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readbeneaththelines · 5 years

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Just The Person I Need Pt. 5

Kwon JiYong is a Multi Million Dollar business man thrown into parenthood when his brother and sister-in-law die in an accident. leaving A son and daughter behind. Y/N is a nanny that loves what she does. What happens when their lives become intertwined? Will she be Just The Person He Needs?

Characters: Business Man!Kwon JiYong X Nanyy!Reader

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Smut somewhere along the way

Word Count: 3266

Warnings: None really for this chapter, language, maybe angry JiYong?

cr to gif owner..... why is he so damn good looking?

JiYong exhaled, trying to regain his composure. His hands were drawn into tight fists, the knuckles turning white from the pressure. Walking to the door that Mr. Mueller had just left through, he raised one of his fists, slamming it hard and straight into the solid wood. He heard a crack, but would not let it register that he had probably cracked a few knuckles or possibly broken his hand. Red with rage, he strode to his desk, picking up the receiver with his good hand. Pressing numbers hard enough to break them, he dialed a fellow conglomerate overseas. Taking his tie from around his collar, he began to wrap his swollen hand while waiting for an answer.

As soon as Eric Teller picked up, JiYong was seething.

“Teller Incorporated, Eric Teller speaking.” this man’s voice was pleasant and friendly.

“Eric, It’s Ji. We have a problem and I need your help, now!”

As JiYong relayed everything to Eric, he became increasingly agitated at the whole situation. This was not how he normally reacted to these types of threats. He never permitted physical retaliation anywhere. But here he was, knuckles swollen, face red, and brows covered in sweat. He was nearly screaming by the time he finished explaining every detail to Eric.

“Ji, first take a deep breath and calm down. We will figure out the best steps to take in bringing Mr. Mueller down a notch or two.” Eric spoke gingerly, not wanting to make JiYong more upset than he already was.

“Eric, dammit! I don’t want to bring him down a notch or two. I want him destroyed! I will own his companies… No, I will own him when I am finished with him, do you understand me? I will own him. That fucking piece of German shit will pay for this!” he was yelling at the top of his lungs by this point. He didn’t care, for once, what people were hearing outside those doors.

“Ji, we will own him, okay. Just let me make some calls then I will get back to you. Until then, don’t do anything erratic and stupid, okay?” Eric’s voice was still calm and collected.

“Fine. I will be expecting your call. Goodbye” and with that he slammed the receiver down. He suddenly collapsed into his desk chair, his hands trembling and the pain from his injured hand intensifying. Taking a few calming breaths, he stood and cradled his wrapped hand. Walking out into the lobby, employees began to scatter when they saw the doors open. No one made eye contact or got in his way. He left without a word.

The drive to the hospital was more difficult than he thought, since the pain was so intense he could not even shift correctly. Once he arrived, the woman at admissions saw him and ushered him directly in. She picked up the phone to message the attending and inform him of the special patient they had.

He was placed in a private room and the door was closed for privacy. He normally hated this kind of special treatment, but was thankful for it this go around. Dialing his cell phone single handed, he called his house to inform them that he would be late and to make sure his mother and the kids were fed. The gentleman on the other line informed him that his mother had already planned on keeping the children overnight, and for him to call her later. As he was hanging up, Dr Choi stepped in.

“Ji-, you had better be thankful that I heard the call over the speakerphone. If it got out that you were here with an injury, you know what could happen. Now, please tell me what or who you hit, and why” his voice kind but firm letting him know he meant business.

“How did you know I hit something? You are very aware, aren’t you Dr. Choi? I hit a solid wood door, out of anger. Better than hitting the person though, right?” JiYong tried to lighten Dr. Choi’s demeanor.

“Ji, what were you thinking? What has gotten into you lately? Every time you stop by my office, you seem more distant, more tired than the last time. If you are overwhelmed with something, you need to let someone know, especially before something worse than your hand happens again. Now let’s get that X-rayed. I can tell you just by looking at it, you have a few broken bones in there.” Dr. Choi led him to X-ray where they confirmed four broken metacarpal bones and one broken finger.

After being set in a cast, he thanked Dr. Choi for his assistance. The kind doctor took him by the good wrist, leading him to his private office.

What if this had been seen by those kids? Has all that has been happening lately been the reason for this outburst? We are friends, but I need you to talk to me, see if maybe I can help.” He sat on the edge of his desk, looking down at JiYong.

“I’m tired, Chang-min, exhausted actually. Don’t get me wrong, I love those kids and wouldn’t have things any other way. It’s just that... I don’t know... how I am going to run my business, care for these kids, and everything else all by myself? I’m afraid I’m going to fail them, and I don’t want to do that. Especially after all they have been through at such a young age.”

“Why don’t you hire a nanny, like we have? She is wonderful, and she only works a couple days a week with us and then another family a few more days. We use another nanny on her off days. I tell you what, let me send her over to your place, that way you can meet her, let the kids meet her, and if everything feels right then we will be happy to let her go so she can help you out. It has been a lifesaver for us.”

JiYong wondered why he never thought of a nanny before last night. He lowered his head and sighed heavily. He wondered if that would be the solution to maintaining his sanity in all of this.

“Why don’t I call her and send her your way? I am willing to give her the time off, if it in turns helps you.” Dr. Choi stood from the edge of his desk and handed JiYong a prescription for pain medicine. They walked together down the service hallway so that he could go unnoticed.

After he finally arrived home, he was ready for pain medicine and a stiff drink. He rushed through the doors, taking a brief second to greet the staff on the foyer. Once he reached the kitchen, he poured a snifter of whiskey with ice and took the large pill in one gulp with the entire glass of warming liquor. Making his way to his bedroom, he was silently thanking his mother for taking the kids for the night. He knew he had to call her and inform her of the events that had transpired over the day.

After explaining everything to his mom, she convinced him to let her and his father keep the kids for the weekend, giving him a chance to rest and recuperate. He was immensely grateful and told her that he would let her know when the nanny was coming. Hanging up, he scooted his legs under the covers and fell asleep before his head hit the pillow.

The light was pouring in through the floor to ceiling windows, warming his face. Slowly he stretched, a sharp pain reminding him of yesterday’s events. Checking his phone, he realized he had overslept by three hours. There were seven missed calls from his assistant, two from Eric, and one message from Dr. Choi. He quickly tapped on it to read the message.

Talked with our nanny, she would be happy to meet you at your convenience. This week or next. Just let me know which one works for you.

He pulled up the keyboard and began responding.

Dr. Choi,nthank you, later this week would be fine. Please let her know that I will be available after 2:00 pm. Please send her my address and number in case she needs directions. Thank you again for this kind offer.

Pressing send, he rose from the bed and headed for the shower. Looking at his arm, he reconsidered and opted for a bath. The warm water soaked into his muscles, easing the tension that had been there since yesterday morning. Once the water became cool, he stepped out and dried off. Wrapping a towel around his waist he checked his phone again. Another missed call from Eric and a message from Dr. Choi. Message first, then call Eric, he told himself.

She will be there Friday at 2:00 promptly. She is a stickler for being early so expect her around 1:45 and she will wait until 2:00 before coming to the door. No problem, Ji. Anything to help you. Let me know how it goes.

He called Eric before heading down for some late breakfast. Eric informed him that several oversea conglomerates had been approached by Mr. Mueller. They were all willing to give any assistance in bringing him down. He thanked Eric and told him he would call him Monday. His stomach growled, causing him to venture downstairs.

Sang-hoon greeted him cautiously. JiYong recalled how he appeared last night and the cast on his arm.

“Sang-hoon, I apologize for my behavior last evening. I had a rough day and just needed some privacy. Trust me, you are all fine and I am not upset with any of you”.

“Pardon Mr. Kwon, but I did not believe any of us were at fault. I have seen how chaotic it has been around here lately, so I figured you needed some space, which I told everyone to provide you. Please go to the dining room and enjoy some brunch. It should be about ready.”

JiYong was grateful for Sang-hoon. The older gentleman was a soothing presence and patient as all get out with two kids running around the house. Patting the older man on his shoulder, he headed for the dining room. He did not realize how hungry he truly was until he sat down. He finished off three plates of bacon, eggs, fruit and pancakes. Satisfied and sated, he went to his office. Stopping short of the door, he changed his mind, opting for going outside to enjoy the warm summer air. The warmth surrounded him, loosening the remaining tension from his body. He set himself down on the ledge of the fountain, dipping his long fingers into the cool water. He let his mind wander back to the last time he spoke with his brother. It had been the night before the accident, and they had been discussing plans for a vacation this coming summer. The entire family was going to get together and spend some quality time together. His brother told him he was proud of him and he couldn’t wait to see him.

After you and Ha-eun had spent most of the morning shopping for wedding dresses, decorations, and your bridesmaid dress, you both settled down for an early lunch.

“Oh Y/N, I have had the best time today! I have really missed the times when we would do this every weekend. I can’t wait to make a new life here with Seung-hwan and get to spend more time with you too! I am excited for what’s to come. Now all we have to do is find Mr. Perfect for you then we will be set as the two power couples of Gangnam!” How she wasn’t exhausted baffled you as you smiled at her friend’s enthusiasm.

“Ha-eun, I am so happy that you found the one for you, but as for me, I don’t think Mr. Perfect is in my cards.”

Except for the perfect Mr. Kwon JiYong, you said to yourself. Smiling, you continued.

“I think that in this life I am meant to be just what I am now, a nanny. My heart is drawn to this, and since all the dads are married, well then, I guess I don’t really have time to find the One. Besides, I haven’t found anyone that piques my interest.”

Except for that gorgeous specimen Mr. Kwon, your quiet subconscious voice told you.

Pushing the thoughts back in their recesses, you honestly believed that you would remain single in this lifetime. Not that you were troubled by this, but you had to admit that, just like every young woman, you had certain needs. The touch from a man, the feel of soft lips pressing to yours, the shivers they would send all over your body. Sometimes, you craved that, but lately with two families, you never had free time to meet anyone that you found special enough to be intimate with. Who knew, maybe one day.

Ha-eun was waving her hand in front of your face, attempting to get your attention. Shaking your head lightly, you came back to the present conversation.

“What’s got you all flustered? Your mind keeps wandering off and then you get this cheesy grin. Who has caught your eye young lady?” Ha-eun laughed when you blushed a bright red.

“No one really. There is this gentleman, he is friends with one of the families I work for. I have literally bumped into him twice now. He is so fine looking Ha-eun. Expensive suits, manicured nails, a smile that would make you melt. But he is just a fantasy guy for me to fawn over in my dreams”.

Ha-eun’s eyebrows raised at the mention of the mystery man. She looked at you, a glint in her eye.

“Whatever you are thinking, Miss Ha-eun, get your dirty thoughts out of your head right now. We are not going man hunting for my dreamy Mr. Perfect!” You swatted at your friend’s shoulder, but laughed when you saw the mischievous grin spreading.

“Whatever you say dear. Just keep him in your dreams. At least that way, he can’t screw anything up.” and at that, you both doubled over laughing.

While eating your meal, your phone rang. Looking at the screen, you quickly answered when seeing Dr. Choi’s name pop up. Excusing yourself from the table, you answered the call.

“Hello Dr. Choi. Is everything okay?”

“Yes, Y/N, everything’s fine. I was wondering if you could do me a huge favor?”

“Yes Sir, sure thing. What do you need?”

“I have a close friend that is looking for a nanny to help I out. I told him that you may be the perfect fit, especially since you only work a couple days a week now with us. We would miss you, but he really needs the help more than we do, and I think you would enjoy working for him.”

“I would be happy to meet with him. Of course I would miss you all too. But if you highly recommend him, then I would like to help any way I can.”

“Great! How about this Friday? Are you working with the Kims this weekend?”

“No sir, they actually treated me to a long weekend. So I won’t be working until Monday.”

That is perfect. How about two o’clock? I will send you his address and number.”

Thank you very much, Mr. Choi. I will be sure to call you after the meeting.”

Hanging up, you returned to the table. Your friend was now on her phone chatting endlessly away with Seung-hwan. Settling down in your seat, you began wondering who this new family could be. You began to fret, bringing a fingernail to your mouth to chew on a nail. Ha-eun slapped your hand away and shook her head. You put your hand in your lap and smiled back at Ha-eun.

“So, what was the mystery call about?”

“Oh nothing maybe, just one of the families I work for may have a more permanent family for me. I am going to meet with them this Friday”.

“Hmmm… must be loaded, to come recommended by Dr. Choi.” she giggled when you attempted to smack her again.

Both of you finished the meal and began the long trek back to Ha-eun’s hotel. You were going to stay the night, taking advantage of one last single girls night in before her best friend got married. Thanking Hyo-min for lunch, you hopped the next bus back to the Choi household to grab some clothes and ask about the friend you were interviewing with. You were greeted by Mrs. Choi and the children, who rushed at you with open arms for hugs. Bending down on one knee, you wrapped them tight, swaying back and forth with exaggeration. Kissing them atop their heads, you sent them off to play. Mrs. Choi handed you a fresh cup of coffee before pouring herself another one.

Mrs. Choi sat across the spacious counter. She looked at you and began speaking in her usual soft voice.

“Y/N, the gentleman my husband referred you to, is a kind man. He is in a tough spot right now and really needs someone to be there and help him. Things are turned upside down for him, so I know that you would be the perfect one to lift him up while helping him out. As much as we adore you, we also adore our friend. He is the only person I would be willing to lose you to. I hope it works out for you both.” Her smile was kind, and you knew she was being sincere.

“I hope it works out well for the both of us too, Mrs. Choi. If I do end up working with him, then maybe we can get all the kids together often.”

The lady nodded her head in agreement. Not many people knew JiYong’s situation, and it broke her heart that he was doing this alone. She knew you would be the loving person the kids needed, and also a strong support for him.

You spent the rest of the week with your friends and enjoyed some free time to yourself. SEeing that you didn't get much of it, you took full advantage. Friday arrived before you knew it. She went to the Choi’s to put on fresh clothes and get ready.

Looking at her watch, you readied yourself to leave. You really hated being late, and always tried to arrive at least fifteen minutes early. Hugging your employer tightly, you scooted down the hall to tell the kids bye. you put the address in the GPS, then headed out for the meeting. When you pulled in the driveway, you were greeted by a speaker at the gate. After verifying who you were, the gate slowly opened and you inched the car through. You saw him before he noticed the car. JiYong was wearing linen pants that hung low on his slender hips. His shirt was a pale baby-blue that was unbuttoned to his mid chest, caramel honey toned chest showing. His hair was tousled, as though he had been running his fingers through it. He was toned yet lean, his chest peeked out from the unbuttoned shirt. He was her possible new employer? Was he married? Divorced? Widowed? She slowly stepped out of the car, her eyes locking on his as she approached him. The only thing she heard was her heart beating loudly in her own ears.

@beautifulseoulliar @lynnbyun @astronomyturtle @aspaceformyself @trashkazuya @maxinaptak @micky1518 @rosiemilas @karri570

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@kingsuckjin

#kwon jiyong #kwon jiyong fic #jiyong x reader #jiyong fluff #jiyong smut

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hayjeon · 6 years

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Cut Me Open (ft. Yoongi) Part 02 [M]

→ marriedcouple!au, surgeon!au spin-off from CardioPalps → 15k words, rated for sex, possible triggers (talk of divorce/miscarriage/family issues), and medical jargon that took me 5ever to research

→ part 1 | part 2 | story talk | fin.

Yoongi graduated top of his class at Harvard. He’d excelled so well that he was immediately recommended to Seoul Gen, where his parents lived, and was happily relocated to intern at the huge hospital. Under Do Kyungsoo, one of the scariest but smartest residents, he had excelled even more, learning so much and becoming one of the best interns Seoul Gen had ever seen. When Kyungsoo retired and appointed him as co-director of the neuro department, it was smooth sailing from these.

Yoongi never really had too much trouble in his love life either. In high school and college, his passion and drive had always attracted a girl here and there, and he’d always gotten his fix. But then you came along, and you flipped it out of nowhere.

Instead of girls just being the main reason to compliment him and fuel his ego, you made him a better person. You challenged him, and you even beat him sometimes at your tests. You were his fuel for everything.

But somewhere along the way, Yoongi had lost it. He’d lost his grip on everything, his surgeries, his marriage, his superiority.

It all started with the day he accidentally sprained his finger while he was looking for flowers. A mistake, was all it was. Feeling like the both of you had been a little out of loop, with your differing schedules, Yoongi had driven straight to the closest flower shop to catch the owner wrapping up the store, smiling apologetically as he ran inside to grab the first thing he saw. But then he wasn’t paying attention and had closed his car door on his index finger.

Wincing, he’d cried out, and had gone back to the hospital, showing Ortho his finger and getting a cast for it. His surgeries after that were difficult, the junky silver metal wrapped around his finger awkward and too weird to handle flawlessly, especially when he was probing the sensitive brains of a patient.

One by one, his surgeries started to become a bit more difficult to handle, and the stress of possibly messing it up began to take a toll on him physically, and mentally.

The flowers were forgotten in the car, and when he finally remembered them, they were already too wilted and gross to give to you.

You deserved the best.

Which is why when you got pregnant, fulfilling all of his wishes and dreams, he’d done his best to make sure that you were stress free. He was the one who bought the furniture and assembled it, coming way too close to accidentally hammering the healing finger, and taking surgeries off to spend time with you.

The month after that was fine, and he’d enjoyed it. It was like you two were interns again, coming home to eat whatever you wanted, lounging on the couch in eachother’s arms watching and laughing at shows, and decorating the new room in your house. It felt wonderful.

But one day, you woke him up with bleary eyes and a trembling lip as you told him about the miscarriage. He hugged you until you fell asleep and spent the day cleaning the room, de-assembling everything and packing it away neatly so you didn’t have to go through the stress of looking at all the reminders again.

He heard, heard from Sehun that it wasn’t only because it was embedded in the fallopian tune instead of the uterus, but also because your blood sugar levels were incredibly low. You weren’t taking care of yourself.

He knew you were keeping a strict diet to make sure your appearance on television was good enough to draw in a regular viewing audience, and it was important, professionally, to do so. But on top of all your hectic schedules, the tall heels you were always teetering on, and the irregular schedules and horrible morning sickness....”It all added up,” Sehun explains. “I didn’t tell her because I knew it would kill her. She loves this job, man.”

“Thanks,” Yoongi mumbles, patting Sehun’s arm. “You did good, not telling her that part. I’ll make sure she’s eating okay.”

And he did. Yoongi did his best. He took off more surgeries, more time to make sure he was home when you came home, cooking the healthiest and fullest meals that he’d ever taken care to do. But...what did it do? What good did it do when everytime you came home from work, you’d trudge over to the bedroom and just faceplant onto the bed? You pushed him off whenever he tried to talk, began sighing and mumbling about “alone time” whenever he tried to help, and fell asleep before he could initiate anything.

Cold leftovers were one by one thrown out, while Yoongi’s reputation at the hospital began spiraling down.

After the finger breaking spectacle, he was on thin ice. Already, three surgeries hadn’t gone well under his watch and Seoul Gen had to call for help from a neighboring specialist to come in and monitor his surgeries. A major professional disappointment for the hospital and him.

But then he began taking more time off for the pregnancy, and then the miscarriage a month after, and then the whispers and wry looks started. Maybe it was just him, but was the Chief low-key scheduling him less than compared to the other doctors? His name appeared next to more low-risk surgeries, scheduled the day of and the bigger, most interesting cases were handed off to the other guys in his department.

Frustrated, Yoongi couldn’t do anything. He felt as if his life was a scale: on one side was you, clinging onto a thread attached to his wrist. On the other, was his career and everything he’d worked for, the single reason he met you in the first place. It was also hanging from a thread. Whenever Yoongi reached for the other, one would fall, slipping away through his fingers and he was so scared, so afraid that he would lose it all.

And...he lost you.

The night you brought up the divorce...it was his fault. He’d forgotten about the anniversary. He’d gotten yelled at by the Chief, and had brazenly accepted a difficult 15-hour surgery without hesitation to try and prove that he was still in the game. Unfortunately, his phone was left in his office the whole time and he had missed everything, including his assistants reminders, his personal reminders, your calls, your texts, everything.

That day, the surgery had gone impeccably well, but he’d come home to have the other half of life completely fall apart.

When you laid it in front of him, explaining that you were sick and tired, so so tired of waiting for him, so tired of being “too busy” and so tired just of everything, Yoongi couldn’t say anything.

He was weak. Weak, because he couldn’t hold onto you when you said you were leaving, but also weak, because he had let you believe that he’d stopped loving you.

How could he stop loving you? You were his anchor, his rock, his meaning for everything. He worked hard so that you wouldn’t have to do surgeries. The reason why his mother had laid off of your back? Was because you weren’t doing surgeries anymore, but more “lady-like” things like brunches and television shows. It was because he’d taken on double the load when the both of you became co-leaders.

And maybe his surgeries had gone not-so-well because he’d been busy fending off the new assistant who was obviously interested in him even though he’d told her off multiple times.

“Break up with her,” Jooyoung purred into his ear, weeks before you brought up the divorce, as she and him whizzed through surgeries together.

“I don’t talk about personal issues during surgeries,” Yoongi comments, not taking his eyes off of the tumor he was cauterizing. “And also,” he glances up, glaring at her behind his mouth mask and glasses, “Refrain from talking to me, outside of anything. Forever. Suction, please.”

She rolls her eyes, expertly applying suction to where he instructed. He couldn’t deny, although she was such a meddlesome bitch, she was definitely one of the best surgeons he’d ever seen. Way after you though, of course. Huffing, she continues to hold the skin of the brain aside as he continues probing for the white mass. “You guys don’t even talk. I’ve heard gossip that your marriage has been rocky.”

“Jooyoung.” He warns, glaring up at her again, and she finally shuts up.

Yoongi finds the tumor with ease and finishes up the surgery with no problem at all. Hoseok, the nurse practitioner, follows him out as Yoongi removes his scrubs, eyeing his longtime friend as he sighs and begins cleaning himself.

“You alright man?”

Yoongi sighs. “I don’t know.”

Hoseok joins him at the sink, running his hands and arms through the cold water. “Is it true? T-that you and Y/N have been having problems?”

Sighing, Yoongi shuts off the tap, wiping clean the rest. “Yeah. Not sure how it got around though.”

Hoseok follows him to his office, sitting on his couch as Yoongi collapses into his swivel chair. “Well, have you and Y/N talked about it? I mean, like after the miscarriage and all?”

“I don’t know...” Yoongi sighs, running his hands over his face. “Hoseok...did you and your ex-wife ever have issues like that? Like I mean...it just feels like I don’t even know her anymore, you know?”

Nodding, Hoseok falls back into the cushions, scrolling through something on his phone. “Yeah, we got married right out of nursing school. But our schedules...they just didn’t match. And at one point, it just became that fighting was the only thing keeping our marriage together. Arguing became our only way of communicating anything. And so...I let her go.” He raises his eyebrows, and Yoongi sighs.

“We...don’t even fight. That’s the thing.”

Hoseok shrugs. “I don’t know man, sometimes when the other person wants out, if you love her, letting her go is the best choice. It was for us,” he corrects, reminding Yoongi, “It doesn’t mean that’s what you have to do.”

Yoongi groans, and leans back in his chair.

His phone rings, and he leans forward and presses the receiver to his ear with his eyes still closed. “Hello?”

“Ah, Yoongi, can you come to my office please?”

He sits up, straightening up. “O-oh, Chief. What’s the issue?”

Dr. Bang clears his throat. “Just come here, Yoongi. I’d like to talk to you in person.”

Yoongi nods at Hoseok who leaves with a wave and an empathetic expression and sets the receiver down. He walks over to the office and pushes the nice doors open to find Dr. Bang reading something on his desk. When Yoongi enters, the chief smiles, setting his book down, and gestures for Yoongi to take a seat.

“Yoongi,” he says, father-like and all warm, “I wanted to call you in here because I wanted to tell you in person.” He leans forward, smiling gently. “I’m retiring.”

Yoongi’s eyes widen, “Oh my g--chief, seriously?”

Chief nods, sullenly and nostalgically looking around the office. “My time here has come to an end. I...I wanted to ask, if you were interested in taking my spot.”

Yoongi’s eyes widen. “Ch-chief...I don’t understand...why me?”

Dr. Bang shrugs. “I want to ask you and Y/N to do it together. She couldn’t make it here today, but I’d be most comfortable and at peace to leave it in your hands. You two have been interns, residents, and attendees here for 8 years, and all the other senior attendees have either left or retired early. You both know this hospital, inside and out. There’s no other person I’d be happy leaving this place in its hands.”

Sighing, Yoongi leans back in his chair. “Sir...We....we’re having a lot of trouble lately. I...I can’t take this job. Our marriage...it’s becoming really hard to even be husband and wife together, but if we take this position...I’m sorry chief,” Yoongi says, standing. “I can’t take this. I don’t know how Y/N feels but I for sure can’t take this.”

The chief nods, mulling it over. “And if Y/N wants to take it? You know it’s not going to look good with the Board if they find out your marriage isn’t going well. And...to be honest, the lot of them are old and still don’t believe in a woman being in a superior position than her husband.”

Yoongi hovers by the doorway. “If it’s what she wants...give it to her. I’ll figure something out. I have a feeling our marriage won’t be an issue for long.”

“Come, gather around,” Dr. Bang ushers the rest of the doctors into the meeting room, waiting impatiently for everyone to file in and get seated. “You all come running when there’s an interesting patient but gathering all of you for a meeting feels like I’m trying to run a government.” He rolls his eyes and you chuckle from your place.

As he finishes, Yoongi comes sauntering in, hands stuffed in his gown pockets, collapsing in the leather chair next to yours.

You roll your eyes, turning your chair to the other direction. You crinkle your nose at his attire, still clad in the scrubs he was wearing during his morning surgery. He catches your expression, internally groaning at the lecture he knows is coming.

“Wanna stop glaring lasers at my outfit?” He quips, quirking an eyebrow at you. He’s chewing on a candy bar, just like you’d always nagged at him not to. He always had a habit of eating sweets after a surgery instead of actual meals and good nutritious balanced snacks.

You grumble, as Dr. Bang dims the lights and begins his introduction. “You really couldn’t have taken 3 minutes to go to your office and change into your suit?”

He sighs, finishing the lollipop with a crunch, and shattering it between his molars. “Don’t have time,” he grumbles.

It’s because you were the one who always sent his stuff to the dry cleaners and had his assistant put it back in his closet. Min Yoongi was smart, but had absolutely no idea how to take care of himself. Even with an assistant.

You’d stopped doing him favors once you had that....conversation. Seems like it was taking its toll.

“You never had time for anything.” You mumble, scribbling on the document in front of you. “Also nice of you to actually show up.”

He sighs, “Oh god, stop before you start nagging again. Jeez, let’s just have a meeting where there’s some peace and quiet, yeah?”

You blink, reading through the powerpoint, but not really processing it. “Just...just sign the papers Yoongi.”

He doesn’t respond.

Present

Yoongi walks into the meeting, Jooyoung trailing behind him. You grit your teeth as you squeeze the pen in your hands. Dr. Bang had called a final meeting, and all of you were forced to be here. But you particularly because he was about to announce the next Chief. Jungkook sees the action and gives you a small smile, taking the pen out of your hands and placing it gently out of your reach as you roll your eyes.

“I knew it,” you mutter, “They’re fucking.”

Jungkook sighs, rubbing your shoulder. “Y/N,” he murmurs like you’re a small toddler. “You know Yoongi would never do something like that.”

You sigh, turning to him. “You never know men Jungkook.”

He puts his hands up to protect himself, “Woah woah, okay don’t turn this on me. I’m happily married and have a family.”

Rolling your eyes, you sigh and turn back to the agenda as the lights dim and the Chief takes his place on stage.

“I wanted to call this final meeting to finalize my retirement.” He smiles forlornly, glancing around the huge circular hall of doctors and residents that he’d raised literally from day 1. “It has been a pleasure, and an honor serving you all as Chief of surgery, and I would do it all over again in a heartbeat.

“Doctors,” he continues, “are workaholics with god-complexes, uncapable of truly separating emotions and work. That’s what they say,” he chuckles, “But as I have worked alongside the lot of you, I have never, ever met such a group of passionate young people as you all. You guys put your heart and soul into making this hospital the place that it is. And I am so honored to have been able to call Seoul Gen the place that I have placed all my work, blood, sweat, and tears into. You all have grown, so much. Thank you.

“Now join me in applause as I invite up the next Chief of Surgery to take my place. Y/N Min,” he smiles, holding out an arm to you, and you stand, bowing to the audience as you take your place up on the podium next to him.

Everyone bursts out in applause, and you smile and take the mic, thanking the chief. “Thank you everyone for joining me here today for yet another boring meeting.” Everyone joins you in laughter, and you just smile and continue. “It...it has been an honor serving you as an intern, resident, and attendee, and now co-leader of the neurosurgery department. I can’t imagine spending my life elsewhere, and this has been a dream of mine, to become a Chief that cares about her peers and her patients. I will work incredibly hard, these next few years, alongside you all and will make my best efforts to fill the shoes that Chief Bang is leaving behind, and become someone who makes all of you proud.”

You smile, tears brimming in your eyes as everyone stands in applause, and you see your friends, Jungkook, Taehyung, Jimin and Jin, and even your nurses with Hoseok, and even the nervous scared intern Namjoon whoops in the back of the stadium for you.

Taking the flowers from Suho, you grin and smile, as camera click away and step down from the podium.

Once the meeting is over, you’re bombarded with congrats and hugs from friends and peers, but your eyes linger on Yoongi who hesitates by the doorway, but leaves eventually anyway. Plastering on a smile, you just grin and take pictures anyway, trying not to let your gaze stray towards the entry.

Suho accompanies you to your office, agreeing to join you later to help you gather all your things into boxes and help you move into the Chief’s office.

Setting down the flowers and cards, you pad over to your bookshelf, and begin packing away your old medical books. As you set each leather-bound book neatly into the box, you come across an old booklet and open it with a forlorn smile.

Flipping through the pages, you grin as you read through all the tiny notes you scribbled in the margins during late nights studying. Also, little encouragements dot the corners, like, “Don’t give up!” “Keep going, only 4 more pages,” bring a smile to your face as you perch on the edge of your desk.

Never did you realize, that you’d be acheiving your dream so quickly. All you wanted when you walked into this hospital 8 years ago with a huge smile on your face, was to ultimately become a Chief. And you’d done it, slowly working your way up from a measly intern into the next chief of Surgery.

But as you flip to page 254, your finger stops as your smile falls. Nestled into the pages, is a polaroid of you and Yoongi, smiling up into the camera, and in the bottom, you’d sharpied in the date.

It was from your third date, when you and he were still infatuated with each other.

You run your fingers over the glossy material, feeling your heart twinge at the view of Yoongi’s gummy smile next to yours. You both were so young...so innocent and so ambitious. It was a fun date.

“What are your goals?” You ask him, at the diner near the hospital.

“Huh?” He frowns at you, a fry hanging out of his mouth. “What do you mean?”

You shrug, taking a thoughtful sip from your shake. “I don’t know, we’re interns, and then we’re gonna become residents and all...but like ultimately, you know? What do you wanna do?”

He stares down at the burger in his hands, and chews slowly. “I...I don’t know.” He says. “I never really thought about it. I guess...just become an attending and just make enough money to retire early?”

You laugh, and he looks up at you, wiping a bit of ketchup from the corner of your mouth. “Really? Yoongi! You’re so competitive, I never thought you’d have such normal dreams.”

He snorts, “Normal? Fine then,” he says, leaning forward with a wicked grin, “What are your dreams?”

You grin at him, answering immediately. “Chief.”

Yoongi’s eyes widen. “Ch-chief? Chief of Surgery?”

You nod, grinning as he whistles. “Damn...that’s like...another decade or so.”

Shrugging, you finish off your chicken strips. “Yeah, but I’ve always wanted to do that. To become...a chief who cares you know? I want it more than anything else.”

He nods thoughtfully, “Well,” he agrees, “I’ll help you.”

Your eyes widen. “Seriously?”

Laughing, he sips his soda. “Damn right. I’ll do whatever I can to make sure you get that position.”

Sighing down at the photo you set it aside on your desk. You’d achieved everything professionally. But you were also stuck in the middle of a divorce situation, and there was nothing else that would change that. You had everything, but your marriage and love life, was collectively one thing that you’d lost completely.

Closing the book, you raise your chin to survey the shelves of your bookcase, reaching up to bring down a picture frame of you and Yoongi’s wedding day. You’re clad in a beautiful dress, although heavy and ultimately chosen by your mother-in-law, you remember Yoongi’s face when he saw you in it.

“Yoongi, you gotta say something,” you giggle, grinning up at him. Spinning on your heel, you hold your arms out. “How do I look?”

He just stares down at you, slackjawed, and then you realize his eyes are red and wet.

“Oh my god, Yoongi, are you crying?!” You gasp, and the photographer snaps away at the sight as you laugh at him. “Oh babe,” you whisper, holding his cheeks in your hands. “Please don’t cry. Or else you’ll make me cry, and then I’ll be mad that you made me ruin my makeup. Don’t even mention what your mother would do if I did that.”

The last part makes Yoongi chuckle, as he sniffles and wipes his eyes with his hands, holding you at arms length to take a good look at you. “You...” he hiccups, “Look so beautiful.”

He leans in and kisses you, hands cradling your jaw and your fingers curl around his wrists as the photographer clicks away at the beautiful scene. “You’re perfect,” he coos against your lips. “So perfect, so beautiful. You’re everything I ever wanted. The dress is beautiful.”

You laugh, grinning into his lips. “You know your mother chose it. It itches so much, and it’s so damn heavy.”

Grinning, he leans in closer to your ear so only you can hear what he says next.

“Then it’ll feel much better when I rip it off of you later.”

“Yoongi!”

You set down the frame, closing the stand and setting it face down into a box with the rest of your things. You finish off most of the books, leaving behind a few folders and things for Suho to pass onto the filing department.

Suddenly, there’s a knock on your door. “Come in,” you call out, and turn to see its Yoongi.

Setting down the books you were holding, you watch him come in. “Busy?” he says nervously, ditching his usually sarcastic tone for a softer one.

Still feeling a bit nostalgic, you reply similarly. “No,” you sigh, dusting your hands off. “Just...clearing a few things up.”

He looks down at the books, nodding. “Oh, right.”

A silence ensues, and you swallow heavily, not knowing what to say.

He speaks up. “I...congrats. I came here to say congrats.”

You smile a bit, clasping your hands together. “Thanks.”

“It’s what you’ve always wanted, isn’t it?”

You nod, perching on your desk. “Yeah...” you trail off, not knowing what else to say to him. He looks so tired. You want to reach out to his face and smooth back the wrinkles in between his eyebrows like you always did, but you can’t. Usually you would encourage him to take a nap before he tried driving home. When he looked like that...he just happened to always doze off on the wheel.

But you can’t even move forward to reach for him.

“Here,” he says, holding out a manila folder. “I....I signed them.”

Your eyes widen as you reach out to take them from him. Your breath leaves your lungs, huffing out from your nose. “You...you’re going through with this huh?” You ask him, eyes stinging.

He meets your gaze. “It’s what you wanted.” He says softly, “I promised. I promised to do whatever it took to get you here.”

Frowning, you step towards him but he’s already leaving. “Wait, Yoongi, what?”

The door closes shut behind him and you stop, lips trembling and tears already falling down your face.

In just a few moments, your marriage had completely ended. He didn’t even try to hold on to you. He didn’t even try.

“I...I want a divorce, Yoongi.” you’d said, perched on your vanity, form slumped forward as you delivered the words to him.

He didn’t even flinch. “Is...is that what you want?”

Your eyes lift up to him. Was that all he was going to say? “What?” You frown up at him.

He sighs, running his hand over his face tiredly. “If that’s what you want...then I’ll do it.”

You frown, rolling your eyes exasperatedly. “Seriously? That’s it?”

“What...what do you want me to say, Y/N?” He says, throwing his hands up in the air. “All we do is fight. No, no. We don’t even fight,” he laughs bitterly. “We don’t even talk to each other dammit. And I can see how much it hurts you. If it makes you happier to just stop it here...then lets do it.” He says bitterly, staring up at you with red-rimmed eyes.

You bite your lip, body trembling with anger and betrayal. “Fine,” you grit out, “Get out.” you point towards the door with a shaking arm, other hand clasped in a fist.

He doesn’t even argue with you, hastily grabbing his keys and wallet from the nightstand before stalking out. Before the door slams, he bitterly calls out. “Just know that I tried. This is what you want!”

The slam echoes throughout the house that you and he built and designed together.

You let the arm drop to your side as you collapse onto the ground, cries racking your entire body and shoulders shaking as you bury your head into your arms, rocking back and forth as you cry yourself to sleep on the carpet near the bed.

Finishing the rest of the bookshelf is harder with the weight of the completed divorce papers on your desk, glaring back at you in its white glory. You’d opened it, and gazed at the scratch of Yoongi’s handwriting in the end, the date scribbled neatly next to his loopy signature. Alongside it, was your own version. You finish the rest of your room, emptying out your desk drawers and closets and packing them neatly into boxes.

Suho comes in and takes away all the boxes, leaving you standing in the empty office with just the folder in your hand. You don’t know why you didn’t give it to him when he came by.

But you realize now, sitting in the empty office that was once designed perfectly to be right next to your husbands, that Yoongi’s action of handing you the finalized papers was his way of letting you make a final decision.

You laugh bitterly. It was always like that. He never fought for it. He just kept saying that he’d let you do what you wanted. You sigh, as you take slow steps outside, to where you know Suho is sitting in his office. All you had to do was hand the papers over to him...and it would be over. 8 years of marriage. It would just be over.

When you turn the handle to your office, your phone buzzes in your white coat. Frowning, you tuck the papers under your arm as you open the call from an unknown number.

“Hello?”

“Hello? Is this Mrs. Min?” Someone says over the receiver.

Frowning, you walk over to Suho’s desk, and lean on the counter as you answer. “Yes....what can I help you with?”

The person says slowly. “Mrs. Min, your husband was in a four-way car collision. You’re gonna have to come to the emergency room.”

You ditch the heels, chucking them somewhere as you run from your office towards the elevators.

Jamming your finger into the button, you cry hysterically as you push it over and over, but the elevator is on a totally different floor. Screaming in frustration, you throw open the door to the stairs and climb the six flights down to the emergency room, whipping around to see if Yoongi had gotten here yet.

There, in the entrance, the sirens of an ambulance wail in the distance and you see a few gurneys being rolled in. Scampering up to them, you look at the faces until you see a familiar one.

“YOONGI!” You yell, running up to the gurney being wheeled in. His face is pale, and his lip is busted, blood running down his brow and chin.

“Miss!” The paramedic yells, trying to wrestle you away. “You can’t be here!”

You realize you forgot your white coat and your heels, and look like a complete stranger. Suddenly, Taehyung comes up to the gurney, putting his stethsoscope into his ears. “She’s with me,” he breathes out, and you nod as you help wheel the gurney into the room.

The paramedic reads out, “34 year old male, involved with a four-car collision in the freeway. Unconscious from head injury against the wheel and inherent malnutrition and exhaustion. Collarbone shattered on impact, and probably a few broken ribs.”

You breathe out in relief, shoulders slumping as you watch him be transported onto the hospital gurney. “So...he’s ok?!”

The paramedic nods, “We’re sorry for the alarming phone call, but he wasn’t responding well to the painkillers.”

You nod, wiping your face with your hand. “Yeah...he’s allergic to the usual one.”

The paramedic nods, leaving silently and Taehyung cuts open Yoongi’s shirt to see bruises littering his torso. His shoulder is bruised nastily and you can see the odd disfiguration. Yoongi’s skin is absolutely pale and his cheeks look so ghaunt.

“Jeez,” Taehyung whispers as nurses scurry around your husband, hooking him up to machines and such. “That’s a nasty break. He’s probably gonna have to go into surgery for the collarbone. But he’ll be alright. Don’t worry Y/N. We’ll schedule one right away.”

You nod, collapsing into the chair, and scooting up to look at your husband. “Jesus,” you breathe, “You really scared me.” You whisper at him, reaching out to curl a hand over his calf. “You...you really scared me Yoongi.”

You don’t even have anymore energy to cry as Yoongi is wheeled into surgery and Ortho begins to repair the ribs and the collarbone. Sitting, slumped in the waiting room, you spin the wedding ring around on your finger, a habit since you started wearing it.

Kihyun exits the ward an hour later, removing his mask, and smiling at you. “He’s fine, Y/N. Don’t worry. He’ll just be confined to a bed for about 6 weeks, but he’ll be okay once he goes through PT and all.”

You nod, biting your lip. “He’ll be off of the anesthesia soon right? How much did you give him?”

Kihyun frowns at the clock. “Ah, it should be wearing off by now. He’s in the VIP ward.”

You thank him and run to the room, throwing open the door and running up to him laying down on the huge bed.

“Yoongi,” you whisper, and he groans, eyebrows furrowing as he comes to. “Yoongi, can you hear me?”

He blinks groggily, frowning up at you and squinting at the light. “W-what...what? What’s going on, Y/N?”

You smile, breathing out exasperatedly, tears now flowing freely as you collapse onto the bed, burying your face in his hand as you cry. “Oh my god...” you wail, “Thank you...” you say to no one in particular. “Thank you...”

“What’s going on?” He croaks, frowning at his surroundings.

You blink up at him, wiping away your tears. “Y-you fell asleep at the wheel, Yoongi. And then you hit your head on your wheel and lost consciousness immediately and broke your clavicle and four ribs. You just came out of surgery from ortho, but you’re gonna be alright.”

He frowns down at the IV plugged into his hand and the thick cast wrapped around his torso. Blinking groggily at his surroundings, he zeroes in on you. His hand twitches but he doesn’t do or say anything as he observes your swollen eyes and blotchy cheeks.

You both sit in silence for a while, just warily watching each other.

You speak first. “You....you became unconscious because you’re malnourished. And they diagnosed you as extreme fatigue. Are you okay?”

He just watches you, eye bags drooping down to his cheeks. Your hand twitches, wanting to reach out and smooth his cheek. But you just wait for him to respond.

He chuckles a bit, and winces when it puts strain on his broken collarbone. You watch him calm down, and he just gives you a sad smile.

You clear your throat, grabbing the files at the foot of his bed and reading through his documents with shaking hands. Taehyung had been pretty detailed in his reports, careful to make suggestions and little notes here and there for you.

Flipping through the pages you wince at the amount of painkillers he’s gonna need, and walk over to lift his free hand that’s not wrapped up in his cast. Maneuvering it around a bit, you hum, adding a few more notes.

“Your left hand is okay, but you’re gonna have to be careful with your right hand. Which means no heavy lifting for this week and even being careful when using it for menial tasks.”

He groans, wincing as he tries to sit up. You rush over and help press the button for the bed to stay propped up. “Even that!” you nag, sighing at the way he groans at the movement.

“Here, drink this first.” You grab him a cup of water and lift it to his lips, watching as he carefully obliges, taking huge gulps of water. Setting the cup down, you take a seat next to his bed, and as if on cue, the nurse comes in, wheeling the day’s meal.

You thank her and accept the tray, and set it up on his bed tray. He takes the spoon, movements slow and groggy as he spoons a bit of soup into his mouth, nodding at the taste.

But because he only has his left hand free, he fumbles a bit and struggles to cut the pieces of kimchi, unable to use chopsticks in his left. You sigh and grab them from him, splitting the cabbage with the chopsticks in your hand and placing it on his spoon. “Here,” you mutter.

Yoongi watches you carefully, eyes lifting toward you in an odd expression before he eats the kimchi, spooning soup and rice into his mouth after.

“You don’t have to...” He mutters, as you carefully choose side dishes to place onto his spoon.

You just give him a blank look. “You can barely even take care of the clothes you wear, how am I supposed to trust that you can even take care of that arm? Don’t you know how important it is for a surgeon to take care of his limbs?”

He stops, the spoon halfway between his bowl and mouth. “So...this is just because you’re the chief now, right? Because you need to take care of your surgeons?”

Your eyes widen, dropping the piece of fish you’d picked up. You blink, catching yourself and grabbing the protein and putting it on his spoon. “Yes,” You whisper, focusing on watching the way his spoon moves slowly towards his mouth. “Yeah, I guess.”

He nods, humming and the both of you fall into a comfortable silence.

“Oh,” you comment, “also, I saw on your charts that you had a fracture in your finger not too long ago...” You trail off, and Yoongi looks up at you with a grimace.

“Yeah,” he says, voice a bit hoarse. “Why?”

You blink, uncomfortably shifting. “Um, what happened?”

He sets down his spoon, washing down his food with a swig of water. Clearing his throat, he just sloshes the water around in his cup as he answers you. “I-I slammed it in the car door.”

“Where?” You balk.

“At the flower shop across the street.”

“And why were you there? Why in such a rush? You’re usually not that clumsy.” You comment, frowning.

He shrugs, “I was getting you flowers.”

Oh.

“Oh,” you clear your throat, blinking a bit. “Um, and then you were in a rush?”

He picks up the spoon again and begins eating. “Yeah, but by the time I got a cast for it, I had another surgery so I couldn’t go home that day. Flowers were dead since they were stuck in my car all day.”

You fall into silence as he continues chewing.

He frowns and frets at certain side dishes but you give him a glare that silences him and he finishes the entire thing with a burp and a content sigh. It was the first time you’d seen him finish any kind of meal in a long time. No wonder his weight was at such an all time low. He hadn’t even been taking care of his meals.

The nurse enters again to pick up the meal. Yoongi calls out to her, “God, I feel gross. Can I wash up now?”

“Oh!” she says, right before she leaves, “You can take baths now. Would you like for us to send a nurse later?” She turns to you with a smile.

“Ye---” “No,” you butt in, cutting him off and smilling at the nurse. “I can do it for him, it’s fine.”

She smiles and takes her leave, leaving Yoongi with a sour look on his face. “She could’ve just done it.” He mutters, leaning back into his pillows.

You glare at him, stuffing your hands in your pockets and surveying the restroom that has a nice tub in it. “Well,” you sigh, “No one knows about the divorce yet and it’s not like I haven’t seen anything either. Also Chief Bang was able to cancel a lot of my appointments for this month so I can help take care of you. The Board and the panel understood it when they heard you were caught up in an accident.”

Yoongi nods, letting you walk over and slowly help him up, onto a wheelchair. You push him right up against the sink, where he can tip his head back far as his collarbone allows, and then you use the hose from the bath to begin rinsing his hair.

Careful not to get water or soap in his eye, you smooth back the strands on his forehead, running your fingers through his hair and cupping it on the back of his nape to make sure that area got wet too. Grabbing a handful of shampoo, you begin lathering, gently combing through the strands and rubbing at his scalp, massaging and washing with the pads of your fingertips. The only sounds in the restroom is of the running water and the sounds of your lathering, but it’s quite comforting, especially after all the craziness that happened today.

As you massage, you recall all the events. You got position of chief, you moved out of your office, Yoongi signed the divorce papers finally, and then you’d received the call about the accident. It was a hell of a day, even for a surgeon.

When his hair is relatively clean, you rinse it out, and then finish off with some conditioner before washing it out completely. Grabbing a towel, you wrap his head as he sits up, and you turn him around to look straight at the mirror as you begin to towel off his hair.

Yoongi watches you through the mirror, watching through the strands of his wet hair the way you crinkle your brow a bit when you’re concentrated and thinking hard, and the softness of the way you towel off the strands at the base of his neck.

This...this was a thing for the both of you. Sometimes, when either of you were on shift and the other wasn’t, you’d come home with an exhausted face and sometimes Yoongi would wash your hair for you. Not because you couldn’t, but it was...it was nice. And vice versa.

He sighs as he watches you, drowned out by the way you click on the hair dryer and begin blasting through his strands, fingers carefully combing through his locks to make sure it dries evenly. When you finish, you smooth back the frizzy pieces, cocking your head at it.

“Your hair got really long,” you comment, smoothing it down where it reaches past his earlobe.

“Hm?” he looks at himself, turning his head slightly to see. “Oh, didn’t even notice.”

You frown, walking around him to also do the same on the other side, frowning when the ends of his hair touch the edge of his jaw. “Jesus, Yoongi,” you breathe, “Do you seriously not have any time to get your hair cut?”

He wants to shrug but he can’t. So instead he just chuckles a bit. “Yeah, unfortunately.”

You groan. “Wait here.” You jog out of the ward, leaving Yoongi to stare at himself in the mirror. He sees the signs. His face is much more gaunt and thin, the stubble on his chin growing out and making a shadow on his grey skin. His lips are pale and the hollows of his eyes dark and deep. In addition, there’s quite a nasty cut on his brow bone. It was probably why you were being so careful when you were washing his hair. Yeah. It wasn’t anything more.

You return, weilding a pair of surgical scissors.

Yoongi balks. “What the hell?” He tries to turn in his chair but winces at the movement, unable to do much besides just warily watch you evilly snap the scissors open and shut with a smile.

“I’m gonna cut it.” You announce, wrapping a new towel around his shoulders like a makeshift bib. Leaning down, you grip the sides of his head to make him sit straight, and lean down behind him to start snipping. Yoongi groans, “Don’t tell me you learned the whole hair cutting thing from Seokjin.”

You laugh behind him, and he feels the warmth of your breath on his nape. “Actually, I did.”

Yoongi groans. “Are you kidding me? I’ve seen the way he cuts his hair and I’m telling you that idiot has just wasted so much more money trying to get his hair fixed from the way he ruined it, rather than the way he was supposed to cut it.”

You laugh, moving around him to do his sides. “Chill,” you coax, “Don’t be such a lil baby.”

He glares at you from the side, as you oddly cheerily snip away at his hairs. The tense and silent, nice, atmosphere is lifted, where it was fake smiles and awkward touches. But now, you touch him with more familiarity, and although your touches are a bit more rough, they’re not any less gentle. Its almost like when you’d first started...dating.

But Yoongi pushes that memory to the back of his mind, instead honing in on the sound of the sharp scissors cutting away all of his precious hair.

When you finish, you clean the rest of his hair and carefully wipe away any stray pieces of hair stuck to his neck and ears. When you look up to see his expression in the mirror, you see that he’s dozing off, eyes drooping heavily and head slowly beginning to fall down.

You grin to yourself, finishing up cleaning and carefully wheeling him back towards the bed.

“Yoongi,” you whisper, gently patting his shoulder. “You should sleep on the bed if you’re feeling tired.”

He just groggily nods at you, too tired to argue back as you help him up, his good arm wrapped around your shoulder as you support him to sit on the hospital bed. You move around the bed to tuck in the sheets around his body once he’s situated, and then take a seat next to him, just observing the way his lashes flutter against his cheeks and his head lolls to the side as his mouth falls slightly open.

Yoongi’s a really quiet sleeper, you noticed during your years of knowing him. He barely snores or talks in his sleep, and even barely moves. His face always looks like he’s dead, no expression or strength in it. But today, Yoongi looks incredibly tired, not just because of his fatigue, but you can clearly see the signs of aging in the way his smile lines are carved deep into his jaw and the crease between his eyebrows that gets deeper with every frown he puts on.

His skin is becoming much less glossy and now has a greyer hue to it while the skin under his eyes is becoming almost permanently tinted with a darker bluer shade from all his sleepless nights.

You reach up, smoothing back a piece of hair that sits on his forehead and then curving down his jaw towards his chin, where you can feel a bit of stubble beginning to grow a bit too prickly. You make a mental note to do that for him tomorrow.

Sighing, you sit back in your chair, and feel a crinkle in the pocket of your doctor gown. Frowning, you sit up and produce the manila folder, all crinkled up, from the pocket of your gown. The divorce papers.

Smoothing down the edges and the wrinkles, you remove the inside contents and survey the loopy scrawl of Yoongi’s handwriting in the papers. His address, his phone number, his security information, are all written neatly into the columns and rows, and in the final page, his signature and date are written into the two lines that legally separate you and him from your marriage.

You sigh as your eyes skim through the contents.

One packet, 4 papers.

One more visit to the lawyer’s office and then it would be final: 5 years of marriage, 2 years of dating, and 1 year of knowing eachother as interns and best friends and partners, all down the drain. All neatly filed away. All drawn behind a line.

You fold the paper back into its tiny little crumpled state and stuff it back into your pocket.

Especially when Yoongi was in the hospital like this, you couldn’t do that to him now. 8 years of knowing eachother, it was the least you could do for him. Not now.

Leaning forward in your chair, you lean a cheek on the bed mattress, eye-level with his hand that’s wrapped up in a cast from shoulder to elbow. You reach forward and lightly rest your fingertips on top of his, thumb smoothing over the taught skin on his knuckles.

“Stay fucking still!” You hiss, as Yoongi grunts and glares as you lean forward to slide the blade carefully over his jawline.

He winces as the razor scrapes a bit harshly against his sensitive skin, but you just glare at him when there’s no blood. “Oh hush, don’t be a little bitch about this, I didn’t even draw blood yet.”

“Yet?” he frets, slumping as he leans against the sink. “I asked you to help me with only the left side! You didn’t have to go over this side again!”

“Oh my god, you didn’t even do that side correctly, that’s why I’m doing it again! God, stop talking so I can finish here!” You carefully twist the razor against the ball of his adam’s apple, careful not to apply too much pressure against the uneven bumps and ridges under his skin.

He just watches you, standing between his legs as he leans against the sink counter, eyes furrowed as you observe where any more hairs are straggling as you shave the rest of his neck.

“You know,” he mutters, and you hum in response to let him know that you’re listening. “My...my mom asks about you a lot.”

You pause in your shaving and your eyes flicker up to his hooded ones. His expression is one of confusion, eyes dark and moody as he stares at the opposite bathroom wall. “Oh really,” you comment, humming and resuming sliding the shaver over his chin.

“Mhm,” his voice vibrates under the skin you’re shaving, and his adam’s apple bobs a bit as he swallows nervously. “She...she wants to see you.”

You frown and stand up straight, staring up at Yoongi suspisciously. “Seriously? She wants to see me? I’d feel much better hearing that she wants to murder me.”

He chuckles a bit, itching his nose. “She really likes you, Y/N...” he mumbles, watching your expression. You just shake your head and sigh, squirting a bit more shaving gel onto your finger to smooth it over the crook in his jaw where you missed a few hairs.

“You know she drove me crazy...” you mutter, finishing the spot. “I seriously drove myself crazy trying to cater to her.”

He clears his throat. “I know you’ve been doing a lot but...please go see her. She’s...she’s not doing well. My dad has been really absent lately and our divorce has gotten her into a weird mood and she keeps asking for you, saying some stuff how there’s no one in her life who listened to her as well as you did...and...” he trails off, eyes flickering up to yours in desperate but silent asks.

You sigh, running the razor under water and cleaning up. “I...I don’t know Yoongi. I haven’t seen her since we told her about the divorce. I really don’t think she’d want to see the woman who dumped her precious son.”

He trails after you into the room, settling down on the bed while you perch on the chair next to it. “I know, which was why I was careful about bringing it up to you. Just...” he breathes in through his nose. “Please. I...I lost a lot of things recently, please don’t let me lose her too. This is the best that I can do. She won’t talk to me.”

You sigh, placing his meal on his bed tray. “Fine, but you owe me.”

He smiles, gummy teeth appearing as he looks up at you appreciatively. “What do you want?”

You laugh, helping him open the sealed yogurt. “I want the rights to the car you bought me. And the tapestry we bought in Egypt.”

He grins, “Deal. Now feed me this yogurt.”

“He’s gonna need two more surgeries,” Dr. Moon tells you, scanning through the charts. “One more to fix that horrible collarbone, and another to make sure that all the glass shards are out. Only the first one will require any heavy anesthesia. Just keep him hydrated and don’t let him eat anymore solids and we’ll be fine.”

You nod, thanking him as he leaves, and you watch as Yoongi’s already-grumpy expression descends into absolute glowering. “Are you fucking kidding me?” He hisses, curling his lip in disgust. “No more solids? Do they fucking want to kill me?”

You roll your eyes, crossing your legs as you review some documents and paperwork from Chief Bang. “Shut up,” you groan, “they only let you eat recently because you were so dehydrated they were scared to extend the operation. This is your fault. Since when did you stop taking care of yourself, geez. Yoongi, you’re literally almost ten pounds lighter than when I first met you. Don’t they say that thirtys bring on the most weight? What happened to you?”

He sighs, slumping back in his pillows. “I don’t know. It was just...busy. I didn’t have time to even pee, with all those surgeries, so I guess I just stopped remembering to eat and drink too.”

You roll your eyes again, tsking at him. “Stupid. Here, drink this.” You hand him a cup of water and he takes it gratefully, gulping it down as he watches you pour over the paperwork. “What’s that?”

You hum, nibbling on your pen. “Some paperwork about the new back-up energy generator. We’re changing it on Friday to make sure that even in blackouts, the surgery ward is still supplied with enough energy. I have to sign off on it, and it’s my first important thing as the new chief.” You look up at him giddly, “Wanna see?”

He nods, and you hand over the folder, and he scrunitizes the tiny print with a wrinkled brow. “God,” he hisses, handing it back to you. “This is what Chief is being about? Paperwork and having to read fine print? I hate that stuff.”

You giggle, “Well, that’s why I have a law minor and you don’t. This stuff to me is better than any movie or drama. I love it.”

You don’t see, because your eyes are back to scouring the page for any minute details that might end up becoming an issue later on, but Yoongi watches you warmly, eyes drooping eventually until he lapses into a deep sleep.

You’re disturbed moments later when your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you pick up, surprised to see it’s your mother in law. Or....ex-mother in law.

“Hello?” You pick up, setting the paperwork down to exit Yoongi’s ward. “Mother, it’s...been a while.”

“Yes, Y/N, it has...” she trails off, her voice sounding a bit less harsh and more frail than the last time you remembered it.

“Can...can I help you with something, mother?” You ask carefully, leaning against the wall. She’s silent for a moment before chuckling a bit. “I...I don’t even know why I called you, dear.” She sighs, “I guess I have no one else to talk to, besides you.”

You frown. “What do you mean? You have so many friends who love to listen to you.”

She sighs, clucking her tongue. “I mean, I do!” She corrects, too prideful to admit the reality. “But...but sometimes there are things that I just need to talk to you about.”

“Anything on your mind, mother? I can listen to you,” you offer, and she begins talking.

“I-I...I realize now when I’m in and out of Yoongi’s ward to take care of him, that I barely got to know him. I need your help, he doesn’t really have much to say to him and same with me, I...I don’t even know my son anymore.”

You hum, not knowing what to say. She asks, “What kind of food does he like?”

You frown, “Wh-what food?”

She sighs, “Yes, what food does he like to eat? I packed him some healthy ox-tail soup the other day but he only took a few bites out of it and left the rest. I don’t even know what he wants anymore.”

You sigh, picking at your nails. “Yoongi doesn’t like soups that much, he prefers spicy and salty and savory things. Which is bad, I know,” you chuckle when she makes a sound of disgust, “But I balance out that unhealthy obsession of his by forcing him to eat his salad first before he gets to the meal. He also doesn’t really like anything that’s too hot. Prefers mildly warmed.”

“Oh also,” you add with a smile, “Yoongi is on bed rest for the rest of the week because he has surgery soon. So don’t worry about bringing him food for the next few days, mother, because he’s also on a no-solids diet, and I’ve been taking a few shifts here and there to make sure he’s getting his nutrients and drinking his juice.”

“Oh, Y/N...” she says, her voice trembling a bit. “I...I just wanted to say thank you.”

“Oh, mother, you don’t have to--”

“No, Y/N. I do. After Yoongi’s father left the house last week, it’s been really hard and I got some time to think about how I treated those around me. And I realized that the only person who really put up completely with the worst of me was you. And still, here you are, assuring me that you’ll take care of my son and telling me about his preferences...I-I have nothing to say as your mother in law, and I’m just so, so sad that you two are parting ways and I--”

“Mother,” you cut her off before she goes into another tirade about your divorce. “It’s...it’s fine, really. Yoongi and I, we have so much history together that even though our marriage might not have worked, I still appreciate and love and support him very much. And I know he does the same. You don’t owe me anything for this, I chose this.”

She agrees and continues to thank you, and you both end the call with closure, and you lean back against the wall, sighing as the tiredness of the day completely washes over you. You’re about to call it a day and go inside to gather your things, when Jungkook shows up, moments after the call.

“Noona,” he calls out, walking up to you with a small smile, “Wanna go get drinks with me?”

You sigh, smiling up at him. “Why?”

He shrugs, scuffing at his feet. “Heard you on the phone with Mrs. Min, and assumed you’d need to just relax after that.”

You smile, feeling content. “No...it was...it was a good talk. It wasn’t tiring at all.” His eyebrows shoot up in surprise, “But I’m still down for a drink right about now though. Yoongi’s asleep.” You finish, and smile as you check your watch.

Jungkook grins, and leads you to the bar across the street, taking a seat on the bar and waving at the familiar face bartending the counter. Shownu hands you both your regular drinks, and you sigh as you wash down the familiar taste of the margarita down.

“So,” Jungkook begins, stirring his whiskey. “How’s it been?”

You sigh, drumming your fingers against the countertop. “Hard. It’s been a while since I’ve had to do so many administration stuff, but hopefully it’s just temporary while I figure out how to get settled the fastest way possible.”

He raises his brows. “That’s it?”

Frowning, you take another sip. “What?”

Avoiding your eye contact, he swirls the ice cube in his glass around, watching the dark liquid slosh around it absentmindedly. “I mean,” he tries, carefully choosing his words, “with Yoongi hyung being admitted and everything...”

“Oh..” you say, having really nothing else to add to what he was implying. “It’s...different.”

“Good different?”

“Just...different.” You hesitate, blinking up at him. “I don’t know. It’s just weird...honestly it feels like nothing changed, like we’re married again and we didn’t get a divorce or anything but I know I shouldn’t be thinking like that.”

“Why not?” Jungkook asks, finishing his drink and waving down another one. “You don’t still have feelings for him or anything do you?”

You stare down at the pale yellow of the new cocktail that Shownu has given you, fingers stopping playing with the tiny mint leaf placed on the top. Shaking your head, you squeeze your eyes shut for a second to erase the momentary odd feeling. “No,” you say a little too loudly, “I’m the one who brought the divorce up. It wouldn’t be fair for me to feel that way. I don’t have that right.”

Jungkook chuckles a bit into his drink, doe eyes crinkling at you. You frown, “What’you laughing about?”

He grins, “Noona, don’t you remember what you told me when I was all scared about my own relationship? You told me that when two people are in love, they lose all their rights, because they give them up. For each other. You’re the one who said that when you told me to go get her.”

You frown, “That was in a differen--”

“No, noona,” he cuts you off, patting your shoulder. “Literally everyone in this damn hospital can see that you and Yoongi hyung still have feelings for each other. There...there were just a few bumps in the road, that’s all. I really, truly, believe that you and him can figure this out. You guys are the strongest people I know.” He says, eyes sparkling like the way they used to as an intern, a little measly punk who was placed under your own residency.

“Just go tell him,” he whispers.

“How do you even know he still has feelings for me?” You whisper, eyes blurring a bit at the tears that threaten to spill over. “He agreed to the divorce.”

“Noona,” he murmurs, “I...I just heard this in passing but the Board was gonna give Chief to Yoongi hyung only, just because he’s a guy and the man of the family and all that. But Yoongi hyung never wanted that. He knew you wanted that, more than anything. So when you brought the divorce up, he accepted it. All he wanted was for you to be happy, don’t you see? Him letting you go was the best way he knew at the moment to love you.”

That night, later when you get back to the hospital, the hallways are quiet and still, save for the occasional family visit or the bustle of nurse’s feet down the hallway. You slowly make your way down the hall, strolling and tucking your cold hands in the pockets of your coat as you survey the brightly lit walls of the hospital you were practically born and raised in.

In these halls was the place you first met Yoongi, where you fell in love with Yoongi, where you worked after marrying Yoongi, and where you had and lost your first child with Yoongi. Every inch of the hospital was a daily reminder of how much you had gone through together.

But as you take one foot in front of the other, you really ponder about what exactly went wrong. It...was so hard to try and remember now.

It was a culmination of things: the miscarriage, the forgotten anniversary, the busy schedules, the stress of his mother in law, and the mundane-ness of your marriage. They all happened and bombarded your lives so fast and so quickly and painfully that at one point, you couldn’t take it anymore.

But now, as you walk the halls, a bit buzzed and thinking back to what Jungkook said, it’s odd that you thought you couldn’t handle it.

You weren’t smart. Naturally, like the others. Throughout college and medical school, while others read a chapter once and understood it, you had to go home and re-read it three times, make flashcards, take notes, practice problems, and watch videos online to learn the same thing. You had to work your ass off to get where you were, and to be honest, your body and your psyche had seen worse during those years.

You suffered through depression and anxiety as you watched your friends excel at things you fell behind on. You poured yourself into studying so much that it stressed you out and you became overweight, and then in an effort to lose the weight suffered from an eating disorder. You barely could handle relationships at all with guys because you were so emotionally unavailable and distracted. It was a miracle you still had friends who stuck with you and your messes throughout med school.

You’d done it all. All by yourself.

And Yoongi. He was such a breath of fresh air. He was someone who was smart, who was naturally good. But he also worked hard, and he never failed to encourage you throughout your internship together, and even in your relationship, always praised your for your talents, not your flaws. He made it easier. He explained things to you that you would have never understood. He tutored you on procedures on the exchange of you demonstrating your best stitches that ultimately caught the attention of the higher surgeons. He took care of you, even if it didn’t seem like it, and always put you first.

So why had you, in the heat of the moment and the culmination of all the bad things that had gone in your life, given up so quickly on Yoongi?

Maybe it was the way that your finally perfect life was crumbling to an end. Maybe it was the way that Yoongi agreed too quickly, not really trying too hard to convince you otherwise. Maybe it was the way that for once in your life, you felt accomplished when you saw the positive pregnancy test and had something other than Yoongi and work in your life to live for. And then you lost it.

You don’t know.

Finally rounding the corner to Yoongi’s ward, you stare up at the paper on the wall inscribed with Yoongi’s name and peer through the small door, watching Yoongi perched up on the bed, signing documents and probably going over his patient records with a keen eye. Turning against the wall beside the door, you lean against it and slide down, crouching down and sitting on the cold glossy floors.

Putting your hand into your pocket, you produce the ring that he gave you and turn it over in your hands. It’s a gorgeous damn ring.

“Oh my god, Yoongi, how much did you even pay for this?” You ask him, hand stretched out wide in front of the both of you as you nestle into his naked chest. He’d asked you to marry him with it, and you’d only ever noticed how heavy it was on your finger until now, after a couple hours of heavy love-making.

He rolls his eyes. “Too damn much if you ask me,” he grumbles, and you giggle against his neck.

“I love it,” you croon, arm sliding around his waist and nestling into his warmth, his smell. Everything is Yoongi right now. The bedsheets surrounding you smell like him, the dark and monochrome furniture and the cluttered books on the bookshelves against the farthest wall so indicative of Yoongi’s style. The moon shines through the crack between the blinds, dim enough not to illuminate everything, but bright enough on his 7th floor apartment to show you the beautiful lines of his face.

The slope of his eyes downward that soften his always tired features. The flutter of his long eyelashes against his pale cheeks. The way his lips, although always turned down in a frown, curve slightly upwards at the ends, as if mischievously scheming a prank or a joke, and the pout of his lower lip that made him so much cuter.

The way his fingers, long and knobby, wrapped around your shoulders and stroked the soft skin of your shoulder. His legs tangled within yours and skin slightly damp but warm from the sex earlier. The way the beautiful diamond ring sits perfectly fitted on your fourth finger, slotted around your hand as if to declare to the world that you’re his and only his.

You once were his, you think to yourself as you slide the platinum onto your finger. It still fits perfectly, slotting around that odd spot where your ring had sat for 5 years, the permanent dent in your skin fading, but still present enough for the ring to nestle in exactly. You twirl it around your finger, relief flooding you at the old habit.

It’s so stupid, you think to yourself, so stupid how Yoongi made all those decisions by himself. It was absolutely, annoyingly, dumb how he decided by himself that accepting your divorce was the best thing he could do. You hated how he was always like that. Never taking a step in front of you, but always a step behind, letting you go first and letting you lead and never getting in your way. You hated it, yet it was the single thing that made you fall in love with him. He respected you and honored you and encouraged you like no other.

Suddenly, the ward door slides open, and Yoongi steps out, arm still in his sling and tired eyes blinking down at you.

He doesn’t look too surprised, but when he catches the glimmer of tears in your eye, he just silently crouches down, and with his good arm, pulls you in for a hug.

The dam breaks, and you begin sobbing, the regrets and overload of emotions and feelings and memories washing over you in a tsunami as you bury your face into his neck. He just silently holds you close, hand resting on your shaking shoulders as you blubber meaningless things into his skin.

“I--I’m so stupid,” you sob, eyes squeezing shut.

“So stupid, so dumb, everything is so stupid,” you cry, and Yoongi just hums as he continues holding you close. “I just can’t--”

“Can’t what?” he murmurs.

“I can’t just forget, and just leave everything behind. I can’t Yoongi,” you wail, and he just cooes and strokes your hair. “It’s just all so hard and I thought I was doing it for us, for you.”

“But I was so selfish and dumb and arrogant to think I could do it by myself, I’m so sorry,” you cry, hiccuping and blubbering other meaningless things.

But Yoongi just holds you tighter, sitting with you on the cold floor in just his hospital pajamas, letting you blubber all over his shoulder as he whispers back, “I don’t care. It’s okay,” He shushes you, blinking down at you gently, “It’s really okay. I know, I’m sorry too, shhh, it’s okay.”

You continue to cry, all the pent-up frustrations of the last couple of months pouring out in waves and out in front of Yoongi. All your regrets, all the memories, all the things you went through alone. All the insecurities, all the pain and fear. All of you. You cried and vented and apologized until everything inside of you was out.

You were naked and vulnerable, cards all on the table.

You were literally almost like his patient, open and really up to his call. You’d cut yourself open, spilled everything out in front of him, and now it was his turn.

He just holds you tight, never letting you detach from him.

His voice is as clear as the day he asked you to marry him.

“I love you.”

You blink up at him through bleary eyes, confusedly. You were expecting him to say it was okay, to say either that he did or didn’t accept your apologies, or to give you an explanation or something.

“I love you so much, Y/N.”

He says again, pulling you even closer and burying his nose in your hair.

“I would never, ever, try to hurt you on purpose.”

His hand strokes your arm, like the night he asked you to marry him. Everything smells and feels like Yoongi, here in his arms. It’s like home.

“And I’m the one who should be sorry. I hurt you, and I promised the day we got married that I would never hurt you. I love you so much, I love you Y/N. Everything’s okay. We can get through this, I’m sure of it. I love you so much,” he says, and the shakiness of his voice at the end tells you that maybe he too, is crying too.

But he won’t let you pull away to look at him, so you just curl your arms around his waist, holding as tight as you can, not letting go.

You were never gonna let go again.

“Chief Bang,” you announce, walking into his office with purpose. It’s actually your old office, he’d moved in as soon as you’d moved into his.

“God, Y/N,” he groans, a hand on his chest. “Please don’t scare an old man like that. Who knows what could’ve happened.”

“Oh, hush,” you grin, strolling in and taking the seat across from him, “I’ve seen your diagnostic, you’re in almost perfect condition.”

He rolls his eyes at you. “What brings you here?”

You drop the file on his desk. “What you asked for.”

He eyes you weirdly as he takes the manila folder, wrinkled all around the edges as he smooths it out and produces the stapled packet inside. As he flips the first cover page and sees the official lettering of the second, his eyes widen and he looks up at you with a start. “Your divorce papers?”

You nod, smiling.

His gaze softens, “Oh, Y/N...I’m so sorry. I...I really had hope for the both of you.”

You blink, “Wait what?”

He sighs, flipping through the rest and lying it down on his desk. “I know I asked you to reconsider, but I trust that you guys made the right decision.”

You frown, “Wait, Chief, you don’t understand.”

He continues, shaking his head. “Gosh, I’m so sorry to have you put you both in that position...I should have never brought up the gender discrimination for chief in the first place...It was all my fault I---”

He’s cut off by you leaning forward and taking the packet in your hands and ripping it cleanly across the middle. His eyes widen, “Y/N--”

“Chief,” you declare, smiling at him. “I took your advice. We’re not separating. Actually, we’re quitting.”

He balks at you, “Excuse me?”

“Okay that was actually a joke, that last part,” you giggle, and he sighs, collapsing into his chair. “But on a serious note, we’re not giving up. We...we talked about it and it was just a lot of miscommunication. We want to try again. But...but before you retire, we wanted to say that we can’t continue this lifestyle if we want to make any changes to our marriage. I decided last week when we talked that I want to take the transition slowly, and I want to do it with Yoongi.”

“Okay....” Chief Bang murmurs, watching you warily. “And?”

You straighten up. “We want equal surgeries. No more stupid meetings and events. I’ll hire someone who actually likes to do that.”

“Mhm...” He muses, eyes narrowing in concentration. “Keep going.”

“And--” “Chief Bang!” His office door swings open again, interrupting your list. The both of you turn to look at who it is, and his frazzled secretary apologizes profusely.

“I-I’m so sorry, Chief but Mr. Jang, he--”

“Shihyuck!” The elder man walks in proudly, cutting off the secretary and sauntering in. “What you up to ol’ man? Ah, Y/N!” He grins, sleazily walking up to you and clapping you on your shoulder. “What brings you here too?”

You grin fakely up at him, “Good morning Mr. Jang.”

Chief Bang crosses his arms. “What brings you here, Jang? Don’t you have a Board of Trustees to be running?”

The other man grins, perching on the desk rudely. “Actually, good thing you’re here, Y/N, because I’m here to tell Chief Bang something. We want to liquidate the free clinic. It’s just too much money, and think about how much money we would make if we charged per visit and--”

“No.” You state, firmly meeting his confused gaze with your steely one. Chief Bang’s head turns to you in surprise.

“E-excuse me?” Jang narrows his eyes at you. “What did you just say, missy?”

You stand, standing eye to eye with the man in your heels. Thank god the Chief job required you to have a few killer heels in your closet cause damn, you felt powerful.

“No,” You repeat, facing him. “We are not liquidating the free clinic. Some doctors have worked their blood sweat and tears off for that service, and we are not going to stand by and let you liquidate for your own greed.”

Jang sputters, “Wha- do you even hear yourself talking right now? As a woman--”

“As a woman,” you sneer, “you should know that I’m very close with Mrs. Jang, and I’ve been hearing some things about you and your aesthetician. Do you want me to invite her out to lunch tomorrow?”

He’s silenced immediately, mouth opening and closing like an idiot. You smirk, “I thought so.”

“Chief Bang, let me finish with the other requirements I was saying before Mr. Jang barged in and interrupted our conversation.” You state, sitting down and crossing your legs.

“One. I want Yoongi and I to share the Chief position. Two. No more stupid parties and meetings and meet and greets. I’ll hire someone to fill in. Three. I want you to move Jooyoung into a different surgery department. That girl keeps trying to flirt with my husband and I don’t like that.” You cross your arms.

Chief Bang finally speaks. “Is that all?”

You hum, mulling it over. “Yes.”

He nods, “Its fair.”

Jang sputters, “F-fair?! What are we going to do with two people as chief? That’s never even happened before!”

You turn, eyeing him down with a cold stare.

“Mr. Jang,” you ask, slowly facing him. “You’re the president of the Board of Trustees, correct?”

He nods, frowning. “Yes, why?” He retorts rudely.

You take a menacing step toward him as you speak. “Well, as the president of a hospital board of trustees, you must know that without the doctors, a hospital will absolutely disintegrate. Wouldn’t it?”

“A-are you threatening me?” He rages, eyes blazing.

You shrug, innocently looking at your nails as you step towards him. “Well, then you must also be aware that as the face of this hospital, you can’t get rid of me. That would be a total horrible public PR mess for you and hospital. I wonder,” you muse, “what the rest of your board of trustees would think if you tried to get rid of me, or if I said that I quit because you were being difficult.”

You laugh a bit, “Think about that! The face plastered all over the building and over TV and bus ads that you thought would bring you more revenue, quitting, and stating on television that the board of trustees she worked for were money-hungry hyenas, all lead by a certain president who couldn’t even keep his promise to his wife? Wow, I wonder what would happen.” You smile sweetly at him, twirling a piece of hair around your finger.

“Think about it a little!” You sing-song, as you pivot on your heel and move to walk out the door.

You stop halfway, eyes falling into the figure leaning on the doorframe, grinning gummily at you. Smile widening, you walk up to him, arms sliding around his waist.

“Hi,” you blush, and he grins down at you.

“You’re so sexy when you take lead like that,” he murmurs, lips leaning towards yours, and you let him kiss you a tiny bit before you break away and give a last meaningful glance towards the red-faced Mr. Jang and the satisfied Chief, and give a tiny bow to the elders before exiting with your husband.

As soon as the door shuts behind you, you slump a little, caving into his embrace.

“God,” you breathe out, “I thought I was going to die of fear. I seriously hate everyone from the board. They scare the shit out of me.”

Yoongi chuckles, “I’m pretty sure you just scared the shit of him. So you’re good.”

You smile, “Really?”

“Yeah.” He grins down at you, tucking you under his arm.

“How are you feeling,” you murmur as the both of you quietly make it down towards your office.

He shrugs his arm a bit to show you. “Feelin’ good as new. I can go home by tonight.”

You hug his waist a bit closer. “Good,” you murmur into his shirt. “It’s uncomfortable sleeping on your hospital bed. I wanna go home.”

“Me too babe,” he whispers, hand stroking your cheek and resting on your shoulder. When his arm grazes your neck your cheeks heat up in a hot blush, and you blink up at him through your eyelashes.

He recognizes the look right away. Glancing around, he chastises you, but with a shit-eaitng grin. “Y/N,” he hisses, “We can’t.”

You pout, “Why not? No one even comes into your hospital room anymore anyway. Plus, I have a new office!”

“Did you forget that’s now gonna be our office?” He hisses, eyes rolling.

You huff, “C’mon! Just once, I don’t understand why you won’t just fuck me! We’re not even getting a divorce anymore anyway!”

“Shhh!” He hushes you, pushing you into the office, and locking the door behind him. “Jeez, just yell it out for the entire hospital to hear, huh?”

He takes off his coat and settles into your couch. “Why not? Dont you want me?” You whine, stomping your feet petulantly.

He sighs, eyeing you levelly. “Trust me,” he says lowly, “I haven’t fucked you since 6 months ago, and I’m all pent up and annoyed and pissed and I’d give anything to be buried all the way deep inside you but I have my priorities and my first priority is not having our first time together be in an office. I’m going to take my time.”

You roll your eyes, perching on your desk. “You said it yourself, you’re all pent up and frustrated. Why does it even matter? You’re not gonna last long anyway.”

His eyes narrow at you, mouth twirking up in a grin. “Is that a challenge?”

You jut your chin out at him. “Wanna bet? Whoever cums first loses.”

He rolls his eyes. “I see what you’re doing. Whether or not whoever loses, you win anyway becuase you eventually get sex.”

You grin, “Exactly. So are you down or not?”

He stands up, hastily shrugging on his jacket.

“Call Gina right now,” he commands, eyes darkening at you. “I need to be discharged now.”

Love.

Neuroscience and Biology like to tell us that it’s a side-effect of a release of a hormone called Dopamine and oxytocin, the same two hormones released when the guy living under the bridge snorts up another line of coke, and when the horribly suffering and screaming woman holds the human she just pushed out of her vagina for the first time in her arms.

And at first, you’d thought it was just that too. You never really believed in the powerful nature of love, just that it was a warm fuzzy feeling and something that made you happy.

But now, you’d learned through the hard way that love, it made you do crazy things. It made you lay down your rights, lay down your priorities, and put the other first. It meant forgetting about all the hardships because the good times weighed them out. It meant working together.

Sure, to be fair, after you and Yoongi had resolved your issues and decided to cancel the divorce, you still had to try. Love didn’t come that easily. If it was easy, then it wouldn’t be true love.

You and Yoongi had to attend marriage counseling sessions, make an effort to start going on dates again, and had to have long talks in car rides home to resolve and sort out all the miscommunications. You had to give up some of your responsibilities as Chief so that it would be easier to focus on being Yoongi’s wife, and also designate some work for him. Yoongi had to give up a few surgeries so he’d have time to spend with you after work and dedicate some to share the responsibilities of chief. The both of you had to make a sacrifice.

But it was worth it. True love, without sacrifice, you learned, meant nothing.

Doctors are also professional line-drawers.

Not the plastic surgeon, sharpie-a-line-over-your-boob kind of line, but a physical, emotional, spiritual, and mental line. And then, there’s the line you draw with those who you love. Whether or not they’re sitting on your table, brain flap open for you to probe, you must draw lines. You can’t operate on someone who’s close or related to you. You can’t offer to waive fees for someone who you once respected back in high school. You can’t be in relationships with your patients, friendly or sexual.

And you definitely shouldn’t be married to your partner, and co-leader of your department, and fellow co-Chief.

But before you were a doctor, before you were a chief, and before being anyone else, you were you. Yoongi’s wife.

And you were going to prioritize it. You were going to prioritize you, your time, your mental and physical health, and your emotional health, which meant prioritizing your relationship with Yoongi. He was your everything.

So you realize, that sometimes breaking the rules is allowed. Sometimes, cutting yourself open and spilling out your emotions and true feelings as a doctor is okay, when its to the one who you know and trust will still love you after seeing how ugly things can be. And sometimes, drawing lines around you and someone else, instead of between you and them, is okay.

Because you trusted that even though life cut you open, Yoongi was going to be there right along you, to help you stitch it all back up.

fin.

After finishing, please read my story talk here! Thank you for reading! :)

also, thank you for all the support. I’m pretty sure I’m going to write one more tiny epilogue so that this couple gets their closure!

#bts fics #bts smut #yoongi fics #yoongi smut #yoongi angst #bts angst #cut me open #surgeon!au #doctor!au #spinoff #fics #writing #yoongi

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ikke-secret · 6 years

Text

Make Me Relax (#2)

Pairing: Calum & Y/N

Warnings: Swearing and smut

Word count: 3050+

Requested: Yesss

Send requests here

-------------------------------Read part 1 here-------------------------------

I’ve been writing this over a couple of days, since someone is visiting me, and it’s hard to find time. I originally hadn’t planned on doing a part two, but I did, so here it is

“Y/N?” A muffled voice sounds.

My brows furrow together as I stretch out my exhausted limbs. Heavy, warm hands squeeze my hips, holding me tightly against a naked body. A complaining groan pushes out of Cal’s mouth, when the voice speaks again, knocking a little harder on the door this time.

“The brunch is in twenty minutes, and you better be there.” The voice warns, which instantly correlates with my newlywed sister Bianca.

I don’t reply and neither does she knock again. Though I can’t stay in bed with Cal all day – even though I’d very much like to – because Bianca would find some way to get in here if I don’t show up.

“Calum?” I speak, trying to wake him up.

I can only slightly see his eyes as they open only a fraction of an inch. “Yes?” he replies, his voice raw and hoarse.

My fingers absentmindedly begin drawing small patterns on his chest. Instead of saying what I know I should be saying I get lost in the way he looks.

His dark hair is messy and flopping onto his forehead, while his chocolate eyes twinkle at me. I move onto my elbows, so I can lean up and press my lips against his. Maybe it’s just to ensure myself that what happened last night wasn’t just some wonderful dream.

I simper against his lips when he returns my kiss, deepening it with his hand cupping my cheek.

He rolls over, hovering over my body, while his hands run freely along my side. I feel him against my leg, and I know – despite how much I’d rather not – that I’ll have to stop this. “Cal –” I begin, but I’m interrupted by a sudden sensation coursing through my body, as Cal’s rough finger strokes over the most sensitive part of me.

If he keeps this up I’ll be screwed – literally.

“We need to get ready.” I breather, as he circles my clit, making me whimper.

“For what?” he murmurs into my ear, without stopping his sweet torture. He slowly pushes a finger into me, keeping the slow pace. I let my legs fall open to him, mentally urging him to continue.

“Brunch.” I push out through clenched teeth.

He ignores me and nips at my shoulder, adding another finger to my heat.

“Cal.” I almost wail, causing him to grin – obviously knowing that he’s making me lose my better judgement.

Then I do the only thing, which I know will get his attention. My hand wraps around the length of him, causing his fingers to stop what they’re doing.

“We need to get ready, so I suggest a cold shower to you because no matter how bad I want to continue, we have to go.” I say dropping my voice to some demanding girl I didn’t even know existed.

Cal pouts at me as he removes his fingers and rolls off me.

I follow him and give him a soft peck on the lips, “Maybe another time.” I suggest, and wink at him, before getting out of the bed.

“You made it.” Bianca announces in a bubbly voice as we walk onto the open pavilion. I smile at her and take a seat across from my parents. The table in front of us is filled with all sorts of different foods, making my stomach rumble – especially the pancakes right in front of me.

“Calum, was it?” my mom questions and points a fork with a piece of sausage on it. Cal redirects his gaze from me to her and sprawls the most handsome smile in existence, “Yes it was.” My mother plops the sausage into her mouth. “Where’d you meet?” she asks. Cal’s eyes shortly catch mine, when he obviously sees the burning red color spreading into my cheeks.

‘Don’t you dare’ I think for myself, looking anywhere but at my mom.

“We had a class together in college.” He tells her, and I sigh in relief. My mom nods, and glances over at me with an odd look on her face – clearly not understanding what got me so embarrassed.

“Which class?” My dad interrupts, making my eyes shoot up to his – well, fuck.

Calum’s hand lands on my leg, making me jump. I still the bobbing motions in my leg, which I hadn’t even noticed. He gives me a reassuring look, as if to tell me that what he’s about to say won’t even matter. My eyes narrow at him, silently flipping him off – mentally, that is – as he doesn’t know my family.

“Sex ed.” He says, and I feel like face planting onto the table. I hadn’t planned on telling them about my sex ed classes, even though it was for scientific reasons only. Though all it had led to was a hell of a lot of sexual frustration, since that’s mostly where I’d see Cal, before we really became friends – not that it’s been any less frustrating afterward.

I catch my sister’s gaze, who’s looking at me with a smirk playing on her lips, like when she would tell on me when we were younger.

My parents both just nod synchronously, not seeming particularly faced.

Cal squeezes my knee, as if to tell me ‘I told you so’.

Deciding I’d rather draw the attention away from how I know Cal, I grab the tray with toasted bread, as it passes by.

Throughout the dinner, Cal doesn’t remove his hand from my leg, and once in a while it draws a little further up my leg. Each time I glance around at my family, making sure that no one notices my heated face nor Cal’s hand on my knee – or mid-thigh at this point. I probably should stop him, but I relish in the small jitters he gives me.

He keeps up a conversation with most of my family, seeming unfazed by the small jerks he receives from me. I might be fooling myself, but I’m pretty sure that if he keeps up doing what he’s doing, he’ll soon reach the territory, which isn’t child-friendly – nor family-friendly.

He makes one extremely bold move all of the sudden, grazing the edge of my underwear – wearing a skirt was definitely the worst and the best decision I made today.

“Y/N?” A voice breaks through to me, snapping me right back to reality.

My eyes refocus on my mom, who’s wearing an impatient look on her otherwise soft features. My brows knit together, “Yeah?” I answer, as Cal’s fingers peak under the hem of my panties, making it almost impossible for me to stay still.

I cross my legs in a pathetic attempt to remove his fingers, but instead I get them stuck between my thighs. I can already picture the smirk on his face, before I even glance over at him from the corner of my eye.

“Do you remember this place?” she asks me, for what might as well be the tenth time. My eyes skim over the pavilion and the wide garden, then over the white building with small mosaic windows, before shaking my head.

She looks halfway disappointed with me as Bianca breaks in and yell whispers to me, “Mom and dad got married here.”. My eyes widen, while my parents chuckle at my sudden realization, I do sort of remember this place, but it’s been at least twelve years or so.

“Maybe you want to go for a look around the park?” Bianca suggests, “Spark your memory.”

I don’t get the chance to speak, as Cal does so first, “I’d love it if you could show me around.” He tells me, and grins broadly, flashing his perfect teeth.

Bianca points at Cal and nods, seeming to love the idea.

“I told you that I barely remember the place.” I tell him, and discard the idea, too nervous – or scared – to be alone with him again.

“Then you probably need to see it even more.” Bianca urges me by pushes out my chair from under the table.

Cal’s warm hand slips away from my skin, instantly leaving me cold without it.

‘Go’ she mouths.

I push myself up from my chair, and reach for Cal’s wrist to pull him up with me, but he grabs my hand instead, and doesn’t let go – not that I mind.

We walk around the white building, Cal leading me more than I’m leading him.

The moment we turn the corner he presses me against the brick wall, with his lips coming down on mine instantly.

My mouth opens to him immediately, letting his tongue into my mouth. He entangles his fingers in my hair, while using the other one to curve my body into his, so I can feel every inch of him – including the bulge growing in his pants.

His teeth nip my bottom lip as he pulls a few inches away from my face, “I’ve needed that since you sent me to the shower.” He hums.

I suck my bottom lip into my mouth and smirk at him, when his hand moves up the side of my thigh, lifting my skirt, sending jolts of electricity through my body.

“Not sure you’re allowed to grope your tour guide.” I joke, and duck under his arms, swinging my hips a little more than necessary as I walk away.

He’s quickly by my side again, and ignores my earlier statement, as he interlaces our fingers.

I try to figure out where we’re going, but with Cal’s thumb drawing circles on my hand, I find myself quite distracted.

“How about in there?” Cal suggests and points over at a small building about fifty meters from the main building. He doesn’t wait for a reply as he tugs at my hand, already going in the direction.

“You don’t want to see the rest?” I ask, but let myself get dragged along.

He turns towards me and grabs my other hand, walking backwards. He shakes his head, while a small grin tugs at his lips.

Inside the small building is two bathrooms in the entrance, and a third door, which Cal opens. We slip inside another small room, which is decorated with a couch, an old TV and a bunch of videogames and board games along the wall. In the middle of the room, taking up a lot of space is a pool table.

I figure that it’s made for the children who get bored at weddings or other parties thrown here.

My eyes return to Cal, when I hear the sound of a lock being turned. His eyes are filled with a hunger that I’m feeling too, but I don’t make the first move.

Instead I patiently wait for him to close the short distance between us, as he meets my lips with a feather like touch. I return his kiss much harder than he started it, curling my hands into his soft hair and hold his lips to mine, while coaxing his mouth open.

“If you don’t want this, you need to tell me right now because if this takes one step further, I don’t think I’d be able to stop.” Cal mutters into my ear, before he kisses a path along my jawline. I shake my head, “Don’t stop.” I tell him breathlessly. I feel him grin against my skin before he closes his lips over mine again.

He works my lips roughly and I can barely keep up with the amazing sensations his body against mine is giving me.

His hands move up under my skirt, gripping my panties and pulling them down my legs - slowly.

“Hurry, I need you right now.” I state, stepping out of my underwear as quick as possible - my throat goes dry when he puts the lacy material in his pocket.

“I’m not going to hurry, baby.” he tells me, “I’m going to take my sweet time because you’re not just some other quickie.”

His burning tongue trails a path over my collarbone, making my breath hitch.

Unexpectedly he steps away from me, leaving me flustered. I look at him with confusion written all over my face, but I don’t speak. Instead I watch him as he closes all the curtains and switches on the lights.

He backs further away until he’s resting against the pool table, with his long legs stretched out in front of him. His eyes gradually travel down my body, causing goosebumps to spread on my skin.

A mischievous grin settles on his lips, as his coffee brown eyes meet mine once more, “Can I ask you to do something I’ve wanted to see for a long time?” He questions, the challenge thick in his question. I swallow the lump, which has formed in my throat, as I mechanically move my head up and down. “I’d like for you to take off your clothes while I watch.” He dares.

My lips curl into a smile as I nod enthusiastically.

I have definitely not done my fair share of stripteases, and maybe it would help a lot more if my body wasn’t so ridged around Cal. I pull my shirt over my head and shimmer out of my skirt, leaving me in my bra. I reach behind me and unlock it before letting that fall down too – maybe that didn’t count too much like a striptease, but from the look on Calum’s face, he looked more than pleased with my short show.

He pulls his shirt over his head, and motions for me to come closer, which I willingly do. His lips devour mine, while his hands glide all over my heated skin, careful not to come close to the places where I actually want him touching me.

I’m lifted off the ground, as he sets me down on the pool table and steps in between my naked thighs. With ease, I unbutton his pants and push them down his legs, alongside with his underwear.

“I need you now.” I admit, my voice raw, and not caring if he wants to take his sweet time because that isn’t going to happen.

He reaches down in the pocket of his jeans, pulling out a small golden wrapper, which I remember from the drawer of condoms. I grin at it, and take it from his hands, “Optimistic?” I comment, not the least bit annoyed that he expected this. “Maybe a little too optimistic.” He replies, “I brought a couple more.”

I can barely keep the smile off my face as he throws another two wrappers on the table. I don’t mind at all.

His big hands cup my cheeks as he pulls my face to his and slips his tongue inside my mouth, flicking it over the roof of my mouth. I take one of the wrappers and smooth it down over his erection, feeling the small spasms in his body when I do so.

My legs wrap around his hips as he moves me down until I’m lying flat on my back against the table. His lips suck a path down my throat and down my body, while using his hands to massage my breasts. My legs tighten around him, urging him to enter me.

His dark eyes lift to mine, as he grazes an eyebrow at me, “Please Cal.” I whine and dig my heels into him, and moan when I feel him against my entrance.

He smirks at me and runs the tip of his head through my folds, causing me to whimper out in disapproval - I need him inside of me.

“I guess if you say please, I bet...” He doesn’t get to finish his sentence, as I murmur another please and push him about halfway into me.

We both groan in unison as Cal’s strong arms land beside my body, shaking with what seems like self-restraint.

I need more.

I pull his head down so his lips are hovering over mine, as I whisper, “Please just fuck me.” My words are barely above a whisper, but he seems to get the memo and pushes in the rest of the way, stretching me out.

He doesn’t waste a single second before he pulls out of me, followed by slamming right back into me. My back arches off the table, while small incoherent words leave my mouth with every delicious thrust.

His lips ghost over the skin of my neck, sometimes granting me a small kiss when he hits a particularly nice spot deep inside me.

His hands are digging into my sides, tightening and molding into my skin every time he moves just slightly.

A tight ball begins building deep inside me, and it makes my body grow ridged.

Cal suddenly pulls all the way out of me, and I whimper, wanting him right back to where he was. He quickly flips me over so I’m no longer on my back, but I’m instead lying on my stomach, while my feet are touching the ground. “Spread your legs for me, baby.” He orders, and I instantly do as I’m told.

I’m pulled further towards him with his hands on my waist, as he enters me once more, deeper than before, making me cry out in pleasure.

He drives into me while small moans leave his lips.

The ball inside me is throbbing for release, as I feel Cal’s fingers on my clit, circling them around. I feel my body begin trembling, as I’m suddenly thrown into my orgasm. My body falls flat against the table, but Cal holds my lower half up as he keeps thrusting deep inside me.

Calum stills inside me as his orgasm crashes down on his. His hard, sweaty stomach lands flatly against my back.

He stays momentarily inside me kissing my shoulder blade softly.

Slowly my breathing returns to normal, and when I turn around, Cal has only pulled on his black boxers.

I grin at him like a fool, enjoying as he takes in my still naked body. I begin pulling on my clothes, catching his eyes as he watches me get dressed.

He hands me my underwear as I pass by him. I pull his face to mine and fold my hands behind his head. He returns my kiss, coaxing my lips open.

“Round two when we’re back in the room?” I question, and feel his lips curl into a grin against mine.

Thank you for reading, it means a lot :))

Masterlist

I was thinking about doing like a final part 3, with something “unpredictable”, which is really predictable - so tell me if you want that.

- Calla

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