#established relationship

You blinked down slowly, the world swimming into focus in patches of white and blue. Hospital room, beeping machines, and— oh.

There was a man sitting beside your bed. A really really pretty man. Dark hair, sharp jaw, shoulders that looked like they were personally crafted by Michelangelo. And his eyes, of the most ridiculous shade of blue you've ever seen.

"Hi," you breathed, the word slurring slightly. "Are you real?"

The pretty man's lips twitched into a smile. "Yeah, sweetheart, I'm real. How you feeling?"

"Floaty," you admitted, trying to lift your hand but it felt like it weighted a thousand pounds. "Everything's… soft. Are you a nurse? You're the prettiest nurse I've ever seen."

He laughed and the sound made your fuzzy brain light up. "I'm not a nurse, baby. I'm Bucky, your boyfriend."

You squinted at him suspiciously. "No."

"No?"

"No," you said firmly. "Because if you were my boyfriend I'd definitely remember. I would remember so hard you'd be all I ever thought about. I'd be insufferable about it."

"You're insufferable about it," he said, grinning now. He reached out and took your hands, his thumb stroking over your knuckles. One hand was warm, the other was cool metal. "You literally have a folder on your phone called 'Bucky being pretty' with like three hundred photos in it."

Your eyes went wide. "I do?"

"Yes, you do."

"…can I see?"

"After you're more awake." He was trying so hard not to laugh. "The nurse said you'd be loopy for a bit."

"I'm not loopy," you insisted, then immediately contradicted yourself by reaching up to poke his face. "You're loopy. Your face is loopy. Too pretty, not fair." Your finger booped his nose. "Boop."

Bucky caught your hand before you could poke him again, pressing a kiss to your palm. The gesture was so tender it made your drugged heart skip. "You tell me that a lot."

"Well, it is true." You tried to sit up and failed spectacularly. Bucky immediately stood up, his hands gentle as he helped adjust your pillows. "Woah, you're really tall too. How tall are you? Like eight feet?"

"Just six feet, baby."

"That's so many feet." You grabbed at his jacket as he tried to sit back down. "Wait, come back. I need to look at you more."

"I'm right here." But he stayed standing, letting you stare up at him with unbashed wonder.

"Your eyes are blue," you announced, like you'd discovered something groundbreaking.

"They are."

"Like… aggresively blue. Who gave you permission to have eyes that blue? That's illegal, you should be arrested." You gasped suddenly. "Wait, are you a criminal? Is that why you're in the hospital? Are you on the run?"

"I'm not on the run, I'm here because my girlfriend had surgery and I wanted to take care of her and make sure she was okay."

You processed this slowly, then after a minute of silence, you said: "Your girlfriend is so lucky."

"Yeah?" His smile was soft, affectionate in a way that made your chest warm even through the drug haze.

"Yeah. I hope she knows how lucky she is, if I had a boyfriend that looked like you—" you sighed dreamily. "I'd never let you leave, I'd just stare at you all day. I'd cancel plans, I'd call in sick to work 'sorry, can't come in, too busy looking at my boyfriend's face."

Bucky actually had to cover his mouth to hide his laughter. "That so?"

"Mmhmm…" You tried to focus on him but everything kept going a little fuzzy at the edged. "What's your girlfriend like? Is she pretty? She's probably pretty, you seem like you have good taste."

"She's beautiful," he said quietly. "Smartest person I know, funny, brave as hell, a little reckless sometimes, which gives me heart attacks. But yeah, she's pretty perfect."

Your drugged brain felt emotions about this that you couldn't quite name. "Wow, you really love her."

"More than anything."

"That's…" your eyes were getting misty. "That's so nice, everyone should be loved like that. I wanna be loved like that." You looked up at him with the saddest eyes. "Do you think anyone will ever love me like that?"

Bucky's expression did something complicated. He sat back down on the edge of your bed, taking both of your hands in his. "Baby… sweetheart, I'm talking about you. You're my girlfriend."

You blinked slowly. "…I am?"

"Yes."

"But…" You looked down at your hands, then back up at his face. "But you're so pretty."

"So are you."

"And nice, you seem really nice."

"You're nicer."

"And you have good hair." You reached up to touch it and he let you, patient as a saint while your clumsy fingers carded through the strands."It's so soft, do you condition? What's your routine? I need your routine."

"You bought me the conditioner," he said, amused. "You did a whole presentation about hair care."

"I did?" You perked up. "Was it good? Did I use a PowerPoint?"

"It was very thorough, had charts and everything."

"Past me is so smart." Your hand dropped from his hair to his face, cupping his cheek. Your thumb traced his cheekbone, then down to his jaw. "You have a really good bone structure, like… really good. Are you a model?"

"Not a model."

"You should be, you'd be great at it. You'd just stand there being pretty and everyone would throw money at you." You gasped dramatically. "Do you even have a job?"

"I'm an Avenger."

Your jaw dropped. "Like… the superheroes?"

"Yep."

"Oh my god, you're a superhero! A pretty superhero." You looked at him with renewed awe. "What's your power? Is it being pretty? Because that should count."

He was fully grinning now. "I've got a vibranium arm. Super soldier serum."

"Can I see the arm?"

Bucky glanced at the door, then shrugged off his jacket and rolled up his sleeve, revealing the black and gold vibranium arm. Your drugged gasp was deeply gratifying.

"That's so cool!" You grabbed at it, running your fingers over the plates. "It's pretty. You're pretty. Everything about you it's pretty… do you sparkle in the sunlight?"

"That's vampires, baby."

"Are you a vampire?"

"No."

"Are you sure? Because you look like you could be a vampire. A really hot vampire." You squinted at him. "Smile, let me see your teeth."

He humored you, smiling wide. You peered at his teeth very seriously. "Okay not a vampire, just a regular pretty person." You seemed satisfied with his conclusion. "Can I tell you a secret?"

"Always."

You leaned in conspiratorially, nearly falling out of the bed. Bucky caught you easily, steadying you. "I think I have a crush on you."

"Do you now?"

"The biggest crush. An embarrassing crush." You bit your lip. "But you have a girlfriend so I shouldn't be saying this… that's not good etiquette, I apologize." You tried to look serious. "I respect your relationship, even though I'm dying inside.

"Noted," he was shaking with silent laughter now. "What if I told you that you're the girlfriend?"

"Then I'd say you're lying because there's no way—" you gestured vaguely at him. "—that someone who looks like that would date someone like me."

"And what's someone like you?"

"You know, regular, average… not a superhero. Probably have weird hobbies." You paused. "Do I have weird hobbies?"

"I don't thinks is weird, but you enjoy collecting vintage objects—"

"See? Boring."

"I think it's cute."

You stared at him. "Okay, but if we're actually dating—which I still don't believe—but IF we are, then I need to know some things…"

"Shoot."

"Have I kissed you?"

"Many times."

Your hand flew to your mouth. "Oh my god."

"Just yesterday you kissed me goodbye like five times because you kept forgetting things and having to come back inside."

"What else? What else have we done? Have we—" You lowered your voice to a whisper. "—held hands?"

"We live together."

The machine monitoring your heart started beeping faster. "We what?"

"We share an apartment… have for three months now. We meal prep on Sundays—"

"That's so domestic!" You clutched his hand tighter. "Oh my god, am I living my dream? Is this real life?"

"Very real life."

"Prove it. Tell me something only my boyfriend would know."

Bucky thought for a moment, his smile going soft. "You talk in your sleep, usually about work, but sometimes you just say random stuff. Last week you had a full conversation whether cats understand democracy. You also steal all the blankets and I have to burrito wrap you to get any covers. And when you're really tired, you make me play with your hair until you fall asleep."

Your eyes were getting watery again. "That sounds nice."

"It is nice, the best part of my day."

"Even the blanket stealing?"

"Even that."

A nurse peeked in, smiling at the scene. "How's our patient doing?"

"She's very high," Bucky said.

"I'm in love," you corrected, squeezing his hand. "With him, this pretty man. He says he's my boyfriend but I think he might be a hallucination because he's too perfect."

The nurse laughed. "He's been here since they brought you in, hasn't left your side."

"Really?" You looked up at Bucky with wonder.

"Really," he confirmed.

The nursed checked your vitals, adjusted your IV and gave you some ice chips to suck on. "The anesthesia should wear off in another hour or so. You'll probably be pretty tired though."

After she left, you went back to staring at Bucky. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Anything."

"If we're dating, can I kiss you?"

His smile could've powered the sun. "You don't have to ask for permission, sweetheart. But maybe wait until you're a little less loopy?"

"What if I forget? What if the drugs wear off and I forget that I'm allowed to kiss you and I just pine forever?"

"Then I'll remind you. Like I do every morning."

"Every morning," you repeated dreamily. "We have mornings together. Plural mornings."

"So many mornings." You yawned suddenly, the exhaustion hitting you. Bucky stood and adjusted your bed so you could lie back more comfortably. "Get some rest, baby."

"Will you stay?"

"I'm not going anywhere."

"Promise?"

"Promise." He settled back into the chair, but kept hold of your hand.

"Bucky?"

"Yeah?"

"When I wake up and I'm not high anymore, will you still be this pretty?"

He brought your joined hands up and kissed your knuckles, his eyes crinkling with tat smile you'd apparently been cataloging in a folder for months. "Guess you'll have to wait and see."

"Can't wait," you mumbled, eyes already drifting closed. "Gonna wake up with the prettiest boyfriend in the world."

"Get some sleep, sweetheart."

"Okay, but just so you know—" you forced your eyes open one more time to look at him. "—if we really are dating, then I'm the luckiest person alive."

"Funny, I was thinking the same thing."

You fell asleep with his hand in yours, the steady beep of the monitors, and a smile on your face.

Two hours later.

You woke up slowly, the fog clearing from your brain. Everything came back in pieces—the surgery, the recovery room, and oh god, Bucky. Your boyfriend Bucky. Who you'd apparently hit on while high.

He was still there, slouched in the in the uncomfortable hospital chair, scrolling through his phone. When he noticed you were awake, his whole face lit up.

"Hey," he said softly. "Welcome back, how you feeling?"

"Mortified," you croaked. "Please tell me I didn't say anything too embarrassing."

His grin was evil. "Define too embarrassing."

"Bucky—"

"You told me I should be arrested for having blue eyes. You asked if I sparkled in the sunlight. You said you had a crush on me and then apologized because you didn't want to disrespect my relationship."

You covered your face with both hands. "Oh my god."

"Oh and you called my face 'loopy'". He was definitely laughing now. "And you said you'd call in sick to work just to stare at me all day."

"I hate you."

"No you don't. You love me, you told me so multiple times, very emphatically." He stood and came to bed, gently pulling your hands away from your face. "For the record, I recorded about five minutes of it."

"You what?!"

"For posterity." His eyes were sparkling with mischief. "And for the next time you try to say I'm not pretty."

"I didn't—I don't—" You couldn't even form a defense. "You are pretty."

"So you keep telling me." He leaned down and kissed your forehead, then your nose, then your lips. "Feeling better?"

"Physically, yes. Emotionally, destroyed."

"Well the good news is the surgery went great. The bad news is I'm definitely showing that video at our wedding."

"Bucky!"

The attending that was kind to everyone who worked with you.

You, who was fair tempered. Humorous and light hearted. Direct when necessary.

Forthright whenever patients overstepped boundaries.

You were an aspiration to all the med students and interns that passed through the Pitt.

You had a tenderness to your approach. 

One they assumed had been garnered from your years being a mother to three. 

A fact that you loved to talk about when time allowed. Speaking sweetly about your three little sweethearts. 

There were your two girls, Frankie and Finn. Your two fraternal twin girls who were polar opposites to each other. Acting like day and night. 

Where one was sunshine incarnate, as the other was pensive as the glistening moonlight. 

But they tried their best to mimic one another despite not being identical. 

They were witty and intensely curious in their own way. Bright eyed and in your opinion behaved a lot like their father, opinionated and forthright. 

You also had your eldest son, Lenny. 

Considerate and kindhearted, who was often compared to your own self. He loved watching out for his younger sisters, helping guide them. 

Such as the best way to get out of trouble... 

They were the apples of your eye. 

And filled your heart with immense joy. It was clear you were overwhelmed by a happy home life. With a supportive husband by your side. 

One that, come to think of it, you’d never mentioned him by name?

Too busy rambling on about what your kids had gotten up to. Asking Cassie for advice every now and again, considering her son Harrison was a few years older. 

Hearing about your home life was always a little bit of a bright spot. And humorous as you retold stories of what they had gotten up to. 

Even if it was a little chaotic. You wouldn’t change them. 

You were thoughtful with everyone in the ER. Paying attention to their questions and concerns. 

Remembering little details. Asking about how they were. An open hand for if times became difficult or they simply needed an open ear. 

Lightening the mood when things became heavy. Or simply being by their side, quiet and reassuring. 

Though as it appeared to everyone else. 

The only person who didn’t afford your kindness. 

Was Park the Shark.

For one reason or another it appeared as though you and Park were sworn enemies. Always locked in a battle of wits every time you crossed paths. 

As you retorted dryly. 

Face plastered with a smugness that only seemed to appear as Park entered the ER. 

It was rare and only on occasion. Whenever he came down. Stern as he crossed the threshold into the trauma bays. Eyes analytical and observant. Straight to the point. You often gravitated towards him whenever he appeared. 

It was always a spectacle. 

If not at least a little satisfying to watch you go toe-to-toe with PTMC’s Shark. 

There was a feistiness that his presence seemed to elicit from you. 

As you muttered with folded arms, shaking your head as he’d respond with the bluntness of a rusted saw. 

“Oh, fuck off,” you’d huff. 

Clicking your tongue if he ever insulted a med student while in your presence, “Don’t be such a prick”

Shaking your head with a sarcastic quip, “Could you be any more tactless”

Passing phrases that you simply slipped into the conversation whenever the opportunity presented itself. 

Insults and retorts that made everyone hold their breaths. 

Lying in wait for Shark to retaliate. To shoot you a stone cold glare. Before ripping you a new one. 

But the retaliation never comes. 

No matter how harsh your retorts are. Or how many times you tell him to piss off. 

He only rolls his eyes. Simply biting his tongue in exasperation. Never once snapping at you. 

This isn’t to say you’re always abrasive towards him. Just most times. Enough times for everyone in the ER to believe you hated the man. 

And no one would blame you if you did. It just felt as though you didn’t really have a reason to. 

Park was never outright rude to you. Never dismissive towards you. If anything he seemed. Nice?

It was puzzling for many. 

Most swept the interactions under the rug. 

Simply passing it off as Shark knowing when he was beat. When it was best to let things slide. Knowing better than to attack you with his brusque nature. 

Never realising how your words lacked bite as you directed them to him. 

Only ever focusing on the content. And never the delivery. Or the glint in your eyes when you crossed paths. 

Until one day. 

Joy, the new med student, simply asks outright. Abrupt as Park finishes a consult, after you had once again thrown a quippy remark his way. 

“Aren’t you going to retaliate? Dr L/N literally just called you an asshole,” the question fell out of her. “You’ve yelled at me for less. Surely this goes against all of HR’s policies”

She had said the very words that were on everyone’s mind. 

The very question no one had ever dared broach before. 

Park simply raises a brow. Lips pulled taut, at her question. Letting out a huff. His eyes darted to meet yours. 

A deadpanned expression crossing his features. 

Is she serious?

While you bite your lip, holding back the laugh threatens to bubble out. Until it eventually succeeds, the laughter echoing brightly and freely around the room. 

Thankfully the patient before you was sedated. Otherwise who knows how unprofessional this would come across to them. 

The sound of laughter bubbling out of you, catches everyone in the room off guard. Freezing them in place. 

While Park only sighs, shaking his head as a small chuckle escapes him. 

Only furthering their confusion. 

They felt like they were having a stroke. 

Had the world turned on its head? What the fuck was happening right now?

The Park the Shark. 

Infamous for his steely, cold demeanor. 

Was laughing?

What had the world come to. 

Perhaps it was the apocalypse, the end of the world, aliens had finally decided to invade Earth…

All of which seemed far more likely than witnessing Shark laugh.  

Eventually you catch your breath, wheezing slightly as you muster out, “He has no right in telling me off, not when I birthed his three kids”

“You’re the one that wanted a big family,” He remarked. 

Your lip quirks into a knowing smirk, teasing and light hearted as you retorted, “I distinctly remember that being you who said that” 

All of the words that come from the two of you only leave the people in the room further left in a pitt of confusion. 

“What the fuck?” Santos had muttered beneath her breath. 

“He’s my husband” 

“She’s my wife” 

You had stated at the same time. As you add, brows furrowing in thought, “I’m sure I’ve mentioned him before?” 

“No you have not! We were not picturing Shark when you said your husband was considerate and kind?” 

You shrug, stifling your laugh. “He is considerate and kind when he wants to be” 

Blinking in realisation, turning to Park, “Also, did you remember to pick up Finn’s soccer cleats?” 

He nods, “Of course I did, they’re in the car for her”

“Good,” You nod with a bright smile, “Thank you”

“You know I’d do anything for you,” he murmurs, as you slide into the space beside him. Pressing a chaste kiss to the side of your head. 

You pat his back, catching his lips with yours as you lean up. Before clapping your hands, “Ok. Let’s not hold you up any further, I’ll see you later, handsome,” You winked. 

A quirk of his lips, as they curve into a smile. Fond. Appreciative. 

“Love you” 

As the others around you murmur. 

“I think I preferred when they hated each other,” Santos commented.  

While Whitaker responded, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose, “I feel like my head is about to combust” 

Moving back through the ER, as the trauma room is cleared. You are trailed behind by a flock of med students and nurses, all wanting to know how it was possible that you. 

You, who was always so considerate and kind hearted. 

Was married to Park the Shark?

It made no sense to them. 

“How long have you been married?” Mohan asked. 

While Princess added, “Forget that, how long have you been together?” 

You replied as you moved to complete some charting, “Married for 9 years, almost 10 next month” pulling out the chain that always hung around your neck, tucked beneath your scrubs. As a pair of rings dip low pulling the chain down, one of which had a beautiful light blue diamond sparkling brightly. “We’ve known each other for well over 15 years, met through some mutual friends from med school” 

“Has he always been like this?-” Javadi begins, failing to reach an apt description for Park. 

“Like?” you raised a brow. 

“So Shark like?” Jesse interjected, as Javadi snapped her fingers in agreement with the description. 

“I mean kind of. But only as menacing as a whale shark to me,” you grin. 

He had been brash when you first met. But the sharpness of his attitude had eroded and softened over time. You wouldn’t be with him otherwise. 

And he knew that if he didn’t change. 

You might’ve slipped from his grasp. 

“So you have three kids together?” Langdon questions. Also intrigued by the news of your relationship. 

Nodding with prideful glee, “Lenny, Frankie and Finn”

“Finn?” Cassie grinned, “That doesn’t have anything to do with the fact that Park’s nicknamed Shark does it?”

“Well. Maybe” You replied. 

“....All three might be influenced by that fact actually”

“No”

“How did you manage that?”

“How did you get him to agree!?” 

“I feel like everything I’ve ever known about you is a lie…in the best way possible”

A flood of questions only managed to bog you down further. 

“Does anyone here know the movie Shark Tale?” you always chuckled to yourself each time you were reminded as to what led you to your children’s names. 

The group around you murmured with faint acknowledgement of the movie, “Lenny and Frankie are sharks in the movie, so it felt fitting, and well, Finn is pretty self explanatory”

It had started as a little inside joke. Just for yourself. 

Not even Brendon had caught on to the theme. 

Simply excited and so in love with you. 

Lenny. 

You had softly spoken the name, whispered to the tiny little baby boy in your arms. Testing how it felt to slip from your tongue. 

In your eyes it was the perfect name for your first child. You had hooked Brendon into picking the name by explaining how it meant to be brave as a lion. 

So Brendon couldn’t resist. 

Not when you whispered that name with such reverence. 

And then in the lead up to your due date, throughout your secondary pregnancy. As he stayed by your side closely. Attentive and dutiful towards you. 

Taking care of everything. Evenings after he’d put Lenny to sleep, he’d sit on the couch gently rubbing your feet. 

You would talk aloud about the names you liked for your twin girls. 

Frankie

That was one that had caught his attention. 

You did always love the song Can’t Take My Eyes Off You by Frankie Valli. So he simply assumed that was where the name came from. 

It simply helped that it was derived from the name Francesca, meaning to be free. Independent. And if that wasn’t something he wished for his baby girl. He didn’t know what else there was to hope for. 

And he was none the wiser.

To the fact that those names had been derived from a film. One that was unhinged and hilarious.

One that had sharks called Lenny and Frankie. 

He had no idea his children were going to be named after sharks….

Well. 

Not until you insisted on the name Finn. 

That was the very name when you knew the jig would be up.

The moment you would finally have to reveal. Brendon Park’s kids’ names were all Shark themed…

But in that moment where you suggested the name.

And he had no right to go against you. 

Not when you had just gone through 10 hours of labour to birth the twins….

Not that he even considered arguing with you over it. Finding the inside joke equally amusing. 

He simply sighed with a small smile, kissing your head sweetly, in your arms the little bundle of endless possibility and within his own arms wrapped neatly was Frankie. 

Murmuring softly, “Whatever you wish, love” 

He might be brash and blunt with everyone else. 

But for you. 

And your three little kids. 

He was as soft and pliable as playdough. 

Even as you teased him relentlessly at work. Putting him in his place, just as you had done all those years ago. When you had first met. 

Unafraid and bold. 

It was what had made him fall in love with you after all. 

He was so fucking grateful for you. 

And if it meant naming your kids Shark themed names. 

Then he would do whatever it took to keep that bright smile upon your face.

To be able to love and to hold you tightly. 

As you kissed him softly. 

Loving him tenderly. 

You were his home. 

Reeling him back to you.

You had him, hook, line and sinker.

And that was perfectly fine by him.

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed. Once again I indulge myself. Soft Park the Shark for his lover. Also who doesn't love a little secret relationship trope?? And I literally couldn't help myself with the kids names, I thought it was funny and sweet. (Shark Tale in my opinion is a hilarious film, nostalgia filled opinion) Let me know what you think! ✨ Read Part 2: Hooked On A Feeling Here! Comments, Reblogs and Likes are welcomed and appreciated 💕 Feel free to find my Dr Robby x Wayne!Reader Rinse & Repeat Series Masterlist here 🩺 Or check out my overall Masterlist here

From your side, it really wasn’t your fault.

Your husband looked disgustingly hot tonight. The white shirt, the grey vest, the diamond brooch you'd gotten him and those fucking gold rings on his fingers. Your husband looked straight out of a scandalous magazine no less.

It had been too long since he’d properly touched you.

And by too long you mean this morning which only consisted of a desperate makeout session against the dressing table until his dad had called to remind not to be late for the family gathering.

so here he was- looking like pure sin in front of everyone while you were starving for your husband's touch. it's only fair enough to make him suffer too, right. But as you continued with your evil plan of torturing him with your little touches, you began enjoying it too much.

Jungkook was barely holding it together now. He's trying to look relaxed but you knew him too well. Oh, how he wishes if he could just bend you over this instant and fuck that brattyness out of you.

“Aigoo, I left my reading glasses in the kitchen.”

“I’ll get them for you, halmeoni.” You give her a sweet smile before making your to the kitchen.

The moment you reach for the glasses on the counter, a very familiar tattooed arm slams against the cabinet beside your head.

You turn around to find the man you've been successfully avoiding to meet alone. Jungkook’s other hand lands on your hip trapping you between his arms as he presses himself into you. You could absolutely feel the unmistakable bulge pressing against your body.

“What are you doing?” You try to keep your voice innocent.

Jungkook scoffs. His tongue pokes the inside of his cheek as he tilts his head. “You find this funny, huh?”

You try to bite back your smile. “I don’t know what you’re talking about..”

“Keep up with the act and I’ll bend you over this counter right fucking now."

You gulp because your husband may or may not be kidding about this.

“Halmeoni!” you gasp looking at the doorway behind him.

Jungkook jerks back so fast he nearly loses his balance.

By the time he figures there's no one behind, you're snatching the glasses off the counter and dart past him with a bright giggle as you escape the kitchen.

“You little—”

He shakes his head, running a frustrated hand through his hair with a mix of amusement, adjusting his pants to hide his very obvious problem created by his wife.

--

By evening, it’s worse.

Much worse.

The garden's lit up with warm string lights filled with fun chattering and laughters.

But not for Jungkook, because he’s been on edge for hours now and it’s starting to show.

You see it in the way his fingers keeps drumming impatiently, in how his attention drifts back to you no matter who he’s talking to.

Which only makes it harder not to smile.

You sit on the grass with his niece, completely occupied as she shows you her new hair clip collection, nodding along, sharing a laugh at whatever she’s explaining.

“Really?” you speak clipping one on her. “That’s your favorite?”

She nods enthusiastically putting a few on your hair too.

“Are you staying?” she suddenly asks, looking up at you with hopeful eyes.

"Uhh.."

“Stay.” She fists lightly at your dress with her little hand. “Please?"

You soften instantly and glance up to meet Jungkook’s eyes.

The second he sees that look on your face he knows exactly what you’re about to do.

“No, we can't—”

“We can stay,” you say at the same time, smiling down at her.

You don’t look at your husband right away.

because you already know what you’ll see.

and when you finally do glance up—

Yeah.

There it is.

You actually have to press your lips together to stop a laugh.

Of course you didn't intend to stay the night but you also didn't have the heart to say no to his cute little niece. As the night stretches on everyone's scattered. Some have already gone to bed while others lounge in watching an old movie.

You’re curled up on a big sofa, laughing along with Jungkook’s cousins. Jungkook sits across from you joining in here and there.

It’s almost midnight and you’re still showing zero urgency to leave. Your usually patient husband is hanging on by a thread. Jungkook stands up after a moment before letting you know he's heading to bed and you sure catch the sharp edge in his voice when he looks at you.

You give it another twenty minutes before making your way down the room in the hallway where you always stay in whenever you visit.

Your eyes try to adjust to the darkness of the room.

Did Jungkook really fall asleep?

You did tease him a lot today. He’s been worked up since morning and you spent the entire day pushing his buttons.

You pout closing the door behind you. What if he actually got annoyed and decided to just sleep?

The thought barely forms before strong hands grab your waist from behind and you're pinned against the door.

Jungkook’s hand slides up gripping your jaw to tilt your head back. You catch the intensity radiating off him as the moonlight spills through the thin curtains.

He breaths out dangerously calm.

“Had too much fun today, didn't you?” His body burns hot against yours. He only has his trousers on. You can feel how painfully hard he is as his thick length of his cock presses insistently against your ass.

His thumb brushes over your bottom lip almost too possessive.

“My turn now.”

A soft whimper escapes your lips the moment he speaks into your ear. One of his large palm squeezes your waist while the other slides down along your thigh.

You whimper again pressing back against him seeking more friction. The movement makes him growl in warning.

He reaches for the zipper at the back of your dress and yanks it down almost roughly making it pool at your feet. For a second you think he’s finally going to fuck you senseless against the door. but you know your husband too well. After all the teasing you put him through today- he’s going to make you pay for every single second of it first.

You almost whine the moment you feel the loss of his heat. You hear the sound of him unbuckling his belt. Turning around fully, you find Jungkook has dropped his trousers. Sitting on the edge of the bed in nothing but his black boxers.

The obscene bulge straining against it only adds more to your wetness.

“Come here.”

Your legs feel weak as you walk towards him.

His gaze drops to your panties. “Off.”

You do as he says, sliding off your drenched fabric down your legs.

Jungkook taps his thick thigh once, manspreading wider. You already know exactly what he wants.

The moment your dripping core makes contact with his veiny muscle, a sharp gasp leaves your lips. His thigh is warm and firm and slightly rough with a light dusting of hair that drags deliciously against your sensitive folds.

Your arms hook around his neck for balance as you begin to rock your hips forward.

His eyes stay locked on where your pussy is pressed, watching the way your slick glistens on his skin.

His muscle flexes beneath you, pressing harder against your clit. Your head falls forward onto his shoulder with a broken moan.

“Jungkoo-” You can feel how wet you are by how easily you’re gliding over his thigh. Jungkook leans back on his palms flat on the bed behind him.

He doesn’t touch you even once. Even as his cock is straining hard against his boxers leaving a wet patch from watching you use him.

Normally, Jungkook’s hands and mouth are always on you. So you know he's deliberately making you suffer.

You moan louder as desperation starts to build. Your slick is dripping down his thigh now.

“Kook.. please”

You become needy. You’re aching for his hands, for his mouth, for anything he's willing to give.

Your hands slide down his chest, pressing against the hard planes of muscle. You need more. You need him to touch you.

You dip your head and bite down on his shoulder making him hiss through his teeth.

“Kook.. touch me..”

Your voice comes out in a pathetic whimper.

Jungkook exhales through his nose in a mock.

You whine loudly, hips stuttering against his thigh as you try to chase the pleasure but it's not enough. It’s almost painful not having your husband’s hands on you when you need him the most.

Your hand moves down to palm him over his boxers. Jungkook lets out a groan jerking up into your touch.

One moment you're riding his thigh and the next you find yourself thrown onto the bed.

“You’re not getting to touch me soon.”

His words vibrate against your skin as he licks a stripe from the column of your throat.

“My wife's been such a brat."

You whimper trying to reach for him again but he catches both of your wrists in one large hand and pins them above your head. Jungkook reaches for something beside you and you know from the feel of it that it's the grey tie he wore. He ties the silk around your wrists tight enough that you feel the gentle bite of restraint.

Jungkook sits back admiring his work. His eyes rake slowly over your body while his fingers barely touch over your belly. Jungkook’s eyes darken even more as he watches you squirm beneath him.

He buries his head into the crook of your neck, teeth sinking into the soft skin to make you gasp followed by the wet heat of his mouth as he sucks hard.

He pulls back up to hover his lips barely an inch away from your own, so close you can feel the warmth of his whiskey breath. You chase his mouth, lips parting in plea to pull him down into a proper kiss. Jungkook exhales a low laugh against your lips. Your back archs as he unclasps your bra.

“You know the safe word?” he speaks against your skin as he starts kissing his way down between the valley of your breasts.

You whine nodding frantically, too worked up to form proper words.

He pauses above your left nipple, his warm breath fanning over the hardened peak.

“words, sweetheart.”

“yes.. jungkook, please—”

The plea barely leaves your mouth before he finally sucks hard around your nipple. His tongue swirls around the sensitive bud while his hand continues its torturous path, fingers barely moving along your slick folds.

He alternates between sucking and gentle bites on your breast, then moves to the other one giving it the same attention. All the while, his fingers tease your entrance dipping in just the tip of one finger before pulling back.

You’re panting now, wrists straining against his tie, body arching up into his mouth and hand. Jungkook lifts his head, eyes locked on your flushed face as he continues his slow descent down your body, lips and tongue tracing a wet path over your stomach until he settles between your spread thighs.

When his eyes land on your pussy, a rough sound rumbles from his chest. A thin string of arousal clings to your inner thigh and every time your walls clench around nothing, more of it leaks out.

“I’m sorry,” your voice comes out as a broke whimper. “Sorry, Jungkook.. please”

It’s embarrassing how quickly the apology spills from your lips even though he hasn’t said a single word yet.

Jungkook hums against your thigh. He lifts your left leg angling it up to rest your ankle on his broad shoulder. The new position spreads you open even more for him, exposing your dripping pussy completely to his hungry gaze.

“Can’t hear you.” He places an open-mouthed kiss right on the inside of your ankle.

You whine pathetically.

“Kook, please...” Your voice cracks with desperation. “need you.. so bad. please—”

Jungkook's own desperation wins as he dips his head down dragging his tongue through your folds. The loud moan escapes you as your back arches for him. His hot tongue laps at you with deliberate strokes.

The cool silver of his lip rings only add more to your pleasure as he eats you out like a mad man. One of his hands grips your thigh tightly holding your leg in place on his shoulder while the other slides under your ass, tilting your hips up so he can bury his face deeper between your legs. You moan his name like prayers.

You bring your tied hands to thread your fingers into his hair. Jungkook groans loudly at the tug. His scalp stings from how hard you’re pulling but it only seems to spur him on.

You cry out from the pleasure of his relentless licking, sucking and kissing every inch of your dripping pussy.

You’re shaking. Whimpering. Already close to tears from how badly you need to come but Jungkook pulls back every time only to start the torturous cycle all over again.

“Hands above your head.” Jungkook spreads your folds open with two fingers before you feel the flat of his ring-clad fingers directly onto your swollen clit. You let out a sharp moan as the thick gold rings make contact with your overheated skin. "Fuck—”

He knows how much you love these. How fucking turned on you get every time you see them on his hands. He starts rubbing circles over your clit, letting them drag again and again adding a new kind of delicious friction that makes your toes curl.

Your arousal is leaking steadily down your thighs and onto the sheets beneath you more so coating his shiny gold.

“Look at you,” He murmurs opening you up more. “Dripping all over my rings like a desperate little wife. You love feeling them on your pretty pussy, don’t you?”

You desperately pull down on your tied wrists against the sheets. Your hips twitch uncontrollably trying to grind against the cool metal.

Jungkook chuckles darkly.

He dips his fingers lower curling them deep.

Tears of pleasure stings your eyes as your husband mercilessly continues with fucking you with his fingers.

Every time your moans get louder, every time your pussy starts clenching too hard around his fingers he slows down or pulls back completely leaving you empty and throbbing.

You sob from the frustration and overwhelming pleasure. “I can’t.. koo.. please let me come..”

Jungkook leans down pressing a surprisingly soft kiss to your inner thigh. “No,” he sounds almost gentle despite the cruel way he’s denying you.

“You’re gonna come only on my cock tonight.”

He flips you over onto your stomach as his possessive hands manhandle your body yanking your ass up high.

Your tied hands remain stretched above your head. Your back arches deeply, ass presented perfectly for him pussy dripping and exposed.

“Fuck, look at you,” He holds you in place with a bruising grip as he admires the view of his wife.

You finally finally feel the drag of Jungkook’s leaking cock through your soaked folds. The hot tip teases your clit all the way down to your entrance. You can’t help it as you push back against him trying to take him inside.

“My greedy little wife,” he lets out a chuckle.

Before you can form a single word he pushes in with a deep thrust. A loud cry rips from your throat. Jungkook’s cock finds home as he buries himself to the hilt. The sudden fullness makes your walls flutter wildly around him.

“Fuck- baby,” he groans, fingers digging harder into your waist.

He doesn’t give you any time to breathe. He pulls back almost all the way only to slam back in harder setting a brutal pace right away. The sound of his hips slapping against your ass fills the room, mixed with your broken moans and his low grunts.

Your hands fist the sheets above your head as he fucks you roughly from behind manhandling your body however he pleases.

“Take it,” his voice drips possession. “Take every fucking inch like you’ve been begging for all day.”

You’re so glad the rooms in this farmhouse are built soundproof because the noises spilling from your mouth are beyond obscene. Every brutal thrust forces another filthy sound out of you. wet slaps of skin against skin mixing with the squelch of your soaked pussy taking his cock.

Jungkook fucks you rough and deep. His relentless pace makes you see stars. pounding into you from behind as if he’s trying to fuck the brat right out of your body.

His hand slides up from your waist to cup your breast to grope the soft flesh roughly. His fingers find your hardened nipple and pinch it hard.

You cry out.

You’re so close already.

He tugs your hair back roughly with one hand making your back arch until it presses against his strong chest. A strangled moan rips from your throat. The new position has his cock hitting even deeper inside you.

His hand snakes up your body and wraps firmly around your throat making your moan turn choked.

“You don’t get to come until I say so."

He bites down on whatever part of your skin his mouth can reach. His teeth sink in to leave dark bruises, marking you up as he continues thrusting into you with punishing strokes.

“All fucking mine,” he growls right against your ear. His hand tightens slightly around your throat as he speaks. "Taking my cock so well.”

His other hand slides down your body pressing rubbing against your swollen clit.

The sudden added stimulation makes your entire body jerks violently as the orgasm crashes through you.

Tears spill freely from your eyes, sliding down into your hair as your walls clamp down around his cock like a vice. Your pussy gushes around him while he keeps thrusting through it until your legs shake uncontrollably.

"such a brat, aren't you."

You barely recover from the first orgasm of the night before your husband has you on your back.

You try focusing your blurry eyes on him.

Jungkook has his hand stroking his cock glistening with your sweet arousal. The sight of you wrecked and crying beneath him makes him more feral.

He moves on top of you taking your tied wrists and pins them above your head. His mouth crashes down on you hard.

Jungkook barely gives you a moment to breathe between his devouring kisses. You moan against his lips as his cock slides all the way in you again. His hand tightens around your wrists as he starts fucking you harder.

Though the Jeon house has highest grade furnitures but the way Jungkook fucks into you. you pray the bed doesn't break.

“Wanted your husband's cock so bad, didn’t you?” he punctuates each word with a hard thrust. “Now take it. All of it. It’s all yours, baby.”

You can only sob in pleasure as he fucks you into oblivion as he keeps pounding and pouring filthy praises just for you.

You feel like you’re floating in a dream.

You have no idea how many hours have passed. All you know is the endless pleasure of being pulled apart and put back together by your husband’s insatiable hunger.

His stamina is almost animalistic, reminding you of your honeymoon phase when he'd made love seven days a week. In your husband's words, he could never get enough of his beautiful wife.

Jungkook has always been quite experimental with your sex life. loves trying new things, toys, positions on you. but his absolute favourite is still classic missionary. because he gets to see your face when you come.

Jungkook has both of your legs pushed up over his shoulders now folding you in half as he drives into you insane. The angle is brutal, making your eyes roll back.

when he pulls your legs down making them wrap weakly around his waist. your thighs are barely able to hold onto him so Jungkook hooks one arm under your thigh holding it up for you. You’ve completely lost count of how many orgasms you’ve had tonight.

Your mind is too blissed out to keep track of anything and your husband just can’t seem to stop. Jungkook chases every broken moan that leaves your lips.

By the time he finally spills inside you for the last time, you’re more than completely spent.

Your body is covered in his marks. Your pussy is leaking his cum and your legs are shaking so badly you know with absolute certainty you won’t be able to walk properly tomorrow morning.

Jungkook collapses beside you holding you in his arms. You're too dizzy to figure what's happening anymore. But you sure feel your wrists getting lighter followed by so many soft kisses on them and your forehead and your cheeks before you finally pass out.

--

The first thing you register as you awaken are feather-light touches gliding over your skin along with lips trailing down your bare back. You stir letting out a hum.

Jungkook’s hand continues its slow caress down the curve of your waist, over the dip of your hip, then back up again. He becomes so soft after every intense night you spend together. It never not makes you fall for him harder each time.

Jungkook nuzzles his head into your neck while his hand slips between your legs with aching gentleness. His fingers almost caresses over your swollen folds.

A soft whine escapes you as turn around in his embrace, but the moment you do, a sharp hiss leaves your lips.

“Shit, baby” he speaks while his eyes look down to check. “hurts a lot?”

you nuzzle your face into his neck seeking his warmth.

“I can manage..” you mumble against his skin.

Jungkook places a kiss to your hair.

“I’ll cook your favourite pasta when we get home."

You immediately look up at him.

“Work?”

He brushes a hair aside from your face.

“Taking the day off.”

Your face lights up and you lean to peck his cheek.

“I’ll make cheesecake too.” Jungkook shows you his other cheek.

You smile childishly wrapping your arms around his neck smacking another one of your sweet pecks.

“And?”

He slides you closer by your waist, tangling your legs together with his.

“And I’m gonna give you a Jeon Jungkook special massage,” he finishes with a peck on your nose.

“And?” you tilt your head still grinning.

Jungkook lets out a quiet laugh.

“And I’m gonna spoil my wife so so much.” his thumb brushes over your cheek.

“You already do,” you lean in to kiss him properly on the lips. He chases your mouth when you try to pull away.

Today’s shift has been brutal. 

Dennis has barely gotten a second to breathe all day, let alone chart or just sit down. Seven o’clock doesn’t come with the relief of finally getting to go home, no—it comes with the dread that he’ll be spending at least the next two hours catching up on notes, and he isn’t the only one. Trinity, Mel, and Frank are all scattered around at various computers, eyes half-closed and voices quiet as they dictate. Robby’s doing the same, minus the dictating—since he refuses to chart out loud for whatever reason. 

You come downstairs, hoodie on over your scrubs and backpack on your shoulders, swinging your hospital-issued lanyard around your hand. Your eyes pick over the central hub until you find him, approaching quietly, not wanting to interrupt the sentence he’s in the middle of. He gives you a quick smile as he finishes up, then sets the device on the desk. 

“Hey, you got my text, right?” He asks, pushing off his chair, standing up. 

“Mhm,” You hum, thrusting an iced coffee in his direction, one you had run out to get when he told you he’d be staying late. “Thought this might help.”

His eyes light up, more than they already had at the sight of you, taking it and setting it on his workstation. 

“It definitely will, thanks,” He says. “I’ll go grab the keys-”

“I’ll just hangout upstairs until you’re done,” You interrupt. “I already found a call room.”

He frowns. “You don’t have to.”

“I want to,” You insist. “Any chance you can spare fifteen minutes? I got dinner.”

Robby answers for him, sensing the way he’s about to decline and push through, even though he’s on his last legs. 

“Go have dinner with your girlfriend, we’ll be here when you get back,” He says. You raise your eyebrows at Dennis expectantly, gesturing in Robby’s direction.

“Boss says it’s okay,” You add. 

Dennis smiles, nodding. “Yeah, let’s go.”

He follows you upstairs, coffee in hand, rubbing his eyes a few times, trying to wake himself up. You push the call room door open, dropping your backpack on the desk, unzipping it and pulling out a few containers. It’s nothing too fancy, just some decent things from the cafeteria, but neither of you mind. You lay everything out while Dennis watches, eyes fond and chest warm. 

Your hands grab the bottom of your hoodie, pulling it over your head, revealing the black long-sleeve underneath. You don’t think twice as you toss it onto the bed, still focused on setting things up. Meanwhile, Dennis’ eyes fall, landing on the sliver of your waist that’s exposed between your waistband and shirt. He swallows, blinking quickly, already feeling heat spreading over his neck and cheeks. 

He’s almost gotten himself together by the time you’re done, but then you turn around. 

The long-sleeve is a v-neck, one that would be wildly inappropriate if you hadn’t been wearing a scrub shirt on top for your shift. Your necklace, the one he had saved so hard to get for your first birthday after you started dating, glints against your skin. Your chest is exposed, curves of your cleavage on display. Your pants hang low on your hips, and he knows every inch of you so well by now that he can practically see them through the fabric.

“I didn’t have much to work with,” You admit. “Figured it was better than nothing.”

Dennis nods, stepping towards you. “Yeah, no, this is really sweet, angel.”

You smile when he grabs your waist, pulling you close, kissing you quickly. 

“How mad would you be if I didn’t eat any of it?” He asks, voice just above a whisper, forehead resting against yours. You frown, face shifting with confusion, about to ask what’s wrong, he’s sure. He doesn’t let you. 

“There are…other things I’d rather do with my time,” He adds, tightening his grip on you, both thumbs dipping under your waistband. “But it’s completely fine if you don’t want-”

You take a second to recover, the proposition shocking, but then you’re all in, cutting him off. 

“Fuck the food,” You say lowly, looking over his shoulder towards the bed, the thrum of desire already settling in your stomach. He exhales, mouth tugging up into a small smile. He stares at you for a few seconds, then his lips are on yours again. It starts soft, but it spirals fast, your arms wrapping around his neck, lips locked. He slides his hands under your shirt, cold fingertips digging into your sides, sending a shiver down your spine. 

He pulls back for a moment, lifting your shirt over your head, tossing it off to the side. Your heart pumps against your sternum, blood rushing to your chest as you reconnect. You grab either side of his face, trying to get impossibly close, lips haphazard and frantic. Dennis’ movements aren’t any more precise, guiding you away from the table until you feel the wall against your back, both of you almost tripping over your own feet. He reaches towards your spine, unclasping your bra, letting it fall to the floor. 

He ducks his head down towards your chest, lips closing around your skin, nipping softly. You gasp, fingers threading through his hair as he leaves small bruises, barely leaving any skin unaffected. He eventually takes your nipple in his mouth, sucking hard.  

“Ah, Den,” You sigh, tilting your head back, eyes closing. He unties your scrub pants, shuffling them down your thighs along with your thong. He comes back up, kissing you again, chest heaving. You whimper against him when he drops a hand down, pushing two fingers inside of you. 

He doesn’t break the kiss as he pumps them up and down, feeling how you tighten momentarily, thighs clenching and legs already starting to quiver. You rock your hips in time with his fingers, needing more. 

“What do you want from me, angel?” He asks, the question murmured against your lips. 

You shake your head. “Anything you want.”

He lets out a breathy laugh, licking his lips. “Yeah, okay.”

You can still remember when you first started dating, when he would’ve asked if you were sure. Now he knows that you’re more than sure. 

He pulls his scrub top off, along with the t-shirt he was wearing underneath. You watch his chain fall back against his chest, his muscles rippling as he throws his clothes aside. His collarbones catch your eye, and you kiss the left one, then the right. You nip at the bone, knowing how sensitive he is there, then you give him a bruise to match the myriad he’s given you. It throws his focus for a second, his breath catching with a soft groan. 

He grabs the back of your thighs, setting you on the bed, climbing on top of you. He puts his lips back on you, starting just below your ribcage, leaving bruises and kisses all over your stomach. He continues down to your thighs, occasionally biting into your skin. You admire the gradient of hickeys he’s left, the ones on your chest already dark. You bite back a comment about him ‘marking his territory.’ 

He lifts his head, panting, one hand holding himself up on the mattress while he raises the other, turning his watch towards his face. The action is so unreasonably hot you have to bite the inside of your cheek to avoid moaning. 

“Eight minutes,” He comments, looking at you. His eyes are dark, matching your own. “I can get you off-”

“Don’t worry about me,” You breathe, eyes flicking between his face and his chain, which is hanging off his neck, swinging back and forth lightly. “Just fuck me, please.”

He raises an eyebrow, but he doesn’t object, especially when you reach out, fingers curling around the silver necklace. You tug on it, pulling him close. He fumbles with his own scrub pants, untying them and pushing them down, keeping them around his thighs. His muscles press against the elastic waistband, visibly flexing. 

“Jesus fuck,” You say, making him look at you, eyes wide. 

“Something wrong?” He asks, concern flashing on his features. 

“No, no, fuck, you’re just-” You pause, his thigh muscles still commanding your attention. “I love you so much, and you’re so hot.”

He smiles, all worry washing away. “I love you too, baby.”

You gesture to his watch. “Eight minutes, Denny.”

“Right, right,” He says, shifting so he’s in line with you. You arch your back as he slides a hand underneath you, bracing your pelvis as he slowly pushes in. The lack of foreplay makes it hurts a bit more than usual, your face scrunching up, grip on his chain tightening. He watches you closely as he moves, making sure he’s not going too fast. 

You wince at one point, and he freezes. 

“You want me to stop?” He asks. 

“No, please don’t,” You say, visibly relaxing a touch. “Keep going.”

Your eyes rolls back once he’s in, reaching for him. He lowers himself onto his elbow beside your head, his other hand coming up to your cheek. The feeling of cold metal on your chest makes you flinch, looking down to see where the bottom of the cross grazes your bruised skin. 

“Jesus,” He murmurs, hitting your cervix easily. The cross moves with each thrust, occasionally hitting your jaw. “You feel amazing, angel.”

You moan in response. 

“Shh, don’t want anyone hearing you,” He murmurs, adjusting so the pendant hangs above your mouth. You take it between your teeth. 

He rolls his hips again, making your eyes flutter closed as you whine. Dennis looks you up and down, realizing that you’ll definitely be sensitive for the next few days while your bruises heal. He’s about to speak again when there’s a knock on the door. 

You both go still, listening closely, not entirely sure if it was really a knock or just someone out in the hallway. Dennis turns his head towards the door, squinting. 

“Was that-”

There’s another knock followed by his last name, then yours. It’s Lena, undoubtedly. Dennis is off you in a second, already pulling his pants back up. He scoops his t-shirt off the floor, yanking it over his torso while you do the same with your long-sleeve, pulling the thin blanket at the end of the bed over your exposed legs after. You reach your arms up, acting as though you’re tying your hair back when he turns around, making sure you’re decent before opening the door. 

“Hey, Lena,” He greets. “Everything okay?”

“We’ve got a pileup,” She explains. “Four victims, five minutes out. We need all hands on deck.”

“Shit, okay,” Dennis says. “Yeah, we’ll be right down.”

She gives him an apologetic smile, looking past him towards you. “Sorry to interrupt.”

“Oh, uhm, you didn’t,” He says, stuttering, face heating up quickly. “We weren’t-”

“See you downstairs!” She calls, walking away from the door. Dennis let’s it close, leaning against it when he faces you again. 

“You think she knew?” He asks. You laugh, swinging your legs out from under the blanket and standing up, stepping into your pants and shimmeying into them. You press a quick kiss to his lips and pass him his scrub top. 

“I think she definitely assumed,” You say, pulling your own scrub top out of your hoodie and back on. “You played it off nicely, though.”

“Really?” He questions, voice slightly muffled from behind his shirt, his head poking out the top a second later. 

You grin, patting his shoulder as you step into the hallway. 

“No, not at all.”

He huffs, following you out. You take the stairs down, stopping at the bottom, moments away from shouldering the door open. You stop, reaching out for him. He takes your hand in his, bringing it up, lips grazing your knuckles. 

“Ready?” He asks. 

“Lets do it.”

Jack spots you immediately, calling your last name. 

“Need you in here,” He says. “Whitaker, help Ellis in trauma three.”

“On it,” Dennis says, dropping your hand as you go your separate ways, both already focused on the task at hand. 

You follow Jack into the trauma room, the number of people half what you’re used to. You aren’t sure how many dayshift doctors are still around, but Mel’s already there when you walk in. The patient is tugging against restraints, ones EMS must’ve put on, as she tries to finish up her primary exam. 

“Ready for RSI,” Bridget says. Jack nods. 

“On her,” He says, nodding his head towards you. “Findings, Mel?”

“GCS nine, confused, unresponsive to questions or commands,” She explains. “Decreased breath sounds on the left, gurgling. GCS is right on the brink, but I think we should intubate.”

“Do it,” He says, already halfway out the door. “Come to trauma three when you’re finished!”

“Wait, where are you going?” Mel asks, worry edging into her tone. 

Jack pauses, watching as you move to the head of the bed. “You’re good, she’s got you.”

The door closes behind him, and she looks at you. You give her a reassuring nod. 

“We’ve got this, Dr. King,” You say. “Let’s push paralytics?”

She nods. “Yes, please.”

Bridget administers the meds, and you open the patient’s mouth, positioning the blade correctly and turning the light on. 

“Do you, uhm, do you want the monitor?” Mel asks. 

“Nah,” You say. “Seven-five.”

You’re finished in under thirty seconds. 

The patient’s sats come up, but they plateau in the high-eighties. Mel listens to the chest again, frowning. 

“eFAST,” She says, lifting his shirt up and placing the tool against his chest. “No lung sliding on the left.”

“Tension pneumo,” You agree, also looking at the screen. 

“Decompression needle,” She orders, putting the wand back and pushing the screen off to the side. She takes the needle in her hand, positioning it above the correct intercostal space. You’re squeezing the bag attached to the patient’s tube, watching as she inserts it, hearing the telltale rush of air escape. 

“Sats improving,” You say, seeing them climb into the mid-nineties. “Nice work, Dr. King.”

Someone yelling your last name makes you look away from the monitor, passing the bag off to Bridget and running out of the room. You pull your gloves off, throwing them out, seeing Parker standing in the doorway of trauma three. 

“What’s going on?” You ask, skidding past her. She takes her place beside the bed again, where Dennis is already doing compressions, each push showing up as a wave on the screen. “Shit.”

“We need an airway, now,” She says, despite it being obvious. 

You grab new gloves. “Mac blade with video scope.”

“Rhythm check,” Parker says, making Dennis stop, raising his hands. The line flattens, the hallmark ‘beep’ ringing out. He leans back over the patient, one knee resting on the edge of the bed, not noticing when his shirt gets caught underneath. 

“Do you want a pause?” Parker asks, looking at you, rolling her sleeves up in preparation to take over compressions if needed. You shoot her a glare, one that makes her smirk.

“Need me to teach you how to intubate through compressions, Dr. Ellis?” You counter, already visualizing the chords on the screen. “Don’t stop, Whitaker.”

He doesn’t, but his mind drifts for a moment, seeing countless times you’ve said those two words to him in a vastly different context. The door swings open, revealing Trinity and Robby. 

“How long has she been down?” Robby asks. 

“Four minutes,” Parker says. “Rhythm check.”

Dennis leans back again, his knee still up, pulling his shirt down even farther. He’s panting, and he takes the opportunity to wipe his forehead with the back of his hand. 

“Push another epi,” Parker directs, looking up at Dennis, her eyes landing right on his collarbone, where a dark bruise is forming. “Uh, compression swap.”

He steps back, his shirt springing back into place as someone else takes over, but it’s far too late. Robby’s obviously averting his eyes, Trinity is nodding, swallowing whatever comment she wants to make, and Parker’s trying to stay professional. 

You place the tube, letting one of the nurses put the bag on. Parker slips her stethoscope in, placing it against the patient’s chest, nodding. 

“Good breath sounds,” She says. 

“Want some ice for that bruise, Huckleberry?” Trinity asks, tone completely serious. 

Robby closes his eyes, shaking his head. 

“What?” Dennis asks, confusion obvious, but you know exactly what she’s referring to. You take over compressions, desperate to be doing something in this moment, knowing that the two of you will never live this down. 

“On your collarbone,” She says. “Looks painful.”

You can’t see his face, but you can picture how red he is as he starts to stutter. 

“I, uh, no, I’m fine-”

He stops, not wanting to dig himself any deeper. 

“Rhythm,” Parker says. “Keep it together, everyone.”

You lift up, identifying the waves quickly, placing two fingers against the patient’s carotid. “Pulseless.”

“PVT, let’s charge to two-hundred,” Parker says, taking the defibrillator pads in her hands. “Clear.”

You’re back on the chest the second you realize that she hasn’t gone back into sinus, sweat starting to drip down your neck from the exertion. 

“Walk me through reversible causes,” Robby says. 

“Uh, hypovolemia, but her BP’s okay and we’ve already given two units,” Dennis starts. “Hypoxia, but her sats have come up. Acidosis?”

“I can grab an ABG if someone can switch,” You say, breathless. 

“I’ve got it,” Santos says, stepping up beside you, taking your place once you come off. 

“Keep going, Whitaker,” Robby instructs. 

“Pneumothorax, good breath sounds though,” He adds. “Tamponade.”

You’ve moved towards the patient’s thigh, heparinized syringe in hand, palpating before inserting it. The tube fills slowly with blood, the colour deep red, a result of her low perfusion. You cap the tube, passing it off to a nurse, then you return your focus to the airway. You set your own stethoscope to the patient’s chest. Air is moving, but it’s not sufficient. 

“I’m adding a PEEP valve,” You say, grabbing the piece from the drawer, attaching it to the exhalation port, setting it correctly. 

Trinity takes her hands off the patient. 

“Charge again, two hundred,” Parker says. “Clear.”

The phone rings, and you rip a glove off, grabbing it off the wall, saying your last name once it’s against your ear. Robby and Dennis wait for you to say something, ready to take action based on whatever the lab says. 

“Potassium seven-point-three,” You say. “pH is the same.”

“What next?” Robby asks. 

“Calcium glutonate, three gram IV push over two minutes,” Trinity says, letting someone else take over compressions. “Ten of insulin, one amp D50.”

There’s only two nurses in there, and both of them already have their hands full, so you step in. 

“I can do calcium,” You say, grabbing three syringes and three bottles. You draw the medication up, setting each down on the tray beside you. “Going in.”

You push each syringe over fourty seconds while the insulin and dextrose are set up, everyone moving in sync, compressions still ongoing under Parker’s lead. The third shock finally gives sinus rhythm, and you sigh in relief, tossing the used syringes and vials into the correct bins, then adjust the vent settings to avoid hyperventilation. 

“ET looks good, fourty-two,” You say. 

“Whitaker, place an arterial line,” Parker instructs. “Let’s give norepi.”

“Got any beds upstairs?” Robby asks, and you laugh. 

“For you? I’ll make it work,” You say. “Give ‘em a call once she’s back from CT, tell them I’ll bring coffee on Monday.”

You walk out of the room, stretching your arms above your head, tilting to one side to try and ease the ache that’s starting in your muscles. 

“Jesus, what happened to you?” Jack asks, stopping mid-stride, looking down at your slightly exposed stomach. You drop your arms once he gets closer, but he’s already seen enough, one eyebrow raised as he gives you a stern look. “I’m gonna’ kill him.”

“What?” You ask, laughing through the word. “Relax, I was a willing participant.”

“Oh my god, I did not need to hear that,” He mumbles, reaching out towards your shirt, patting it down. 

He sighs, closing his eyes. “Those things can give you a stroke, you know.”

“They’re not on my carotid, Jack.”

“Doesn’t matter,” He counters. “You should ice them.”

You roll your eyes as you walk away, wanting to get your charting over with so you can go home. 

Back in the trauma room things have settled down. Dennis finishes with the arterial line, repeat labs are drawn, and the patient is taken up to CT. Trinity reaches towards his shirt, tugging the collar down, exposing the bruise again. He swats her hand away, yanking it back up, cheeks burning again.

“Had some fun in that call room, hey?” She asks. 

Dennis shrugs, knowing he can’t defend himself. “Maybe. Whatever.”

“I knew I was interrupting,” Lena adds, holding the door as people start to file out. Trinity calls your name, pointing to his collarbone with her thumb. 

“You trying to kill him or something?”

You glance over, shrugging. “He bruises easily.”

“Hang on, he has them too?” Jack asks. “This is a hospital, people.”

“Too?” Trinity echoes. “Oh my god, this is the best day of my life.”

“Leave them alone,” Parker says. “If my girlfriend looked like her I’d be marking her up all the time.”

Dennis’ face scrunches up. Robby pats him on the shoulder. 

“You good?” He asks, genuinely curious, not trying to embarrass him any further. 

“Uh, yeah, all good,” He says. “You wanna’ finish the charts at home?”

You’re already turning the computer off. “Yes, definitely.”

“Need to finish what you started?” Trinity asks, but Dennis is half-way to the locker room. 

“It'll help him get the charting done,” You say, face completely blank. "Positive reinforcement, or whatever."

Trinity’s jaw drops, Robby rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands, Parker loses it. Jack raises his arms, walking away from the hub, calling over his shoulder.

“I expect no errors in those charts!”

“You know I’m very thorough!” You call back, not able to stop yourself from smiling when he groans from across the department. Trinity’s typing quickly on her computer, too fast to be updating a chart. Parker snorts from where she’s working, and you determine that they’re almost certainly sending messages back and forth. 

Dennis comes back down a few minutes later with your belongings, having gone upstairs to grab them while everyone was distracted. He passes you your hoodie, and you tug it over your head. You bid them goodnight, getting some waves and ‘night’s in response, along with a very pointed look from Trinity. Dennis’ hand hovers over your lower back as you leave the department. 

You wait until you’re in the car to bring it up. 

“Sorry, baby,” You say, tugging his shirt down, exposing the injury. “I didn’t mean to do it so hard. Does it hurt?”

“No, no, it’s fine,” He promises, laughing a bit. “That was…something.”

“That’s what they get for interrupting,” You say, softly running your thumb over it. “You do bruise easily, hey?”

He jokingly pushes your hand away. “I’m…pale!”

“Right,” You say, smiling. “Seriously, we should ice it when we get home. Might as well ice your arms while we’re at it.”

“Why would you ice my arms?” He asks, face showing that he knows your answer is going to be far from serious. 

You shrug, leaning over to him, rolling his sleeve up a few centimetres. Then, you bite his fucking bicep, just for a second. It’s light, but Dennis still flinches, despite the fact that you do this constantly. 

“Every time,” He murmurs. You kiss his arm after, laughing when he flexes it, kissing it again. 

“Let’s go home,” You say, tilting your chin up. He looks at you for a moment, face soft and eyes loving in the way that makes your stomach fill with butterflies.

"Yeah, lets go."

tags:

SHE WAS SITTING on the sofa, leafing through a magazine she had picked up out of sheer curiosity. Michael had rolled his eyes before saying she was about to read some garbage. She had completely ignored him ━ she knew when something was worth her attention and this... Oh boy, it definitely was worth every second.

Thank goodness he had not glanced at the cover, otherwise he would have realised what she was up to. 

Michael was strolling alongside her, one hand idly stroking her leg, clad in a simple pair of jeans, his eyes fixed on a film he probably knew inside out. 

"Tell me."

She snapped the magazine shut in one go, her eyes scrutinising her boyfriend’s profile with intense focus.

"Mm?" he hummed, too absorbed by the screen.

"I want you to be honest with me," she sat up, crossing her legs, now facing him directly, his hand falling back onto the sofa. "I promise not to get upset."

The mere fact that she was moving away from him ━ and talking about not getting angry ━ was enough for Michael to grab the remote, switch off the telly, and focus on his girlfriend. His heart was suddenly beating abnormally faster than usual and he did not like the way she was currently looking at him.

"... About what?"

A mischievous smile played on the young woman’s lips, her tongue was covering part of her teeth, which ━ based on Michael’s months of experience ━ did not bode well at all. A manicured hand grabbed the infamous garbage and waved it gently in front of his eyes. 

"Have fans ever asked you to sign their chest?"

Michael blinked. Had he... Had he heard correctly?

"I'm sorry ━ what?"

"Their chest," she repeated. "You know ━ breasts," she ran a hand over her own, as if to illustrate her point. 

His eyes followed her movement despite himself. The red of her nail polish contrasted perfectly with the black satin top she was wearing, the lace of her bra visible against her skin. His gaze returned to her amused face. 

"Why are you..." Michael let out a breathy laugh, suddenly feeling shy. "Oh, no! No, that never happened, why are you asking me this━"

"Mm," she nodded slowly. "Interesting."

"What's interesting, what does that mean━" he stopped, looked at the magazine, suspicion dawning. "... What is this about?"

"What is what about, my love?"

"That magazine."

She let out a laugh before leaning forward slightly. Her hands glided up her body, two fingers brushing aside a strand of hair that was about to obstruct his view, before coming to rest on her cleavage. She slowly slid it down, the satin cascading over her bare skin before fully revealing the lace of her bra.

"Can I have an autograph, Mr. Jackson?" she asked sweetly, as a fan would, but those words in her own mouth sounded sinful.

He stayed staring, his mouth opening and closing every second. The room was quiet and she was looking at him with those beautiful eyes, pleading with him to do as she had asked, while he sat there with his brain completely useless.

For a simple April evening, the air was extremely warm, Michael thought suddenly.

"I━" he stopped, then tried again. "That’s not even how they call me━" she raised an eyebrow. "You're insane..." he murmured, pressing his hand over his face, palm flat against his own forehead.

"So... Is that a no?" she pouted.

Michael made a sound and dropped his hand, rubbing the back of his neck as he chuckled ━ and that reaction seemed to delight her even further.

"You are so━"

"Come on, baby━"

"Stop it!" he grabbed a pillow, putting it over her face.

"Please, baby! I even have the marker ready!" she admitted, removing the pillow from her.

"You have what now?"

Her eyes told him where to look at. His gaze dropped before he could stop it ━ there it was ━ nestled against the lace, the black marker sitting there like it had always belonged. How did he have missed it?

Michael looked away... looked back... looked away again.

She reached for the marker and took it out, holding it between two fingers.

"Okay so..." she started pointing at a specific place on her left breast. "Right here ple━"

"I don't need━there's no━please stop pointing━"

"Now that I think about it ━ your signature is quite long... perhaps I should━" she made a movement to remove her bra.

"Oh my God."

"Stop acting like you never saw me naked before, Michael! You’re ruining the mood!"

"That is completely different and you know it!"

"Do I?"

"Yes!" he threw his head back briefly, the laugh escaping before he could stop it. "You're doing this on purpose."

"Obviously," she rolled her eyes.

"Obviously," Michael repeated, shaking his head, but the corner of his mouth told a different story.

Biting her lips, and without breaking eye contact, she brought both hands up slowly and pressed them together against her chest. She raised an eyebrow.

Michael’s jaw clenched.

"You’re… you’re cheating."

"So... Will you please give me an autograph?" she pouted sweetly.

"You've been━" he let out another laugh. "Give me that."

Michael reached over and plucked the marker from her fingers before she could react, holding it away from her for a moment just to have the upper hand for one single second. She beamed at him as he uncapped it.

"Stay still."

She did as she was told as her boyfriend bent over her with such a focused expression that she had to look at the ceiling immediately to not laugh. His tongue appeared between his teeth, his brow furrowed slightly as if he was actually painting a work of art over her. The cold tip of the marker over her breast made her shiver and her eyes fell back right on his face, bottom lip caught between her teeth.

"… Couldn’t have asked for an autograph on a paper like everyone else," he mumbled.

"Where’s the fun in that?"

A second later, Michael sat back and capped the marker as she looked down and smiled brightly.

"That’s so hot!" she beamed, genuinely delighted. "Okay I need a picture."

"You need a what?"

"Picture. For proof," she repeated like it was obvious as she stood up.

"Proof…?"

"That I was the first ━ keep up, baby!" she exclaimed, searching for the Polaroid.

"There is no━hey, come back here!"

Michael caught her by the wrist, pulling her back as she landed against him, laughing. He joined her as her back settled against his chest. She tilted her head up, her lips brushing against his jaw.

"Want to do something else for me?"

"Haven’t you embarrassed me enough, woman?"

She chuckled once more before turning to face him, both hands pressing lightly against his chest, pushing him back until he sat down on the couch.

"I still want a picture though…" she spoke, her fingers found the hem of her top. "Perhaps you could help me take one."

She pulled it over her head in one slow, easy motion and tossed it gently at his face. She smelled of something sweet and when Michael looked up at her ━ at his own autograph ━ his tongue dragged slowly across his bottom lip before catching it between his teeth.