N,” Felix remarked, giggling when I threw the dishtowel at him.

“Still in trouble with hubby?” Minho asked. “I hear you have to stay separated for a year before the courts grant divorces these days.”

“You’re an asshole,” I said. “Should I put you down on the guest list?”

“Of course,” Minho said. “Underlined because I’m a VIP”

I hung up on him before he could dig his grave any deeper.

“Don’t burn that,” Felix scolded me, hovering by my side to play the part of Gordon Ramsay while I sweated my ass off to cook everything on his stupid party menu.

“It’s not burnt,” I grumbled. 

“I hope you’re not wearing that to my party,” Felix said, casting a critical eye over my outfit. 

I reached down to adjust the waistband of my skirt. “What’s wrong with it?”

“This is a classy party, Y/N, and you look like a hooker.”

“Go help your brother or something,” I said, doing my best to be nice since it was Felix’s birthday. I could manage some form of kindness even if he didn’t deserve it.

“Chan’s fine,” Felix waved me off even though I was certain I saw Chan struggling to hang up lights on the balcony just moments ago when I went to change my clothes.

I glanced at the clock above the stove. “Your fellow party animals will be here soon.”

“You’re not cool enough for those references,” Felix told me as he straightened his tie. 

“I wasn’t trying to be,” I said, wiping my forehead with a nearby towel. My makeup was probably smeared but I didn’t care. Who was I hoping to impress anyway? The only person I dressed up for was Chan and he could care less about my appearance.

And it was only a few minutes later when the doorbell started to ring. I took a deep breath to try and reassure myself that I could make it through tonight without another Advil. “Someone’s here!” Felix squeaked, knocking his shoulder against mine in his haste to answer the door.

“No matter who it is, I’ll still be in hell,” I muttered, closing my eyes when I recognized Hyunjin’s voice mixing with Felix’s.

“Y/N!” Hyunjin sang, poking his head in the kitchen as if he owned the place. “There you are! Looking all pretty for us.”

“That was the goal,” I half-heartedly quipped back, turning off the stove once I declared Felix’s stupid Tteok-bokki cooked enough.

“Your legs look good,” Hyunjin said, abruptly leaning in closer. “Are you even wearing anything under that skirt?”

“Hyunjin!” Felix shouted his friend’s name from the living room. “Come check out the decorations.”

Hyujin blew a kiss in my direction, tossing me a poor excuse for a wink. “Bye, Y/N!”

Maybe one more Advil wouldn’t hurt.

The party was in full swing by the time Minho finally arrived, greeting Felix with some kind of cheesy handshake. It was too late for me and I had already resigned myself to the futon of isolation in the living room, mourning the loss of one of my good dishes thanks to Han Jisung deciding to request something fancier than our regular set. “Sorry, Y/N,” Jisung had apologized. “I’m sure you can easily replace it.”

“Yeah, I’m sure my dead grandmother has another lying around somewhere,” I snarled in his direction, ignoring his wide-eyed look of disbelief as I searched for the broom.

Minho eventually finished his conversation with Felix, offering me a sympathetic look while occupying the last remaining chair. “Y/N?”

“Oh, I’m doing just fine,” I told him.

“You look miserable,” Minho informed me, throwing up his feet on my glass coffee table even though I had told him countless times before to keep his dirty socks on the floor.

“Chan hates me,” I said. “Felix is happy.”

“Ah,” Minho nodded. “Trouble in paradise?”

“It’s all Felix’s fault,” I sniped. “He found out I went to lunch with Changbin and told Chan because he knew it would lead to an argument.”

“He still doesn’t like you?” Minho snorted as if the idea were amusing.

“Felix has hated me since the beginning of time. He was brought to this Earth to cause me misery.”

“I’m sure that’s an exaggeration,” Minho said. “Where is Chan, anyway?”

“I don’t know,” I sighed. “If he wasn’t with Felix, then you might want to check the balcony. I think I saw him sneaking the Advil bottle out there earlier.”

Minho snickered. “You don’t even realize it, but you two are grossly similar. I’m sure Chan would have preferred a quiet dinner out somewhere.”

“Well, Felix always gets what he wants,” I said. “It’s been this way since high school.”

Minho considered me for a moment. “In his defense, Chan has always been Felix’s best friend. They’ve been attached at the hip since they were kids, but then you came into the picture. Suddenly, Chan isn’t as interested in spending all his time with Felix any more.”

“Are you saying I need to find Felix a girlfriend?”

“Y/N,” Minho said softly. “I’m just saying, maybe you need to think about things from Felix’s perspective for once. You were an only child, so you can’t understand what it means to share a close relationship with a brother.”

“Hmm, well you’re like a brother to me,” I teased him.

“Ugh,” Minho gagged. “You’ve had my dick in your mouth before, Y/N, please never say that again.”

“I was trying to be sweet,” I said. “But you ruined it.”

“Did I?” Minho smirked, glancing up at something behind me. “Are you having a good time, Felix?”

“We’re out of beer,” Felix interrupted, face suddenly mere inches from mine. 

“You shouldn’t drink like a fish.”

“Medusa,” Felix tried again, holding out a ring of car keys. “Make yourself useful and buy us some more beer.”

I rolled my eyes but acquiesced. “Whatever you want, your majesty.”

I hated winter in New York City because the sidewalks were icy all the time and I was constantly in danger of rolling my ankle. Nevertheless, I tolerated the snow and wind by trading my heels for rain boots and wrapping my body in the thickest coat I owned. Normally, I might consider walking to the convenience store, but tonight I knew my fingers would be nothing but frozen icicles if I attempted that perilous journey.

Thankfully, the traffic was fairly light this late at night which allowed a relatively quick drive to the store, parking my corvette at the sidewalk. I walked inside with a muffled greeting to the store attendant, searching down the aisle to where the beer was stocked in the freezers. “He didn’t even tell me what he wanted,” I scoffed, deciding on the expensive Corona from the bottom shelf since Felix always liked things more when they cost a lot of money.

“Having a party?” the store attendant joked, accepting my debit card after ringing up the cases. 

“Something like that,” I said, wondering if that was always his assumption if someone bought more than one bottle of the nasty smelling beverage.

Meanwhile, it had started snowing again when I walked back outside, popping the trunk to store the beer until I finally returned home. I switched on the ignition and turned on the heat to its fullest setting before sitting back in my seat to wrap my arms around myself, fighting off a series of chills. The action reminded me of Junior Year when Chan and I used to make late-night trips to the gas station near his apartment complex. We’d buy all sorts of unnecessary snacks, driving back together because we had planned a movie marathon of Harry Potter. Chan always complained about the films I liked, but he watched them anyway because he knew I enjoyed them.

I came to a stop at a red light, frowning when I noticed that nobody was coming in either direction. “Change already,” I ordered the traffic light as if it could possibly accommodate my request. 

“I’ll teach you patience, Y/N,” Chan once told me after we waited nearly an hour in a heavy downpour outside the comic book shop because he just had to have some kind of rare edition figurine.

The traffic light eventually turned green and I rolled out into the intersection, never noticing the reckless SUV until mere seconds before it crashed into the side of my car.

I had the worst luck in the world when it came to relationships. First, there was my tired rendezvous with Minho in high school, blowing my best friend in the bathroom because he’d always fuck me with his fingers afterward. Then, there was that slimy bastard Seo Changbin who I willingly gave my virginity to, thinking he was the love of my life. That was before I found out he was cheating on me with some sleazy cheerleader thanks to a couple of photos surfacing on Facebook. My heart was instantly broken, pride in shambles as I spent an entire week hiding out in my dormitory ignoring all phone calls and text messages as I cried over a boy who never deserved my attention in the first place.

I plucked a few strands of grass from the ground next to my feet, savoring the first taste of sunlight I had allowed myself since that unfortunate discovery. Who the hell did Seo Changbin think he was anyway? Playing with my heart like that as if it meant absolutely nothing to him. 

At least I wasn’t sad anymore, having spent enough time crying over the destructive boy. Now, all I could think about was smacking that stupid smug grin off his face while thoroughly purging my built-up frustrations...“Y/N?”

I turned around quickly at the sound of Chan’s voice, rising to my feet to brush the loose grass and dirt from my jeans. “Channie,” I said, nervously wringing my hands in front of me. Chan was probably mad at me since I had been ignoring him all week.

“Are you okay?” he asked instead, tone surprisingly gentle as he stopped in front of me.

“Not really,” I told him honestly.

“I didn’t think so,” Chan said, features hardening. “I’ll beat the shit out of Seo for you.”

I shook my head. “That won’t do any good.”

“But if it makes you feel better,” Chan said, reaching out to delicately swipe his thumb under my eyes. “You aren’t sleeping.”

It was more of a statement rather than a question, but I still felt the need to reassure him. “I promise that I’m okay.”

“You don’t have to lie to me,” Chan said, offering me a kind smile. “I can tell, you know?”

“Yeah you’re good at that,” I groused. 

“I’m pretty good at a lot of things when it comes to you,” Chan admitted, eyes holding a pure kind of affection as they appraised me.

“I’m glad I have you,” I said, letting out a sigh as I allowed my head to rest against the center of his chest. “You don’t think I’m stupid for trying things out with Changbin?”

“You’ve always liked him,” Chan said with a bitter tone that sounded more like a jealous lover rather than a friend.

I chose not to say anything. “I hope the two of them make each other miserable.”

Chan chuckled. “Is this your form of revenge?”

“I don’t think it’ll work out in my favor,” I said, pressing myself even closer to Chan, pausing when my hand drug across his stomach. “Holy shit, Channie, you weren’t kidding about the gym.”

“Did you not believe me?”

“Who are you trying to impress?” I grinned, propping my chin against his sternum to make it easier to look into his eyes.

“It’s always been the same person,” Chan said vaguely, dimples on display as he considered me. “I hope Seo didn’t destroy your faith in relationships.”

“It wouldn’t be entirely his fault,” I sighed. “All my relationships have been complete failures.

“Y/N,” Chan whispered, brushing a light kiss across my forehead. “Maybe it’s because you’ve never tried the right guy.”

The memory was laced with something warm, an association that stood in stark contradiction to my current condition, slowly opening my eyes to a pulsing room, somehow much too bright for my pupils to adjust. Was I alive? I wondered because I couldn’t really feel anything which was certainly disarming. But then there was a familiar smell, rancid and burning, and it made me feel like I was definitely not in any sort of happy afterlife. There was also the problem of the blurry figure slowly coming into focus next to me, fiddling with an array of wires twisting together with the sounds of a machine distantly clicking in the background. I watched through hooded eyes as the now perceivable person in question handled an impressively large needle, pinching my skin painfully at the juncture of my elbow. 

“Han Jisung,” I began, startling him from where he was checking the IV. “Just put a fucking needle into my arm. What hellish realm have I descended into?”

“Y/N!” Jisung squealed loudly, leaning down to press a sloppy kiss against my forehead. 

“What the hell was that for?”

“For not dying,” Jisung sighed in relief. “When you came in, there was nothing but blood and glass everywhere!... Oh, and Chan may or may not have a fine against him for beating the living shit out of the asshole that hit you.”

“Why are you so loud?” I groaned, palming my forehead because the room was still swimming into focus. “What happened?”

“You probably don’t remember,” Jisung said. “It was a pretty bad concussion, but you were in a car accident.”

“I was?” I questioned, struggling to recall anything past a few minutes ago when I first realized that incompetent Han Jisung was sticking pointy objects into my veins.

“Chan was so upset,” Jisung said. “He wanted to do the surgery, but the superintendent wouldn’t let him.”

“Surgery?” I repeated. “I had surgery?”

“Cuz’ of your ribs,” Jisung said quietly as if finally realizing that he probably shouldn’t be saying all this to me at once, especially if the persistent beeping of the heart monitor was something to be concerned about.

“What’s wrong with my ribs?” I asked, somewhat panicking as I felt down my chest, noticing the thick bandage wrapped around my upper body. 

“Chill, Y/N,” Jisung placated, reaching around me to adjust the monitor. “Now I can’t get an accurate reading!”

“So sorry to inconvenience you,” I said with a hoarse voice, reaching up to quickly wrap my hand around my throat. “Is there something wrong with my voice?”

“Well, you’ve been out for three days so...”

“Three days!”

Now I was definitely panicking, full-on hysteria as the heart monitor loudly detected the irregular contraction of the muscle thundering aggressively against my chest. It was enough to alert the doctor on duty, walking into my room to check on his patient, scolding Jisung harshly as he filled a syringe with a clear liquid. “Don’t worry, Y/N,” he said kindly, injecting the fluid into my IV. “Just relax.”

My eyelids fluttered closed, overwhelmed by a disjointed sense of calm that gradually pulled me back under the current of drug-induced bliss.

“Sweetie.”

My eyes flew open at the sound of his voice, the best wake-up call in the whole world. I slowly turned my head to the side, taking in the sight of my disheveled husband, eyes blood-shot with heavy dark bags haunting tight circles against his pale skin. “Channie?”

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” Chan sniffled, fresh tears swelling his cheeks as he leaned in closer to grip tightly to my hand. “It’s all my fault.”

I considered him closely, wondering what he could possibly mean by accepting blame for whatever was causing him obvious pain. I faintly remember Jisung telling me about am accident, but it was difficult to really think back any further, like a wall had enclosed around my brain, refusing to allow anything else to come into consciousness. But Chan didn’t need to cry, he was usually the best part of my life, waking up in bed together to share sweet kisses or eagerly waiting for him to come home and swoon over my newest K-Drama obsession. “Why are you sad?” I asked him, reaching out to do my best and wipe away those nasty tears.

“You wouldn’t answer your phone,” Chan cried, heart-wrenching sobs that broke my heart with every heavy inhale. “I didn’t know where you were.”

“Is that why you’re upset?” I asked, wiping away a few mischievous curls that had wandered into his eyes. 

“I found you in the intersection,” Chan whispered. “And the car...” he trailed off with a choking gasp as if the details were too horrific to describe. 

“I’m here now, Channie,” I said, desperate to relieve his sadness. “I didn’t go anywhere.”

Chan nodded furiously, pressing a wet kiss to the back of my hand. “I can’t lose you like that, sweetie.”

“Well, I plan to stick around for a while,” I said, earning me a half-smile in return. “Channie,” I whispered, glancing around the room conspiratorially. “Is there anything good to eat in this place?”

This time Chan did laugh and it was the best medicine I could possibly have.

“Vitals?” Chan asked, lingering around the poor nurse who clearly wasn’t expecting this much attention over one patient when she clocked in this morning.

“I already checked them,” the nurse informed him, writing down something on the chart clipped to the edge of my bed. I sipped my water as I watched the two of them, wondering if Chan had been this overbearing the entire time.

“Temperature?”

“98 degrees.”

“Blood pressure?”

“122/75”

“Respiration?”

“Chan,” I whispered softly, immediately drawing my husband’s attention who was at my side in an instant. “I think the nurse knows how to do her job.”

The poor woman shot me a grateful smile as she re-clipped my chart, hurrying out of the room as if she couldn’t possibly escape fast enough. “Sorry,” Chan said, taking his seat next to me. “I’m just worried.”

“I get discharged tomorrow,” I told him. “Pretty sure that means I’m just fine.”

“But your leg,” Chan whined, fussily messing with the large cast, tucking the blankets in securely.

“It’ll heal,” I said, frowning as I picked at the squishy jello the nursing staff had brought in earlier. “Isn’t there anything else to eat?”

Chan tsked. “That’s good for you, Y/N. It’s full of necessary vitamins.”

I should have known better than to ask my doctor husband if I could possibly have something that actually had flavor to eat. No matter how much I begged and pleaded, Chan refused to waver from the nasty daily meals I was brought, much to my disappointment. “I’d kill for a burger.”

“Too much fat,” Chan said, turning down the idea before I could possibly try to negotiate.

“It physically hurts me to eat,” I tried. “I think they’re secretly plotting my death.”

“Y/N,” Chan scolded lightly. “There’s a reason why we serve this to patients, alright?”

I frowned at him but shoved a spoonful of the nasty substance in my mouth, earning me a pleased smile in response. “Happy?”

“You can have better food tomorrow,” Chan said, pausing as he reached down to check his phone notifications. “Minho is here,” he grumbled. “I guess I’ll go get him from the lobby before he gets lost.”

“Thank you, darling,” I chirped, accepting his brief kiss.

“I’ve seen worse,” Minho declared, ignoring Chan’s disbelieving scoff. 

“You obviously weren’t here when she was first brought in,” Chan growled to him.

“How are you feeling, Y/N?” Minho asked, disregarding Chan who had gone back to check the dozens of machines somehow monitoring my every possible bodily function.

“Hungry,” I grimaced, pointing to my discarded container.

Minho lifted it curiously, bringing it his nose before he let out an unattractive grunt. “Is this garbage?”

“Don’t encourage her,” Chan said, reaching for my chart for the millionth time that day. “I’ll be right back, Y/N.”

“Okay,” I said, rolling my eyes once his back was turned.

I waited until Chan was gone before desperately reaching out for Minho. “You’ve got to help me, Minho! I can’t stand another day of jello and mashed potatoes. Get me a Big Mac and I’ll give you the number of one of my work acquaintances.”

 Minho raised an interested brow. “Scale?”

“Oh, she’s definitely an 8...please!”

“That’s impossible to turn down, Y/N,” Minho grinned. “Give me ten minutes.”

I snatched his sleeve before he could walk away. “Make sure Chan doesn’t see.”

“So ask Han Jisung to fuck something up, got it.”

“You’re my best friend in the entire world. The rest of my life will be spent in your servitude.”

Minho offered me a brief salute and I solemnly nodded my head while ignoring the way my stomach growled.

It was growing dark outside and I’m pretty sure Jisung had accidentally given me too much of whatever pain medicine I had been prescribed. I could barely keep my eyes open as Chan settled next to me on his chair. “Y/N,” he said softly, picking at an invisible string on his suit pants. “I want to talk to you about the fight we had.”

My exhaustion vanished in a flash. “Okay,” I said, even though I had been hoping Chan would just forget that the fight even happened.

“I owe you an apology,” Chan said. “For acting like a jealous prick. I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that.”

“It’s my fault too,” I said. “I know how you feel about him, but I still went out anyway.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Chan said, swallowing down the lie even though I could always read him like a book. “But every time I think about Seo Changbin, I can’t help but remember Freshman year.”

“You act like he broke your heart instead,” I tried to joke, but Chan was everything but amused.

“Yeah, he did break your heart, Y/N, and I’ll never forgive him for it. He was an arrogant bastard back then, and I’m sure that hasn’t changed much.”

“Not really,” I agreed, recalling our prior lunch arrangement.

“And I’ll never be okay with the fact that you work with your ex-boyfriend, but since you love the job so much, I can’t possibly fight with you anymore,” Chan said. “I should trust you as my wife.”

“I’m not remotely interested in Changbin,” I said. “It just sucks that he’s got good connections.”

“But if he tries anything on you...”

“Don’t worry,” I reassured him. “I would never do anything to hurt you, even if his thighs look super good these days.”

“Y/N.”

“I know, Channie,” I giggled, reaching for his hand. “Trust me, alright? I don’t plan to work there forever. Fingers crossed for a promotion to the publisher.”

“I’ll pray every night if I have to,” Chan said. “As for Felix...”

“Don’t worry about him,” I said. “I know that I should try harder to get along with Felix.”

“It’s a two-way street,” Chan countered. “I’ve spoken to him about everything.”

“You have?” I wavered. “What did he say?”

“Well, he feels really bad about the accident,” Chan said. “I think he realizes how much better things would be if you guys were on friendlier terms.”

“He really looks up to you,” I said, recalling Minho’s words from before. “I hope he doesn’t feel like I’m trying to steal you away.”

“Felix and I have always been close,” Chan said. “We both had a hard time moving here from Australia. But at the end of the day, we could rely on each other..”

“High school wasn’t very good to either of you,” I said.

“Well, except for you of course,” Chan said, attempting a smile. 

“They were mean to you, Channie,” I said, “and you didn’t deserve any of it.”

“I’ve gotten over that,” Chan insisted. “But Felix always took everything harder than me. He wasn’t very social until college.”

“He should have stuck to being an introvert,” I said. “Look at the kind of friends he ended up with.”

“Are you saying Hyunjin is a bad influence?”

“Have you been around for our interactions?

“I’ve definitely noticed, Y/N. Remember what happened that one time when we went camping-”

“Anyways,” I loudly interrupted. “It seems like we both have a lot of things to work on.”

“But that’s why we talk about it,” Chan said, pressing a soothing kiss to the wrinkled crease of my forehead. “That’s what married couples do, right?”

“Ah, Channie, when did you become a walking cliche?”

“Should I be more serious, then?”

“You’re getting there with the doctor’s jacket.”

“Really?” Chan asked, sitting back in his chair. “Is this your way of asking us to try some kind of kinky roleplay?”

“I don’t know, but it might be interesting. Can I call you Dr. Bang?”

Chan was positively beaming. “You can always call me Daddy instead.”

“Darling, I think they accidentally gave you my prescription of morphine.”

If anyone were to ever ask me, then I’d tell them that signing hospital discharge papers was about as difficult as applying for a loan. “How many more are there?” I wondered, scribbling a messy signature at the bottom of the last sheet Jisung had brought for me to sign.

“I think that’s it.”

“You think?” I snorted, watching Jisung sort through each page carefully like he really had no idea what he was holding.

“Each year they add more shit for the patients,” Jisung explained. “I’m pretty sure they do it just to confuse me.”

“Everything confuses you, Jisung,” I said, patting his arm sympathetically. “Has Chan come in yet?”

“He’s on his way with Felix.”

“Goodie,” I grumbled. “Are you working late today?”

“Someone has to help since Chan insists on taking the day off,” Jisung said.

“I hope they aren’t planning on letting you do the surgeries.”

“Would that be such a bad thing?”

I kept my mouth shut, deciding to let Jisung live in his deluded fantasy world where he could somehow manage to cure patients of their ailments as opposed to causing them. Unsurprisingly, since the moment I had first met him, Jisung had always been completely sure of himself even if he was whole-heartedly wrong. For example, when we were all seniors in college, Chan refused to speak to Jisung for an entire week after the two of them received an F on their group project. Apparently, Jisung forgot to submit the lab report on time and waited an additional week before approaching the professor to politely ask if he could still bring it to her after class.

“Channie,” I tried to console him. “You know Jisung didn’t do it on purpose.”

“Yeah, but my GPA will still suffer the consequences,” Chan had sulked, whining about how difficult it was to maintain a friendship with Han Jisung.

Yet, when Chan was first hired by the hospital, Chan sent in a very persuasive reference for Jisung, encouraging the higher-ups to offer him a nursing position. The three of us went out to celebrate Jisung’s new job offer, nursing shots of bad vodka while eating rather terrible sushi. “Chan,” a very tipsy Jisung had said. “I love you so much, man.”

“Oi, keep your hands to yourself,” Chan had grouched despite wearing the biggest grin on his face...

“Y/N,” Jisung interrupted my recollection. “I think Chan just got here.”

“Finally,” I sighed. “I thought I would never be able to get the smell of alcohol out of my nose.”

“Thank God you’re here,” I said the moment Chan and Felix walked into my hospital room. “I’m pretty sure I had to sign my life away to leave this place, but it’s totally worth it.”

Chan rolled his eyes playfully. “I see you’re feeling better this morning.”

“I’ve been better for days,” I said. “But my doctor wouldn’t allow me to so much as breathe the wrong way.”

“Is that so?” Chan asked, reaching down for my discarded bag. “Your doctor sounds like a real asshole.”

“Yeah, but he’s pretty hot. I’d totally fuck him if I wasn’t already married.”

“It sounds like you have a thing for doctors?” Chan asked. “Does this husband of yours know that?”

“He probably does,” I said. “But I feel like he’ll probably leave me to masturbate on my own for months because of this dumb cast.”

“Y/N,” Chan scoffed. “It’s important for you to heal properly.”

I groaned loudly. “Why are you so responsible?”

Chan carefully handed me my bag. “Make sure you have everything. I’m going to talk to your surgeon one more time before we leave.”

It was difficult to prevent myself from protesting, finally realizing just how quiet it was with just me and Felix in the room. “Hi, Felix,” I said, awkwardly adjusting my blankets once Chan had disappeared from sight.

“Y/N,” Felix said, gaze focused on some unidentifiable point on the floor.

“What have you been up to?” I asked, trying to sound cheery because I didn’t like the look of despondence on Felix’s normally bright visage.

“I owe you an apology, Y/N,” Felix said with a vulnerable tone I had never heard from him before. “It’s because of me that you got hurt.”

“Felix,” I hesitated because this was uncharted territory for the both of us, a distant cry from our usual taunting banter. “You don’t need to do that. Everything’s fine now.”

“Your leg,” Felix whispered as an unexpected tear slid down the side of his face.

“It’s just a fracture,” I shrugged. “I’ll be just fine in a few months.”

“Just a fracture,” Felix parroted back, voice thick with emotion. “Why aren’t you mad at me? Because you should be. I’m always getting in your way.”

“Is that what you think?” I asked, surprised to hear Felix’s true feelings. “Felix, you aren’t in anybody’s way. You know I don’t really care that you’re staying with us, especially after you just graduated. I just wish you’d be a little bit more respectful.”

“Because I’ve always been jealous of you, Y/N,” Felix said. “Especially since Chan likes you more than me.”

“Felix, you know that Chan loves you. He would do anything in the world to make you happy.”

“He’s always chosen you over me,” Felix said. “He stopped hanging out with me on weekends in high school, and he even went to the same college as you even though he was accepted into Harvard and Yale.”  

I was shocked by Felix’s true feelings, a rare moment of vulnerability that he was choosing to share with me. “Lixie,” I said. “Why have you never said anything before?”

Felix shivered at my use of his nickname. “I didn’t want to. You guys are so happy together and I didn’t want to hurt Chan.”

“Ya! Felix,” I frowned, “your feelings matter too. And if you really feel that way, then we need to talk about it together.”

“I’m just a burden,” Felix gruffed.

“No, you aren’t,” I insisted. “You’re part of our family, and if you’re ever feeling uncomfortable, then you deserve to be heard.”

“You don’t really mean that do you, Y/N?” Felix asked with glistening eyes. “I don’t want you to say these things just to make me feel better.”

“Felix, when have you ever seen me lying to someone just to protect their feelings?” I asked. “I always speak my mind, and this time I’m putting my foot down. When we get home, we’re having a movie marathon, just the three of us. And this weekend, you and Chan can go somewhere together out of town. I’ll have Minho stay with me instead.”

“Really?” Felix asked, swiping a sleeve under his bright red nose. 

“We’re in-laws you know,” I said. “That means we look out for one another.”

“Y/N,” Felix giggled and, for once, I didn’t feel the slightest bit annoyed. 

“Lee Felix, don’t you ever let me catch you crying like this again, understand?”

Felix nodded, smiling so brilliantly that I was reminded of when we were much younger and he was just an innocent little boy who idolized his older brother.

“Careful,” Chan said, holding the door wide with one hand while keeping a firm grip around my waist. 

“I’m not gonna break,” I grumbled, pausing in the doorway as I let out a grateful sigh. It was a huge relief to be back at home and not stuck in that hospital room surrounded by questionable smells. 

Chan carefully led me into the living room and I gave him my crutches before collapsing on the futon, ignoring the rigid fabric because I had never been happier to hug one of the matching throw pillows. “Comfortable?” Chan asked, helping me prop my leg up on the coffee table. Meanwhile, Felix lingered in the doorway, grasping my bag tightly between his hands.

“Come join us, Felix,” I said. “You’ll let out all the heat.”

Felix nodded, eyes wide as he locked the door behind him. Chan sent me a curious look as if he wasn’t sure what I was hoping to accomplish by inviting his younger brother into the same room. “I have something for you.”

I clapped my hands together eagerly. “Is it something loaded with carbohydrates and fat?”

“Not quite,” he said, handing me my cell phone. “Seo Enterprises called earlier today. I already contacted them about the accident, but I guess they need to hear from you.”

“Great,” I grimaced, dialing the number from memory. It rang for a few moments, and Chan and Felix were both messing around with the TV, probably trying to figure out what to watch. Because the only thing the two brothers argued about was whether action movies were better than romance.

“Seo Enterprises, this is Eliza speaking how can I help you today?”

“Hi,” I immediately cringed, wondering how many cool points I could possibly lose in one day. “This is Y/N, can I speak to Mr. Seo please?”

“I can transfer you right away,” Eliza spoke promptly as if she had already been prepared to receive my call.

“Y/N!” Changbin’s voice now answered. “I’m glad to hear from you.”

“Yeah, I’ve been having a lot of bad luck recently,” I said. “I guess you know about the accident.”

“I heard,” Changbin said. “How are you?”

“I’m alright,” I said. “But I might need some time away from the company. Apparently, a broken leg is a pretty big deal.”

“Take as much time as you need, Y/N,” Changbin said. “I’ve hired a temporary secretary until you’re ready to come back.”

“I don’t know, Changbin,” I said. “It might take several weeks. Maybe you should just hire a replacement.”

“There’s no need for that, Y/N,” Changbin countered. “I still believe you’re the best person for the job.”

“Well, if you’re sure...” I trailed off, shaking my head furiously at Chan when he held up our used copy of The Notebook.

“I’m definitely sure,” Changbin said. “Call me when you want to come back. We still have a lot of things I want to do together in the future.”

“You’re too indecisive,” Chan said, finally taking a well-deserved seat next to me on the futon. 

“And you have terrible taste in cinema,” Felix retorted.

“Yeah? Well maybe we should just let Y/N pick,” Chan suggested, mouthing a sweet kiss against my temple.

“I think Felix should decide,” I said, cuddling up closer to Chan’s side. 

“Really?” Felix asked, appearing entirely surprised that I would allow him such freedom.

“Why not?” I sighed happily. “I’ll even watch that weird anime movie if you want.”

Felix scoffed but a faint smile remained as he grabbed the remote. Chan chuckled and leaned down to press another kiss to the top of my forehead. “I’m proud of you, sweetie,” he whispered.

“It’s only because I love you so much,” I said while shrugging indifferently, but Chan could always read through me.

“Hmm, well I love you more,” he said, brushing his fingers through my hair as the opening credits rolled across the screen.

[veiledpeaches]

chance encounters | part iii: what i mean when i say

Summary: Between pages of meddling friends and societal expectations, all she actually wants is to find a happily ever after with Doyoung, even if it feels like that is no longer possible.

part i x part ii x part iii x part iv x part v x part vi

word count: 4k

GIF originally posted by @lukhei​

Haewon’s day starts briefly like this – a backache verging on cataclysmic, a phone that is ringing off the hook and a thunderous sizzle from the kitchen that could be an auditory representation of Johnny cooking up a storm for no particular reason on a Saturday morning.

“Johnny Suh, you know you’re not allowed to touch the kitchen as long as I am in the house.” She gripes as she walks out of her bedroom upon washing up.

“It’s my house,” Johnny argues, just as he places a fork and knife on either side of the dish he has prepared for her. “And - you’re welcome. Johnny’s homemade blueberry pancakes.”

“Please, you should be thanking me,” she says, sliding all her hair across one shoulder and digging into the pancakes. “Plus, what if I wanted waffles? That would void your compensation.”

“I can make you waffles later if you want,” Johnny winks. “Although, we can argue that pancakes really don’t deserve such discrimination if waffles aren’t accorded the same breakfast ghettoization - they’re practically made of the same ingredients.”

Haewon studies him with narrowed eyes. “That good, huh?”

“Whaddya mean?” Johnny’s expression turns sheepish.

“Ghettoization?” She returns the question, moving her hair behind her shoulder and smirking, “you’re rambling, it’s written all over your face, you sad sad man-child.”

He jauntily sits himself on the chair in front of her, the grin on his face too pleased to be contrite. “It was good.”

“We really ought to soundproof your room, she literally woke me up-”

The lady in question chooses this opportune moment to make her presence known, sauntering up to Haewon and Johnny as she buckles her watch to her wrist. Haewon’s head whips towards Johnny with glaring eyes, while Johnny discreetly mouths an apology back to her. They had laid down the quintessential rule (the rule that makes all ground rules obsolete) when Haewon had moved in in early 2017 - staying over’s only okay after the fifth date; if you want to have a one-night stand, book yourself a hotel. This is Johnny’s second infraction of the year (not that Haewon is counting, she has too much of a life for that). She hears Johnny’s date of four times stop short in front of them.

“Youngho-ah, who’s this lady and what’s she doing eating your pancakes in her underwear?”

Haewon drops her gaze onto herself as Johnny stands to give the accuser a kiss on the temple. It’s clearly just a camisole that’s in question, though given what Johnny’s lover is planning to wear out of the apartment, it’s sort of audacious of her to bring this up when she’s really giving Haewon a run for her money.

“This is Haewon, baby, my roommate. I grew up with her back in the U.S.”

“Ah,” Said lover reaches her hand out to shake Haewon’s in an oddly formal manner, her coffin nails digging slightly into the back of her hand. Haewon guesses the sigh that emits from her lips right after she studies her has more to do with relief than recognition.

Shrugging internally, Haewon sits back down to finish her breakfast as she hears Johnny and his partner-she-can’t-give-a-name-to-‘cause-Johnny-said-no-labels kiss noisily and bid goodbye, as she eyes said partner’s figure. Yeap, Johnny’s definitely a titties man.

“It was a crime of passion, your honor!” Johnny dramatically pleads once the door shuts as Haewon shakes her head vigorously and mutters, “that’s not how you use it”.

“You’re cleaning the apartment the whole of next month,” Haewon insists, before her eyes widen as a thought flits into her head, “oh my God, you guys didn’t do it on the couch, did you-”

“Of course not! I’m not an animal!” Johnny pretends to be scandalized, “and, come on. It was 2am. I couldn’t kick her out of bed - what can I say, I’m a gentleman. A modern romantic.”

“I think you catastrophically misinterpret the word ‘romantic’.”

Despite the inflection, Johnny is, one-hundred percent, a hopeless romantic - something Haewon quickly learnt after witnessing the poor man get dumped over the phone a while after she had relocated to Seoul. Johnny believes in the concept of soulmates, the proverbial ‘one’, and an ancient concept that most people would currently refer to as ‘destiny’. The manifestation of his soulmate pursuit is countless dates and relationships, grandiose expressions of love and a penchant for serenading his lovers with roses from their windows - a gesture not every Korean woman appreciates especially at 11pm on a Thursday night.

“I think I’m gonna marry her, Haewon,” Johnny tells her now, with a sparkle in his eye, “I think she's the one.”

Haewon looks at him disbelievingly. “You’ve been on four dates, John.”

“I know, but it feels so right, you know?” He smiles softly in a moment of clairvoyance, standing up to clear their plates. “Speaking of marrying someone, isn’t there something you need to do on Monday?”

Haewon rolls her eyes. Subtlety has never been his strong suit.

There’s a reason Johnny has been calling Monday D-day for the past week, and repeatedly using phrases that border on annoying such as ‘it’s go time’ and ‘let’s get it’. Monday would mark the return of a highly anticipated Kim Doyoung, and Johnny is adamant that Haewon should tell Doyoung, especially since Inhee has not confessed about what she's done.

“Isn’t it possible that she might want to tell him face-to-face?”

“If it was me,” Johnny straddles the chair in mock confrontation, balancing his arms on the seat. “If this was me, would you be saying something so naïve?”

“But it’s not you-”

“If the conditions were the same, but it was me instead of Doyoung, you know you would tell me in a heartbeat. And I would appreciate it, Haewon, just as he would.”

“You’re not doing this for yourself,” he looks at Haewon with a seriousness that silences her. “Don’t beat yourself up over something you have no reason to. You’re doing it for Doyoung.”

“The moment he reaches work, you march into his office, and you tell him truthfully what you saw. No one can accuse you of anything when you’re just being truthful.”

There’s a sign on the wall at the far right corner of the office that says “There’s no room for losers”. It’s a signature Fulworth saying, especially when things get tough at work. 

Haewon has never felt particularly perturbed by it until now. She can almost hear the enunciation of the word ‘losers’ in his low, gruff voice.

Unlike Johnny’s prediction, Haewon’s will isn’t the only thing stopping her from talking to Doyoung about his fiancée when Monday comes. The issue turns out to be a lot less 1980s-movie-dramatic than they had expected – a case of timing.

Doyoung has been in and out of meetings since he entered the office after lunch.

It’s not even like Haewon has been systematically avoiding him. Doyoung barely had a chance to say hi to her and update her about the situation at Bertsman when he had been whisked away by a very anxious Lee Donghyuck, who had been held in trepidation for the last two weeks due to the declining sales figures. Haewon had laughed, gotten back to the copy she had been working on for Cho Young Jun’s book press release, her stomach lurching at the thought of what she had to do later.

There's no room for losers, the neat cursive print stares back at her from the wall.

It’s only hours later, when the sky has turned pitch black and the hour hand on the clock has pointed to ten, that Haewon begrudgingly creaked her joints into motion as she made her way to the Managing Editor’s office, cursing Johnny and all that he stood for as a person.

“Haewon!” Doyoung’s lips breaks into a smile and stands up suddenly, with only the harsh light from the desk lamp illuminating his face. “I thought I told you to leave at six, I don’t even know when I can leave the office…”

“Doyoung works late every night. We hardly spend much time in the same room anymore. We don’t even talk anymore, about our lives and our work.”

“Boss, you just got back late last night. You should rest.” She tries, “and, well, your fiancée might be waiting up…”

“It’s okay, Inhee understands,” Doyoung laughs, “besides, I sort of have to undo literally everything the Bertsman employees have done. That’s what I’ve been saying, you can’t trust any one of their employees, they don’t do things the way we do,” he smirks.

Haewon smiles softly at him, even if he cannot see, his eyes trailing after the lines on the paper in front of him.

“Ah, but what can I do? I’m just a worker ant.” He flops his arms around, as if mimicking an actual worker ant.

This action doesn’t bring Haewon laughter as she had expected. Instead, her heart feels like it’s been wrung, the sudden tightening in her chest inexplicable. She doesn’t know if it’s a biological reaction, but tears have started to fill her eyes, and there seems to be nothing else she can do but blink them back.

This is the Doyoung that Haewon has fallen in love with, all five foot ten of him, gummy smile and square shoulders, a kind boss and a workaholic - but how real her feelings are doesn’t and cannot negate how ill-placed the same feelings are in their situation. Here he is, looking at her, grinning at her, as her vision blurs. In that moment, she swears she hears something in her break; a small, clean sound, like the snapping of a flower’s stem.

“Oh by the way, you really need to get back to me on the wedding,” he laughs breathily, “I really need that RSVP-”

“I can’t go.” The words leave her before she realizes, breath seeming to return to her lungs temporarily. “I… I can’t attend your wedding.”

His face falls.

“Oh, you have something that day?” His smile doesn’t reach his eyes.

“No, I…” She looks down, licking her lips and inhaling shakily. “I can't attend your wedding, because…”

“Haewon.”

“Because… Because I like you.”

She hears more than sees his reaction, the pen in his hand slipping through his fingers and thudding gently onto the carpeted floor. “Haewon.”

“Because I like you,” her voice is still shaky, but there’s a part of her that’s calmer than ever before. “I can’t attend your wedding.”

She lifts her gaze to meet his, but Doyoung’s expression remains unreadable. She feels her jaw start to quiver, and clenches down on it.

“I like you, Doyoung. I like you so much that I can’t sleep, can’t think. I like you, I want to be with you, but you know what I also want?” She lets out a shaky breath, “I want you to be happy…”

It’s not like a leaky faucet, or a dam breaking. Instead, it’s like the little Dutch boy had pulled his finger out of her chest, because suddenly everything inside her is spilling out at once.

“But I see you everyday,” she shuts her eyes, and the tears flow at their will, “I don’t… know… what to do. Believe me, if I could will these feelings away, I would. I don’t want to feel so pathetic, I don’t want to like you like this.

“But I’ve also realized that I can’t be that… person, who stands on the sidelines and watches as you marry someone else - I can’t, I couldn’t do that to myself. I’m sorry. This is so out of line and you probably don’t want to hear this.” She inhales shakily, shutting her eyes as she pauses. “I’m sorry for telling you this… I just… I just needed you to know.”

Doyoung looks at her as if in a daze, his own lips quivering, until almost immediately, his head falls and he inhales sharply, as if giant invisible scissors had cut off his marionette strings.

“Why… Why now.”

Her eyes widen. “What do you-”

“Why are you telling me this, Haewon?” Doyoung looks at her like she’s missing a point, like she’s the most breakable thing in the world. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

Her eyes sting with fresh tears. She can feel something rising in her throat - a sob, a scream - but she bites it back, shutting her eyes so tightly there are almost tears that refuse to escape. She hates herself for crying, for showing any weakness here, for thinking she ever had a shot with someone like him.

There's no room for losers, but in that moment, she can’t help but feel like she has become one.

It’s Friday, finally the end of the week.

She softly clicks the pen in her hand open and close, drifting in and out as Huang Renjun drones on and on about the press kits they are planning to prepare for the media and why the Marketing Department needed more of the budget to be allocated to them.

This meeting has lasted way too long, and it feels even longer with Doyoung right next to her, the sleeve of his jacket inches away from hers. He's scribbling down notes diligently, making her existence in the meeting obsolete - it’s been like this the whole week, and Haewon is exhausted. She knows what Doyoung is doing, how he’s taking meeting minutes down like someone who doesn’t have an assistant so he doesn’t have to ask her for them later. Despite the promise of putting what happened behind them on Monday, she’s entirely aware that things will never be the same again.

The envelope sitting in her bag is still warm, its contents only freshly printed this morning. She vaguely hears Kim Jungwoo asking a question before all eyes are suddenly turned towards her.

All, but Doyoung's.

She looks around the room, befuddled, while feeling Yuta’s foot nudge hers gently, presumably to get her to speak.

“I’m so sorry,” she finally says.

“Manager Kim asked if you had too much on your plate,” the timid intern next to Kim Jungwoo speaks up, “and if you were willing to undertake more of the comms with Cho Young Jun himself.”

She opens her mouth, surprised, and turns to Kim Jungwoo.

“As we were saying, before you spaced out on us,” he laughs good-naturedly, “we let him read the copy you wrote and he likes it. He specified that he wants to work with you.”

Haewon’s gaze drops to her notebook, where a messily scrawled question blinks back at her. Today or next week? She blinks, momentarily realizing that the decision presented to her now accounted for more in the future than she had thought.

“I… That would be a great opportunity for me, thank you.”

Kim Jungwoo grins. “Don’t thank me, your boss told the boy that you were highly supportive of his work. Of course he would be excited to work with you.”

She turns towards Doyoung, a wide-eyed Doyoung, a Doyoung who only looks back at her now, his eyes not betraying any emotion.

There’s something about placing the envelope on his desk that makes it so official, a breath of fresh air that comes from a gesture that’s so unabashedly melodramatic and passé. Doyoung eyes the envelope warily, clearly this was not something he had imagined.

“Why is it… addressed to me? Why isn’t it in an email?” Doyoung drops his glasses onto his desk, pressing his fingers gently against his eyelids. “Why… What is this, Haewon?”

“I just…” She licks her lips. “I just wanted to make sure you received it, is all.”

Doyoung looks at her for a moment, then gets up and shuts the door of his office, before clicking on the button below his desk, rendering the glass office translucent.

“Tell me, Haewon, what is this about? Is it because of Monday?”

She winces, remembering the state of mess she had reduced herself to that night. The only thing more pathetic than confessing to someone who’s engaged, is confessing to someone who’s engaged while crying.

“No, boss, of course not. I thought we agreed to put it behind us.”

“I thought we did too,” he says, sighing and standing with his hands on his waist. “Then what’s this about? I mean, do you want… a raise? What can I-”

“No no no, please don’t think that way. I applied for a Literary Arts Masters’ at Brown University,” Doyoung’s remains bewildered. “I want to be a writer, and, I want to study for it.”

Doyoung inhales shakily. “I mean, I know you wanted to write, but… You should have told me about this. I would’ve written you a letter of recommendation…”

“Well I got in,” she shrugs and smiles, “and… I want to do it. I’ll be admitted in the fall, so I’m moving soon.”

It’s almost like she can see the gears shifting in Doyoung’s head, the mental calculations as apparent. “Is that what you wanted to tell me on Monday? When you came into my office, is that the, well,” he licks his lips, “more technical reason why you can’t come to my wedding?”

Not entirely, she thinks. “Well, it’s one of them.”

Doyoung settles himself back into his chair, absentmindedly rearranging the stationery on his desk. “I don’t want a new assistant.”

Her heart sinks. “I know you’re stressed. I’m sorry, and… this feels irresponsible, that I didn’t tell you this earlier. Thing is, I didn’t really believe I would get in, and I got my letter so late, so now I only have the next three months…” She pauses, realizing that none of this should be important in the discussion. “That’s why I’m giving you a month’s notice instead of the required two weeks, I’m sorry that this is what I can only leave you with, but I want to help as much as I can. I swear, boss, I’ll get handovers done as best as I can, whether the recruitment is internal or external, I’ll make sure the transition is as smooth as possible for you-”

“No, I mean…” Doyoung stands up, the pinstripes of his suit bouncing against the light as he does, and walks slowly towards Haewon, standing right in front of her.

“I don’t want to lose you.”

If there's anything she'll miss, it's how Doyoung always leaves her breathless. The sincerity in his eyes twinkling like unshed tears, the way he just looks softly at her like this, his lips pursed tightly and making the small, almost unnoticeable scar by the corner of his lips more prominent. This is the Doyoung that makes her heart soar, an unspoken tenderness dancing across his features. But with this Doyoung also comes an unmistakable truth glaring right back at her.

“No one is irreplaceable, Doyoung,” she starts, a lump rising in her throat, “especially not me. And I think it’s clear that this week has proven that we are no longer able to work together properly because of my feelings and the awkwardness that it has caused.”

“I was trying to give you space-”

“I don’t need space, Doyoung!”

“What was I supposed to say? What am I supposed to say, Haewon? I’m engaged!”

He looks at her for a long time, then sighs and turns away exasperatedly, tears darting in his eyes.

And there it is - the bubble that has popped, the pink elephant in the room. Because the truth is, from start to finish, as selfish and morally repugnant as it is, Haewon had foolishly hoped for a future with this man somehow in some way, even when it had never been possible.

“You’re right,” Haewon feels her eyes sting, but she has promised herself that she is not going to cry in front of Doyoung ever again. They aren’t close enough for that.

“No, you’re right, I’m sorry, I don't know what I was expecting, why I said what I said.” She shakes her head, attempting to breathe again.

“Besides, your engagement isn’t the only thing standing in the way of anything happening between us.”

Doyoung looks up immediately. “What do you mean by that?”

Haewon winces and swallows, unwilling to spell it out. “I mean, you don’t… feel the same way, at all.”

There comes a point when things are undeniable and can't be hidden any longer, even from yourself.

“I never should have told you about it,” her voice comes out as a whisper this time, unintentionally intimate.

“I’m sorry - even with everything that I said that day, it only occurred to me after, how truly stupid and inappropriate it was… in the office, no less.” Doyoung begins to shake his head, but she continues. “I don't have an excuse for it, I’m sorry - but I swear I’m not… for the lack of a better word, punishing you or anyone else with my resignation. Even before telling you, I was bent on moving overseas for the degree. So Doyoung, you really don’t have to feel guilty or anything - you don’t owe me anything, I shouldn’t have said anything.

“At the same time… The chance for me to pursue my dream is too rare to give up on.

“You’ve done so well before I came into your life, you’re gonna be okay.”

Doyoung averts his gaze away once again, putting his hands into his pockets, and alternating between resting his weight on his left and right foot.

“You’re wrong, you know, you’ve never been more wrong.”

“I’m sorry?”

He finally looks up, his eyes filled with sadness enough to keep Haewon from taking a step out of his office. Outside, phones are ringing and people are talking, noisy and continuous and completely unaware. But here, there is a Doyoung who looks at her like she could break easily, as he contemplates whether or not the next words have to be said, if at all.

“You said no one is irreplaceable, but you’re irreplaceable to me.”

It’s finally down to the last week of her work - and a part of Haewon feels guilty to admit that it is a relief.

This is what Doyoung and Haewon has been reduced to - two people who would rather send each other emails than talk face-to-face, even if it’s about work. On the bright side - if there is one - the diminished duties mean that Haewon has been given ample time to interview, recruit and train Doyoung’s new assistant - a dogged 25-year-old fresh graduate with a double major in Journalism and Communications who has an unhealthy obsession with cars, whom the younger estrogen-infused female interns label “daddy material”.

“Ready?” Johnny smiles as he shoves his keys in his pants pocket.

She slides her bag across her shoulder and looks at him up and down. “Johnny, you’re not ready.”

“Oh right! Shit,” Johnny mumbles to himself, rushing to his room to get his shirt.

It’s 8.25am, which means that Johnny’s definitely going to be late, since he’ll drop Haewon off at her office first, but Johnny doesn’t really seem to care. She laughs to herself, picking up her phone just as a message notification chimes.

Haewon, I’m so sorry I can’t tell you this myself, but I will be on personal leave for the entire week. I know you’re mostly done with handovers and training Jeno, but I’ll need you to hold the fort for this last week - just check your email, you’ll understand everything. I’m so sorry I can’t be here for your last week. Thank you.

Personal leave? What kind of emergency would-

“Haewon!” Johnny jogs out of his room, his phone and shirt in his hands. “Did you know?”

His eyes are wide with shock, his mouth open. He swallows, taking in Haewon’s equally baffled expression.

“I just got a call from my Mom. The wedding’s off…”

xx

w/n: dear friends, please do not zone out in meetings. it doth not helpeth thee.

also, johnny is a giant teddy bear

come scream at me!! here :-)

[florenceandthemachine]

so i binged all of 911 over the span of like four days and now i can’t stop thinking about paramedic/firefighter jackson (whichever you prefer, both are Very Good) and police sergeant stiles help me

leave it to @jacksonstilinskis to come up with the truly transcendent asks. Because as much as you KNOW I love a paramedic (or any medical field) Jackson, I actually bought a 2020 Firefighters Holding Kittens calendar (that’s a link, I really hope it worked). So you know that’s all I’m picturing. 

Whats even funnier, though, is the fact that Stiles (who would look damn good in his LAPD uniform) absolutely fucking HATE Jackson in the beginning, in a way that would go way past the typical “police vs fire” rivalry. 

It would have started with an attempt at a friendly greeting, a smooth dismissal, something about a fire bug, Jackson’s offhand comments about cops and doughnuts, but that would all have been fine. It would have taken one offhand comment about Stiles’ father (”back in Beacon County? how has he not been shot yet?”) and that would have been it—Stiles would have had an enemy for life. 

Their first post-hatred, on the job interaction would be at the scene of a pretty violent assault—Stiles would have the victim curled up on the front steps of her building, a shock blanket over her shoulders, sitting beside her as Scott finishes taping the area off, while Kira and her team took pictures of everything they could inside—the dents in the walls, the broken window, overturned furniture, everything.

Stiles would have called for some paramedic assistance—the girl had cuts over her palms and a pretty deep laceration on her shoulder, but it was nothing compared to the corpse in the living room. He would be doing his best to try and comfort her, but there was no easy way to say “hey, it’s okay, I’m a great shot, so your abusive husband didn’t suffer when I blew his brains out!”.

Fire would have been on scene before any ambulance or paramedics, which made sense—they were all trained in first aid anyway—and Stiles would have felt his heart fucking sink when Whittemore stepped out of the truck, because the last thing he needed was this asshole with a jaw made of marble and a heart made of coal fucking with this poor girl. 

But then Whittemore is crouched down, and he’s speaking slowly to her, softly, and suddenly she’s letting him stitch up her arm, and Stiles is almost dizzy with how quick things have snapped around. 

So Whittemore could be nice to civilians. That was.... decent of him.

Their next on the job interaction isn’t on the job at all, which is almost funny. Stiles walks into the bank in his civvies and gets in line behind a very, very nice ass. 

It’s wiggling, for fucks sake, as the owner moves his hips ever so slightly to whatever music is playing through a white pair of earbuds. Stiles allows himself all of three minutes to stare before he realizes that that ass is attached to a nearly perfect V of a gorgeous torso... clad in an LAFD tee shirt.

All beneath a blond, cropped haircut, that—unfortunately—Stiles would recognize anywhere.

Stiles isn’t sure what he hates more—the fact that he’s been blatantly ogling a fireman, or the fact that he was ogling Whittemore, for fucks sake—but, thankfully (unfortunately?) his attention doesn’t linger for long. 

At the front of the line, there’s a man standing in a dark coat and jeans, rolling on the balls of his feet—and if the anxious motions weren’t enough to give him away, the panicked smile on the tellers face was enough to set him on high alert.

Sure enough, he only had a half minute to wait before there was a flash of metal, and he pushed back from his heels as he let out a shout. The distraction worked, thankfully—the would-be robber spun on his heel, the teller dove beneath the counter, and Stiles had his arms around Whittemore’s shoulders, throwing him to the floor as a bullet rang out above them. 

His heel may have dug into the firemans leg as he sprung forward, but he’d apologize for that later—his shoulder connected with the mans abdomen and they were both down on the ground in a tussle of arms and legs, Stiles gripping at his wrist, forcing him to unload the gun into the marble flooring of the bank. 

It felt like the struggle lasted an hour, but in less than a second Stiles had the man pinned, gun knocked far from his hand, and Whittemore—fucking finally—had his earbuds out, speaking in rapid fire tones to what Stiles assumed was the local Los Angeles dispatchers.

The good news, no one was hurt. That was the only good news, he decided, as he started to take stock of things when the on-duty officers took over the scene.

The bad news, it was Stiles day off, and now he had about a ton of paperwork to fill out. He fucking hated paperwork. 

Plus his arm hurt.

Plus, he was still mad at himself for spending a chunk of his morning staring at Whittemore’s ass. 

So, needless to say, when he felt eyes drilling into his head, he didn’t have the most pleased expression on his face as he turned.

Whittemore was smirking at him from across the room, eyes dragging over Stiles now-rumpled form, and somehow that made Stiles even more grumpy.

Somehow, knowing that the fire fighting dickwad was checking him out after taking down an armed robber did little to boost his mood.

—

Their third encounter was somehow the most dangerous.

Which was ironic, considering their last encounter had involved a fully loaded gun fired at them.

Stiles, being the great person that he was, had offered to switch duties with Scott for a week so Scott could spend time with Allison (in all reality, he did anything that he could in order to get Scott to shut the fuck up about his perfect love life).

No good deed went unpunished, though, because Stiles was now stuck on evidence duty.

No good deed definitely went unpunished, because less than twenty minutes after he logged “attache case, locked, recovered from Union Station” and he had slid it on the shelf next to “axe, bloody” and “Argent, bank records” when the case started to smoke.

The evidence hall was cramped—it was this tiny, narrow space, full of clothing, papers, baggage, weapons, and it didn’t take long for a huge portion of it to go up in flame. Stiles, bless his heart, was a fucking idiot, because immediately threw himself over the smoking suitcase to try and save some of the evidence in the shelving behind it. The Argent dossier had taken he and his team months to fully compile, and while most of the data was backed up on several servers brought the district, these bank records were the latchkey to the entire case—and he would be damned if a suddenly incendiary briefcase took that work away from them.

Stiles was almost thankful when he heard the fire alarm go off... and was less thankful when he beat the flame off of a folder of paper, kicked open the door to the bullpen, and—

—immediately came face to flame with a wall of fire. 

It was probably foolish to assume that his own little firebox was the only incendiary device left in the building—anyone desperate enough to burn some evidence certainly wouldn’t leave it all to one briefcase—and he would have been really upset with himself if he wasn’t launched straight into panic. 

Shoving the file into his shirt, he threw himself to the floor, ducking low beneath the smoke that was quickly filling the floor. He could go for one of the extinguishers along the far wall of the building, but new fires were popping up everywhere he looked—through the vents in the floor, from a desk in the pen, and Stiles could already feel his lungs heavy with smoke as he made his way to a stairwell. 

The handle was hot, but the stairs were his only option—and he tried to keep himself as low as he could as the smoke pooled into the stairwell, his chest tightening as he suppressed a coughing fit.

As he descended the first flight, he only had a moment to be thankful that he had switched shifts with Scott—with his asthma, Scott would have been unconscious five minutes ago... and wasn’t that a terrifying thought.

Not that Stiles was faring much better. He was less than halfway down to the main floor when his head started to swim, smoke clinging to his clothing and soot singed to his flesh. He had tears streaming down his face as he finally burst through the main floor door, and was thankful that he was already crawling on the ground, because he couldn't have stood if he tried.

Even crawling was hard.

His eyes were completely blurred, burning, and he still had two rooms and the main hall to go through before he was home free, and he didn’t even know if he could make it to the doorframe, and suddenly, his body was swung into the air, a pair of arms tight beneath his knees, moving incredibly fast—seriously, what the fuck—out of the building. 

He clung to what felt like a brick wall, somehow knowing exactly who was beneath the helmet, coat, respirator, mask, and other loads of gear. He was honestly thankful that Whittemore was wearing so many layers, because as soon as they hit the cool air, Stiles took a huge, greedy breath in, and immediately retched. His lips were stained with soot and bile as he tried to prop himself up, the world swimming in and out of focus as he was unceremoniously dropped down onto a gurney, an oxygen mask fitted over his face. 

By the time the world was clear again, Stiles had some soot cleaned off of his arm where an IV was stuck into his arm, he was gulping down oxygen like it was going out of style, and if he hadn’t just come dangerously close to being a human marshmallow he would have laughed when he finally found Jackson in the crowd.

He was standing at attention, looking as perfect as ever, but had an expression that was very alike to a kicked puppy—standing stock straight as his fire chief (a truly terrifying man named Hale) shouted at him. Stiles couldn’t be too upset, really—Jackson had just saved his life, after all (and huh, when had Whittemore become Jackson?), but his lungs were still charred and his chest was too heavy to laugh.

His chest was really, heavy, actually.

And just like that, the files stuffed into his shirts burst forth into his mind. 

The poor medic (a beautiful man with beautiful dimples that Stiles would have been flirting with, helplessly, if he could catch his breath) probably thought he was having a seizure as he started smacking him in the arm, but thankfully the desperation in his eyes must have translated universally, because Danny (even his name was cute) was waving Jackson, Hale, and Stiles’ captain over.

Seriously, Lydia managed to look beautiful, even in her pajamas, her captain’s badge draped on a chain around her neck. She was the first to yell at Stiles for trying to take his mask off—with Jackson right behind her—but thankfully, they all shut up once Stiles slapped the folder from his shirt into her hands, the red “ARGENT” across the charred manilla getting everyone’s attention.

The last thing that Stiles sees is Lydia’s shocked expression, Hale’s muted fury, and... Jacksons cool, grey eyes.

Except they’re electric blue.

Blue?

He passes out.

—

When Stiles regains consciousness in the hospital, Jackson is there. Jackson asks why Stiles saved that file in particular, and Stiles fires back, asking what the fuck was going on with Jackson’s eyes, and they’re both silent for the rest of the night as Stiles swims back in and out of sleep.

Stiles is immediately pulled off the case, and put onto desk work, stuck at the 43rd Precinct while their building is getting cleared by the fire marshal.

The plus side—the only plus side—is that Jackson hovers. If he didn’t know any better, he might have suspected foul play—Stiles was the only officer reassigned to the 43rd, which happened to be painfully close to Jackson’s fire house. 

Weirdly enough, he wasn’t complaining. 

Jackson keeps dancing around him, giving him exaggerated looks, like he thinks Stiles is in on some big secret, and Stiles normally would have been absolutely livid about it—but somehow, Jackson makes it adorable.

Subtlety may not usually be Stiles’ strong point, but he can make it work when he needs to, and his interactions with Jackson proved that. Hale was a good topic, he learns—Jackson lights up when Stiles asks how his team is doing, and brings in lunch for them both the next day. Stiles takes note.

Work is a good topic. Stiles mentions that they caught a mole—a janitor named Daehler, who was caught on camera planting a few of the firebombs in their building, and had financial ties to Argent out the asshole. They’re finally, finally moving to prosecute—and Jackson looks like he’s so happy he could cry, even though Jackson really has no... reason to be. 

At least, not that Stiles knows.

He’s still watching, processing paperwork, and he’s proud of his detective work, okay? So he’s almost embarrassed when he’s totally blindsided by Jackson one Tuesday afternoon.

“Stiles, what are you doing on Saturday the 28th?”

“Hmm? Nothing, Lyds gave me weekends off—”

“You know she hates it when you call her Lyds.”

“—to make up for taking me off the case. Why?”

“I want to invite you to the Firemen's Ball.”

“You—what?”

Holy fuck, was Jackson actually asking him out?

“The Fireman's Ball.” Jackson says, slower, rolling his eyes like he was explaining it to a child. “Chief Hale wants you there, as a guest.”

Stiles feels his heart slow a little, his face flushing red, the embarrassment of his immediate assumption just an afterthought in the next few seconds. “Oh, uh, sure, I can do that. You know inter departmental unity and all. Sounds fun!” he said, forcing a smile, and Jackson just grinned back at him lazily. Stiles distracted himself by taking a far too big bite of the sandwiches Jackson had brought up for lunch.

Fucker.

“Good.” Jackson said, still wearing the same shit eating grin. He stood and swung his coat over his shoulder—free of soot, Stiles was pleased to note (and hated how happy he was)—and started walking backwards out of the precinct. “And for the record, if Chief didn’t ask me to ask you, I would have asked you myself. Just so you know.” he said, winking as he turned and pushed through the door, leaving Stiles to choke on his sandwich.

He actually winked.

Fucker.

—

Decked out in his dress blues, pins and insignia tacked proudly to his chest, Stiles was actually a little proud of himself for feeling so proud, even as he parked his cruiser in-between several fire and rescue SUV’s.

He looked damn fine in his dress uniform, if he did say so himself, and Lydia had helped him style his hair and even talked him into a neutral lip and a darker brow (she was more excited than he was, and she wasn’t even going). Point is, he looked damned good, and felt a small thrill of excitement when Jackson met him at the entrance to the hall. 

“Hang on, we... we can’t go in yet, I have to wait for.... Stilinski, you look amazing.” Jackson almost purred, and Stiles felt pride pool in his belly—and no small amount of arousal—as he did a quick turn, letting Jackson take in every angle. The low thrill only grew when Jackson offered him his arm, checking his watch as Stiles slipped his arm into Jackson’s own, letting Jackson push the door open for them... and apparently, right in the middle of a speech, because—

“...thanks to his brave work, putting the people before his own wellbeing, we now have a family of serial arsonists behind bars. Give it up for our guest of honor, Detective Mieczysław Stilinski!”

And then people were clapping, and Stiles was honestly too shocked to move—thankfully, Jackson was beaming bright enough for the both of them steering Stiles effortlessly across the floor. 

“Breathe, dipshit.”

Stiles sucked in a breath as Jackson guided them to their seats, which was VERY near the front of the hall, a nervous smile finally making its way onto his face as Jackson pulled out a chair for him. 

“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t think you would come—” which, fair point, “—and you don't have to give a speech or anything—” another very fair point, “—and the Chief and the Argents have had bad blood since one of them burned Derek’s family alive in his childhood home, so he wanted to express his gratitude.”

Which... holy fuck. Stiles did his best to keep his expression under control as his eyes snapped to Derek, but he must have failed, because Derek’s press-smile slipped into one of actual gratitude, tilting his head as he rose a drink in Stiles’ direction.

The night went by in a blur. Jackson introduced him to the rest of his company, Stiles got a very fancy piece of glass with his name on it (spelled correctly, even!), the dinner was superb. He told some of his better work stories, including the one where he and Jackson had almost been involved in a bank robbery—and pretended he didn’t love the feeling of Jackson squeezing his arm at the table while he laughed.

Eventually, the night died down, until it was just Jackson’s company left, crowded around the last set table in the hallway, laughing and cheering as they swapped stories and compared scars (a busty firefighter named Erica was, by far, the champion there, with a wickedly impressive burn on full display in a gorgeous, backless dress). 

At some point in the evening, Derek had joined them at the table, laughing along with everyone else as he sat. When he stood, though, the rest of them immediately quieted down—it was like a switch had been flipped—and Stiles felt that laser like focus aimed to him when Derek caught his eyes.

“Stiles...” and god, what a relief that it had taken next to no time to talk them all out of calling him Mieczysław, fucking seriously. “... I know that this was all... a little unexpected for you, but I want to thank you personally, for how well you are doing with all of this.” he said, gesturing to the table at large, and Jackson was fucking preening next to him, even as Stiles was a bit clueless. After all, it was just a dinner, right?

He waved Derek’s thanks aside, smiling himself, feeling a little more comfortable as he shrugged it off. “I don’t need thanks, you know that. Any good person would have acted the same. The only hardship for me has been hanging out with Jackson.” he said offhandedly, and Derek laughed again, even as Jackson pouted.

“You’re modest, and that’s okay. But still—it only seems right that given the circumstances, we show our gratitude. Stiles...” and suddenly Derek’s gaze was almost hypnotic, burning into him. “...we wanted to give you the opportunity to join us. It’s rare we find someone so worthy so quickly, and it would be an absolute honor to have you.” he said, and something.... felt off.

He loved being a cop. He always loved being a cop—and while he couldn’t certainly understand the appeal of being a firefighter, he would never leave his precinct. Not willingly, at least. He stumbled over his words when he tried to explain this to Derek—well, more to Jackson, really, but the look of confused humor on Jackson’s face was not the expected result. 

“Stilinski...” he started, in the same tone he used whenever he was describing an incredibly simple task to a brick-brained Stiles over lunch, “...we’re not asking you to become a firefighter. We’re asking you if you want to be able to join... us.” he said, and Stiles would have been frustrated if he didn’t give him a slow blink, his eyes suddenly an electric blue once again.

Uh.

“Jackson...”

Stiles turned away, trying to confirm what he was seeing—and Erica stared back at him with golden eyes. And she wasn’t the only one. There were a few more golds, a few more blue, and Derek, with burning, intense red eyes. 

“What the fuck is going on?”

—

Werewolves.

Derek had immediately pulled him aside, out of the main hall, and Jackson was close behind. He had explained everything—or, “as much as he could”, when they were safely away from any hall staff, and Stiles felt his head swimming with new information. 

Fucking werewolves.

And, apparently, hunters. And kanimas. And magic, and rituals, and more than Stiles could even begin to process.

And then Derek said he would give them some time to talk, and just... left them.

Jackson, for his credit, looked like a kicked puppy. He had explained that he thought Stiles knew from the very beginning, and just hadn’t bothered to confirm it—they were usually in public, around sensitive ears and prying eyes, and Jackson thought he had confirmed it all as well as he could nonverbally.

He was still a wreck, though, and Stiles decided to finally just head that off at the pass. 

“Jackson, if you apologize again, I’m going to punch you in the face.” he said, and Jackson’s—still blue—eyes widened in surprise. “So you’re a werewolf. I can... work with that. All in all, this is not the worst first date I’ve been on.” he said as he kept pacing, and Jackson’s jaw dropped.

Stiles had been trying to go for levity, but as Jackson stared at him, he felt his own nerves start to bubble up. “Well, if you don't want, I mean—”

“Stiles, this is our third date.”

“What?”

“First date was when you moved me out of the way of a fucking bullet, which I now realize you didn’t know I would heal from immediately. Second date... well, pick any of the lunches I brought for you, even though I now realize you didn’t know I was kind of... providing for you. This is the third date. At least. Maybe fourth.”

It was Stiles turn to gape, and he did his best to ignore the fluttering in his stomach. He took a steadying breath and slouched down next to where Jackson was sitting on the floor.

“Look, we still have a lot to talk about. Like, for one, I’m going to be keeping my humanity” Stile started, and that was the understatement of the century. “...but, if this is our third date, does that mean you're finally going to kiss me goodnight?” he asks, and Jackson laughs, letting his hand tangle with Stiles as they sit on the floor. 

When they finally rejoin the rest of the team, Derek looks cautious around him, but Stiles doesn’t care. They’re probably going to have to have their own long talk later, but for the moment, Jackson is smiling at him, and that’s all that he cares about. 

(When they walk back to Stiles’ cruiser, Jackson kisses him goodnight.

With tongue. And fangs.

Everything really was going to be alright.)

[wienerbarnes]

Whatever It Takes (3/6)

Pairing: Bucky x Doctor!Reader

Word Count: 2,069

Prompt: Doctor AU

Warnings: More medical talk, some ~flirting~

A/N: sorry for the late post! i got home late yesterday and completely forgot but here it is now!!! officially halfway done :) 

SERIES MASTERLIST

“This iodine will help with your thyroid.” Dr. Curtis informs the now awake patient. She hangs the IV bag on the hook and moves away from the bed once it’s attached. You’ve since removed your blazer and shoes, assuming you should get comfortable with the state of John.

“We should celebrate! With a beer,” You begin, pacing around the room.

“I don’t drink.” John croaks from the bed.

“Me thinks he doth protest too much.” You joke from your position on the other side of the hospital room, facing the small window with a view of the outside.

“Why would he lie if he’s deathly ill?” Curtis asks, clearly annoyed with your antics.

“Guilt over killing a man?” You guess.

“We don’t kill people.” John says, head turning to look at you with his tired eyes.

“Right,” You begin as you walk over closer to the bed, “You only, lie to your family and friends, establish fake identities, trick people into betraying their country; he’d never cover up the fact that he drinks!” You exaggerate as you rearrange your legs in a more comfortable position.

“Quick question though, the red lipstick that Ginger used to kill Gilligan. Why didn’t that kill her?” John rolls his eyes at you and Curtis stares at you in disbelief and you look between the two of them, waiting for an answer.

…

A couple of hours pass before Bucky and Dr. Banner meet you and Dr. Curtis in John’s room again. You sit on the cushioned chair beside the bed and Dr. Curtis sits on the couch on the opposite side of the room. Bucky notices you eating from a small container of macaroni and cheese, blazer laid at over the arm rest of the chair, and bare feet folded under you as you’ve obviously gotten comfortable. Your hair is loosely tied back and a few strands fall around your face. He doesn’t realize you’ve caught him staring but quickly clears his throat and looks at Banner, who is flipping through the original chart and looking at John’s current vitals.

“He’s stabilizing.” Banner states, reviewing John’s current vitals with the original vitals listed in the chart from when he was first admitted.

“And the tummy ache is gone.” You add, taking in another spoonful of macaroni.

“Treatment is working.” Dr. Curtis stands, a small, proud grin rising on her face.

Bucky looks at you again to see you giving a weird glance at Dr. Curtis. What does that face mean? Bucky thinks. It’s not a face of guilt, but you definitely look like you’ve been up to something. You meet his gaze again and smile.

“Hey, Sarg, wanna hop on that jet and take a trip down Mexico Way? And I’m not talking about the country or the plane.” You tease, another spoonful of pasta disappearing between your lips. How unchaste, he thinks to himself as he tries his hardest to keep from blushing.

“Do you think flirting like an idiot will get you anywhere with guys?” Bucky asks, playful smile creeping up on his face, indulging in your remarks.

“Well, if it didn’t, the human race probably would’ve died out a long time ago.”

“You’re awfully chipper for someone who’s just had their pancreatitis theory disproved.” Curtis interrupts. The sparkle in your eye that you’ve been giving Bucky disappears and that same look from before returns to your features.

“Actually, I’m awfully chipper for someone who’s being proved right.” Banner looks up at you when you say this, a puzzled look on his face.

“John hasn’t vomited in six hours.” Banner argues.

“What is there to vomit? I’m eating his lunch.” You hold up the container of nearly finished macaroni and cheese and place it on the nightstand next to where you’re sitting before standing up.

“Withholding nutrients is the treatment for pancreatitis. That, and the antibiotics I put him on when you went to the bathroom.” You explain, gesturing to Dr. Curtis.

“You’re unbelievable!” Dr. Curtis exclaims.

“Well, why don’t you ask John if he’d rather die honestly or be cured dishonestly?” You reply.

“John?” Banner asks, noticing how John’s body seems a little more slumped than before.

Banner moves forward to lift John’s eyelids and shine a small flashlight into them, checking for any response. The heart monitor is still beeping, meaning he’s still alive, but he’s unmoving.

“Any chance he’s just overwhelmed with gratitude?” You ask.

…

“You should be brought up on charges!” Curtis accuses you.

“Okay, okay, I’ll take your book from under my piano.”

John is now awake after being fed a shot of adrenaline. And Dr. Curtis is not happy with you. But was she ever?

“He is dying of radiation poisoning!” She bursts.

“Why are you yelling?” You ask calmly, walking up to John’s bed.

“All of this could’ve been avoided if you hadn’t interfered with-“ Curtis is cut off by John’s yelp as you pull harshly on his hair. Bucky even stops his pacing at the sound and looks at you for explanation.

“What are you doing?!” Curtis yells.

“Radiation sickness kills different cells at different times. Meaning his hair should be falling out in clumps before his body starts writhing in pain. And since it’s not,” You explain, holding up your empty palm.

You glance at Bucky and then to Dr. Banner, who no longer looks so worried about whether or not you might be absolutely mad.

“It’s blood cancer. Waldenstrom’s.” You diagnose.

“Unless you can tell me if he’s been involved in any foul play, like torturing Bolivians…” You trail off and send a hopeful look towards Bucky. “Can’t you treat for both?” Bucky asks, a defeated look on his face. His brain is exhausted from hearing different diagnosis after diagnosis, and he doesn’t even understand any of the medical talk that comes out of anyone’s mouth.

Truth be told, Stark and Banner had only asked him to track you down and retrieve you for your help in fixing John. He could go back to his regular playing around with Sam, but you’ve caught his attention. At first he was a bit annoyed at you; he couldn’t believe that someone so goofy could be a doctor. But your interesting personality has grown on him over the past couple of hours that you’ve been here.

“Unless you’re the one that’s trying to poison him.” You reply.

Bucky looks to Dr. Banner for help. “I’ll arrange for Plasmapheresis and Chemotherapy.” He finally spits out before walking out of the room.

Bucky goes to follow but Dr. Curtis stops him, “You’re really going to trust her after what she did?” She asks, shock evident in her voice. Bucky meets your eyes.

“I don’t have to trust her to agree with her.” Bucky replies before finally exiting the room.

…

It’s deep into the evening when John is finally put on his new treatment. Dr. Curtis has stepped out to grab some food and Dr. Banner has returned to his office, still checking in every once in a while. You and Bucky are the ones that remain while John is asleep from the drowsiness caused by the medicine. Bucky watches from the end of the bed as you attach a new bag to the IV hook and press a few buttons on a machine next to the bed.

“So, now that all the medical mumbo-jumbo is over with,” You begin as you turn around to face him. “What do you say we head back to your place and you show me a few enhanced interrogation techniques?” You offer while slowly striding towards him; Bucky’s right eyebrow lifting at your implication.

He smirks as you continue, “My safe word is ‘Help, please, please, stop.’ That’s two ‘please’s, otherwise you keep going.” You inform with a wink.

“Maybe if you cure this guy, I’ll show you my private water board.” He teases back. An almost animalistic grin spreads across your face at his teasing as you move even closer, chests almost touching as Bucky looks down into your eyes.

“You know I have a position available. At my hospital. My personal assistant.” You whisper, breath fanning Bucky’s face and the hair on the back of his neck raise.

“You offering me a job?”

“I can bet you the pay’s better.” You lie, as if you have the funds to pay him higher than whatever an Avengers paycheck consists of, fingers slowly tracing up his right forearm. “And there’s less bad guys to fight.”

“I like it here.” Bucky chuckles, hands raising to rest themselves on either side of your upper arms

You bite your lip and Bucky’s eyes immediately move to fix on your plump, pink lips. You open your mouth to continue and a beeping noise from Bucky’s front left pocket interrupts you as Bucky pulls one arm away to pull out his phone.

“Duty calls.” He says softly, before backing away from you and exiting the room.

…

Bucky finally finds Sam in the smaller common room after running around the entire compound looking for him.

“What’s the emergency?” Bucky asks, not understanding why Sam would be sitting in the common room with his feet propped up if there was actually something wrong.

“I know what you’ve been up to, you sly, sly dog.” Sam accuses, teasing smile on his face.

“What?” Bucky asks; he’s seriously confused now.

“You’re trying to sauce it up with the doctor lady!” Sam stands and shoves a finger in Bucky chest and the blush begins to creep up his neck.

“What?! N-no I’m not, what are you talking about?” Bucky denies.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., why don’t show Tin-Man over here what you showed me when I asked you where he was at.” Sam commands.

Projected on the screen is you and Bucky from about five minutes ago. Faces close together, your arms trailing up from his wrists to rest on his shoulders before trailing back down again. He sees how his hands twitch at his side in the video, God, how he wanted to wrap his arms around you so badly.

“Man, are you blushing? God damn, get a hold of yourself!” Sam snaps him out of his trance of thinking about what all your curves feel like underneath his hands.

“Nothing’s going on, alright? Just lay off.” Bucky says before leaving the room again.

He storms back to the elevators to go back to his room for a while. Maybe he’ll be able to get his head in order with some time away from you? He hasn’t felt this way about a girl in he doesn’t even know how long. A part of him didn’t think he’d ever find someone he actually likes like that - he didn’t even think he was capable of feeling that kind of emotion anymore.

Bucky knows he’s different. Bucky knows he’s not Bucky. Bucky died when he fell from that train. He doesn’t really know who he is now. He’s missed out on so much in his life, watching his sisters grow up, getting a long career, taking care of his mother, getting married and having kids, so many inventions and societal changes; sometimes he’s just lost. And there’s not too many people around willing to explain things to him. Sure, he has no problem figuring things out on his own, but every once in a while he just wishes he knew things from the beginning. Like his feelings.

His last girlfriend is probably dead now and it’s not like he’s had any practice recently.

When he’s around you, he feels - light. Airy. Freer. Like he can do anything he wants. And he feels like he wants to do things with you. Take you places. Do things for you, even though you don’t seem to need anybody for anything. He wants to see what you look like on a date. What you look like when you get a nice surprise. What you look like when you wake up in the morning. Or when you get out of the shower. Or when your shopping for something. He likes seeing that smirk on your face when you throw some witty insult at Dr. Curtis. He likes seeing the flirty sparkle in your eye when you tease him and make him blush; he’ll let you make him blush forever if it means he gets to see that face on you.

That’s all gotta mean something, right?

TAG LIST: @gagmebucky @thefvcker-tucker @hannie-writes-marvel @angel-fire @jaamesbbarnes @sgtjbuccky @unicorniorosacomefrutillas @creepylittlemarvelgirl @spiderrpcrker @mywinterwolf

[captain-kingliamsqueen]

Good Behaviour? Yeah right! - Until We Meet Again - Part 6

A lot Shorter than usual but I hope you guys enjoy it!!

Pairing: Liam x MC

Summary: …DISTANCE MEANS SO LITTLE, WHEN SOMEONE MEANS SO MUCH!

When King Liam manages to break free from his Marriage to madeleine and takes a trip to new York for the biggest UN event of the century. What happens when his suitcase doesn’t make it to new York with him. when a stranger comes to his rescue to find appropriate clothing for the Event. What happens when he meets the woman of his dreams but she already has a home along with a Multi-billion dollar business in New York. 

Word Count: 1,702

Masterlist

 ASK IF YOU WANT TAGGED! SORRY IF I MISSED ANYONE!

I always notice every single spelling mistake or issue after I’ve posted…so apologies in advance! 

Apologies if the tags aren’t working, for some reason some are working and some aren’t :/

After Liam left for Cordonia, Kayliegh couldn’t stop thinking about their conversation that morning…moving to Cordonia…could she do it? could she really leave Allie? As soon as she managed to calm herself down after being so upset at him leaving, she sat on the sofa in the living room, going over everything in her head. she lifted her phone from beside her and dialled Allies number. The ringtone dialled a couple of times before Allie answered.

“Hey, sis, what’s up?”

“Hey, are you busy?”

“no, I have the day off, why? Do you have something in mind?”

“I wanna talk to you about something…”

“that sounds serious, is everything okay?”

“yeah, everything’s great…I just…I need to talk to you…so can you come over?”

“of course, I’ll be over in the next hour, shall I bring Chinese food?”

“definitely”

After hanging up with Allie, Kayliegh headed to her office to get some of her work done. It was about forty-five minutes later that Allie buzzed the gate to get in. the two headed for the living room, where they dove into their food that Allie brought with her.

“so come on, tell me, what had you all caught up on the phone?”

“so…Liam and I were talking this morning”

“alright?”

“and the topic came to us…living together”

“alright…wow, that is serious…so what do you think about that?”

“the only thing I want more than to live with Liam…is to be near you Allie, if Liam and I lived together…I would have to go Cordonia…and that would mean -”

“leaving New York” Allie finished her sentence

“yeah…I don’t know if I could do that, Al, I…my life is here...you are here”

“and what did Liam say when you told him that?”

“he said that…if I were to move to Cordonia, I would have an office and everything for work, I would have access to the private jet whenever I wanted…he said you could visit whenever you wanted, all you would have to do is ask and he would have the jet fly over to get you. I wouldn’t have to sell this place or anything, whenever we came over, we would stay here”

“well, then what’s the problem” Allie giggled as she placed her hand on Kayliegh’s knee.

“Allie, you’re my baby sister…you mean more to me than anyone on this entire planet!!”

“Kayliegh, you have spent your entire life, looking out for me, I will be forever grateful for that, but I’m a big girl, I’ll be fine, I promise.”

“but-”

“but nothing…put it this way…if you don’t…what happens…you guys eventually get sick of the goodbyes…one of you breaks the other ones heart because they can’t do it anymore… then you lose him…I know you love him…with everything in you…I have never seen you look at another person the way you and Liam look at each other!...how do you feel when he’s not here…when you’re so far apart?”

“it kills me…”

“exactly…and when he leaves?”

“it hurts even more” she sighed as she wiped under her eyes where the stray tears fell.

“but how do you feel when he’s here?”

“he makes me so happy…Al…just the thought of getting to see him, makes me so happy. Happier than ive ever been”

“then there’s your answer…no question about it…he makes you happy, you know he’s a good man, who would do anything for you…do it…live your life, be happy.”

“you really think I should?”

“I know you should!”

after her talk with Allie, Kayliegh spent the next few days thinking about her decisions…she wanted to do it, and she knew Allie would be okay…she was just scared…after everything that happened with Louis…after could she really uplift her life and move it across the world? Could she take that chance…what if she got there and a few weeks down the line everything went to shit? What if they ended up at each other’s throats? What if being so close really tore them apart.

Well…Liam was worth that risk…and damn did she know it!

She thought Louis was a gentleman before everything went downhill…but Liam…Liam's wasn’t a gentleman…he was THE gentleman! She had never met anyone like it. he was smart, handsome, caring, compassionate, selfless…she could rely on him to be there whenever she needed him. She trusted him with everything in her.

It was late on the Thursday night, Kayliegh was in the lounge. after the collection release, she had decided to take a couple of weeks to relax. she had spent the last few hours curled up on the sofa under the blanket, binge watching Reign. She had started to doze off not so long ago, when her phone stared ringing pulling her out of her sleepiness. She stretched as she wiped her eyes, she lifted her phone and pressed answer.

“hello?”

“Kayliegh? It’s Anthony”

“Anthony? Hey, is everything okay? It’s really late?”

“Kayliegh, I wanted to make sure you were informed before it went out on the news”

“what is it? what’s wrong?”

“it’s Louis…He’s getting out on good behaviour”

Kayliegh swore her heart nearly stopped right in that moment.

“w-what?” she asked as she tears fell down her cheeks

“I’m so sorry that I have to be the one to tell you…”

“when?”

“Tomorrow…”

“b-but he-”

“I know, I know, I tried to stop it, I really did, but there’s only so much I can do”

“alright…um…thank you Anthony, ill speak to you later”

“stay safe, kayliegh”

“I will”

After hanging up the phone she quickly dialled Liam's number.

“hey, sweetie” he answered

“Liam” she cried, which instantly caught his attention

“hey, hey what’s wrong?”

“Liam, they’re letting him out…they’re letting Louis out”

“they’re what!?!”

“tomorrow…good behaviour apparently!”

“oh, sweetie, I’m so sorry” he sighed

“Liam…he doesn’t know I lost the baby…wha-what if he tries to contact me…what I-”

“hey, shh shh it’s alright, everything’s going to be alright”

“Liam, I’m scared he’s going to come here.”

After hanging up the phone with Liam about an hour later, Kayliegh went around the house, making sure every door and every window was locked then she headed off to bed.

Kayliegh spent the next few days at home, she couldn’t even fathom going out, with he thought of him being out there, she just couldn’t do it. The evening of the Tuesday, she called Liam shortly after climbing into bed, he picked up instantly.

“hey” she whispered

“Hi, Love, how are you?”

“I’m…okay, how are you?”

“I’m good, tired but good”

“So…I’ve been thinking…about the living together conversation…” she smirked

“you have?” he perked up instantly

“I have…I spoke with Allie…I thought it over…”

“and?” he smirked

“and I think you should get that office ready for me”

“really?!? You really want to come and live here with me?”

“I want to spend my life with you Liam, I don’t want to waste any more time apart”

“Kayliegh…I don’t think you know how happy that makes me”

“oh, I know…and I can’t wait…but I have some things you have to agree with me on first.”

“okay…hit me with them”

“I have to come and visit Allie at least four times each year…even if it’s just for a few days”

“okay that’s fine, that’s not a problem at all, the jet is yours whenever you want it”

“you have to promise me…that we’ll have date night once a week…no matter what!”

“I promise…date night ATLEAST once a week!”

“anything else”

“no…not yet anyway” she giggled

“well…you just let me know if you think of anything else.”

“oh, I will”

“what are you up to anyway?”

“I’m in bed, keeping warm…I wish you were here to keep me warm”

“I wish I was there too, just wait, it won’t be long before, we can spend every night together”

“I can’t wait…”

“me too”

“oh! I forgot to tell yo-” Kayliegh stopped mid-sentence “did you hear that Liam?” she whispered

“hear what?”

“that noise”

“no, I didn’t hear anything”

“I thought I heard something…anyway yeah, I for-” she stopped as she heard the noise again.

“what on earth is that?” she sighed

“Kayliegh what’s wrong?”

“there’s a noise coming from downstairs…I’ll be back in a minute…”

“no, Kayliegh, where are you going?”

“I’m going to see what it is” she spoked sounding a little further away as she pulled her slippers on.

“clearly you’ve never seen any scary movie ever!!!” he called as she walked out of the room

Kayliegh made her way downstairs, she walked through the house, double checking the windows and doors. It was when she reached the front door, she stopped…she froze as she seen it sitting slightly ajar. Something was wrong…she specifically remembered locking that door…it had been locked for days…she hadn’t stepped foot out of it since that day that Antony called so there’s was no reason for it to be open.

“Liam! CALL THE POLICE!!!” she yelled hoping he would hear here.

As soon as Liam heard her shout, he called for Bastian, to enter his office.

“yes, your Majesty?” he bowed his head

“contact nypd! There’s something wrong at Kayliegh’s house! She heard noises down stairs, so she went to see what it was…she just screamed for me to the call the police!”

Bastian instantly pulled his phone out and contacted the Police department, after telling them what had happened, they assured him they would send someone over, they told Bastian to make sure they kept the phone connected with Kayliegh.

“Kayliegh? Kayliegh are you there?!” Liam called down the phone.

Liam waited …and waited for a reply, then he heard something.

“Liam!!!...LIAM!!”  her voice screeched

“Kayliegh?! Kayliegh!! WHATS GOING ON?!!”

“Liam HEL-” the screaming was cut off and all that was heard was a loud thud.  

It was just minutes later, Liam heard the Police entering the house.

“WE NEED AN AMBULANCE!! TWENTY-SEVEN-YEAR-OLD FEMALE, UNCONSCIOUS, WHAT LOOKS LIKE A STAB WOUND, PUNCTURED TO THE STOMACH, BLEEDING OUT!”

Liam's heart broke as he listened through the phone, unable to get to her, if only he were there, this might not have happened, she would have had someone with her.

“Bastian” he whispered, not taking his eyes from the phone.

“yes, your Majesty?”

“prepare the jet…I’m going to New York.”

Tagged : @starstruckzonkoperatorbat  @drakelover78  @queencatherynerhys @devineinterventions2 @jayjay879 @kawairinrin  @hopefulmoonobject @flyawayboo  @gardeningourmet  @blackcatkita @syltti78  @theroyalweisme @hhiggs  @mfackenthal  @barbaravalentino @pens-girl-87  @barbaravalentino @umccall71 @darley1101 @crookedslimecreatorpasta @jamjar84 @starstruckpixelberryhistoryvoid @speedyoperarascalparty @katurrade @scarlettedragon @zeniamiii @annekebbphotography @liam-rhys   @perfectprofessorherokid @mynameiskaylabella @marywrites-things @zaffrenotes @cocomaxley @innerpostmentality @alepowell @missevabean @romanticatheart-posts  @smalltalk88 @sarwin85 @lodberg @classylady1234 @liamxs-world @wannabemc2 @thequeenofcronuts @jared2612  @gibbles82 @carabeth @jovialyouthmusic @liamxs-world @blackcoffee85  

[jiminthestreets-bonesinthesheets]

Lost in Translation

Title: Lost in Translation

Fandom: Star Trek

Pairing: Mckirk

Rating: Explicit

Tags: minor character death, hurt, little bit of self destruction, stranded, possible smut down the line

Summary:

    “Attention citizens. This is the crew of the Enterprise asking for your aid. On Stardate 2264.78 a shuttle manned by our captain and fourteen cadets was ambushed by an unknown source and chased out of sight of our ship and into open space. Those cadets as well as our captain, James Tiberius Kirk, are still missing. We are asking anyone with any information on their whereabouts, or regarding the attack, to please contact the Enterprise immediately. Our family would appreciate any assistance you can give.”

AO3 Link

Masterlist

Special Thanks: wanted to give a huge shout out to my girl Katie, AKA @goingknowherewastaken for being a huge inspiration for this fic as well as for being a huge help (especially when it comes to putting up with my frantic ramblings lol) you're awesome boo <3

A/N: So this is a work in progress but it’s basically finished and I’ve been making great headway with this recently, so this will be the first fic I’ve ever finished! Woohoo!! And I’m thinking that I’ll probably stick to a Sunday post schedule.

    Also a little note for y’all to keep in mind while reading. I have tagged this fic “possible eventual smut” and that’s because right now I don’t have any planned buuuuut… I’m going to leave that option up to you guys! Between the readers here and AO3, if you’re still with me by the end of this fic, leave a comment and let me know if you would be interested in an epilogue or end scene with smut. I’ll post a reminder at the end, but keep it in mind while reading.

    And if anyone is interested in being tagged for future posts for this fic or any others I may post, please let me know and I’ll add you to the list! Thanks for reading <3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter two

    Forty-five days. Forty-five days and still nothing. No sign of the shuttle, or Jim, or the bastards that attacked them, nothing.

    Leonard sat at his desk with his head in his hands, staring blankly at the map of planets before him. The Enterprise had been hovering over a planet for the last four days now. Spock and a small landing party were down on the surface searching for any sign of Jim and his fourteen cadets, and Leonard hadn’t gotten word from them yet. All he could do at this point was hope, and he was worried that even though he was tying to hold on to what little he had left, he would soon abandon it all.

    With the red marker in his hand he circled the planet they were currently searching. As he did, his eyes glazed over the rest of the map covered in angry red X’s. Twenty-nine planets between here and where they were first attacked, where he lost Jim in the chaos, twenty-nine planets and they still had not found Jim. He ran shaking hands through his hair, replaying the scene over and over in his mind. The attack, Jim’s shuttle being bounced around as it tried to flee, then watching helplessly as it faded into the black. If he didn’t find him soon he was sure he was going to go crazy.

    He heard the woosh of the sickbay doors opening from where he sat in his office. He heard the commotion, the nurses running to the biobed being rushed in. Probably another superficial engineering injury, he thought, someone else can handle it.

    “Doctor McCoy!” The desperate cry of his name had his head snapping up from his desk. Mere seconds later a dishevelled looking Vulcan stood panting in his doorway. Leonard hoped, oh god he hoped that this was it, that they had found Jim, but reality was still present in his mind. Jim had been missing on a foreign planet for forty-five days… he was afraid to hope too much. “Doctor, we found him!”

    Before he could register his movements, Leonard was launching himself over his desk and running past Spock, the Vulcan right on his heels as he crossed the sickbay at a full sprint. He ran straight for the biobed being pushed in by Chapel and a few other nurses, his eyes instantly searching the screens for vitals. Once he found Jim’s heart rate on the monitor, proving to Leonard that he was alive and finally on the ship, his eyes and hands instantly rushed to Jim’s face. He was cold, dirty, pale, and covered in bruises and cuts. Some new but many old, he noted. His face was sunk in and he had lost a lot of weight while he was missing, and Len did not like that one bit. He hated seeing his friend, his best friend, in such a horrible state. The usually healthy Jim Kirk always came with a few cuts and bruises, but this… this was a lot for Leonard to take in. But the worst, he thought, were Jim’s eyes. Circled in darkness and shut tight, even as he called out his name, were red rimmed and wet. Len knew that could only mean one thing. As Jim lay alone in god knows what state, probably thinking the worst and accepting fate, he had been crying, thinking he would be dying alone on a foreign planet. The thought alone made Leonard’s stomach flip, almost enough to make him throw up, but Jim needed him now, he could be sick over it later when Jim was at least stable.

    With his hands still holding Jim’s face, his fingers sliding down to press against his neck feeling his pulse weak under them, he called to him, “Jim, Jim can you hear me?!” but he got no response, not even the slightest movement. “Jim!” he tried again but he was met with still silence.

    As they continued moving Jim through the sickbay, Chapel recited Jim’s condition in a steady voice to Leonard. Not only to inform the doctor of his patients condition, but also an attempt to bring Len back to reality and out of the Jim Kirk daze he was currently in. Jim would get through this, but he would need Leonard at his best. “Doctor,” she began “the captain is malnourished, severely dehydrated, and he has several injuries both internal and external that will need immediate surgery… Doctor?”

    Without pulling his attention from Jim he responded, “I’ll do the surgeries.”

    Though he hadn’t looked away from Jim, Chapel could tell that he was less “Bones” now then he was before, and more “Doctor McCoy”, hopefully realizing that Jim would both need and want the latter. “Good,” she nodded, “he wouldn’t want anyone else to do it.”

    He didn’t respond to that as they made it to the operating room, taking one last look at Jim before letting him go and turning to his team, “I need someone to set up an IV, he needs fluids immediately, and we need to start dissolving nutrition and protein packs into the line now!”

    At his barked words, two nurses left the room at a run, returning seconds later with the supplies he had asked for. They had the IV set and running in less time then it took to blink, and Len turned to leave the room to prepare himself. As he reached the door Chapel took his arm, holding him there to whisper between them, “Leonard,” in all his years with her, she had never once called him by his first name while on duty, “it doesn’t look like he’ll be waking up any time soon, I…”

    He spared a glance back at Jim behind him, still unconscious, still unmoving, before turning back to her with a sigh, “Let’s gets his injuries fixed and his health on a steady incline, we’ll worry about… about the coma later.”

    She nodded, letting him go and following him out to prep herself to aid him with Jim’s surgery. Neither saying another word to the other.

~~~~~~~~~~~

    Bones emerged from the operating room ten hours later with a sigh of relief. Jim was stable. The surgery went well, though this didn’t mean Jim was completely in the clear. He still had a long way to go in regards to healing, but the worst of it was the coma. Bones couldn’t tell when Jim would wake up or…. if he would wake up, and that scared the absolute hell out of him.

    As he took off his dirty scrubs and threw them in the bio bin, his eyes never left Chapel as she moved Jim to a private room at the back of the sickbay. As soon as he washed up and put on clean scrubs in his office, he made way straight for Jim’s room.

    When he entered, Chapel was still setting things up and taking vitals, and Len stood at the base of Jim’s bed and watched. He watched the drip of the IV fluid, he listened to the hiss of the oxygen machine, he watched the steady flow of the heart rate monitor and thanked god that Jim was still here. But that wouldn’t help him any, hell it wouldn’t help anyone. This coma, this god damned coma, it was keeping Len from the one thing he wanted more than anything in the entire galaxy. Blue, blue eyes, staring up at him in their ever continuous wonder, wide and beautiful as they gazed back at him. And although Len would admit he was a goddamn good doctor, he couldn’t pull Jim out of a coma, especially if Jim didn’t want to come out. He just had to hope with everything he had that Jim hadn’t already given up when he lay dying on that planet alone.

    A clearing of a throat pulled Len out of his thoughts, and he looked up to meet eyes with Chapel. Eyes filled with pity not so much for Jim, but for Leonard. “Doctor,” she nodded as he looked up, “I’ll leave you alone.”

    He didn’t respond, just returned his gaze to Jim as she left the room, closing the door with a soft click behind her.

    Once she was gone he moved himself to the side of the bed, sitting in the chair there. His hand hovered over Jim’s for a moment, and he thought maybe if he just held Jim’s hand, touched him, he’d wake up and this nightmare would finally be over.

    A knock came at the door and he pulled his hand away. A muffled, “Doctor?” was heard from the other side and Len recognized the monotone Vulcan instantly.

    The door opened slowly and Spock poked his head in. Finding Len, he opened it fully and walked in, padd in hand.

    “Doctor.” Len still could not bring himself to speak and Spock expected as much. “While you were performing surgery on the Captain I went through the communicator we found on his person when we rescued him. I reviewed all of his entries…” He fiddled with the padd in his hand, stepping forwards and thrusting the padd towards Leonard, “I merged the ships logs with Jim’s in chronological order for the board to review but… I think you should listen to them, Doctor. There are some things in Jim’s logs I think you should hear.”

    Len looked at the padd in front of him and shook his head, “Spock, I can’t.”

    “You must, Leonard, for Jim.” He pushed the padd towards him again and waited until he reached out a tentative hand and took it.

    When the padd was in Leonard’s hands, Spock retreated towards the door. “Doctor, I know this will be difficult for you, but know that when you reach the end of the logs it will all become clear. Jim wanted you to do this.”

    Before Leonard could say or do anymore, Spock had left the room and closed the door behind him, leaving Len alone with Jim and the padd.

    He let it rest heavy on his lap for a while before he finally spoke out loud, “Computer, shade windows.” The large windows at the front of Jim’s room darkened so he could no longer see the nurse’s station, could no longer see Chapel occasionally looking in at him.

    With one final calming breath, he opened the padd and brought up the file Spock had left on the screen for him. There was a long list of logs, so he clicked on the one at the top and settled into his chair to listen as Jim’s voice filled his ears.

    “Captain’s log, Stardate 2264.81. It’s been three days since our attack outside of Harmonia VI by an unknown party. Our shuttle, manned by myself and fourteen cadets in training, crash landed on an unknown non-federation planet on Stardate 2264.78. I managed to escape the crash with minor injuries, but some of my crew were not so fortunate. Our pilot, Cadet Trever Velnium, perished upon impact, Cadets VooHok and Amanda Hollis succumbed to their injuries on our second day, followed by Cadet Kent Vel-Nick this morning. The rest of us are trying to hold on, though most are in bad shape.

    As for our supplies, we have rationed our small emergency kit of food as best we can. But between those of us who survived the crash, the eleven of us remaining, I’m afraid we won’t have much left to last past four days. And our medical supplies are dwindling fast, I… I don’t know how much longer I can keep my injured crew members stable, some of the injuries are far too extensive for my knowledge and lack of supplies… I’m afraid a quick rescue from the Enterprise and Doctor McCoy will be their only hope…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Ok, chapter two!! Getting more into the plot now! Let me know what you guys think and if you want to be added to the tag list. :)

tags: @goingknowherewastaken @bi-e-ne @weresilver-in-space

I’m also gunna tag: @medicatemedrmccoy @0dannyphantom0 @jimboy-mccoy @reading-in-moonlight and @flaminglupine

Y’all were tagged in another one of my mckirk fics, so i thought maybe you might like this one. if its not your cup of tea then just let me know :D

Thanks for reading <3

[godaime-obito]

Kagatobi WIP

so id started a kagatobi thing before the semester took away all the time and energy i had for writing. ive tried to pick it up, and ive written some more but im not sure ill get back the feeling for it to finish it. if i decide not to finish it ill edit this and post it on ao3 but if i manage to get back inspiration i wont start posting till its almost finished. for now im posting it here, under the cut

Tobirama is exhausted. He’s been sorting through paperwork for far too long, and he knows he should go home soon, but there’s always another urgent form that needs taken care of immediately. He thought he had a lot of paperwork when he was just helping Hashirama, but since he stepped down and left the hat to Tobirama he’s been swamped. Anija has not returned the favor and given him any help, but to be honest when he does try to help it often makes things take longer.

He sighs, and goes to move on to the next form, when one of his anbu guards descend from their post to stand behind him. “Rabbit,” he says without looking away from the form, “What is it?”

“You look like you’ll have an aneurysm if you do any more paperwork, and it’s almost midnight. I can imagine what the obituary would be now: Nidiame-sama dead of a stroke at only 38, could defeat any foe but triplicate forms.” He stops to chuckle a little at the absurdity. “So, I’m doing my job as your bodyguard and protecting you,” Kagami finishes answering, reaching over Tobirama to grab the rest of his paperwork, “I’m just protecting you from yourself instead of assassins.

“I need to get that done,” he reprimands, “put it back Rabbit.”

“It’ll wait till tomorrow just like it always did for Shodai-sama,” he countered. He plopped the papers down in a filing cabinet and slammed it shut before adding, “and did you make up the entire anbu just so you could make me a rabbit because if so that’s a very complicated way to tease me. Why couldn’t I be Tiger or something?”

“You just look like a rabbit to me,” he says. He stands up, giving in to the request to take a break. He imagines Kagami is right about the work waiting for him just like it did for his brother.

“Are you calling me cute?” he teases, and Tobirama can tell he’s smiling behind the mask.

He hums agreeably and then teases back, dead-pan, “Don’t forget how fluffy and short you are. You’re a very soft little bunny, but I couldn’t just call you bunny, of course, since everyone else was getting adult animal names.”

Kagami sniffs, affronted, and pouts. “If you were any less of a sucker for order and regulations you’d have done it anyway,” he gripes. “Don’t come back in to work until after my shift guarding you is over, you should get a full night of sleep for once,” he calls out, as he moves back into position to follow Tobirama home.

Knowing Kagami can still hear him from his post he replies, “You shouldn’t order your Hokage around.” He’s mostly pocking at him, but he does have his image to think of if he wants to be able to scare all the various clan elders into line for village meetings. It almost gives him shivers just to think of what they’d try to pull if they thought he was willing to take orders from anyone except his own clan head.

He walks back to the compound briskly. Kagami’s shift ends in five hours, so he could still listen to him and be back to work by six in the morning. However, that isn’t really in the spirit of what he wanted, and will he really get much done if off duty Kagami shows up to nag him? No. He’ll wait a few extra hours then. He can sleep for about seven hours, have a quick breakfast, and be back in his office at nine.

Tobirama manages to avoid being derailed by Hashirama, or his granddaughter Tsunade whose only just learned to walk, but can still pull off grand panic inducing escapes. He arrives at Hokage tower just when planned. He pulls his paperwork out of the cabinet, and sets back to work. He’s regretting not having the time to get tea, when he heard a knock. Before he can invite Kagami in, because who else would it be, he swings the door open.

“Would you like some tea?” he asks setting a cup down on Tobirama’s desk without waiting for an answer.

“It looks like you already know the answer,” he replies. He takes a moment to hold the cup close to his face and bask in the steam. “Thanks. It’s nice to have some on reliable, responsible, around.”

“I’m not sure if that’s actually a compliment for me, or a vague insult for someone else, but I’ll take it,” Kagami chirps.

“The first paper I pulled out to look at today informed me that, my dear former student, Hiruzen somehow managed to set fire to part of the market earlier this week,” Tobirama grumbles in reply.

“I’m insulted, setting public property on fire is my clan’s job.”

“Don’t even think about it,” he warns.

“Kidding, kidding,” Kagami replies showing his palms in surrender, “no fun in the office, I get it.”

Tobirama gives him an exasperated stare. “I want it to be clear that if it weren’t so unbefitting for the Hokage to do so, I would roll my eyes at you,” he states evenly.

“Lies, Shodai-sama did things way less mature. The unasked-for hugging, the shouting, the crying,” he laments.

“All of that is why it’s important I keep high standards. I have a lot to make up for,” he clarifies.

Kagami stares, giving him a considering look, then drawls, “If you are always trying to balance out your brother it’s no wonder you never have any fun.” Perking up, he claps his hands together in front of himself and adds, “Shodai-sama was serious when it really counted though-”

“He was?”

“Don’t play dumb, it doesn’t suit you, and besides, you know best of all when he’s being serious,” he replies, crossing his arms. “Anyway, if you’re balancing him and he was serious occasionally, that means occasionally you have to have fun. I can’t remember the last time you did, so you’re overdo,” Kagami declares.

Tobirama has given up on getting any paperwork done with him here. Rubbing his temples, he slowly says, “I don’t like where this is going. I have a lot of paperwork, and issues to work on. For instance, your clan, who remain dangerously set apart, even now that Madara is no longer stirring up ill-sentiment.”

“That’s perfect! Think of it like multitasking. We’ll stay in at your place tonight, instead of you staying here till three in the morning, and we can brainstorm about how to help my clan together. I’d suggest we go out, but I know you’ll get more enjoyment at home with no strangers about,” Kagami gushes, sliding into a chair by the desk.

Tobirama didn’t realize that humans could talk that fast. He breathes out a deep sigh and responds, “Fine. Just let me do my paperwork now, and I’ll leave for the day at dinner.” His nose scrunches up as he adds, “I suppose if I don’t take breaks on my own, Anija will come to bug me instead of just you, and I’d much rather it be you.”

“Ah, your age-old talent of saying-something-that-I-can’t-tell-if-is-meant-as-a-compliment-or-an-insult,” he says wistfully, leaning his elbows on the desk, and resting his chin on his hands.

“Can’t it be both? It’s important I show my appreciation for all you do, but it’s also important as your friend that I don’t let you get a big head,” Tobirama deadpans.

“Right, what are friends for,” Kagami chuckles, “I’ll be sure to remember that the next time I want to compliment you.” He slides onto the desk and leans back with his ankles crossed. Tobirama would tell him to get off, but he sat on it almost the same way when Hashirama was Hokage, and even though he wasn’t there, he’s sure Kagami would somehow know and throw it back in his face. It’s best not to make a target of himself.

“Just stop by my house for dinner tonight, so you can eat with me and hold me captive in my own home to force me to stop working,” he huffed.

“Sure thing! See you later,” Kagami chirped, popping up from the desk. He slips quietly out of the room, as Tobirama turns back to his work, he has to go heckle Hiruzen a bit.

Tobirama has only just arrived home when he spots Kagami walking towards him. He’s holding some kind of take-out, which is good, because it’s late enough he doesn’t want to cook anything. Kagami knows him so well, or else he does not like his cooking. He hopes it’s the former, but it’s probably a little of both.

Noticing he’s been spotted, he calls out, “I picked up some udon. I figured you’d barely manage to beat me here.”

“My hero,” he replies. His tone is flat, but underneath he’s sincere. He opens the door, ushering Kagami in ahead of him. Tobirama heads in to the kitchen to make tea, while Kagami sits down at the kitchen table and sets out the food.

He sets out the tea, and joins the younger man at the table. He doesn’t bring up any of what they agreed to talk about yet, as he’s content to sit and eat in silence. Just being near Kagami is pleasant enough on its own, and he often finds a lot of words just bog down the atmosphere. It’s only when they finish eating, and move into the living room that he brings up their planned conversation.

“While you’ve got me on forced leave, tell me, do you have anything to discuss regarding the issue with your clan?” Tobirama inquires.

“I love it when you talk fancy,” Kagami sighs, his usual mixture of exaggeration and sincerity.

“That wasn’t ‘fancy’ talk, and please, answer the question,” he redirects.

He sits up in reply, settling into a more serious pose. “Well there hasn’t been any new big developments since we last spoke about it. Madara and other doubtfuls about the alliance got everyone riled up about trusting the village, growing unsettlement, not integrating probably, which makes things worse and worse as more clans have join, you know? Your normal signs of impending disaster,” Kagami says, slowly losing his serious air as he speaks.

The fact that it’s been getting worse means this isn’t a problem that will go away on its own. Tobirama is definitely going to have to do something, and preferably soon. After a beat, he says slowly, “Do you think your clan would settle if they felt they had a valuable purpose in the village? More than the new clans joining?”

Kagami perks up, cocking a brow. “Go on,” he says curiously.

“I think,” he starts, leaning in slightly, “that the Uchiha need reassured that they are vital to the village. Not that we want them to stay, but we need to them to stay. Or at least they need to feel like we need them, because if we do then it would not make sense for us to betray them.”

“Oh,” Kagami says, leaning in to mirror Tobirama, “I see. Well it’s worth trying, but what can we do to reassure my clansmen is the real question.”

Suddenly, Tobirama realizes how close they have gotten to one another. Leaning as they both are at the small table their faces are only centimeters apart. The atmosphere seems to shift for a moment, and he resists the urge to glance at Kagami’s lips. Pulling away, he refocuses on talking before he can blush. “That’s what we will have to figure out. Let’s give it some time and then reconvene,” he says stiltedly. Kagami likely did not even notice how close he was. He is much more prone to physical contact than Tobirama, who reasons to himself that he is probably reading too far into things.

“Right,” Kagami agreed, shifting back reluctantly. “I, uh, actually I should probably go now,” he adds looking at Tobirama considering, “Unless…”

“Unless, what?” he asks. He genuinely is not sure what Kagami could want at this point, after all he likely has much more interesting things to do than hang out with Tobirama. He is no one’s idea of an exciting time.

Kagami looks to be preparing to say something but then abruptly deflates. “Never mind,” he hesitates, “It’s nothing.” He pursed his lips, looking lost in thought, before standing up from the table.

Tobirama gives his farewell, and looks at the udon only partly finished on the table. He wonders what prompted that sudden departure. Deciding Kagami is perfectly capable of handling himself, Tobirama finishes eating and moves on to see if he can get some work done after all. He can wait to see if he will bring up what is bothering him on his own tomorrow.

Just as he’s sitting down at his home desk, he hears his door slam open. “Wait!” Tobirama hears called out from the entry. “I change my mind, I don’t have to go. I could feel you sit down to work from across town,” Kagami shouts walking towards the office. Strange, he thinks, but it is a relief to see he hasn’t altered his priorities any. Stopping Tobirama from getting any work done is still at the top of Kagami’s list.

“Get up from that desk,” he asserts, pointing a finger at him in an embellished motion. Tobirama lifts his hand in surrender and stands up. “Right, good,” Kagami continues, “I panicked, and left for a dumb reason, and we are going to ignore that decision.”

“Panicked?” Tobirama asks, mildly perplexed.

“I just said,” he retorted, “that we are going to ignore that. It didn’t happen.” Then he steps close to Tobirama, and presses a hand to his bicep to lead him down the hall. “We are going to sit in the living room, and talk about whatever thing you’re inventing, or book you’re reading, and not do any work,” Kagami asserts.  

That is, in fact, exactly what they do. As reluctant as he acted Tobirama is glad. It’s nice to talk to someone about his jutsus and his lab work who understands most of what he is saying, and doesn’t get bored half way through. He even manages not to have anymore, awkward almost-lip-staring moments, although the atmosphere he thinks only he may be feeling still descends part way into the night.

“I think I have to go for real this time. It’s getting pretty late,” Kagami moves to leave reluctantly, despite his frenzied departure earlier. Tobirama places his hand on the door frame as Kagami steps away from the entry. He turns back to face Tobirama, and steps closer placing his hand over his on the door frame.

Staring back at Kagami, Tobirama freezes, uncertain. “Is there something you need?” he asks quietly.

Looking determined Kagami states, “Actually, I am going to talk about earlier after all. I shouldn’t have just not left, I should’ve done this.” He grips Tobirama’s hand in his, and pulls it down from the frame towards himself, causing him to lean forward. Then pushing up on his toes to meet him, presses their lips together. For one, frightening, moment Tobirama doesn’t move, but then, as if coming back to himself suddenly, he moves his lips against Kagami’s. He moves in, shifting the angle, and interlocks their fingers. He pulls back, and runs his tongue across his lower lip. Kagami knows he should say something, but he finds he’s forgotten how to move his own tongue.

“I, yeah, that was what I…you kiss as good as I thought you would?” he stutters out. He managed to use his tongue, but unfortunately his brain still isn’t working.

“Have you thought about it much?” Tobirama replies with a smirk.

“Maybe regularly,” he admits, “but you kissed back, so I bet you thought about kissing me too, didn’t you?”

Tobirama hums his agreement, and Kagami abruptly feels rather stupid for not having just kissed him before. “If we’ve both been thinking off it for who knows how long, then we’ve wasted a lot of time we could have been kissing for real,” he whines.

“Perhaps,” Tobirama says thoughtfully, “we will have to make up for lost time.”

[jessefferguson]

My Double Life: 5 Years And Going

It’s been a LONG TIME since I wrote one of these, so I figured now was as good a point as any.

Words, spoken out loud, are funny. They can mean very different things.

Try this one:

I am still here.

and

I am still here.

Both of those are the best summary I can think of for how I feel today since today, May 21, is the 5th anniversary of when I was diagnosed with cancer. Five years ago, I sat in a sweltering doctors office in Washington, D.C. as he told me the results of my first biopsy. Five years later, I still have it.

After 5 years, I have two conflicting emotions: I’m still here (thank God) and I’m still (only) here. Five years later, not much has really changed but, also, everything has.

Over the 5 years, I’ve sort of lived a double life – that of a cancer patient and that of a political operative. Sometimes they overlap but, more often than not, they’re separate worlds.

By my best count, over the 5 years, I’ve had 4 surgeries, 33 days of radiation, upwards of 60 rounds of either chemotherapy or targeted therapy, about 75 blood tests, and 150 doctors’ appointments. And over the same 5 years, I’ve worked on 191 television ads, 311 polls, thousands of press releases and speeches, spent over $100 million (of other people’s money), and sent over 40,000 of my own tweets.

I continue to believe the same thing I did – and wrote about - 5 years ago, there are three keys to getting through this sort of thing: (1) Your family and friends; (2) Doctors who are the best; (3) Doing something with your time that you love to do. Even on the worst days of work, the fact that I was doing the work I wanted to do made it that much more possible to fight a disease I did not want to deal with.

WHAT’S THE LATEST WITH ME

I’m living and working from Brooklyn, still. I decided to stay here after the Clinton campaign ended rather than move back to D.C. for a bunch of reasons – closer to my doctors at Sloan Kettering and further from Trump at the WH. Both sounded like good ideas.

For just under a year, I’ve been on a clinical trail and it’s getting some pretty good results. It’s a targeted therapy drug and I’m one of the first to apply it to my unique disease. It’s unlikely to result in me being “cured” or “cancer free” but it’s definitely shrunk the disease in my skin tissue and throughout my head, neck and chest. It’s also brought down the swelling. The swelling issues are far from gone, but they’re better. The best case is that it continues shrinking things; the next best case is it stops anything from getting worse again. Either way, it’s turned my condition to a chronic one, for now. I’ll take it.

Every three weeks I do the same routine. I book a someone to come clean my house for that morning and I take a car down to Sloan Kettering.  I take a blood test. The doctor and I talk about medical stuff for a few minutes and politics for a few minutes and then he sends me for treatment. He’s not from America and has a healthy interest in all the crazy things in our politics.

It takes them about 2 hours to prepare the drug, so I have found a corner in the hospital that is usually empty for work — open the laptop, put on the head set and get to work. It’s my own cancer-center-based mobile-office. I have edited TV scripts and polls, held conference calls, did a radio interview and even convinced a donor to contribute – all from a table in a hospital waiting room. Last week’s discussion was about the placement of a media buy. It’s amazing what you can pull of when people don’t really know where you are.

The drug I’m on is an easy one – targeted therapy. It’s like a smart bomb of chemo that only goes to the cells that have the disease. The worst part is the IV, which I barely notice anymore and after 30 minutes, I’m out. On the road home to a clean house with the mild side effect of an uneasy stomach for a few days. Compared to the other drugs I’ve been on, this is like a piece of cake took a walk in a park.

How long will I stay on it? No clue. But it has made this condition chronic. If you offered me a deal today — get this treatment every 3 weeks for 30 minutes and the disease stays under control, I’d sign in a minute. I’d sign it for the next 10 years. For now, I’ll stay on it unless or until it stops working – then I’ll try something else.

WHAT HAPPENED SINCE 2016

As you may remember from my last blog post, just before election 2016, I had spent the previous 6 months working while dealing with the return of my disease.

On election night 2016, I did venture out. It wasn’t something I did often but I wanted to be with the team that night at the Javits Center in Manhattan. I could, now, try to pretend that I had doubts about the outcome of that night to try to make myself look extra smart, but that would be bullshit. I didn’t; I thought we’d win.

The beginning of that afternoon and evening were great. We were monitoring voting and doing the work we needed to do and I was also seeing some good friends who I had been away from while I worked the last few months from home.

Then, the results started and the mood changed. My heart started to sink, but I kept hoping. Florida, North Carolina, Ohio and others poured in. We knew we needed to hold Michigan, Wisconsin and Pennsylvania to make it work.

While we waited for those results, I got up to go to the bathroom. As I stood at the urinal, a friend who had better sense for numbers and data than I do, approached the stall next to me. We looked at each other with the same forlorn look of despair as if our confidence was waning. He said “I just looked at the latest data from Michigan; it’s gone.”  And with that, I found out we had lost in a way befitting the occasion -- standing at a urinal.  

Whether you believe we lost because of a mission from Russia or a miss in Michigan, or any other reason, one thing was clear: we lost the electoral college. It was over. And while I stared at my peers and colleagues – friends who had hired me and  friends who I had hired – I couldn’t stop thinking, “What’s next?”

Despite what you might see or hear, the group who I worked with on that campaign were some of the smartest, most talented and most committed people I’ve ever had the privilege to work with. As I stared at all of them, I wonder what was next for them. As I thought about it more, I worried what was next for me.  

At one point, I wandered away and ended up sitting in the middle of the massive loading dock in the Javits Center with 4 senior staff from the campaign. There where shipping boxes, fork lifts, and one table with a few plastic chairs in the middle. We all just kind of stared at each other. Someone would say something about what we should do or what we should say and we’d all agree but, for the life of me, I couldn’t tell you today what anyone said.  

As the night ended, I was one of the last ones to leave. I’m not really sure why, I just couldn’t. I kept finding someone else to talk to. I was trying to be a bit of team cheerleader – as best as was possible at that moment.  

At around 4:30am that night, I left the Javits center along side two reporters I had gotten to know. We walked for a bit and then they got into cabs and drove off. I just started walking. And walking. I was thinking about what had happened and what it meant for the country. And, if I’m honest, what it meant for me. I had cancer and had just devoted two years of my life to trying to win the presidency – and had failed. I just kept thinking, maybe even crying a bit, and walking.

When I looked up, it was 6 am and the sun was rising. I had walked from the Javits Center at 36th street down almost to the World Trade Center. Much like I did while wandering around the streets of Washington on May 21, 2013, I had done lots of thinking. But now it was November 9, 2016, and it was time to go back to work. I took a cab home, slept for a few hours, and opened my laptop.

WHAT HAVE I BEEN DOING SINCE

Since the campaign ended in 2016, I’ve been “consulting.” I’m still not sure what “consulting” means but it’s what I’m doing. I’m working on my own for a variety of political projects on a variety of important issues, trying to lend my experience to things where I think I can do something interesting and make a difference in the insane moment we’re in right now.

My work has ranged from the fight over the tax plan and some new digital campaign innovations, to a new polling project and an advertising campaign and others. It’s all kept me busy and kept my mind going – in the fight and doing what I love to do. The work is good cause it’s meaningful, it’s the work I want to be doing, and the variety of projects appeals to my attention-span-of-a-fruit-fly-nature.

It’s also allowed me to speak up a bit more about what I think, which has been quite a change. For the last 15+ years, I’ve always represented someone else – the DCCC Chairman, Secretary Clinton, etc. Now I’m speaking more and writing more in my own voice.

I still feel somewhat like a hermit. I live and work in my Brooklyn apartment. I get out more now than I used to, but, nothing like I did when I was healthy. When you’ve been dealing with this as long as I have, you start to lose track of what looking, feeling and being normal would be like. I get to the deli almost every morning and they know to make my eggs and have my iced coffee ready. Others around know me too. Life is easy and that’s important for me right now. One of these days, I’ll be up for making it harder again – but not yet.

THE HEALTH CARE ISSUE

The first project I took on was to help some friends with the coalition fighting the Obamacare repeal legislation. It’s been a hard-waged battle over the last 16 months to improve health care for people instead of letting it get dismantled.

But it’s also been the first time my double lives overlapped a bit. When the Affordable Care Act passed Congress, I was at my office near capitol hill, celebrating with everyone else. But it didn’t really mean anything to me. It was a good thing, but it wasn’t personal.

Seven years later, when repeal of it failed – repeal that would undercut protections for people with pre-existing conditions like I have – it was a very different moment. In fact, when the first repeal plan was pulled from the House floor, I was actually sitting at Sloan Kettering getting my chemo. I was on the phone talking with someone working with me while in the  hospital room getting treated as a news alert came across my computer screen.

I don’t often invoke my own personal health care situation while working on the issue because it shouldn’t be about me. I’m fortunate and would be able to get the care I needed if I had to. But sitting there at age 37, with an IV bag dripping a toxic chemical designed to keep me alive into my arm, I certainly had a different perspective than I had 8 years earlier as an otherwise-healthy, overweight 29 year old who saw passage of the ACA as a good reason to go to the bar and celebrate.

FIVE YEARS AND COUNTING

Once and a while I think about what I could be doing if I was fully healthy. I get sad. Maybe I get mad. As I approach 38 years old at the end of this year, more and more of my friends are having their first or second child and I’m forced to think if my life would be different if I hadn’t gotten this diagnosis five years ago. For sure, it would be. But, in the end, you play the cards your dealt and make damn well sure it’s a game you enjoy. You could win big or you could lose your shirt, but either outcome has to be worth it.

Five years ago I was diagnosed with a disease that probably should have killed me. Five years later, I’m still here. When I put it that way, it actually brings a smile to my face. I know talking about having cancer isn’t something that normally is joyful but being able to do what I love while living with the disease sure beats the alternative.

[petersspidey]

Road Trip

Request: YESS MY DUDE PLS WRITE A ROAD TRIP FANFIC I'LL LOVE YOU FOREVER AND EVER!!!!

A/N: Ahhhhh, this is a marvellous idea and lmaoooo I'm actually writing this on the plane ride home. I was only delayed for two hours sitting on the tarmac and then a nine hour flight home!!! Let’s just say, it’s been a long day. And tbh I literally would never write this on a plane (usually) but I got lucky and there’s nobody sitting on either side of me or behind me WOW so here I am, somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean (actually I'm probably over France rn) writing about you guys and fucking Peter Parker.

I also decided to try and do this a different way, its one of those Headcanon posts instead

Word Count: 2K

Warnings: nada

Masterlist

The lovely Peter Parker and yourself had been best friends for quite sometime and boy were you both pining over each other. Extremely pining.

It was a lot of almost but not completely’s. Which annoyed the hell out of you. But I mean, Peter also annoyed the hell out of you.

You loved the boy, but he was needy. (Lol you love it).

You had just finished your third year of high school when you and Peter decided that you needed to go on a road trip.

Meaning that Peter begged you to take a road trip with him. By then, he had passed his driver’s test and was ready to go on the road.

In the middle of July, you and Peter climbed into May’s car and began making your way to Niagara Falls.

It was seven in the morning and Peter had pulled up in front of your building in May’s car.

Peter jumped out and grabbed your bag and threw it into the trunk, rushing back around to open the car door for you. “Good morning, Y/N,” 

“Well it looks like someone is in a good mood,” 

“Of course I'm in a good mood, i’m excited! Aren’t you excited? We’re finally going on the road trip!” 

“Yes, Peter, I’m very excited,” you laughed. 

“Ive never been Niagara Falls, what do you think it’s like? And how long until we get there? You know I'm not good on long drives,” 

“Oh my god, Peter. Okay, Niagara Falls is very nice, you’ll love it. It’s about six and a half hours but because we’ll get caught in rush hour it’ll probably be closer to eight,” you answered.

“Then let’s go,” Peter smiled, putting the car into drive, heading towards the highway.

You were not at all surprised how simultaneously prepared and unprepared Peter was for this trip.

The boy had multiple road trip playlists and a few sugary treats but that was it. You of course were the one who thought to bring water, healthier snacks, tissues, etc.

Ten minutes into the trip he started diving into his snacks

“PeTeR ItS sEvEn In ThE mOrNiNg you don’t need a fruit roll up!” 

“But Y/N, Spiderman needs his nutrients,” 

“A fRuIt RoLl Up Is NoT nUtRiCiOuS,”

Peter just looked you right in the eye and took another bite of the fruit roll up causing you to lose your fucking marbles

THis boy was going to drive you insane for the next eight hours you just knew it

“Peter why don’t you just put on one of the CD’s you made instead of just singing?” 

“Are you trying to tell me you don’t like my singing?” 

“Peter Parker but put your CD on and sing along to that,”

“Will you sing with me?” 

“I don’t know? Is ‘Don’t Stop Believing’ on this playlist of yours?” 

“OH NO!”

“Peter did you actually forget the ultimate road trip song?” 

“Yes. But I can sing it for you,”

You acted annoyed with Peter but less than a minute later you were both singing at the top of your lungs

You pretended to be annoyed with Peter but you really loved him and you were actually having the time of your life

Eventually Peter turned on that playlist of his 

Turns out Don’t Stop Believing was on it

“Oh my god PEter you idiot,” 

“I FoRgOt,”

You and Peter were both idiots who were helplessly in love with each other but didn’t know

You would spend so much time just staring at the boy while he tried to focus on driving

Plot twist he knew you were looking at him

His CHEEKS TURNED BRIGHT RED EVERY TIME

You thought it was the cutest  

You were still singing along loudly to the music.

You would record it and send snaps to Ned saying you missed him  

Ned would always respond with “Bullshit you two need this time to figure everything out,”  

You tried to ask PEter what Ned meant but before Peter could answer he got distracted by a sign that said ‘Niagara Falls 350 miles’

“Peter, that’s still like five hours” 

“BuT wErE gETTING CLOSE” 

“Whatever you say, hon”

You wanting to pull over on the side of the highway to take pictures of all the scenery

“Y/N, we’re never going to make it in time if we don’t keep driving,” 

“In time for what?” 

“Just WE WON’T MAKE IT IN TIME,” 

“But Peter I want to take a picture of you next to that tree,” 

“Y/N,” 

“Peter Parker If you don’t go stand next to that tree so I can take your picture, no more fruit roll ups,” 

“But how will I survive and not starve?” 

“I have apples,” 

Peter still didn’t move

“Peter Benjamin Parker,” 

“Fine!” 

“Thank you! I love you!” 

“Yeah yeah, love you too,” he would mumble,

The picture of Peter turned out with him standing next to the tree with his arms crossed and huge pout on his face

“Peter can you please smile for me?” 

“Why would I smile after you threatened to take away my fruit roll ups?” 

“Because I want to remember this trip! Please, can you just smile for me?”

You know how Peter’s puppy dog eyes are irresistible? Anything you do is irresistible to him.

THIS BOY IS SO WHIPPED FOR YOU, YOU SIMPLY FROWN AND HES DOING EVERYTHING IN HIS POWER TO MAKE YOU FEEL BETTER

And boy you knew it too

So you frown and Peter loosens his shoulders and lets his arms fall

“No Y/N IM SORRY DON’T BE SAD YES I’LL SMILE,”

You got another picture of Peter with a big smile on his face, pointing at the tree.

“Can we get going now WE HAVE A SCHEDULE” 

“Why is this the first I'm hearing about this schedule?” 

“BEcuase it’s a surprise now get in the car,”

You both climb back In the car and set off again

“Y/N LOOK ONLY 250 MILES NOW” 

“Peter that still three and a half hours,” 

“BUT WE’RE EVEN CLOSER”

At one point you pull off the highway into a small town to get gas

The windows were rolled down and you began sneezing like crazy

“Thank you,” 

“What?” You asked Peter in between sneezes 

“I MEAN BLESS YOU” 

You were hunched over in the passenger seat, laughing your ass off in between your wild sneezes

“Can you please roll up the window Peter clearly I'm allergic to something” 

“fUCK YES SORRY”

When you stopped for gas you wanted to get out and take pictures but you knew you would just sneeze and not get any good pictures so you stayed in the car and took pictures of Peter pumping the gas without him noticing

This boy is so fucking gorgeous and the pictures turned out rather amazing despite how dirty the windows were

AND OF ALL THINGS TO TURN YOU ON PETER PUMPING GAS INTO THE CAR WAS APPARENTLY ONE OF THEM

When Peter got back in the car you were just staring at him

“What?” Peter eventually asked, confused by your staring

“Nothing. You’re just pretty is all,”

YOU HAVE NEVER SEEN PETER’S CHEEKS THAT RED

But of course this loser gained some confidence after he received your compliment

“Well if we’re talking about who’s pretty, then there’s no contest, hands down you’re the most beautiful,” 

“Peterr!” 

“I only speak the truth,” 

“Well you’re sweet spider-boy but it could just be from all the fruit roll up’s you’ve been eating,”

“Also,”

“Also?” 

“You should pump gas more often,” 

“Why….” 

“Cause you kinda looked really hot,” 

“I mean it is July the temperature are rather warm,” 

“Peter Parker you know that’s not what I meant,” 

“I know, I just like teasing you,” 

Not nice,” 

“I mean, I guess my so called hotness while pumping gas would explain why that hot blond was staring at me the entire time,” 

“wHOOO?”

Peter just laughed and didn’t answer you

This fuking boy

When you finally made it to Niagara Falls Peter was flipping excited.

You checked into your motel and then decided to go exploring

“So when do I get to find out what this surprise is?” 

“SOON” 

“Should I be worried?” 

“Shhhh Y/N, it’s a surprise I'm not going to throw you over the falls or anything,”

YOU were extremely suspicious as to what the surprise was

YOu and Peter went to the falls and you spent so long just taking pictures of Peter’s face when he first saw them

He was in absolute awe

You were so fucking in love with this boy

You kindly asked another Person to take a few pictures of you and Peter in front of the falls

They smiled and said you two made a cute couple and they snapped a few photos and gave you back your camera

“About that…” 

“About what?” 

“I also think we make a cute couple,” 

“Y/N NO SHHHH YOU’RE GOING TORUIN MY SURPRISE”

You were so confused

Did Peter just tell you to stop revealing your feeling cause IT WOUDL ‘RUIN HIS SURPRISE’

What was this boy up to  

After you spent some more time at the falls Peter dragged you down to the bottom of the falls 

“Peter what are we doing here?” 

“I BOOKED US A TOUR ON MAID OF THE MIST” 

“You did not,” 

“I did,” you smiled and gave Peter a hug.

You had been to Niagara Falls before but you had never gotten the chance to do a boat tour and Peter knew it was always something you wanted to do since you saw the episode of The Office where Jim and Pam got married on one of the boats

You were both given ponchos and you climbed on to the boat

You were kinda sad you couldn’t take your camera out cause you didn’t want to get it wet.

“So this was only half of the surprise,” Peter said 

“What? There’s more?”

Peter turned to you and just

HES SO FUCKING CUTE HIS HAIR WAS GETTING WET SO HIS CURLS WERE FLOPPY BUT THEY WERE ALL OVER THE PLACE AND UGH HES ADORABLE

“I’m in love with you,”

YOU WERE BLOWN AWAY YOU DIND’T FUCKING KNOW THIS BOY HAD ANYTHING BUT PLATONIC FEELINGS FOR YOU

“Are you serious Peter cause If you’re just fucking with me thats not very nice and you know I love you so I really hope you’re not messing with me cau-

Peter cut you off with a kiss

Usually you’d be mad if someone did that but Peter Parker was kissing you on fucking Maid of the Mist of all places and it didn’t seem to matter in that moment

“I love you too, you nerd,”

Peter had this big goofy grin on his face and you just smiled and went to kiss him again.

It was a long ass eight hour drive to Niagara Falls but it was totally worth it.

[takeeachdayonebookatatime]

Triple f day [fanfiction friday]

Flashpoint fan fiction

Staring

Sam and jules

(In a heartbeat)

The son of the hostage taker Ed shot a few months ago comes back to haunt the SRU. He acquires a Heckler & Koch G3 and starts shooting around the City Hall area, and shoots 2 people. Ed is his main target.

While on a roof sam and jules think they spot the subject but is a decoy, and jules gets shot the rest of the team come with shields and take her down to the medics who are waiting. In the ambulance they put an oxygen mask on her and monitor her bp, pulse, oxygen and keep a close eye on her heart rate and an IV was also inserted. One medic is doing chest compressions with the other is pressing on her wound to stop the bleeding once at the er in Trauma bay 2 which was loaded with doctors and nurses working on jules as they hurried to place her on a trauma bed.

"What's her BP?" Dr. Scott asked.

"90/50," the nurse replied, monitoring her vitals, "Pulse-ox is low. 82."

"Tell Me her blood pressure!"l

"Get me a number 7 ET-tube," a different doctor named Jeff stood right behind her head so he could tilt it back, the nurse passed him what he had asked for and dr jeff had successfully intubated her.

"She's lost a huge amount of blood. I need five units of O+positive and hang one more on the rapid infuser for later. Send up a trauma panel, we also need an x-ray of her chest. We need to see what type of damage the bullet caused," Dr. Scott called out as he was stabilizing jules.

Dr. Scott took a good look at her x-rays, "seems like the bullet may have hit the aorta; we are going to have to crack her open to stop some of this bleeding. Let's get her up to or now."

Now in the or once she was sedated and the anesthesiologist was ready.

"Prep her chest. Betadine and a sterile drape," Dr. Jeff ordered the nurse. "12 blade."

Dr. Jeff carefully cut down the middle of jules's chest, "pass me the Sternal saw." Once it was handed to Jeff the only sound was the beeping of her heart-rate monitor and her sternum being sawed through and cracked wide open with the saw.

Dr. Jeff proceeds to yank open Jules's chest with the rib spreaders opening it up wide enough for them to work. Dr. Scott was suctioning out the excess blood from her chest.

" Dr. Jeff used 4.0 prolene on a n RB-1 needle. Dr. Scott was stopping the hemorrhage." He felt around inside her chest to see if he could find the main source of her bleeding. Her pulse-ox started to alert them , "She's in V-Fib," the nurse informed them all.

" dr. scott started internal compressions,``'' dr scott also cross-clamped her aorta."

Dr. Jeff did as Scott instructed so he started massaging Jules's heart to keep her blood pumping.

"They were almost Done.

Dr. Scott grabbed the defibrillator and started to shock jules's heart.

"She's in sinus tach," the nurse was readIng out, " her Pressure is up to 90."

"Dr Jeff Ok, hang up another unit and let's remove that bullet then we can start closing her up.

Greg shot the hostage taker and saved Ed's life, the call was now over Sam's view was upscrued so he could not take the shot. at the er she was in surgery for a total of 4 hours before dr jeff and dr scott came out to talk to sam about jules, they were both cardiologists working on her case. They said she made it through surgery but that the bullet nicked her aorta which they sewed up and closed up her chest. She will also need to be in the icu for very close monitoring for a while. also no visitors only family which is sam.

Sam : pov a nurse took me to her room so I can sit by her I felt like it was my fault she was shot I also called ed, who is in the er and told him dr said no visitors and gave him the full update on jules and told him to send the team home. The nurse got me a cot to sleep in I ate a sandwich for dinner. It was now the next day and jules was still unconscious which both doctors said was normal after her type of injury. I had some gross hospital food. They decided to start to wean her off the sedatives. And at 2 in the afternoon she started to wake up. She was fighting the tube. I called for the nurse and both doctors came in to help, dr jeff checked her oxygen levels before he took out her breathing tube and placed an oxygen on her. Dr Scott was listening to her heart and checking the monitors. they were both trying to calm jules down so her heart rate would not spike after 5 minutes. I managed to calm her down. The nurse gave her more medicine. While she slept I ate at 4 she was taken down for her chest scans. Both doctors told me the results of her scan were that her chest wound was starting to heal nicely but the one on her heart had some minor scar tissue developing so she would have a long road ahead of her. The next day at six the team was allowed to visit her.

Jules : pov the team was allowed to visit me for a while which was nice I was in a lot of pain.They wished me well and hoped for a speedy recovery. Greg also mentioned Donna was filling in until I recovered.

Sam : pov

On day 4 they let her walk around a tiny bit and a physical therapist came in to talk with us about pt which jules would start in a few days/weeks. Jules was in pain 24/7 she was put on a heart healthy diet. It hurt her to sit up, stand or move around. It had been a week and jules started pt today the therapist did some light exercises with us like passing a ball around and walking. It was the next day and Jules was walking around more. Jules was not allowed to bend over or lift anything over 10 pounds. Her cardiologists both decided to do a ekg, a chest scan and an ecg. Her chest wound/scar was healing nicely and they said jules can be released tomorrow. She will need to take her meds daily for a long time and be closely monitored with scans. And if she has any concerning symptoms come In right away. For the next few days we continue with pt and taking her meds on time she was now allowed to walk longer distances. But was still on bed rest most of the day. Which upset Jules alot another week went by and she was off of bed rest full time but was told to take it easy. I was still off work because I was caring for her.

Jules : pov

Today is my cardiologist appointment with Dr Scott since he was a heart specialist. At the appointment Sam signed me in and my name was called. First he listened to my heart then he then told me to lay down on the bed so he could hook up the ekg. It still said I have a fast heart rate so he decided to do a ecg ultrasound of my heart. It showed the scar tissue I had. He said i could start to work out more but needed to be monitored closely he decided I would wear a device only when I am working out that would monitor my heart rate for 2 weeks and if all was good I could work on rejoining the sru but there was one clause to this if I was allowed to rejoin I would have to wear a device that monitors my heart rate 24/7 and carry an emergency injection of medicine that would lower my heart rate and get my heart back in rhythm if it was not. I agreed to it all. I still had some pain where my scar was. I was also given scar cream. Sam had gone back to work while I finished with my pt classes.

Sam : pov at her next check up it looked the same as her last one no further damage just the same amount so she was cleared for duty full time she passed her revaluation test and was allowed back on the team. She kept pulling at her bullet proof vest. She said it was bothering her a lot and was uncomfortable. I called dr scott and he said it was normal with tight fitting clothes after surgery the nerves were cut so they are just trying to heal themselves. He suggested loosening the straps on the vest for her first few days back until she was more comfortable.

Sam : pov it was 1 month later and the monitor showed her heart rate was a little elevated when working out in moderation. It had now been 3 months since surgery and the cardiologist said if all still looks okay in 2 weeks he would clear her to return

Sam : pov at her next check up it looked the same as her last one no further damage just the same amount so she was cleared for duty full time she passed her revaluation test and was allowed back on the team. She kept pulling at her bullet proof vest. She said it was bothering her a lot and was uncomfortable. I called dr scott and he said it was normal with tight fitting clothes after surgery the nerves were cut so they are just trying to heal themselves. He suggested loosening the straps on the vest for her first few days back until she was more comfortable.

Jules : pov it had been 6 months post op and I was doing good my heart rate was only elevated a little when working out or chasing a subject. I was still on my heart health diet and taking my pills regularly.

Sam : pov Today we had a hot call winnie told us 4 guys were robbing a building and one of them took a hostage the other 2 were in the building somewhere. We all split up me and jules went one way while ed and spike went another way greg and wordy went straight. They found 1 of the subjects and a hostage now 3 more. ed and spike also found there's, ed got in a sniper position and spike started looking up the guys. The other 2 were both in the same empty room jules managed to get her subject to drop his gun while she cuffed him he kicked her in the chest a few times my subject also put the gun down and I cuffed them both a uniformed office escorted them out of the building and into a waiting suv. Jules kept telling me she was fine but I knew she was not 100 percent also the app I have for her monitor says otherwise. I talked to Greg and he said jules should get checked out by the medics just in case. By the ambulance I told them jules had been kicked a few times and I wanted her to be checked out. I also told them it had been 6 months since she was shot and had open heart surgery and she has a little bit of scar tissues. And she wears this monitor so she is allowed to keep her job. I also told them what pills she takes. Once they hear about her past injury being shot and her open heart surgery they were concerned I told them what her heart rate was. They had her lay down and gave her some oxygen just in case they also gave her an injection to lower her heart rate and told me she was going to the er to get an ecg done to make sure there was no damage and iv was also placed. Once at the er she was taken to trauma bay 2 dr. Jeff was on call today so that is who we got he had jules lay down then started the ecg he said other than the scar tissue she was okay but probably very sore and bruised so she will be giving her tomorrow off.

Jules : pov

I got released 2 hours later after being monitored. Greg called to check in with me and it turns out the whole hot call was weird. The guy and his 3 friends had been scammed by this place and him and his 3 friends decided to take the guy hostage. in return, Greg got the hostage to refund his money and the subject to put the gun down.

[dasha-lee-poetry-blog]

In the Basement in December

When I was five, I warmed away the frost killing our garden. I melted the ice climbing up the weeds that choked the fence and the roots that crumbled under the dirt. I used to sit next to the beds while Mom dug up the lawn looking for her wedding ring. She would singing Russian ballads to the dead juniper trees and I would breathe warm air on every bud I could reach with my open mouth.  We used to count all the crow feathers caught in our neighbors fence each time I remembered they were there.

“Crows are omnivores, they eat plants and meat” she would say, and I would stare up into the sun and cover my head with my hands, fingers fully spread. Then she would place her fingers in-between each gap of mine, where my rough, dark hair stood out against the bright sky.   “Sons are like birds” she said “flying upwards over the mountain.” But Ive only ever been able to see the Hurricane Cliffs a few hours from home and the Great Basin in the winter. There are no mountains here, and certainly none that I've managed to reach the top of.

                                                 * * * * *

Mom and Dad are getting a divorce now and all my uphill clawing has landed me here, still looking for that ring, hiding in the basement on a Thursday with father’s old, broken, gargling computers trying to get away from it all. The homework, the parents, the “you’re supposed to’s”, the “why aren’t you’s”, and the “when will you’s”.   Just two tabs kicking in and three more to go before they both get home from work in a few hours.  

The internet is less inspiring than usual today: two posts on Reddit about legalized weed in states that I'm not in, several about our country acquiring a dumber president than before, and one about happiness written by someones dead aunt. “Happiness is a talent” it says, “life has no smooth roads” writes the aunt on her death bed.  All of this from a woman who doesn't have to try anymore.

Dad’s basement office is temporarily more colorful than usual, the blinds are closed to keep out the evening sun and color-changing LED strips line the bookshelves. The off white carpet is littered with old fishing magazines, boxes filled with clutter, photo development equipment, and a full spectrum of lights. “The moon is always facing us and moving away at an inch and a half per year and I realize now that it is backing away slowly,” says the forum. “Do you think they call it sand because it’s between the sea and the land?” It asks. My eyes glaze and refocus on my reflection in the monitor as I imagine myself as a strip of beach running miles along the coast. Stretching out in the sun, soaking in endless warmth and infinite, gentle pushes from the sea.  The blue colors pulsing off the walls are beginning to sound likes soft waves and the ceiling is definitely more of an ocean than it used to be. As I gaze at my reflection absent-mindedly , another reflection appears. A girl, maybe 16 or so, kneeling in the corner of the screen. Her waist-length brown hair is draped over her green-long sleeve shirt and she is crouching on her toes as she rummages through a box. I check the reflection one last time before I turn around and face the figure itself. She is really there, not just in the monitor. She looks completely unfamiliar.

“Hello?” I question tentatively, knees up to my chest in Dad’s swivel chair.  Startled, she looses balance and lightly hits the floor with a soft thud next to the box. Her hair reflects the light as she pulls half of it behind one ear and meets my gaze slightly above her own.

“What are you doing?” I probe gently.

Her eyes dart from the box back to me “I’m looking for your Mom’s ring.”

“Oh, well… It’s in the yard I think. Thats where she saw it last.”

“Thats not what your dad says” She responds automatically as she continues rifling through the box.  I slowly lift myself onto the ground next to her, crouching partially beneath the desk.

“It would be spectacular if you could find it, I was thinking that it might bring them back together a bit… If you know what I mean. They haven't been the same recently…”  Wow, I opened up quickly.. This must be the acid talking…

` “What are we listening to?” She asks, head still buried.  I completely forgot that my old playlist is running amidst the chaos.  

“No Moon by Iron and Wine” I respond. “Did you know that the moon is leaving us?”

“For how long?”

“I’m not sure… I was hoping you might know.”

She shrugs and pulls a lighter out of the box. “Do you have any candles?” I nod and duck underneath the desk to the shelving on the other side of the room. It looks truly dark outside at this point and the temperature has definitely dropped several degrees. I half expect her to not be there when I turn back around but, sure enough, she's there, laying on the carpet with her head resting on a shoe box, flicking the lighter above her chest. I sit next to her about four feet away and place the candles between us.

“Well, did you find out what it is?” She questions as she flicks the lighter and moves to face me, laying on her side.

“What what is?”

“What the ‘is’ is, of course” She prods with a mild tone of sarcastic confusion.

“What’s the ‘is’?”

“The whole, the ultimate, the us, the ‘why’ and the ‘how’. The in, the out; the all around ?”

I laugh, maybe for the first time in months, “Not even close.” I respond, laying on my side now as well, facing her. God, I like this girl.

“I found it” she mentions casually, shifting onto her back, and tracing the lights on the ceiling with her eyes.  I fight the urge to reach out and touch one of her green sleeves pushed up to her elbow.  She must have read my mind because in that instant she locks both of her dark hazel eyes on me and moves to lean her arm gently against mine.

“You have me on the edge of my seat, what is it?”

She reveals a small gold ring between her palms.

“It got warmer in here when you laughed.”

And then I smile like an idiot and take turns staring, dumfounded, between her eyes and the little thing resting in her cupped hands.  Just as all the “how’s and “why’s” start pouring out of my mouth, light shoots in from the thin windows along the top of the wall. I hear the garage door open, the impending unlocking of the front door, and the typical oppressive silence my parents emit when they get home.

“Hide under the desk and please don't leave, Okay?”

She nods with a worried expression tied up in her eyebrows and darts under the desk. I take a few, final moments to hide all the paraphernalia, not to mention my dads bottle of rum from the kitchen, pull some homework up on the computer, and run two steps at a time up the stairs.

Dad slams the door behind them to keep the wind out.

They are quite today, but a little more so than usual. Mom’s hair has fallen out of its usual tight bun and Dad’s briefcase is sporting a new coffee stain. Can’t have been a good day.

“How was work, Mom?”

“Too many parent complaints and not enough tax support from the district. Glendale is rough on their teachers. ” Dad has already walked into the kitchen and mom’s eyes have dropped from mine to watch him throw his jacket on the dining table and turn on the television.

“Mom, you wont believe it, I found something in the basement today..”

Her heavy eyelids perk up slightly behind her red-rimmed glasses as I reach into my pocket to pull out the ring. It’s not there. Of course it isn’t. “One second”.

I leap lightly from the landing, six steps down to the carpeted basement floor.  As I swing around the corner and back into the room I step on a small lit tea-light candle. It burns a small hole on the bottom of my sock before I yank it off and notice about two dozen more candles. Dotting the floor in concentric circles like domino chain reactions.  The room is warmer and cleaner now too. Dad’s boxes are closed and stacked neatly in various corners of the room waiting to be moved. “Are you still there?” I breach into the darkness as the computer hums and the speakers continue to sing:

“Mother don't worry, I killed the last snake that lived in the creek bed

Mother don't worry, I've got some money I saved for the weekend

Mother remember the blink of an eye when I breathed through your body?

So may the sunrise bring hope where it once was forgotten

Sons are like birds, flying upward over the mountain”

over and over and over.

[jiminthestreets-bonesinthesheets]

Lost in Translation

Title: Lost in Translation

Fandom: Star Trek

Pairing: Mckirk

Rating: Explicit

Tags: minor character death, hurt, little bit of self destruction, stranded, possible smut down the line

Summary:

    “Attention citizens. This is the crew of the Enterprise asking for your aid. On Stardate 2264.78 a shuttle manned by our captain and fourteen cadets was ambushed by an unknown source and chased out of sight of our ship and into open space. Those cadets as well as our captain, James Tiberius Kirk, are still missing. We are asking anyone with any information on their whereabouts, or regarding the attack, to please contact the Enterprise immediately. Our family would appreciate any assistance you can give.”

AO3 Link

Masterlist

A/N: So this is a work in progress but it’s basically finished and I’ve been making great headway with this recently, so this will be the first fic I’ve ever finished! Woohoo!! And I'm thinking that I’ll probably stick to a Sunday post schedule.

    Also a little note for y’all to keep in mind while reading. I have tagged this fic “possible eventual smut” and that’s because right now I don’t have any planned buuuuut… I'm going to leave that option up to you guys! Between the readers here and AO3, if you're still with me by the end of this fic, leave a comment and let me know if you would be interested in an epilogue or end scene with smut. I’ll post a reminder at the end, but keep it in mind while reading.

    And if anyone is interested in being tagged for future posts for this fic or any others I may post, please let me know and I’ll add you to the list! Thanks for reading <3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter two

    Forty-five days. Forty-five days and still nothing. No sign of the shuttle, or Jim, or the bastards that attacked them, nothing.

    Leonard sat at his desk with his head in his hands, staring blankly at the map of planets before him. The Enterprise had been hovering over a planet for the last four days now. Spock and a small landing party were down on the surface searching for any sign of Jim and his fourteen cadets, and Leonard hadn’t gotten word from them yet. All he could do at this point was hope, and he was worried that even though he was tying to hold on to what little he had left, he would soon abandon it all.

    With the red marker in his hand he circled the planet they were currently searching. As he did, his eyes glazed over the rest of the map covered in angry red X’s. Twenty-nine planets between here and where they were first attacked, where he lost Jim in the chaos, twenty-nine planets and they still had not found Jim. He ran shaking hands through his hair, replaying the scene over and over in his mind. The attack, Jim’s shuttle being bounced around as it tried to flee, then watching helplessly as it faded into the black. If he didn’t find him soon he was sure he was going to go crazy.

    He heard the woosh of the sickbay doors opening from where he sat in his office. He heard the commotion, the nurses running to the biobed being rushed in. Probably another superficial engineering injury, he thought, someone else can handle it.

    “Doctor McCoy!” The desperate cry of his name had his head snapping up from his desk. Mere seconds later a dishevelled looking Vulcan stood panting in his doorway. Leonard hoped, oh god he hoped that this was it, that they had found Jim, but reality was still present in his mind. Jim had been missing on a foreign planet for forty-five days... he was afraid to hope too much. “Doctor, we found him!”

    Before he could register his movements, Leonard was launching himself over his desk and running past Spock, the Vulcan right on his heels as he crossed the sickbay at a full sprint. He ran straight for the biobed being pushed in by Chapel and a few other nurses, his eyes instantly searching the screens for vitals. Once he found Jim's heart rate on the monitor, proving to Leonard that he was alive and finally on the ship, his eyes and hands instantly rushed to Jim's face. He was cold, dirty, pale, and covered in bruises and cuts. Some new but many old, he noted. His face was sunk in and he had lost a lot of weight while he was missing, and Len did not like that one bit. He hated seeing his friend, his best friend, in such a horrible state. The usually healthy Jim Kirk always came with a few cuts and bruises, but this… this was a lot for Leonard to take in. But the worst, he thought, were Jim's eyes. Circled in darkness and shut tight, even as he called out his name, were red rimmed and wet. Len knew that could only mean one thing. As Jim lay alone in god knows what state, probably thinking the worst and accepting fate, he had been crying, thinking he would be dying alone on a foreign planet. The thought alone made Leonard's stomach flip, almost enough to make him throw up, but Jim needed him now, he could be sick over it later when Jim was at least stable.

    With his hands still holding Jim's face, his fingers sliding down to press against his neck feeling his pulse weak under them, he called to him, “Jim, Jim can you hear me?!” but he got no response, not even the slightest movement. “Jim!” he tried again but he was met with still silence.

    As they continued moving Jim through the sickbay, Chapel recited Jim's condition in a steady voice to Leonard. Not only to inform the doctor of his patients condition, but also an attempt to bring Len back to reality and out of the Jim Kirk daze he was currently in. Jim would get through this, but he would need Leonard at his best. “Doctor,” she began “the captain is malnourished, severely dehydrated, and he has several injuries both internal and external that will need immediate surgery… Doctor?”

    Without pulling his attention from Jim he responded, “I’ll do the surgeries.”

    Though he hadn’t looked away from Jim, Chapel could tell that he was less “Bones” now then he was before, and more “Doctor McCoy”, hopefully realizing that Jim would both need and want the latter. “Good,” she nodded, “he wouldn’t want anyone else to do it.”

    He didn’t respond to that as they made it to the operating room, taking one last look at Jim before letting him go and turning to his team, “I need someone to set up an IV, he needs fluids immediately, and we need to start dissolving nutrition and protein packs into the line now!”

    At his barked words, two nurses left the room at a run, returning seconds later with the supplies he had asked for. They had the IV set and running in less time then it took to blink, and Len turned to leave the room to prepare himself. As he reached the door Chapel took his arm, holding him there to whisper between them, “Leonard,” in all his years with her, she had never once called him by his first name while on duty, “it doesn’t look like he’ll be waking up any time soon, I…”

    He spared a glance back at Jim behind him, still unconscious, still unmoving, before turning back to her with a sigh, “Let’s gets his injuries fixed and his health on a steady incline, we’ll worry about… about the coma later.”

    She nodded, letting him go and following him out to prep herself to aid him with Jim's surgery. Neither saying another word to the other.

~~~~~~~~~~~

    Bones emerged from the operating room ten hours later with a sigh of relief. Jim was stable. The surgery went well, though this didn’t mean Jim was completely in the clear. He still had a long way to go in regards to healing, but the worst of it was the coma. Bones couldn’t tell when Jim would wake up or.... if he would wake up, and that scared the absolute hell out of him.

    As he took off his dirty scrubs and threw them in the bio bin, his eyes never left Chapel as she moved Jim to a private room at the back of the sickbay. As soon as he washed up and put on clean scrubs in his office, he made way straight for Jim’s room.

    When he entered, Chapel was still setting things up and taking vitals, and Len stood at the base of Jim’s bed and watched. He watched the drip of the IV fluid, he listened to the hiss of the oxygen machine, he watched the steady flow of the heart rate monitor and thanked god that Jim was still here. But that wouldn’t help him any, hell it wouldn’t help anyone. This coma, this god damned coma, it was keeping Len from the one thing he wanted more than anything in the entire galaxy. Blue, blue eyes, staring up at him in their ever continuous wonder, wide and beautiful as they gazed back at him. And although Len would admit he was a goddamn good doctor, he couldn’t pull Jim out of a coma, especially if Jim didn’t want to come out. He just had to hope with everything he had that Jim hadn’t already given up when he lay dying on that planet alone.

    A clearing of a throat pulled Len out of his thoughts, and he looked up to meet eyes with Chapel. Eyes filled with pity not so much for Jim, but for Leonard. “Doctor,” she nodded as he looked up, “I’ll leave you alone.”

    He didn’t respond, just returned his gaze to Jim as she left the room, closing the door with a soft click behind her.

    Once she was gone he moved himself to the side of the bed, sitting in the chair there. His hand hovered over Jim’s for a moment, and he thought maybe if he just held Jim’s hand, touched him, he’d wake up and this nightmare would finally be over.

    A knock came at the door and he pulled his hand away. A muffled, “Doctor?” was heard from the other side and Len recognized the monotone Vulcan instantly.

    The door opened slowly and Spock poked his head in. Finding Len, he opened it fully and walked in, padd in hand.

    “Doctor.” Len still could not bring himself to speak and Spock expected as much. “While you were performing surgery on the Captain I went through the communicator we found on his person when we rescued him. I reviewed all of his entries...” He fiddled with the padd in his hand, stepping forwards and thrusting the padd towards Leonard, “I merged the ships logs with Jim’s in chronological order for the board to review but… I think you should listen to them, Doctor. There are some things in Jim’s logs I think you should hear.”

    Len looked at the padd in front of him and shook his head, “Spock, I can’t.”

    “You must, Leonard, for Jim.” He pushed the padd towards him again and waited until he reached out a tentative hand and took it.

    When the padd was in Leonard’s hands, Spock retreated towards the door. “Doctor, I know this will be difficult for you, but know that when you reach the end of the logs it will all become clear. Jim wanted you to do this.”

    Before Leonard could say or do anymore, Spock had left the room and closed the door behind him, leaving Len alone with Jim and the padd.

    He let it rest heavy on his lap for a while before he finally spoke out loud, “Computer, shade windows.” The large windows at the front of Jim’s room darkened so he could no longer see the nurse’s station, could no longer see Chapel occasionally looking in at him.

    With one final calming breath, he opened the padd and brought up the file Spock had left on the screen for him. There was a long list of logs, so he clicked on the one at the top and settled into his chair to listen as Jim’s voice filled his ears.

    “Captain’s log, Stardate 2264.81. It’s been three days since our attack outside of Harmonia VI by an unknown party. Our shuttle, manned by myself and fourteen cadets in training, crash landed on an unknown non-federation planet on Stardate 2264.78. I managed to escape the crash with minor injuries, but some of my crew were not so fortunate. Our pilot, Cadet Trever Velnium, perished upon impact, Cadets VooHok and Amanda Hollis succumbed to their injuries on our second day, followed by Cadet Kent Vel-Nick this morning. The rest of us are trying to hold on, though most are in bad shape.

    As for our supplies, we have rationed our small emergency kit of food as best we can. But between those of us who survived the crash, the eleven of us remaining, I'm afraid we won’t have much left to last past four days. And our medical supplies are dwindling fast, I... I don’t know how much longer I can keep my injured crew members stable, some of the injuries are far too extensive for my knowledge and lack of supplies... I’m afraid a quick rescue from the Enterprise and Doctor McCoy will be their only hope...”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Ok, chapter two!! Getting more into the plot now! Let me know what you guys think and if you want to be added to the tag list. :)

[jiminthestreets-bonesinthesheets]

Lost in Translation

Title: Lost in Translation

Fandom: Star Trek

Pairing: Mckirk

Rating: Explicit

Tags: minor character death, hurt, little bit of self destruction, stranded, possible smut down the line

Summary:

    “Attention citizens. This is the crew of the Enterprise asking for your aid. On Stardate 2264.78 a shuttle manned by our captain and fourteen cadets was ambushed by an unknown source and chased out of sight of our ship and into open space. Those cadets as well as our captain, James Tiberius Kirk, are still missing. We are asking anyone with any information on their whereabouts, or regarding the attack, to please contact the Enterprise immediately. Our family would appreciate any assistance you can give.”

AO3 Link

Masterlist

A/N: So this is a work in progress but it’s basically finished and I’ve been making great headway with this recently, so this will be the first fic I’ve ever finished! Woohoo!! And I'm thinking that I’ll probably stick to a Sunday post schedule.

    Also a little note for y’all to keep in mind while reading. I have tagged this fic “possible eventual smut” and that’s because right now I don’t have any planned buuuuut… I'm going to leave that option up to you guys! Between the readers here and AO3, if you're still with me by the end of this fic, leave a comment and let me know if you would be interested in an epilogue or end scene with smut. I’ll post a reminder at the end, but keep it in mind while reading.

    And if anyone is interested in being tagged for future posts for this fic or any others I may post, please let me know and I’ll add you to the list! Thanks for reading <3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter two

    Forty-five days. Forty-five days and still nothing. No sign of the shuttle, or Jim, or the bastards that attacked them, nothing.

    Leonard sat at his desk with his head in his hands, staring blankly at the map of planets before him. The Enterprise had been hovering over a planet for the last four days now. Spock and a small landing party were down on the surface searching for any sign of Jim and his fourteen cadets, and Leonard hadn’t gotten word from them yet. All he could do at this point was hope, and he was worried that even though he was tying to hold on to what little he had left, he would soon abandon it all.

    With the red marker in his hand he circled the planet they were currently searching. As he did, his eyes glazed over the rest of the map covered in angry red X’s. Twenty-nine planets between here and where they were first attacked, where he lost Jim in the chaos, twenty-nine planets and they still had not found Jim. He ran shaking hands through his hair, replaying the scene over and over in his mind. The attack, Jim’s shuttle being bounced around as it tried to flee, then watching helplessly as it faded into the black. If he didn’t find him soon he was sure he was going to go crazy.

    He heard the woosh of the sickbay doors opening from where he sat in his office. He heard the commotion, the nurses running to the biobed being rushed in. Probably another superficial engineering injury, he thought, someone else can handle it.

    “Doctor McCoy!” The desperate cry of his name had his head snapping up from his desk. Mere seconds later a dishevelled looking Vulcan stood panting in his doorway. Leonard hoped, oh god he hoped that this was it, that they had found Jim, but reality was still present in his mind. Jim had been missing on a foreign planet for forty-five days... he was afraid to hope too much. “Doctor, we found him!”

    Before he could register his movements, Leonard was launching himself over his desk and running past Spock, the Vulcan right on his heels as he crossed the sickbay at a full sprint. He ran straight for the biobed being pushed in by Chapel and a few other nurses, his eyes instantly searching the screens for vitals. Once he found Jim's heart rate on the monitor, proving to Leonard that he was alive and finally on the ship, his eyes and hands instantly rushed to Jim's face. He was cold, dirty, pale, and covered in bruises and cuts. Some new but many old, he noted. His face was sunk in and he had lost a lot of weight while he was missing, and Len did not like that one bit. He hated seeing his friend, his best friend, in such a horrible state. The usually healthy Jim Kirk always came with a few cuts and bruises, but this… this was a lot for Leonard to take in. But the worst, he thought, were Jim's eyes. Circled in darkness and shut tight, even as he called out his name, were red rimmed and wet. Len knew that could only mean one thing. As Jim lay alone in god knows what state, probably thinking the worst and accepting fate, he had been crying, thinking he would be dying alone on a foreign planet. The thought alone made Leonard's stomach flip, almost enough to make him throw up, but Jim needed him now, he could be sick over it later when Jim was at least stable.

    With his hands still holding Jim's face, his fingers sliding down to press against his neck feeling his pulse weak under them, he called to him, “Jim, Jim can you hear me?!” but he got no response, not even the slightest movement. “Jim!” he tried again but he was met with still silence.

    As they continued moving Jim through the sickbay, Chapel recited Jim's condition in a steady voice to Leonard. Not only to inform the doctor of his patients condition, but also an attempt to bring Len back to reality and out of the Jim Kirk daze he was currently in. Jim would get through this, but he would need Leonard at his best. “Doctor,” she began “the captain is malnourished, severely dehydrated, and he has several injuries both internal and external that will need immediate surgery… Doctor?”

    Without pulling his attention from Jim he responded, “I’ll do the surgeries.”

    Though he hadn’t looked away from Jim, Chapel could tell that he was less “Bones” now then he was before, and more “Doctor McCoy”, hopefully realizing that Jim would both need and want the latter. “Good,” she nodded, “he wouldn’t want anyone else to do it.”

    He didn’t respond to that as they made it to the operating room, taking one last look at Jim before letting him go and turning to his team, “I need someone to set up an IV, he needs fluids immediately, and we need to start dissolving nutrition and protein packs into the line now!”

    At his barked words, two nurses left the room at a run, returning seconds later with the supplies he had asked for. They had the IV set and running in less time then it took to blink, and Len turned to leave the room to prepare himself. As he reached the door Chapel took his arm, holding him there to whisper between them, “Leonard,” in all his years with her, she had never once called him by his first name while on duty, “it doesn’t look like he’ll be waking up any time soon, I…”

    He spared a glance back at Jim behind him, still unconscious, still unmoving, before turning back to her with a sigh, “Let’s gets his injuries fixed and his health on a steady incline, we’ll worry about… about the coma later.”

    She nodded, letting him go and following him out to prep herself to aid him with Jim's surgery. Neither saying another word to the other.

~~~~~~~~~~~

    Bones emerged from the operating room ten hours later with a sigh of relief. Jim was stable. The surgery went well, though this didn’t mean Jim was completely in the clear. He still had a long way to go in regards to healing, but the worst of it was the coma. Bones couldn’t tell when Jim would wake up or.... if he would wake up, and that scared the absolute hell out of him.

    As he took off his dirty scrubs and threw them in the bio bin, his eyes never left Chapel as she moved Jim to a private room at the back of the sickbay. As soon as he washed up and put on clean scrubs in his office, he made way straight for Jim’s room.

    When he entered, Chapel was still setting things up and taking vitals, and Len stood at the base of Jim’s bed and watched. He watched the drip of the IV fluid, he listened to the hiss of the oxygen machine, he watched the steady flow of the heart rate monitor and thanked god that Jim was still here. But that wouldn’t help him any, hell it wouldn’t help anyone. This coma, this god damned coma, it was keeping Len from the one thing he wanted more than anything in the entire galaxy. Blue, blue eyes, staring up at him in their ever continuous wonder, wide and beautiful as they gazed back at him. And although Len would admit he was a goddamn good doctor, he couldn’t pull Jim out of a coma, especially if Jim didn’t want to come out. He just had to hope with everything he had that Jim hadn’t already given up when he lay dying on that planet alone.

    A clearing of a throat pulled Len out of his thoughts, and he looked up to meet eyes with Chapel. Eyes filled with pity not so much for Jim, but for Leonard. “Doctor,” she nodded as he looked up, “I’ll leave you alone.”

    He didn’t respond, just returned his gaze to Jim as she left the room, closing the door with a soft click behind her.

    Once she was gone he moved himself to the side of the bed, sitting in the chair there. His hand hovered over Jim’s for a moment, and he thought maybe if he just held Jim’s hand, touched him, he’d wake up and this nightmare would finally be over.

    A knock came at the door and he pulled his hand away. A muffled, “Doctor?” was heard from the other side and Len recognized the monotone Vulcan instantly.

    The door opened slowly and Spock poked his head in. Finding Len, he opened it fully and walked in, padd in hand.

    “Doctor.” Len still could not bring himself to speak and Spock expected as much. “While you were performing surgery on the Captain I went through the communicator we found on his person when we rescued him. I reviewed all of his entries...” He fiddled with the padd in his hand, stepping forwards and thrusting the padd towards Leonard, “I merged the ships logs with Jim’s in chronological order for the board to review but… I think you should listen to them, Doctor. There are some things in Jim’s logs I think you should hear.”

    Len looked at the padd in front of him and shook his head, “Spock, I can’t.”

    “You must, Leonard, for Jim.” He pushed the padd towards him again and waited until he reached out a tentative hand and took it.

    When the padd was in Leonard’s hands, Spock retreated towards the door. “Doctor, I know this will be difficult for you, but know that when you reach the end of the logs it will all become clear. Jim wanted you to do this.”

    Before Leonard could say or do anymore, Spock had left the room and closed the door behind him, leaving Len alone with Jim and the padd.

    He let it rest heavy on his lap for a while before he finally spoke out loud, “Computer, shade windows.” The large windows at the front of Jim’s room darkened so he could no longer see the nurse’s station, could no longer see Chapel occasionally looking in at him.

    With one final calming breath, he opened the padd and brought up the file Spock had left on the screen for him. There was a long list of logs, so he clicked on the one at the top and settled into his chair to listen as Jim’s voice filled his ears.

    “Captain’s log, Stardate 2264.81. It’s been three days since our attack outside of Harmonia VI by an unknown party. Our shuttle, manned by myself and fourteen cadets in training, crash landed on an unknown non-federation planet on Stardate 2264.78. I managed to escape the crash with minor injuries, but some of my crew were not so fortunate. Our pilot, Cadet Trever Velnium, perished upon impact, Cadets VooHok and Amanda Hollis succumbed to their injuries on our second day, followed by Cadet Kent Vel-Nick this morning. The rest of us are trying to hold on, though most are in bad shape.

    As for our supplies, we have rationed our small emergency kit of food as best we can. But between those of us who survived the crash, the eleven of us remaining, I'm afraid we won’t have much left to last past four days. And our medical supplies are dwindling fast, I... I don’t know how much longer I can keep my injured crew members stable, some of the injuries are far too extensive for my knowledge and lack of supplies... I’m afraid a quick rescue from the Enterprise and Doctor McCoy will be their only hope...”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Ok, chapter two!! Getting more into the plot now! Let me know what you guys think and if you want to be added to the tag list. :)