#someone pointed out the “Laws of Hospitality” and how they keep getting broken in the oddessy

[table-top-romulan-playing-games]

Ya know, you would think after just killing the sheep in the cyclops cave back in the cyclops saga, and getting got by circe in the circe saga, the crew would know to check to make sure the house was empty before killi g the cattle

[atimeofyourlife]

Worried about your love

day 10| rated: g| wc: 900 | prompts: BLOW TO THE HEAD | Slurred Words | Passing Out from Pain | "I can't think straight." |ao3 Buck gets a head injury on the job, he's slurring his words to Tommy later in the hospital.

It wasn't the first time they'd been called to a collapse in a hoarder house, hell it wasn't even the first time they'd been called to a collapse in a boobytrapped hoarder house. It made just about everything about the job more difficult, not knowing where they could step without triggering a collapse or a trap. Buck was heading in first, making sure the way was clear and using a pole to detect any traps before they reached them.

He froze when a pile of newspapers ahead wobbled. He slowly crept forward, hoping to be able to sure it up with a beam that Eddie was following him with. But then it collapsed just before he reached it. And triggered an unseen trap. Buck didn't have chance to see what it was before the suspended heavy weight hit him in the head, sending him to the ground and knocking him out.

--

Tommy was in a good mood as he finished his shift. It'd been a good, easy shift. No bad calls, no major emergencies. Just enough calls to keep them from getting too bored. A couple of stuck hikers and a handful of medical transfers. He was going to head home and start dinner for when Evan came over. Evan's shift was a couple hours behind his own, but then they had a rare three days off together, and they'd planned to make the most of it with Evan coming over after the end of his shift. His good mood quickly soured as he reached his car and his phone rang. There was no good reason for Eddie to be calling while still on shift.

Evan had a head injury. He'd been knocked unconcious by a booby trap in a hoarder house. He may have broken a handful of traffic laws as he drove across town to meet the 118 at the hospital. Apparently the scene had been handed off to another company on the account of Evan's injury. He barely remembered to put his car in park before he was rushing in to the waiting room.

"How is he?" He asked as he approached the group in the corner.

"He's getting checked out. He did wake up in the ambulance but he was pretty confused. Slurred words and everything." Howie replied. "They're waiting on results of the scan before making the decision if he needs to be kept in overnight. It's far from the worst he's had."

"Thanks, Howie." Tommy let out a sigh of relief, and took a seat alongside the rest of them.

"You good, man?" Eddie asked, sitting down next to hi, and offering him a cup if the lousy coffee on offer at the hospital.

"Yeah." Tommy did his best to swallow back his feelings. "Yeah, just worried about Evan."

"I get it. We're all worried about him, but the rest of us have more experience with Buck being injured. We've all seen him bounce back from a lot worse. But it's your first time seeing him injured."

"But I've known about all the other injuries. That he came back from being dead."

"Knowing it and seeing it are two very different things. And I know Buck will be just as worried if and when you get injured. It's natural when you love someone." Eddie said quietly.

"I. We haven't-" Tommy didn't try to deny loving Evan. It'd been so easy, so fast for him to fall in love with him.

"You don't need to have said it yet. It's obvious to the rest of us how much you guys love each other at this point."

Tommy didn't reply, just ducked his head slightly. They lapsed into a comfortable silence while waiting for more information.

A nurse came out a while later. "Family of Evan Buckley?"

They all got up and made their way over to her. "How is he?" Bobby asked.

"He's awake, but there's still a little confusion. It's a grade three concussion, and we will be keeping him in a little longer for observation, but he should be able to head home tonight as long as he has someone to watch out for him. He can have visitors, but we are limiting it to a maximum of two people at a time, and we request you keep your voices down." The nurse explained. "Now, he's asking for Tommy."

"Go on, man. We can see him later."

Tommy nodded and followed the nurse down the hall.

"It's my Tommy." Evan said, his voice slightly slurred. His face had lit up the moment he noticed Tommy enter the room. "Sheila, I told you my Tommy would come."

"Hi, baby." Tommy said quietly, taking the seat next to the bed. "How're you feeling?"

"Hurts." Evan pouted. "But 's okay. They got me on the good stuff."

"Mmm, I bet. Make the most of it because once I get you home all I've got is tylenol." Tommy replied, aiming to get Evan to smile.

"Can I- can I tell you a ssecret?" Evan's eyes darted around the room, as he said it, stumbling a little over the words.

"You can tell me anything, Evan."

"I loves you." Evan tried to whisper, but failed. "I loves you so much 'm gonna marry you one day."

"I love you too, Evan." Tommy replied, a soft smile forming. "But lets leave the marriage talk until after you feel better."

[quinloki]

Roronoa Zoro - Sweet

Requestor: @sunshinegat0r Reader Vibes Requested: AFAB she/her CW: Hospital, injuries, references to a car accident, loads of guilt

Notes: Ahhh... I'm realizing I wrote this in the Wrong AU - Gat0r I'm so sorry, I hope this is okay. I wrote this in the Mafia City AU, and not the Grandline Metro AU >.< Mega Oops on my part.

Please note in this AU the Reader is the adopted daughter of Edward Newgate (who is Law's Father's Father, making them Aunt and Nephew.) This AU was used in Family Ties and Family Practice (the reader is not adopted in that one, but it's the same world and Reader)

This is heckin' embarrassing I can't believe I confused my own AUs 😅😵‍💫

“Whaddya mean-!” Zoro couldn’t believe his ears, he pushed back on Law reflexively before he managed to calm down.

“… She… she doesn’t remember me?” The question is in disbelief, and Law’s never heard the rough-edged fighter sound so broken before, or look it.

“It’s barely been a full day since the wreck, Zoro-ya.” He answers, moving to physically put his face in front of Zoro’s and get his attention. “It’s a miracle she was awake in the first place.”

Understanding crosses his features and he steps back from the doctor and the door to your room. He’s quiet for a moment, taking in the sounds of the hospital, and the steady beep from your room.

“Is it… safe for me to see her right now?”

“Safe, how?”

“Will she… will it hurt her to see me?” He questions, brows furrowing. “I don’t want to go in there for myself if it’ll… I don’t know, upset her, to see me.”

“… She’s sleeping for now. If you don’t stay too long you can see her.” Law answers. “I can text you when she’s up tomorrow, I still have to break the news to her brothers.”

Zoro nods, stepping around Law and moving into your room. You looked peaceful, despite the bandages and wires hooked up to you. It was almost impossible to believe you were actually awake.

It was hard to believe you were alive.

You’d picked up extra shifts to help him with the busy season and the two of you were running solo for the last two weeks. Hell, all six drivers Zoro had were running solo just trying to keep up with the need for the holidays.

It was a hit and run, and he hadn’t been there.

He could have been, though. If he had been willing to have everyone work a little longer, he could’ve paired people up the way he preferred. It wasn’t the law to have two people in the truck, but it was the usual process for him - for his business.

And the one time he decides different, this is the cost.

Sitting by your bed, Zoro puts his head in his hands, trying desperately to keep his spiraling emotions in check. This can’t be about his guilt, not so soon, not until he knows. If you don’t recover properly, if your memory doesn’t return, then he’ll cut himself out of your life of his own will. He won’t let you risk yourself again, not because of him.

The burden of this will be his to bear alone.

He can take it.

He can’t trade places with you, so ensuring he’s never the reason you hurt is a small price.

You’ve got dozens of brothers, adopted darling of the Newgate family. No one in this city would purposefully hurt you, and hells, that might be the reason the driver fled the scene in the first place.

Not that such an act would save them. You made friends with Doflamingo accidentally, and there’s no way someone so well-connected would let the culprit get away.

If only Newgate and Doflamingo would turn their ire on him. Even if you recover fully what he did was-

“You’re ‘pose’ta read to someone in a coma,” you mutter, lips and body heavy from the aches and exhaustion. Zoro looks up, wide-eyed and agog to the point of it being comical. “Or confess about how much you love ‘em,” you add, giving him a weak smile.

“Wha-.” He stares. “Law- The doc said you’d be asleep for a while.”

“Docs worry too much,” you reply, giving him a small smile. “You okay?”

“Am - Am I okay?” He nearly barks. “Are you kidding me right now?”

You shake your head. “You look like hell, Marimo.”

“Have you seen- wait,” Zoro freezes, on his feet, hands on the railing on the side of your hospital bed. “Do you… remember me?”

“I’ve known you most of my life, how could I forget you?” You grunt, the words nearly a grumble.

“What… what do you remember?” He questions, sitting back down. You can see the blood already starting to drain out of his face.

“What do you mean, what do I remember?”

“You couldn’t remember your name earlier.” A gruff voice says from the doorway, as Law walks in. He seems to be glaring at Zoro, but Law’s default face was kind of glare-y. He covers the distance from door to bedside quickly and is already shining a very annoying light in your eyes.

“I don’t remember being up before now,” you growl, squinting against the light. “I should’ve stayed asleep if you were just going to blind me.”

Law moves the light away an frowns. “What’s your name?”

“… (Y/N), Newgate (Y/N) since Pops adopted me, making me your aunt.” You answer, flipping him off even though the action made your arm ache.

Law continued to ask you a series of questions, and you knew most of them were because he had to. You must’ve really worried him the first time you supposedly came around, even though you couldn’t remember it, cause he laid out all twenty questions.

Zoro went through an impressive number of emotions, trying desperately to maintain his composure and not interrupt Law. It was cute on the one hand, but if he had been afraid you’d forgotten him, well, that would explain his earlier behavior.

Law leaves the two of you once he’s satisfied, and even offers to have a cot brought in so Zoro can stay the night.

Zoro’s head is back in his hands, and you give him a few moments.

“If I hadn’t,” he starts, voice shaky. “We should’ve…” He shakes his head. “I shouldn’t had put one driver to one truck. This is my-.”

“It’s the driver’s fault.” You interject. “I had,” you wince a little trying to sit up and Zoro moves to help you, adjusting the bed as you talk. “My high-vis vest on and everything. They cut down the alley so fast, there was no helping it.”

You chuckle a little, pained and short. “If I hadn’t jumped,” you shake your head. “No, never mind. I’m here… so… stay with me.” You reach out and he takes your hand without hesitation. “I’m lost without you, Zoro, so please… please don’t take a guilt trip and leave me alone.”

Hanging his head he snorts, shaking his head enough his earrings chime. “That was terrible.”

You smile. “It was perfect.” You tighten your grip on his hand. “Promise me.”

“I promise.” He says, kissing your fingers gently.

“Every other delivery company runs one driver to one truck.” You continue to push. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“… I did one thing wrong.” He insists. “I should’ve hired on more help. I shouldn’t have compromised how I run my business.”

You sigh. “I suppose I can accept that.”

The two of you stayed that way quietly for a few long minutes, the steady beep of your heart monitor and the quiet din of activity in the hall the only sounds for a little bit.

“Zoro?” You prompt and he looks at you after kissing the top of your hand.

“Yeah?”

“If… If I ever do forget, don’t… don’t let me, okay?”

“Huh?”

“No matter the circumstances, promise you’ll help me remember.” You assert. “Everything. All of it, every time… please.”

“Every time.” He promises, kissing your hand again.

[catkin-morgs-kookaburralover]

@nerdy-catfish

When a law threatens both her liberty and her life, Anneka marries her dearest friend Vaniah out of necessity. But as they grow closer, she discovers the demons he has always hidden from her…. A tale of faith, darkness, and healing, and how two broken people can hold one another together with God's help.

That's the summary I currently have for this project. It's not a very good summary but it works.

In the prologue, they meet; Vaniah accidentally shows up on the doorstep, rather than at the church. Anneka lets him in, finds her brother and gets them to talk.

As she closed the door quietly, she heard Vaniah say almost mockingly, “So, tell me about the Bible and why you choose to follow it. Indeed—teach me to live,” and he laughed, but there was no humour in it.

He's entirely serious, though she doesn't know it then, about the whole 'teach me to live' business: he was planning on finding out if Christianity had any merit, and if he found it did not, he was going to kill himself that afternoon.

A bit of time goes by and they get married, because of a law (or rather to avoid the law). (There's a fun little scene there, where Vaniah begs her to consider his suit rather than face the punishment, and he knows what the punishment would be like because he helped to oversee it at one time.) Anyway.

Things change when Vaniah wakes Anneka with screaming nightmares almost every night; she begins to suspect some dark or horrible secret he carries to inflict his guilt thus.

“I’m here to bear your burdens as you are to bear mine, you know.” “My burdens would be like to crush you as they crush me,” he retorted, then added more gently, “It’s time for breakfast. What shall I get you?”

Then comes a scene I never intended to write; but at the time I had to write it or bust. Anneka walks in on Vaniah trying to kill himself. It's pretty graphic and indeed Vaniah barely survives. He goes to hospital and gets all fixed up and all that, but it does leave him with permanent injuries I need to delve into more.

However: it is the start of more frank discussions between them. Anneka is understandably absolutely terrified he's going to try again at some point, especially as it was completely out of left field: sure, she knew he had demons, but didn't realise they were this bad. She hadn't imagined that he felt bad enough to end his life at all. There's a few fun scenes while he's on suicide watch after he self-discharged from the hospital, and Anneka won't let him out of her sight for a while, which leads to fun things.

Anger flashed in his eyes and in the tight set of his jaw. “You have no idea what it’s like.” “Then tell me.” Her lips parted. Vaniah raised his eyebrows slightly. “Are you sure you want to know?” “Tell me everything—only if you want to.” He smiled fleetingly. “You asked for it.” They sat long there, no motion, but only his low voice telling her of what he had done. Anneka grew whiter and whiter, and presently she felt dizzy and could scarcely see his face. Vaniah never looked at her as he spoke, until the very end: and then he too blanched, and sprang from his chair to come very close to her.

He begins being more honest about everything with her. Indeed he is beginning to heal, a little; she keeps on reminding him of the Godly things to do, even though he doesn't want to hear it. At some point, too, she walks in on him drinking himself into oblivion, though despite writing that scene I've lost it so I have to rewrite it sometime.

In fact we're just about to get to an exciting plot point, in perhaps a few thousand words, in which Vaniah meets someone from his past: in fact someone who shows up in the whump.....

Anyway in summary the rest of the book is more of the same about him growing and recovering, but there are Lots of fun scenes and little plot points that will all pull together into a glorious whole, I hope. But the story is understandably pretty dark. It is front and centre a Christian book, though.

[rebellionevoked]

— VALENTINA + OWEN.

“Yeah, she was a handful. Still, sometimes I miss her confidence.” Her head dropped, eyes studying how her fingers picked at her nail beds wishing she had another drink in her hand as a distraction. It was an odd mixture of nervous and comfortableness. He existed somewhere in between stranger and acquaintance, but a shared love for his family filled in some of the newness. It felt refreshing to have someone look at her and not see the broken little bird all those close to her did. Her smile turned bashful at his comment, trying not put too much on the fact he called her attractive. Val tucked the strand of hair hanging in her face behind her ears. The lines seemed blurry to her, but it felt like she probably shouldn’t be flirting with her boss’s brother. But, wasn’t this all still so innocent? All she could manage was a shake of the head at his next question. The noise of the bar faded into the background. She lost interest in everything happening around her. “Not in a really long time no.” Val always struggled to talk about her past, even with her siblings. Everyone knew - everyone knew how her ex treated her, how she ended up in the hospital, and why she came home. None of that mattered. Trying to say it out loud herself always choked her up. “I guess I didn’t really do much of anything for a really long time.” Val shrugged, wondering why she felt the urge to bare her soul to him. The statement, while still vague, perhaps was more than any one else got from her. Her eyes held a bit of sadness in them contrasting the smile remaining on her face. “Yeah, dark and mysterious.” She nodded with a bit of a giggle. Val worried she could still be a bit naive. After everything, she still assumed the good in most people. He didn’t seem as gruff as he probably liked to lead on in her opinion. “It the whole quiet guy keeping to himself thing you have going on, when every girl in here is definitely wishing you’d come say hello.” Her comment mirroring his about her on the bar. Inhibitions slowly faded away the more the alcohol settled.

He intrigued her. He’d always intrigued her. Tonight felt like the first opportunity to get to know him. “A lawyer?” Val always possessed a linear form of thinking when it came to her future. It was inspiring to hear of people switch career paths or discovering new passions later in life, because she always felt so lost when it came to what she wanted to do. “Do you miss it?” Her head tilted to the side wondering why he stopped. “I never really wanted to be anything until I became a nanny so in a way yes.” She explained. Her little smile grew wide thinking about his niece and nephew. Not that his sister and brother-in-law knew it, but Val credited this job to saving her life. “Kids get me.” Another giggled fell from her painted lips.

.

     “Why’s it something to miss?” The way Owen figured it, understanding the wistfulness, if she opened up that line of dialogue then it was likely she was willing to talk about it. Still, he treaded somewhat lightly regardless, understanding all too well how intrusive lines of inquiries could do harm. Not that he would openly point it out, certainly not outside of an intimate setting, but it was in her body language and the way she carried herself that she’d been shot down back when she had once soared so high. Owen wasn’t really sure how much he should proceed. If it was wise to get to know his sister’s babysitter on a deeper, more personal, level or if there should be a respectable distance between them. Was he even ready or equipped for that anymore?

     At most, Owen nodded, decidedly letting her come out with it in her own time. Perhaps he was more sensitive to it due to how much he could relate to her simple statements. He hadn’t done much of anything for a long time either. For six years to be exact. During that time life, humanity, what it meant to be human had all but faded away from him and assimilating back into everyday life had been a challenge he’d found difficult to overcome. Death had been accepted even if he’d been innocent and even if he’d begun to believe that he had done the unthinkable. “Welcome to the club. I think it’s just you and me but welcome regardless.” His hand gestured between them and Owen cracked a small smile for her as he wondered if Valentina had understood what he’e meant. The man was thankful his sister hadn’t vented to her about him and everything that had happened, the struggles they still faced. It was something he very much wanted to open up to people in his own time, should he choose to do so. “I don’t really like going out anyway. This is about it for me.” And it was work. That giggle of hers made him smile once more and Owen wasn’t sure if that were a bad or good thing the tinge of interest he felt in hearing more and more of it. “Oh, I don’t think every girl...” The words trailed off as blue eyes searched around his pub. “You ladies shouldn’t go ‘round trying to fix every broken man you come across.” It was both advice and a warning when his eyes returned to look at her.

     “Not really.” In the moments following his shrug, Owen leaned into the hand that had propped him up at the bar. “I don’t have a desire to be apart of the law anymore.” It had failed him so horribly and truthfully there was a lot of damage and trauma that he still had to work through when it had come to what he’d accepted. Standing by something that had failed him in the worst possible ways was impossible. Like most, Valentina seemed to be interested in him and perhaps she’d been right that his mystery drew people in. If he was going to let her get to know him then he would need an even give and take. “Well you’re really good with children so I could see that. Have you ever thought of going into early education?” His niece and nephew adored her and there was a charm about her that even Owen couldn’t ignore. “Do you wanna grab a seat?” A table off to the side was gestured to, an offering of somewhere to sit that was a bit more private.

[callmebrycelee]

9-1-1 REACTION

This reaction is for the season 6, fifth episode "Home Invasion '' which originally aired on October 17, 2022. The episode was written by Nadia Abass-Madden and directed by Marita Grabiak. Spoilers ahead!

The latest episode of 9-1-1 is very Hen and Maddie-centric and in many ways quite bittersweet. We start the episode off with maybe one of the dumbest characters we've ever encountered on this show. Now, in all fairness, the woman, whose name is Sharlo Darzi (Devika Parikh) is older and she is home alone due to her husband being out of town, so perhaps it is fear that caused her to act so irrationally. When she hears a noise coming from downstairs, she does the correct thing by calling 9-1-1. Thankfully she gets veteran dispatcher Josh Russo (Bryan Safi) on the line and he gives her a list of instructions to keep her safe until law enforcement arrives. Rather than stay put in her bedroom or lock herself in a closet or bathroom, Sharlo decides to head downstairs to confront whomever or whatever is making such a ruckus in her home. In a very tense scene, we watch her go from one darkened room to another and when she arrives in the kitchen, she screams, and then the line goes dead. 

Athena arrives on the scene and finds the woman's cordless phone broken on the phone. The 118 (sans Hen) show up moments later and they find the woman sprawled on the floor, unconscious. Eddie runs her fingers across her sternum and she rouses. She attempts to move but she has a pelvic injury which causes her great pain. Bobby tells her to keep still while Athena asks her about the person who seemingly broke into her home. The woman tells her that it wasn't a person - it was a monster.

Buck heads into the nearby kitchen and sees breadcrumbs on the floor. He follows them until he arrives at the pantry. When he opens the door, he is surprised to find a raccoon. The woman is loaded in an ambulance to be taken to a hospital while animal control comes to collect the trash bandit. Turns out the adorable critter got into the house via a doggy door that is no longer in use. I'd like to point out that this moment where the woman is complaining about her husband not removing the dog door is plays into what ultimately happens at the end of this episode.

Cue title card.

We then head over to Chimney's place where he's having a quiet breakfast with Maddie. I'm so happy these two are back together and I think this is exactly what they needed - a fresh start. Looking back at the genesis of their romance, so much of it was mired by trauma and tragedy. Now the two of them seem stable. They're doing great at co-parenting Jee-Yun. Speaking of Jee-Yun, our little one has gotten so big and now she has a nanny named Magda (shout out to Sex and the City). Having someone else who isn't one of their friends or family members leave with their daughter is hard for Chimney and Maddie but Magda seems totally legit. 

Over at Bobby and Athena's, May returns home so she can study. Apparently her roommate's boyfriend is always over. Man, this reminded me so much of when I was in college and living in the dorms. Anytime my roommate's girlfriend would come over, I would conveniently be doing something outside of the room. There's nothing worse than trying to be comfortable in your own room while some random person is all up in your personal space. I digress. Anywho, Athena sneezes and when May asks her if she's okay, Bobby enters with their new dog Hoover. Athena admits that she's allergic to the puppers but didn't want to say anything because she knew how attached Bobby has become to Hoover. Bobby suggests that Hoover move in with May but May, too, is also allergic to dogs. Bobby decides that Hoover will need a new home.

Meanwhile, Maddie receives a call from an older gentleman reporting intruders in his home. This guy, unlike the woman at the beginning of the episode, actually listens to Maddie and follows her instructions. Unfortunately, he is confronted by the intruders and there are multiple gunshots heard over the phone. Maddie is appropriate traumatized by the call and later sees a report about it on the local news. Sue Blevins finds her in the break room and lets her know that the guy was taken to the hospital and that he is alive and going into surgery. Maddie tells Sue that she's surprirsed about a home invasion taking place during the middle of the day. Sue tells her that crime is on the rise and criminals are getting more brazen. 

It turns out the victim of the homicide, whose name is Samir Darzi (Joseph Kamal), is the husband of Sharlo Darzi, the woman who got injured running from a raccoon in her pantry. Athena along with Detective Rick Romero (Danny Nucci) arrive at the Darzi's home and head upstairs where Samir was shot by the intruders. Athena wonders why Samir was home when his wife said he was out of town. Romero tells her that he came home once he heard about what happened to Sharlo and was packing a bag to take to the hospital when the intruders broke in. Athena finds it strange that there have been two home invasion calls from the same residence, less than 12 hours apart.

Next, we check in on Hen who is still adjusting to life outside of medical school. She gets a visit from Bobby who asks if she would be willing to take in Hoover. Hen declines because Karen is still not over the death of their dog Paisley who has been inexplicably absent for quite some time. Denny sees the dog and immediately asks Hen if they can keep him. Bobby leaves before Hen has a chance to change her mind.

Our next emergency involves a young woman (Edy Ganem) and her brother Vincent (Eddie Aguirre). The sister has just moved into a place of her own and is attempting to fix the place up on her own. Vincent arrives at the request of their mother and offers to spray this foam in the attic which will help with heating and cooling costs. He assures her he knows what he's doing and heads outside to get things set up. While up in the attic, he starts spraying the foam but then there's a kink in the cord. This causes the machine to back up which causes the hose to erupt. Vincent gets tangled in the hose and falls and hits his head. While unconscious, the installation spray continues to spew and he gets covered in the process.

The 118 arrive on the scene and attempt to reach Vincent in the attic. They end up having to remove a piece of the ceiling to lower him down. By now, the installation foam has hardened and Vincent is encased in it like a mosquito in amber (shout out to Jurassic Park). They manage to free Vincent from his purple casing and he is rushed to the hospital. On the way he nearly crashes but Chimney and Eddie manage to revive him. Vincent's sister is relieved and he tells her all he wanted to do is help. He asks her if the house is okay and she shares a knowing look with Eddie and Chimney.

At the police station, Romero reports that the break-in at the Darzi's home wasn't an isolated incidents. Other homes in weathy neighborhood in Los Angeles have been hit recently at different times of the day, presumably by the same intruders. What makes the Dazri's home invasion so notable is that someone was actually home during the break-in. Athena believes the two masked men know in advance that the homes are going to be empty before they rob them but wonders how they are getting this information. After going through police interviews, Athena and Romero discover that all of the break-insinvolved homeowners who'd recently experienced an accident or medical emergency that landed in the hospital. Athena deduces that if someone is experiencing a medical emergency, the first person they're going to reach out to is 9-1-1.

Athena and Romero arrive at the dispatch center to get Maddie's assistance. Athena hands Maddie a list of all the home invasion victims and she looks up each of the calls in the system to see who took them. As it turns out, several dispatchers took the emergency calls, however, Maddie notices that someone using her login accessed each recording of the 9-1-1 calls. 

Meanwhile, Chimney returns to his apartment to find Magda the babysitter cleaning out the cabinets. She sees that Chimney is wearing shoes and insists that he take them off so he doesn't get the floor dirty. Chimney retreats to the bathroom where Maddie is hiding out. The two of them are extremely uncomfortable with Magda taking over their home but they are nervous about confronting her. Chimney asks Maddie about her day and she tells him that she's a suspect in a string of burglaries. She further explains that the police believes someone at the call center is using notes from emergency calls to pick out potential victims. The good news is that Maddie should be okay since she wasn't even at the call center when her login was used. Chimney suggests that maybe someone stole her password.

Back at the call center, Maddie heads to the break out room. Noah (Alfonso Caballero) approaches her and asks if she's okay. Maddie tells him that she thinks she's about to get fired and when he seems surprised by this she tells him that the police think she's the one responsible for the home invasions. Noah thinks that's crazy and tells her that she didn't even take most of the 9-1-1 calls. Maddie tells him that her login was used to access the call recordings. Noah insists that she didn't do anything wrong and that it would be wrong if she got fired. Maddie tells him that none of that matters. She then talks about how much she loves helping people and saving lives.

Noah's guilty conscious gets the best of him and he admits to her that he used her password to access the phone call recordings. He says that he used the calls to determine when the victims' homes would be empty and he passed along the information. Maddie appears shocked by this information and asks why he would do that. Noah tells her that his stepfather got into some money trouble and ended up borrowing money from some bad people. When his stepfather couldn't repay them, they hurt him and said they would hurt Noah and his mom if the money wasn't repaid. Noah insists he was too scared to tell anyone and asks if Maddie could help him. Gee, Noah - it's a little too late to be asking that because Maddie is wearing a wire and Athena and Romero are listening in on the conversation. Noah asks if there's anything he can do and Maddie tells him that he can start by telling the police everything. Noah gives him the whereabouts of where the next robbery will take place. Luckily Athena and Romero are able to get there before the two robbers arrive and they are able to apprehend them. Ugh, Noah. I thought you were going to be the new May. The new young person at the call center who Maddie gets to mentor. But now you're just a criminal. Good riddance!

Meanwhile, Hen and Karen wake up to Hoover destroying their home. They hand the dog over to Eddie. Hoover then proceeds to destroy Eddie and Christopher's apartment. Eddie attempts to pass Hoover off to Chimney but Magda closes the door in his face. Eddie then takes Hoover to his bestie Buck's apartment but Buck's landlord refuses to let him keep him. Now let's talk about Hen. Now that she has a second chance at medical school, she's determined not to throw away her shot (shout out to Hamilton). She arrives for at the hospital to begin her rounds with Dr. Margaret Simmons (Gayla Johnson). It was so great seeing Hen do what she's good at. Even though she had a misstep with her year 2 exam, it's so very obvious that Hen has what it takes to be a great doctor. Being a paramedic has taught her empathy and how to see the humanity in all types of people, something that is lacking with a lot of healthcare providers these days. At the end of the shift, she asks Dr. Simmons how she did. Before we get an answer, we head over to Bobby and Athena's where the fire captain is throwing a going away barbecue for his veteran paramedic. 

It's a bittersweet moment watching Bobby and Athena and Chimney and Buck and Eddie reminiscence about their time spent with Hen. I think back to how Chimney stuck his neck out for Hen when she was being treated poorly by the old fire captain. I think about how Athena took her under her wing when she saw a fellow black woman in distress and how they became close friends over the years. I think about how Hen and Buck's relationship and how she has a special kind of patience that the others don't have for him. I think about her relationship with Bobby and how the two of them have been there for each other doing the roughest and toughest moments of their lives and careers. Hen stuck by Bobby when he admitted he needed help with addiction and when Hen accidentally killed the young girl while driving the ambulance, Bobby immediately called Athena because he knew that she was going to need a good friend with her. Then there's her relationship with Eddie. Even though they don't appear as close as she is with the others, I love that their kids are friends and we sometimes see just the two of them hanging out independent of the rest of the 118. 

I don't know what's in store for Hen but I'm really excited to see what's next for her in upcoming episodes. 

At the end of the episode, Maddie fires Magda (good riddance), Eddie and Buck and a few others from the 118 show up to Vincent's sister's house to help her with renovations, and Hoover finds a new home at the Darzi's residence now that the two of them have recovered from their injuries. Just when things are looking good for everyone, we get a scene at the tail-end of the episode where Karen is making a 9-1-1 call. We see her at work and it looks like a bomb has gone off. She sees body parts on the floor. It looks really, really bad and I'm seriously nervous about Karen. I hope they don't do anything to her, especially now that things are finally looking up for Hen. I know Traci Thoms get s a LOT of work and I hope they're not about to kill her off because she's on a new show. I guess I'll have to stick around and wait to see what happens next week. Until next time ...

[sashi-ya]

Hello! I hope you are doing fine! Can I request the rough sex OS (the jealousy one) with Law? And with a shy s/o? I have a soft spot for a possessive Law.

Hi! 👋 I loved this request in specific, I love possessive Law too!. I wrote this little OS on a modern AU. She is a coffee shop barista, and Law of course is a surgeon. I hope you like it!! 💖 Thanks for reading! ~

NSFW ~ Trafalgar Law x F! Reader ~ Possessive & Rough Sex 🔥

TW: Explicit sex, violence, nosebleeding.

WC: 2064

A slow morning serving lattes and cold brews finds you bored, gazing several times at your phone screen, maybe your friends or your boyfriend Law sends something to pull you out from the boredom.

All the doctors, nurses and hospital workers are occupied with their duties, including Law. “He must be operating someone”, you think and simply grab a book, because these are the hours when no one enters your coffee shop.

The time flies by when you lose yourself in the written adventures of some books, so the workers begin to arrive at your shop hungry for lunch. You receive them happily, and despite you being a little shy, you always show a smile to your customers.

Mrs. Walker asks you for a special type of salad, but you don’t have it there on display. “I have more on the kitchen, wait a sec, I’ll bring you one from there!”, you tell her and head to the back of the store. When you come back, you see the only customer you wished never enters your store. He is an abuser, a stalker, a harasser. It is indeed Law's colleague. You haven’t told him, because you didn’t want to affect your boyfriend’s career as a surgeon, so you put up with that bastard's constant sexual advances.

You give Mrs. Walker the salad, and she walks away with a smile, because that son of a bitch looks and acts like an angel in front of the others, but when he is alone with you, he won’t stop telling how you should leave Law and instead try a good dick for once.

“Hello darling, have you already left Law?”, he greets you. You smile at him, you think you are not strong enough to confront him, so you just smile, close your hand into a fist and ask him what he is having. “Can I order you?”, he asks you shamelessly, approaching himself closer to you, laying his body against the counter.

You are disgusted, you just wish you had a gun to blow his head off. You smile again, and let a false giggle slip out of your mouth, but your eyes begin to get teary. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I saw you with a bikini on your Instagram post yesterday and I couldn’t resist!!. A vanilla latte would be awesome!”. He says, grinning at you. You nod, and head to the coffee machine and prepare his order.

You hand the plastic cup with the Latte served to the harasser, hoping, praying he would pay and leave as soon as possible. But this time, he goes too far. He has the audacity of snatching your hand when you give the cup to him. He pulls from you making your whole body hit hard against the inner part of the counter. Your face is really close to his, you start to panic, but you can’t make him let go of you. He keeps pulling, approaching his face even more to yours, “don’t act as if you didn't want to be kissed, come on, you little slut”, he says to you.

“She said no, bastard”, you hear Law’s voice and next the disgusting stalker receives a direct punch from Law’s tattooed hands. Yet, he doesn’t give up and stands up, hitting your boyfriend's handsome face. Drops of blood begin to stream down from his nose, and land over his white coat. Law uses his forearm to wipe the blood away and smiles at him. That son of a bitch was hurting, trying to steal what’s his. YOU. And he wouldn’t allow that to happen.

This time Law punches the guy on the stomach, and when he bends due to the pain he was experiencing, your boyfriend uses his knee to finish him. When the stalker finally lies on the ground, spitting some blood because of a pair of broken teeth, Law looks down at him and says “I told you to stay away from her. Get the fuck out of here”.

His colleague stands up and runs out of the store, threatening Law with suing him. “Heh...He’s not going to do any of that”, he says smirking, victorious and still nose bleeding.

You are crying, unable to move, astonished. He looks at you, and says, “Are you ok?”. “Y- yes. It's nothing…” you tell him, still not moving a single muscle. But Law, who had a different expression than he usually has, a more primal one, walks behind the counter and grabs you by your wrist.

“Why weren’t you saying anything to him? Why were you smiling at him? Stop crying”, he says to you, shaking your arm. “How many times I have to tell you you should be fiercer; I won’t be here every single time a bastard wants to fuck you!!”. You know exactly he wasn’t being unfair with you, but this was the way he had to tell you he was deeply worried by you… yet he continues. “I’m starting to believe you wanted him to do that to you, huh? you weren’t telling him nothing”.

“Law! that…. that’s not true”, you tell him. You have stopped crying, and you begin to get angry. “I must show you who you belong to, then”, he says to you with that grumpy voice and pulls you to the back of the store.

“L-Law… stop!! you are bleeding, let me…”, you try to say as he pulls from you, but he interrupts you. “Shut the fuck up!”. He was pissed, but… horny? You try to reach to his nose, maybe to clean him up, because he won’t stop bleeding, but he backs his head up, snorting his own blood. An evil grin draws on his face, and he licks the blood that slowly covers his upper lip.

“Oh…”, you voice, damn how sexy he looks. At first you feel guilty to feel so attracted to him bleeding, hurt, with his disheveled black hair and his white coat stained red. His intense grey eyes are fixed on yours, and shamefully, subtly, almost unnoticeable bit your lower lip…

“You are mine; don’t you know that?”, he tells you and begins to walk towards you. You remain still until his right hand starts squeezing your neck. “L-Law…” you gasp. “What?”, he tells you, pissed, approaching his face to the left side of your face. Your legs tremble, it’s not exactly because you are afraid…

He squeezes harder and harder the sides of your neck, you try to gasp for air and when you begin to feel lightheaded, he orders you to walk to the kitchen counter of the cafeteria. “Babe… the- the store is open. A client could enter…”, you tell him. “I hope so, so they learn who you belong to”, he says. “But…”, you try to complain.

“Shut up”, he tells you, and tangles your hair around his veiny hand, pushing you, in order to bend your body over the cold metal of the counter. He bends over you; you can already feel his hard rock sex against you. Law bites the shell of your ear, and then, without letting your hair go, turns your head to the side so he can invade your mouth with his wet tongue.

A ferrous taste from the blood lingers on your mouth as you make out. He moves his hips with a pounding motion. Your breasts are pressed against the metal table, and the thin fabric of your blouse allows the cold to hit and erect your nipples. “I’m in the mood to fuck you right now, no foreplay”, he says, and slide down your pants and panties with just one hand. You are left completely exposed to him, your ass up, you are ready to be penetrated.

He lowers his zipper down and frees his hard member. Law plays with it over your ass, pinning you to the counter, threatening to fuck you rough there. You beg him “please, no no”. “Haha, I know I know babe, I’m not gonna hurt you”, he says laughing with his lips pressed against your ear.

You are more aroused than you should be, but also really worried some customers might enter, so for a second your mind focuses on hearing if someone is there. But suddenly you are brought back to the kitchen, when Law roughly, violently, and with a grunt, penetrates you. Fast thrusts, fast and deep thrusts, stretch your walls, and the tip of his dick hits exactly that perfect point.

“So wet and tight… babe…”, he gasps as he feels your sex pulse around his dick. You can help but whine and moan his name, as he hits over and over that spot inside you.

You suddenly hear the bell of the door announcing a new customer entering the store. Panicking, you whisper Law “Babe… someone… e-entered…”. Your voice cracking with every thrust. “So what? you want to show them?”, he tells you laughing and fucking you even harder.

“Is anyone here?”, a man asks from the store. “Fuck fuck fuck”, you think trying to cover your mouth not to be heard by the customer. But Law has other intentions… “I got an idea…”, he says and pulls from your hair, still without detaching from you, to make you stand up. “Go tell him, you’ll be right there”, he tells you, with a devil grin. “What?”, you ask him, how are you supposed to tell him, being half naked, and with Law’s dick still inside you. “B-but Law… stop it” you tell him, mortified. “What? Are you ashamed of being fucked at work? Go tell him, don’t show your body…”, he commands and pushes you softly to the door.

Your heart races, your cheeks are red with that sex glow, your hair is a mess, you are sweating. Picking through the kitchen entrance, you greet the customer, “Hey, S-Sir… I’ll be right t-…” Law thrusts you, deep. “Theeeere… in a se-cond”. You barely managed to tell the guy those words, your heart -and your core- is about to explode. You have spoken to a customer while being fucked behind the thin wall that separates the kitchen from the counter…

“Good girl”, says Law enjoying your suffering and turns you around. He lifts you up and sits you over the table where you normally knead bread for the cafeteria. He takes off his white coat covered in blood stains from his nose hemorrhage and takes off his pants. He crawls over you on the table and begin to fuck you so rough, and while he does it with one of his hand, he pinches one of your nipples and twist the hell out of it.

He bites your neck; you carve your nails over his back. You are getting there, and he is too. Flour flying everywhere, your breasts look like cakes ready to be baked. Law has baking powder all over his nose. Pounding you, calling you “MY little slut”. You try to hold your moans, but Law slaps your cheek, and you are now whining, and crying his name. You have forgotten any shame, the customer, the food, the cafeteria.

You are about to come when you hear your name being shouted in horror. “Y/N?!”, your manager is right there standing, witnessing your spectacle… “What the fuck? a customer is waiting for you there… and you are... FUCKING OVER THE FOOD?”.

Law looks at you and hopes off. “Tch, I hate bread, fucking flour”, he says while brushes the rest of the white material off his shirt. You are sitting there, with your whole ass over the table, covered in flour, a white mess, half naked. You are a shy person… yeah… until today. “I’m sorry, boss. I’m leaving my apron and imma head out”, you tell him. “Right”, says your manager, still without becoming aware of what has just happened and walks away excusing himself with the customer.

Law and you quickly get dressed, both look at each other and begin to laugh uncontrollably. Once you are ready to leave, you bite the inside of your cheeks just to avoid laughing in front of your now -ex boss-. And while you are heading out, Law stands next to the manager, puts a hand over his shoulder and tells him, “Just for the record, she IS mine”.

You both leave, and continue what you have started at home… 💖🔥

[hargrove-mayfields]

Day one of the Horror on Cherry Lane Challenge! I’ll be participating this month as a writer! The prompt for today is Knife!

warnings for mentions of suicidal ideation and attempts, death, child abuse, and blood.

Billy met Steve in the psych ward.

Well, they met officially at Tina’s party, but that wasn’t the real Steve. That was the King Steve. Deeper than that though, even the Steve Harrington everyone else saw even after the breakup and the fall from grace still wasn’t the real thing.

That was fake smiles, overdone nonchalance to cover up the wound from his fallen status. Now he was stripped down to himself, all bloody bandages and tired eyes, the boy he was pretending to be finally broken down to reveal this.

Apparently, Ruthie Harrington found her son with his grandfather's switchblade- all the other objects in the house sharper than a spoon and with less sentimental value had already been tossed -bleeding all over her freshly polished linoleum floors. She dropped him off at the hospital a night ago and nobody’s been by to see him since.

Now, it’s by pure coincidence that Billy’s already in on the same day Steve’s admitted.

He’s been locked up the past three days compared to Steve’s one. These small town hicks are jumpier (ha) than he thought, and don’t think doing the walk and turn test on the edge of the quarry after downing a bottle and a half of fireball is as funny as he does. Whatever. Cid would’ve thought that was badass as hell.

So he was admitted, on suicide watch for a stupid joke that wasn’t really worth it, or even really a joke. Max came to visit once. She punched him in the chest as hard as she could and cursed him out for an hour. She’d never done that before. By the time she left they were both in tears, and maybe Billy realized a thing or too about his carelessness. Realized for the first time that someone cared.

But he’s still in here for another week and a half by law, so. He’s not going to mope about it. And while Steve Harrington showing up is about the last thing he’s expecting, he decides that’s at least something he can work with. Definitely brings a little life to the place.

He waits until Steve’s intense watch period is over to bug him, once they’re out of their cramped little rooms for a couple of hours to “socialize” (see, the more sound of mind keep an eye on the other patients while the nurses take their smoke breaks) Billy goes straight to Steve. Him and Harrington are far from friends, but that’s pretty much irrelevant when the only other choices for company are kids younger than them too scared to approach them and people too deep in their midlife crises to bother with teenage drama.

Throwing himself down in the blue plastic chair across from where Steve settled in, Billy kicks his feet up on the table,, “What’s up Harrington? Didn’t expect to see a familiar face in here.”

But Steve, poor Steve, takes one look at Billy with those haunted brown eyes, and his face just falls completely apart. There are tears on his way too pale cheeks before Billy even has a chance to breathe.

The smile drops off of Billy’s face, “Jesus Harrington, I know m’not looking my best surviving on hospital food and cigarettes without a hairbrush, but that’s a little unwarranted.”

“Shut up. Not everything’s about you, Hargrove.”

“Oh I disagree with that. But I get the point. I’ll let ya be.” Billy hums, scooting his chair back and getting up. He stops when Steve starts to speak, “Y-You outta be careful saying that kinda stuff in here.”

“What?”

“That the world revolves around you. They’ll come up with a diagnosis for that and keep you here forever. Drug you ‘til you forget your own name, let alone your status.” Steve tells him with humor, wiping the tears off his face.

Billy nods in understanding, sits back down with an interested smirk, “This ain’t your first time here, is it?”

“Is it yours?”

“Nah. I’ve done some shit on purpose, some on accident. Once it wasn’t even me. But s’never done anything to help so far.”

Steve puffs out a sigh, “Don’t I know it.. I’ve been in and outta this place since I was like, ten. Clearly nothing’s changed.”

“Why? What’s your dirty little secret, Harrington?”

“I cut myself, dumbass.” He deadpans, looking at Billy with a bluntness in his expression that reads more concerning, more like indifference to what he just said than matter-of-fact.

“No shit. But that ain’t the secret.” Billy probes further, can tell he’s getting under that mask Steve wears, “Why do you do it?”

“Legally, I can't tell you. And I don’t think I would anyways.”

“What about if I tell you all about me first? I got no reservations ‘cept the one that got me a bed here.”

“It’s not a hotel, Hargrove.”

“Eh, might as well be. Feels like the damn hotel California.”

“Is that why?”

“Huh? Oh no, I been pullin’ stunts like this long before we left Cali.”

“Like what?”

“Like downing two full bottles of my mother’s meds after she left. Not at the same time obviously, or I wouldn’t be here. Mostly ‘cause my dad didn’t even wanna take me to the hospital either time.” Billy doesn’t look at Steve while he elaborates. Not because he cares, he’s an open book, if a random old woman at the grocery store asked about his last attempt, he’d tell her.

But. He doesn’t like watching people’s faces. Seeing sympathy and concern there. It makes him feel all stupid and guilty. It’s usually not like that with other kids like him, but Steve’s different. He’s got a big heart. Even if there’s no room for himself.

And Billy hurt Steve before. He doesn’t want to see someone he caused pain caring so much about him. He already cracked when Max came to see him. This could be what splits him open, spills out all the things he’s covered up.

So he keeps going, “And like runnin’ out in front of traffic with my friends. They thought we were just playin’ chicken ‘til I stopped dead in front of a station wagon. Metal rims’d done me in for sure if one ‘a the older boys hadn’t pulled me outta the way. Damn near ripped my shirt in half how fast he grabbed me.”

“I’m guessing your parents are the reason why then?”

“Yessir.” Billy deflects, not good at getting deeper into it, “You wanna tell me yours then?”

“I started cutting because Tommy Hagan told me about it. He thought it was freaky, but when he ran his mouth about how they found the neighbor kid in his room, drained of all his blood from his wrists, I wanted to try it. I’ve tried liquor and drugs and all kinds ‘a shit I shouldn’t, but nothin’ stuck like cutting.” Steve pauses for a long time, his eyes going blank, staring right past Billy, “When my mom found out she.. she.. Forget it.”

“Hey, you seen my skeletons. Can’t I see yours?”

“No. I don’t wanna fucking talk about it anymore.” Steve answers, despite his assuredness, his tone wobbling with some unidentifiable emotion.

Talk about mood swings. Billy doesn’t get how nobody would’ve noticed something was up before Steve started carving into himself. Really, he knows someone would have seen it and just ignored it.

It only gets worse though, the reservedness turning to sadness and frustration. None of the words are coming out, but he can tell Steve’s thinking of the stories, reliving all that got him to the here and now. Billy can also tell there’s nothing he can do no to stop him from doomsdaying.

So when Steve is inevitably in the thralls of a panic attack, he tries to hug him tight, to try to get it to stop maybe, that always worked for him at least, but Steve swats him away. Judging from the way he winces, it’s not easy for him to do either, with those thick ass bandages constricting his wrists, but the tears and the pain on his face are buried behind his resolution.

He’s hiding something from Billy.

In hindsight, talking to a new patient about past attempts probably wasn’t his brightest idea anyways, so he switches the subject while Steve works on coming down from his panic attack. He brings up Max and her little nerds, trying to bridge the healthier connections between him and Steve that they’d both been ignoring since the fight. He mentions basketball too, another something they have in common other than trying to kill themselves.

It doesn’t really work, though Steve does stop shaking as bad, just curling up in his little chair and sniffling, pretending not to listen while Billy rambles on and on. But he doesn’t talk. It’s probably better for him not to anyway. Billy himself has been known to say some dumb shit when he’s in distress.

Ultimately, even once the conversation runs out, he stays with Steve until dark. He can tell from the way his gaze sticks to the floor that Steve recovered from his fit a while ago, but he’s embarrassed by having a breakdown in front of him, as if he isn’t in here for the same reason. It helps that he gets it though, and they sit in a comfortable, albeit very prolonged, silence.

Long after Steve gets xanned up and knocked out though, while Billy is still free to wander until the midnight curfew as a low risk patient, he decides to stick with him in his room. Billy’ll never admit it, but he gets nightmares, and he doesn’t want to face that just yet, so with a new friend as an excuse, he’s up half the night watching Steve sleep.

He remembers what happened earlier, how focused Steve was on keeping him away from him, despite his panic, and decides, with a glance at how deeply Steve is sleeping, his greasy hair all strewn about on stiff pillows, that he’s going to figure out what it was.

He snoops around in his bedside drawers, in the bathroom, in the locker in the corner. It’s there he notices the knitted jacket Steve was wearing before, hanging heavy to one side, like there’s something in its pocket. He touches it and feels the outline of something small, so he pulls it out.

He regrets checking though, because it’s a knife. Judging from the old looking engravings on its handle, and the coppery stains within the grooves, it’s specifically the very same one that got Steve hospitalized.

He shoves it in his own back pocket and keeps looking, with a quick glance at Steve, finding a note tucked where the knife had been. Written in perfect scrawl on bond paper that’s been folded a dozen times and stained with tears,

“Do it right next time, why don’t you? Your mother is too soft on you. I’m not paying for this again.

- J.Harrington.”

Billy doesn’t know what to do but throw the note in the trash. Not really in shock, but definitely more than a little fucked up from reading that, he sits on the end of Steve’s bed. His own dad, who'd more than once been the one putting him in the hospital, had never even said anything like that to him.

He didn’t get to talk to Steve much today, but they’ve got as long as Billy’s stuck in here together to fix that. Longer if he just pulls something in front of a nurse. And he wants to, really really wants to.

Because he knows he just met the real Steve, can recognize another broken boy when he sees one, and he knows too, that he never wants to meet a pretty boy like this again.

And if that’s his declaration to get clean, then so fucking be it.

But. He never promised not to hurt anyone. Ultimately he’d still need that outlet.

He keeps the knife. To make sure his pretty boy doesn’t get hurt again.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

The music monopolists

Writing in Wired, Institute for Local Self Reliance researcher and anti-monopolist Ron Knox gives a thorough, important account of how music industry monoplization resulted declining revenue for artists, even as the industry itself has reaped greater profits.

https://www.wired.com/story/opinion-big-music-needs-to-be-broken-up-to-save-the-industry/

Importantly, Knox describes how concentration has come to every link in music’s supply chain, from radio to recording, streaming to live performance. The monopolists who dominate these sectors fight fiercely between each other, but no matter who wins, artists lose.

Let’s go segment by segment. Two thirds of all North American music comes from three labels. The labels grew through anticompetitive mergers: giant companies, awash in investor cash, bought out mid-sized, successful labels, turning them into subdivisions of the Big Three.

The more concentrated the labels got, the worse they were for everyone. They spent the nineties and naughties price-gouging record companies, pocketing hundreds of millions from an illegal price-fixing conspiracy. The fines they paid were smaller than the profits they reaped.

But at least they distributed music. Today, the struggling physical record store industry — a network of passionate music sellers who serve the most intense music fans — find themselves getting “record shipments” that turn out to be boxes of random stuff like cough syrup (!).

That happened when the Big Three all piled their distribution into a single company, the monopolist Direct Shot Distributing. As Direct Shot started to fail, its operations descended into chaos, and record stores started to receive boxes of random consumer packaged goods.

It was bad news for the non-monopolized, music-first record stores, but it barely registered for the Big Three labels — today, they buy an average of two new acts every day.

The labels don’t make money from selling records, of course. They get their money from streaming.

Streaming is also massively concentrated, gathered into the hands of just a few companies: Spotify, Apple, Youtube, Amazon — with the notable exception of Spotify, the industry is dominated by companies that also monopolize other sectors.

Monopolies are good to these companies. Spotify’s market-cap doubled during the pandemic — the market values its 150m subs (twice as many as subscribe with Apple) at $50b. The major labels get $1m/hour from streaming. 99% of their artists see $25/year in streaming royalties.

Spotify may be the biggest streaming service, but it’s not the lowest-paying. Youtube — a Google division, whose unsuccessful attempt to launch an in-house video service convinced it that it had to buy someone else’s success — drives the worst bargain.

Spotify uses its industry dominance to extract heavy fees from the labels — creaming 30% of the total revenue generated by a typical track. Big Three monopolists with fat margins can absorb this. Indies? Not so much.

Spotify’s market cap growth is in part due to the new ways it’s come up with to shake down the labels — a variety of tactics that all boil down to one thing: payola. Spotify will sell labels pop-up ads, placement in “radio” algorithms, and access to “Discovery mode.”

Like all forms of payola, Spotify’s rate-card is a way for monopolists to edge out indies, buying their way into your ear-holes. I’m sure that the Big Three would rather keep the bribes they pay to Spotiify, but the consolation prize is pretty sweet.

If the Big Three are the only ones who can afford to buy access to Spotify’s audience, then creators are driven to sign with them, and have less bargaining leverage when they negotiate their deals.

Spotify, meanwhile, can consolidate its gains by driving up those fees, pitting labels against each other in a bidding war for access to listeners. This effectively drives down the royalty rate Spotify pays, because every new track will have to buy in to get any reach.

Spotify talks a good game about how it uses big data and machine learning to pick the songs you hear, but increasingly, the algorithm is getting far less compute-intensive, a simple sort-by-highest-bidder system you could operate from a laptop running Windows 3.1 and Excel.

In theory, streaming losses can be made up with touring. Acts who attain digital popularity can charge access at the door to clubs and other venues. The only problem is that live performance is also a monopoly business.

The 800lb gorilla there is Livenation, a division of the ticket monopolist and notorious arm-breakers Ticketmaster — spun out of Clear Channel, the monopolist that we now know as Iheartradio.

Livenation parlayed its access to the capital markets to buy out $1b worth of venues and promoters, before being acquired by Clear Channel for $4.4b in 2005. Today, it’s a division of Liberty Media, consolidated with Ticketmaster, Pandora, and Siriusxm.

What goes around, comes around: Liberty’s private equity owners are in the process of buying up Iheartradio, re-merging all of Clear Channel’s spinouts into one giga-monopolist.

The conglomerate already coerces artists to book exclusively in its clubs and using its ticketing, starving independent venues. Add 850 terrestrial radio stations to the mix and it will choke off all the oxygen that independent venues, promoters and ticketers rely on.

Liberty didn’t buy all these companies because it’s passionate about music and wanted to ensure artists got a fair shake. By rolling up the entire live music/radio supply-chain, it bought the power to extract vast sums from musicians, and to keep rivals out of the market.

Well, not all competitors. Lollapalooza co-founder Marc Geiger raised tens of millions for “Savelive,” a new would-be monopolist that offered to “rescue” live music venues in exchange for a 51% stake in them.

Savelive illustrates an important point about the nature of monopolies: they beget more monopolies. Consolidation in the labels meant that only the largest streaming companies could negotiate a sustainable rate.

But consolidation in radio drives consolidation in labels — and many of the indie radio stations that survived the first wave of consolidation were picked up cheap by Iheartradio once monopolistic streamers ate their lunch.

This is a pattern across the whole entertainment industry: bookstore mergers and big box retailers drove consolidation in publishing; that was accelerated by consolidation in online ebook and physical book retail.

It’s not limited to the entertainment sector either. As David Dayen describes in his essential book MONOPOLIZED, hospitals didn’t start consolidating until the pharma industry underwent a wave of brutal mergers and started gouging for drugs.

https://pluralistic.net/2021/01/29/fractal-bullshit/#dayenu

Hospital consolidation led to gouging insurers, leading to a wave of insurance consolidation. Today, nearly every part of the health industry is monopolized, from pharmacy benefit managers to medical labs.

The only parts of the supply chain that doesn’t monopolize — that can’t monopolize — are the ends of the chain: the people who work in the system, and the people who use it.

Monopoly punishes doctors and nurses and other health workers — and it punishes patients.

It punishes writers and publishing workers, and it punishes readers.

It punishes musicians and independent venue owners, and it punishes listeners.

When every part of the supply chain gets so monopolized that it can’t easily be squeezed by any other part of the supply chain, these giants turn on us — the workers and users of the system. We, the atomized and fragmented, cannot resist the squeeze.

But as Knox writes, the tide is turning. After 40 years of waving through anticompetitive mergers in the name of “efficiency,” the DoJ and FTC are under new management, with two-fisted trustbusters like Lina M Khan at the helm.

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2021/08/party-its-1979-og-antitrust-back-baby

This new cohort of monopoly fighters reject the “consumer welfare” theory of antitrust (the idea that monopolies drive prices down and are therefore good for society), going to war against the hegemonic orthodoxy that began with Ronald Reagan.

https://doctorow.medium.com/epic-v-apple-d3e59893b4f3

The new antitrust is surging, with bills in the House and Senate, executive orders from the White House, regulatory proceedings at the DoJ and FTC, and an interagency-cabinet coordination committee that ties it all together.

This new antitrust promises workers and users of monopolized industries a better alternative than rooting for one giant to beat another in hopes that they will drop a few crumbs for the rest of us to enjoy.

Creative workers don’t have to choose between Big Tech and Big Content based on their assessment of which monopolist will abuse them the least. Instead, we can root for antimonopoly, for giant-slaying, and the right to self-determination.

The most important immediate step towards that future is blocking new anticompetitive mergers, like Sony’s bid for AWAL, or Liberty Media’s use of a $500m SPAC to go on a vertical monopoly shopping spree.

The agencies have the power to stop these. They should. When you find yourself in a hole, stop digging.

But ending anticompetitive mergers won’t get us out of that hole: most industries (from beer to cheerleader uniforms to wresting to eyeglasses) are already monopolized.

The new trustbusters — and the ILSR — want to use antitrust law to break up these conglomerates. I think that’s right: vertical monopolies will always engage in self-dealing to the detriment of independents, workers and customers. Break. Them. Up.

But breaking up is hard to do. When the DoJ tried to break up IBM, the company’s lawyers outspent the entire DoJ antitrust division, every single year, for twelve consecutive years, and in the end, it escaped breakup.

That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try. IBM escaped justice because Reagan was elected and neutered antitrust. And even though it remained intact, it was never the same — for one thing, it decided that it was too risky to make its own PC OS.

IBM knew that antitrust enforcers were very suspicious of tying software to hardware — so it tapped a couple of hacker kids, Bill Gates and Paul Allen, to sell it DOS, from their new company “Micro-Soft.”

Unfortunately for all of us, antitrust enforcement only declined after that, so IBM was able to return to its monopolistic ways, and Microsoft escaped from antitrust scrutiny after a mere seven years in regulatory hell.

Antitrust enforcement can sap monopolists of the will to power, as they become increasingly concerned that their actions will attract aggressive legal reprisals.

Think of how Apple “lost” the Epic lawsuit but still “voluntarily” rescinded its heretofore hard rule against apps providing links to web-pages where you can use third-party payment processors to make purchases.

As monopolists lose their nerve, space opens up for all kinds of pro-worker, pro-user interventions, far beyond those afforded by traditional antitrust.

Next year, Beacon Press will publish THE SHAKEDOWN, a book I co-wrote with Rebecca Giblin about the monopolistic corruption of creative labor markets and how creative workers, regulators and fans can resist it.

The Shakedown catalogs the ways that monopolization of investment, distribution and sale of creative works allows entertainment companies, Big Tech, and major retailers to shift an ever-larger share of the creative industry’s revenues from workers to themselves.

More importantly, we identify tools beyond breakups that we can use to de-monopolize the industry — things we can do right now, without having to wait for the conclusion of an antitrust suit that might run for decades.

Take reversion rights: many copyright systems allow creators to take back their rights after a set period (35 years in the US). This lets artists who signed bad deals — before they were proven successes — to resell their catalog or extract reparations by threatening to.

But reversion is really hard to do, and 35 years is way too long. Only an handful of creators — even those with valuable catalogs that could be renewed through reversion — ever manage it.

https://pluralistic.net/2021/07/06/backsies/#take-backs

Congress (and other legislatures around the world, including Canada, where this is likely to come up in the new Parliament) could fix reversion: make it easier to do, and make it available after a shorter period — say, 14 years.

And what about those bad contracts? The “freedom to contract” has always been subject to limits, where some clauses are deemed unenforceable “as against public policy” or because they are “unconscionable.”

With the entertainment sector consolidated into just a couple of states, state legislatures could act to void the most abusive clauses — for example, clauses that allow labels to claw back royalties indefinitely to recoup (often inflated or fictitious) “expenses.”

Our book explores dozens of these kinds of ideas, from co-operatives to trade unions; better accounting practices and direct arts subsidies; radical interoperability and collective licensing; minimum wages for creative labor and collective bargaining.

None of these are replacement for reducing the size and power of conglomerates throughout the supply chain, but all of them are interventions we can make as the power and nerve of conglomerates declines, changes that will hasten that decline and open more space for breakups.

And all of them are applicable, to a greater or lesser extent, to helping workers and users of all the other consolidated industries, from health care to cheerleading.

For example, expanding California’s ban on noncompete clauses would help fast-food workers nationwide — because today, fast food employers are the most aggressive abusers of noncompetes.

That means that a fried chicken cashier earning the tipped minimum wage can’t quit to work at a burger joint across the street for a $0.25/hour raise. Creative workers aren’t the only ones suffering from monopolization — we’re not even the worst off.

But by definition, creative workers have a platform. We reach people. We have the potential to help form the kind of unstoppable coalition that we’ll need to reverse the generations of oligarchic, post-Reagan consolidation.

You may have heard about how Danish McDonald’s workers earn $22/hour and get six weeks’ paid vacation and sick leave. That didn’t come about because McDonald’s was required by law to pay it.

It was worker solidarity that did it. As Matt Bruenig writes, McDonald’s initially refused to sign the voluntary “hotel and restaurant” collective agreement. So its workers went on strike.

https://mattbruenig.com/2021/09/20/when-mcdonalds-came-to-denmark/

Now, if McD’s workers had struck alone, they’d probably have lost. But Danish law allows for sympathy strikes — that is, it allows workers in other parts of the supply chain to take industrial action to support their sisters and brothers who are striking.

When the McD’s workers walked out in 1989, sixteen other sectoral unions joined them. They didn’t just help picket at leaflet in front of McD’s restaurants!

Dockworkers wouldn’t unload McD’s shipments. Printers wouldn’t print their cups and placemats.

Builders downed tools on McDonald’s construction projects. Typesetters wouldn’t set the McD’s ads in the daily papers. Truckers wouldn’t deliver to McD’s restaurants. Food industry workers wouldn’t produce the drink syrups, fries and other inputs to the McDonald’s kitchens.

McD’s caved.

Now, as Bruenig points out, these kinds of sympathy strikes are illegal in the US, but it’s a mistake to think that workers don’t have power because sympathy strikes are illegal — rather, sympathy strikes are illegal because workers don’t have power.

Workers across all sectors face the same kinds of monopolistic exploitation. Workers across all sectors have a common enemy (literally, thanks to “common ownership” where companies like Vanguard and Berkshire Hathaway hold significant stakes in almost every major company).

With a shared cause, shared tactics, solidarity and a renewed sense that we can do more than root for the giant we think will mistreat us the least, creative workers and their sisters and brothers in every sector can reverse generations of losses.

That’s why the new antitrust matters — because it is an assault on the consolidation that gives all industries the power to shift money and other forms of value from workers and users to a small elite of investors.

[cipheress-to-k-pop]

En Tennyson Anything

Pairing: Pre-Established; Ben Tennyson x Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2.5k words

Summary: Ever wonder how Ben Tennyson’s kid got it’s name?

A/N: Did anyone ask for it? No. Should this have remained in my head? Yes. Should I have not wasted my time when I’m supposed to be studying for my mock chemistry Final? Probably. Did I do it anyway? Absolutely. Is anyone’s opinion going to change my mind? Absolutely NOT.

“No! Forget about it! I refuse to name our child En Anything!” You said firmly, walking away from your husband to the living room. Just like you knew he would but wished he wouldn’t, he followed you, all while whining pitifully.

“Babe, please! Ren or Jen Tennyson? How adorable is that?”

“Look, you already named our dog Sphen Tennyson, that’s all you get!”

“Are you comparing our child to a dog right now?”

You snorted and rolled your eyes, pointing to the TV remote. It was second nature for him to grab the remote for you and you proceeded to ignore him in favour of your favourite series.

“Babe, come on, Kevin got to name his son Devlin!”

“That’s only cuz Gwen bet that it was going to be a girl! I on the other hand am refusing to name our child, boy or girl, En Tennyson!”

“It’s a family tradition babe!”

“No way! That name brings enough trouble as it is!”

“And yet you took it!”

“Because if I hadn’t your mother would’ve killed me. But I asked her and she said it was totally my decision to name our child whatever. And I choose anything other than En Anything.”

He threw himself on the couch with a huff, leaning against your belly and placing a hand on it, “Your mom is mean.”

You flicked his ear, “Don’t say that to our child!”

He chuckled, pressing a few kisses to your bump, “You want to be named Ren or Jen, right? Kick if you agree.”

You waited a couple of seconds in silence and when you felt nothing you couldn’t help but laugh at the betrayed look on Ben’s face. Usually whenever Ben talked to the baby, it was all too happy to kick around in response.

But it seemed like even the baby hated the name.

“Traitor.”

***

“I really wish I didn’t have to go.” Ben murmured, pulling you into his arms. You sighed, relishing in his warmth and leaning against his frame. A hand came to cradle your head as he tilted your face towards his and captured your lips in a kiss.

“It’s okay, the universe needs you.”

“Yeah, but you need me more than them.” He mumbled, kissing you again and you chuckled, “I’m sure I can survive a few days.”

“But you’re near your due date.”

You knew he was anxious to leave you alone so close to your due date. The grip he had on your hands was an indication to just how hard this was for him. He was worried about leaving the two of you home alone.

“It’s going to be okay, love. Besides, it’s not like I’m alone, I have your parents and Grandpa Max to look after me.”

“And my brother promised to check in on her a couple of times too.” Gwen spoke up from behind you and you nodded.

“Call me when you’re done.” You said, wrapping your arms around his neck. He peppered kisses along your shoulder as a goodbye.

“Call me if anything happens, okay?” He asked and you nodded, smiling when he bent down to say goodbye to your child.

“Don’t trouble your mom too much, okay? And don’t be born until I get back. Okay?” He asked and just like you knew it would, the baby kicked hearing Ben’s voice and the two of you laughed.

“We’ll be just fine.” You reassured, kissing him one final time before sending him off with a smile, “Be safe, I love you.”

***

It wasn’t long after Ben left when it started to snow heavily. The roads were quickly covered with sleet and snow decorated the window. So, you curled up with a warm hot chocolate, bundled up in Ben’s jacket by the window and had the radio playing.

Retro, but it was just what you needed to stop worrying about Ben.

You were nearly done with your cup when you heard the doorbell ring and wondered if you absolutely had to get up. Your feet were already kind of sore and you didn’t feel like moving. The doorbell rang again and you groaned, shuffling off the bed and grumbled all the way to the doorway.

When you opened it, Gwen’s brother was standing there with a small smile and a box of donuts.

“Hey, I got you those donuts you like.”

You have him a smile, inviting him inside, “Thank you, Ken. You really didn’t have to.”

“I promised Gwen and Ben that I would look after you.”

“Well, it looks like you’re stuck here,” You said, looking out the window and noticing how the police where shutting them down for everyone’s safety, “The roads are closed.”

He looked at the scene over your shoulder and released a breath, “I’m kind of relieved. I just parallel parked the car between 2 giant vans and I really didn’t want to have to bring it out of there.”

You giggled, “Lucky you then.”

The two of you didn’t waste any time, opening the box of donuts and digging in.

“So, any names for the newest Tennyson?” Ken asked, finishing his Jelly-filled one as you bit into the one with chocolate sprinkles.

“Well, Ben wants to name it either Ren or Jen but I hate the idea.”

Ken laughed, “What about you?”

“Well, I wanted to name it Max if he was boy,” You started, a hand unconsciously coming to rub your belly when you felt your baby move slightly. Almost as if he knew you were talking about it, “But Grandpa Max thinks that we shouldn’t.”

“Why not? I mean, I’d be pretty honoured if someone wanted to name their child after me.”

“Right? But Max thinks that his name would bring about bad luck. As if the last name isn’t bad luck enough.” You sighed and grabbed the last donut just as Ken was reaching for it. He raised a judgmental brow and you scoffed.

“I’m pregnant, what’s your excuse?”

***

Ken stayed the rest of the night, sleeping in one of the guest rooms and when the two of you woke up, you realized that it had snowed the whole night. The roads were covered in snow that was feet deep and you watched from the top of Tennyson Tower as a team of pyronites tried to clear them away.

It seemed in vain however, because it looked like the drainage system was frozen over and it would be difficult to get all the snow out without causing a flood.

You found yourself missing your husband more than you expected. With the snow and the cold, you wanted someone to cuddle up to. Someone to hold.

The baby had definitely noticed Ben’s absence. You couldn’t really tell how but something in your soul told you that it missed its father. Just as you did.

But the baby didn’t know that Ben was off world for a mission and light years away from the two of you. The baby had no idea that kicking and being fussy wouldn’t get him here faster even though it showed you just how uncomfortable it was.

Maybe that’s why it decided to come out and check for itself.

You weren’t sure what you felt at first. It was just a little discomfort for you but the spell quickly passed without much notice.

The second contraction made sure to let you know that it was there.

You held onto Ken’s arm in surprise and he took his eyes off the screen to look at you. You were staring blankly at the screen and he shifted in his seat to grab your hand.

“Everything okay?”

“I think I just had a contraction.” You whispered, feeling slightly panicked. A lot of emotions were rushing through your head; how you didn’t want to do this without Ben, how you didn’t want to do this, how you couldn’t do this with the roads blocked, and wondering whether this was actually labour.

“What? Oh, shit, okay, just relax. Has your water broken?” Ken was surprisingly calm even though you just told him you might be having your baby. He merely patted your hand reassuringly and grabbed his phone.

“I—I don’t think so.”

“Okay then we got some time, just relax.”

You knew all this. You went to the classes. You read the books. But as soon as you felt the first contraction, your mind went blank. All you did was nod as Ken dialled in your mother-in-law’s number and told her what was going on.

“How are we gonna get to the hospital?” You whispered, feeling panic rise and Ken brought you in for a comforting hug, “Don’t worry about it, we got some time. I’ll call Grandpa Max and ask him if he can dispatch a couple of hover cars or at least get some Heatblast’s to clear the road. Everything will be just fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yep, worst comes to worst, we’ll have to get a doctor up here. It’ll be okay. Just watch some TV for now.”

“How do you know so much about this? You seem oddly calm.”

Ken blushed, “I read up on it a lot when Gwen was pregnant to make sure that if I was with her when it happened then I wouldn’t be floundering.”

You gave him a smile, “That’s sweet.”

***

“Okay, just breathe. Breathe. You’re doing great!” Ken whispered, letting you grip his hands as he talked you through another contraction. After he called up Grandpa Max, it didn’t take long before they managed to bring you to the hospital. Your water broke soon after that and the contractions got more painful.

“Where’s Ben!” You cried out, clenching your teeth. Ken began wiping your tears and sweat away.

“We haven’t been able to reach him yet, he’s still in battle. He’ll get the message soon enough and come home, (Y/N), don’t worry about it.”

“I can’t have this baby without him, Ken. I can’t. Can you tell the doctors to keep it in?” You sobbed and he chuckled lightly, pecking your temple, “We can’t keep it in, honey, but Aunt Sandra and Uncle Carl are on their way. So is Grandpa Max.”

“Why is this taking so long!!” You whimpered. Ken was carefully wiping away all your tears, “I thought the miracle of birth was supposed to be beautiful! Why is it so slow and so painful!”

He laughed and you sent him a glare but he knew it was harmless, “Well that’s the human race for you.”

“What a bunch of bastards.”

***

“I’m here! I’m here!” Ben shouted, bolting through the hallways, running into multiple people until he finally made it outside your delivery room. He was running too fast and ended up crashing into his father’s arms, panting heavily.

“Can I go in?” He asked, unsure if he was allowed and hesitated even when his parents nodded. His son or daughter was being born. Now. The love of his life was giving birth in the other room. All of it felt too real. Too domestic. Too normal.

He’d been through so much till now, never getting anything in return. He’d saved planets and risked his life over and over again, always coming near death and he never asked for anything in return.

Now it finally felt like he was getting something back.

His heart honestly couldn’t handle it.

So, he hesitated, he was scared he’d get robbed of something again. That he’d once again have to give up something in his life.

Kevin placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, squeezing it tightly and he nodded before giving him a slight nudge towards the door. When Ben stepped in, he immediately rushed to your side, pressing a kiss to your sweaty forehead.

“I’m here. I’m here. I love you. I’m here.” You spared him a smile and he brought a hand up to wipe away some tears. You were breathing hard, a hand wrapped around his arm and the other was still clasped between both of Ken’s.

It was only then Ben noticed that his cousin was also in the room.

“Hey, man.”

“Sup.”

“WHY DON’T I LAY DOWN SOME TEA AND CRACKERS SO YOU CAN CATCH UP WHILE I TRY AND GIVE BIRTH!”

Even the doctor couldn’t help but laugh as your nails dug into their skin and you cried out, back hitting the bed in relief as your baby was born. An innocent cry filled the room and you couldn’t help the tears of joy that began streaming down your cheeks.

That was your baby.

“Congratulations Mr. and Mrs. Tennyson, it’s a boy.”

Ben let out a teary laugh, kissing you briefly and squeezing your hand reassuringly as you leaned against him, exhausted. He was finally here; his baby boy was finally here.

The doctors cleaned him up a little before handing the baby to you, initiating skin-to-skin. You felt fresh tears looking at his precious face. That was your baby.

Ben’s hand came to support your son, his other arm wrapping around your figure as he brought you into a hug. A family hug.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

***

“Do we have a name yet?” Gwen asked from beside you, looking over the newest addition to the family. Your son was comfortable, even though people kept passing him around like a hot potato. It’s what happens when there are so many people in your family.

“No, not yet.” Ben told and you were almost impressed. A part of you was completely expecting him to hijack the name and outright tell everyone that you were naming your son Ren Tennyson.

“Actually,” You spoke up, bringing everyone’s attention to you just as Sandra handed her grandson back to you. You fondly looked at your baby boy before looking up at your husband with a shy smile, “I was thinking Kenny.”

A bright smile grew on his face, “Really? I thought you said you didn’t want an En Tennyson.”

“I didn’t, but I want our baby to be named after someone special,” You spoke, turning your head to meet the gaze of Ken, who had been standing behind everyone for the time being. You sent him a meaningful look, “I couldn’t have done it without you today. Thank you, for everything.”

He blushed, “I didn’t really.”

You didn’t bother arguing with him, knowing it was just his humility that held him back from accepting your gratitude. Instead, you turned back to the baby in your arms, leaning your head against Ben’s shoulder, “Your name is Kenny Tennyson, baby.”

The room erupted into cheers and you grinned, looking up to see your family around you.

Perhaps a family name wasn’t a bad idea.

It meant your child would be named after the people you love.

Forever Taglist: @simonsbluee​

[shoutoismybaby]

A Pink Promise (BakuXReader)

Summary: You had a tradition with bakugou. A tradition where every time you had to leave each other you would wrap your pinky’s together in a promise that you would see the other again. But one night after an argument you storm out of the apartment without your typical goodbye, and bakugou gets a call that makes him question if he will ever see you alive again

WARNING: Angst, but it ends in fluff. Cursing, injury, car accident, fighting, and crying

Hi. I’m just gonna leave this here😘

***

“I should probably head home,” You shifted from one foot to another, “my dad will get worried if I’m late…”

“Alright, bye loser.” You giggled at Bakugous response and held out your hand, pinky extended.

“So, you’ll pick me up at two?” You asked, pausing at the confused look on his face. “What?”

“What are you doing?” Bakugou asked, he was staring at your hand. You laughed once more and ignored his glare,

“Oh, it's for a pinky promise.” You explained,

“You need me to pinky promise that I’ll take you on a date tomorrow?” His brows only became more furrowed, Katsuki knew you were a little weird. The simplest things seemed to make you smile, but that's what he loved about you. He wondered if you seriously wanted him to pinky promise you that he would take you out, right after he just asked you to be his girlfriend. Yeah, he was an asshole. But not to that extent.

“No, um. It’s a promise that you’ll see me again.” You blushed, it was a habit you had picked up from your parents. They always used a pinky promise in place of a goodbye kiss. You were about to let your hand drop when looped his pinky with yours.

“Okay, I’ll be at your house at two. You better be ready.” He gave your finger a tight squeeze before letting it go. He then turned around and began walking away from you.

“I won't!” You promised, watching him walk away for a couple of seconds before you turned to head home.

From that day on, each time you went to say goodbye, a pinky promise accompanied it. Even Bakugou caught onto the habit quickly, despite the fact that his friends would often tease him for it. Yeah, he was whipped for you. He knew it. Your peers knew it. Even your uncle's dog knew it. But all that mattered to him was that you were happy. And you were for a while.

It was when you had graduated for UA and moved into an apartment together that problems started to arise. Katsuki got overly jealous of every person you got close to, and you were always exhausted after work. Hero's work was stressful on both of you, only contributing to the short temper your boyfriend seemed to have. Fights would happen over the smallest of things, such as chores not being done, or something being left out where it didn't belong.

Of course, you couldn't say that you were innocent, you did start a fair amount of fights. Eventually, though, it hit a point that you could barely handle it anymore. Even when you tried to calm him down, to just talk through things, it would always end in screams and slammed doors.

And soon enough, you hit your limit.

“God, don’t you ever shut up!?” You screamed, just having gotten home from work. Why were you already fighting with him? You hadn't even gotten the chance to take off your shoes. His face only seemed to get more contorted, matching the amount of anger he felt. Why was he always directing it at you? “I just got home from work, cant you give me a fucking break!”

“Maybe you’d get home earlier if you were any good at what you do!” He argued, of course, he would go on the offense.

“What’s that supposed to mean!?” You prayed that he would back down.

“I'm just saying that if you weren't such a shitty hero, maybe you would get home at a decent time and actually-” That was your breaking point.

“Just because you’ll never be good enough to be the number 1 hero, doesn't mean you can take it out on me!” You shut him up pretty fast. His face paled and eyes widened, but you could barely notice past the high you were on. “I’m sick and tired of coming home to someone who only wants to fight with me! Have you ever thought that maybe I take extra shifts to avoid seeing you?”

You were crying now, but you couldn't bring yourself to care. You were so mad. How could he tell you that he loved you and then tell you something like that?

Katsuki seemed frozen, you couldn't see the guilt flood his body. You couldn't hear the thoughts whirring in his head. You couldn't feel his regret. You could only feel anger.

You could only feel your heart ripping in two, the tears scratching their way to your eyes. Everything hurt. You felt like a gust of wind could cause your body to fall apart. Yet, at the same time, you felt numb. Maybe that was the anger. The desperation. The hurt. Maybe that was what was protecting your fragile self.

You had never felt so broken and vulnerable before.

“I hate you Bakugou!” He was supposed to be the one to protect you, love you, care for you. So why was he the one tearing you apart?

If it hadn't already, his heart stopped. You hadn't called him by his last name since you got together.

“(Y/n)-” His hand reached out to you. All he wanted to do right then was apologize to you, and hold you close until you forgave him. But you couldn't do that. Not again. Not then,

“Don't touch me!” Your voice sounded so broken as you held one of your wrists in your other hand. “Don't-” A shuddering breath made its way through your throat. You reached for your coat and began to pull it on.

“(Y/n), please don't. I'm sorry-”

“I don't want to see you again,” You closed your eyes tight and sighed, turning to the door. He didn't say anything else, so you left.

***

It was a couple of seconds before his arm returned to his side, and a couple of minutes more before he stopped standing there. Choosing to sit instead. He wasn’t sure why. Why he didn’t just move to the couch. Why some part of him was convinced that you would just walk back in, and let him apologize. Let him fix everything.

But he knew you wouldn't. Even more, he knew he didn’t deserve it.

It was an hour before he finally moved, and it was only to get to his ringing phone. All he could do at that moment was wish it was you.

Wish it was about you.

Oh, how he came to wish he could take back that wish.

“(y/n), I'm sorry-”

“Hello?” It wasn't your voice on the phone, Bakugou considered hanging up, but had a feeling that he shouldn't.

“Who is this?” He asked gruffly, he just wanted you back in his arms. He didn't care about anything else.

“My name is Haru, I work for the Musutafu hospital. Your number is on the emergency contact list of (Y/n) (L/n). Could you come down to the hospital? It's urgent.”

Bakugou didn't think that his heart would break anymore that night. But here he was, tearing up on the phone. Begging and screaming at the poor nurse to tell him what was going on, knowing full well she couldn't. Stupid patient confidentiality.

He had never pulled on his shoes and coat faster, not taking the time to realise his shoes did not match. He knew it was illegal to use his quirk at the moment, but he didn’t care. He launched himself into the air and towards the hospital, only slowing down in order to land painfully in front of the doors. But he didn't care about how he felt. Nor did he care about the immediate attention that was placed on him from everyone around.

“Is that Ground Zero?”

“I’ve never seen him without his hero suit on before”

“Look at him. He looks like a mess.”

“Is he okay?”

The hospital was busy when he walked inside, covered in sweat from both the bodily exertion and anxiety. His heart was racing and the only thing keeping him from fainting was the fact that he needed to see you. How had you already ended up in the hospital? You had only just left his house-

But the clock on the wall corrected him, it had been a few hours. His stomach churned as he walked up to the receptionist's desk,

“Where’s (Y/n)?” He growled out, beginning to get restless. Now that some people knew who he was, the paparazzi was sure to show up. And that was the last thing either of you needed.

“Name, ID, Relationship to the patient?” The woman's calm demeanor was in direct contrast to the storm brewing in Bakugou.

“Bakugou Katsuki, I’m (Y/n) (L/n)’s boyfriend.” He said as he dug out his wallet, suddenly remembering something you had told him once when you had to visit him in the hospital after a villain encounter went sideways. “But we’ve lived together for over three years, we have a common law marriage.”

He knew that this was the only way he was going to be able to see you, but it wasn’t like he was lying. The receptionist squinted at him before taking his ID and looking it over.

“Alright, if you can state the name of the patient you are visiting for me again I can get you the guest pass and their room number.”

***

Your door slammed open, and you strained your eyes trying to see. The brace around your neck stops you from properly looking over. It didn’t take long to realise who it was when you heard the strangled whine. You recognized it as Katsuki right away. How could you not?

You had been with him for years, through the ups, the downs, and the very far downs that were the past year. You had held him tightly when those noises had escaped him in the past and you shielded him from the world when he was no longer able to keep up his facade.

You could only imagine how broken he looked now, you just wanted to hold him again and protect him from everything.

Until you remembered your last conversation, but then you just felt conflicted. You were mad at him. You were so angry.

But you were scared, so scared.

After all your years as a pro hero, and it was a truck that fucked you up the most. Each breath was painful, and maybe if your mind wasn’t so cloudy on pain meds, you would be able to remember how many ribs the doctor told you were broken, or which leg. Or if you were going to live. God, were you scared.

Footsteps brought you out of your thoughts, focusing your eyes to the man who stood in front of you. He looked like a boy now, so broken and collapsed in on himself.

“(Y/n),” sounded broken.

His brows were furrowed, mouth deep set in a scowl. But you knew better. You saw the tears stains on his cheeks. The redness of his eyes. His coat was inside out. You knew his face was one of worry. Fear.

You remembered the first time you saw him look like that. The first time he opened himself up to be so vulnerable to you. It was sometime after All Might had fallen, and the guilt had been eating him up. Not many other people noticed the way his thoughts were eating him up inside. But you did.

You saw the light in his eyes dim. The dark bags began to form and the way his posture fell. His confidence was falling no matter how much he screamed to keep up his image.

“K-kat-suk-i” You struggled to speak, your voice raspy. Like you hadn’t drank anything in years. Tears bubbled in his eyes, and, somehow that was more painful than when you first woke up. In the middle of the street, there had been a young woman kneeling over you, screaming into her phone. You couldn't hear her though, only the ringing in your ear.

You couldn't remember right before you got hit, it was fuzzy. Though the doctor told you it was normal. You wondered if maybe you were just running without looking. Or if tears clouded your vision. Or maybe, if it hadn't been your fault at all.

“Shit,” The love of your life began to scrub his face with his fists, much like he did the night you found him in the dorms kitchen. Crying over a late night snack as his fists clenched the edge of the counter, struggling to hold himself together.

No matter how much he tried to cover his face after you made your presence known, you could see the tears as they fell to the floor. You could hear his strangled whimpers. And even though you knew the possible consequences, you held his shaking body in your arms. You let him be vulnerable and didn’t say a word.

It was that day that you began to see Bakugou as he truly was. An Asshole? Yes, of course. But also a boy who cared way too much, who held himself to impossible standards, and who never really had a proper support system. You decided to be his support that day, and soon after you became his girlfriend too.

“They, they told me what happened to you,” you watched as little pops of frustration came out of his fists. “And I couldn't help but think that it’s my fault.”

“No,” you wanted to protest, but you instead had your breath hitched in your throat. The desire of water coming to be the very forefront of your thoughts as you reached out your hands, desperate for the hydration that would let you continue. Bakugou, of course noticed and his crimson eyes quickly spotte the glass of water on your nightstand. Once the cool glass brushed against your fingers, you brought it to your lips and drank as if you hadn’t seen a liquid in days.

“Just, listen okay? I… Ive been taking out my work stress on you, I’ve been rude and condesending and just fucking nit picky. You didn’t deserve any of that, especially what I said earlier. It was fucking uncalled for and so far from the truth.” The determination in his gaze was evident, it was the same gleam in his eyes he got whenever he set his mind to something. You adored that look from him.

“I know Katsuki, I know you don’t really think that.” You muttered, unsure of what to say. Were you just supposed to forgive his, what seemed to be, apology? You had no idea how you felt. Your head hurt along with the rest of your body and your throat was still parched despite downing your water seconds ago.

“It doesnt matter, you need to know what I do think. I think youre an incredibly strong woman. And a fucking resilient, relentless one at that. Can’t get you off my shit for two seconds. But I love that about you, you know? I know I’ve been a dick recently but I really do love you. I asmire you too, your work ethic. You never give up and thats what makes you one of the best heroes out there, fuck what the polls say.” He sniffled and quickly ran a closed fist under his nose. “You dont deserve what I’ve been putting you through lately… and I’m fucking sorry. You’re the most important person in my life and you deserve better than the asshole you’ve been getting.”

“You’ve always been an asshole.” You used your glass to hide the smirk on your face that only grew bigger as bakugou couldn't help himself from blowing up.

“I- are you kidding!? I’m trying to fucking apologize here and THATS what you choose to say!?” The pops of his quirk created a melody with the raspy laughs that left your mouth.

“Yeah,” your chuckling continued as bakugou's face softened. Eyes like cooling embers as they dusted across your figure. You tried to ignore that look, it always made your chest swell uncomfortably. Nothing could make you tear up more than the love bakugou had for you.

“Shitty woman,” he sat himself down in the chair besides your bed and took the now empty glass from your hands, “I just want you to know that when- if, you come home… that things are going to be better. I don't ever want to make you feel like you have to avoid me ever again. I want you to feel safe around me. And I swear that I’m going to put you above my hero work from now on-“

“No, Katsuki, I’m sorry I said that. I shouldn’t have said that you can't become the number one hero, it's not true.” You shook your head, the shame being too painful to look anywhere but your hands. Balled in fists on your lap before they were gently tugged into his own. You reluctantly met his eyes, admiring the fire that burned in them.

“This has nothing to fucking do with that, okay? I’m not giving up on being the number one, I’m just going to start working harder to be better for you at the same time. And anyone who thinks I can’t do it is a dumb bitch.”

“God can your ego get Any bigger?” A smile stretched across your face as you began laughing again when he simply shrugged. It hurt like a bitch, the sharp pain making your eyes water, but you just loved everything about the angry man in front of you. Even when he began yelling at you to stop laughing before you hurt yourself even more. It took awhile for you to calm down, and even longer to get bakugou to stop glaring at you for hurting yourself.

“I love you,” he said after a moment of silence, his rough thumbs rubbing circles into the meat of your hand.

“I know.” You sighed, basking in the silence that lasted only a few seconds before bakugou ripped his hands from yours.

“SAY IT BACK!”

***

I hope you enjoyed!

[derinthescarletpescatarian]

Trees Are Stupid.

There are some things in life that people learn without ever having to experience them. For me, one of those things really should have been ‘do not sneak out of a second story bedroom window if you have a broken leg’.

In my defense, I’d never had any trouble with the window before. The peach tree in our neighbour’s backyard was broad and healthy and one of its thick, strong branches was within easy jumping distance from my room. I’d silently slid the window open, checked to be sure that I was in the poorly-disguised undercover policeman’s blind spot, and was halfway out before I realised that balancing on the sill might be a little difficult with my right foot and calf encased in plaster.

I gripped both sides of the window frame and balanced as well as I could on my left foot. I’d always been small for my age, looking closer to eleven than fourteen, so the jump wouldn’t require very much strength. The branch, barely visible in the fading light, seemed to wave in time to the gunfire and screaming wafting up from my parents’ movie downstairs.

I leapt, and smacked right into the branch. It was a jump I could normally make without thinking about it, but the broken leg had thrown me off; I smacked chest-first into solid wood and instinctively wrapped my arms around it to keep from falling. The pain rushed through my ribs all the way to my spine, then faded, lingering for an extra moment in the little scar just to the left of my breastbone that I always tried to ignore. Not that I’d be able to ignore it any more, after the accident.

No, not accident. After the attack.

The back porch light was on. Most people would take this to be an accident, but I knew it was my parents’ plausibly deniable polite concession to the undercover police officers we were all pretending not to notice. They needed a clear view of the back door to make sure I was staying in the house like a good little boy. The light clearly illuminated the word WITCH that somebody had spraypainted across the back of our house, but it didn’t reach me in the tree. After a few seconds of stillness in which I waited for someone to move or shout, I felt it was safe to continue.

Arms and knees around the branch, I slid along it over the fence bordering our yard and towards the trunk of the tree. Our neighbours were still awake; light was visible around the kitchen blinds. This wasn’t unusual. It wasn’t all that late.

Normally I’d just drop to the ground and go ring the doorbell, but there was the issue of the police. Something else gave me pause, too; the small wreath of holly and mistletoe hung on the back door. That hurt more than hitting the branch had. Contrary to myth, neither holly nor mistletoe had ever stopped me from entering a building – I wouldn’t be able to enter most shops or cafes if it did – but the Nebits weren’t to know that. They’d always made a point of not warding their doors, and the fact that they’d done so now… well. I couldn’t really blame them, could I?

I switched to another branch, one stretching towards the Nebits’ house. The window I was aiming for wasn’t all that far from my own; it seemed like an awful lot of work to reach it by treeclimbing. If we’d been on the ground floor, I’d almost be able to reach it from my own window.

I couldn’t quite reach it from the tree, though. Again, this was a jump I’d made dozens of times, but it had been hard enough jumping into the tree with a broken leg; even I wasn’t going to try to jump out of a tree at a closed window when I couldn’t even safely stand up. I could envision the result – me slamming face-first into the wall below the window, and the Nebits coming to investigate the noise and finding a broken, bleeding body under their peach tree. Not an ideal situation.

Instead, I plucked a peach from the tree and threw it at the window. A moment later, it opened.

Melissa was sihlouetted in her bedroom light, so I couldn’t see much more than the halo of brown hair she was in the process of brushing, but I knew she was glaring at me. Melissa has the kind of glare you can feel through lead walls. When she grows up and has kids, they’re going to be the most well-behaved children in the world.

“Kayden, what the hell?”

“Are you going to let me in or not?”

“You shouldn’t be here! You’re under house arrest!”

“I know, that’s why I’m in a tree. But it is Saturday.”

Apparently, Melissa couldn’t argue with this logic. She fetched the usual climbing rope from her closet and tossed one end to me. I tied it to the tree, slid my way over to the window, and climbed in.

“Are you alright?” Melissa asked, checking over my arms for scratches and bruises. I didn’t pull away; Melissa gets focused when she’s worried, and it’s generally best not to get in her way. There were dark shadows under her eyes, I noticed, and her normally rosy, freckled cheeks were pale; had she lost sleep over me?

I shrugged. “They discharged me, so nothing can be too wrong with me. It’s not the first fall I’ve taken.”

“You know what I meant.”

I shrugged again.

“We tried to visit you, you know. They had you in some kind of high security ward and Chelsea almost got caught trying to pickpocket a nurse’s keycard.”

I suppressed a chuckle. “Of course she did. She’s not here yet?”

“She was grounded after the keycard thing, so I don’t think she’ll be able to convince her mum to – ”

Just then, Melissa’s bedroom door opened. “Don’t tell my mum I’m here,” Chelsea said quietly. “I’m grounded.”

Melissa threw up her arms. “Did anyone in this neighbourhood not sneak out of their bedroom window today?”

“Um, you didn’t,” I pointed out.

“Neither did I,” Chelsea said. “I’m not an idiot. I used our bathroom window. First floor.”

“Well la-de-da, Miss Police-Aren’t-Watching-My-House,” I said, rolling my eyes.

“Kayden, did you climb a tree in your pyjamas?” Chelsea asked.

I glanced down at myself. “Maybe.”

“You’ve lost a button.”

Chelsea, unlike Melissa and I, was not in her pyjamas. She was wearing a flannel shirt that I was pretty sure was mine. Despite being a year younger than me, we were exactly the same size, and more than once she’d joked about getting me a jaw-length blonde wig and herself a shorter brown one to see how long we could pretend to be each other before someone noticed. Said jokes were getting worryingly serious.

“It’s your turn to hide the tracker,” Chelsea reminded me.

Melissa glared at her. “That stupid tracker game created this mess, and you still expect him to play?” she snapped.

“That’s pretty insensitive, Chel,” I agreed. “Especially since I’ve already hidden it. You think the school roof was a clever hiding spot? Oh, man. You are in for a wake-up call.”

She frowned. “You’re bluffing,” she said. “You haven’t had a chance to hide anything. They took you straight home from the hospi – ” She put her face in her hands and groaned. “You found the tracker before you ended up in hospital. You had it with you. And the only other places you’ve been are your house, and a high security ward in the hospital. And you know better than to hide it in your house.”

I spread my hands. “Hey, the circumstances aren’t my fault. If you want to find it, might I suggest stealing a nurse’s keycard? Oh wait.”

“You’re both crazy,” Melissa said.

“That’s a weird way to pronounce ‘incredibly awesome’,” Chelsea said. “When does the cast come off?”

“In another week and a half.”

“Just in time for school holidays!”

“I’m suspended anyway, so it’s kind of a moot point.”

We fell silent. None of us wanted to talk about the next obvious point of conversation.

Eventually, Melissa asked, “What about after the school holidays?”

I shrugged. “They haven’t set a date for the trial or anything yet, so…”

“So you’ll probably get a super long holiday before you’re found innocent and everything goes back to normal!” Chelsea threw an arm over my shoulders. “I’m so jealous.”

I shrugged her off. “I’m not innocent. My victim – ”

“Victim!” Chelsea scoffed. “You know this is Matt Parker you’re talking about, right? If I’d been up there I’d have pushed him off myself, curse or no curse.”

“You’re innocent,” Melissa said. “You know the law. Accidental consequences of curses can’t be prosecuted, unless the carrier of the curse was knowledgably negligent.”

“Fourteen-year-olds shouldn’t use words like ‘negligent’,” Chelsea frowned. “You sound like my dad.”

Melissa ignored her. “You’ve had that curse stuck in your heart since before you could walk, and nobody could ever say you were negligent. It’s done absolutely nothing for fourteen years. No causing sickness, no turning things to gold, it doesn’t even sour milk. There was absolutely no way you could have predicted it to lash out here.”

“That’s the point,” I said. “I should have expected it to lash out, because I should always be expecting it to lash out. My control slipped, and now everyone knows I put that jerk in hospital. He nearly died, you know. I nearly killed him.”

“Your curse nearly killed him,” Melissa corrected.

“I would have nearly killed him if I got the chance,” Chelsea shrugged. “Don’t even need a curse. I would’ve just hit him.”

“Everyone knows that Matt’s injuries are more self-inflicted than anything,” Melissa added. “Nobody blames you for any of this.”

“Then why is there a wreath on your door?” I asked.

Melissa looked away. “My parents are idiots.”

“No, your parents are scared, and they’re right. Your family have known about my curse since I got it. Your parents never had a problem with it, or with me, until now. But now they finally see what it means, what it can do, and they want nothing to do with me. They think I could hurt you, and they’re right. I could kill both of you without warning. Doesn’t that bother you?”

The two girls stared at me, completely unimpressed. Chelsea rolled her eyes.

“Why would that bother us?” Melissa asked. “It’s not exactly new information.”

“You’ve always known about the curse, but now that it’s active and – ”

Melissa waved me silent. “Not the curse. I mean in general. We’re all capable of killing each other if we want. You don’t need a curse for that. Five minutes ago I threw you a rope to climb in my window; I could’ve untied my end and you could very easily have died. Does that bother you?”

“That’s different.”

“No, it isn’t. I’m not saying your curse doesn’t suck, I’m just saying it doesn’t make you a terrifying monster, and anybody who looks at you differently now that it’s attacked Matt is an idiot for not taking it seriously and getting over it years ago.”

“That’s easy for us to say,” Chelsea said, “but to be fair, people have been kind of freaking out. Your family and mine were the only ones around here who ever really knew about the curse. To everyone else, it kind of…” she shrugged.

“Looks like I lied to them about something really dangerous I was carrying around the neighbourhood?” I asked.

“… Kind of, yeah. But they’ll get over it.”

“What’s the internet look like? The police confiscated my phone and I haven’t been online since the whole thing happened.”

The girls exchanged a worried glance.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Mum turned our wi-fi off. I don’t think she wants me to see what people are saying.”

“You don’t want to see what people are saying,” Melissa said quickly.

“Don’t worry about it,” Chelsea said. “If anyone gives you trouble, point at them and babble nonsense until they run screaming.”

“Yeah, because that would help his court case,” Melissa said.

“Nobody can give me any trouble. I’m not supposed to leave the house. Actually, I should probably get back before Mum and Dad notice I’m missing.”

“Righto. Liss, do you have some rope?” Chelsea headed for the window.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Stringing a rope from the tree to your window. Or did you have another plan for getting back in with that?” She nudged my cast with her toe. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” She took a rope from Melissa, slipped easily out the window and within seconds was walking along the tree branch outside.

“I’ll never get how you two can do that,” Melissa remarked.

“It’s easy. It’s just one foot in front of the other. Until you slip and break a leg.”

“Yeah, I think I’ll stick to the ground like a normal person, thanks.”

“Sounds boring.”

Melissa chuckled and shoved me playfully. I grinned, trying to keep the mood light. Trying not to think about the future.

Whether I was found guilty of assault or not, I was dangerous, and now the whole street and the whole school knew it. There was no going back from that.

And I didn’t know what to do.

Story continues here.

[lawslessons]

A Healing Touch (Law x Reader)

“It just takes one touch, and then you’ll know in an instant that they’re the one for you. They’ll be the one that heals you...”

Hello, dears! I hope you all enjoy this! This is the letter N from the soulmate list, nursing! The premise is that a touch from your soulmate is enough to heal any ailment, any illness forever. Because of my school work load and some health issues, I may be publishing less just to take care of myself. Thank you for understanding. Love you all!

Modern! Au

Warnings: Terminal/Chronic illness, medical devices, mentions of death

Synopsis: It had been years since they had first found out they were sick. Another broken down van and another hospital trip for them to hear news they already knew before: Their illness was chronic and slowly becoming worse as time went on. But one faithful encounter with a certain doctor may be enough to change their path for the better. 

“How many years has it been since we found out you had this? Seven? Eight?” Nami asked with a small sigh as she sat with her friend on the small chair that was by the hospital bed. Her friend smiled and shook their head.

“Ten,” Ten softly said as they looked up at the ceiling as the IV in their skin slowly inserted the fluids into their system. Their eyes were somewhat dull and the bags had become more prominent from the lack of sleep these past couple of days and the serious lack of nutrition.

“The feeding tube doesn’t look comfortable,” Nami winced as she looked at the tube inside of her friend’s nose. They laughed and smiled at Nami with an affectionate smile on their face.

“You’re right, it isn’t. But I need this, I haven’t been able to keep food down in days,” they pointed out as they looked at the monitors that were next to them and saw all the vitals they were presenting. “I’m sick of being in these damn hospitals all the time though,” They said as they rubbed their face in some frustration. “I want to be able to go back and explore and have fun with you and the gang again. This is just ridiculous at this point, I’m holding you guys back,” They frowned. Nami frowned with them and moved to hold onto their hand and squeeze it.

“No, no you’re not. You can’t control your illness, no one blames you for that. Besides, maybe we can finally find a doctor here that can actually give more answers inside of just giving you fluids,” Nami sighed, the woman read the look on her friend’s face and saw that they weren’t as confident as she was in having answers so soon for this illness.

“Maybe, I’m not sure,” they sighed. “It’s getting harder each time I’m stuck here,” they said as they looked at their wrist with the numerous hospital bands on it. Nami watched the light beginning to fade from her friend’s eyes and it broke her heart just a little more.

“We can look for another — “ Nami was quickly cut off by a knock on the door and someone opening the door.

“Is this (Y/N)?” A gruff and tired voice asked as he started to look through his tablet. Part of his face was obscured by his blue mask, but they were able to see some tattoos on his hands as he typed some vital work on his tablet. “I’m the immunology specialist here, I’m here on a special consult for your case,” He said as he checked the fluids being given to them and typed some more.

“What’s your name?” Nami asked.

“Doctor Law,” The man said as he stepped back from the vital machines and looked over at Nami and her friend for a brief second. “Alright, I’m starting you on a new course of antibiotics and we’re going to take some blood samples to get some tests run,” he said as he looked up from his tablet. “Any questions?” It didn’t look like he wanted to ask that, it seemed as if he was forced to ask that out of obligation for his job. They knew that, so they knew better than to ask, but Nami didn’t seem to know that.

“How do you know that you need to start them on something new? You didn’t even do an exam,” she pointed out.

“I don’t need to,” The doctor shrugged, and they sighed at that.

“Nami, it’s alright. It’s not like he’s going to find anything new about my condition anyways,” they sighed. But the moment the words left their lips, they regretted it. Law visibly scowled and he looked away from the two who were in the room with him.

“Excuse me. I need to check on some other patients now,” he said before he went to leave the room a bit rigidly. They both watched as Law left the room and winced when the door was closed a bit roughly behind him. Silence ensued for a moment before Nami began to snicker and laugh.

“Why did you say that? I don’t think it’s a good idea to make your doctor mad,” Nami teased. They rolled their eyes and smiled at their friend.

“It’s whatever, he know’s I’m right. No doctor has been able to figure this out, what makes him think he’s so special?” They asked. Nami had to admit that what they were saying was true, she had even seen this play out in other cities and other hospitals throughout the country. They continued to talk for a few more hours before a nurse came in to inform Nami that it was time for her to leave.

“I’ll see you in the morning, alright?” Nami assured her friend as the nurses changed her friend’s medication and wrote some notes down for the doctor who as working on her friend’s case.

“Yeah, I’ll see you then,” they smiled before they started to drift off to sleep from the heavy doses of the new medication they were now on. They slept for a while until they heard something fall down in their room. They stirred in their sleep and tiredly rubbed their eyes to look up at who was in their room. Their eyes met gray ones and for a moment, the world was still between them.

“Sorry, I dropped my pen,” Law softly said as he picked up his tablet’s pen and pocketed it and looked down at the person who was staring at him. “I’m sorry that I woke you up,” he said as he awkwardly took a step back.

“Why are you here?” They asked.

“I’m checking your levels. You had low sugar and your pulse was low too,” Law explained as he looked at the monitor again. “Your levels are leveling out now, but I’m going to need you to stay here for a few more days for observation. I looked through your medical history and it would put me at ease if you stayed here,” Law said as he looked down at them again. They smirked and shook their head.

“Put you at ease?” They teased. Law scoffed and looked away.

“You know what I mean. I’m waiting on some of your tests results to come back, you know by now how slow the labs can be,” Law casually said as he looked at his tablet again. They were surprised, was he really trying to make conversation with them?

“I do know, I’ve been in and out of hospitals for ten years,” They shared. Law looked over at them and seemed to be giving them more of his attention so they could elaborate. “I was pretty young, like fourteen? Fifteen? I can’t remember, the years are blending together at this point. Anyways, I was just at school and suddenly I wasn’t. Suddenly I couldn’t stomach milk, gluten, anything. And then I felt like I was constantly on fire, I found out I was having an allergic reaction to the air freshener in my house. And when we went to the hospital, we found out that my organs were starting to shut down from how intense the reaction was. More than me being scared, my friends were terrified. My best friend Nami cried so much, we missed prom together with our other friends because of this,” They shared. And before they even knew it, Law pulled up a chair next to them and they spent the rest of the night talking, they honestly would’ve talked longer if it wasn’t for Law’s pager going off.

“I need to take this, I’ll see you later then,” He said before he had to stand up and leave. For the time they were talking to one another, they didn’t feel sick. But the second he was out of the room, their stomach started to turn and churn rather uncomfortably inside of them. They tried to get as much rest as they could before Nami and the rest of the crew came in with masks on.

“Hello! Did you sleep well?” Nami asked as she sat down next to her friend.

“Well — “ “Oi, there was someone weird standing by the door,” Luffy said as he stuffed his hands into his pockets and Zoro pointed at the door.

“Was he tall? Dark hair and with tattoos?” They asked, this emphasis on details didn’t seem to slip by Nami or Robin for that matter.

“Yeah, he was,” Usopp said while they felt their face grow a little more flushed.

“Why don’t you guys go see what’s in the cafeteria while me and Robin talk to them?” Nami suggested. And before anyone could protest, Luffy began to laugh and grab his friend’s by their hands and drag them out of the room to check out the hospital food. “Ok, so what happened after I left? I missed a lot,” Nami pouted while Robin chuckled next to her.

“I didn’t sleep that much last night,” they began before explaining with an embarrassed smile what they and Law had talked about in the night. By the end, Nami had a big smile plastered across her face.

“You like your doctor, don’t you?” Nami teased.

“Hush! No I don’t. I haven’t even known him that long,” they defended.

“I don’t believe that is a good criteria to measure it by,” Robin said with a small smile. Nami nodded in agreement before she pointed an accusatory finger at her friend.

“You’re avoiding the truth because you’re scared! You like him, and that’s ok to admit,” Nami tried to assure them. They looked a little hesitant, they brought their legs up to their chest and sighed.

“I am scared, I will admit that. I’m scared because I haven’t liked someone since I’ve gotten sick and I’m worried about what may happen if I were to one day… you know…” The trio went silent at that and all of their minds began to spin.

“Maybe that won’t happen,” Robin hopefully said, being hopeful like this wasn’t like her, so Nami knew that her friend had more to explain. “There’s this phenomenon where soulmates are able to cure each other of their ailments when they’re finally together,” she explained. Their jaw dropped and they quickly looked away.

“First you say I like him and now you’re saying soulmates? Isn’t that a bit much?” They softly asked. “I mean, I don’t think that’s possible, things like that happen in fairytales to royals, and I am not a royal. I am a regular person who is sick and dying,” a wave of sadness dropped over all of them at their words.

“Dying…?” Nami found herself asking her dear friend. They looked up at the ceiling and sighed softly.

“I’m tired of fighting,” They admitted. They heard the gasp of shock from Nami and could feel the frown from Robin, but that didn’t deter them. “There’s no point if there isn’t a cure. Every time I’m forced to be in a hospital, I get better for a few weeks and then I’m back and I’m worse than before,” their hands grabbed at the blankets as tears began to well into their eye’s. “I’m so tired of all this pain, it never ends…”

A few hours later, Nami and the rest of the group left when a nurse scolded them all for being too loud. When their friends were gone, they found themselves stuck in their own thought again. With their knees at their chest, a flood of negative emotions dropped over them and threatened to drown them before a voice seemed to pull them out of the water.

“I got your lab tests back,” He said as he closed the door behind himself and moved to be standing at the edge of his bed. “As you probably expect, the results aren’t good,” They scoffed at that and turned away from him. Why did he have to be so blunt? Couldn’t he read the situation. “But, I can do something about then,” Law shared as he tried to get them to look at him. He sighed and moved back to be a safe distance away before he pulled his mask down. When they saw his full face, their face went a soft shade of pink. Of course he had to be even more attractive, how was this even possible? “Are you listening to me?“ Law scowled, they quickly snapped out of their little day dream and nodded their head.

“Yes.”

“Anyways,” he sighed in some annoyance. “I need you to trust me,” He then said.

“Why? I don’t even know you that well,” They pointed out. Even though they talked all night, that wasn’t near enough time to get to know who he really was.

“You don’t know me? So what? I need you to trust in my medical skills,” Law sounded a little disappointed but they didn’t seem to care as much. After their talk with Robin and Nami earlier, their mind had been in one spot the entire night.

“And what if I refuse to go through with your treatment?” They asked.

“Your prognosis isn’t good,” Law looked dumbfound that they were even considering refusing his treatment, his advice. “I can only promise you weeks. Maybe a month.” They went quiet at that. The sobering thought of dying from their illness hit them. They didn’t even realize that it had gotten this bad until now.

“A month is all I need,” They finally said as they looked up at Law with a serious and content expression on their face.

“What?” Law asked in a small whisper. Were they being serious? A month? Was that all they really wanted?

“What is living if I’m stuck living in a hospital for another ten years? I would rather live one more month on the road with my friends. Our van is almost fixed, soon we can hit the road again. When it’s done, I want to leave here and live out the rest of my life,” They stated. Law looked absolutely appalled by what they were saying, while he never got involved with patient matters, he couldn’t help but feel drawn to them.

“No.” Law stated. His hands balled into fists and he glared down at the person in front of him. “You didn’t even listen to what I had to say, do you want to die that badly? Why?” Law asked. They didn’t seem to deny that, they knew that they were rejected Law’s suggestion without even listening to him.

“Do you think this is living? Laying down in a hospital bed? Not being able to eat? Crying constantly because of the pain? This isn’t living, this is hell. I’m in hell, Law,” They bluntly stated. “I just want to see heaven even if it’s only for a month, I’d give anything for that,” They admitted with tears freely flowing from their cheeks at this point. That caught Law off guard, he wasn’t expecting there to be tears. He never knew how to handle people who were crying.

“You’re right, that isn’t living,” Law agreed, “But I said I could help you, I just need you to trust me,” Law said as he put his mask on again and moved closer to them. “Do you think you can grow to trust me?” Law asked as he looked down at the patient in their bed. They looked up at Law and felt more tears burst out of them, they were overwhelmed with all the information they were given in one night.

“I’ll try,” They mumbled through their tears. Law sighed in relief and moved to stand back by the door again. If anything, they were only going through this just for Law and to appease him.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then,” Law said before he left.

The next day, the rigid treatment began. It involved Law personally giving injections to them along with fluids and more medications. He spent most of his time in their room over the next few days, and he even had to admit that he had grown attached to them the more time he spent around them. This was bad, wasn’t it? Even the nurses were talking about it.

“Doctor Law is going in there again.”

“I heard he was only here for a consult, but now he’s staying! Why is that?”

“Do you think he likes them?”

Law did his best to ignore all the words from his coworkers, but the more they spoke, the more Law reflected on his actions and the more he realized he was falling for them. Shit.

Days turned into weeks and soon they were two weeks into the process and they seemed to be doing much better than they previously were doing. And Law was too. In the nights, he would grab himself a coffee and go off to the room where they always were in and talked to them about his day at work and would hear about the shenanigans that were happening with their friends. He learned about their whole crew, Luffy was the head of their adventure and then there was Zoro, Sanji and so many others that sounded interesting. They even had a medical student traveling with them named Chopper, it sounded so fascinating to him.

“So, what’s the prognosis now? Think I’ll be better soon?” They asked Law with a hopeful look on their face. Law felt his chest tighten as they began to smile at the poor doctor.

“You should be better soon, you’re doing really good with your blood work and soon we’ll be able to give you real food,” Law explained. “What would you want to eat first?” Law found himself asking before a long conversation began between the two of them. His heart felt so, so warm, he could feel it beating even behind his eyes when he looked at them.

“Law?” They asked, “Is something wrong?” God, stop looking at me like that, Law pleaded in his head with no avail.

“No, no, you’re all good,” he assured them.

While they were at first making some progress health wise, the results that came in today were worrying Law.

“How are they that low? Why is their body rejecting the medicine now?” Law asked himself as he looked over the scans. This continued on for another three days. More tests, more worrying results and more worrying signs from them. Slurred speech, low energy, it was getting harder for them to breathe too and it was terrifying Law. Their friends were even more worried.

“Tra-guy, what’s happening?” Luffy asked with a small frown, he looked ta his friend through the window that was there and then at the taller doctor.

“I…I don’t know,” Law finally admitted. “I don’t know.” He felt like a massive failure, after all he made a promise to them to make them better. “You guys should go home now, it’s getting late. I’ll call you if I have any updates,” Law said as he looked into the window and sighed. He knew it was a mistake to get this attached to them. He knew it was farther than just being attached, he had fallen for them. Hard. It was late in the night when alarms started to blare near his area.

“Code Blue!” A nurse shouted as she stared to run with a crash cart to an all too familiar room. Law felt his heart drop while he was running, he slowed down and stopped in front of the room.

“Doctor Law! We need your help!” Another nurse shouted as she grabbed his hand and dragged the stunned doctor into the room. Law felt like he was having an out of body experience none of this felt real to him.

“Give me the paddles, now!” Law shouted as he was handed the paddles and quickly got them activated. He placed them on their chest and took in a deep breath, “Clear!” Their chest rose with the shock but their heart was still stagnant. “Charge to one-fifty!” He ordered as he looked at their tired face, God he couldn’t lose them. He couldn’t. “Clear!” Another shock, and then another and another. Soon he had to be pulled back by the nurses to stop with the paddles. “No, no no!” Law shouted as he looked down at them, the person he fell for. The nurses started to clear the room and soon Law was left alone with them.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry,” Law whispered out as he looked them over, tears rolling down his cheeks. “I love you…” He finally said through his tears. His hand went to their cold cheek and he gently caressed the smooth skin. The second his skin touched theirs for the first time, sparks shot through him. Under his fingers, their skin began to warm up and soon their heart began to beat once again. Law pulled back in shock as they seemingly come back to life.

“Y-you’re alive?” Law said in disbelief as he watched them gasp for air and cough.

“What happened...?” They asked, Law laughed and quickly moved to hug them close to his chest on the bed as tears continued to stream down his cheeks like a pitiful river.

“I thought I lost you,” Law said as he finally pulled back and gained his composure back. “You can’t get rid of me that easily,” they tiredly teased.

“I don’t want to,” Law said after a minute, they both looked into each other’s eyes and felt the sparks once again.

“I don’t want to either,” They admitted as they leaned in and rested their forehead against Law’s. Law softly smiled and gently ran his fingers through their hair. Law looked into their eyes and slowly leaned in to kiss them. Their lips connecting together felt so natural and raw and law began to feel his heart speed up even after he had broken their kiss.

“I need to run some tests now,” Law said as he gently cupped their cheek in his hand and smiled. “I’ll be back soon, I need to tell the nurses,” He said as he pressed a small kiss on their temple and moved to get some more of the tests run.

“What do you mean they’re cured?” Nami asked in disbelief as she looked at their friend who was standing, walking and acting carefree.

“We don’t know how it happened, but they’re all better now,” One of the doctors said in some disbelief.

“All thanks to Law,” They chuckled as they moved to stand by Nami and smiled.

“Oh! Speaking of him, aren’t you going to grab him so he can come with us?” Nami asked while Luffy nodded his head.

“Yeah! I want Tra-guy to come with us,” Luffy pouted. They laughed at that and smiled, for the first time in weeks, months, they were feeling better. And this was a different kind of better, a cured sort of better. They went over to one of the nurses and smiled at them.

“Is Doctor Law here?” They asked, the nurse looked at them with a bit of an uneasy expression on their face.

“Him? Oh, he left early this morning, I think he has to return back to his other hospital,” the nurse explained. They stood there with a shocked and hurt look on their face. He left? Why did he leave? Why would he want to leave? They silently nodded their head and moved to go back to their friends, but they did their best to smile. Did Law lie to them? Was he just messing with them this entire time?

“He left, but it’s ok. I think it’s time for us to leave too,” They said as they started to lead the way out of the hospital. The group of friends all looked at one another with an unsure look on their face, but they knew better than to question them about it. When they went outside, Franky stood by their nice van with a big smile on his face.

“All ready to hit the road again?” Franky asked, the group all did their best to smile with him. The group of friends looked at their now healed friend and watched as they did their best to smile/

“Yes, I think — “ They were cut off when a tan, warm hand was placed on their shoulder.

“You going to leave without me?” Law whispered to them. They quickly turned over their shoulder and looked at him in shock.

“Law! You’re here! I thought you left,” They said as he pulled Law into a heartfelt hug. Law awkwardly smiled and rubbed their back before he pulled away and gently ruffled their hair.

“I did leave, I left the hospital, I’m taking a small break for now, I need to make sure that you’re doing alright and that nothing will happen to you,” Law explained as a small blush appeared on his cheeks. He moved to used his fuzzy hat to try and hide it, but they stopped him by placing a hand on his cheek. They smiled and gently moved to press a small kiss on his cheek that left the man breathless.

“Come with us, Law,” They said before they looked back at the rest of the group, everyone behind them smiled and seemed to be on board with this idea. Law looked at them all and watched as they all came forward and tried to bring him in closer.

“Yes! A new friend!” Luffy cheered.

“Welcome to our team, Tra-guy,” Sanji smiled as he stubbed out his cigarette on the concrete. They held onto both of Law’s hands and squeezed them with this new found confidence and strength. It was all thanks to Law, they both looked into each other’s eyes and smiled at one another and knew this was the beginning of something special, a new life together. Not only that, but their crew as well, them being so accepting and warm to him made his heart clench in an amazing way, he couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe he could be this happy.

“Thanks,” Law smiled as he squeezed their hand, he could get used to these guys. Anything for them.

[squiggledrop]

I’m Sorry - Spencer Reid x Reader

Masterlist

Summary: Reid gets shot on a case and is in the hospital. But him and Reader have so much left they want to do. So, living on borrowed time, Reader does all they can do.

Word Count: 2.7k

Pairings: Spencer Reid x Reader

Category: Angst

Warnings: Allusions to death, hospitals, references to major injuries, mentions of a god

Note: Could be read as a part 2 to Your Other Half, but doesn’t have to be. But you should go read that if you haven’t👀👀. Also, the italics are “Spencer”, but are kind of up for interpretation. Also, I’m like ✨struggling✨ so I just kind of wrote this and figured I’d share, but I promise I’ll have some actual fics soon. Also, just saying this so it’s said, but, this is literally just me ranting and believe whatever you want to believe because it is 100% valid and should always be respected. Last thing, title should be read in John Mulaney’s voice because every time I read it that’s all I can hear in my head, so I think you should too. “I’m SoOOoRy”

“Hey Spence.” Your hushed voice broke through the unbearable silence in the room, only mediated by the monotonous beeping of the countless machines hooked up to Spencer.

“We’re in the hospital right now. You had surgery and they were able to fix the bullet wound. But, the doctor said that your injury caused swelling in your brain, and if it doesn’t stop soon, there won’t be much they can do.” Your breathing stuttered as you blinked back tears. “So, I’m going to need you to try and stop it okay?”

You gripped his hand in yours, resting it against your forehead as tears poured down your cheek. 

“We always knew you had a big, genius brain. I guess we just never thought about what would happen when it got a little too big.” You let out a slight laugh through your nose, blinking away the tears in your eyes. “I always knew you were too amazing to be bound by something so nominal as a human body. Normally, every room you occupy is consumed by your warmth and filled with your laughter.” You forced a weak smile as his comforting laugh replayed in your mind. With a sigh, you looked around the sterile room. The fluorescent lights were too bright. They would give Spencer a headache.

“But not this one,” you choked out, turning back towards his unconscious form. “I miss your beautiful smile and gentle eyes because, right now, you feel so small. Your hand is in mine, but it just doesn’t feel right.” You cautiously stroked the back of his hand, examining the foreign feeling. “It’s too bony and fragile. Your hands are normally soft and warm, but right now they’re just so cold.” You placed a kiss on the middle of his palm before resting your cheek in it. The chilling of his hand burned your inflamed cheeks.

“I asked the nurse to get you another blanket because I know how much you hate the cold. She gave me that look we give victims' families when we have to tell them their loved one is dead,” you scoffed. “Sometimes it really sucks to always know what people are thinking.” You tried to calm yourself down, rolling your lips between your teeth, but it was no use.

“I really need you to hang on okay, baby? I hope you aren't in any pain, but I need you to hang on.” Despite your best efforts, desperation bled through every word you spoke. “I-I know it’s selfish, but I can't do this without you Spence.” With every second that past your throat constricted even more. “I know it’s selfish, but I need you. God, Spence, please come back to me,” you cried.

I always found that to be such an interesting term: “praying to a god you don’t believe in”. You closed your eyes, relishing in the sound of his voice. You knew it wasn’t real, but for now, it was good enough. It is used in literature and in modern music so often, and rightly so, but is never given the weight it truly possesses. Despite everything you know, all of the scientific explanations you have that can explain the world around you, when you are that desperate, you throw it all out the window in a split second. You don’t believe in a god. Yet, when faced with a difficult situation, and you have nothing else to hold onto, you immediately pray to something that you know holds no validity.

“Because it’s all I can do.” 

You are so desperate and helpless to the extent that you are praying to something that you know logically is not real, yet with every fiber of your being you are praying for its help. 

“Isn’t it just human nature?”

Well, some may say it’s humanizing. I would disagree. I think it is the least human thing you can do. It’s human nature to be curious and want explanations for the phenomena around you. That’s why, out of all species on earth, humans are the most advanced. They are the only species to change their environment to fit their needs. They have no natural predators, despite having absolutely no defense mechanisms. They have survived and evolved based on their thirst for knowledge and answers. But, when faced with some of the toughest situations in life, yet some of the most natural, they disregard everything they know to be true, and blindly beg for the help of some mythological deity. 

Death is a natural progression of life. We know how and why it happens, and we have formulas and data to predict when it will come. 

“But when it’s someone you know, someone you love, despite knowing everyone’s time will one day come, you can’t help but to beg for it not to be the case,” you pointed out. 

You ask something you don’t believe in, something you know to not be true, to change the inevitable. You ask something you don’t believe in to change precedent. You ask for some miracle, that you already know the minuscule probability of. 

“Is it avoidance?”, you genuinely asked out loud, missing the way Spencer was always there with an answer for everything.

Well, you know the science and statistics behind it. You know the odds are not in your favor. So, rather than acknowledge that and live with the truth, you abandon everything you hold to be true, and instead conjure some faith in a god you know isn’t there. I mean, is it better to have blind hope or just accept the facts? 

“Isn’t there something to be said for being optimistic?” you countered.

Of course. One of the amazing laws of our natural world is that nothing is impossible. Sure, if you keep shoving your hand at the wall enough times, statistically speaking, eventually your hand will have the exact orientation to go between all the atoms perfectly, and your hand will go through the wall. But, if I were to ask you to believe that I could do it, would you? 

“No,” you replied.

Of course not. Because it’s illogical. So then, why is your immediate reaction to devastating information to refuse it and do something illogical? 

“Is it to feel useful?”

You know the statistics. Realistically, you know there is nothing you can do to change the outcome. But, it is human nature to try and come up with solutions to our problems. After having exhausted all other possibilities and coming up empty, you persist. You don’t give up. Even if you know it’s nonsensical, you still need to feel as though you are trying. But that’s the operative part: feel as though. Is it human inclination to want to try and solve the problem and contribute positively to the situation? Or is it a selfish need to not feel powerless? 

“There is nothing worse than feeling as though you have no control. When everything you love has been taken from you, and you are desperate for any solution to your problem, it makes sense that one would try all their options, no matter how unlikely, because you still have to at least try.”

But, it’s important to remember that no matter how many times you shove your hand at the wall, you will always end up hurt before it goes through. You let out a small smile, pondering his words.

“Is it a reminder, that despite how much we claim to know and understand about the universe, that we know practically nothing?”

Ah, therein lies the beauty of science. Every time a question is answered, it introduces a plethora of others to be figured out. Despite knowing the facts, you are reminded about how much you do not know. There is so much uncertainty in everyday life, and no matter how much you may try, life does not take place in a laboratory. You cannot control for all the confounding variables life has to offer. You don’t get to test your hypothesis over and over, tweaking your experiment as you go. You are granted one life. You must use it to its fullest extent. 

“Did you?” you abruptly asked.

I wouldn’t have changed anything, because it brought me to you. And you are my greatest accomplishment. You nodded your head, wiping away the tears that pooled in your eyes.

“Look, I may not believe in this supposed god I’m praying to. But, if she actually is out there, what’s the harm in praying she lets my hand make it through the wall? The worst that could happen is she doesn’t listen and I end up with a few bruises and a broken bone. Because, in the grand scheme, what’s a broken bone compared to your life?” There was silence, and you didn’t feel like waiting for a response.

“You are the kindest, gentlest, most generous person I know. Everyone has been through so much. I-it’s too soon. That's how I know there isn’t a god, because she wouldn’t be this cruel. She wouldn’t take you from us too.” In your mind, all of the losses you two had suffered over the years replayed. All of the lost lives, lost friends. “I always tried so hard to be strong for you. I tried to be there, and for the most part I was. I held you in my arms. I kissed the top of your head. I let you know you are so loved, that I was there and I would never let go, because that’s what you do for the ones you love- 

I know

“-but for every ounce of strength I gave, I lost a part of me. I still remember the day it happened. I remember the day we said goodbye, and I remember the endless months of hurt. But, what are you supposed to do when someone loses someone like that?”

Well, you hold them in your arms and let them know they are loved. 

“But I can’t do it again,” you practically shouted. “I can’t,” you gasped.

I know

“I can’t go through that again-”

I know

“-my arms are too tired and weak-”

I know

“-my eyes have lost enough tears-”

I know

“I-I can’t be strong for anyone anymore.” 

I know baby, I’m sorry

You let your head collapse in front of you, hugging Spencer’s limp arm into your chest.

“It’s not fair,” you murmur between broken sobs. “I need someone to hold me-”

I know

“-and I need someone to tell me it’s okay, because I know it’s not. Nothing about this is okay.”

I know

“God, would you just shut up? Just for once Spencer!” Your breathing heaved as you lifted your head, looking down at the lifeless body in front of you. “I know you know, okay? I know you know everything.” Your own voice bounced around the room, ringing in your ears. “You can claim that you have a formula for any problem, and sure, you can rattle off any statistic. But, for the love of god Spencer, don’t forget, mathematics was invented,” you spat. “It is a made up world that people use to quantify the incomprehensible. It’s a tool that was made to try and make sense of the chaotic world that surrounds us.” The volume of your voice shattered, and you broke down again, cursing yourself for screaming at your unconscious husband.

But, you heard his soft, knowing voice that you missed so much, try as we might, the law of entropy prevails, and with every negative delta g we descended further and further into disorder. One variable that does not have a differential equation to solve is emotions. That’s what makes us different. We care for one another. That is human nature. We try to help those in need and even if we can never fully understand the working of the universe, at least we can make a slightly more positive place. Yes, you can calculate the probability of every known outcome, but you are not a robot. We have survived because of our inclination to help others. We work together for a common goal. We love. We hate. We get scared. We get excited. We are shy and outgoing. We are happy and we are sad. But, no matter what we are, we do it with passion. We love so intensely that it physically hurts. We can feel such joy that it feels as though it is bursting out of us. We are empathetic. We can feel others’ emotions as if they were our own. 

“But, we can also hurt,” you chided. “We can hurt so bad that it feels debilitating. We can hurt so bad that it's easier to just shut off and not think.” You looked over his stoic face, desperately trying to picture his golden eyes through his ashen eyelids. “Yes, that means losing your humanity, but when it’s at the cost of feeling your world crumble before you, suffocating you with it, being a robot begins to have its appeals.”

I guess. You could hear the slight smirk in his voice. It depends on your point of view. You can have a reductionist mind set, and see the world for what it is: a bunch of chemicals interacting. Or, you can take a more philosophical approach and contemplate the meaning of life. But one cannot exist without the other. There is a nuanced duality that must be maintained, or there is no point to either.

You cupped his jaw in your hand, running your thumb over cheek. 

“Every time I see your face I smile. When you tell me you love me my heart feels so full.” You swallowed thickly, picturing all of the morning you woke up next to Spencer, never really knowing which one would be your last. “When I hug you, I feel safe. Yeah, we may just be a sack of chemicals, but I was lucky enough that our atoms came together in this specific combination at the same point in time.” Your voice squeezed as you tried to continue speaking, “And I know the probability of that happening is minuscule, so why can’t  this be too?” you pleaded. “I know it’s unlikely, but if I was so lucky to have you in my life, why can’t I be just as lucky and get my hand through the wall on the first try?”

Because you are human, whatever that means. He spoke as if it was the simplest thing in the world. No matter how hard we may try, we are controlled by our emotions. I love you, and you love me, and it’s as simple and complicated as that. 

“I know that every moment you are alive is a second of gifted time, but it’s still never enough. I don’t want to say goodbye. We have so much more to do. We have plans, and promises that still need to be fulfilled”

I don’t want to say goodbye either 

“This isn’t fair, we are supposed to have more time.”

I know, but I need you to be strong, for me.

“But I don’t know what to do.”

I need you to try.

“No, Spence, I-I’m letting you know now that I won’t be able to do it. I can't be strong again. I’m sorry, but I just can’t do it.” You cried into his chest, savoring the sound of his faint heartbeat.

“I’m sorry.”

You waited for a response, desperate to hear his voice for as long as you could. But, it never came. 

“Hey, you doing okay?” You gasped, lifting your head and looking around the room. Your eyes fell on Derek in the doorway. “I thought I heard you talking, are you okay?” Concern laced his brow as he looked at you.

“Y-yeah, I’m as fine as I can be,” you reassured, wiping your eyes. He nodded and gave you a sympathetic smile. You watched as he turned to leave, going back to the others in the waiting room. You let out a helpless breath, your eyes falling back onto the man that lay beside you. 

Yes, you are human. And as tears roll down your face, and helplessness courses through your veins, you will continue to pray to a god you don’t believe in, because what else are you supposed to do?

[monstersandmaw]

Male drider x female reader - Part Three (sfw)

Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

Sorry for the huge delay on posting this - I was prepping to drive halfway up the country last week, and then when we got here my mother in law fell and badly broke her arm at the shoulder, and had to go to the local hospital, with surgery scheduled for Monday, so it’s been... busy...

Here’s part three of cranky spooder, with part four (final, long, and nsfw) scheduled for next Wednesday so that even if there’s more drama up here in the Lakes, you’ll still get your story.

This one is shorter, but I still hope you enjoy it. The fact that he's a widower is brought up, and the fire in which his wife and unborn eggs died is also mentioned, but briefly, and in no real detail. Hope you enjoy getting to know him a little better, and we find out his name in this one too.

On Monday morning, you pushed the door open with no small degree of trepidation, but found it deserted. Your task for that morning would take you up the wooden and brass ladders into the upper reaches of the library shelves, up and down, up and down. It was exhausting, but you welcomed the exertion after days of standing over piles of books and noting down titles.

On your fifth trip down, arms laden with books, you heard your name spoken from below, but as you looked down, your foot slipped, and the books rained down to the ground.

With a shout, you scrabbled for the ladder rung but missed, and found yourself falling through the void behind you. There were easily fifteen feet between you and the hard floor, but before you could even process what was really happening, something cushioned your back and you bounced softly, swaying perhaps four feet off the ground.

Looking around, you found that you were lying in a hammock of white webbing, slung hastily from a shelf nearby and gripped in the front talons of a drider’s two front legs.

Carefully, he lowered it to the ground and held out his hand to you. Shaking, you stepped from the webbing, too surprised to notice that it wasn’t sticky, and let him lead you back to the table. “Are you alright?” he asked.

You nodded, adrenaline still flooding through you.

“I thought I wasn’t going to catch you for a second there.”

“Thank you,” you managed. “That would have been a nasty fall…”

“I shouldn’t have distracted you like that. It was thoughtless of me.”

Looking up at him as he cringed away slightly, you found yourself asking, “What’s your name?”

“My name? Why?”

You shrugged. “Everyone calls you ‘the master’, but you’re not my master. I don’t work here.”

“Yes you do,” he said, glancing at the table groaning with books for reshelving.

“Only for another four months,” you said. “I mean… I’m not part of your staff. I don't know what to call you.”

He swallowed thickly and half turned from you, showing you his profile. He had a slightly hooked nose and a sharp chin, and his dark, glowering brows didn’t lend any softness to his already angular and gaunt face. “Gilvas,” he said, so softly you nearly missed it. “My name is Gilvas.”

“Well, Gilvas,” you said with a faint chuckle, “I think we’ve got to find a way to stop scaring the living shit out of each other whenever we meet… Unless you want to keep shaking me from the stacks like an apple from a tree…”

He stepped back then and blinked softly. The tiniest smile graced his lips and he stared at you. “Perhaps we should,” he said. Taking another few steps back, his legs moving like silent mechanical levers in an inventor’s toy, he swallowed again and sighed. “What are you working on today?”

Your gaze dropped to the scattered books and you picked one up and held it out to him. “See for yourself.”

He reached falteringly for the book and missed, eyelids fluttering. “Like I care anyway,” he said, turning and leaving.

“Wait,” you called. “I’m sorry. That was thoughtless of me.”

At that, he halted again. “Excuse me?”

“I forgot…” you admitted. “I forgot that…”

“That what?”  he snarled, rounding on you and rearing up again, though only slightly this time. His pendulous body acted as a counterweight and he hung there like a nightmare between the shelves. “That I can’t see you in this light? That catching you was a literal shot in the dark? That I can’t read the title of a book this close to my face?” He brandished the tome before flinging it roughly into the depths behind you.

“Yes,” you said breathlessly.

Your admission must have taken the wind out of him because he sagged, returning his lethally-clawed spider legs to the ground again and turning away, resting his weight on the shelf with a hand as he did so. “I shouldn't have lost my temper,” he said quietly, and then left.

Chance meetings with him after that seemed to occur more regularly, though none matched that one for drama, to your relief. Finally, on one rainy afternoon as you stood by the window taking a break, he approached you. His hair was tied back off his face that day, revealing its gaunt angles and bruised-looking shadows. He was clearly a wreck of his former self, but you thought you could see the ghost of who he had been.

“You’ve finished the first four sections,” he stated.

You turned from the rainy view and nodded. “Yeah. It’s still a lifetime’s work to fix all this, you know? I’m just grouping it by category. If you want a detailed catalogue of everything that’s in here, you need to hire someone permanently.”

He nodded. “I’m aware. Though frankly, I can’t see the point. When I die, the whole estate will be broken up anyway.”

The bluntness of his words took you by surprise and you paced over to him. He wavered, as if on the point of stepping back into the safety of the shadows, but he remained where he was. He had the body of a black widow spider, you had come to realise, with the black carapace marked with the hourglass of red. The red streak in his hair highlighted it, and the colour was picked up again in his inhuman, garnet-red eyes and in the swirling, watercolour birthmark across the right side of his face and neck.

“Don’t say that,” you breathed.

“Why not?” he scoffed. “It’s the truth. I have no heirs.”

“Gilvas…” you began, but you stopped. It wasn’t your place. In the months you’d been here, all the two of you had discussed was poetry and shared the odd comment on whatever your current topic was.

With a long inhale, he said, “Tell me about yourself?”

“What about me?” you laughed. “I’m an archivist, my best friend is an orc, I’ve lived in Starfall Springs all my life, save for going to the university at Old Trollbridge, and —”

“What college?”

“At Trollbridge?” you asked. “Lady Francis.” Lady Francis of the Barbed Arrow, to give it its full title, but no one called it that.

He smiled. “I was at Calnehouse.”

Something softened in him then as he trailed his elegant, if bony, fingertips along the edge of the table.

“Met my wife there.”

Your heart leapt. This was the first time he’d ever mentioned her - or anything personal really. “What did she study?” you asked in a whisper.

“Foreign languages,” he said, voice catching. “She was brilliant.”

“You must have loved her very much…” you offered, your words feeling empty and inadequate.

Meekly, he nodded. “She would have liked you.”

“Oh?”

“Mm.”

With a shy smile, you ventured, “May I ask why?”

He twitched his head in a ‘follow me’ gesture, and you walked by his side to the back of the library. A panel stood between two wide bookshelves, and he pressed a rosette amid the ornate carving. With a click, it sprang free from the wall, and he ducked through it with barely a whisper of room on each side of his body, leaving you to follow after. As the door closed behind you, the corridor was plunged into complete darkness.

You gasped and shot a hand out for the wall.

“This way. It’s not far,” Gilvas murmured, and a moment later, a shaft of light pierced through the absolute blackness and the pair of you emerged at the other end in an unfamiliar part of the house.

“Where are we?” you asked as you watched him squeeze through and step down into a slightly lower passage. He turned and, to your surprise, offered you his hand.

You took it and found his skin cool, almost cold, and his grip strong despite the slight tremble to his fingers. He steadied you and then let go, allowing you to look around. Portraits hung all down the corridor and you stared from one to the other of them. Most seemed to be of driders, although you picked out a tiefling in one, and what appeared to be a human in another.

Finally, your eyes lighted on a striking likeness of a young, female drider with pure white hair and lavender skin. “Is that…?”

Silently, he nodded and blinked slowly.

You crossed to her and stared up at the modestly sized painting. The drider was laughing, caught on the moment of turning to look out at the viewer, hair swirling. You thought of all the life and vivaciousness he’d missed out on since holing himself up in here after her death. “She’s beautiful,” you choked. “I’m so sorry you lost her.”

“There was a fire,” he said. “Took out the whole east wing. Gutted it. I… I couldn’t reach them.”

“Them?” you blurted unthinkingly.

“She was… She was with…”

A chill plunged through you as you remembered what Naril had told you, and you turned from the painting. “Stop,” you hissed. “You don't have to relive that. I’m sorry.”

He blinked down at you, face achingly sad. “I’m glad you came here, you know?”

“I thought I was just a nuisance, reorganising all your books and getting in the way…”

He managed a weak, wonky smile and shook his head. “This place has been the same for too long.”

With a quick glance back over your shoulder at the laughing drider, you asked, “How… Low long?”

“Nine years,” he said. “She died in our last year of university. In the spring.”

“And you’ve lived here alone all this time?”

“I’m not alone,” he said, turning and looking pointedly down the length of the corridor.

Frowning, you turned and found Chiara standing at the far end, gawping at the pair of you. “My lord?” the harpy croaked, looking stunned to find you there. “Is…?” she looked from you to him again. “Is everything alright?”

His lip twitched fractionally, and he nodded. “I was just…” he sighed. “Never mind. I should let you get back to work. I promise not to shake you from the rafters again.”

“Only if you promise to catch me,” you grinned as he opened up the passageway for you.

He faltered. And then nodded. “Deal.”

Final Part --->

___

I really hope you folks enjoyed this one! Don’t forget to let me know if you did enjoy it by leaving a like and/or reblogging it!

__

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[ktheist]

pretty girls don’t get hurt | m

synopsis. your mom has been asking you for a grandchild - not even a son-in-law but the baby to said nonexistent son-in-law! and your dad is hitting an age where he can barely work anymore. at some point you’re going to take over his position as the chairman of the family hospital but you know nothing about medicine. that’s where kim seokjin comes in. he’ll marry you and become the chairman so you can keep your ceo position and you’ll get a child out of him too. it’s like killing two birds with one stone.

except there’s one problem: you’ve never met the man and you need him to agree to the marriage first. okay, make that two problems.

muses. heir!doctor!seokjin x heiress!ceo!reader x best friend!heir!taehyung

words. 15.6k

contents. slowburn. sexual tension. impregnation kink. daddy/older men kink. viagra is involved lmao. 

warnings. matured content.

verse. knj. myg. kth. pjm. jjk. jhs. story time.

x

“you want my what?”

seokjin’s jaw hangs loose, brows coming together in a show of frustrated bewilderment. it’s tells you enough that he heard you the first time but then again, you’re not asking him for dinner. you’re asking him for-

“your hand in marriage.” glossed lips curl upwards underneath the pristine white cup of hot coffee from the vending machine.

you watch as his widened eyes narrow. lips smack together and finally anger settles in the muscles of his hardening expression. “you’re joking.”

it’s understandable that he’d feel offended. even more so when it’s coming from a stranger who strode right into his office and introduced herself as the chairman’s daughter - the ceo. that’s probably the only reason he agreed to spare you his time - and you’re spending it for this.

it’d be a lie if you say you weren’t surprised that he didn’t know the ceo of the hospital he’s working at but judging from the way he treats you, like he has better things to do - lives to save, you know he’s that type of person. the mad scientist version of a doctor. doesn’t attend annual dinners. doesn’t take off days. he’s perfect.

“dad’s getting old and he needs someone to succeed him but i don’t know anything about medicine - i’m more of a businesswoman and the board wants someone of a clinical background to continue the tradition. if it were up to me, medical expenses would be much higher per patient but i’m also not a capitalist so i need someone on the field to tell me how things are at the hospital so we don’t overcharge nor do we undercharge.”

his eye is twitching at the end of your words and his jaw is clenched in suppression of agitation. at this point, you’re going to have to keep it short so not to drop the whole bomb on him before he himself explodes. “so how bout it? you marry me and become the next chairman and i’ll take care of all the non-clinical related matters. if you were to decline... i can’t guarantee things will remain the same after dad retires.”

“my break is over. it’s nice meeting you miss ___ but i hope we don’t run into each other again.” the chair screeches backwards when he stands up abruptly before you can even finish your sentence. he didn’t even check the time when he swipes his phone off the table and slips it right into his pocket. his words are as clear as day: this is the first and last time we meet.

“you still have ten more minutes, doctor kim.” for some reason he hasn’t stormed off - dare you say, he’s even taking what you said seriously - good. because you’re not here for a laugh either. you meet his heated gaze with ease. “i’m not sure you understand but you’re the cinderella and i’m the prince charming.”

you take out a single midnight scented card and slide it over to seokjin. “and this is a proposal, not a blackmail. call me when you’re ready to talk about the terms for the prenup.”

x

it’s been a week since you left your card with seokjin.

now, sitting in your office, the scene keeps replaying in your mind like a broken record. a scream erupts in the otherwise pleasantly silent room as you slump in your seat, hands digging into your hair as though if you rub your head hard enough, the memories would fade away. “taehyung, how did i even get that confidence? a prenup? he didn’t even say yes!”

the aforementioned man spares you a glance from the couch he’s lying on before going back to typing away on his phone. it’s probably yuju - one of his recent acquaintances. if you remember correctly, she’s the daughter of sbs’ ceo.

“boys are simple minded beings, give it another day and he’ll call you.” he casually assures, this time not even look away from his phone.

the sleek back hair and black button down underneath seokjin’s white coat flashes at the back of your mind. you don’t see that many doctors wearing something that needs ironing to work that often. sure there’s a dress code but your dad isn’t strict about it - all that mattered to him is the quality of one’s work. for all he cares, these doctors can come to work in pj’s. it’s you that had to make sure they don’t come in pj’s. collared t-shirts are acceptable. so are sneakers instead of heeled shoes. but kim seokjin was nothing less of button down, a well made tie and polished black shoes.

it shows that-

“he’s a man, not a boy.”

this time, taehyung’s fingers freeze on the screen before he turns his cheeks to you with an unfazed expression - as though he’d expected this but still got disappointed when he hears it. “so it’s his age? you wanna marry him because he’s nine years older than you?”

there’s something about the way he singles out the reason you decided it was seokjin, that makes you look away in shame. but you still force out a laugh in a last ditch attempt to brush it off but it sounds awkward in every octave. “ha ha ha ha what are you talking about? he’s the most eligible marriage prospect - that’s why.”

“there’s another one.” he points out. still unconvinced, “that suho guy - he’s also a fellow. also an only child-”

you speak over him,“-but his background is so-so. civil servant parents. went to an ordinary school. you think he’ll adapt to the pressure as quick as seokjin?” suho’s smiling picture peeks from underneath the documents you’d been reviewing before the flashback of your bold proposal comes and haunt you. it’s his resume along with every physician working at the hospital for more than eight years, that you’d obtained from your dad’s secretary. “you know whoever becomes my husband and assume the chairman position is gonna get chewed out alive by the board. it has to be him - it has to be seokjin.”

a sigh echoes from somewhere across from you as taehyung sits up, brows furrowed together as he rubs his head as if it’ll make the the problem go away. “yeah, but he left the social scene a decade ago. you think he’ll walk back in just like that?”

“his records have been nothing but remarkable. he sticks around and works overtime. he’s been one of the most consistent physicians that worked on every holidays. doesn’t take off days. basically a workaholic who loves his job way too much - he doesn’t need to enter the social scene. not when i’m his wife.” a grin spreads across your face by the end of it - all this time, you’d been reading the report about him but once you’ve actually put it in words, the chances of him saying yes seems to sound more real, “he’s gonna keep working as the chairman and ignore anything the board says. he’s perfect.”

“yeah, okay let’s say he is perfect and there’s no reason for him to say no except one,” taehyung pauses for a more dramatic effect, lips twitching upwards slyly as if he knows it’s already got you on the edge of your seat, “what if he has a girlfriend he wants to marry?”

and that’s when your world comes crashing down like waves against the rocks but you don’t like the smug look on taehyung’s face, “yeah but with his schedule, it doesn’t seem like he has one.”

“you never know - they could very well be living together. plus, it’s not like he has to report his dating life to the hospital and he seems like a private enough man to keep it on the low even from his colleagues.”

his words are barely registering but the longer the second stretches on with your thoughts running wild, the faster your heart seems to race. but one thing’s for sure. taehyung’s here because you’re supposed to be discussing the partnership.

“if you’re not gonna talk about work, then get out.” your eye visibly twitches - all of a sudden your best friend since you were in diapers’ presence serves more as a nuisance than a blessing.

“you’re mad, aren’t you?” a grin spreads across his lips before he bursts into laughter - he’s the only person that would laugh in the face of death, “man you’re full of ego - i guess you should be. i mean, if all else fails, he might just say yes because of your face, right, sparky?”

he’s using that nickname he used to call you when you were kids. your love - or as taehyung would put it, obsession for shines and sparkles in diamonds peaked at the age of ten thanks to your mom’s hobby of collecting dimes. she’d sold everything off after she got bored of them and needed space for the arts she bought - her new found hobby. but you remained true to your love for diamonds and symbol of riches and bought half of her collection.

over time, he starts using it less and less and only for reasons to get a rise out of you. where did that cute boy who called you sparky because he thought you were as pretty as the diamonds, go?

all he is now is a devil incarnate. with that height and silly grin of his, he easily antagonize you. and you always give in. 

“you’re supposed to be on my side and give me assurance!” you toss a balled up paper, aiming right in his face but instead of hitting the mark, he easily catches it.

“how’s this for assurance? you’re only gonna hurt yourself if you throw a ball like that.” he picks his blazer off the handrest and makes a beeline for the door when he senses the smoke coming out of your ears, “i’m late for my date, see you later!”

x

it’s exactly fifteen hours later that you receive a call from seokjin.

instead of meeting up at the cafeteria, he’d directed you to flower child, one of the most coveted fine dining restaurants in seoul two days after the call. it turns out he’d made a reservation - and you’re no fool to the long waiting line to get a table. he must’ve booked it some time after your first meeting.

he’s made some effort into putting on a black blazer and matching pants. hair styled to perfection. he may have cut his family off but he hasn’t completely abandoned the way he lived up till a decade ago. you allow yourself to check him out once - when he’d stood up at your arrival and pushed the chair for you.

thankfully, you’re not too underdressed. a creme blouse and grey pencil skirt suit any kind of formal setting.

“have you thought about what you want to include in the prenup?” you ask after the server leaves with your order.

seokjin seems more collected this time. or maybe it’s the incense and dimmed lighting that gives off a more suitable atmosphere to talk about marriage.

either way, you don’t expect the man to chuckle - a short, wistful one. as though he truly, honestly believes- “why would you want to marry an old man like me?”

you know what he’s asking: there’s got to be a catch. straightening your back and crossing it over your chest loosely, you decide to come clean - the full truth. “you’re only thirty-four but i won’t lie - you have a price on your head, doctor kim.”

the server comes back with a small cart and a bucket of chilled red wine. you wait until he pours a third of both glasses and goes away. but seokjin doesn’t appear all that eager for your elaboration - it’s almost as though he’s already known. or at least expected that much.

“your mother is willing to pay anyone who marries you a whooping ten million if the lucky bride brings you back to your family.” you watch as he studies the density of the wine, twirling the glass gently with a sort of tilt on his lips like a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, “but i won’t make you reconcile with your family. i’ve told you my intentions - i need someone who knows the ins and outs of the hospital since don’t have any clinical background and it’d be easier if we were husband and wife.”

it’s in that moment that seokjin tears his eyes off the wine and captures your gaze. in the absence of the sunlight, those brown eyes appear more black, reflecting the dancing fire on the incense. you feel naked and bare as he wedges his fingers in and tear open the windows to your soul. “don’t you have someone you want to marry, miss___? someone you love?”

taehyung’s silly grin flashes at the back of your mind like a solar flare you can’t erase - all you can do is wait until dies out on its own. you don’t realize your unfocused gaze is directed to seokjin in the split second you wait for your thoughts to gather itself. redirecting your gaze to the wayward reflection in your own glass, you let out a breathy chuckle. “yeah, well.”

it’s pathetic and embarrassing but you can’t even conjure up proper words. instead, you bring the wine to your lips, preferring to taste the bittersweetness of the wine than that of your own reality.

x

all you talk about for the rest of the night is matters pertaining the marriage. what he’ll have to endure and what he won’t have to endure. he doesn’t need to attend any of the social functions even if you’re married. doesn’t also need to concern himself with matters about his family - it becomes tricky when his family catches news of their only son’s marriage and want to be there for the ceremonious day.

“i don’t know what’s going on with you and your family but they won’t be invited if you don’t want them to be.” you fix him with one of your smiles. a tilt in the corner of your lips and a languid flutter of your eyelids before meeting his gaze. it always works - takes away the essence of the conversation and makes them focus on you so if he wants to throw your words back at you, there’s a leeway you could escape to.

until you couldn’t.

“it’s fine. i’ve been running away for the last few years - it’s time i face them head on.” he looks up from the steak he’s cutting - you still haven’t recover from the time he’d look at you in the eye and effortlessly tore your defenses like it was paper but there he does it again, splaying out your scheme like a dish best served hot, “besides, they won’t be invited but you can’t- no, you won’t stop them from showing up, right?”

it’s true. his family isn’t just any normal family. his father is a ceo of one of the most prominent cell phone companies in the world after all. you’d be invincible if you’re in good terms with your in-laws. or at least, if they think you’re on their side and want to help them get their son back.

but seeing as nothing gets past seokjin, you’re only left to either evade the question or full out deny it to keep your pride intact. either way, both options will only serve to confirm his suspicion - he may already know what you’re up to but verbalizing it is a different kind of pride-crushing. your lips curl into a smile - an irony of having been cornered in every direction from the man you thought you could wrap around your fingers.

but because your pride wouldn’t allow you to look like a fool and your ethics wouldn’t allow you to tell a flat out lie (half truths are alright), you decide the first option is much better. “there’s one more thing - i want to get pregnant within the first year of our marriage.”

or else, you’re going to end up like your parents - their bones weren’t as strong as they used to be by the time they got you and their souls were withered from the works they’d put on in their better years of their lives. your mother’s life was risked by the late pregnancy. still, they tried to love you better but there were things you couldn’t do with parents who were hitting 50 before you even reached high school. you couldn’t go camping or bike riding or fishing like your grandfather brought your father to.

it seems to have caught seokjin off guard when he stares at you with wide eyes a tad longer before dropping his head and chuckling to himself, “my, i don’t know if i still have it in me.”

and that’s how you know he’s messing with you - perhaps it’s his own way of reminding you that he’s too old for you and if he’s lucky, it’ll scare you away from the idea of marriage altogether. but the fact that he’s trying to make you give up means that he’s agreeing to the marriage. you let your lips curve into a smile, adrenaline rushing through your veins and into your very core.

you absolutely can’t wait to get married.

x

the marriage will be held within five months - it’s the earliest you can get. it’d be suspicious if you just suddenly got married without any scandal or news of dating the estranged only child of the kim family. you’ve already hired a reporter to follow you during your first three ‘dates’ - they may very well be the only dates you go on together judging from your packed schedule. it’s been almost a week since that dinner and you’ve made plans to appear in public together - your first date.

rapping your knuckles on the door, you wait for the light on the handle to turn from red to green - a signal that the owner’s allowed you access. “hey, you ready?” is the first thing you say, even though you know he’s not.

“miss ___, i’m sorry i was working and didn’t realize the time.” he seems to be genuinely apologetic - and there’s an x-ray film and some papers strewn over his desk to verify his claim. “i’ll freshen up and -”

his brows lift in surprise when you lower yourself on his lap just as he pushes the chair backwards to stand up. the usually gelled light brown hair falls over his face in a messy middle part and his button down is less crisped than when you saw him the first time. granted your first meeting with him was at noon - it’s not enough time for the demands of his career to dishevel him. it’s evening now.

his jaw slacks just the slightest bit, resulting for his lips to part - you’ve noticed their plump fullness and it’d be a lie if you said you didn’t wonder about how they’d feel on yours. the taupe acrylic on your thumb digs into the soft pink flesh of his lips before it travels to his chin.

“may i?” two words. and that’s all it takes for something lustrous to take over his eyes. you find yourself smirking when he stares quizzically as your hand leaves his face and brings his own between your lips. his fingerpads are callous from years of surgical training but they don’t tremble under the touch of your tongue. his digits are lengthier than you expect them to be. his middle finger hit the back of your throat easily before you can get them all in but he’s not the only one that’s received training.

you switch to his ring finger, tongue gently curling around it before you drag your teeth over the ridges of its joint. as a finishing touch, you make sure to lick the bottom of your lips all the while holding his gaze. then, you allow the smile to grace your lips as though nothing happened but the way you pretend to struggle to get up, causing your ass to rub against his arousal - defeats that false sense of innocence.

either way, his surprised expression turns to an amused one as he chuckles a low chuckle - an admittance of your victory, “my, i just lost, didn’t it?”

“whatever do you mean?” you blink, lashes fluttering with feigned innocence.

x

articles are starting to pop up after your personal reporter uploaded hers. it’s not enough to shake the world but it’s enough to catch the eyes of secretaries which in turn tell their bosses and as a result, your phone’s been blowing up and your own secretary has been taking calls since this morning.

“___, you’re leaving already?” taeyeon cups the mouthpiece of the phone she’s been on for the last five minutes, alarms going off in her eyes at the thought of your absence. you don’t blame her - from the way the conversation seems to be going, she might just drag the whole telephone all the way to your desk and make you answer them.

business proposals must be pouring in. you feel bad for your secretary but to be frank, the instant ringing as soon as she held up the last call - has been bothering you to no end as well.

you grin sheepishly, “i got a meeting with dad.” it’s just a coincidence that your dad called you to his office today - he usually does every once in a while just to ask how you’re doing and lament about having to handle your mother’s random burst of hobbies she’s getting into ever since you moved out.

looks like nobody’s noticed the ‘rumor’ yet from the way the workers in the administration department bows and greets you on your way to the office. granted, these people are too devoted to their work to pay attention to the latest business scandals but you expected at least one person to be blowing up the group chat with pictures of you and seokjin’s first date.

there’s a familiar figure leaning against your dad’s desk but no trace of the elder man - he must have went to the washroom or something. you thought it odd when taehyung’s eyes fall on you without the usual grin he would usually offer whenever he sees you - like reflex. at first, you assume his own date with yuju probably didn’t go very well.

“hey, loser. this is the first time you’re here earlier than me.” you fix the man your own grin, happy to be able to see not one but two of your favorite persons. taehyung’s been coming over to play at your house since forever. it was normal for your dad to invite him to his office and take you two to lunch now that you two have grown up.

...until you notice your dad on the couch and another person sitting adjacent to him. it’s easy to miss people when they’re sitting down and easier to have your eyes focus on taehyung’s tall frame.

the tension almost crushes your lungs as soon as you walk through the door. it becomes apparent all too soon that taehyung tried to warn you with his eyes to not be your usual idiot self. now, you’re paying the price for it as all eyes fall on you.

the third person in the room turns his cheek towards you - seokjin. he offers a too polite smile as you come to a stop next to the couch he’s one.

“daddy?” all of a sudden, you’re a child in a room full of adults and calling your out to your dad, as if it would somehow make him explain this situation you just walked in.

the elder man releases a long drawn sigh before speaking, “i’d like a word with my daughter and doctor kim, if you don’t mind, taehyung.”

“sure, uncle.” the aforementioned man offers one of his gallant smiles, pushing himself off the desk without taking out his hands from his pockets.

you grab onto taehyung’s arm as he’s about to pass you - pleading with your eyes for him not to leave you, a mere ant, with the elephants in the room. that’s when his serious facade falls through and he’s grinning at you like a brother would to his sister when he knows she’s going to get in trouble with their parents. your temple throbs with a burst of rage but before you can say anything, he’s already out of the door.

the sweetness of the tea mrs. nam served is tasteless compared to the tangible tension in the air. it’s become apparent that while the more tech savvy staff remain clueless of your updated dating status, your father, is not.

be it as it may, guess you should give credit where it’s due - seokjin’s expression is free of any tautness. it’s perfectly neutral - it’s frightening. you know for a fact you’re not saved from a hard line on your glossed lips and a crease between your brows.

“i heard from my wife that you two are dating.” the elderly man finally breaks the silence.

he’s addressing your mom like that so to make it known that he’s talking to seokjin too - and you’re not the only one in hot water. but seeing as it’s your idea and your proposal, it’s also your responsibility to respond-

“that’s correct, sir.”

-but seokjin beats you to it. it’s not just his expression but his tone is completely at ease. almost as though he’s faced tense situations like this one too many times.

you breathe out before speaking, “i was going to introduce doctor kim to you and mom once we bought our engagement rings.”

your dad finally looks up, eyes wide and mouth slacked for the briefest second before his eyes flutter close. now’s about time for him to be rubbing his temples from the headache but instead, he lets out a sigh. for a split second, you see your dad for the age he is - not the age you remember him as in your earliest memories. wrinkles and smile lines and graying hair.

the seconds stretch on as do the silence. you can hear the distant ringing of the telephone all the way from mrs. nam’s desk from outside, almost clearly.

once your word settles in, then comes the million dollar question, “do you two love each other?”

it’s a no brainer. anyone with eyes can see and answer that for you - or perhaps taehyung already told your dad since he must have gone through a similar interrogation session. and yet, it’s only natural to want confirmation from your own daughter instead of her best friend even though he knows everything about her.

this can only go two ways: yes or no.

but you’ve never been fond of flat out lying, especially to the man who taught you such principles and you’ve talked about marrying for convenience with them ever since you realized that ambitions tend to reward but cheap sentiments like love does not.

yet your chest feels heavy having to go against your parents’ wishes and hopes for you - they want what any parent want for their child. happiness. “no, we don’t.”

“but no one enters into a marriage with divorce in mind. i don’t plan on just being a husband to your daughter just on paper. i’ll care for miss ___ and treat her the way like a queen. that much, i promise, sir.” seokjin holds your dad’s gaze - it’s haunting and charming, you would know. you’d been on the receiving end once too many times already. and you know that’s how he gets your dad.

the older man nods, shoulder line relaxing almost as though he’s been lifted off a dead weight. he’s not the only one - you don’t realize you’ve been holding your breath until you feel your own muscles loosening and you’re breathing out in relief.

until his head snaps up to point out one thing, “you’re getting married yet you’re not on first name basis?”

x

“sorry to rope you into family drama, i’ll be more prepared next time so you won’t have to leave your work.” is the first thing you say once you’re in the elevator. your dad has made sure to grill you to half-death with his questions. he’s gonna give the immigration a run for their money. the first name basis matter is just the beginning of a series of dread -

‘what’s my daughter’s favorite color?’

‘dad, do you even know my-”

‘shh. do you know my daughter still wets the bed at the age ten?’

‘dad!’

seokjin had taken your dad on in stride. he chuckled when your dad said something ridiculous, borderline false and he listened on when your dad went on about the sob story of a ‘poor father with an undefeatable daughter’. but the way he did it was so effortless - almost as if he was a boyfriend visiting your parents and getting told all the embarrassing stories of your childhood and would tease you about it but at the end of the day, tells you he thinks the kid-you was cute - bed wetter or not.

there’s something that restricts your airway at the thought of sharing a feeling so strong with someone. in no time, you push the intimate image away. you and seokjin aren’t like that - this is marriage is strictly convenience-based.

“i asked a friend of mine to cover for me.” so he knew it’d be long but he didn’t actually said it was okay either. marriage is a tricky subject especially for someone as work-crazed as seokjin. you’re surprised he hasn’t cursed you out for making him miss work. “is it red?”

“what?” you blink, steps halting as you stare up at him with what starts to be mindless curiosity but ends up with a stretched on pause as you study the man’s visage. the plumpness of his lips is a given- it’s the first thing you noticed about him.

“your favorite color.” the corners of his lips lifts upwards before he includes his assertion, “you’re always wearing something red - your lipstick was red when we went for dinner. you have a red blouse on now.”

 even you didn’t know you have so much red. but it’s true - your functions and meetings wardrobe consists of red and black predominantly besides the more neutral pastel colors. you have a higher success rate of getting sponsors when you wear the tight fitted red dress.

but it’s not a preferred shade per se.

“no,” you chuckle, “my favorite color is yellow, like the banana.”

seokjin’s brows rises at that. he probably didn’t expect that - nobody expects the fierce and confident woman to like such a bright, clarifying color. “though i understand why you think it’s red.”

his lips curl into a smile - the kind of smile that mimics your own, not the one that he wears to charm your father. though that one was also genuine, this one makes him feel younger. like someone you can crack silly jokes with instead of the ever uptight working man.

before he manages to say anything, your name reverberates across the lobby. taehyung’s shrugged off that ugly grey checkered blazer of his and left it at the sofa as he mini run towards you. the grin on his face gradually falls off when he notices the lack of smile on your face.

“you left me for dead!”

he blocks your fist with a hand around your wrist before sighing as if you’re not just directing every ounce of energy in that punch of yours - but then again, none of your smacks really get to him.

“i didn’t know uncle was gonna ask me about that - i thought it was gonna be the usual lunch. i mean, come on, i waited for you down here even though i have work to do so i can make sure all your limbs are intact!” he looks like he almost meant it. almost.

it’s in that moment that seokjin’s remark reminds you that he’s still there, “you two must be close.”

“huh?” taehyung narrows his eye at you as though you’re no more than gum under his shoes while you whip your hand out of his grasp and scoff.

“nah, i’m her only friend.”

“it’s because he doesn’t have any other friend.”

you both say at the same time.

at least seokjin’s still able to laugh with all the intention-to-kill in the air. before you can elaborate on how taehyung kept following you around like a lost puppy when you were younger, seokjin’s hand finds its way around your shoulder, you thought it odd that he needs to pat on the shoulder farthest from him but it turns out he’s pulling you towards him but by the time you realize it, you’re already craning your neck to look at him. but you barely notice the awkward position of his lips on the spot just above your left eyebrow - his lips really are soft. and warm.

and gone.

before you know it, he’s pulling away, saying something about seeing you later - you couldn’t hear it from the blood rushing in your ears and the heat rising on your face. it’s only after you see his white coat disappear around the corner do you finally take notice of the slyly grinning fox in front of you.

“what did i tell you? simple-minded beings.”

x

you still don’t know why seokjin kissed you on the forehead.

sure, he told your dad he’s not planning to just be a husband on paper - okay. but he’s nowhere near a husband to you yet and you haven’t even given him an engagement ring. it doesn’t help that your heart keeps racing every time time the image of his sharp jaw and pursed lips before he kissed you, plays at the back of your mind.

he smelled good too - like aftershave and lemon and a hint of disinfectants.

before you know it, you find yourself rapping on his door eight minutes past 7 in the evening. after a whole solid minute of the red light on the door handle remaining the same color, you finally let out the breath you’ve been holding. it’s supposed to be past his shift but judging from the lack of response from the other side of the room, you know straight away that he’s still at the wards. it may have been an impromptus decision but now that you’ve walked the distance from your office to the other end of the building, you might as well go the extra mile and actually look for him. 

most of the nurses and doctors that pass you recognize you, bowing briefly before hurrying to where they were heading before they saw you. you rarely visit the cardiology department - or any other department for that matter because it’s always a hassle for the staff to prepare to greet you. in that aspect, you agree with seokjin - that they could be doing something better than pushing their schedules on their colleague to accompany a sightseeing vip.

“miss ___?” a young man around your age calls, his brows furrow at the idea that his eyes could be fooling him but when you turn to him, his eyes light up in pleasant surprise, “it really is you. why - i didn’t know you were visiting today.” 

“doctor kim,” you don’t forget a face easily - right before you is kim suho. the smile that stretches when you recognize him is telling enough. his past achievements are definitely to brag about and he must have attended the annual dinner if he recognizes you, “good evening. this isn’t an official visit - actually, i’m looking for someone. do you happen to know where doctor kim seokjin is?”

“seokjin?” he repeats the name with a sort of familiarity, coupled with confusion. of course, he’s probably wondering what the work-crazed doctor did to have the ceo come all the way to the wards.

“miss ___?” it’s feels almost deja vu - having your names called out by two different people within the span of five minutes. both sounding equally confused but for different reasons.

“good evening,” you fix seokjin one of your alluring smiles, heart skipping a beat - it’s probably the stethoscope hanging over his shoulder. it compliments the collared button down and white coat, look you usually see him in, “i went to you office but you weren’t there so i came here.”

“let’s talk in my office.” he clears his throat, eyes drifting to look to somewhere on his left before he stops himself. if it’s the whispering nurses at the counter he’s worried about - he shouldn’t be. because you’re about to put a ring on it.

x

“sorry, i was doing my last rounds but the patient was a chatty one - i lost track of time.” he says, walking into the office and setting the stethoscope down on his desk before he takes a seat behind it.

you notice the way his eyes travel from your perfectly pinned up hair down to your diamonds adorned neck down to the halter strap of your elegant maroon dress that wraps around your body flawlessly. but he doesn’t say a word - and you’re forced to school your expression to not show your surprise and hurt when he doesn’t even let his gaze linger for any longer than necessary as he meets your eyes again.

you take out the suede velvet box from your purse and place it right in front of him. “it just came in, why don’t you try putting it on?”

his eyes twinkle with a surprise not because of the foretelling shape and characteristics of the box, nor the affirmation of the silver band inside it but because it sits snugly around his ring finger when he slips it on.

“how did you get my size right?” the impressed tone laced in his voice makes your chest swell with pride and lips curl into a smirk.

it only takes him a few seconds to interpret your smirk - that time in his office. the ghost of his digit on your tongue still lingers. it wasn’t just for show and you weren’t cruel enough to put a man through that misery if you didn’t have your own reasons.

he shakes his head, ring bluntly glinting as suppresses his chuckle with his hand.

your heart is beating too loudly in your chest - there’s something in the way he’s bearing your claim but you still manage to sound leveled and collected. “since we’re officially engaged, do you mind if i call you seokjin?”

“i’d like that very much, ___.” he’s finally dropped the suffix. ms. this, ms. that. you’ve gotten used to it but it serves to enforce the invisible line between you and him when he addresses you so formally.

your phone buzzes in your purse - it must be taehyung. you didn’t expect to spend longer than ten minutes but he must be waiting at the lobby if he’s texting you now. standing up, you bid him a parting “have a nice evening, seokjin.”

he doesn’t seem like he has anything on his mind but just as your hand covers the handle of the door, he speaks up, “once we’re married, could you refrain from going to these functions?”

it takes you off guard. like a spear that pierces you just as you lay down your armor but you’re not one to let something like this get to you, “i’m afraid that’s not possible.” and that’s it. it’s final.

but you should have known when you decide to use that practiced icy tone, that seokjin wouldn’t just back off the way almost everyone would. the only people who would still have the gal to say something or dismiss it are your parents and taehyung.

“i know you expect me to be an obedient husband and become chairman and do my job. it shouldn’t matter if you attend these functions since you’re not forcing me to go with you.” and there’s those eyes again. tearing into the soul of your window and stripping you bare the way only kim seokjin could. “but marriage is about compromise - giving up one thing for the other. i’m gonna inherit my dad’s fortunes and you’re gonna get that 10 million my mom promised. shouldn’t that be enough to get the projects for the hospital rolling?"

when he says it like that, it seems so easy and simple. “no wonder you’re a doctor. you don’t know a thing about maintaining a sustainable business.” you let your lips curl briefly, “but i’ll think about what you said.”

then, you’re out of his office. heels clicking against the floor as you make your way to the lobby and into taehyung’s familiar sleek black burgatti.

x

“so he asked you to stop coming to these functions.” the car rolls to a stop right in front of the hall where the birthday party of seollyu’s president is held.

“in essence, yeah.” you say after he comes around the car and your hand automatically tucks itself in the crook of his arm.

“then why are you mad?” the car purrs behind you before the valet takes it somewhere to park it.

some of the reporters at the entrance calls your and taehyung’s names in an attempt to make you look at the camera. there’s too many and the lights are blinding - you just want to get into the hall quickly. at least they won’t be able to follow you past the doors.

“i just - i don’t like that he’s asking me to change, you know? just because i’m married, i won’t get to do the things i usually do before? that’s just bullshit.” you huff in frustration - not bothering to hide your stiff eyebrows and slightly pursed lips all the while you have your pictures taken. at best, they’re going to slander you with jealousy over taehyung’s new budding romance.

“i mean, he did cut his family off and stopped going to these things.” the man shrugs, “maybe he has a good reason - did you even ask him why?”

and that’s how you know you’ve lost the fight. taehyung’s too sensible - naturally, he wouldn’t have his own startup at such a young age, if he isn’t the way he is now. but you don’t want an analyst - you want a friend who would listen to you and let you vent your frustrations before finding the root of the problem and suggesting the solution.

taehyung knows this and he knows plenty of many things, having been your childhood and best friend all in one package. but because he knows you too well, he also knows you’ll end up doing something you would regret if he were too late to point out your mistake. sometimes you want to prove him wrong - that you can call the right shots when it comes to people without having him paint a picture for you to foresee the outcome but so far, there’s limited exhibits of your success. your failed past relationships being the prime examples.

“i hate it when you’re right.” you grumble, letting your hand fall to your side - usually you wouldn’t mind having to cling onto taehyung like a child. you’re all the other has in these functions - everyone has their own reason for attending and just like absolutely everyone, you approach people because of what they can give you. that’s why you see groups of people your age flocking together - they grew up trained to sniff those with ill intentions and those with a mutual interest.

and usually, they’ve known each other at a very young age - the way you knew taehyung for as long as you can remember.

you have other friends too - or rather, they’re people you single out to be of no threat to your business and could even become partners someday. like sowon - her bright amber dress making it seem as though a ball of fire is flitting across the hall. you’re about to wave at her before you notice a more furious fire burns in her eyes.

“you bitch!”

all of a sudden, your neck is craned in an awkward angle. the blaze on your cheek settles a little later than the realization that sowon just smacked you right across the face yet when you turn back to her, hands clenching and unclenching in suppression of rising anger - she’s the one with tears in her eyes. “i trusted you.”

oh boy.

the host hasn’t even made his speech and the crowd’s already excited. the widespread whispers don’t go past you - some of the people in your periphery doesn’t even bother hiding leaning into the person next to them while stealing glances your way. but you doubt the woman in front of you would notice anyone here but you.

“ladies, there’s plenty of me to go around.” taehyung speaks from next to you, his smooth baritone echoing off and reaching anyone within five feet. you know he’s doing this to cover for any other possible misunderstanding - after all, this isn’t the first time you’re trapped in a scandal between taehyung and one of his girlfriends.

sowon loathes taehyung though.

but it doesn’t matter as long as everyone thinks it’s just another day of you getting in between the budding romance of taehyung and his female acquaintance. you can already see the expressions of the guests falling - probably disappointed at the not-so-news news. but there are also those who snicker underneath their breath - probably one of taehyung’s past acquaintances. it’s no secret taehyung would choose you over them in a heartbeat - and it’s been established when taehyung appears at a function with another woman once and appear to the next five with you until a new poor soul takes that woman’s place.

what can you say? your best friend’s a charmer. but the downside is, you don’t have that many female friends at functions. and one of the few you do have, you’ve managed to piss off.

sowon’s sniffle tears your attention away from the crowd. flushed cheeks and puffed eyes. you’re not close but you’re acquainted enough to know she’s a woman of pride and confidence. she wouldn’t lose her cool over a man - well, at least not a licentious man like taehyung. and that’s the only reason keeping you from bitch slapping the pride off her. the sting on your cheek is nothing compared to the injury your pride sustains - all because what’s left of your conscience wouldn’t allow you to return the slap.

deep down, you know you deserved it and more. your insides churn painfully. all of a sudden the dress around your body is two sizes too small. it’s suffocating - the whole room is suffocating.

“after everything i told you - you had to go for him?!” her scream could almost burst your eardrums if it isn’t for the blood rushing in your ears.

it’s easy to think she’s referring to taehyung. somewhere from across the room, the crowd starts clearing out a path - looks like the host has caught wind of the commotion sowon has caused.

you want to curse her too. hurt her with words as much as she hurt you with her physical assault. but instead you find yourself dropping your gaze.

“i’m sorry, sowon.” is all you say before mr. jung and his army of secretaries approach you and bring you two to different rooms. by the time dinner starts, sowon isn’t around - it’s understandable, her pride wouldn’t allow her to let these people poke fun at her.

but you don’t survive this world you’re born in by running away - you survive it by developing skin as untouchable as scales. so you stay until desert, smiling with a sore cheek and conversing with those who you know would be neutral about the incident, like nothing happened.

taehyung sticks closer to you. he doesn’t ask if you’re okay - you’re not. but when you tug on his sleeve and timidly murmur you wish to go home, he does so without hesitation. it’s times like these you’d choose him over the world.

x

the tabloids love gossip. a sensational, popcorn-worthy scoop. there are two divided groups thanks to that. the first one is devoted to the belief that it’s a love triangle between you, taehyung and sowon. the other one, choosing to dig deeper than what’s on the surface, believes it goes way back. ten years back.

“sorry, i should have told you sowon was my ex-fiance - it didn’t occur to me until i saw the articles that you two might meet at a function.” seokjin finally says, the strawberry ice cream beginning to melt in its paper bowl when he asked you to ‘at least, let me cure your injury,’ - you didn’t, in a - make that ten - million years picture it to be in a form of an ice cream bowl he bought from the mini convenience store next to the cafeteria. it was to hold it on your cheek but you couldn’t just let good food go to waste.

it hurts to even smile but you can’t help it at the thought of the rumored half-mad doctor using his break for something besides working some more. coupled with a shake of your head and the plastic spoon trapped in between your lips, you look just as insane. 

your heart still clenches at the recollection of the other night, “i knew you two were engaged.”

his shoulder line straightens just the slightest bit as he lifts one eyebrow, not completely surprised but neither is he unfazed. so you continue, “it was by pure dumb luck that you turn out to be the best marriage prospect for me but i thought she was over it since it’s been years.”

there it is again, the churning in your stomach. like something’s eating you from the inside. if you focus enough, you can hear the voice inside your head scoffing - even if they’d just broken up yesterday, you still would have proposed to seokjin, maybe even the day after said break up. 

this time, you don’t look away when his eyes meet yours. you let him strip your armor down to your very core. show him just what kind of person you are - the person who wouldn’t let anything get in the way of her ambitions. wouldn’t dwell cheap sentiments like friendship. even if that made you - as sowon would put it - a bitch.

then, he lets out a heavy sigh - the kind of sigh a parent would do when their kid got in trouble and admitted their fault. so now he can’t lecture you on morals and ethics because you have your own principles.

if anything, it reminds you of the glaring difference in your age - the things he’s already experienced that you’re about to someday. the betrayals. the broken friendships. the choices between what you want and what you need. he’s probably seen this all before.

“is an old man like me really worth all that trouble?” the tiniest of smile graces his strong feature. eyebrows wavering with something you can’t pinpoint.

“well, there’s a doctor - kim suho.” this time, you don’t bother pointing out his not-even-that-old age. the way his eye twitches barely noticeably tells you he doesn’t expect your answer. a moment later, it becomes too apparent, from his troubled expression - brows stiffed and jaws tight, that he doesn’t like the idea of you asking for another man’s hand in marriage. you have to tell yourself to refrain from smiling, not because your cheek might hurt again but because it’s probably not a good time to tease him.

deciding to release him from his own misery, you quickly elaborate, “but he has an average background - no matter how much experience he has, you don’t just get on your knees and start slithering with the snakes. you have to be born into the family. so yes,” you place your ice cream on the coffee table, hand pushing back a strand of hair to appear more delicate and win his favor while you let a furtive smile adorn your face - and there’s a smile he’s suppressing too because he knows what you’re trying to do, “this old man is definitely worth it.”

his shoulder line seems to ease up as he tries to hide a relieved sigh by clearing his throat. but it’s short lived when the crease between his brows returns and a newfound tension settles in space on the couch separating the two of you, “yes, but suho was never the one i should be on a look out for, was he?”

you blink but he’s already shaking his head. a smile on his face, “never mind.”

x

things seem to settle down - everyone at the hospital knows about you and seokjin now. and you’ve managed to convince him to finally use his off days to spend it on preparing for the wedding. cake tasting. dress and suit fitting. deciding on what color the napkins should be - a month ago, you approached seokjin with the mindset to make him agree to marry you. after all, prince charming was the one who had it all - it didn’t make sense to have cinderella do all the wedding planning.

he was mad at you for some reason - it lasted for quite awhile until you directly asked why he’d been given you the cold shoulders. “you keep playing a two man game by yourself.” he sighed when he said those words - because he saw in your eyes, that you thought there was nothing wrong to be finishing what you started by yourself, “we’re getting married - we’re gonna become a team yet you keep making decisions by yourself.”

ever since then, you started asking if he wanted to join you to the cake and dessert tasting, napkin color picking. you didn’t realize how nice it was to do things with another person than decide it on your own.

and somewhere along the way, you started teasing him more.

“if the saying ‘men age like fine wine’ is a person,” a grin slips over your face as you shamelessly give seokjin is a once over, “then you’d be the embodiment of that.”

he doesn’t seem to mind - rather, he seems like he’s enjoying the attention as he chuckles and shakes his head. probably thinking there’s no saving you and your compliments now.

“come here.” it’s the way he says it - with a smile on his lips and eyes that says you’re all he sees and hand extended to capture yours, that makes you jump from your seat. the front of the dress bunched up in your hands as to not trip over it and right into his arms. just like moth drawn to flames.

he pulls you up over the platform that he’s been standing on and lets you stand in front of him, hand on your shoulder as you stare in front of the 3 part mirror in the boutique. the dress you have on is a light gold dress with a sweetheart neckline that wraps around your curves flawlessly down to your knees and flow out like a mermaid’s tail. seokjin has on a traditional cobalt blue single breasted suit with three buttons fitting around his waist perfectly. his hair is gelled back the way you specifically requested.

he gave you a quizzical look as though wanting you to elaborate on your reason for that request but you’d only left him with a kiss on the cheek and a ‘see you on monday.’

if there’s one thing you learned about seokjin, it’s that he’s devastatingly unaware of his strong features that makes every woman’s legs turn to jelly and every man’s heart skip a beat. and he chooses to hide it under that usual middle parted style.

seokjin’s reflection bends down but his eyes remains on you as he whispers against the shell of your ears, “you look exquisite.”

you have half the mind to push him off and run away in case he’d ear the erratic beating in your chest but he probably already knows from the way you shyly look away. the you from a year ago would laugh at what you’ve become - the kind of girl that gets flustered and can’t form a proper sentence in the presence of a male. but before you can respond, a boisterous voice from the sofa you were sitting at, announces, “alright, next!”

your teeth clench together as you whirl around to face taehyung’s silly grin. that cockblocker - he knew you were having a moment and went out of his way to ruin it. “what are you even here for? don’t you have something better to do?”

for once, taehyung isn’t on his phone. you wouldn’t mind it so much if he’d just ignore you half of the time whenever you hang out. “your mom tasked me to find you a perfect dress since she can’t be here.” there’s a glint in his eyes - something ratchet and devious but his lips curve like that of an angel.

you don’t miss seokjin’s tightened jaw and stiff shoulder line as he helps you down the platform. ever since taehyung showed up ten minutes into fitting, seokjin’s expression has been switching from that suave smile to looking like he has a splinter stuck in his thumb - a human sized splinter that goes by the name of kim taehyung.

you never thought you’d live to see the day when kim seokjin would harbor any sort of animosity towards someone - he’s probably a strict supervisor, but resentful? can’t be.

you chalk it up with the plain fact that anyone who’s not head over heels for taehyung would want to skin him alive on the early stages of getting to know him.

“hm? seokjin’s not here yet?” you ask once you’re back from the fitting room, having slipped into an ivory trumpet shaped dress. it’s a much simpler design compared to the one you had on which makes it a perfect counter part for the after party. “that’s a first, the lady finishing first than the guy.”

“oh, it’s not that unusual.” taehyung snickers. guess that just shows how confident he is with his skills.

“i’ve never been this tired and i’ve only tried on three dresses.” instead of entertaining his remark, you choose plop down next to him.

“sparky, does he love you?” it’s that nickname that gets you.

there are only two circumstances where he would call you that: one, when he wants to annoy you and two, when he’s feeling nostalgic. guess it’s finally hitting him that you’re no longer kids chasing each other around in one of his mansions. you’re both grown up and one is trying out wedding gowns.

“uh, me and seokjin are about to get married, taetae.” you throw in a nickname of your own just to lighten up the mood.

but all it does is lift the corners of his lips into a wistful smile. and that’s how you know you can’t be telling your half-truths. and evading his question isn’t working all that well either. “it feels like we can talk about things more openly now - but no, i don’t think he does. he’s marrying me to become the next chairman and i’m after his money and maybe get a kid out of him too.” a knot forms in your stomach - something about what you said doesn’t sit well with you but this is what you wanted. this is what you prepared for the moment you decided to ask seokjin for his hand in marriage. you shouldn’t hope for more.

the laugh taehyung lets out is reactionary. humorless. “can’t you wait for me? i know i’m in no position to ask - but can’t you?”

two years and three months ago, when you were a little youthful, had a little more stars in your eyes - maybe you would’ve said yes in a heartbeat. with every birthday you celebrate, fear rears its ugly head and reminds you that time isn’t an illusion and you know better than to bet on something - someone you're not sure you can win.

your heart aches a similar way it did two years ago - but you know now it’s not because it’s breaking to pieces. instead it’s hurting for the pieces of that young boy you could never hope to complete using yours. it took awhile but you know how to get back on your feet - but it’s not all that simple for taehyung. only he can fix his broken pieces.

“i stopped, taehyung,” you finally say, gaze burning holes inside the lace material of the dress, “the moment you told me you can’t - i stopped loving you. i’m glad i did because it wasn’t love. i was just scared to lose you like you’re afraid to lose me now,” you tug on his hand to get him to look at you and he does - all of a sudden, you’re both eight, inside your own bedroom with your dolls and his remote control cars strewn across the floor, “but you’ll always be my taetae and i’ll always be your sparky - i’m always gonna be here for you.”

you thought he’d changed. it’s nice to know he still uses a fruit scented shower gel when he brings you into a hug. the piercing sweet scent isn’t as strong as you remember it. the hug lasts a bit longer and his body is trembling slightly but you know it’s going to be okay - even if he packs up and leave for a foreign city like two years ago when you told him you loved him and you had to hunt him down through your wits and will (that damned private investigator accumulated a fortune to last him for probably ten years). at the end of the day, you’ll come back to each other. because the bond you’ve formed is thicker than the blood coursing through your veins.

“if he makes you cry, you come to me, okay?” you can’t even be mad when he ruffles your hair before picking up his blazer and shrugging it on. by the end of it, you’re both smiling - though his remains wistful, yours is sanguine.

it’s only after taehyung’s figure disappears through the door, do you notice the feeling of a pair of eyes burning holes inside your head.

“seokjin.”

the man is leaning against the door where his changing room is. you don’t need to ask why his brows are strained and the lips that would usually grace you with a smile, is pressed into a tight line.

x

“i never knew-” seokjin stops himself, lips pressed together as though he doesn’t want to say it, but he does with a shake of his head, “-no, i did know there was something between you and taehyung.”

you end up in seokjin’s apartment. the whole ride has been stiff silent. it’s the first you’ve seen him so disheveled. his tie hangs loose on his neck as though he’d yanked it without a care in the world and forgot about it. the first two buttons of his button down are undone. what once was his perfectly sleeked back hair disheveled from having been mussed up.

the hot chocolate seokjin made you is losing heat the longer you hold onto to it for the sake of having something to do with your hands. “i proposed to him two years ago and stopped loving him as soon as he turned me down - taehyung, he... he’s got a lot going on. that’s all i can say. i hope you don’t misunderstand what you saw.”

his eyes turn as round as saucers for the briefest moment before they flutter to their original almond shapes. shoulder line shaking from chuckling - but there’s nothing funny about any of this so you keep your eyes on him. if he needed confirmation of the truth you’re speaking, he need only search it in the windows of your soul.

“that’s very like you, ___.” he finally says.

you’re not sure what he meant but you’re not about to ponder on it either, “is there anything else you’d like to know about me, seokjin? there’s no reason for me to lie to you - we’re about to get stuck with each other for the rest of our lives. we should at least be able to talk about our past openly.”

when he doesn’t seem to have any other inquiry, you decide to let go of your pride - the reason you never asked was because you were too proud to be wrong. growing up, there were only a few people that you let poke fun at you and fewer you’d let prove you wrong. it dawned on you some time after you’re all showered and ready to go to bed one night - that you’re about to let seokjin waltz into your life and he’ll bear witness to your most intimate side. he’s about to be said one of the fewer people.

“then, my turn - why did you want me to stop attending social functions? i’ve been doing it my whole life - i’m good at it. and i’m not planning to stop just because i got married unless you have a proper reason for asking me to.”

the way his gaze drops tells you it wasn’t just a baseless request. you reach out across the counter, slipping your hands into his. that seems to have brought him back.

“my parents chose to attend a function instead of staying by my grandfather’s side even when the doctor told them he wouldn’t make it til morning - they weren’t even sorry. couldn’t even stay throughout the whole funeral.” he shakes his head almost as though being hung up over it was ridiculous yet couldn’t move past it either, “it’s ugly what too much wealth does - i just- i’m sorry i asked such a thing from you. it’s my own problem that i have to deal with, you don’t have to stop.”

it’s not hard to put yourself in his shoes. you understand where he’s coming from - you want to tell him that but somehow words are cheap. especially right in this moment.

so without thinking, you slip off the stool and walk around the counter until you reach him. the last thing you see before you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down to your level, is his wondrous gaze.

the man doesn’t flinch away from your touch nor does he welcome it in any way. but the longer the seconds stretch on, the more you realize how idiotic and awkward it is to hug someone you barely know - it worked for taehyung but that’s only because he knew you preferred action rather than words.

“i’m not gonna stop completely but i won’t go as often - it’s getting boring anyway.” you nonchalantly say - or at least try to sound like you’ve lost interest in the function on your own. you haven’t been to any since that incident with sowon, waiting out for the rumors to die down is a better choice.

the body in your arms is unresponsive as ever - you would think you’re hugging a dead body if not for the heat of his breath fanning your delicate skin. maybe he’s just too nice to push a lady away. just as you’re about retract your arms, a warm hand rests on your hip. his touch is soft and gentle - as if he’s handling a porcelain doll while you’d just dragged him down to you without even considering how uncomfortable the angle would be given his tall broad frame. 

his body vibrates when he lets out a short breath like a brief chuckle, “you’re very generous with your hugs.”

your brain short circuits when the man raises his head from your shoulder and rests his forehead on yours - it reminds you of how woman you are. even when he’s sitting he still hovers over you. his free hand cups your jaw, thumb lightly pressing on your lower lip. so this is what it felt like when your roles were switched - is he going to give you a false sense that he’ll kiss you the way you would him?

“may i?” he’s smiling when he repeats your own words - eyes trapping the ray of sunlight that pours over the wall-window like an illuminate waterfall. for the first time since you know him, you’re scared. not of what he will do but of what you want him to - but he won’t do.

your train of thoughts dissipates along with your worry the moment his lips touch yours. gentle. yet the hand pulling you into him is possessive. something in your stomach churns with butterflies.

you want to say you don’t know how you end up with your stomach pressed against his crotch or how his semi-hard arousal started rubbing into your abdomen. it’s supposed to be awkward but it isn’t and you know he’s refraining from addressing his aroused state to avoid making it uncomfortable for you - even though every time you shift and lean into him, you see his the gentle bob of his adam’s apple. it makes you want him even more. he leans into your touch as soon as you reach for him like moth drawn to flames.

“right.” he declares as if he’s been reminded of something when he comes in contact with one of the ridge of the rock on your middle finger. it’s your own engagement ring you ordered with seokjin’s. when the man spoke about getting you one, you’d held up your left hand and told him you already had one made. in fact, you never took it off since the day you put it on - which was the same day it came it.

understandably, you’re always wearing more than a ring on your hand - it’s easy to mix up between the ring from your personal collection or a ring of promise. especially when you didn’t tell him you got one made for yourself.

the hand on your cheek is warm as it brushes against your cheekbones, your rolls off his tongue like sweet honey, “what did i ever do to make you think i don’t love you?”

you blink once. you heard his words but your mind isn’t registering anything. but it seems your heart has seem to figure it out from the way it’s accelerating, you’re afraid seokjin might hear it. “wh-what?”

all of a sudden, you have this urge to pull the invisible blinds of his wall-window and hide from the peering rays of the sun. seokjin’s airy gaze. your fallen dress strap. the gentle protrusion in his pants. your own mussed up hair - you want to keep this moment all to yourself.

he pecks your forehead one last time. this lips curling into a smile - he knows you heard him. loud and clear and you have a feeling you’ll be hearing it at the most unpredictable moment from now on. so there’s no rush.

“where should we go for dinner?” 

x

seokjin knows they call him the doctor version of a mad scientist. he knows a plenty of many things. like how he’s more strict with the junior physicians under his care. but that’s only because if he treats them below their potential, they’ll end up being that.

but the part where suho jokingly told him that he was crazy for working on holidays - maybe he was.

he’d moved out as soon as he turned 18 and eventually cut off his parents. before, even if it was just for show, he still got to see them during those functions they held.

but by the time he graduated college and started interning as a doctor - he was already erasing part of his existence. and his parents didn’t seem to notice. it made it cutting them off effortless.

but then, loneliness - pure, unadulterated loneliness started to sink its claws into him. so he turned to work even more. built his life around it.

by the time he became a fellow, he had absolutely zero social life. the only human interaction he had was with his patients - but they come and go. sure they’re grateful for him - and since the private hospital he’s working at is frequented mostly by the richest, he’d received gifts like cars or gold bars from one of his elderly patients who were convinced they were going to die - until they woke up from a successful surgery done by seokjin himself. but they eventually forget him.

and of course, he returned those gifts. he’d be no different than his parents - than the people he wished not to see anymore after he left that world. but the one thing he thought he wanted - the one thing he thought would make him happy, started to burn him out. every birthday was just a reminder that he’s half the age his soul is. 

he’s worn and tired and losing sight of that man he told himself to be by a certain age.

that is, until you came along. at first, it was just courtesy that he listened to what you had to say - apparently you were the ceo. and quite literally, his boss. at first, he thought you were messing with him when you asked for his hand in marriage - no one just waltzes in and propose to someone they don’t know.

even those convenient marriages don’t go this way. but he’d accepted it anyway.

it has more to do with those eyes of yours than the chairman position. those eyes - they remind him so much of himself. the current him. except where his soul wanes, yours thirsts to thrive. like a dying cactus refusing to dry out.

you had thorns but picking them out wasn’t a problem - you’d been disconcerted at first but you’d quickly learn to use it to your advantage. telling him only the truth or nothing. since evasion and half-truths don’t work on him the way they would work on the people you probably surrounded yourself with. and he knew exactly what type of people they were.

eventually, you started telling him the blunt, honest truth. it threw him off a few times - like when you’d straight out told him that you knew who sowon was and still went for him.  and that time when you admitted that he was the second man to receive your proposal - the first being that brat, taehyung. and then, you’d straight out asked him about why he didn’t want you attending functions anymore instead of ignoring his request like his parents would. or flip out of shame for having your lie found out. you were forbearing but firm. sometimes, it felt like you were much older than him. 

but then you had a childish side to you too - it was food for his soul. every time he was with you, he felt like himself again. like that boy who applied for a job at the hospital with only his wits and his will backing him up. at first, he’d only saw that side of you in front of your most treasured people. your father. your mother. taehyung.

what you and taehyung have - seokjin will never come close to comprehend. a bond so strong, not even death could tear you apart. it became apparent too soon to seokjin that taehyung dominated parts of your life and he’ll only have a but a crevice of his presence in yours. your smile would always be a little brighter when you’re with the younger man. eyes always drifting away from him to taehyung.

and he was content with that but he thinks you’ve changed. or maybe it’s him that did. because you’re grinning at him now - like there’s something up your sleeves. and there is - his eyes widen at your brazenness. one minute he was admiring the way you lasted for hours in those heels that you just kicked off - you’d been wearing them starting from the ceremony to the reception and finally the after party but the next minute, you were grinning and pulling him with you down onto the velvet sheets. the your dress has ridden up to just below your knees in the process and seokjin’s caressing your exposed calf - he thinks you’re all the more delicate. your skin, too soft. he’s afraid he might bruise you.

“oh,” you speak into his mouth before pulling away without even a peck on his lips - but there’s a twinkle in your eyes when you pick up a small golden box that sat prettily on the night stand, “almost forgot. for you.”

“i didn’t get you a wedding gift.” he announces, pushing down the suspicion dominating his brain but how can he not pull out the ribbon to find out what you’ve prepared for him, when you’re looking at him like that? all grin and proud and saying something like you didn’t need one.

then his face falls and he’s looking at you deadpanned in the eye after noting the too familiar tablet of blue pills. but the frown doesn’t live long - he finds himself shaking his head. a smile wedging itself on  his own face, “viagra. really?”

“better safe than sorry, right?” it's not right context - usually, a condom would be involved where that sentenced is used. but you know from seokjin’s dazed stare that he doesn’t get it - but he chooses to admire your features instead.

it takes everything in you not to bury your face in his chest just because his stare is making you feel like a high school girl with a crush. his eyes don’t make you want to reel away from him and cover every scar and lies with a thick blanket anymore. perhaps it has something to do with the fact that there isn’t any that he hasn’t seen. both your flaws and your virtue - if he wanted to run away, there were plenty of chances for him to do so but he stayed and now - now, you’ll never let him go. hold him captive in your castle, smooth criminal. you lean and press a kiss on his lips - just to make him close his eyes.

when you pull away, his lips chases yours. just like moth drawn to flames. you can’t help but giggle - it’s cut short when his hand weaves itself into your hair and bring you down to him.

you barely notice the hand that wraps around your wrist before your back hits the soft mattress. his shoulders appear more broad now that he’s hunched over you like a beast who hasn’t had a drop of water since the drought. at times like these you’re reminded of how man he is and how woman you are. a fact you seem to forget because he’s been playing along with your little games like a well-behaved child.

“hey, no fair!” lips pursed, you cross your arms in a show of protest. but he chuckles that soothing chuckle and he’s standing on his knees while the frame of his belt glints in warning.

your heart skips a beat at the sight of his arousal that was begging to be released from the confinements of his cobalt blue pants. the sigh he breathes out when he pulls down the zipper, sends shivers down your spine.but disappointment makes your face fall when he leaves it like that instead of pushing his pants down along with it.

that’s okay. you tell yourself. we’re married now-

you reach out for him only to have a hand wrap around your wrist, your fingers hovering achingly close to the gentle protrusion in his black boxers but not really touching.

you crane your neck to look at him but when your eyes meet, your words die in your throat. the smile is gone and in its place, is a tilted smirk, “are you sure? once we start i might not be able to stop.”

it’s that question that gets your heart writhing and crying to be set free from the confinement of your rib cages.

“seokjin,” the name tastes delectably sinful tonight, “i’ve never wanted anyone to fuck me this badly.”

maybe it’s the vow you’re making on the absolutely zero occasion where you’ve been this rapt by a man. maybe it’s your out of character use of the curse - that’s just how much you want this. or maybe it’s both. either way, seokjin’s gripping handfuls of your dress and you wordlessly raise your hands up for him to pull your dress off you.

it’s the way his eyes travel down your body. hunger. madness. lust. they meld together in those darkened eyes of his yet you’ve never felt so safe. he dives in for a kiss. this time, it’s raw and passionate and has no intention to stop halfway - not after he made it clear that he couldn’t and not after you pleaded for him to take you.

your white cotton bra is first to go - you only wore it because the straps won’t contrast too much with the strap of your dress. initially, you were going to tease him a bit and disappear into the bathroom to change into the lacy black lingerie set you’d specifically ordered to be custom made by victoria’s secret. but with the way he’s kneading your breast in his palm and the way you’re clawing against his clothed chest like a ravenous creature - the lingerie can wait.

“take off your clothes.” in your head, it sounded more demanding - but it comes out breathy and begging. a part of you chide yourself for waving the white flag before the game even began but another part of you is tired of being the only one bare and naked.

there’s a godless gleam in his eyes the moment he heard your request and you should have known seokjin wouldn’t make it that easy for you. this is karma coming back to bite you in your butt naked state after all those times you spent teasing the man and him accepting it without any complaint. you thought he was just mature enough to get over it. it turns out he was just a beast laying in wait to claim what he deserves, “what’s the magic word?”

“please.” you answer in a heartbeat.

that same heart stops beating the second he shakes his head. no. wrong answer. “the other one - do you really think i didn’t notice? the way you tease me - the way you know i won’t do anything about it because i’m older, i have to be a bigger person?”

that’s when your pride comes crashing in like tidal wave. walk away, it says. you take back what you said about having nothing to hide from seokjin - there’s one. and you thought you’d keep it with you. let it be buried in your grave. but he knows - like he knows every layer of your existence. your every desire and compulsion. it’s disgraceful and mortifying, for you. but seokjin holds your gaze and wait, wait, wait - he doesn’t seem to share your thoughts - doesn’t look disgusted either.

“daddy.” the moment the word leaves your mouth, you feel liberated. freed. like a long overdue confession. the pleased look on seokjin’s face is everything and more. “daddy, please.”

“as you wish.” he’s your liberator. your freer. and he’s about to grant your one carnal desire.

his clothes hit the ground within less than a minute. you can’t help but gawk at his perfectly sculpted physique. it’s like gods personally descended the heavens and blessed him in his mother’s womb and stayed by his side up until now - only for him to scorn them right in this moment. your body bounces off the bed lightly when his fingers dig in your thigh, pulling you closer like a ragged doll. a small yelp escapes you.

your panties are the last to go. discarded somewhere on the floor along with yours and his wedding attire.

the first whimper escapes the moment he slips into you, but not fully. he lets you take him in, get used to his size and directs your hand to his lips before placing it on his shoulder. as if telling you, you can hurt him, claw him until his back is raw and bleeding.

you wouldn’t at first - opting to keep your hands fisted while you try your hardest to suppress every moan that erupts from your mouth with every stroke. but then he hits that sweet spot. your back arches forward and you think it’s that moment when your fingers break the delicate skin on his back - but you can’t remember. it’s a blur - the electricity coursing from your heart through your veins and curls your toes. the stars you see in the back of your mind and the way you tighten around him when the delectable sound of his moans brushes the shell of your ear as he holds you against him.

he almost crushed him underneath his weight when he pulls out of you. the traces of his arousal pressing in between your bodies as he forces himself up by propping himself on his forearms. his labored breath fans your face and he’s all you see.

there’s still a surplus of tingle in your lower abdomen how high he takes you - almost like cloud nine. and you’re slick with sweat and body fluid but there’s no where you’d rather be than here, in your husband’s arms.

five months ago, you approached him with the objective of gaining a husband to take the chairman position and maybe give you the grandchild that your mother’s been asking you for. you didn’t expect for anything more than what you bargained for. but the first time he told you how he felt - you still didn’t believe him. 

it was too surreal. and seokjin probably saw the tendrils of doubt every time he tells you how he feels - at the most sporadic moment. but he kept picking your thorns one by one like he could do this for a hundred years and more. you think i was that day when he found out about your past feelings for taehyung that he started. and he finally picked all of your prickly spikes - and now, he’s holding you like a child. head buried in between your breasts, muscled arms loosely hugging your waist. what a contrasting different to the man he was half an hour ago but so very seokjin of him.

the elated breath he lets out with his sigh is warm on your skin, “you know how to make an old man feel young.”

there he does it again. he’s been saying he’s old even though he’s only in his 30′s. at first you thought he was joking but over time - you think he truly believes he is. but when you agree with him-

“is your back okay? wouldn’t want your ancient bones breaking.” you pat his head sympathetically. 

almost as if you’ve pushed a that button with a flashy warning red on it, his fingers twine around your wrist and pull it away from his head. the bed shifts as he hovers over you with an aggrieved glint, “i’m sure there are greater things that little mouth of yours can do than express your concerns for my back, sweetheart.”

your heart skips a beat.

x

epilogue.

you love being married.

not because you can strut to seokjin’s office and have everyone know you have every right to be there. nor because the board can’t really say anything since seokjin fits every characteristics of a chairman either. but because-

“we’ve been at it like rabbits,” seokjin shoulder line jolts slightly when your arms gently wrap around him from behind but there’s a sort of mirth laced in his voice, “you’re still not tired?”

“what ever do you mean, dear husband?” your voice is sweet but not entirely innocent.

sure, you did it an hour ago and you’re both supposed to get ready for bed but when you stepped out of the bathroom and find the bed empty, you had to wander outside. you know he’d be in the living room reviewing past years’ reports in his preparation to take on your dad’s position. he could just step up first and get familiar with his job along the way - but it wouldn’t have been very seokjin to enter the battlefield without polishing his armor.

he smells like peppermint and lavender. donning a plain white shirt and grey sweats - it’s the second most dressed down you’ve ever seen him in compared to the white-collars you’re so used to seeing him in. the first, being when he’s in bed, of course.

“okay, well, i’m going to bed first.” with a peck on his cheek, you bid him a good night.

but it’s not in your nature to give up without a fight - or rather, without sauntering in front him in your pastel pink camisole. you put on the a black and gold corset on your first monthivasery - it was just an excuse for you to try on the lingerie and it paid off. but there’s just something about camisoles - floral or plain pastels are what gets him prancing on you like a hungry beast. it looks like you’re not the only one with a fetish.

the cleaner comes in every twice a week and you’re not here enough to mess up the place except the master bedroom - like seokjin said, you have been going at it like rabbits. still, you bend down, making sure your ass is perked a little higher as you rearrange the picture frames on the rack under the tv.

a tune of your favorite song vibrates against your throat for thirty-six seconds before you straighten your back and begin to walk towards the bedroom. but something you caught in your periphery halts your steps, “did you just check out my ass then bite your lip? ‘cause if you did we’re having sex. right now.”

that seems to catch him off guard - you’ve been finding new and creative ways to get fucked. some worked. and by worked, you mean it had you moaning and writhing as he took you raw. some failed. meaning he had relented mainly because you were asking and he wanted to please you - at times like those, he was the one lying down, watching you ride him but halfway through, he’d pulled you down and started fucking you missionary because ‘you were good darling, but watching you makes me want to personally fuck you senseless. you can ride me next time, i promise.’

either way, your work life is superb and your sex life is out of this world. especially with a husband like seokjin. guess that dry spell has finally lifted and unleashed the hungry beast in him.

seokjin sighs, eyebrows coming together in a troubled frown but the lump in his pants say otherwise. “when you’re sore and need me to walk you to your office tomorrow, remember you asked for this.”

something in the pit of your stomach churns. your heart races with adrenaline as he takes two steps with those long legs of his and close the distance. a yelp escapes your lips, not expecting him to hoist you over his shoulder like you weight nothing and landing a smack on your ass like he’s reprimanding you.

“seokjin! put me down, i’m heavy!” you cry out, smacking his back in protest. when you wanted him to take you, this wasn’t exactly what you had in mind - it’d be a completely, perfect lie if you say you weren’t dripping with excitement.

“this way’s faster than your tiny little legs, darling.” you can hear the smirk in his voice before he kisses the exposed skin on your hip.

x

note: and that’s it. but it’s not over yet! there might be drabbles coming up on our fav couple’s adventure as they try to get preggo lmaooo also i’ll be doing a ‘story time’ where i talk about the background of this fic - what inspired me to write it, why i titled it like the way i did and i’d like to dissect and oc and tae’s relationship and so much more. send me an ask if you have something in particular you want me to address from the fic!

if you like this fic feel free to check out namjoon’s version called good guys finish last. i’m also planning to turn this au into a series for every member. taehyung or yoongi will be next!