#hospital au | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mingigoo · 2 months

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

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

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

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

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

🩺 word count ⇢ 10.3k

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

masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She reminded you of yourself.

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

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

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

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

It was now a waiting game.

—

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

“Miss y/n?” He asked.

“Yes?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I uh….he works late?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You blinked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wait,” he breathed, voice raspy.

You froze.

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was probably just the pain.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

Silence enveloped you as you checked his pulse ox.

“Why’d you do that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks,” he muttered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” he asked.

“What?” you repeated, confused.

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

“Like what?” you frowned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

“Who?” you mumbled without looking up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

“I don't know what you mean.”

You walked faster.

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

You stopped suddenly. “Why did I what?”

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

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

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

“Is that really any of your business?”

“Just a little—”

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

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

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

You blinked. “Do we?”

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

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

It was quiet before the doors closed.

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

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

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

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

“That’s something to think about.”

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He tilted his head. “Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You paused, frozen, inches away from his lips.

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

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

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

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

What kind of damn question is that?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The belt slowly slipped off of him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mhm,” you swallowed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then you realized.

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

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

“If you comfortable with that.”

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He blinked, eyes wide. “Huh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You blinked slowly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don't go,” he breathed hazily.

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

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

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

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

You breathed out, “No.”

He grinned, cheshire-like. “Good.”

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

You needed air. God, this bathroom was stuffy.

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

But he had other plans. More impulsive plans.

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

So you gave up on your act.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” you hummed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’ll look after each other.

#ateez #ateez smut #ateez fanfic #ateez angst #ateez hongjoong #kim hongjoong #hongjoong fic #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong smut #hospital au #enemies to lovers

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chrollohearttags · 2 months

Text

TRACK 01 ❥ RIDE • J. KIRSCHTEIN

your love with jean didn’t start out with perfect beginnings but he’ll make certain it has the story book ending.

❥ content + warnings: paramedic!jean, patient liaison reader (black coded), mentions of illness, pain, etc, very brief mention of infidelity, Jean being a complete lover boy, he has a heavy country/creole accent (he speaks French once or twice) hotel sex, alcohol use, fingering, foot play, bondage, dirty talk, squirting, blindfold, wax play, pet names (my love, my girl, sweetheart) daddy kink + heavy dom, nipple play, breeding/pregnancy, mating press

word count: 6.2K

“Take off those heels, lay on my bed…whisper dirty secrets while I’m pulling on your hair..”

₀․₀₀◦──────────────────────────₃․₁₅

there were so many words that could be used to describe the enigma of a man that was Jean Kirschtein. For the longest, he was a mystery to you..not being able to take him one way or the other. You couldn’t quite figure him out or really see him for who he truly was. And just when you’d thought you had him all figured out; pegged as one thing, he swayed your mind in the opposite direction. Granted, that was before you knew him beyond being your ex’s homeboy. Keeping yourself at arm’s bay from any man that wasn’t him as to not make him jealous. Of course, that was prior to learning that it wasn’t Jean or anyone else you had to worry about. It was him. It was only a year and a half ago that you learned the heartbreaking news of your ex’s infidelity and by the mouth of none other than Jean himself. It came as such a shock to you that as he spoke, you found yourself almost collapsing onto the pavement but he quickly caught you. You’d never felt so humiliated and betrayed before in your life. The weight of it was almost too much for you to bare..that was until Jean caught you within his grasp and never let go! He assured you that Connie or no other man would ever harm you again as long as he was around. A promise he kept true to..even severing ties with his best friend altogether. It was easy by no means and you felt guilty for being the reason their friendship ended but the only thing you were met with was laughter and a very simple statement in response:

“Any man that could hurt a beautiful woman like you could never be my friend.”

that wasn’t all though..as Jean explained, the two of them began falling out over his constant womanizing and cheating. Granted, he was no saint himself and the two of them were no strangers to having multiple ladies in their lives or even having threesomes with them. But all of that changed when Connie got with you…or so he claimed! Turns out, he only amped up his infidelity through the roof and left you in the dark about all of it. Jean, although a bit of a ladies man himself, couldn’t sit idly by and allow you to be harmed by his actions. But honestly, none of that mattered now. Hell, it all seemed like a far off past that you had but repressed from your memory. Especially when Jean had all but spent this last year and some change not only atoning for Connie’s mistakes but treating you like the absolute goddess you were. The two of you were both employed by the same hospital; you worked as a patient liaison who saw to the non medical needs of the patients. Ensuring that they knew how much they were being billed and offering assistance if it were needed, making certain that their rooms were up to par, even helping out with diet plans..if someone were vegetarian or pescetarian, you’d relay the message to the kitchen staff and make sure they’d have those options for them. It was equally as important as their medical care and it was a job you did exceptionally well. It most certainly took a special person! Which Jean appreciated and respected when he watched you work..always so kind and empathetic. It was no wonder why he felt the innate sense to spoil you in return.

he himself worked as an EMT. Transporting patients to and from the hospital, dealing with high stress situations and quite frankly, enjoying every bit of the adrenaline rush that ensued. Sometimes, it was so intense, he questioned if he were meant to pursue this. But you were his safe haven and once he was with you, he felt as if he could conquer the world!

however, just for the evening…you were setting aside your workplace concerns and stories to be solely devoted to one another. It was a rather special occasion, for many reasons. One being Valentine's Day. And the other? The six month anniversary since you guys began seeing one another officially. When he asked you out after a late night shift and you found yourselves at one of your favorite spots to eat. He handed you a small gift and asked properly; despite hooking up several times prior. Stating that he knew it wasn’t ideal by any stretch of the imagination, but he just couldn’t wait to make you his. It was so thoughtful, you nearly burst into tears right there. Fast forward and life only got better! You had never experienced love the way you had with Jean..endless affection, fancy dates when permitted, small gestures to brighten your day and of course, sex on an entirely different level! This man knew your body like the back of his hand and he always knew the right things to do to make you tick and turn you on. Still, he’d always have his reservations. He wanted to prove that you were worth far more than late night rendezvouses and backseat hookups. He wanted to give you the absolute world on a platter. A goal he had in mind as he made his way to your place; a small house you shared with an older sister and nephew. He pulled that blacked out two seater up to the curb of your driveway..hopping out to open the passenger door just as you made your appearance!

“Well..my my..and they say goddesses don’t walk this earth. I’d hafta’ disagree..not when my baby exists.”

your face completely flushed in a sheath of warmth and your stomach fluttered with butterflies as you flashed that pearly smile and strutted closer. He wasn’t exaggerating because to say you looked divine, wouldn’t be an understatement! Face done up in the most beautiful shimmers and red lipstick that complimented that beautiful dark skin tone, those normally tight curls styled into an updo and gleaming jewelry he had brought dangled from your neck and ears. Dressed in a thigh length red dress with a slit on the right side, tall, strappy heels that wrapped around your calves and a handbag to match. However, you wouldn’t be opening that unless it were to touch up your makeup. Because he had plans that involved spoiling you rotten in more ways than one..and best believe he wasn’t empty handed when getting out to greet you either. No, he was brandishing what seemed to be the largest bouquet of roses he could find!

“You’re way too sweet, baby..thank you!”

“No such thing..here, these are for you, my love. Happy Valentines..and anniversary.”

delicately lacing your cheek with a peck..accepting them, you’d thank him once more and right there, in return..shove your tongue between his lips whilst caressing his cheek. Jean would feel the rush of ecstasy that came with your touch rush his veins. Each kiss, hug and caress took his breath away. Needless to say, dinner was merely the appetizer to the main course to which his pallet desired!..

“Ready to hit the town, my lady?” Garnering quite the adorable giggle from you. He was such a charmer..constantly wooing you despite the relationship nearing a year old.

“Well of course, sir. Lead the way.” you’d return his sentiment, grinning from ear to ear. With that, he’d make haste in opening the door and allowing you to take your seat in the passenger’s side, easing you in. And afterwards, he’d make his own way back to the drivers to start up the ignition. Tonight was sure to be one that would forever be embedded into your memory and heart for many years to come..

page break and time skip

“Jean Rene Kirschtein, I don’t know what I’m going to do with you..dammit, and I said I wasn’t going to cry tonight.”

the only response that you could muster at the moment as you cupped a hand across your mouth, feigning tears and hysterics as you glared down at the crushed velvet box, seated in your lap. Inside, resided a sparkling ring..glistening with princess cut diamonds and a twenty four karat silver band. It was absolutely gorgeous and not to mention..all yours. A piece of jewelry that set him back about nine hundred or so dollars but it was fitting for a promise ring. Not to mention all the other countless gifts he had bestowed upon you tonight. Once he dropped to that knee, there would be no expense spared. He’d grasp your hand as he reached across the table and intertwined your fingers. After he slipped it on for you.

“Well, you could start by drying those pretty eyes of yers’…no need to cry, baby. You deserve this and so much more..” the words permeated your ears and heart like arrows shit directly from Cupid himself. Currently, the two of you were at the rooftop restaurant stationed at the Blaise Hotel, located on the opposite side of town and near the outskirts. It was so lavish yet so intimate at the same time…dim blue illumination outlined the cursive sign hung atop the building. Marble and gold embellished the lobby and everything was so beautiful. It was rather apparent that Jean had spared no expenses when it came to making this night as special as possible. To say you were grateful would be an understatement. “Listen..I know that you and I didn’t exactly start this thing off right and hell, maybe in another life, ya’ would’ve been mine in the first place. But (y/n), baby. I promise I’ll do everything I can to make sure that I’ll be your last. One day, I wanna replace this with the real thing. I wanna marry ya’, have some babies..grow old together. The only thing I want is to spend the rest of my life making you happy. I love you.”

and you knew that he meant every single word that left his mouth. Unlike your ex, there was no doubt that you were his one and only. And you were about to see the great lengths he was willing to go to just to prove that!

“I love you more, Jean..thank you, for making this past year or so, the best I’ve ever had. You pulled me out of a dark place when everyone else was willing to let me sit there..you did things for me that you didn’t have to and I’m forever grateful. I don’t know what I did to deserve to be this happy but…I hope it never ends.” Ending your speech by hoisting your glass, in hopes of not becoming emotional once more. The two of you would toast and take generous swigs of that red Cabernet. Sweet yet strong and the perfect beverage for an occasion like this. “Well..it’s as my granny used ta’ say..’ Même toutes les étoiles du ciel ne pourraient pas briller aussi fort que toi, ma bien-aimée.” Meaning that you shined brighter than any star in the sky and he wanted to spend all night showing you just how special you were to him. Because unbeknownst, there was a second portion to your surprise. One that would undoubtedly embed this night in your mind for a very long time.

“Say, why don’t we get outta here and head upstairs? I gotta lil’ something for you.” Whilst you were finishing up the remnants of your wine, Jean stood from his seat; righter leaving both the bill and hefty tip inside of a black leather booklet. There was no need for you to concern yourself with it or the price inside. This was your night..to be celebrated, to be spoiled and to be loved properly. Something he planned to do in more ways than one. Grasping your hand and the cusp of your arm with the gentlest touch, he’d help you from your seat and pushed it back in. The signs of a true southern gentleman if you’d ever seen one. You knew that his folks had raised him right in the way he carried himself. Although you’d seen Jean act the fool as any twenty something year old boy would, he was always so polite and respectful. Always holding doors, never making you lift a finger to do anything and of course, charmed you to no end. “A lil’ something, huh? Something tells me you went all out..again!” Teasing him as the two of you exited the rooftop to take an elevator down to your suite. Hand in hand with your free one occasionally raising up to stroke his chest. As his own, cradled your waist..holding you close.

“Now now, sweetheart…a man never reveals his secrets. You just relax and let me worry about everything.”

honestly, there was no attesting Jean once he got something set in his head. He was stubborn but there was never a moment where he didn’t see something through to fruition. He also had the habit of sparing no expense to take care of someone else. Maybe that’s what made him such a great first responder..and lover. He was a dominant man. Not the possessive or overbearing type but rather the kind to step up to the plate and handle business without so much as a second thought. Which is why you felt so safe and secure around him..for once, it felt nice to be soft..vulnerable. To let your guard down and let someone else take the lead. So with that, accepting his answer, you’d await patiently as the elevator descended and the down arrow illuminated. Finally, it would come to a halt on the fourth floor..where Jean stepped out first to offer up his hand so he could guide you along. Your heels clicked briefly against the tile flooring before it quickly transitioned to carpet. The hall was decorated with vibrant white and blue paints, vivid imagery plastered onto paintings and sleek, modern lighting illuminated the path to the rooms stationed on the right side. Although Jean’s chivalry seemed to be never ending, there was another reason as to why he was so adamant of stepping ahead of you.

“Before we go inside…there’s one more thing I have for ya..turn around.”

414. The room number in which you two would be residing for the evening..although, you were certain not much sleeping would be taking place. You were stopped in your tracks right by the door as he grasped your hand. Even so, you’d do as your man instructed and spin until your back was facing him. It was then that he’d instruct you to step forward and fully devoting your trust in him, you knew he’d guide you in the right direction. With those strong hands cradling your waist, you’d step forward until you heard the door close behind you. A couple more steps and you could hear soft music playing..until you felt your calves graze what seemed to be a soft cushion of sorts.

“Take a seat, sweetheart..I’m right here.” That deep drawl ringing out in your ear and sending shivers tingling up your spine. Upon bending down to let your backside hit the bed, you’d await his next command. Patently and completely devoted to him. You trusted Jean, more than anyone. So you’d do exactly as he instructed. With your hands resting on your thighs, (y/n) sat straight upright as you felt his fingertips grazing your shoulder blades. You could feel his breath against your neck and his stubble just barely grazing your skin.. “..you’re so beautiful, baby. Ya’ know that? God, I feel like I don’t ever get to say it enough.” His voice dropped to a low vibrato as he continued caressing you. Soaking you in, drinking in your scent and just enjoying being in your presence. Taking his sweet time to fill your head with all of those beautiful words..affirming the things he felt about you on a daily basis. Whilst he did so, Jean’s lips trailed further south. Going from your neck to your shoulders..where he removed the straps of your dress and slid them down gently. His hands trailed the sides of your body and every square inch where he removed an article of clothing, he replaced it with subtle pecks. You couldn’t see a thing but you could feel it all..the warmth of his breath against your flesh, your ensemble slowly slipping away from you and his hands roaming around your torso. Including those supple breasts. Your nipples had begun to stiffen up as he toiled with them between his fingertips. You’d raise your hand to caress his head as it rested on your shoulder. Whilst toying with your newly exposed tits, Jean continued nipping at your ear and rattling off in it. Only this time, his words were far more risqué than before!..

“..ya’ know..I planned this night out in my head several times. I thought of all the ways I wanted to make love to you. How I’d be all gentle and sweet with ya’..but I gotta be honest, sweetheart…”

it was in the midst of his speech did you feel that same hand snake down between your legs and part them with a single pop to your thighs. His movements switched from delicate to a slightly bit rough in only a matter of seconds! He couldn’t hold back any longer..he needed you. He craved you..and desperately!

“..I just wanna fuck the shit out of you. I know that’s not all sweet and romantic. But I can’t help it..I just wanna give you what you deserve. The type of dick you should’ve been getting a long time ago, baby.” Whilst his words seeped to your head, your core was feeling the effects as well. With that center exposed as he tugged your thong to the side, it was no secret that you were already leaking from the sound of his voice and teasing alone. That was exactly where he wanted you! Vulnerable, soft..melting within his grasp. “..Jeannn…” “shh, shhh it’s okay..” He didn’t want you to do a thing. So much so, it wasn’t long before you felt your wrists being bound together in front of you as well. Right now, you were completely under his control and you could bet, that trust you placed in him wasn’t something he was going to take lightly or abuse. He would spend every waking second he had within this room pleasing you to the utmost of his ability.

“..god, those titties are so pretty, sweetheart. I just wanna suck on those nipples, get them hard.” Declaring as he gently grabbed your already sensitive buds and squeezed. He could sense that your body was already coming undone and he hadn’t even begun to toy with you yet! But alas, you had all night and you could fall apart as many times as you needed to..he’d be right there to put you back together! “And this pussy…fuck, it’s so wet for me already…” it was blatantly obvious that he was in the mood to play the long game. To spend hours if needed to build you up to your breaking point, only because he knew the release would be that much sweeter. “Yer’ gonna feel so good, I just know it..” In a sheer moment of haste, your lover would tear that dress from your body as if it were nothing more than a slip of paper. Soon, every other article of clothing would follow suit shortly after and Jean was quick to make his next move. Pulling you back towards his chest; still clothed with the black button down, he’d snake that tattooed arm down the center of your torso. Where he’d revel in toying with your slit. Spreading those puffy lips apart with his index and middle fingers. The sensation of cool air immediately made contact with that dripping warmth and needless to say, you were shivering instantly. Whimpering and huffing as he massaged that clit. Rubbing yourself against those finger pads and grinding on it. Pushing up and slowly gliding back down when he added a single finger. With just that one digit alone, you began writhing and begging him for more but it wasn’t time..you weren’t ready. “Baby, you can barely even take my finger right now…look at how she’s squeezing me.” Chuckling as he watched your movements. You had a habit of being restless..once you became aroused, nothing could tame that salacious appetite except the most intense, passionate sex that he could offer. “I knowww, but pleaseee—“ “..if you know then let me take care of you. Cut it out.” cooing into your ear and reaffirming his point with a gentle hand around your throat. “So are ya’ gonna relax and lemme handle it, sweetheart? Tell me..” and with that subtle dominance, what other choice did you have? That unwavering resolve of his wore you down rather quickly. “Yes, daddy..please take care of me..” “..that’s my pretty girl..” But alas, the foreplay and teasing was far from finished! Keeping you reigned to his chest, Jean continued to work that little cunt over with calculated touches and subtle pushes. Pressing into that sensitive core..his knuckles would become coated in that sticky sex, hoping to drum up more as he persisted. For now, he was ready to move on to his next task on the docket! His movements would come to a halt and suddenly you’d find yourself spasming on nothing more than air. It left you with a yearning..a longing for more. As you awaited his next move, he’d prompt you to open your mouth before placing those fingers between your lips and allowing you to not only clean them off but pacify those pathetic whimpers. “Taste yourself..there ya’ go. So fucking sweet..” You were still shielded from all the surroundings, your eyes covered by that satin cloth. Drool would seep from (y/n)’s jaws and shallow breaths escaped your throat. It was apparent that you were close but prolonging that orgasm would only make the moment that much better. For now, he had but one simple command:

“Hands in front of ya’, sweetheart.” The sharp tone in his voice causes a tingle to trickle down your spine. But naturally, you complied..submitting yourself to him entirely. Once you place your arms to your stomach, you’d find your wrists bound and tightly secured. You were completely at his will and before he proceeded, he’d reposition you to the mattress, placing you flat on your back..as you laid there, sprawled out and completely exposed, the gentle, familiar brush of his fingertips grazed your cheek yet again. Your arms, now outstretched and lying dormant above your head. You had no way of telling what it was that your boyfriend was planning..no sense of your surroundings but that was the entire point. He wanted complete autonomy over you..ensuring that you could trust him and for the next thing he had planned, he wanted you to be fully submissive to him.

“M’ gonna need you to hold still f’r me. Okay, sweetheart? You’re gonna feel a lil’ something dripping..and I want you to let me know if it hurts. You trust me..right?” without a shadow of a doubt, the answer was clear but he wanted to hear you say it. He needed that explicit consent that you wanted this just as badly. Just above your swollen, erect nipples, something hovered about you. It felt warm..which led you to one conclusion:

“Yes..please. Do it.”

and with that, he’d proceed! Brandishing in his hand was an already illuminated candle..one of which was already flickering upon your arrival to the room, as he had requested. This one was beginning to melt but to help speed up the process, Jean retrieved a lighter from his pocket. The same one he used to ignite his cigarettes and blunts on very rare occasions. A sterling silver one with his initials engraved..sparking the flame, the sandy blonde took both items and dangled them only inches from your body. Your frame wiggled around on the bed in anticipation; your chest heaving but breath shallow…you could sense what was coming and for a brief moment, the room fell silent. That’s when it happened…

plop!

the single sound of a wax droplet making contact with your flesh. Your reaction followed a split second later as you sucked your teeth and whimpered. He had to make certain that it wasn’t painful to you. But all reservations subsided when underneath the flicker of that flame, he’d watch that gorgeous smile appear and suddenly, he was at ease and confident that he could keep going! “How’d it feel, mama? That didn’t hurt, did it?” Cooing with a swipe of his thumb across your cheek as he awaited your response. “Y-yeah..but it felt so good! Please…more.” And he didn’t hesitate! Jean continued whittling down that candle with his flames. Soon, the beads multiplied as they fell and before long, your gorgeous dark complexion was marked with cream colored, hardened splatters of wax. Akin to a portrait, you were like a masterpiece..one he wanted to frame and keep forever. Your tits gently swaying as you squirmed around and the sounds of your adorable giggles, along with the lilt in your voice was satisfying enough for your boyfriend. Those beautiful nipples protruding and hardened beyond belief, only caused you to squirm as he grazed them. “That feel good, my love?” “Yes! So good..thank you!” That single show of gratitude made the tent in his pants grow larger..as well as his desire for you! He was fighting the urge to strip down and fuck you senseless right now but he was almost where he wanted you. Where he needed you..

“Good..that’s all I wanna hear..”

just then, Jean would kneel into the mattress to propel himself up. Only after he set aside the candle and lighter, extinguishing both. Where he’d begin to undress. Peeling off his clothing layer by layer. You’d hear the sound of that designer belt buckle clinking as he unfastened it. Tossing it to the floor first and his pants followed suit. Next was his button down he undone. His shoes and everything until he was sporting nothing but that gold Rolex and rings that looked so aesthetically pleasing as it contrasted your skin. Lying a flat palm on your thigh when he crawled back up and parted them. He had been waiting for this moment. Biding his time in anticipation for what was to come..he’d often spend his shifts thinking about you. Trying to feign off his thoughts and desires because he knew he’d have you soon enough. There were so many things he wanted to do with you. On one hand, slow, sensual lovemaking underneath the candles…feeding you gentle strokes. And on the other hand? Pounding you into this mattress until you made a mess of him! Squirting and leaking all over this bed until you convulse of one too many powerful orgasms..

“So tell me, sweetheart? What is it that you want now? Just looking at ya’…I can tell you’re hungry for more. You’re leaking, baby..” teasing as he brushed over that mound and only a mere inch away from that clit. He’d resort to spreading you open again just for his own pleasure. Whispering and murmuring as he sucked his teeth in awe of the sight. He couldn’t believe it..how silky and wet you were.. “..goddamn..look at that. So beautiful..would look even better with me inside of you. Don’t ya’ agree, baby?” Prompting you to lick your lips and nod profusely. You were so needy, you were practically rutting yourself on thin air..seeing as how he refused to directly touch it. Afraid it’d send you flying over the edge if he did. He needed that reaction strictly for himself. He wanted to see you twitching, squirming and writhing all on his cock. “Yeah..fuck..I do..” those pathetic little whines only fueling him more. So much so, as he kept you speaking, he’d coil the base of his shaft and stroke upward as he awaited his answers. “Then convince me, baby. Tell me where ya’ want daddy to put it. Where you need me right now. C’mon, talk to me..”

and you spared no details! You’d quickly plead for him to spread you open and fill you full of his cock. To stretch you out and make you conform to his shape. What couldn’t fit, he better make you take it..that nut? He knew exactly where you wanted it. You wanted him to completely wreck you tonight!

“So that’s how it is? That’s what you feel?” “Yes, baby!..come fuck this pussy, please..” it was obvious that you were becoming anxious and Jean was aching so badly from his own edging that if he didn’t get inside of something soon, he was going to explode. So with one forceful tug, he’d bridge the gap of space between your bodies before placing a leg on your shoulder and folding you back.

“Of course, pretty girl. Whatever you want..this is your dick after all.” Chuckling with a smile on his face, it didn’t take long before his tip was brushing against your slit and casually rubbing on that bud to further stimulate you. “So take it..” suddenly, that subtle teasing turned into full blown penetration! You’d find yourself stuffed to the brim and the gasp and expletives that simultaneously left both of your mouths signified just how good it felt. His thick length throbbing inside of your heat and that tight cunt clutching him upon entry. As if you two were designed for one another. “F-fuck..gonna start moving, baby..you ready?” He didn’t have to see your eyes to know your reaction..it was written all over your facial and body language. You’d give him the go ahead and seconds later, Jean would grasp your waist to keep you steady as he began thrusting up into you. Sounds of smacking skin along with faint moans arose and filled the air. He had to pace himself..go far slower than he would like to if he were going to last any amount of time. Long, deep, well paced strokes were the best move right now. And did he make certain you felt each one!

“G’ahh..so tight, baby..this pussy’s squeezing me..” tossing his head back on his shoulders, Jean would persist and push through the tight bundle of nerves..the sensation constricting his shaft and making him even more so vulnerable than before. He’d consistently dote on you, telling you how pretty you were taking his dick..how good you were opening for him and how he couldn’t wait to fill you up. Saying everything you needed to hear..cream began to pool around the rim of your opening; a result of the slow repetition of his cock slamming into you. Meanwhile, your legs and ankles rested on his broad shoulders. They’d tremble within his grasp as he laced them with sensual kisses. “You have any idea how good you make me feel, my love? How wet you are right now…I just wanna fill you up..I swear. Hell, I think you’d look so beautiful with my baby inside of ya’…” the low vibrato and his accent making the statement even sexier when he uttered it. The response was you twitching around him but not out of pain..you loved the idea. Being stuffed full of his seed, even if you weren’t exactly ready for the latter yet!

“Mmmph...I love when you nut in this pussy.” Declaring with your lips only inches apart. Eventually bridging the gap with soft, sensual pecks. Tongues swirling around and clashing with one another as strings of saliva formed between them. “Yeah? That’s what you want?” “Yes, baby. Keep fucking me. Make me take that dick!” Steadfast in your words, you’d claw at the pillows behind you..the only thing within your confined grasp as his movements progressed. He’d begin to speed up that dormant pace and get deeper into your core. It would seem that your lecherous words had pushed him to the next level..driving him to repeatedly stab at your sensitive core with deep, sharp, unrelenting thrusts. On top of rolling his fingers against your clit, drumming up more of that slick. The moment was perfect..the way your round tits swayed with each thrust, your skin riddled with wax and sweat, your legs coiling his waist..the only thing missing were your nails clawing into his back and marking him up. “J-Jeann…mm, gonna cum! Fuck!..” So he’d make the decision to untie your wrists and lift that blindfold. He needed to see your pretty face whilst he was in it. All of those authentic reactions..

“Then come, baby!..and look me in the eye when you do it.” Prompting you to release that shower of sweet rain all over him and while he was still buried to your hilt nonetheless. Only pushing him back when you could no longer keep him inside, and he’d retract to tap that tip against your slit. “I love when you squirt on this dick..feels so fucking good.” But your boyfriend wasn’t letting up..he was still vying for his own orgasm. Desperate and utterly desiring to fill you full of his seed. Repositioning once more, Jean hovered over your frame and pinned all your limbs back in one fell swoop. He couldn’t pretend to be composed any longer and that suave romantic had shifted to a salacious deviant..hungry to claim your womb for his own. That much apparent by his brutal thrusting and incessant growls as he took full dominion over you. Your feet and wrists were once again restrained as to avoid any attempts to stop him. But he knew you were equally aching for it..aching to be bred and stuffed full, so he’d persist. Spouting off lewd remarks and sloppy kisses to quell you. The bed jolted around with the headboard smacking the wall. Your bodies entangled as he folded you into that mating press. “You're gonna take it f’r me, sweetheart?! Take all this nut..it’s all yours..just tell me where you want me to put it, right now.” Through gritted teeth, he’d plead and try to maintain the last semblance of dominance he harbored because just as his resolve was fading, his stamina was slipping as well. Those thrusts became sporadic in rhythm and he was faltering in his speed. That once deep voice was a sending in pitch and Jean was on the brink of collapse as he held out for a few more strokes. “Gah! Fuck..so tight, I’m coming, baby!—“ “Nut in me, please..give it to me!” And with that command, he no longer felt the need to restrain himself. Coming to a complete halt, you’d watch those deep set eyes become wider and his body stiffen up. He was frozen in place but that long rope of warm semen spilled into your womb. He’d release your hands and you’d be quick to quell him with a palm to the face, thanking him for it and telling him how amazing it felt.

“I need a kiss, c’mere..”

“Of course…”

finally back into reality and consciousness, you’d join together one more time for a searing, passionate peck that solidified your love. Right here in this room, he made certain that you knew you were his forever and always. Regardless of your pasts, who may have been in it before or otherwise. What mattered most was the here and now.

“I’m starting to think I should’ve skipped the promise ring. I wanna marry you right now.” Prompting you to chuckle into your hand before stringing a finger down his chest. “Well that’s quite the jump.” But rest assured, you’d be right here until the actual day came along. Proposal or not, you knew who you wanted to spend the rest of forever with so for the time being, you could revel in his presence and never grow tired. You could definitely get used to it.

“I love you, Jean..” “I love ya’ more, sweetheart.”

and he’d spend all night of the rest of his life proving so.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

@honeybleed @spaceforher @dezibou @nanamiscunt @sweethoneycream

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dogsstew · 8 months

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Here’s Billy Loomis’ scar sheet so he can match with Stu

💉

I forgot to add, Billy doesn’t wear his eye as much (as he should really) because he hates the way it looks. I think he’d hate the way it feels because it never fits right. His eye is permanently half/completely closed anyways. Stu tries to take it and swap both of theirs out. (It doesn’t fit but he tries.)

(And the nurses get mad that Stu keeps touching it and fucking with Billys shit.)

(Billy finds it hilarious, but he won’t say anything.)

#billy loomis #scream 1996 #scream #stuilly #survivor au #hospital au #brain damage core #he’s being really dramatic #and he hates it here #let him out into society again #please #scream 1996 fanart

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fauvester · 3 months

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svsss demons hospital au scrub choices. SHL is a figs girlie (girl you cannot wear outside figs to the OR, sorry) LBH is kind of a jaanuu guy but occasionally gets mandelas for the colors. MBJ is an exclusively inpatient proceduralist so he only ever wears the cheap hospital provided scrubs that his tits never fit into properly

#baby attending plastics SHL getting a page like GIRL WHY IS THIS BOX MAKING THAT NOISE #lbh: you were an intern like 2 years ago you KNOW what a pager is #mbj is in 3 different IR scheduling groupchats AND is trying to coordinate ordering lunch with SQH #svs3 #take your blorbo to work day..#hospital au #theyre all surgeons of one flavor or another. SHL does general plastics LBH is neurosurg MBJ is IR #svsss

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droptheprompt · 1 year

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Comfort Prompts

"It's alright, just breathe, okay?"

"You look like you need a hug."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"I'm here if you want to talk."

"You know you can tell me anything, right? And I will listen."

"Shh, please don't cry."

"C-can you... hold me for a while?" "Of course."

"It's going to get better, you'll see."

"I know it doesn't look like it now, but the pain will pass."

"It's fine, shout if you need. Just let it all out."

"I'm not going anywhere. Now, or ever."

"You are not alone in this."

#otp #otp prompts #imagine your otp #imagine your ship #fanfic prompts #writing prompts #writing inspiration #otp dialogue #dialogue promtps #fanfic inspiration #comfort prompts #hurt/comfort #fluff prompts #angst prompts #sickfic #hospital au #injury prompts #caretaker prompts #droptheprompt

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youneedsomeprompts · 1 year

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~ HOSPITAL / ER ROOM AU ~ WRITING PROMPTS

requested by: anonymous

Feel free to use and reblog!

OTP meets accidentally at the hospital because they both accompanied someone else there

A has to stay in the hospital & doesn't want B to leave because they're scared

"It's gonna be alright. I'm sure the doctor will be here in a minute."

waking up in a hospital bed & not knowing how they got there

"Hey, look at me! Stay with me! No, no, don't close your eyes!"

B is panicking much more than A who got committed to the hospital

"It doesn't look too bad, right?"

B is trying to distract A when they need to get an IV because A hates needles

"Do you hear me?"

A, who actually works at the hospital, turns out to be a lousy patient

"Deep breathing."

B is getting mad waiting in the hallway and imagining countless scenarios of what might be wrong with A

"I told you, you need to take more care of yourself."

B wants to be there for A but they can't see blood

"Is it broken?"

B offers to bring A some stuff if they have to stay overnight

"Your partner can stay if you like." "Oh, they're not... actually, that would be nice."

B is stroking over A's brow

"You scared the shit out of me!"

"Do you need anything?"

A refuses to stay at the hospital because they're 'not sick'

"Everything's fine! Leave me alone!"

"Why won't you let anyone help you?"

getting dizzy from all the countless examinations and tests

having a medical/health-related secret

trying to be strong for everyone

"You're what?" "... pregnant..."

"It's just a checkup. You can go home." "You came here with the ambulance. This is no checkup. Now stop downplaying it!"

being excited to get a cast everyone can sign

"Stop fussing!"

B feels guilty because they have been arguing right before A got committed to the hospital

"Don't leave me!"

seeing how uncertain everything is in life, they realise they have to confess their feelings

"I won't spoil you just because you have been so careless to injure yourself."

B neglects their own needs as they stay by A's bedside continuously

B can't stop holding A's hand

"You're very brave."

B kisses A's bandaid

"Does it still hurt?"

"Don't worry! We'll make sure you'll get better very soon."

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awkwardchaosposts · 6 months

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Scrubs

Chishiya x reader (Hospital!AU) [gn!reader] part 1

(TW!: mentions of needles and IV's, discrimination against crocs)

/⁠ᐠ⁠｡⁠ꞈ⁠｡⁠ᐟ⁠\/⁠ᐠ⁠｡⁠ꞈ⁠｡⁠ᐟ⁠\/⁠ᐠ⁠｡⁠ꞈ⁠｡⁠ᐟ⁠\/⁠ᐠ⁠｡⁠ꞈ⁠｡⁠ᐟ⁠\/⁠ᐠ⁠｡⁠ꞈ⁠｡⁠ᐟ⁠\/⁠ᐠ⁠｡⁠ꞈ⁠｡⁠ᐟ⁠\/⁠ᐠ⁠｡⁠ꞈ⁠｡⁠ᐟ⁠\

Chishiya was is an extra bad mood today. They were short staffed on tonight's night shift so it was up to him to look after the undergrads despite being a mere post-grad student.

"You're doing it wrong" you heard a familiar voice from behind you. It made you smile. Med-school was hard. Night-shifts,the long hours and stress can easily get to a person but a particular snarky doctor makes your day slightly more durable "It's my first day"

Was it just you or did your comment get an almost smile out of him?

"Your first day? last time I checked it's been 'your first day' for the past two months" he spoke in a condescending tone,picking up a new needle. "You're getting the ID and IV mixed up. With an IV you have to insert it at a 10-30° angle. Intradermal (ID) is the ones you do at a 10-15° angle"

You swear you felt a jolt of electricity when he guided your hand at a correct angle to insert the syringe into the practice dummy.

"It's not that hard. I memorised the injection angles on my first week here" his condescending comment brought you out of your own head.

"Okay grandpa"

Chishiya raised an eyebrow. Just the slightest bit amused by your snarky remark. "Grandpa? I'm not that old"

"Oh really?"

"Really. I'm 25" he instinctively shoved his hands in the side pockets of his lab coat,responding in an almost defensive way

Your reaction kind of bruised his ego. Why did you look so surprised? did he really look older than he was?

"Why's that so surprising?"

His question only got a shrug out of you "Well it's not that you look old it's just well..." you glanced at his dark blue crocs. "You dress like a person in their mid 30's"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Your comment was stuck in Chishiya's head all day. It was 6am. He'd just finished his nightshift and he was honestly a bit frustrated.

He didn't care what anyone thought. Especially you. But that didn't stop him from thinking about it. Constantly. It's like you just humbled this man more than anyone ever has.

And that's why...

"Chiya. Hey! What's wrong? you never call me" Kuina,his best friend and luckily for him a major in fashion.

The man didn't bother answering her question. "I need your advice"

"Advice on what?"

"I'm buying new shoes this weekend. I guess I could...use your opinion"

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anartistsjunkdrawer · 4 months

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🏥TADC Hospital AU🏥

This is an alternate universe in which TADC characters work in a Hospital instead of the Circus. It may sound less exciting, but they have adventures in the hospital like they do in the original universe. Characters who came into the digital world all started out as patients, but later became medical staff themselves. Overtime, many of the staff abstracted. They all work together to help each other and the patients at this Digital Hospital.

I do have Caine's design, but I'm currently redesigning him until I'm satisfied with it.

Caine is the CEO of the hospital, but he also has the side job as a dentist. <:

#the amazing digital circus #tadc #tadc au #the amazing digital circus au #au #alternate universe #hospital au #medical au #the digital hospital au #pomni #ragatha #Jax #zooble #Kinger #gangle #And yes this AU will have Ragapom in it

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giuliettagaltieri · 7 months

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Doctor's Order

Pairing: Surgeon!Eren x Nurse!Reader

Synopsis: You could not make your crush on Dr. Eren Jaeger any more obvious. And even though you can tolerate his usual cold demeanor, you also know when to draw the line.

Warning: Unrequited love, cursing, angst, operation procedure, mentions of blood.

Word Count: 1792

1 of 3

The operating room department of Paradis Medical Centre is never boring with you around.

Your sweet wit and jolly personality just about brighten anyone's day, except for Dr. Eren Jaeger who seems to be eternally tortured by a cause unknown to you. He is immune to your charms, which makes you like him even more.

“I need the chart of patient Bozado.” A deep voice speaks behind the nurses’ station. Your back immediately straightens up and a blinding smile makes its way to your lips.

“Good morning, Doc!” You scan through the charts until you find the one that he needs, you hand the metallic clipboard to Eren with another one of your smiles.

Your coworkers no longer bat an eye when you skip around the counter to sit next to him on a table nearby. The man, still not acknowledging you as he scans through the patient’s chart. Ulou Bozado, this is his third time having his tongue stitched after a severe tongue laceration, they would need to find better interventions for that man.

“Are you busy this afternoon?” You ask sweetly, your face resting on your palms as you stare at him with your wide, expecting eyes.

“Yes.” He says without much hesitation.

“A new café just opened in the lobby. We should totally go.”

Eren’s tired eyes land on you and he sighs. “I have a conference.”

You giggle. “The one with Doctor Smith? It’s not until seven in the evening.”

His eyes narrowed at you, suspicious as to how you found out.

“So later then? After our shift?” You beam.

“What did I just tell you?” He asks while scanning the chart again.

“Oh, come on. Ren-”

He clicks his tongue. “That’s Doctor Jaeger to you.”

Some of the other nurses and doctors in the station glance at you, waiting and watching how you’ll react to this.

Your eyebrows raise in surprise at his tone but a sly smile makes its way to your lips. “As your possible wife in the near future, shouldn’t I have the right to call you by your name?”

He releases a long exasperated breath, he’s done dealing with your bullshit for today. Eren signs an order he just wrote in the chart and slams it close, he shoves it to you and gets up to leave without sparing you a reply.

The other staff in the room go about their previous tasks as if nothing happened. Well, this is an everyday occurrence, of course they got used to it.

“So, later then?” You laugh while watching him retreat to the Doctors’ lounge.

“Call me when the patient’s being rolled in. Until then, I’d like nothing but silence from you.” And he slams the door close, making you shake your head while laughing. He’s so fun to tease.

“You sure are playing with fire, Y/N.” Historia comments with a slight shiver.

You swat the air as if to dismiss her fear. “He’s just pretending to be an apathetic asshole but he’s actually really nice.” You put the chart back while Historia follows you around fiddling with her scrubs that are identical to yours. “Last week, he did an operation free of charge.”

Her eyes widened. “For that kid that was in a vehicular accident?”

Nodding, you grab your phone. “Was just avoiding an old man who crossed the road. Poor kid.” You sighed. “Anyway, what would you like me to get for you?”

She squealed. “I forgot! You’ll be leaving for your trip tomorrow.”

You press your fingers to her lips to silence her. “Historia!”

“Oh.” She stifled her giggles. “Sorry.”

“I don’t wanna jinx this into a toxic shift.”

She rolls her eyes playfully. “But how bad could it be? Two-week vacation? Are you kidding me?”

You laugh as you open your note app. “Now, tell me what you want.”

As it turns out, you did jinx yourself.

The operation with patient Bozado went swiftly but then ER made a call two hours before your shift ends. They’re bringing in a patient who was in a vehicular accident and her seatbelt just about crushed her spleen.

You almost bump into Eren on your way to the operating theater. And he sends a sharp glare at you.

You listen to the endorsement of the ER nurse as you scrub in and drop instruments into the sterile field. The circulating nurse is busy trying to make a call outside the theater. They’re trying to reach the on-call surgeons but nobody’s picking up.

They have Eren here. A highly qualified general surgeon. Why would they contact other people?

The anesthesiologist comes in to sedate the patient as you finish preparing the instruments in a manner that Eren preferred.

When he comes in, you notice a strained expression on his face.

“Where’s the assistant surgeon? The interns?” He asks.

“It’s just you today, Doc.” The anesthesiologist says.

You hand him a towel and he dries his hands thoroughly and flings the towel to the side with much force that makes you glance at him.

“The fuck are you staring around for?” He snaps loudly, gaining the room’s attention to you.

You serve him the gown, apologizing profusely. Your hands quiver when you open the gloves for him and in haste to serve it to him, your hands slip and the sterile glove drops to the floor.

“If you mess up in my theater one more time-”

“I won’t, I-I’m sorry.” You say with your eyes turning glassy.

The circulating nurse drops a new pair of gloves in the field and you carefully offer it to Eren. He adjusts it on his hands and he watches the patient carefully as they prep her abdomen.

“Begin initial count.” Eren tells you. The circulating nurse stands a few feet away from you with a clipboard and you start counting off the number of sponges, instruments, and needles.

“Excuse me, Doctor Jaeger, Doctor Pyxis, and the rest of the surgical team. The initial counting of sponges, instruments, and needles is complete.” You say.

“Vitals?” He asks the anesthesiologist, Dr. Dot Pyxis.

“Stable.” The anes responds while glancing at you and you give him a reassuring smile. “You can start now, Doctor Jaeger.”

You quickly pull the mayo table and you stand next to Eren.

“Scalpel.” He says without looking at you.

The blade holder clatters softly against the kidney basin and you hand it to him. You watch him crack his neck after taking a deep breath through the mask and he presses the tip of the blade against the patient’s skin. You quickly grab a surgical sponge.

“Sponge.”

You put it on Eren’s waiting hand and he wipes at the blood that seeps out.

“Cautery.”

You give it to him.

The operation continues and you watch Eren trying to locate the ruptured part of the spleen. You glance at him when he clicks his tongue, just as a small spray of blood stains your gown.

“Hemo-”

But you were already passing him the hemostat. Eren quickly clamps the vessel.

“Irrigation.” You push the plunger of the syringe to squirt out fluid in the abdominal cavity and you carefully refill the syringe with the same sterile solution.

“Am I supposed to work blindly here?” Eren’s voice booms as he glares at you.

You freeze and your wide eyes, now full of fear, stare back at him.

“Suction!” He says loudly and you immediately hand him the suction tip.

He yanks it from you and you bow your head in shame. You bite your lips hard enough that you taste tangy copper but you blink the tears away. You refuse to cry in front of him.

The operation ends after a few more outbursts from Eren.

After the patient is rolled to the post anesthesia care unit, you linger around in the theater to clean up, and so you’ll have an excuse not to come to the station where Eren is definitely writing the report in the patient’s chart.

“What an asshole, amiright?” the anesthesiologist drawls to you as he bounces a leg while sitting on a chair in the corner.

You only smile at him politely, refusing to confirm his words.

“He definitely shouldn’t have done that to you.” He says more seriously now. “Even if she was his friend.”

Your hands pause and you look at him.

“Patient Ackerman is his friend?”

He nods. “Back in med school, or even before that.” He stands to stretch. “Well, I’ll be off now. You better bring me souvenirs from that trip of yours.”

You stare off into the swinging doors, the silence of the empty theater rings on your ears.

That explains his behaviour.

The law says that he was not supposed to operate on immediate family and friends.

Or was it about something else.

You clean up the sterile instruments along with the orderly. He keeps glancing at you, but you deliberately chose not to meet his eyes as you know exactly what he wanted to ask, and you refuse to be the subject of their pity.

On your way back to the nurses’ station, you take a glance inside the post anesthesia care unit or PACU as you call it.

And a single glance inside has you ashamed of your actions.

It seems like Dr. Jaeger and apparently Dr. Ackerman, not just patient Ackerman, share something deeper than friendship.

You pursued a man who is in a relationship.

Eren was slumped on the chair next to her. His hair is disheveled and his face rests on his hands. He looks equally distraught as he is exhausted.

The cardiac monitor beeps and he stands abruptly to see what went wrong.

He lets out a breath of relief when she stabilizes once more.

Your eyes sting with tears. You do not understand why you are so upset with yourself. Was it for letting him lash out on you, or was it for pining for him when he is already head over heels for someone.

You choke back your tears and head to the station. Historia is already waiting for you. Her eyes looked angry but she was so gentle in handing you your stuff.

You thanked her when she gave you the procedure sheet which needed your signature.

You sniffled and quickly cleared your throat.

“I’ll see you in two weeks.” You smile at her.

“That’s it!” She says loudly just before grabbing hold of your hands over the counter. “You go enjoy that trip, you hear me? You have to enjoy it so hard that you’ll forget that he even existed!”

The other nurses cheer and some of the other surgeons nod at you.

You glance in the direction of the PACU.

Damn right you’re gonna enjoy this trip.

Doctor's Order • Progress Notes • Care Plan

#eren jaeger x reader #eren yaeger x reader #attack on titan #eren x you #doctor au eren jaeger #hospital au

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thyme-in-a-bubble · 1 year

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trypanonbore

A/N: this is an old fic, originally posted back in June 2022.

warnings: Spencer Reid x reader, hospital au, established relationship, making out in an elevator, sexual references, major greys anatomy vibes, medical history (this is basically just me infodumping about a random subject I know freakishly much about)

word count: 1137

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist

You felt like there was lightning coursing through your veins. Your face was starting to hurt from how intense your smile was. Hell, you were practically skipping down the hallway! You felt like you could do anything right now.

Stopping in front of the elevator, you leaned forward and pressed the button with the small arrow on it. Swinging your arms wildly, as a child would, you glanced up at the red numbers that were slowly coming closer to the one that matched the floor you were currently on. Once it glowed 5, you heard a low ding and the metallic doors slid open to revile a man that did not help eliminate your smile.

“Good afternoon, Dr Reid,” you said, sounding as professional as you could. Gliding into the elevator, you turned around and waited for the doors to close.

“Dr Y/l/n, hello,” he smiled, not taking his eyes off you for one second.

As soon as the doors shut, you felt his hands on you, swiftly turning you to meet his gaze. That little ball of excitement still darted throughout your body, and since the two of you now were completely alone you grabbed a hold of his lab coat, raised yourself up onto your tiptoes and planted one on him.

Not protesting, he simply reached out to press the button that stopped the elevator. The short ringing sound didn’t alarm you, as this wasn’t exactly the first time the two of you had found yourselves in this very situation and it probably wouldn’t be the last.

“Hi,” he pulled away, “you seem happy today.”

“Well, there was this guy who came into the ER with a subdural hematoma and Dr Collins let me do burr holes all by myself,” you beamed, snaking your arms around his neck.

Pulling back, he exclaimed, smile only growing wider, “seriously?”

“Yeah,” you couldn’t help but giggle.

Rushing down to kiss you again he mumbled in between the kisses, “of course he did,” moving from your lips onto your flushed cheek, “because youare an incredible doctor.”

Giggling, you rolled your head to the side, letting his mouth travel down towards your neck.

“You know,” he began, walking you back slowly until your rear hit the wall of the elevator, “the term trepanation derives from the ancient Greek word trypanonbore,” he pressed his hips forward to meet yours.

“Yeah, I bet you’re just dying to bore something into me right now,” you weaved your fingers through the roots of his hair, scratching lightly at the nape of his neck.

Chuckling at your comment, he couldn’t help but continue his infodumping in between his lips dance across your skin, “back in 1865, Ephraim George Squier was in Peru and stayed with this lady called Señora Zentino, who had one of the best collections of art and those kinds of things, but she also had this skull with an unusual hole in it that Squier somehow convinced her to give to him. Now, it’s not like this was the first time a skull like this was discovered, but it was the first time that people didn’t just brush over it and actually tried to find the cause.”

Shutting your eyes, you let yourself enjoy the warm rush his voice shot throughout your body. Let's be honest, the kisses also helped amplify the feeling.

“So, he then travelled up to present it to the New York Academy of Medicine, but they were just a group of men who were convinced that it couldn’t possibly have been done intentionally, or at least not when the person still was alive. They didn’t think that those primitive people were capable of such advanced medical procedures. Now Squier didn’t buy a word of what they said, so he went all the way over to Paris to show it to Paul Broca, and he could quickly tell that the hole was not only done intentionally but also when the patient was still alive.”

“Well, of course, he could see that,” you couldn’t help but interject, “it’s Paul fucking Broca!”

“And after that,” he slipped his fingertips under your shirt and ventured up to meet your lips once more, “it didn’t take long for trepanation to be accepted in the medical community.”

Crashing his lips onto yours, you couldn’t help but let out a tiny moan.

Coming up for air you smirked, running your hands down his body, “speaking of Paul Broca, you make my Broca’s area go all dumb, all of the time… especially when you do that thing with your tongue…”

“Baby, if you don’t already know how much I love that fact about you, I will just have to keep showing you,” he glided his palms down to meet your ass, pulling you even closer to him. Giving you a quick kiss, he then pulled back just enough for him to breathe out, “what are you doing tonight?”

Sticking your tongue out and teasingly giving his lips a quick lick, you answered, “you, hopefully.”

Capturing your lips hungrily one last time, you drew it out as long as you could, but also kept in mind that this was not really the best time or place to bite off more than you could chew.

Nuzzling his nose against yours, he hummed, “fuck, I wish I could just pull you into an on-call room right now and bury my head between your thighs, but I have a surgery in a bit,” pressing his hips against yours one last time, just in case you hadn’t noticed before how much he wanted you.

“Go, save a life, I’ll still be here when you get back.”

With a sharp inhale of breath, he took a step back, admiring the slightly dishevelled state you were in, still flush against the wall.

Tugging your shirt back into your trousers, you slowly regained your breath. Keeping your eyes locked with his, you tightened your ponytail, making sure your hair was all gathered and neat.

“You ready?” he asked, reaching out to press the stop button again in order to make the elevator move once more.

“I am if you are.”

And with that, he pushed the button and you parted ways with the wall. Standing beside one another, you felt his pinky finger brush against yours, but before you could grab a hold of his hand, the doors slid open and his warm presence slipped away.

“Good luck on your surgery Dr Reid,” you called out after him.

Just before the doors could close again, he turned around and smiled, “thank you, Dr Y/l/n, and just to circle back to that thing you told me about? I’m proud of you.”

A smile once again spread across your face as he reminded you of the incredible achievement you made today.

#lea’s writing #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fic #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #hospital au #doctor au #spencer reid au #doctor!spencer reid

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birdstooth · 11 months

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A follow up to this doodle post inspired by a request from @meilas … the story continues looool

Bonus:

The original doodle!

#poto #the phantom of the opera #hospital au #lol #idk why I made this #have to get the brain demons out I guess #comics and doodles #poto doodles

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mingigoo · 1 year

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Halloween 🍂 k.hj (m)

based on Halloween by phoebe bridgers

🍂 pairing ⇢ roommate! Hongjoong x medical student! (fem) reader

🍂 summary ⇢ life is the same, no matter a holiday. You wake up, hear the sirens from the hospital down the street, go to work, and come back home to your beautiful roommate, Hongjoong. It’s an endless cycle, but this Halloween, you could be anything—do anything. You decide to give into your infatuation, causing life to take a turn for you both. Happy Halloween, I guess.

🍂genre/au ⇢ Halloween au, roommate au, friends to lovers

🍂 warnings/tags ⇢ 18+ minors dni, mental illness (anxiety attacks), unprotected sex, hongjoong is a literal chef and certified sweetheart, literally the best roommate you could ever have, dreary, sad vibes, hongjoong has a cat, spooky season vibes, mention of death, oral sex (female recieving), best friends that dont know how to express their feelings, halloween party, yunho makes an appearance, hongjoong makes music, roommates to lovers, plz let me know if I missed anything.

🍂word count ⇢ 13.5k

🍂taglist ⇢ @atinywhore@meowmeowminnie @roe-sinning @yeritheloml @shegotboreddsoo @kangyeosangelic @sanshineeeeee @8tinytings @yukine-smx @jjhmk @yesv01 @halesandy @ch0isa99ie @y00nzin0 @spiderrenjunfics

Halloween. The time to dress up and act like someone you’re not. To have that insatiable feeling to be someone new—to put on a mask. To be absolutely anything you desire…

But the thing is, it’s not just you. You're not the only one feeling this way, and it's ever so apparent on one singular day, when everyone has a chance to hide their flaws behind comical masks or tedious costume designs. It's all out of fun, people say. It's the trend, it's the reason for the occasion. But, out of everything, you are becoming whatever you want—the same way Cinderella became a princess overnight, only to get it taken away from her the minute the hour of the next day struck.

To you, Halloween was your excuse to become a different person. To gain a new strength you never had. To free your mind into an alternate reality and explore those deep feelings you've been keeping away from spilling over the surface.

And this halloween, you were going to find your way out of that dark room you called a mind.

—

You sat in your cozy nook of the townhouse you shared, a mug of steaming coffee next to you while you read. Slow, gentle rain drops fell down the glass of the window, the soft pitter-patter creating an intimate environment. Your roommate’s cat added to the feeling, as she was curled up in a ball at your feet, dusty fur matching your fluffy socks.

It's finally october—your favorite time of the year, although there was no reason for it other than the tasty coffee flavors and the colorful scenery. Your roommate also adored the season, as it reflected in his peculiar food concoctions and outfit choices. Sometimes you would just sit and watch his eyes sparkle as he would do his favorite things, keeping your admiration in check.

Of course, he was on your mind way more than a roommate should be. Even now, as your eyes move from word to word across the smooth pages, you begin to think of his smile.

It was a Saturday afternoon. Your shift at the hospital ended the night before, three hours later than normal. It's gotten to the point that you would shiver whenever you hear sirens—and you were blessed with not only hearing the sirens at work, but also at home.

The hospital was only down the street; the closest one on this side of town. You had to keep those intrusive thoughts away, telling yourself someone better be dying just because the sirens are getting out of hand is a bit of a stretch, someone should slap you for thinking that way. In all honesty, you didn't actually mean it. The sounds were just so overwhelming, it felt like death was looming above you no matter where you turned.

Hongjoong hasn't returned from his morning classes yet. Luckily for you, you were doing your hospital internship and didn't have to take a bunch of classes this semester. Although basically living at a hospital isn't exactly any better.

You sighed as you watched the man of the hour walk through the lifeless leaves on the pavement through the window, keeping your heartbeat steady as you admired him. He had headphones on, hiding his cute little ear piercings and pieces of his faded rusty hair.

God, he made you sick.

The crimson door of the townhouse swung open, revealing the man you were just daydreaming about. He stood in the doorway, looking down at his damp, beaten up converse before bending down to untie them. He got impatient, and just pulled them off of his feet, leaving him only in his cute little pumpkin socks.

“y/n, I brought you a croissant,” he called out to you, not realizing you were only a glance away. He set his bag down on the table and took off his headphones, shaking his head to fix his hair. “You better get over here before I eat it.”

“Is it chocolate filled?” you asked him quietly from your nook, to which he whipped his head to look at you.

The minute he laid his eyes on you, he broke out in a huge smile, his gums showing. “Well, yeah. That's your favorite.”

You stared at him intently, setting down your book on your lap and sitting up a bit. This caused the kitty to meow, which had an immediate effect on your roommate.

His eyes widened. “Oh!” he gasped, running over to the cat to pay attention to her. “Look, baby, we’re twins,” he pointed to his pumpkin socks, smiling proudly. You knew that he only got those socks because of the pumpkins—and because his cat was named pumpkin. “My sweet little pumpkin.”

“What am I, chopped liver?” you scoffed, sliding out of your blanket and setting the book down. You made your way over to the table, which was where he set the croissant bag. “Anyway, thank you, joong.”

He looked over at you and smiled as a response, but it wasn't enough. You wanted him to come over to you and hold you tight, kiss you on the forehead, and let his soft breaths hit you as he would breathe for you.

Now, you weren't always like this. He’s been your roommate since freshman year, all the way back when you used to live on campus. You’ve been in three different living situations with him, but for some reason, living alone with him in a townhouse with a cat and a cute garden in the back just made your mind live in delululand. Dear god, you felt like a married couple at times, as he would spare no second to cook you dinner or help you with your laundry.

There was just something about him that was so domestic—the same thing you craved every chance you got. But yet, here you were, still daydreaming about it all and never getting it to happen.

And you know exactly when it started. On that halloween, three years ago, when he held you tight in his embrace after finding out your grandmother had passed. It was one of the worst panic attacks in your history. He takes care of you when they happen now, but back then, it was all new to him.

It wasn't supposed to be the type of moment you think about how his hair smelled, or the way his dainty hands caressed the tears away. It wasn't supposed to play out that way. But yet, it did, and you were still stuck with the feelings years later.

Halloween is less than a month away now—this year, it was a chance for you to hide away, or show your true colors.

— —

It was midnight and cold and all you wanted to do was curl up in a ball in your bed. Being in the emergency room was even harder than you imagined, and you knew you had a night of tossing and turning ahead of you. Luckily tomorrow was a rest day, and you would be back on campus for a seminar. You needed a break from the hustle and bustle of life versus death, and you started to think that maybe you just weren't cut out for it. It was far too late for your indecisiveness to kick in, as it seemed to jump up and surprise you every now and again. Hey! This isn't what you want to do, right? What about this? Ah, no, that's not what I want….

A never ending cycle of your life. Wake up, think about hongjoong. Drink coffee made by hongjoong. Have your shoes tied by hongjoong. Go to work and nearly die. Come home from your commute and see hongjoong. Hongjoong makes food for you. Hongjoong smiles for you. Hongjoong…..

Hongjoong, Hongjoong, Hongjoong……

He’s everywhere; Is everything. You know you wouldn't survive without the helpful, caring hands of the man you called a roommate, but you also don't know what will happen when you graduate and part ways. Knowing that he has no mental ties to you quite in the way you have him tied around every morsel of your psyche, it nearly breaks your heart just thinking about it.

Would you crumble right there? Like an old painting or a sculpture, would you cave in without that constant attention? That constant affection for just your existence?

Giving up on your existential thoughts for the night, you slowly glided up the few steps of the brick townhouse, nearly tripping on the last step. You've already done that one too many times, as there is a permanent mark left on your favorite pair of shoes.

Finally opening the door, you entered your humble abode with a grimace, chucking off your shoes to reach the kitchen table. You sat down grumpily, putting your elbows up onto the table when the sweet smell of baking filled your senses.

“Joong? Whatcha makin?” you playfully spoke. He was leaning against the counter across from you, his arms crossed and his eyebrow raised.

“What does it smell like?” he asked you.

You shrugged, breaking your stare to rest your head on the cold table. “I guess like cookies.”

Joong took a second to respond to you, and ran a hand through his rusty hair. It used to be a vibrant red—just like the leaves of the trees.

“Are you feeling alright?” he spoke softly, moving from his distant position to come a little closer, now leaning against the table. His arms held him up, and from your line of vision, you were able to see a few of his fingertips painted black. “Was it a bad day at the hospital?”

Sirens bellowed loudly from the street, as if on cue of the topic. You groaned and nodded. “God, yeah. There was so much….death. I mean, I thought I knew it was going to be bad but I never thought it was this bad.”

Hongjoong sighed, backing up to get the cookies out of the oven. “I have a question,” he said, his voice strained as he reached into the heat.

“Shoot.”

He set the tray down onto the stove, turning off the oven.

“Are you happy?”

His words made you raise your head, meeting his worry-filled gaze. You always hated the way he looked at you, it wasn't in the way you wanted. He always seemed so worried—like he was pitying you. He knew your whole life story, from how you were only raised by a grandmother that lived her life for you, to how you deal with the anxiety that breaks through you like a sickness. It hinders you to the point where you hide it from others, but joong—he knows everything.

You smiled at him, hiding your true colors because he always seemed to break down your walls. In truth, you were feeling anxiety all day—maybe it was the woman who reminded you of your grandmother today. The same woman you witnessed flatline with her granddaughter gripping her pale hand. You watched the young girl’s tears smack onto the linoleum, your heart aching and letting your own tears well up.

Your grandmother was all you had. Your parents passed away in a car accident together, the world taking them both away from you in the same night. You witnessed it from the backseat, the cracks of the windshield and the dark, pooling blood you wished wasn't your parents. It was some sort of miracle that you survived unscathed, but in your sweet grandmother’s words, you were an angel.

You didn't believe in any of that religious shit now, but maybe it was due to all your ups and downs. You didn't need to have some godly figure in your life to know that you were damned no matter what. So you lived your life in fits of anxiety and happiness, all swarming around you. Your anxiety made you believe that you didn't deserve that happiness, and the happiness made you believe you didn't deserve the anxiety.

And hongjoong? He was your happiness.

You sighed, remembering that he asked you a question long before your mind started wandering. You smiled, a real smile, right at him. “Yes, if you're here with me, I'm happy.”

He scoffed playfully, still directly across from you. The only thing in your way was the kitchen table, creating some sort of barrier with your feelings. You could just…walk around it and enter his world, touch his face, run your hands through his hair…

“Well I’m just checking up on my y/n,” he smiled, that beautiful smile of his. He pushed up his sleeves, and turned away from you to pick up a cookie off the tray. “Come here.”

You obeyed like a well-trained dog, making your way past that invisible barrier. He stood close to you, his eyes bright and sparkling as he looked down at you. “Open,” he said, and once again, you obeyed like you owed him your life.

You opened your mouth for him to give you a bite, his fingertips gliding against the corners of your mouth. You ate the cookie from his hold happily, and when he was going to pull away after it was gone, you suddenly gripped his wrist with your hand.

“What are you—”

“Shh. there's still some chocolate on your fingers,” you teased, looking into his eyes as you licked the tip of his fingers, trying your best to distract your horrible thoughts. Now your focus has moved to tease him, hoping to get a reaction out of him.

Your lips moved down onto his fingers, sucking on them until the taste of chocolate was dull. You shut your eyes, not able to see the look of lust radiating from hongjoong’s glare. It disappeared the moment you met his eyes again, and he let out a chuckle as you pulled back.

“You really like chocolate, huh?” he carried on, his eyes moving back and forth from your eyes to your hand gripping his wrist. His vision was hazy as he pulled out of your grip, moving to distract himself with something—anything. “I thought you preferred my gingerbread cookies?”

You nodded, looking at him up and down. “Yeah, but only around christmas time.”

“Ah,” he gulped, reaching for the small towel that was hanging from the oven door. He wiped his hands hastily, moving away from you towards his little study–converted into a studio. “I gotta go finish my song, alright? Why don't you eat more of the cookies?”

He shut the door of his studio room with aggression, leaving you in a warm, chocolatey kitchen with flour all over the floor. You smiled down at it, making you think about him spilling it and cursing like a sailor.

You loved him.

—

The week flew by, it was now mid-october. Your favorite season was slowly fading away with a blink of an eye, and you spent most of your autumn days cooped up in the emergency ward or your room, hiding from the sirens. Maybe this isn't for you, but once again—

You were too far in to quit, now. You loved it, you really did. You had that feeling–that ability—to save someone's life the way your parents’ lives could have been spared. You were doing a good thing, you couldn't handle the anxiety for the expense of someone's life.

You found yourself curled up in your cozy blanket in the corner of the couch, hongjoong sitting on the other side. He stared at you—watched your movements. He noticed everything about you, and knew when you were about to have an attack.

“y/n? Why don't you put on your favorite show?” he asked you, but it was more of a demand. When you stared at him blankly from your curled over position, he sighed and stood up to grab the remote from the coffee table. After turning on some cartoons that you loved, he left the room to grab a glass of water.

When he came back, you were sitting up straight, staring off toward the window, looking at how the raindrops fell. You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Just a desperate breath for air. You fisted the blanket in your hands, holding back your shakes.

Hongjoong sat the cup of water down quickly, making his way over to you with a rush. He sat down next to you and wrapped his arms around you, nuzzling his face into your shoulder. “Come on, angel. It's okay, I promise,” his voice echoed through your mind, your breathing getting unsteady and your hands twitching in your grip for them to stop. The feeling overwhelmed you—it was as if you were dying. His touch only helped a little in the heat of the moment, and he held you tightly as your body shaked.

You gasped for air, the tears of fear rolling down your cheeks. No matter how many times you go through these attacks, each time makes you feel like you wont make it through it. Hongjoong’s facial expression looked pained as he reached for your hands under the blanket, gripping them in his own so you weren't cutting crescents into your palms.

“Let's play the letter game, okay?” his head was still buried in your neck, his voice strong. “An animal. Okay? An animal that starts with A?”

You gulped, tearing into the skin of his hand with your nails. “A…animal?”

He chuckled, nodding. “Yes angel, an animal. What animal starts with the letter A?”

“Uh,” you breathed, the tears now staining his shirt. “A-ant eater?”

He pulled away from your neck, his free hand running down your cheek to catch the tears. “Good job. B?”

You took a second, panicking when you couldn't think of something. Hongjoong ran a hand through your hair as you shook, holding onto you tightly. “It's okay, I'll help you. Bear? Buffalo? You like buffalo sauce, right? You like the spice.”

You nodded, smiling at his efforts. He did this with such love in his eyes that you could have sworn he was in love with you. That he cared for you this deeply.

He smiled, brightening up your heart. “Good, good. Now C?”

“Cat.”

“Wonderful,” he cooed, running a hand down your arm. He carried on through the alphabet, until he reached H.

“Hongjoong,” you smiled, finally feeling a bit more like yourself and not some mummy locked in its own body.

He laughed melodically, causing your smile to brighten even more. “I’m not an animal,” he teased, pulling you to his chest and running a hand down your back. “Are you feeling better?”

You nodded, your hand tremors dying down. Hongjoong didn't let go of your hand yet, still holding onto you as tight as he could.

“I just want to take it all away,” he whispered softly, his lips near your ear. Little did he know that he did take the pain away. He was the source of your happiness—you needed him.

“You do,” you hummed back raspily, your heart on your sleeve as he kept you close to him. “You do take the pain away.”

He sighed, kissing your temple with such softness, you crumbled in his hold.

“I don't think it's enough.”

You didn't say anything after that. He did let go of you reluctantly after you said you needed the water, but the minute you finished drinking it, he was back to holding you, his head against yours as silence enveloped you both in the darkness of the room.

You were certain friends don't kiss each other like that.

—

The next week of October came—the week before halloween. This time, you felt better than last week. The constant presence of dressing up as something this year was heavy on your chest, knowing your colleagues have invited you to a party. You have yet to ask hongjoong to join you, as you wouldn't dare show your face alone.

You took a day off on the first day of the week, hongjoong sick as a dog and your heart aching for him.

You brewed some hot tea and fixed him up a bowl of his favorite soup, caring for him the same way he catered to you. The thing was that he denied it most of the time, leaving you standing alone with your heart in your hands, ready to give it to him.

You set the bowl of soup on a tray you normally used as decor, spilling it slightly that the wood of the tray darkened. You rolled your eyes at your clumsiness, and then set the mug of tea on the stained wood.

Making your way up the thin, creaky townhouse stairs, you reached his room at the end of the hallway. He left the door open a crack, inviting you in at any given moment. So you entered the sunlit room, his curtains pulled back and his head hidden under the duvet. All you could see of him was his little wave of orange hair and a foot peeking from the cover.

“Joongie,” you cooed, cautiously entering his abode with nervousness. You knew him for ages, took care of him for ages, but everytime you got close to him, you felt your chest get heavy. Almost as if something was pushing you down. “Are you awake?”

He groaned something inaudible, tossing around in the bed until half of his body was out of the covers. He was shirtless, his smooth, slightly toned stomach glistening with sweat. You sighed, collecting your dirty thoughts.

You set the tray down on his nightstand, pushing aside the cough medicine and dirty tissues you would clean up after. Little pumpkin was sitting at the foot of the bed, watching your every move.

“I have dinner for you,” you hummed, reaching over to him, but pausing at his unclothed body. It was as if you were a feral animal—you wanted to devour him.

You ignored the instinct and pulled up the covers.

“What is it? I’m not hungry,” he groaned groggily, his eyes barely opening. He let out a cough, and it made you want to take his sickness away.

“You need to eat, you haven't eaten all day.”

He sighed, pushing himself up on the bed, revealing his body after you concealed it. He leaned up against his headboard, sniffling. His eyes were sunken in and his lips were pale, but you still thought he was the most beautiful being in the world.

You wanted to kiss away his chapped lips.

“Soup?” he said raspily, looking over at his night stand. He went to reach for it, but nearly spilled the tray.

You grabbed the bowl, and went to sit on the edge of the bed, next to his sweating frame. He definitely still had a fever. “Here, take it while I take your temp.”

He grabbed the soup out of your hold, his warm fingers brushing against yours. He didn't hesitate when you leaned over him, but you heard his breaths get shallow when you brushed away the hairs off his face to place your hand on his forehead. “Stay away from me,” he blinked at you, and even though his words seemed harsh, it was all out of love. “You’ll get sick. I don't want you to get sick.”

“I’d rather be sick than watch you suffer,” you smiled at him, your eyes lingering on his chapped lips for a moment too long. “You look better than you did this morning.”

He swallowed a spoonful of the soup, shutting his eyes tight as the warm liquid coated his sore throat.

“Thank you,” he said. It was only an acknowledgement in words, but his eyes pierced through yours as you sat inches away from him. He meant it, but you were too involved to read between the lines of his breaths.

He breathed for you.

You stood up to leave him peace, but your breath hitched as his warm hand reached your thigh, causing you to look down at it cautiously.

“Don't—” he paused, lifting his grip and moving to set down the bowl of soup. “Don't go.”

You didn't let the smile creep up onto your lips. “I thought you didn't want me to get sick?” you instigated, but nonetheless moved further onto the bed, holding onto his overheating frame with all the love in the world.

“I don't, but I want to be selfish today,” he coughed, nuzzling his head into you. His lips were pressed to your neck, sending chills down your spine. Your fingertips caressed his bare skin, hoping to take away his sickness.

You held him until the sun went down, thinking that was enough for him.

Feeling as though he was sleeping, you tried to pull yourself out of his grip, to which he pulled you to him even tighter. Now your faces were an inch apart as you both lied on the bed, his hot breaths tickling your lips.

“Where are you going?” he asked you.

“Nowhere,” you smiled, looking into his tired eyes. You leaned forward, resting your head against his. “I’m sorry.”

He sighed in contentment, letting out a breath as his arms tightened around you. He didn't speak—he just looked at you with hearts in his eyes.

“Don't leave me,” he whispered.

You ran a hand through his messy hair. “I won't, I won't.”

He fell asleep in your arms, all while your mind kept you up the whole night. You knew this isn't what normal friends do—but this is how you were together, which was normal for you.

You got sick the day after.

—

On the third day of the week before halloween, you both were finally feeling better. He seemed back to normal, but you still had a slight sore throat that made you not want to eat. Hongjoong insisted the same way you made him eat the soup, and he cooked up your favorite pasta meal.

“You need to eat,” he muttered, using tongs to place a scoop of pasta onto a plate. You sat across from him at the table, your head in your hands.

“I have a splitting headache,” you groaned, lifting your head up to catch the glimmer in hongjoong's caring glance.

He handed you the full plate, your nose filled with the delicious scent. “I’ll get you some medicine.”

“I’m fine, joongie,” you mumbled with a rasp, twirling your pasta around in your fork, but not lifting it up into your mouth. You stared at the thin noodles that dangled from the metal, distracted as the sauce splattered onto the plate. Hongjoong watched you, an eyebrow raised and his lip curled up.

He sat down across from you. “I uh…is there a hair in it or something?” he asked you, but a joking smile dawned on his face. “If there is, still eat it. I won't do take-backs.”

“Awe, how kind,” you chuckled, finally lifting the fork up to eat the delicious pasta. You closed your eyes as the taste filled your senses, opening them to see the look Hongjoong was giving you.

“You look pretty today,” he acknowledged, his eyes dancing around your features. He blinked at you, waiting for you to brush it off.

Boom boom.

Your heart picked up its pace. “Don't lie, joong. It doesn't suit you.”

He rolled his eyes, resting his head in his hands as he stared at you. Your phone buzzed with a text message from your work friend, which reminded you about something that happened earlier during the day.

“Oh,” you muttered with a mouthful of food. “Some guy asked for my number today,” you took another bite.

Hongjoong tilted his head at you, and then moved his gaze to his own plate of food, grabbing his fork to stab the noodles. “Oh really?”

You nodded, swallowing the food as he glared down at his own. “Yeah. he was cute. What was his name….uh, yun..yunho? Super tall, let me tell you. It was like staring up at a skyscraper—”

Hongjoong interrupted you with a loud scoff, accidentally screeching his fork against the plate. “Did you give him your number, though?” he asked you, acting as if you didn't.

You studied him for a moment, feeling confused. He seemed to care more than he should. You honestly gave the cute skyscraper your number, but you didn't have a thought in your mind about actually texting him back.

You shrugged, playing with him a little bit. “Yeah, I did,” is all you said, smiling to yourself. You were sure hongjoong thought you were smiling about yunho, when in reality you were smiling for him. “He was too cute to reject.”

At that, Hongjoong’s fork clanked onto the plate, causing you to jump and look at him. He looked mad—too mad. You swallowed the lump in your throat, feeling like you hit a nerve.

“Joong? What's wrong?”

He laughed devilishly, his eyebrows raised and his mouth slightly open. “So what? Are you gonna go on a date with him or something?”

You knew you were pushing his buttons a little too far, but you furrowed your brows at his unusual behavior.

You leaned forward, setting your own fork down. “Hey,” you narrowed your gaze while he practically had smoke coming out of his ears. “Are you jealous? Should I not date him?”

He blinked at you, and looked down at your lips for a second.

“No.” is all he said.

“He seems like a good fuck. Should just fuck him silly instead and—”

“y/n I swear to god,” he groaned, running a hand through his hair aggressively. “I, uh. Fuck,” he hissed, unable to look at you. “Thanks for the image.”

You frowned jokingly. “Ah, I see. You were visualizing me getting fucked?” you smirked, knowing you were taking it way too far. “Do you want to watch? Or join?”

You reached your arm out, sensually touching his fisted hand. You ran your fingertips in circles around his hand, a smirk on your lips.

He pulled back and stood up abruptly, causing the chair to squeak against the floor. “I-i have to go—I mean, I have a song to write…I uh…” he coughed, glancing at you for one minute and then storming out of the room, leaving you all alone with cold pasta and a frown on your face.

He didn't show his face to you that whole night.

—

Two days later; it was a friday. You had to go to campus early in the morning to listen to a required lecture, which ended up by you sitting next to hongjoong on the commuter bus.

He sat stiffly, his knee bumping into yours occasionally whenever the bus hit a pothole. You couldn't lie, you wanted him to stay touching you.

Ever since two nights ago when you brought up fucking someone and having him watch, he acted distant with you. You felt bad, hoping you didn't make him too uncomfortable with an image he probably never wanted to see in the first place.

Joong leaned against the cold bus window, looking out at the leaves that matched his hair. In his ears sat wired earbuds, attached to the jack of his phone. You leaned your shoulder into him, looking down at his hands in his lap.

No words were spoken. He lifted his head to look over at you, and after a moment, he sighed, and handed you the earbud closest to you.

“Here,” he hummed, barely audible.

You took it wordlessly, putting it in your ear to hear the soft strum of a guitar. You didn't recognize the song, but you felt the emotion fill through the little speaker, breaking through your heart. You always loved how he would share his favorite things with you, even if he was upset with you.

“I��m sorry, joongie,” you sighed, resting your head on his shoulder. He didn't say anything; maybe he was waiting for you to continue. “I shouldn't have said those things the other day.”

He mumbled something you couldn't decipher, but then nodded shortly. “It's not something to apologize for. I’m sorry I ignored you the whole night.”

You looked at his hands. He was rubbing his knuckles anxiously, so you reached out to hold them. He jumped slightly, and you gave him a side eye.

He eventually settled with your hands on top of his, and your head against his shoulder. You listened to his whole playlist—and his heartbeat—until you had to leave.

—

The same night, you brought up the halloween party.

“I need you to come with me,” you said, your eyes pleading.

He sat next to you on the couch, pumpkin sleeping adorably in his criss-crossed lap. “Why don't you take the skyscraper?” he said blatantly, his expression unreadable. He held a bottle of soju in one of his hands and had the tv remote in the other.

Was he actually jealous? At this point, he hasn't been himself since you told him about Yunho, who you didn't even know his last name.

You looked over at him, as he was paying strict attention to finding a movie. You began to overthink like you always do, convincing yourself that Hongjoong doesn't want anything to do with you.

“Do you still want to be friends with me?” you ignored his question about yunho, now feeling a bit unstable.

He noticed the shake in your voice, and sat up straight. He finally looked over at you, his eyes softening.

“y/n,” he sighed, setting the remote down. “Of course I do. Don't worry about me leaving you.”

Your gaze shot right through him. “But…you just seem off. Ever since I joked about….you know,” you sighed, running a hand through your hair. “It's something you probably had no intention of visualizing, so I feel bad—”

“No, uh,” he gulped, looking anywhere but you. “It wasn't that…”

You raised your eyebrows. “Huh? Really? What was it then?”

He looked deep in thought—and a little nervous. You wanted the words that came out of his mouth to be a love confession, something straight out of a movie. You knew it wasn't going to turn out that way, but you couldn't stop your heart from beating out of your chest.

“I just,” he paused, afraid to look over at you. “I just worry about you. I want the best for you.”

Ouch, that wasn't a confession.

Come on, hongjoong. How hard is it to say, “Oh, y/n, I love you. I’ve loved you ever since I met you?”

You hid your dissatisfaction with a smile. “I can hold my own, joongie. I may be the most anxious person alive, but I can still meet guys.”

“I know you're capable, it's not you,” he admitted, looking a bit embarrassed as he shook the bottle of soju. “It's them. The guys. You deserve the world and I don't know what I would do if a guy took it all away.”

You sat and stared as he finally picked a movie—the nightmare before christmas. It wasn't your favorite, but something about it reminded you of Hongjoong. After it started playing, he tossed the remote onto the coffee table.

“I appreciate that you care,” you told him softly, looking down at your hands in your lap. “But you don't have to worry about guys.”

You sat in silence for a little, your heartbeat finally slowing down. He scooted closer and closer to you until pumpkin jumped out of his lap angrily. He saw that as an excuse to stand up and finally plop down next to you, his shoulder brushing yours.

“You’re special to me, y/n,” is all he said as he rested his head on your shoulder, cuddling up to you under the warm, cozy blanket.

—

Tonight was the party. You were rooting through your closet, tossing things at hongjoong, who sat on your bed among the pile of clothes.

“We're being pirates, right? I’m sorry, but I doubt you have pirate shit in that closet of yours.” He teased, lifting up a shirt from the pile to fold it.

Maybe you should have planned this better.

“I have to have my corset in here somewhere,” you ignored him, knowing you were just going to toss on a slutty ass dress and put the corset on over it. “Hongjoong come here, will you?”

You heard him let out an ungodly sigh as he stomped over to you, kneeling right next to you. “What am I supposed to wear?”

“Hongjoong you literally have every possible article of clothing in your closet.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Shush.”

He stayed quiet then, and after a moment, he started to root with you. After a bunch of irritated sighs and groans, hongjoong found your corset.

“This?” he raised an eyebrow playfully. You reached out to grab it, only for him to stand up and back away from you. “Come and get it.”

“We don't have time for this, joong,” you groaned, but still stood up and followed him. He was cackling as you tried to jump for it, standing on his tip-toes as if he thought of himself as a giant. You moved forward, lunging at him with full force, which sent you tumbling down onto the smooth comforter of your bed.

You landed on top of him, his warmth radiating through you. Your hips met his hips, and something stirred inside of you. His lips were inches from yours, his hands over his head and his eyes wide.

You felt more of him than you should, but you didn't want to move. You wanted to invade his space forever—if it were a job, you’d be a professional.

He didn't say anything—he looked up through the sea of your hair, his gaze resting on your lips. He frowned, and you wondered what he was thinking.

You wanted to reach out to him. To hold him right here, forever. You wanted him to be yours and only yours.

You studied the shapes of his face, similar to how an artist evaluates their subject. He had to be sculpted by a god or something, with the way his lips curve just right, and with the compelling wonder that swirled in his eyes.

Before it got too weird, you pushed yourself up despite the ache to become one with him, and you ripped the corset out of his hands. “Thanks,” you coughed, and he still didn't move from his position on the bed.

He stared up at the ceiling—the ceiling you decorated with those tacky glow in the dark stars. The room was dimly lit from the warm-toned lamp that sat on your dresser, right next to your pile of anatomy textbooks.

You both listened to silence for a while, Hongjoong now sitting up after a few long moments. You found the dress you wanted to wear, and gave him a look.

“I’m gonna change, so if you want to see every part of me, you're welcome to stay.” you muttered, your fingertips on the waistband of your leggings. He looked at your hands, his eyes growing darker.

He raked his eyes all over your clothed body. You wondered about what he was thinking—did he want to rip the clothes off of you? Did he want to stay and watch?

Your curiosity ended when he stood up slowly. “Come help me with my outfit then. After you change, of course.”

A small fraction of your heart caved in as the door shut behind him, but the ache for him remained standing.

You slid off your clothes, wishing your hands were his.

—

You waltzed into the party, which was at your colleague, yeosang’s place. He was born with old money, and it showed through the exquisite taste of his home. He was nowhere to be found though—which was normal. He wasn't exactly sociable. The one who took it by the wheel was his best friend wooyoung, who seemed like he would embody a party.

“I didn't pregame enough,” Hongjoong gulped as he stared at the strangers around the home, some guzzling alcohol from bongs and others simply conversing with each other. On the other hand, there were a bunch of people blowing big puffs of hazy marijuana smoke, and others snorting shit that you never touched before.

Joong shivered. “Aren't you guys like…medical students?” He raised an eyebrow, his one eye covered with an eye patch and his other one wide. “You have to know that snorting cocaine is not beneficial to your health.”

You slapped his shoulder, feeling out of this world already. Maybe you shouldn't have slammed those shots. “Whatever. Lets go get fucked up so i don't have to remember this tomorrow,” you wrapped your arm in his, pulling him into the grand kitchen that had a chandelier dangling from the vaulted ceiling.

“I think you’re blown out enough, to be honest.”

You reached in the cooler to grab a bottle of some sort of alcohol you didn't recognize. “I’m guessing this shit is like millions of dollars,” you shrugged, handing it off to the pirate you called hongjoong.

He looked fine as hell in his own corset, brown leather wrapping around that thin waist of his. He had on a half-unbuttoned white button down, pulled up at the elbows. His pants were tight, leaving your mind wandering back to earlier when your hips bucked against his. His rusty hair was hidden under a bandana that matched your dress, with flakes of greens and dustings of gold.

“y/n? Hello?” he snapped his fingers in front of your face, his one eye piercing into yours. “You zoned out for a minute.”

“Ah, oh sorry,” you sighed, looking down at your own outfit. Your dress was flowy, but only reached about mid-thigh, showing leg and tits at the same time. Your legs were covered in fishnets, and you noticed many partygoers staring at them.

You reached into the cooler to grab yourself a drink, guzzling it like water. Hongjoong watched, and then did the same. You both pulled away at the same time, expressions matching like twins as you scrunched your eyebrows.

“Thats strong as fuck,” he hissed, but still drank the rest of the bottle since thats what you were doing. His eyes locked on you as you finished the last drop, and you reached for another. “Yo, slow down. You downed like five shots of vodka earlier.”

You rolled your eyes, finally feeling like yourself. You loved the feeling of being drunk—you felt like you could finally be the person you were under the surface. The person without anxiety. The person who didn't have to hide how to feel.

“You know,” you hummed, setting down the second bottle onto the gold counter. You approached him, your hands finding the collar of his unbuttoned shirt. You watched him swallow hard, his Adam's apple bobbing—you wanted to lick it. “Did I ever tell you how hot you are?”

Hongjoong’s eyes—eye— widened at your words, and set his hands on your elbows to pull you off of him. “You’re obliterated and we weren't even here for five minutes.”

“I’m not,” you rolled your eyes, pulling out of his grip and grabbing his arms now.

He didn't even get to say what he wanted to say as the skyscraper himself came up to you, bending his head down slightly to see if it was you.

“y/n?” His tone of voice was smooth and cool, your name rolling off his tongue with ease.

“Oh!” you exclaimed, moving your attention away from hongjoong. “Skyscraper!”

He laughed, looking from you to hongjoong with a confused glance. “She must be drunk, she’s usually quiet at work,” yunho said to hongjoong, not expecting the glare of death to radiate from his single eye.

“Oh no, she’s loud and obnoxious at home,” Hongjoong growled, reaching out to steady you.

The tall vampire tilted his head at the pirate, a smirk on those full lips. “Home?” he inquired, looking at you with that same smirk. You glanced up at him with a smile, not purposely ignoring your roommate. You were just a teensy bit drunk—call it tipsy—and you were fascinated with the red contacts in Yunho's eyes.

“Did you change your eye color?” you asked him in all seriousness, looking over at the cooler filled with alcohol with longingness. Hongjoong scoffed at your words, and couldn't stop you as you reached out to touch Yunho's face, which remained in a smirk as your fingertips brushed against his skin. “Even your skin is sparkly.”

“You never answered me,” he hummed lowly, hongjoong feeling like the third wheel now. The vampire leaned down towards your face, a lustful smile on his lips. “About that date?”

Hongjoong had enough. He muttered a goodbye, but you weren't able to hear it.

“Hmmm…” you clicked your tongue, tapping your chin slowly. “I’m sorry, count dracula. I have someone in my heart already,” you proudly proclaimed.

He smiled despite the rejection, his white teeth bright under the dim lighting. “I’m guessing it’s that one-eyed pirate, hm?” he asked, but he knew the answer.

“Yep. even though he’s a little bitch sometimes,” you bowed to him then, lifting your gaze to meet his red eyes. “Sorry again.”

He nodded with a smirk. “Well your pirate just ran off somewhere, so you better go find him before he thinks something different.”

You might have been a bit out of it, but you knew enough that yunho was a good sport. He walked away before you could say anything else, leaving you all alone in a sea of people. You recognized some faces, like wooyoung and some guy named yeonjun from the general surgery department who hit on you during a surgical lesson. You surveyed the scene, meeting eyes with some random men who kept looking even when you moved your gaze.

You grabbed another drink from the cooler, flipping the cap off and dumping its contents into your mouth. After the rush of warmth hit your body, you pushed through the bodies of people in search of your person.

“Anyone see another pirate?” you yelled to no one in particular. “He has orange hair and a pretty face. Has one eye and—Oh, he’s kinda short too. Like a little leprechaun.”

Now you were just blabbing into nothingness as your vision split. You know damn well your alcohol tolerance was scarily low, but you still got yourself fucked up to the point of no coming back.

You weren't sure where you were going, but you found yourself outside now, behind the extravagant mansion. You stood on the patio, shivering from the lack of clothing and cool autumn air.

You looked out towards the yard, intricately covered in plants and flowers. If you were sober, you’d call it a garden. For now, it was just a pile of vegetation.

“Joongie! You yelled loudly, as if he was going to suddenly fly out of the bushes to greet you. There was no one around—not even a bug. “Joong? Pirate king? Captain—”

“You’re too loud,” his sweet voice filled your eardrums, but it sounded dull—like he was irritated. “Why don't you go entertain that vampire?”

“Because…” you drawled out, turning towards him in the ocean of flowers. You stood in the middle of a surreal garden, but it was too dark to see the colors. There was a small lamppost above you, only coloring a quarter of the flowers in your view. “Because I want my pirate.”

His eye studied you for a moment, and then he sighed, leaning up against the post. “Y/n, I—”

“Shh,” you whispered, drunkenly leaning up against him, unable to tear your drunken eyes from his lips. “You have something on your lip,” you hummed, the pads of your fingers brushing against his soft lips. There was nothing there; you just wanted to touch them.

“ah-ah-Okay, I think you got it—”

“ —I want to kiss you,” you whined, crushing your head against his chest. You heard his heart race as you touched him. “I want to kiss you so bad.”

He stiffened underneath you, his arms at his sides as you held onto him. “You're drunk.”

“I know, but I want to kiss you even when I’m sober,” you lifted your head up, frowning when you only saw one eye. You brushed your fingers against the soft skin of his face, gripping onto the eye-patch softly. “And I want to see your pretty eyes.”

He kept quiet and still, letting you lift the eye-patch over his head, your hazy gaze meeting his starstruck one. Your hand didn't leave his face even after the patch was gone, and he just stood there with all the love in the world in his gaze.

You leaned forward, slowly, carefully, and met your lips with his. You gripped his shirt, your knuckles turning white and your eyes shut tight. He finally snaked an arm around your waist, parting your mouth open with his own. He kissed you hungrily, as if he couldn't hold back even if he wanted to. It felt like ecstasy, two worlds colliding. You now felt like you could tell the colors of the flowers—you felt like you could do anything.

And once he gripped the back of your head to deepen the kiss, you woke up drenched in more than sweat, your clothes missing and your hair like a halo around your head.

What the fuck?

—

Was it all a dream? Did you even go to that party? Did you…did you even get to kiss Hongjoong?

You looked under the covers to see the same underwear you put on before the party—paired with the matching bra. You felt drenched to your core, dreaming about something—

“You're awake,” hongjoong gave you a weird glance as he walked into your room to toss you a hoodie of his. “Put this on.”

“Where are my clothes?” you asked with an eyebrow raised. “Did we…”

He stopped in his tracks, looking at you like a deer in headlights. “Did we what? Fuck?” he scoffed, turning away to walk out of your room. “No. and I took your clothes off because you threw up all over them.”

“So, did we actually go to the party?” you barely spoke, gripping the blanket tightly in your hands. “I had this weird dream…”

He swallowed hard and nodded, turning back to you but not meeting your eyes. “Yeah, we went.”

So you blacked out? Or was your dream possibly real?

He left the room then, leaving you all alone in a mess of yourself—and your thoughts.

After a bit of time wallowing in your own self-pity, you managed to leave your comfortable hiding spot you called a room to go downstairs, where hongjoong had a bowl of hangover soup ready for you on the table. He was nowhere to be seen, though, so you assumed he was out doing something or in his little makeshift studio.

Telling yourself it was all a dream so you wouldn't get your hopes up, you plopped down onto the chair to eat. You stared down at the soup, swirling it around with the spoon like you’ve never seen it before, your mind everywhere else but the idea of eating.

Eventually you raised the spoon to your mouth, but the thoughts of hongjoong didn't subside. He was the reason you wanted to keep on living in this god-forsaken world, and you couldn't risk the possibility of ruining your friendship. You decided to not speak of your dream, or even express your feelings, for the sake of keeping him by your side.

After you finished your breakfast, you tip-toed through the creaky floors to peek and see if Joong was in his hideout. As soon as you saw the rush of orange hair, you smiled, and left him alone. Pumpkin was staring at you through the glass window, lying comfortably on the plush carpet he had.

You walked away then, tossing on your jacket and a pair of shoes, and made your way to the convenience store around the corner. You didn't want to interrupt Hongjoong’s focus just to tell him that you wanted some banana milk.

You left him in peace, not knowing that he was going to worry about where you went.

—

You walked slowly towards your townhouse, watching the leaves land on the sidewalk. Some leaves even left imprints on the pavement, greenish-hues as the remnant of when they once lived.

Halloween was right around the corner. The party was over. You kissed the love of your life—in a dream, of course. It seemed like the world was moving so fast, as if you had no time to hold on as it moved.

You swung the door open, finding hongjoong in panic mode, his hand in his hair and the other one gripping his phone.

Your eyes widened. “Joong?” you tilted your head, slipping off your shoes before moving further. “Everything alright?”

He let out a sigh of relief, dropping his hands to his sides. “I didn't know where you went. You didn't answer your phone.”

You frowned, patting the pockets of your hoodie—hongjoongs hoodie. “Oh? I must've forgotten it.”

He scoffed as you walked past him to reach the fridge. You emptied the bag, putting the banana milk into the fridge and pulling out the cheap, single rose the store had at the register.

“You don't know how worried I was,” he groaned, rubbing his eyes in irritation. “You can't just leave without saying anything, I thought you were kidnapped.”

You chuckled softly, smiling to yourself that he cared. The smile began to drop, though, as you began to think it was only platonic—and that's all it will ever be.

You turned around to face him, a forced smile on your face. “Here,” you said, handing him the nearly-dead red rose that had a slightly bent stem.

He looked down at the token of affection, confusion washing over his features. “A r-rose?” he stuttered slightly, eyes meeting yours. “For me?”

“Mhm,” you nodded, taking a step closer to him.

“Why?” he inquired, his eyes searching yours for any type of answer.

You gathered what you wanted to say, swallowing hard. “Because you're my best friend. I never want to lose our friendship.”

You saw his hesitation then. It was as if you said something hurtful, but all you spoke was the truth. He let out a little laugh, and reached out to grab the decaying flower.

His fingers brushed against yours, sending chills down your spine. The minute your skin made contact with his, you replayed the kiss you shared in dreamland, hoping that if you kept thinking about it, it would come true.

“Ah, Best friend…” he smiled—almost sadly—and inspected the rose. “Thank you.”

You sniffed, feeling like you just ruined something. But there was nothing there to begin with. You nodded, and turned on your heels.

“I uh, I’m going out then,” he spoke up, his hands feeling the petals.

You stopped, looking down at your bare feet. “Oh really? Where?”

He paused. “With friends.”

You nodded, but didn't turn around. “Have fun.”

He didn't say anything else, and just let you trudge up the stairs. Your heart felt like it was about to crumble, and without reason. Nothing changed, nothing was broken. You said the truth, he told you he was going out. A typical day in your household.

So why did it feel like your world just ended?

—

Days fly by. Hongjoong ended up coming home the next morning that day, and without a word, he locked himself up in his studio.

It was halloween. You felt like it was pointless now, unable to connect to your hongjoong like you never had a connection in the first place. As if you didn't spend every waking moment together. Birthdays, holidays.

You stood in front of your full length mirror, critiquing every single angle of your body. You knew deep down you were beautiful; some days you just saw everything wrong all at once. You stood there, lost, alone, and still thinking of hongjoong like he was living in your mind.

And one day, you’ll watch hongjoong leave, causing life to lose all its meaning.

You sighed, pulling your jeans up slightly to button them. You slid a t-shirt over your bra, feeling like you waited for this day for nothing. You felt numb—like the anticipation was worth nothing. You slid on a pair of festive socks, finally getting your bare feet off the cold, wooden floors.

It was still early—not even noon. Usually you’d be at work and joong would be at school, but you were both home, locked away in your rooms, acting like you don't exist. Well, you didn't want it to play out this way—you wanted to run into his arms, tell him you love him, and bury him in kisses in the halloween haze.

You had no plans, despite it being the night of the year for you. The party was over, your heart was aching, and you felt like you could crumble to the ground like an old building. It was just one of those days that you didn't feel like yourself—and what better time than the night you're supposed to be anything but true.

After grabbing a hat to keep your ears warm, you waltzed your way down the hallway, only to cause hongjoong to peek out of his doorway. He looked tired.

“Where are you going?” he asked you softly, his voice scratching your brain just right.

You didn't realize you were picking at your fingers until he looked down at them. You put your hands at your sides, and looked up at him. “To go get candy for the tick-or-treaters tonight,” you hummed as a response, staring into his gaze, getting lost in it for a moment too long.

He looked at your outfit, his eyes examining you the same way you looked at yourself—however, he wasn't critiquing. He was admiring. No matter what you wore, he looked at you like you were made of gold.

He nodded, tearing his gaze away from your eyes. “Okay.”

You turned around after it felt too awkward, feeling as though something was ruining your relationship. There was no warmth, no comfort. It all happened after you gave him that rose, holding back your feelings like he held back his tears.

Time passed like the world was spinning too fast, and you went on with your day as if it was any other day.

When you came back from the store, you poured the candy into a cute little serving bowl, stealing a chocolate bar like you were a kid again. A part of your soul ached as you stared down at the bowl, thinking about the days when you were the one grabbing the handfuls and eating too much candy. Back to the time when life was simple.

Hongjoong was in his studio, and you heard the dull vibrations of his voice. He was singing like he always did, but this time, you wanted him to sing for you.

You ignored it as best as you could and forced yourself to dress up in a slightly more modest pirate outfit, and after the sun began to set, you found yourself sitting outside on your porch alone. Bundled up in a blanket and a mug of hot tea in your hand, you waited patiently for the kids to come around for the candy.

Sirens blared loudly, an ambulance passing the street in front of you. You watched as the bright reds and whites reflected off the windows of the houses around you, and how the wind from it knocked more leaves to fall to their death.

You watched them crumble to the ground in front of you, small little feet stepping on them as they walked by your home. One little girl came up to you, her little shoes crunching the decaying life underneath them, and you looked up to her from your seated position.

“Trick or treat?” she asked you, her face covered in paint and her smile as bright as can be.

“Take a handful,” you murmured, forcing a smile onto your pirate persona. She smiled at you and tossed the candy into her bag, and you were too distracted to hear the door open behind you. The only sign was the brightened look on the girl’s face as she looked behind you.

“Another pirate?” she mumbled, dimples showing through her scarecrow face paint. “Is he your boyfriend?”

You hesitated, but shook your head. “Oh, no. He's just my friend.”

Hongjoong forced out a chuckle, and came up to sit next to you. “Happy Halloween,” he smiled, his leg bumping yours. You didn't shy away, but you didn't move any closer.

As the girl left, you sat in silence with hongjoong for what felt like ages. You smelled alcohol on his breath, wearing his mask like normal. You were dying to know his true feelings about everything. You lived with him for years, but yet, he knew everything about you and you knew very little about him.

A few more kids stopped, grabbed some candy, and left. As if the time flew by once again, the bowl was empty, and so was your heart.

“I have to go use the bathroom,” you let him know as you stood up. He looked from you to the empty bowl, but made no effort to come inside with you.

“Okay,” he nodded, not looking in your direction. You left his presence, needing some air.

You walked towards the bathroom that was past his studio until you noticed the door open. Pumpkin was sitting on a pile of papers, and knowing how finicky your hongjoong was, you quickly entered the sacred grounds to get the cat off the pile. With your luck, you startled pumpkin, causing her to let out a scared yelp and leap off the pile, knocking over all the sheets at once.

You let out a gasp, followed by a groan, as you quickly tried to pick up the papers. That is, until you came across some lyrics of what it looked like a song…

A song for a lover?

It was titled, halloween, and as your eyes ran across the words on the page, a few stood out. Words like roommate, coffee, watching movies, hugs, dinner, and home. His home was her. His home was with her, his love was for her.

You were his…home? His love?

“Put that down,” Hongjoong growled behind you, but his tone of voice wasn't harsh—it was defeated. “It’s nothing special.”

“I think otherwise, joong,” you murmured softly, still reading the lyrics as they made your heart race. “Is this about…me?”

He came up beside you, his face right next to yours. He ripped the paper out of your hands and held it behind his back as you turned to him. “Yeah,” he breathed, but shook his head. “But it means nothing now, okay? So don't misunderstand—”

“Can you sing it for me?”

He stared at you, wide eyed. You both were in your pirate garb, his one eye covered by the eye-patch. You thought back to your dream of lifting it up, kissing him, holding onto him….

He didn't say much. He just stared for a while, unsure about your motives. Clearly you made it known that he was just a friend to you, but little did he know that you wanted everything under the sun with him.

He sighed, and sat down onto his bench in front of the keyboard. As his painted fingers slid across the keys, he started to sing to the lyrics that were meant for you. He bled through the words, telling the story of you and him, sharing a space, and putting on masks. It was halloween, the song was called halloween, and he sang with all the love in the world to you.

It had to be a dream. There was no way he was sitting in front of you, tipsy, and proclaiming his years-long love for you through a song. It was unreal, and when he stopped singing and turned to you, you saw the concern drip off his face as he looked at your expression.

He swallowed hard, standing up to face you. “Listen, don't think much of it. Like I said, it’s worthless now and—”

You gripped the back of his head and kissed him, holding him tightly as he stood stoically. After a few moments, you pulled away, leaving his lips a mess of red from your lipstick. “I–I’m sorry. That was a little—”

He took a step forward, like you were his prey. Gripping your arm, he pulled you to him, his lips on yours with no spare of a glance. Your hands found their home in his hair, gently sliding off his eye patch with your fingers. You kissed each other as if it was your last—as if this would only last the night.

You pulled back, resting your forehead on his as his hot breath kissed your features.

“I…what does this make us?” you gulped, counting his breaths, happy that he was living at the same time as you. “Its…its halloween…we can be, you know,” you got distracted as his gentle hands caressed your arm. “We can be anything.”

He smiled at you, love dripping from his gaze. He kept his hold tight on you, and mumbled his answer into your head.

“I’ll be whatever you want,” he breathed into you, and you found yourself melting into his hold.

His lips, his hands, his breath—everything collided. Two became one once again as he kissed you, kissed you so hard that you lost your breath. Your hands meshed within the rust of his hair, your fingertips painted in orange. His tongue met the roof of your mouth the same way your hands gripped at him, repeating his words over and over in your mind.

Whatever you want…

I’ll be whatever you want…

He lifted you up then, holding onto your body tightly to set you onto his desk, knocking off all his music sheets and crumbled up papers. His finger nails pierced against the bare skin of your thighs, his lips now on your neck as you fiddled with the buttons on his shirt.

He let out a moan as your fingers grazed his chest, finally pulling his shirt off his body to admire him. You let out a content sigh, wanting to taste the soju on his lips. Not yet, though, as his hands gripped the corset you were wearing, untying the laces and ripping it off your body, slightly rough but his touch was smooth.

You sat on his desk, ready for him to claim you as his own. Even if it was just for the night, you weren't thinking long term as his strong arms pulled your dress right over your head, leaving you only in your underwear.

“My god, I always wanted to do that,” he groaned, his lips meeting your neck as his hands trailed down your stomach to meet the waistband of your underwear. As his fingers slipped underneath the fabric, you arched your back into his touch.

“You like that, huh?” he whispered in your ear as you looked down at the bulge of his pants, seizing the opportunity to get him flustered. “You turn me the fuck on, you have no idea, y/n.”

Your hands brushed his erection, a sinister smile on hongjoongs pained face. He smacked his head into yours, his teeth bright white as he showed them. “Careful, baby. I’ve been waiting years to fuck you. I don't want it to end too quick.”

“Years?” you breathed into his lips your head tilted up as his hand found its home and started to slide the underwear down your hips.

He didn't answer. What he did do was pull them down your legs, and then as soon as they were off, he kneeled down onto the ground in front of you, treating you like a peasant would treat his goddess. His lips met your heat, the warmth from his breath stirring your mind into mush. You gripped his russet hair, fisting it as his tongue slipped inside you. You hissed, throwing your head back as you saw stars.

He worked magic, his lips becoming something you never wanted to lose. Eventually, he found his place above you, his fingers tilting your head back to look up at him. His hands reached out to pull your bra off, giving you a look of affirmation before gently lifting it over your head.

He stood in front of you, vulnerability showing through like sunlight through a window. He was your sun—your warmth—your love.

No words were spoken after that. You unbuttoned his pants while he kissed your lips, entangled in each other's love and infatuation. He carried you up the steps then, gently setting you down onto his bed, the creak of the mattress springs underneath you. He kissed your forehead, your nose, your temple, your lips, and trailed all the way to your breasts, admiring them like they were all he dreamed about—you were all he dreamed about.

You looked into his stare, his dark brown eyes above yours. You felt the heat of his body, and every breath he took. You wanted to count his breaths every day for the rest of your life until they stopped. You wanted to entangle yourself into his soul, spinning yourself around his finger like the red string of fate.

You wanted to make love to him every night, crawl into his embrace like he was the only human on earth. He was like a warm fireplace on a cold winter day, the fall of snow during spring. And after all, at this moment as your eyes met before he entered you, his lips moved, your senses heightened as he spoke.

“I love you,” he hummed, his eyes sparkling in the dark. You were his source of light.

After those words, he collapsed into you, his hips meeting yours and your lips meshing together. He didn't give you a chance to respond—maybe he was scared of rejection. He had nothing to worry about, and as he made love to you, you ran your hands through his hair to keep it out of his eyes.

You moaned as he rhythmically crashed into you, his lips parted and his arms tightened. You wrapped your legs around his thin waist, his upper body crashing into yours, forehead to forehead, lips to lips, chest to chest, hearts beating the same beat. His hands found your breasts, grabbing them as if they would break under his touch. He trailed his lips down your neck to your chest, kissing you sensually, tastefully, treating you like a work of art.

Your vision became hazy as you reached your high, and after he noticed your climax, he smiled to himself, letting out a moan. “Good girl,” he praised, and then flipped you over onto your stomach with a groan. You positioned yourself for him, back arched as his fingertips glided against your skin. His hands ran down your sides, his hips meeting your ass as he gripped it with his hands, entering you once again like it was his home.

“I want this every day,” he pushed into you, his breaths hitting the back of your neck, causing you to tumble onto the bed, unable to hold yourself up from his strength. “Every night. For the rest of my life, I want you.”

You wanted to cry out of happiness. You wanted to turn around and tell him you want it too, that you’ve loved him since that one day he held you. He was all you ever wanted; ever needed.

He fucked you, made love to you, as if it was the last time. His body clashed into yours, letting out the most beautiful moans. He was born to be yours, you were born to be his. Your bodies fit like pieces of a puzzle, and as he reached his ending, you gripped onto the pillow underneath you, crying out as he came into you, him spilling his love for you, through words and actions.

He breathed and breathed and breathed, his body collapsing onto yours, afraid to crush you. He pulled out of you slowly, finding his spot next to you on his bed. Your eyes met, then your lips, and then your love.

“I love you, too,” you smiled at him, your eyes blurry as his beauty took over. His hair was stuck to his forehead from all of his sweat, and you reached out to brush it behind his ears.

He was breathing heavily, staring into your eyes like they were the most beautiful color he’s ever seen. To you, it might be bland. To him—they were the only eyes that mattered. The only window he wanted to look through.

His arms snaked over your naked body, his touch feeling like ecstacy. You fell asleep deeply for the first time in ages, his soft voice humming you to sleep as the moon began to fall.

—

The next morning was just like any other. You woke up alone, no Hongjoong in sight, but the warm, delicious smell of breakfast reminded you that it was all real. You looked down, no clothes, no underwear, just you. The sheets were crumbled all messily, your heart feeling just the same.

You smiled after looking around, noticing little things around his room that just made sense. Everything about him made you feel butterflies.

You made your way down the stairs after tossing on one of hongjoong’s shirts, hoping to stir something up with him. It almost feels unreal with the way you proclaimed your love so quickly, and after all this time of hiding your feelings, it was now all out in the open.

The minute you reached the kitchen, you found hongjoong sitting in the chair next to a plate of food meant for you. He sat with his legs crossed and his eyes on you. His pretty hair was messy, and his lips were curled up in a smirk.

You smiled at him shyly.

“Oh no,” he shook his head at you, crossing his arms over his chest. He looked you up and down, smirking even more as he noticed the shirt that covered your upper body. You decided against pants, only coming out in your underwear and his shirt. “Don't go all shy on me after last night. And not when you look like…this.”

You cautiously walked towards him, and the minute you reached him, he tugged you into his lap, holding you with a look of admiration.

“About last night—”

“If you're going to say it was a mistake, I will politely decline, angel,” he kissed your lips, lingering just a moment too long. It was blissful, despite your morning breath. “I need you. I can't be without you.”

I need you…

Did anyone need you? Was he the first person to actually want you?

You smiled sadly, but his expression made you feel comfortable. “I was just going to say that I enjoyed it,” you hummed, nodding. He chuckled at that, his arms tightening around your waist.

“I’m sorry I couldn't tell you sooner. About my feelings, I mean,” I babbled on, leaning his head onto you. “I got a little jealous with Yunho, and I couldn't stand the idea of you with someone other than me. And when you kissed me at the party, I got worried that you only made a drunken mistake—”

“Wait,” you raised your eyebrows, pulling back to look at him. “I actually kissed you at the party? I thought I dreamt that…” you spoke softly, subconsciously lifting your hand to your lips.

Hongjoong stared up at you for a moment and then smiled. “Ah, yeah. But you were so out of it. You passed out on my shoulder right after you made out with me.”

Your eyes widened. “Oh my god, I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. “No, no. It's okay,” he swallowed, looking a bit nervous. “I…want to take care of you when you're drunk, and when you're sick, and when you're depressed. I want to hold you while you have your panic attacks—even though I wish I could take them all away.”

You sat and listened, watching the way his eyes bounced around the room as the food got cold. It wasn't even a thought in your mind as he told you he loved you without even saying the three words.

“I want to go through everything with you. Good, bad, whatever. As long as it's with you,” his eyes met yours then. “And as long as I can kiss you whenever.”

You picked apart his expression—his eyes were glassy and his lips were parted. His smile was a bit worrisome, as if he wasn't sure you wanted what he did. You smiled then, and gave him a kiss on the forehead.

“I’ll be expecting showers of kisses,” you smirked, kissing his lips like they were made for you. “And shower sex. I love shower sex.”

He laughed musically, his voice always so soothing to you. You knew that your time in this house was ending, as this was the last year before graduation. You weren't sure what time had planned for you, but you hoped it was him.

There’s a time for everything. Your time with hongjoong was predetermined by fate. He was your soulmate if they existed. He was your sun, your moon, your universe. You spun around him like the moon to its earth, orbiting his existence like it was your destiny.

—

two years later,

Halloween Night

You stood on the steps of the townhouse, your phone clutched tight in your hands and a bag of candy in the other. Your heart ached the same way your feet did from all your running around at the hospital, your mind falling apart at its seam.

You stared at the red door, decorated with a festive autumnal wreath with the letters of your names.

You pushed through the door, your senses in overdrive as the smell of apples took over as a candle burned on the table. Sitting next to it was pumpkin, staring at the flame, and then at you, letting out a meow.

It was two years since you got with hongjoong. Two years before you graduated. Two years before you got swamped in work, having a hard time balancing work and romance.

You and hongjoong kept the house, deciding it was your home. You had nowhere else to go if he wasn't with you, and you graduated in love and in bliss.

Two years later, a mess of love and homemade meals, watching movies together, commuting together, sleeping together, you had a ring on your finger, a permanent mark of your love that would last forever.

You weren't planning anything—you let life take the reins. The love of your life stood in the living room, in his hands was a single rose from the mini mart—the same type of shitty rose you bought for him to ruin your relationship. Clearly it failed, as he stood, love in his eyes and a smile on his lips.

“Hi, angel,” he whispered, his hair no longer orange. It was his natural black, grown out and curled around his ears. He was beautiful in every way, a knight in shining armor, holding out a decaying rose as the leaves fell from the trees beyond the window. “Happy two years.”

You scoffed, setting down the bag of candy onto the table next to pumpkin. “A rose?”

“Mhm,” he murmured, smiling brightly.

“Why?” you inquired jokingly, walking closer to him.

He smiled prettily, his heart upon his sleeve. You watched him study you, look at every part of you. He loved you dearly, and as did you. You got a bit of butterflies from the deja vu, lost in the ocean of his eyes and drowning in the sea of his love.

He held out the rose.

“Because you're the love of my life.”

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