#bryce x harper

[mydemonsdrivealimo]

CHAPTER 1

Fandom: Open Heart

Rating: Teen

Warnings: none apply to this chapter

Relationships: Bryce Lahela x M!MC (Jensen Valentine)

Word Count: 2426

Characters: Jensen Valentine (MC), Jackie Varma, Bryce Lahela, Sienna Trinh, Elijah Greene, Ethan Ramsey, Naveen Banerji, Harper Emery (Full Open Heart Cast) 

Summary: Follow Jensen on his first pirating voyage aboard Eden's Fury, one of the most feared and highly-regarded pirate ships on the seas.

A/N: ik ik its The pirate au !! im so excited to finally have this posted. let me tell you, ive had to do a lot more thinking now that im posting this, but i just have to hope that its worth it. i never really planned for this to leave the dark cavern that is my wips folder, but here it is, in the light of day! how exciting :’) anyway please give this as much love as you have, it means more to me than words can describe, and the amount of time ive put into this by now is honestly ungodly (also woo my first fic header!!)

The bright morning sun shot glittering rays over the water. He waited on the dock with a few others, fiddling with the sword on his hip and revolver on his thigh. The summer heat filled the air and the shade from the overhanging trees did little to relieve it.

In the distance anchored the very boat he’d soon be boarding. The crew of Eden’s Fury had been in town for a number of days now, interviewing and rounding up a few new members as they often did every few years. For a pirate crew, they were surprisingly meticulous and organized, which was one of Jensen’s primary interests in joining.

The dinghy had circled back for its final time, collecting only the group of newcomers out of this port. They had stopped along two other coasts before this one and taken a number of interested parties aboard. Jensen didn’t have the chance to interact with any of them before this, most of them drunk beyond their wits anyway. The group was relatively separated throughout the city, too, impatiently waiting for their quartermaster and first mate to make it through the interview process, which was less pleasant than he originally presumed. 

Their aforementioned quartermaster, Mr. Ramsey, was more skeptical of his linguistic abilities than his skills on the water, little of which he had but thankfully had been overlooked in favor of making sure he could follow commands. He was honestly surprised he made the cut, after a little slip of his temper at the incessant interrogation. His education was practically overqualified for the position, and his English had been plenty understandable throughout the process, but for some goddamn reason Ramsey needed to make sure his mother tongue wouldn’t “hinder” his “direction-following” skills—

“Mr. Valentine,” called the Chief Officer, Ms. Emery, from where she stood at the end of the dock. Jensen’s gaze snapped upward, his frustration subsiding for the moment as he hurried to board along with a few others he crossed paths once or twice.

The ride there was near silent other than the lapping waves crashing against the side of the boat. He wasn’t as nervous as before, just waiting—wishing—to get aboard and gauge the environment. Their captain hadn’t shown face the entirety of their stop, probably off doing much more important things, but Jensen wanted to see it for himself.

Captain Naveen Banerji had a reputation beyond other captains, some myths and some truths, but none of which able to be proved unless you met the man yourself. His pirating was almost the opposite of most, stealthy and quiet until he had racked up some of the most impressive treasures across the seas. His crew was held to a higher standard, too. Not noble, by any means, but civil on deck, at least. 

He helped to tie and knot the dinghy on, wracking through the hundreds of lessons and books he had been through in the past year. He gave it a gentle nudge, secured tightly enough for his liking and seemingly the Chief Officer’s, too. He followed up another on the side netting, seamlessly sliding over the edge and onto the deck.

Instead of stares or even a look like he expected, no one spared him or the others a glance. Movement was in full swing, the expected yelling and shouts over the flapping of sails and thud of boots. 

Chief Emery wasted no time in directing them to their stations, hurriedly waving them off without a second to spare, her bandana trailing in the wind behind her as she ran up the helm. 

Jensen quickly found his bearings, taking post at a cluster of rigging lines and getting to work with the sails. He contributed little but enough to make it look like he was helping, mostly following the lead of others before the anchor was raised and they were ready for voyage. 

Commotion seemed to fizzle out in seconds, the plethora of crew members performing the routine clean-up while chatting amongst themselves. Jensen checked over his shoulder to see the helm, little movement between the few higher-ranks there. He was about to turn back when a considerable amount of shuffling caught his attention, Captain Banerji emerging next to the rail.

Ramsey appeared right behind him as they both started down the stairs, making a beeline straight for one of the other new recruits. Jensen opted to mind his business for the few moments they were there, making a few more stops before they started on their way to him. 

Jensen could see Ramsey’s arm make a less-than-subtle movement into Captain Banerji’s side, a look passed between them as they continued toward him. Clearly they had some discussion beforehand and Jensen wasn’t dense enough to think it was a flattering one.

“Mr. Valentine?” he asked, and Jensen nodded in confirmation. “What’s your specialty?”

Jensen wasn’t quite prepared for that, nor did he have a good answer. He was a pirate who had never left land, only knew the ins and outs from books and diagrams. The only reputation he had was from a man he couldn’t remember. 

There was one skill he had practice in—it was hardly the most important, but at least it was one at all. “Blades and combat.”

He seemed to consider that for a moment before giving him a curt sort of nod and continuing onto the rest of the newcomers. Jensen watched them leave before turning back to the heavy length of loose rope across the deck, winding it up in clean swirls before hanging it up on one of the protruding posts.

He took a quick turn to his left and, instead of continuing towards the stern, he shouldered right into another crew member. No habitual apology fell from his lips as they did hers, barely a look between them as he stepped away to move around her.

“Jackie,” she greeted, not a formality he expected but one he quickly recovered from and returned. 

“Jensen,” he offered with a nod. He looked down to see the rope she was working on, caught in a splinter on the mast. She watched him look at it, giving a small nod of her head. He grabbed it for her, tossing it her way then turning away again.

At least this time he missed the next crew member he almost plowed into, barely clipping his shoulder. Instead of a smooth recovery, though, the swords on their hips managed to tangle, both of them pulling the other back as they tried to press forward.

He was ready for a fight or argument but only heard a light laugh. Jensen looked up to him from the swords, gaze finding a smile of all things. 

“You know, if you wanted to introduce yourself, you could’ve just said it,” he offered with the hint of a smirk.

Jensen gave him an up-and-down, finding nothing special or rank-indicating. “I really didn’t,” he answered. As his gaze came back up, he could help but note the few strands of dark hair curling over his face and ears, the rest tied back in a short ponytail.

“Damn, I see how it is,” he said before raising his hand between them. “Bryce Lahela.”

“Jensen,” he replied with half a hand-shake, pulling back quickly and continuing away.

Jensen was quick to get to work after, cleaning up the deck and extra ropes, following Chief Emery’s instructions when she gave them out. He scanned the more experienced crowd and the relaxed way they went about their duties, most of them already settled in their roles. Jensen noted the lacking staff in gunners, along with a few others, Captain Banerji probably hoping to replace them with the new deckhands.

He questioned how plausible that would be as another new recruit shouldered right into the mast in attempts to avoid another group, instead nearly face-planting into the deck. The dagger stuck into his poorly-made holster easily fell out and skidded towards Jensen’s feet. Jensen watched him stumble for another second, picking up the dagger with a silent sigh and examining it on his way to hand it back. The blade was worn—couldn’t even cut through cotton, probably—and the handle was perfectly shiny, barely used.

“Thanks,” he said, plucking it from Jensen’s grasp and clunkily trying to re-sheath it.

“Mhm.”

“I’m Landry, by the way,” he offered as Jensen was about to turn around. Jensen didn’t hear it in his first few words, but his English accent was undeniably clear. “I was on my way to talk to Master Ramsey.”

The excitement in his tone was the last thing Jensen expected. Jensen had never been good at separating his thoughts and expression, automatic disgust falling over his face at the thought of being excited about Ramsey.

“And that’s a good thing?” he asked, a small smile starting over Landry’s face.

“Of course,” he answered easily, starting to walk and encouraging Jensen to follow as he continued. Not before a stall in his step, Jensen started next to him. “Haven’t you read his published journals?”

Oh, Jensen had seen them. He browsed a few in his searches for ship manuals and any other bits of information he could soak up. Ramsey’s journals were practically a memoir of someone with no fame, talking about his “pirate-conversion” and practically begging for his name on a wanted poster in every country. The writing was good, yes—great, even—but Jensen vividly remembered barely getting past the first page. “No,” he lied.

“Well, they’re amazing. It brings a whole new perspective to sailing and why he decided to turn to pirate life,” he said animatedly, “I’ve been reading since I was young.” He couldn’t be more than nineteen. “Anyway, I was hoping to talk to him about some of his experiences while activity is down.”

They reached the bottom of the helm, Jensen sending him on his way with a, “Have fun,” before he could invite him to tag along.

After a few more hours under the sun, Jensen had made his way below the main deck. His conversation with the master gunner—Bobby—went more pleasantly than he had expected, probably an hour-deep into the ins-and-outs of his position before Jensen excused himself.

The second he got above deck, boots clapping against the wood, a familiar, angry tone called his name from behind. Ramsey was annoyed about God knows what, headed right for him.

“Valentine, where have you been?” he asked, stopping a short distance away. Not expecting an answer, he continued, “Captain Banerji and Harper just gave an entire speech to your cohort with our next plans and you missed all of it.”

“Okay,” Jensen replied. 

It was the easiest response to gauge someone's temperament; he had plenty of practice with it. Either they’d take that as enough, more calm and collected, or blow up and lose their dignity in the process, usually people he tended to avoid. He didn’t expect Ramsey to be the latter.

“If I were you, I’d start caring a little more. Your lack of skills leave you easily replaceable–”

“Master Ramsey?” a cheery voice chimed from behind him, both of them glancing that way to meet the gaze of another new recruit, the cleanliness of her clothes clearly marking her rank. “Captain Banerji requested you at the helm.”

Ramsey gave him half a glance before scurrying off to Naveen’s side. Before he was gone, she happily introduced herself. “I’m Sienna, by the way.”

“Jensen,” he replied, her friendly demeanor more welcoming than he had seen from others. He continued with, “Thanks for interrupting.”

“No problem! I could see him chewing you out from a mile away. Hopefully he doesn’t catch on, though.” She smiled with a breathy sort of laugh, Jensen offering a tilt of his head so she’d catch him up. She leaned toward him in a conspiratorial whisper to which he practically had to crouch to get into earshot. “Banerji didn’t really ask for him, I just figured you needed it.”

Jensen’s expression mixed everywhere from confusion to surprise. “I wouldn’t take you for a liar,” he said with a hint of a grin.

“Ah, see? That’s where I get ‘em.” She smiled, and Jensen let a sighed chuckle fall through his lips, upturned at the corners. “But trust me, if you ever need a save from Ramsey, I’m there. He was…” she considered her words carefully, “less than pleasant, I suppose.”

Before either of them could say something else, Chief Emery called out as she descended the stairs of the helm. As the new group convened, she started them down to the lower deck.

Jensen’s eyes had to adjust from the bright, gleaming sunset to the dimly-lit berth deck, hammocks lazily swinging against the posts. After a few short sentences of an explanation, Harper let them pick amongst themselves where they’d be sleeping before sending them off for dinner.

Despite some of the silent-judgment at the quality of the meals, Jensen was happy just to have a consistent source of food; it wasn’t always something he had the pleasure of with his mother. 

He had lost Sienna in the galley but quickly spotted her across the mess hall, her hand shooting up in a wave to bring him over. She was sitting with a number of others he recognized, as well as a few that he didn’t. He took a seat next to her and listened to the conversation.

The group chatted contently with one another between introducing themselves (though clearly Sienna had made her way around). Elijah was across from him, Jackie on Sienna’s other side, And Landry at the other corner. For that moment, he was happy to sit in with them, enjoying the easy agreements and back and forth banter. His body was far too tired after the day to be of any use in a conversation, though he offered up his name when prompted.

After dinner, he was happy to collapse into slumber, as were a number of others. Only a night ago he was in a bed much less comfortable than this, attempting to wish a goodbye and goodnight to his mother, who was much too busy down the road at the nearby tavern.

Somewhere deep down, he wanted to miss her. Wanted to miss their makeshift little home, too. But this, here, was always going to be easier than that. She didn’t have to worry about what he was up to, didn’t have to rely on theft for half their resources. It was easier this way for her and, soon, it would be for him, too.

~~~

Tags (for my tag list and those of you who have been interested): @choicesficwriterscreations @cariantha @inlocusmads @jerzwriter​ @dr-colossal-pita​ @peonyblossom​ @kyra75

[openheartfanfics]

Newly Added Fics

July 15 - 21, 2023  

🎭 Angst  |  🦚 Angsty Fluff  |  🛸 AU  |  ☁ Fluff  |  ♥ NSFW  |  📚 Series  |  📷 Edit  |  📱 TextFic  |  Ⓜ Mature

BRYCE X F!MC

Can I Have this Dance? - @storyofmychoices ☁

Some dances last a few minutes, others a lifetime, but every so often, there's one that lasts forever.

ETHAN X F!MC

Moving On - @jerzwriter 🎭

When Ethan left for a WHO mission without saying a word to Casey, then returned with a "reset" in mind, he told her that he wanted her to move on. Now that she has, he's not taking it too well. [Broke up; With Someone Else]

My Best Friend's Wedding: Rumor Has It - @jamespotterthefirst ☁

A childhood friend realizes he's the love of her life. The problem is he's about to marry someone else.

Relaxation - @potionsprefect 📷

Being heavily pregnant means Victoria needs to be spoilt every now and then. [Domestic; Pregnancy]

Total Surrender - @liaromancewriter ♥

After following Cassie’s command to the letter, Ethan is determined to collect his reward. [Oral Happenings]

Trip North - @potionsprefect 🦚

Luke and Lily get to know Ethan Hudson. [Domestic; Family]

What Could Have Been - @liaromancewriter 📚🎭

[extended: wip] When Ethan breaks his promise, Cassie is forced to accept they’re not inevitable after all.

CH 2: Facing the Consequences.

When life gets in the way - @coffeeheartaddict2 ☁

Casey received some unexpected news that expedites some plans. [Domestic; Pregnancy]

Wonderstruck - @jamespotterthefirst 📚🛸

[mini: wip] As a hopeful med student, she sneaks into a masquerade-themed gala hoping to meet one of the greatest minds of her time. However, fate has different plans.

Part 1

ETHAN X M!MC

Taken Care Of - @peonyblossom ☁

When Ethan finds Sydney completely wasted at Donahue's, Ethan takes him home and takes care of him. [Donahue's; Drunk]

LOVE TRIANGLE

Anytime I Want - @cariantha 🦚

A rewrite of the final scenes from the movie Sweet Home Alabama. Rafael Aveiro x F!MC; Ethan Ramsey x F!MC

Mixed Signals - @alj4890 📚

[mini: wip] Dr. Tobias Carrick x F!MC. Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC. Dr. Bryce Lahela x F!MC. Set after the poison attack.

Prologue

Who are you? - @coffeeheartaddict2 ♥

Ethan reconnects with an old flame at an event for his book. Upon his return to Edenbrook he takes things further with Harper. Feat. Ethan Ramsey x Harper Emery, Ethan Ramsey F!OC Estelle Campion

PLATONIC/THE GANG

Coffee Time - @liaromancewriter 📱

Cassie and the gang plan a coffee heist.

TOBIAS X F!MC

I'll Have What She's Having - @jerzwriter 📚🛸

[mini: wip] Tobias & Casey are good friends and two doctors working at neighboring hospitals.

Part 1

Life's a Beach - @jerzwriter 📷

Tobias and Casey are on a beach vacation.

_

SUBMIT OPEN HEART FICS & WRITERS HERE

[koko-heads]

MY LOVELYYYYYYYYY

+ POLYAMORYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

[bryceslahela]

okay listen we just ship Bryce with Raf bc they're both hot okay

that’s fair! i don’t hate the ship it just doesn’t make a whole lotta sense to me bc they barely hang out 😭

[ugh-yoongi]

threw a punch in a bar | knj

(or, nothing good happens when a man you’d accidentally knocked out in a bar fight tells you to run.)

→ pairing: namjoon x f. reader → genre: zombie!au | crack, smut → rating: explicit. minors dni. → warnings: swearing, alcohol, a guy gets pushy in a bar, this results in a bar fight (mentioned broken bones, but nothing is described in explicit detail), vague american setting in order to drag the us healthcare system, side vmin, taehyung has klepto tendencies but he steals from wal-mart so it’s fine, really mid smut including: kissing, very slight dom!joon, grinding/thigh riding, implied oral (f. receiving), fingering, reader drops a bryce harper quote during sex, namjoon’s dick is big but we knew that, this is cancelled out by his horrible dirty talk, unprotected sex, vmin’s dumpling fight but make it settlers of catan. this is technically a zombie fic, but the circumstances are 99% in the background. there is nothing gory here, just sort of found family vibes centered around an apocalypse. also when i said the smut is mid i meant it. everyone has himbo tendencies except yoonjin. → wordcount: 11k → a/n: started this forever ago after doing one of those twt pause games on who i’d be stuck with in the zombie apocalypse. my result was vmin & namjoon, which birthed the idea of vmin spending the entire apocalypse subtly trying to convince you to sacrifice yourself for them. i was going to publish the draft of this on halloween but decided to finish it, went into a trance, and added 9k words, so please accept my late and humble offering. → thank yous: lauren, bee, and jess as always for all of their help: beta’ing, general feedback, constructive criticism, telling me when my shit doesn’t make sense. @effortandmore​ / @hot-soop​ / @the-boy-meets-evil​

Any bartender worth their salt knows you don’t mix tequila and brandy.

Jimin, apparently, is only worth enough salt to rim a margarita glass.

All because he’s chaos incarnate: an absolute hellion of a person who causes problems just because. The type of person who calls a drink something innocuous like Tipsy Meow because it sounds sweet and he knows it’ll get people to order it. Sometimes he even serves them in glasses with cats painted on them, which is really cute and endearing and gets people to order that drink in the cute cat glass despite the fact that that drink in the cute cat glass is tequila and brandy.

In any other bar, that drink would be called something appropriate and applicable, like a Knockout.

Because that’s what it does—starts bar fights.

Which Jimin knows, because he’s actually a very competent bartender, but he likes to cause problems on purpose, especially on Tuesday nights when there’s not much else going on.

“Why did you do that?” Yoongi asks, watching some poor, unsuspecting woman practically skip back to her table with two Tipsy Meows in hand.

Jimin just smiles and shrugs. “Because,” he answers, eyes twinkling with something underhanded, “that tall guy at the high-top? He’s been eyeing her all night. She wouldn’t go for it on a good day, but after one of those?” A low whistle under his breath.

Yoongi just stares. He’s known Jimin a long time, going on six years now, so he’s never truly surprised at how duplicitous he can be, but sometimes he pretends for appearance’s sake. “Evil.”

“Not evil,” Jimin retorts, eyes rolled, “just bored.”

Snorting, Yoongi whips the towel off his shoulder and starts wiping down the bar. “Then do a fucking crossword puzzle.”

Jimin waves him away. “I’m not good at them. I’m good at this.”

“Getting people to fight in our bar?” Yoongi clarifies. Jimin nods. They stare at each other for a minute before Yoongi shrugs and finds some menial task to busy himself with. “Whatever. You’re on clean-up duty, though. The last time you pulled this shit, I was sweeping up glass for three fuckin’ days.”

Because he’s chaos incarnate, Jimin’s response is a sarcastic salute, two fingers pressed to his forehead as Yoongi flips him off in return.

Something is wrong.

You’ve been to this bar countless times, have always ordered the same thing. Always made sure to stick to your limits, because college had been both an exercise in adulting and maintaining a functioning liver.

Maybe it’s because the mint-haired guy didn’t make your drinks this time. Truthfully, you’ve been wary of him for a while, convinced he’s been watering them down just to get you to buy more. Not that you’re complaining. In all the years you’ve been coming here, you’ve never made a fool of yourself.

Now, though?

Now you’re very rapidly approaching find the nearest trashcan ASAP territory. I’m going to regret this in the morning territory. This hasn’t happened since that frat party sophomore year territory.

Yeah, that party. You’d drank something god-awful that night, too. Got roped into a game of strip poker in a seedy basement and walked away with $2,000, three nickels, and a half-used KFC gift card, only down a sock. Some douchebag frat bro hadn’t liked that very much, accused you of cheating and gave you a real hard time about it. Long story short, you’d been fueled by too many of the suspicious drinks and knocked him out.

This feels a lot like that.

Because you’re drunk, yes, but there’s something else lurking beneath the surface. Something that’s itching for a fight. Something that’s been dormant for a long time.

(This is a startling realization, because you’re not a violent person, despite all evidence to the contrary. You’ve only ever thrown one punch in your life. It’s really not your fault that it wound up being the punch heard ‘round the world.)

Those who cannot remember the past are doomed to repeat it. Your sixth grade history teacher had that quote hung on the wall and you haven’t thought about it until now. Because there’s a guy approaching your table—probably six-foot, wearing an expensive watch and polished shoes—and he’s been eyeing your friend all night. Had made a few crude comments to his buddies that you’d regretfully overheard, and you’re all out of sorts because the mint-haired bartender hadn’t made your drinks, so he’s nearly got his elbows on the table when you say—

“Fuck off, asshole.”

Both your friend and the guy look equally shocked. “Excuse me?” he says, looking back to the idiots at his table in disbelief.

You roll your eyes, blood beginning to boil. “I said fuck off. She’s not interested.”

“And she can’t speak for herself?” he retorts, all faux-chivalry now that everyone’s attention is on him, even though the bar is practically deserted at nine o’clock on a Tuesday. “Your friend’s a little uptight, huh?” he says, shifting his attention fully away from you.

God, you always do this—befriend the most wholesome people in the room. The ones who always assume the best in others; the ones who can’t say no; the ones who feel guilty speaking up. This friend is no different. Looks at you like a deer about to get rearranged by a car, all wide, panicked eyes and a tight-lipped smile, only polite out of obligation.

What happens next is shocking to everyone except Jimin and Yoongi. Safe behind the bar, the two of them watch as you tell the man to fuck off one more time. He refuses, his attention still laser-focused on your friend, reaching for her. Someone appears to his left—another stranger, this one taller and wider in all the right places and exuding far less scumbag energy—and places a large hand on his shoulder. Leans down to say something to him that you don’t catch. Whatever it is, you’re assuming it’s said in that brand of tense politeness men use with other men before they threaten to knock them out.

Regardless of what’s said, the original douchebag just snorts derisively, jutting his shoulder backwards to get the stranger’s hand off of him. This really bothers you, for all the obvious reasons. Why can’t this idiot take no for an answer? What’s his fucking deal?

Apparently you voice the latter out loud, and the bastard is laughing again, lips turned upwards in an ugly little sneer. Far too quickly, you go from bothered but mostly in control to seeing red and cocking back. All because the mint-haired bartender hadn’t mixed your drinks. Now you’re punching some pushy asshole in the jaw and are probably going to get arrested.

“Oh shit,” you hear, but it sounds like you’re underwater. It’s certainly not a voice you recognize, but you only know one person in this bar and you just punched someone to make sure she didn’t get harassed by some asshole who couldn’t take a fucking hint.

Pain erupts in your hand. There’s probably something broken, maybe multiple somethings, but you don’t have much time to dwell on it before someone’s grabbing you by the elbow and dragging you out of the bar.

A shame, you think; you’d really like to see how much of a pissbaby that guy turns into when he catches sight of his own blood.

“I hope you’re proud of yourself.”

You groan. Whatever room you’re in is far too bright and far too loud, which means you’re probably at home already being lectured by Hoseok. You crack an eye open, and—yep, that’s Hoseok, usual human embodiment of sunshine who is now staring at you like a grumpy little rain cloud. “What’re you talking about?” you grumble, fingers flying to your temples to ease some of the throbbing pain.

Hoseok must be pretty pissed, because he just watches you clutch at your aching head and doesn’t say a word. Usually you can guilt trip him into making you coffee and buttered toast. Grabbing you some pain killers, at the very least, but he’s not budging. You swallow hard.

“Do you remember anything from last night?”

“Not really,” you answer. You’ve been awake for approximately three seconds and your two brain cells haven’t connected to form a rational thought yet, let alone conjure up whatever shenanigans you got into the night before. “I think I went out for drinks with the new hire from work, but that’s it.”

“Mehmehmeh but that’s it,” Hoseok mimics under his breath, voice pitched far too high to ever pass as yours, looking more and more incensed by the second. Everyone told you he’d be too neurotic to live with. You should’ve listened. “Do you remember drinking too much and punching a guy?”

Ah, that would explain why your hand is fifty shades of purple, you think. “Ah, that would explain why my hand is fifty shades of purple,” you say.

Hoseok looks like he’s ready to explode. “Can you fucking take this seriously,” he seethes. “You’re too old to be getting wasted and starting bar fights! What in the actual fuck is wrong with you? You broke a man’s nose, you fucking maniac! What if he calls the cops? God, what if he sues you? Do you have lawsuit money? Because I sure as fuck don’t, not that I would bail you out of jail for this, anyway, because you don’t deserve it—”

“I broke someone’s nose?” Far too late, you realize you should’ve kept that proud wonder out of your voice.

Hoseok’s up and screeching before you can plug your ears. “You are un-fucking-believable! I have to leave. I can’t sit here another second and listen to this.” He’s fussing over his clothes and hair as soon as he’s on his feet, distress seeping out of every pore. “There’s fresh coffee in the pot and I made sure to save you two slices of bread,” he grits out, as if it’s causing him immense pain to be nice to you right now, before adding, “and there’s also aspirin and water on your nightstand. I would not recommend taking it on an empty stomach.”

And then he’s gone.

You microwave the mug of coffee and choke down the toast that’s grown suspiciously hard. You swallow two aspirin with coffee even though you know better and should be drinking the water, but the water has been sitting out for god knows how long and probably has dust particles and other gross things in it. You take a long shower to wash away the bar grime and hangover remnants and nearly crumble to the floor in pain when you try to wash your hair.

Right, your hand.

It’d been easy enough to ignore when you were focusing on not vomiting and taking your painkillers, but not so much anymore. Even if Hoseok hadn’t told you you’d punched someone, you could’ve pieced that much together—the bruising is severe and the swelling even more so. Trying to bend your fingers feels like a fate worse than death, so you salvage your shower as best you can before getting dressed one-handed and ordering an Uber to the nearest urgent care.

Which, much to your horror, is packed.

Every seat is taken except for one next to a man with a baseball cap pulled low and a thawed-out ice pack in his hand. He doesn’t acknowledge you when you sit next to him, and you’re almost offended until you spot the AirPods in his ears. God, he must’ve been here forever if he’s brave enough to plug his ears in a place that unashamedly sends you to the back of the line if you don’t answer when your name is called.

You need to know what you’re getting into, so you tap him on the shoulder and ask, “Hey, how long have you been here?”

The man seems flustered. He reaches for his phone and sends it plummeting to the floor, and when he retrieves it you notice the screen is cracked to hell so this must be a common occurrence. “Oh, uh. I’m not sure,” he says, voice all nasally like he’s got a bad cold. “Maybe two hours or so?”

You groan. “Two hours? Are you for real?” He just nods, still not meeting your eye. You pull out your phone, too, then, and put in the web address for the hospital. “D’you think the wait times are less shitty at the ER?”

“Maybe.”

“You didn’t look? No offense, but you sound pretty awful. I figured you’d want to get whatever it is taken care of sooner rather than later.”

The man snorts. Sounds painful. “Yeah, well. I work at a shitty nonprofit and the only insurance tier I could afford had a two-thousand-dollar deductible, so I’ll take my chances here.”

You hum in sympathy. “Do you believe in karma and reincarnation and all that? Because I do, and I think I must’ve been pretty fucking terrible in a past life to be born in a country without free healthcare in this lifetime.” The man beside you grunts in agreement. “Like, shit. What if I was Norwegian in a past life? Or, like, Canadian?”

“Only worth being Canadian if you’re not Indigenous.”

“Hm, yeah, that’s true. What human rights violations have the Norwegians committed?”

“No clue.”

“I’m gonna Google it,” you decide. Then, a second later, “Not great being Indigenous in Norway, either.”

“Is everyone shitty?” the man asks, pressing the warm ice pack back to his face. You wince on his behalf.

“Yeah.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you watch him pause his music. An album cover you don’t recognize, because this guy definitely strikes you as the underground type: paid Spotify account with immaculate playlists full of artists no one else has heard of, either. Probably imports half of his own shit, too, so his playlists only work on his own phone and everyone yells at him when they try to play his playlists and get nothing but silence.

“What about you?” he asks, and it’s a question that should sound greasy but just sounds really sad with his clogged nose. “Are you shitty?”

“Yep,” you answer instantly, holding up your hand. You’d managed to wrangle an elastic bandage around it, but the bruising is obvious and not easily hidden.

The man whistles. “Damn, how’d you do that?”

“Punched a guy in a bar fight, apparently.”

In hindsight, it should be obvious, the cruel joke the universe is playing on you: you, with your mottled, probably-broken hand; the man next to you, with a black eye and an ice pack pressed to his nose. Right church, wrong pew, your mother always used to say about you, and you’d taken it then as a nod to your creativity and ingenuity, but now you’re thinking you might just be fucking stupid.

Because the atmosphere immediately shifts. The man goes stiff, pauses, tenses his shoulders. Then he asks, “Yeah? What bar? I might’ve heard about it.”

And you might be fucking stupid but you’re not dumb, so you just shrug. “Oh, I don’t know,” you reply, doing your best impression of a person with nothing between their ears. “My coworker dragged me out, and I like her fine, y’know, but if I’m being honest, I don’t know how long she’s gonna last. I think she’s too nice. Well, I thought she was too nice, but then she invited me out for drinks and invited me to this crazy bar with horrible, violent people—”

“And you punched someone,” the man finishes for you, cutting short your tirade.

“Supposedly punched someone,” you correct. “I have no recollection of it, but that’s what my roommate said. He was shrieking and used his Serious Mom Voice so I’m inclined to believe him, though.” You try to wiggle your fingers and have to suppress a scream. “Plus I can’t move my hand, so there’s that.”

This is the part where you get yelled at. You can feel it. The man beside you is about to blow up, demand your name and phone number so he can report you for assault, probably also demand some money because he’d just talked about his god-awful insurance and you’re the entire reason he’s here, but the universe may be cruel but it’s also fair, because—

“Nam…joon?” a bored medical assistant calls out. The man startles, curses under his breath that no one even attempts to pronounce his name correctly, drops his phone again, and if you weren’t glued to your chair in fear you might’ve picked it up for him.

Namjoon stands—he’s fucking massive, and if this is the guy you actually punched, you’ll spare a second later to marvel at yourself—and looks down at you. Sends you the meanest, most murderous glare he can muster, clenched jaw and all, and then he’s disappearing behind a door.

You… feel bad.

It’s not like you’d meant to punch him. You hadn’t wanted to punch anyone! And that has to count for something, so when he comes back out you’ll plead your case and offer to buy him a late lunch, because if he’d been waiting hours you’ll be waiting longer, and maybe he’ll find you just endearing enough to forget that you’d broken his nose and the two of you will become friends. You’ll do the Best Person speech at his wedding and laugh about the time you’d punched him, or maybe you’d be marrying him and—

Pump the brakes.

You love a good enemies-to-lovers, but maybe not so much in real life.

  The wait is torturous.

An hour ticks by. You text Hoseok, tell him about the man you’d met and ask if he thinks it’s The Guy, and Hoseok writes back with a very pointed, I fucking hope it is. You’re not sure what that means. Does he hope Namjoon is the guy so you can apologize? So you can make sure he’s okay? Surely he wouldn’t be hoping for Namjoon to even the score and break your nose, too, but he was really mad this morning so you wouldn’t put it past him.

Another half hour. If you’d been paying attention, you would’ve realized how eerily quiet the waiting room has grown. No idle chatter, no coughing, no pained groans. People seem to be going in but not coming out, and you’ve been paying attention to that much, at least, so you can catch Namjoon.

And then the door slams open.

Namjoon stands there, nose stuffed with a cartoonish amount of gauze and a large splint across the bridge. He’s breathing hard. Looks like he’d just ran a marathon, which doesn’t make sense because how large can the backend of an urgent care really be, but then his eyes found you and—

“Run,” is all he says.

Nothing good happens when a man you’d accidentally knocked out in a bar fight tells you to run. Fucking stupid but not dumb, though, so you’re up and out of your seat before he can repeat himself.

Although you’re not sure where you’re supposed to go. You’d taken an Uber, and you can’t really order an emergency one of those. Besides, all Namjoon had said was run but not why, so you’re also not sure if it even is an emergency.

So here you are, standing in the middle of the parking lot like a bozo while Namjoon fumbles with the keys to a pickup truck. “Hey!” you call out, stomping towards him. “Are you gonna tell me what the fuck’s going on?”

Namjoon looks up only long enough to catch your eye. “You need to get out of here,” is all he says. Which is supremely and deservedly unhelpful.

“Why? I ca—I took an Uber here, I don’t have a car. I don’t know where I’m supposed to go or why I had to run out of there or if this is DEFCON 5 or DEFCON 1—”

“One,” Namjoon answers. “It’s definitely DEFCON 1.” Door unlocked, Namjoon meets your gaze again, deadly serious. “I’m not fucking around. You need to get out of here. Right now.”

This has to be a joke. He’s mad you’d broken his nose and now he’s getting his revenge. Still, you’re not all that keen to pay hundreds of dollars in medical bills for them to tell you something you already know, so you’ll play along. “Fine. Can I get a ride, then?”

“No.”

“So it’s an emergency but you won’t give me a ride.”

Namjoon glares at you. “You broke my fucking nose!”

“But I also broke my own hand, so we’re even.” It’s absolutely not a fair trade, but Namjoon seems to chew it over nonetheless. “Hey, c’mon, you wouldn’t leave me here! You’d feel too guilty.”

“How would you know?”

“Because you work at a nonprofit and care about human rights violations, and I am a human with rights, and it’d definitely be a violation to leave me here in a DEFCON 1-level emergency when I don’t even know what’s going on—”

Namjoon slaps a hand over your mouth. A large hand. A very, very large hand that easily covers half of your face. You’ll blame your pathetic whimper on fear. “I saw some shit in there, okay?”

“What kind of shit, though. Urgent cares are weird. Ominous little vortexes where reality is altered. You ever been in one at night? Like 28 Days Later vibes—”

“Yes!” Namjoon snaps his fingers. “Yes, that! Exactly like that!”

Your relief is palpable. You sag a little. “Oh! So it was just weird in there? What, did you get a creepy doctor or something?”

“No.” He groans. Runs his hands down his face. “Not the vibes part, the—”

“The zombie part?” you whisper.

Just then, the entrance slams open, people pouring into the parking lot. Most are screaming, which prompts you to scream in response, so Namjoon screams too and drops his keys. You’re picking them up before you can think twice, pulling the door open and pushing him inside of the truck. There’s something to be said about the way you manhandle him, how ripped his back feels through the thin fabric of his t-shirt and the view of his ass as he climbs over the center and into the passenger seat, but whatever weird shit is going on takes precedence.

You climb in behind him. Shut the door and lock it, and then you’re rolling down the window to adjust the side mirrors while Namjoon just shoots you an exasperated look. “We don’t have time for this!”

“Do you want us to crash and die? I’ve seen movies like this, okay, and someone always dies some stupid, avoidable death because they forget something obvious.”

“Yeah, it’s usually don’t read the weird Latin incantation in that book or don’t go outside to investigate weird noises, not checking your mirrors!” He pauses. “Hey, wait! They’re not even your mirrors! You’re fucking up all my shit!”

You roll your eyes. “Shut up. I’m getting us out of here.”

During Namjoon’s stunned silence, you turn the ignition and peel out of the parking lot as best you can with one good hand, tailspinning onto the main road, tires squealing. “That was… kind of hot.”

“What, me telling you to shut up or my driving?”

“...Both?”

“I—yeah, that’s fair. You’re big, but you seem like the type to enjoy getting pushed around.” Namjoon stays quiet, and when you dare a glance over at him, his cheeks are red. “Did you get a boner when I punched you?”

That actually gets a laugh out of him. “Don’t go there.” You shrug.

The two of you drive for a while. There’s nothing in the rearview mirror. No one behind you. Really, the world around you seems normal, quiet, still. It almost has you second-guessing everything you’d seen, all the things Namjoon had said. And you don’t know him beyond breaking his nose, but everything in you is screaming to trust him.

So you do.

“Hey, do you mind if we swing by my place? It’s, like, two minutes away, and I should probably grab some stuff.”

Namjoon just shrugs.

Surprisingly, there’s very little time to panic. Namjoon sets about grabbing whatever he can from the kitchen and the bathroom while you shove clothes into a large duffel. You grab your laptop and chargers and Namjoon’s scoff is loud when you ask if you should bring your vibrator, too, but he doesn’t say no, so into the bag it goes.

Hoseok comes home in the midst of your ransacking. You meet him in the living room and, aside from the small look of confusion, he seems much happier to see you than he’d been this morning. “Hi,” he says. Sounds normal, too. Doesn’t sound like he’d seen some weird apocalypse shit outside. “Where is there a tall man in our kitchen shoving all our food into bags?”

“Ah, right, that.” You suck in a breath. “Hobi, go pack up whatever you care about and meet us back here in five minutes. There’s some Train to Busan shit going on and we’ve gotta get moving.”

“Yo, what the fuck!” Namjoon yells from the kitchen. “Are you just saying that because I’m Korean?”

Hoseok had looked dubious before, but seems to fall into blind trust upon hearing the strange, tall man in his kitchen is also Korean. “Hey, me too!” When Namjoon comes skittering into the living room, they shoot matching finger guns at one another and do a weird bro-dap. “Oh!” Hoseok says, recognition blooming. “Are you the guy? The nose guy?”

Namjoon just glares at you.

“That’s him,” you answer instead. “Go pack, please. I’m serious.”

Hoseok is scared of everything: spiders, his shadow, carousel animals, your neighbor’s dog because it’s fifteen years old and blind and lost half its fur. He once had nightmares for a week after you’d made him watch the first Goosebumps movie and insisted on sleeping in your room. Had nightmares again after he saw a particularly sinister Squishmallow at Wal-Mart. So, yeah. It’s imperative you convince him to come with you because he stands no chance on his own.

You don’t expect him to shrug and go off to pack.

“Hey, did one of you grab any ibuprofen?”

“Yeah, got it,” Namjoon replies.

“What about allergy medicine? I get really bad sinus headaches so I’ll be miserable without it, but if it’s too much I guess I could—”

“Pack it,” you shout back.

There’s a loud crash from his room. Another smaller one seconds later. “I’m fine!” he calls out. “Hey, cool! I found a bag of Twizzlers!”

“Hoseok—”

“Bring the Twizzlers, please!” Namjoon says, cheeks warming again. “What? I like them.”

It’s your turn to glare. “If I get eaten over some goddamn Twizzlers.”

“At least you’d be strawberry flavored?” Namjoon offers, as unhelpful as ever. Then, before you can respond, “Hey, man, are you almost ready? I texted my roommate and he’s good to go but I still need to pack up all my shit, too.”

“One sec!”

Approximately fifteen seconds later, Hoseok reappears in your living room with a bookbag, a duffel bag, and an oversized rolling suitcase.

“This isn’t a vacation, Hobi,” you deadpan.

He looks at you like you’re a moron. Fucking stupid but not dumb, you remind yourself. “Okay, but I’m not leaving all my nice clothes here to get eaten by zombie moths or whatever. There’s Off-White in here.”

Namjoon nods in understanding. “Valid.”

It’s not worth the argument. The three of you pile back into Namjoon’s truck, you stuck in the middle of the bench seat this time while Namjoon drives. Hoseok babbles the entire way, seemingly unfazed by this bizarre situation in which you’ve found yourselves. He tells you about the cafe he’d met a friend at, the latte he ordered and didn’t like. You can only tell he’s starting to get nervous because he devolves into more and more unhinged chatter. One second he’s telling you about a dog he saw wearing a little sweater and the next he’s rattling off the digits to his social security number.

“Forget you heard that,” you say to Namjoon.

He looks pained as he replies, “Unfortunately I have a god-tier echoic memory so I am physically incapable of doing that.” He feels your stare. “I’m really sorry, I can’t help it! Tell me something else so I forget it!”

“Okay: I think you’re about to run over that guy.”

Namjoon jerks his eyes back to the road and gasps, hitting the brakes so hard Hobi nearly goes flying into the dashboard. He’s moaning, bitching about his seatbelt probably breaking a few ribs, and the tiny man standing in the road in front of you hasn’t budged an inch. Stared death right in the eye and dared it to take him.

“Fucking Jimin,” Namjoon curses. At both your and Hoseok’s blank stares, he clarifies, “My roommate.”

“Is that seriously your roommate?” Hoseok asks, still pressing against his ribs to check for fractures.

Namjoon, huffing and puffing and finally at a complete stop, just nods. “Yeah.”

Hoseok is finally silent. Then, “That tiny, terrifying little man is your roommate and you managed to get knocked out in a bar fight? What, was he busy that night?”

There’s an obvious reply on the tip of Namjoon’s tongue, but before he can spit it out the tiny man is banging his fist against the window. “I’m gonna fucking kill you!” he screams. “Open the door so I can kill you! Did you not see me? I told you I’d be waiting by the mailbox! I even packed all your shit for you and this is how you repay me, by almost hitting me with your stupid truck? You’re fucking cra—wait, who are these people?”

Hoseok, obviously scared shitless, grimaces as he waves hesitantly. “Hi!” you say, though Namjoon’s roommate probably can’t hear you through the thick glass. “I’m the person who broke his nose!”

Then the roommate is smiling. “Oh, that was you? You look different than I remember.”

When you look to Namjoon for answers, you find him slumped against the steering wheel. “Jimin’s a bartender,” is the only explanation you get.

You look out the window again. Small, but no mint-colored hair. “Ah, I had my suspicions about him. …I think.”

Namjoon cranks down the window just enough to tell Jimin he’ll have to hop in the bed with all the luggage, and then the four of you are off again. There’s one more stop, to Jimin’s boyfriend’s place to pick up him and his roommate, and all you can do is hope one of them has a larger vehicle.

Just like before, this drive is suspiciously unremarkable. You’ve long since resigned yourself to believing Namjoon and what little he’d told you, but you can tell Hoseok’s skeptical. Along for the ride, of course, because there’s always the small chance you hadn’t been lying and then he would’ve been knee-deep in shit, but skeptical nonetheless.

“Can I just ask—are you sure about this?” He’s looking out the window. Looking at all the normal cars and houses and businesses. Nothing about the outside world screams looming zombie apocalypse at all. “It seems pretty quiet.”

Namjoon sighs. Grips the steering wheel a little tighter, knuckles flashing white, but he seems okay. Adrenaline, maybe. It’ll hit later. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

“You saw something?” Hoseok prods.

“I—” He nudges you. “Did you notice how most of the people in the waiting room just seemed to have bad colds? Sneezing, coughing, all that?” You nod. “I didn’t really think anything of it since it’s still flu season, but once I got called back, everything just felt… off.”

He sucks in a breath. Keeps driving. Keeps talking. The nurse who’d taken his vitals seemed exhausted. Cracked some joke about being glad Namjoon was there for a broken nose and not whatever respiratory thing was going around. Told him a doctor would be in shortly to patch him up, and when she left his room she hadn’t shut the door all the way. Left enough of a crack for Namjoon to see what was going on: frazzled nurses and doctors and techs huddled around, panicking. Namjoon thinks someone called for an ambulance.

True to her word, a doctor did come in to pack and splint his nose. Then, in the middle of jotting down the name and phone number of his pharmacy, a scream.

“An old man came in. I saw him when they took me back. He was just sitting on a bed because it was so crowded, wasn’t in a room. I guess at some point he passed out. Didn’t have a pulse. I think he was who they called the ambulance for, but while I was waiting for the doctor I kept hearing this weird moaning.”

Hoseok shudders. “Yeah, I know where this is going.”

“Right. So the doctor comes in, fixes me up, and next thing I know, someone’s screaming. Guess that old dude wasn’t as dead as they thought he was.”

“Could they have been wrong?” you ask tentatively. It’s so quiet outside, maybe everyone had just—

“No,” Namjoon says, and he does it with so much conviction you don’t argue further. Jimin bangs on the back windshield, holding his phone up to it so you can see.

It’s all over Twitter. Not even Facebook, where you’d expect a zombie apocalypse conspiracy to begin. No, there are posts all over Twitter and Instagram and even the local news station’s website. Hoseok looks a little green.

“Okay, so it’s definitely real and this is definitely happening,” you mutter. “Does anyone have a plan?”

There’s no plan.

Not even in a hyperbolic, we say we have no plan, but somehow we’ve conveniently got a small arsenal of weapons, kind of way. There’s simply no plan.

Jimin’s boyfriend is named Taehyung. They have a needlessly tearful reunion, and you wait in Taehyung’s tiny kitchen for twenty minutes while he packs. He’s roommates with the mint-haired bartender that you like. His name is Yoongi. He has all his stuff packed and waiting by the front door, and you like him so much more for it.

“Should I pack condoms?” Taehyung yells from his bedroom.

“Are you fucking ser—” Yoongi starts, then seems to come to a realization. “Yeah. Yes, you absolutely should.”

“‘Kay! Be out in a sec!”

Namjoon appears then, in the midst of shoving his battered phone in his pocket. He looks around the room, taking stock, and his eyebrows knit in confusion. Fuck, he’s so hot and you’re taking the express train to hell for thinking it. “Hey, has anyone seen Jimin?”

Jimin and Taehyung are gone. There are weird noises coming from the direction of Taehyung’s room. Yoongi looks positively haunted. “Sorry!” Jimin calls out. “Be out in a sec!”

“Tae said that exact thing five minutes ago!”

“Are you calling him a liar?” Jimin yells back. Sounds genuinely angry and genuinely prepared to defend Taehyung’s honor. You’ve never met a tinier, scarier person.

“I’m calling you both zombie food!”

Hoseok sidles up next to you. “Is it just me or is that other tiny man really hot?”

“His name’s Yoongi,” you tell him.

Hoseok just sighs, like he’s carrying all of the world’s burdens on his thin shoulders. “I’m learning a lot about myself.”

You watch him mentally tabulate through all the stages of grief while Namjoon and Yoongi think up a plan. Namjoon’s large but clumsy and mostly useless, and Yoongi is small and deadly. You can hold your own, they decide, so Yoongi adopts Hoseok and Namjoon becomes your problem.

“Wait a second,” Hoseok almost wails. “Why can’t I stay with her? She’s my roommate!”

Yoongi looks offended. Probably is. “You don’t think I can defend you?”

Hoseok flushes crimson. “I-I didn’t say that…”

He’s halfway through a stuttered, awkward apology when Jimin and Taehyung appear, not at all looking like they’d just been getting off together. Sure, Jimin’s hair is a little mussed, but Taehyung—

Taehyung is only holding a box.

Yoongi pinches the bridge of his nose. “Taehyung.”

“Please don’t use that tone of voice with me,” Taehyung whines. “You know this is my emotional support jigsaw puzzle.”

“All you’re bringing is a jigsaw puzzle?”

“And condoms!”

“You’re not bringing any clothes? Medicine? Food?” Namjoon asks, because he might not be the oldest but he has the most overworked single mother energy out of all of you. “Jimin, go help him pack a bag of clothes, at least. Yoongi, can you grab any extra house stuff and toiletries you have laying around? Laundry detergent, soap, shampoo.”

Taehyung scoffs, sound dissipating as he disappears back down the hallway. “We can just steal that stuff.”

Hoseok looks like he’s about to pass out. “I am not turning into a criminal!”

He does.

You all do.

The six of you pile into two separate vehicles—you and Hoseok with Namjoon again in his truck, and Jimin and Taehyung behind you in Yoongi’s beater car. The plan is to drive to Namjoon’s cousin’s house in the middle of nowhere and bunker down there for a while. It’s plenty big—“His parents are politicians, so he’s got money,” was Namjoon’s explanation—and far enough outside of the city that it should buy you enough time to come up with something better.

Step one, though: Wal-Mart.

“Don’t worry, I steal from here all the time,” Taehyung says, breezing to the front of the pack like he’s leading the rest of you into war. Yoongi throws his hands up. Jimin looks lovestruck.

Hoseok hangs back by the cars, still traumatized from the Squishmallow experience, and you stay with him. You’ve seen Zombieland, and you won’t be able to do much fighting with a broken hand. At best you’d be able to fire a gun or whack someone with a pipe, but you’re not trying to go kamikaze mode on some innocent bastard in a Wal-Mart who’s also just trying to survive.

You’ve known Hoseok for a long time—since your sophomore year of college, when he was failing the stats class you shared and you took pity on him and offered some tutoring—so you’ve seen him in various states of distress. You know all of his tells, and the way he’s gnawing at his cuticles is a glaring one.

“Hobi, hey,” you say, moving to gently pull his hand away from his mouth. “Try to relax, okay? Don’t make yourself bleed.”

“I feel like I’m gonna be sick,” he replies. Anguish is clear on his face. “Everything feels fucking overwhelming and scary.”

“I know. I know it does, but if we’re gonna get through this we’re gonna need you, all right?” He nods but he’s shaking, still looking tormented and green around the edges. You pull him into a hug that has him nearly sagging in defeat.

Slowly, your shoulder grows wet and warm. Hoseok’s crying, body shaking from the weight of all his fear, and all you can do is hold him. “You’re my best friend, Hoseok,” you whisper into his hair. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

You feel him nod. Then, in the smallest voice, “Yoongi too?”

Figures. Hoseok’s a horny little demon at the best of times—the thin walls of your apartment can attest to that—so it makes sense that impending doom would exacerbate it. “Sure, Hobi,” you assure him, scratching softly at his scalp.

You get him calmed down. Tucked into the backseat of Yoongi’s car so he can lay down. He’s asleep not long after, fatigue finally catching up, and you just stay. Park your ass at the edge of the seat, leave the door open, waiting. There’s a gentle, warm breeze, and you wish you could bottle it. Wish you could do more in this moment than just experience it, because it’s the last chance you’ll have at something resembling normalcy.

You might never be able to hug Hoseok in a parking lot again.

“We’re back!”

You look up, not at all surprised to see Taehyung skipping towards you, arms full of stolen goods. “I see that. What’d you get?”

“Oh, a lot of stuff,” he answers. Yoongi pops the trunk of his car and they set about shoving it all inside. “It was packed in there! Felt like Black Friday, except everyone was fighting over bread instead of ultra hi-def TVs.”

Wary, you look over your motley crew. “Are you all okay?”

“Yeah,” Yoongi answers, voice gruff. “It was mostly civilized. Don’t think people really realize what’s going on yet. Is Hoseok sleeping?”

You nod. “He, uh—had a moment? He got really upset, so he’s sleeping it off… if that’s okay?”

Yoongi just shrugs. “Yeah, whatever. Who’s riding with me?”

“Me,” Jimin says. “I’m not taking the bitch seat in the truck.” Taehyung immediately pouts, some unspoken bond clearly broken now, and Jimin scoffs. “Don’t pout at me. You know my ass requires a full seat.”

“But—”

Namjoon pointedly slams Yoongi’s trunk closed. Hoseok doesn’t stir an inch. “Jin’s expecting us so we need to get moving. Taehyung, shut up and get in the truck.” Then, to you: “Guess you’re with me again.”

Fine by you, especially since Namjoon ripped the sleeves off his shirt.

Not even Namjoon’s arms can salvage this drive.

Taehyung fiddles with the radio the whole time. Flips between radio stations that are all depressing carbon copies of one another. Complains that Namjoon’s truck is too old to have a CD player and that he doesn’t know how to work cassette tapes. Complains endlessly about Namjoon’s driving, too, although you can’t really blame him for that one.

“Hey,” he eventually says, elbowing you a little too hard in your side. “I don’t wanna be rude or anything, but—”

Namjoon tries to snort and immediately regrets it. “I don’t wanna be rude or anything, but I’m about to say something extremely rude.”

“I was not!” Taehyung defends, but when you quirk an eyebrow at him to continue, he says, “Are you willing to sacrifice yourself for me and Jimin in the unlikely event that the three of us are cornered by a zombie and are facing imminent death and only two will survive? Because I think you should be.”

You blink. “Um.”

“It just makes the most sense logically,” he continues, as if he hadn’t just volunteered you to be a zombie chew toy. “Jimin and I are soulmates. Platonic and romantic. And you’re—” He pauses. “Um. New. And Jimin might not look like it because he’s small, but he’s scrappy and can easily protect me, which means you’re redundant. Not to mention your hand is broken, so.”

You study him. “So, what are you bringing to the table?” you ask. Taehyung looks at you like you’re stupid. “I’m just saying, if Jimin and I can both defend ourselves, why wouldn’t we team up in the name of long-term survival and ditch the weakest link, which would be you?”

Namjoon laughs loudly beside you. His whole body shakes with it, a sound somewhere between a guffaw and a dog panting, and it’s a nice contrast to the death glare Taehyung’s sending you. “Jimin wouldn’t do that to me.”

“People are unpredictable when they’re staring death in the face.”

Taehyung’s silent the rest of the way.

It hurts to admit it, but you’re rethinking your all-politicians-are-evil, eat-the-rich stance, because it starts like—

(Seokjin’s parents’ place is truly in the middle of nowhere and safeguarded to the nth degree, harder to get close to than Area 51. The house itself is deceptively large and modern, clapped in black-stained red cedar. Single-level. Expansive windows you’d thought were an oversight until you got closer and realized they were made of armored glass.

“Shit, is all of this really necessary?” you ask, stepping inside. There’s definitely insider trading going on here. “Are these people on the goddamn Supreme Court?”

“That’s not funny,” Namjoon says.

“Are you sure? Because I’m pretty sure that”—you point to a nondescript door with an ominous symbol on it—”is some kind of rich people bomb shelter and the only politicians I know that would require this level of security are the I just voted to strip half the country of the ability to make their own reproductive decisions kind.”

Namjoon chokes.

“Gross,” a voice chimes from behind you. “Please don’t debase and sully my parents’ good name by even joking that they’re conservatives.”

Jesus, is everyone in this family stupidly attractive? The man before you is shorter than Namjoon but still tall, legs as long as his shoulders are wide. Hair styled neat but dyed blond. Kind eyes and plush lips, and there’s the Kim family resemblance.

“Hi, I’m Seokjin,” he says, offering you his hand. Definitely raised in a family of politicians. “I hear you’re the one who broke my cousin’s nose.”

“I, uh, might’ve done that, yeah.”

Seokjin smiles. “Cool. Welcome. Please make yourself at home and we’ll chat strategy later.”)

Which becomes—

(Later turns into days.

For the most part, life proceeds normally. Seokjin gets periodic updates from his parents who have left the country entirely—(“Damn, they just left you here?” someone asks, and that’s how you meet Jungkook)—about the government response, or lack thereof, along with whatever useless psychobabble the CDC is sending out. None of it bodes well for the future, so you spend most of your time trying to stay in the present. Right now, you’re okay. Right now, you’re with a group of people hellbent on staying alive. Right now, you have enough food and shelter in a house in the middle of nowhere with armored glass windows and a bomb shelter.

The eight of you eat meals together and play games and talk about your Before lives. You already knew Namjoon worked at a nonprofit and that Jimin and Yoongi owned a bar, but you learn Taehyung was in grad school for art therapy. Hoseok, of course, split his time between the dance studio and the streetwear boutique his sister owned. Seokjin was some bigwig corporate attorney.

Jungkook, of all things, played minor league baseball.

Needless to say there won’t be any scientific breakthroughs from any of you.

“I was supposed to go pro this year,” Jungkook huffs, forcefully grabbing the microphone for the karaoke machine. He’s been singing “I Will Survive” by Gloria Gaynor for four days.

All things considered, you somehow managed to fall into the best possible outcome, even if one of Taehyung or Jimin still tries to convince you to sacrifice yourself at least six times a day.)

Which culminates in the one possible downside—

“Yoongi wants Hoseok to move into my room,” Namjoon says, appearing in the doorway of your (now-solo, apparently) room. He takes up nearly the entire frame. It makes you feel a little lightheaded.

“Oh,” you reply stupidly. “Okay. Are you here for his stuff?”

“No, I’m here to ask if I can move in with you. I’m not really interested in spending the rest of the zombie apocalypse third-wheeling.”

Sarcasm seems like your best defense. “Wow, after all we’ve been through. We’ve got a real enemies to lovers vibe going on. I’m pretty into it.”

Namjoon flushes down to his toes. “Haaa, what? We’re—that’s not—we’re not even lovers yet.”

You give him a second, but he doesn’t seem to realize what he’s said, so you can’t help but smirk, to press on the bruise just to watch him squeal. “Yet?”

Now he turns full-on crimson. “That’s not what I meant.”

Somehow he’s still cute, even with the yellow-green bruising beneath his eyes and his sheepish, hunched posture. Namjoon is the kind of guy that makes you feel bold, makes you want to mess him up, but he’s also the kind of cute that has you relenting, easing off.

“Sure,” you finally say. “You can move your stuff in here.”

He smiles, dimples flashing, and he’s only gone a few minutes so you have no time to catch your breath before he’s back, dumping his clothes on the bed to put them in the dresser. He doesn’t mention sleeping arrangements because there’s no point: all of the bedrooms have single, queen-sized beds. Naturally, you and Hoseok had bunked together with little fuss, having fallen asleep in each other’s beds a million times after years spent living together. You assume it’d been the same for Namjoon and Yoongi and their decades of friendship.

You’d joked about being enemies to lovers; clearly you’d chosen the wrong trope.

“How’s your nose?” you ask, wordlessly moving to help sort and refold the t-shirts as best you can. They smell nice: something soft and clean and inherently Namjoon.

“Still sore,” he answers. Says a small thank you when you push a stack of black tees towards him. “Jungkook’s been helping me with the packing.”

“He’s had a lot of broken noses?”

“He’s had a lot of broken everything.”

It hits you, then, how much of an outsider you are. That the six of them are all connected, have history. And Namjoon must notice, because he grows serious. Gets shy all over again when he says, “Hey, we’re all glad you and Hoseok are here.”

You snort. “Yeah, as a sacrifice.”

Namjoon laughs a little, too. “Taehyung’s only so insistent because he’s useless. He accidentally stepped on a stink bug once and cried. He’s not really built for something like this.”

“Are any of us?”

“You are, I think,” he says immediately, no hesitation. “You’ve been really calm, haven’t panicked at all. It’s helped me a lot—all of us, really.”

Oh, you’re embarrassed. “I have to be, living with someone like Hobi.” Why are you embarrassed? “One time he saw the red light on the coffee machine and slept in my room for a week because he thought there was a demon in our apartment.”

Namjoon can’t help himself. “Was there?”

You sigh, over-dramatic and theatrical. “No, just me.”

He laughs, loud and unashamed, but it sounds a lot more like everything’s going to be fine.

Hoseok had been a cuddler.

You’d always wake up with him wound around you like a snake, limbs akimbo as he snored quietly. But, like all things Hoseok did and does, there was grace in it. He kept a normal body temperature. He didn’t hog too much of the bed or the duvet. He didn’t kick you or elbow you in the side of the head. Aside from the cuddling, which has never really been your thing, Hoseok was a perfect bed-sharing partner.

The same cannot be said for Namjoon.

His broken nose has him snoring at obscene levels. It doesn’t lessen when you shove a pillow over your head, either, which is not the way you fantasized about going lightheaded in bed with him. Not to mention his stupidly large body is stupidly large and requires a lot of space. What had started as a clean split down the middle has you grasping to the edge, trying desperately not to fall off. Every time you try to inch closer to the center, Namjoon unconsciously protests and sends elbows flying, and arms that size can do a lot of damage. He sleeps so hot you always wake up in a thin sheen of sweat just from the proximity.

You’re not sure you sleep at all for the first three days.

And then things start to shift. Like your roommate, Namjoon is a cuddler too, but in vastly different ways. Hoseok’s would be subconscious—he never dared to touch you when he was awake out of respect for boundaries and personal space, but Namjoon doesn’t have those hangups. He climbs into bed one night and immediately fits himself to your back before asking if it’s okay, and yeah, of course it is. You couldn’t have waterboarded Hoseok into touching you purposely the way Namjoon does casually, so unthinking, just does what he wants.

It makes you ache.

So you become sleepless for other, new reasons.

His snoring lessens, gives way to these breathy little sounds that border on soft moans. Still obscene. He stops forcing you to the edge of the mattress and instead presses you into it, the weight of his massive body leaving you with nowhere else to go. Every time he touches you, either knowingly or not, he leaves trails of heat in his wake.

Even in sleep, Namjoon is a tease.

Sometimes his hands will drift—too close, too far, both simultaneously—and you feel your breath hitch, wondering if he’s awake, if he’s doing it on purpose. Sometimes you wake up with him wrapped around you, hard cock pressing into your ass, the small of your back. Sometimes he’ll rut once, twice, and come to and disappear to the opposite side of the bed in shame and embarrassment, leaving you frustrated and pretending to be asleep.

Because you’re not… sure.

You know you’re attracted to Namjoon. You know he’s some degree of attracted to you in return. But the outside world is so volatile, the situation you’re in so unstable, that you’re afraid to push. Afraid the delicate house of cards will come tumbling down, that you two will fuck to get it out of your systems and make things horribly awkward, ruin the good thing you’ve got going.

But you can only take so much, is the thing. There’s a very large man with a very large cock at your back and you’ve had enough of this game.

“Namjoon,” you say, rolling in his arms so you’re face to face. You poke him in the stomach when he doesn’t stir. “Namjoon.”

He jolts awake, hands immediately moving to you—checking that you’re still there, that you’re safe. “Wha’?” he slurs, voice thick with sleep, deeper than you’ve ever heard it. “Wha’ happened?”

Now you feel awkward. He’s concerned with your safety in the midst of a fucking apocalypse and you’re just horny. Still, sometimes the only way out is through, so you blurt out, “Do you want to fuck me?”

That grabs his attention. He’s fully awake now, propped up on one elbow, gazing down at you like you’ve completely lost your mind. Fucking stupid but not dumb, like a mantra. “Uh.” He pauses. Swallows. Pushes sweaty hair off his forehead. “Did—did you, uh, get bit? Are you feeling okay?”

You glare, though it’s useless in the dark. “I’m fine. How’s your dick?” You dare a glance downward. Still hard is the answer.

Namjoon embarrasses easily in a way that is both horribly endearing and horribly inconvenient, because instead of feeding you some greasy line like want to find out? he’s reaching down to adjust himself in his sleep shorts, stumbling over apologies as he goes. “Shit, fuck, I’m so sorry, this is so awkward, I’m sorry—”

“Can you answer my question, please?”

Namjoon stills. Puts that giant brain to use. “Um. Which one? You asked me two.”

“Well, I can clearly see that your dick is still very hard, so let’s start with the first one.”

There’s a sound that you think is meant to sound like a laugh. A pained a-haaa that sounds more like Namjoon begging for divine intervention in the form of death. “The, uh, doIwanttofuckyou question?”

“That would be the one, yes.”

“Is… is there a wrong answer?”

“No.”

He nods, tongue darting out to wet his lips. It’s lewd, a cruel and unusual punishment for your fleeting moment of horny delirium. Gets even worse when he tugs the plush bottom one between his teeth, staring at you all the while. Sizing you up, it feels like. Deciding between what he wants to do and what he’s actually going to do.

Just like the last week of your life, everything goes from zero to one hundred in a split-second.

“Do you wanna talk about this first?” he asks. You’re just staring at one another and he already sounds fucked out. Obscene.

“What’s there to talk about?”

He reaches for you. Two fingers beneath your chin and a thumb on the hinge of your jaw to keep you where he wants you. “What you want.” Leans in, his lips so close to your ear. “What you don’t.”

Around you, the world narrows. Nothing exists outside of this bed. Not the weird house in the middle of the woods. Not the apocalypse. Not a goddamn thing except Namjoon and his big hands and the way he’s touching you. “Tell me what you want,” he says, words skimming along the column of your throat, “and I’ll do it.”

You wonder if he’s talking about big-picture shit or just sex. If he’s someone who needs something concrete to hold onto before he fucks or if it even matters anymore. Would he still want to sleep with you if you’d met under different circumstances that night at the bar, or is it just something to pass the time while you wait out the end of the world?

Although, you feel like the world might end if you don’t finally fuck this man, so maybe it doesn’t matter.

“I’m clean and I have an IUD I’ll have to figure out how to remove in three years if I live that long. I’m down for mostly anything as long as you ask first but I draw the line at most bodily fluids. Oh, also—don’t kiss me if your tongue goes anywhere near my ass. I think that’s it, though. What about you?”

Momentarily stunned, Namjoon’s hands stop moving. “I’ve never eaten ass before.”

“Oh. I mean, we totally can if you want to, but—really?”

“Why do you sound so surprised?”

“Because your lips are pornographic,” you admit, completely void of shame. “Like, you have the kind of mouth that looks like it’s done a lot of dirty things.”

Namjoon laughs. “You also said I look like I like getting pushed around.”

You cock an eyebrow. “Do you?”

He’s growing bold. His response is a low chuckle, more vibration than anything, and he reaches for you again. Seems like he can’t keep his hands off of you, needs to be touching you always, even before when it was harmless, and this time he goes for your hips. Fits his large hands to your waist, the tops of your thighs, presses his thumbs into your hip bones. “Most people don’t try.”

“Yeah, that tracks,” you reply dazedly.

His lips move to your neck, trace the neckline of your sleep shirt, dip below to nip at your collarbone. “Where’s your hand, baby?” he speaks into your skin. Finds what he’s looking for and pins your arm above your head, gently like you’ll break. You think you might. “You can push me around when you’re healed. Can I kiss you?”

You must nod, because Namjoon drags his lips from your throat to your jaw to the corner of your mouth, and then he’s pressing them to your own. This is gentle too, Namjoon careful with his own injury, and it’s not lost on you that this is your fault. You’re not going to get the filthy, primal fucking you want because you’d thrown a punch in a bar, but this isn’t a bad consolation prize, you think.

Because Namjoon is good at this. He’s easy to rile up but rock-solid once he pushes past it. And, sure, he kisses you gently, but he means it. Whimpers into your mouth like you’re doing him a favor, and you think you might be able to do this, just this, forever.

Your free hand fists the thin cotton of his shirt as he licks into your mouth. It should be gross, because it’s the middle of the night and you no longer have the luxury of your favorite toothpaste, but you find it hard to care when he drops his weight, that massive body of his pressing into you, against you in all the right ways. This time it’s you who whines, and it’s a small sound but it seems to drive Namjoon a little crazy.

“Wanna hear you,” he says, pulling back, and you’re about to ask him what that means, if he just wants you to start moaning like some bad porn, but then he’s grabbing your leg to wrap it around his waist and pressing his hips to you harder.

“Oh fuck,” you sigh. Even through his sleep shorts you can tell he’s big—big and really fucking hard. Forget a zombie apocalypse, you’re not sure you’ll survive this right here.

What Namjoon wants, Namjoon gets. You’re unabashed as he grinds his cock against your core, careless about your volume. You’ve suffered through almost everyone in this house either fucking or jerking off, and you can take a little ribbing, so you’re going to enjoy this. What’s the point in modesty if you’re all going to die, anyway?

So you just keep babbling, words spilling out of your mouth before you can filter them, writhing and whining all the while. “I know, baby,” Namjoon says, hands all over, mouth not far behind. “Keep going,” he urges, hands to your hips to move you the way he wants.

“Thigh,” you say, barely able to get the word out of your mouth with the way he’s moving against you. “Wan-wanna ride your thigh.”

He keens. “Shit, yeah, okay.”

Namjoon fucks like it’s the end of the world.

You get off on his thigh but he deems it not enough. Strips you bare and situates himself between your legs. Puts that sinful mouth to use and gets you off again. Asks you when the last time you had sex was and laughs at your answer, all condescending heat, and he uses the slick from you and his mouth to stretch you on three of his fingers.

You’re going to ruin this man’s hair once you have two working hands. Maybe just ruin him in general.

The build-up is dizzying. One second he’s slow and sensual, content to take you apart, continuously bring you to the edge just to yank you back—and the next is all feral urgency. He can’t make you come, can’t kick his shorts off, can’t peel his briefs down those thick thighs fast enough.

“Will you ride me?” he asks, so intent on taking your one rule to heart. As long as you ask first. But some things don’t need to be questioned, like when Hobi asks if you want to take an edible and watch the Spice Girls movie and will you sit on Namjoon’s massive dick.

You huff, already halfway in his lap. “Clown question, bro.”

As you sink down onto him, you understand why he’d laughed when you said it’d been awhile, why he got a little cocky. Three fingers hadn’t been anywhere near enough, but the stretch, the overwhelming fullness, is delicious.

“I was go—ah, fuck—gonna suggest you don’t ca-call me bro, but I don’t think I care when you feel this fucking good.”

“Yeah?” you stupidly ask, and you’re usually better at dirty talk, but there’s not much you can do when all of your brainpower is going towards riding the best cock you’ve ever had in your life. “Tell me.”

Namjoon moans, grips your hips to move you again. Back and forth at a steady, torturous pace. “Baby,” he whines. “Feels like one of those wa-water wiggler toys—”

Okay, so clearly neither of you are at your best right now.

And that’s how it goes. You brace yourself on Namjoon’s chest, nails of your good hand digging into his pec, your broken one held in his. Time seems to drag on forever and stop all at once, and you’re oversensitive and admittedly a little in pain and a lot exhausted so you’re probably not going to come again, but you find yourself dangerously close watching Namjoon chase his own orgasm.

Head tilted back, neck on display, mouth dropped open. You want to shove your fingers inside, so you do.

He comes immediately.

Namjoon kisses you as the two of you come down, whispering more praise in between each one. Tells you how good you are, how beautiful, that he’s glad you broke his nose. Then he realizes the dumb thing that has come out of his mouth and pauses, looking confused and delicate. He’s so cute you kiss him first this time.

And then you pull back and realize he’s got blood all over his face, gushing from the nose he’s so glad you broke, and he’s out of the bed and into the bathroom before you can blink.

“You can’t do that, we’re soulmates!”

Jimin scoffs, placing the Robber on Taehyung’s hex tile anyway, ruthless as he watches his boyfriend miserably discard half his hand. “Your fault for building a city there. I’m coming for your ore tile next.”

You roll your lips to keep from laughing. You hadn’t expected the house’s sardonically-named Royal Couple to be on the brink of disaster twenty minutes into a game of Catan, but you’re safe for now in your small part of the world, surrounded by all of these people you’ve come to love, Namjoon especially, so you’ll take all the manufactured, external drama you can get.

“Told you he’d turn on you, Tae,” you chime. He gives you the finger. “You can’t trust Libra men.”

“What about virgins!” Jungkook calls from the kitchen, where Yoongi has convinced him to drink tequila and brandy to see if he can get him to punch Namjoon, too, and Seokjin laughs so hard he looks like he’s about to keel over and die.

Yeah, you think you’re going to be fine.

[cariantha]

Hunger Pains

Book: Open Heart, Post-Series

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Sawyer Brooks)

Rating: Explicit

Warning: 🔥NSFW, ⛔18+ Only, contains explicit sexual content

Category: Fluff, Smut, Halloween

Word count: 2.6K

Summary: Sawyer is in a bad mood. Ethan helps her calm down.

Prompts:

🫦From Anon: Can I get a fic with Ethan giving MC a love bite or hickey?

☀️From @peonierose: Ethan & Sawyer + “sunshine”

🍬From @jerzwriter: "Actually, I like candy corn!"

Events:

🎃For @choicesoctober event: Costume / Halloween / Vampire / Meme

🥰For @choicesprompts Flufftober 2023 event: I want to take care of you.

“Mr. Cox. An appropriate name for such a dick,” Sawyer thought to herself, blood boiling as she exited Room 513. 

The patient being cared for inside could easily steal the title of “Biggest PITA” away from the infamous Nigel Platt. And only making matters worse, her consultation had been interrupted multiple times by a cocky intern eager to show off. 

Once the door closed behind her, she spun on Dr. Perkins. 

“How many times have we told you not to interrupt when your resident or attending is speaking with a patient? If you do that again, I’ll make sure you are written up.”

Sawyer strode to the nearby nurses’ station to update Mr. Cox’s chart. The obstinate intern followed. 

“How am I supposed to learn anything around here if I’m not allowed to ask questions?” he argued.

“You start by shutting the hell up and listening. Had you done that in the first place, we wouldn’t be standing here having this conversation. If you were really trying to understand something back there, you would have directed your questions to me. Instead you attempted to conduct a medical history interview, on an extremely agitated patient, minutes before he goes to surgery,” she scolded. 

“This is–”

Her patience wearing thin, Sawyer spoke over him. “Jaaackie, get Dr. Know-It-All away from me before I go all Ramsey on his ass,” she demanded through gritted teeth. 

Jackie, having caught the tail end of the exchange, looked up from her tablet. 

“I think you just did,” she answered, “...and Perkins, the patient in 506 needs a new catheter. Now.”

“But that’s not even my pati-” he started to complain.

With one harsh look from the Chief Resident, Dr. Perkins finally tucked his tail between his legs and sulked down the hall.

"You're breathing fire today," Jackie quipped as she rounded the desk to leave.

Sawyer ignored her and continued typing furiously on her tablet.

Down the hall, Jackie and Bryce traded places getting on and off the elevator.

“Hey, have you seen Brooks? I mean Ramsey. Brooks-Ramsey?” Bryce guessed, not sure what to call his friend since she and Ethan surprised everyone by eloping a couple weeks ago. 

Jackie pointed in the direction of the nurses’ desk. “I hope you brought snacks. She’s in a mood again,” she warned as the steel doors closed between them.

A minute later, Bryce slunk next to Sawyer, bumping shoulders to get her attention.

“Finally. What took you so long?” Sawyer rebuked, shoving the tablet towards him. “Here, take this guy away. And while you have his head open, feel free to poke the part of his brain that disables his speech.”

“Well, aren’t you a pocketful of sunshine this morning,” he teased.

“After a few minutes with this asshole and you’ll understand why,” she said, storming off.

“Annnd, Dr. Ramsey it is,” he decided. 

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

Shortly thereafter, Sawyer sat in the diagnostics office and stewed in silence as the team meeting ran over schedule. Her annoyance grew more intense with each passing minute as Ethan and Harper debated, and Tobias egged them on for his own amusement. No longer able to take it, she interrupted. 

“Do you need me? Because, if not, I have patients who do.” 

Her three colleagues snapped their heads in her direction, surprised by the bite in her tone. With raised eyebrows, she looked at the team leader and challenged him to respond. 

Ethan cleared his throat. “Uh, let’s see how the labs come back and continue this discussion when we have more information.” 

Harper and Tobias quickly got out of Dodge as Sawyer stacked her notes and gathered her things. When she stood to follow, Ethan reached for her hand and held her back.

“Hey, what’s wrong? What’s got you so wound up?”

She exhaled deeply, his touch instantly calming her.

“I’m sorry.” Frustrated tears welled in her witch-green eyes. “I'm super cranky. These third-trimester hormones are no joke. My mood the last few days has been…” 

A single teardrop fell down her cheek.

“Come here,” he urged, pulling her into his lap. “It’s been, what?” 

“It’s either been hangry or hornery or both,” she pouted and sagged her shoulders.

Cracking a smile at her dramatics, “I know what ‘hangry’ is, but 'hornery?'”

“Horny and ornery.”

With a shake of his head, Ethan caressed her swollen belly. “So, what I hear you saying is you’re irritable because you're either hungry or horny…”

“Right now, it’s both,” she interjected, her fingers seductively dancing up his chest.

“And the cure for this condition is to either feed you … or fuck you?”

“Look, I’m not saying food and sex would solve all my problems, but it would sure help me calm the hell down,” she admitted with a coquettish grin.

“Well, as much as I’d like to help you satisfy your hunger pains, all I can offer right now is this.” 

Ethan reached for the bowl of Halloween candy on the conference table.

“Boo,” she scowled playfully. Sawyer stood and sifted through the options, “I’ll take the candy corn off your hands and leave the chocolates for you. I know they’re your favorite.”

“Actually, I like candy corn,” he said, ripping a small package open with his teeth and pouring them all into his mouth.

“Seriously?” she asked, surprised.

“My dad loves them. We always had a bowl out during the season. I used to push them up on my canines when I was a kid and pretend I was Dracula.”

“Aw, cute. Well, if that’s true, then I’ll take some of these too,” she reached back into the bowl and stuffed her pockets. “Supposedly, chocolate is a good substitute for sex. Feed two birds with one scone.” 

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

A couple hours later, Sawyer was down at the lab demanding the results for one of her patients.

“What do you mean it’s going to be another four to six hours? I ordered these tests yesterday!” 

Her raised voice began to draw the attention of others, including her indirect supervisor. Ethan was just finishing a consultation with the hospital’s lead hematologist, when he heard the uproar. 

The lab assistant snapped back. “Look, lady, we’re doing the best we can. The tech will run the test as soon as he’s back from lunch.”

“Lady?! Do you see this badge? That’s Dr. Brooks to you.” 

Sawyer spewed red hot anger as she spun on her heels. From several feet away, Ethan could practically feel the heat radiating from her. Her neck and cheeks were crimsoned and her fists clenched at her sides. 

“That’s enough,” he admonished, taking Sawyer by the wrist and swiftly pulling her into a familiar and dark supply closet.

Ethan loomed over her as he backed her into a corner.  

“I know… I’m sorry,” she apologized. Sad cat-like eyes pleading for forgiveness. 

“This kind of stress isn’t good for you or the baby,” he advised. “This is serious, Sawyer. You leave me no choice but to help you calm down.” The corner of his mouth began to turn up in a sly grin, as he ran his hand over her hair. 

“Oh, thank god,” she sighed, crashing into his lips.

“We’ll…have to be…quick…and quiet,” he murmured between desperate kisses.

As Sawyer slipped out of her shoes, Ethan lent a hand, sliding her pants and underwear to the ground. As she stepped out of them, Ethan unzipped his pants and pushed them down to expose his rising need. Their white lab coats provided a curtain of privacy in the event that anyone walked in on them. 

Lifting her up around his waist, Sawyer tried to wrap her legs around him. With several extra inches around her midsection, she had a hard time locking her swollen ankles behind him and finding a comfortable position.

“Ethan, my belly. This isn’t working,” she squirmed under his hold.

Determined to make this work despite the cramped space, Sawyer slid down. She shrugged off her lab coat, turned her back to him, and placed her hands on the wall.  

Ethan took the hint immediately. His hands began to roam under her shirt, starting at her sore back. His thumbs applied light pressure as he worked his way down the length of her spine, earning a few grateful groans. He also spent a few seconds massaging her ass, finishing with a gentle squeeze. 

Closing the small gap between them, Ethan reached around and tenderly appreciated her baby bump. Then slithering his fingers into the cups of her bra, he ghosted around her sensitive nipples. 

Sawyer felt his breath next to her ear and turned her head to meet him in a passionate kiss, his erection poking and teasing her backside.

Navigating in the dark, Ethan leaned back to align himself with her entrance. “God, Sawyer,” he gasped, easily gliding between her slick folds. “You are so ready for me.”

She looked over her shoulder with a smile and jokingly reminded him of her libidinous mood swings. “What’d I tell you? Me so horny.” 

With an amused shake of his head, he pulled back gently, then began to pump his hips. Slow and soft at first.

“Mmmmm, that feels so good, babe,” Sawyer mewled.

Ethan picked up the pace. He pushed harder and deeper, but careful not to get too rough with his pregnant wife or her precious cargo.

“Ohhhh,” she let slip a little too loud.

“Shhhh, baby,” he breathed heavily, working up a sweat.

As her legs began to tremble, Sawyer kept her hands firmly braced against the wall for support. 

“I’m close…cover…my mouth,” she panted.

With a hand on her hip to hold her close and steady, Ethan reached around with his other and gently covered her mouth. He leaned in and pressed his chest against her back, resting his chin in the crook of her neck. “Let go, beautiful,” he mumbled against the feel of her rapid pulse.

After a couple deep pumps, Sawyer’s whole body shuddered. She moaned her satisfaction into Ethan’s hand. The vibrations pulsing through her body, and the warm breath against his palm, provoked his own release. Clamping his mouth onto her neck, he muted himself.

The euphoria made her forget all her aches and pain. So, when Sawyer tightened her muscles around Ethan’s still bursting length, it hardly registered when he bit down hard on her throat.

To avoid getting caught, they didn't spend much time basking in the afterglow. Ethan gave his wife a loving kiss, and when he was certain she could stand unsupported, he pulled up his pants and helped Sawyer step into hers. 

With a quick peek into the hallway, Sawyer checked to see if the coast was clear. “Hold on…it’s Wen,” she whispered, holding up a hand to halt him. 

When Dr. Wen disappeared around a corner, they exited the supply closet.

“Do you think she heard us?” 

“If she did, I’m sure she assumed it was only one of the ghosts that she believes haunts these halls,” Ethan chuckled. “The more important question is, are you feeling better?”

“Much better, thank you.”

“Well, let’s make doubly sure and head up to the cafeteria for some lunch.”

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

Later that night, at home and in the shower, Ethan pushed wet hair away from Sawyer's neck and discovered the frightful bruising.

“Oh, Soe, I’m sorry,” he expressed, carefully skimming his fingers over the bite mark. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Sawyer touched the tender spot and moved around him to see her reflection in his shaving mirror. 

“Oh my gosh!” she laughed as she traced her fingers over the imprints of his teeth. “I married a freakin’ vampire!” 

“I’m sorry. But, hey,” he innocently smiled back in the mirror, “...only a vampire can love you forever.”

He wrapped his arms around her and buried his face into her neck. “Mwahahaha,” he snarled at her ear, before placing a delicate, healing kiss to the love bite.

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

The next day, the newlyweds arrived at work hand in hand and walked toward the attendings’ locker room. Pausing just outside the door, Sawyer turned to face her husband. 

“Hey, just a reminder I volunteered to help in the clinic this morning. Carrick said he would do rounds for me.”

“I remembered,” Ethan said, bending down to give Sawyer a quick but loving kiss on the lips. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. I’ll see you later,” she returned, reluctantly letting go of his hand.

Stepping into the locker room, she spotted a familiar face. Well, sort of. 

“Whoa, that looks soooo good, Elijah. Gross, but so realistic,” Sawyer awed. 

“Thanks! Those of us in the research department agreed to dress up like lab experiments gone wrong.”

“Well, mission accomplished. And, Happy Halloween, by the way. I know it’s your favorite day of the year.” 

As Elijah excitedly talked about his zombie character - which of course was inspired by a new John Carpenter video game - Sawyer tugged on her white coat and checked her reflection in the mirror. 

The bruising on her neck was much more prominent the day after and under the harsh fluorescent lighting of the hospital. She tried to adjust her hair and fix the collar of her jacket, but it was no use. She dug through her bag searching for her makeup case, quickly realizing she left it at home.

“Shit,” she thought to herself. 

“Aren’t you dressing up this year?” 

Elijah’s question brought her back to the conversation, and an idea popped into her head. 

“About that…do you have any more fake blood?”

“Yeah, there’s a tube in my locker. Help yourself,” he offered on his way out.

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

Down in the free clinic, Sawyer examined a very inquisitive eight-year old who noticed the bite mark and the two drips of dried blood on her neck. 

“Say ‘ahhhh!’” she instructed, using a tongue depressor to check the back of his throat. “Good, no swelling back there.” 

“Doctor! Did you get bit by a vampire?” 

“I’m afraid I did,” she admitted, putting on a bit of an act.

“Was it Dracula?”

“That’s still up for debate,” she laughed to herself, picturing little boy Ethan with candy corn fangs.

“Did it hurt?”

“Uh-uh.” 

“Did he suck your blood?”

“Justin, for goodness sake,” his mother chided and rolled her eyes.

“It’s fine,” Sawyer waved her off.

“Did he make you into a vampire too?”

“No,” turning her back to the young patient and facing his mother, she muttered, “...he just got me pregnant.” The patient’s mother cackled out loud.

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

That afternoon, Sawyer was on the fifth floor to check on a patient, when she spotted Ethan stepping into the hallway with Esme and her intern. When they were safely out of the patient’s earshot, he wheeled around on the intern and launched into a stern, and familiar, lecture. 

“...It doesn’t matter that you’re still learning…Whether this man lives or dies is on you…There is no room for mistakes…”

When he was done with his tirade, Ethan marched over to the nurses’ station and began tapping away on an iPad. 

“Don’t sweat him. He’s all bark and no bite. Isn’t that right, Dr. Brooks?” Esme asked as Sawyer approached the scene. 

Mrs. Ramsey shook her head vehemently. “Oh, no,” she spoke loud enough for Ethan to hear, “he bites alright.” When he looked up with a raised eyebrow, she winked and kept walking. 

A couple minutes later, Ethan’s phone pinged with a text notification.

Tag List: @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics @potionsprefect @jamespotterthefirst @annfg8 @peonierose @socalwriterbee @tessa-liam @jerzwriter @quixoticdreamer16 @mysticalgalaxysstuff @inlocusmads @txemrn @trappedinfanfiction @mvalentine @takemyopenheart @openheartforeverinmyheart @coffeeheartaddict2 @genevievemd @starrystarrytrouble @hopelessromantic1352 @kyra75 @lsvdw-blog @rookiemartin @headoverheelsforramsey @zealouscanonindeer @lilyoffandoms

[intomusings]

﹒﹒  unisex   names   masterlist     !

back  again  with  another  masterlist  for  u  all  after  receiving  some  anon  suggestions  .  here's  250+  unisex  first  names  for  ur  next  character  ,  these  come  from  various  influence  points  but  some  of  them  really  are  just  pulled  from  thin  air  .  the  names  are  sorted  by  first  letter  but  not  alphabetically  within  each  letter  !  if  u  found  this  useful  ,  feel  free  to  like  or  reblog  to  boost  this  .

A : ashtyn , avery , adrian , anderson , abbott , aaren , aki , alix , amari , aden , arden , addison , angel , arizona , armani , ayla , austen , avani , august , ajay . 

B : bailey , beck , bellamy , blaine , blake , brooks , bryce , bodhi , beverly , boston , boyd , benz , banks .

C : cameron , camden , carter , casey , charlie , chicago , carson , courtney .

D : dakota , dallas , delaney , denver , dylan , drew , dua .

E : eden , eli , elliot , emerson , emery , erin , evan , everest , ezra .

F : fallon , finley , finn , forest , foster , finnick , frankie .

G : gem , gabe , gray , genesis , garnet , greer .

H : hale , harley , harlow , harper , haven , hayden , hayes , hunter , hero , holland , hollis , hudson , honey .

I : indy , indiana , isa .

J : jace , jack , jade , jamie , jay , joey , jordan , jude , juniper , julian , jagger , journey .

K : kali , keegan , kelan , kendal , kenzie , kieran , kit , knox , kyle , kaiden , karsyn , kourtney .

L : lake , laurence , lennon , lennox , landry , levi , logan , london , luca , lux , lyric , love , link , lincoln .

M : maddox , madison , manning , manny , marlow , marley , mason , max , morgan , montana , milo , michi , memphis , milan , mica .

N : nevada , nicky , noah , nye , nova , nash , nyjah .

O : ollie , ozzy , orion , onyx , oakley , owen , oliver , ocean , opal , otto , orlando , odelia .

P : paris , pratt , parker , pascal , pax , paxton , paxon , penn , peyton , phoenix , presley , psalm , pearl .

Q : quincy , quinn , quentin .

R : rae , ryan , reagan , reed , reece , rei , rem , riley , river , robin , rocky , rory , royal , rowan , ryder , ryker , reign , rue .

S : sean , sacha , sailor , salem , sam , sawyer , scout , shiloh , skye , skyler , sloane , sol , spencer , stevie , sutton , sydney , storm , sab , seven , saint , sage , shelby , silver .

T : tai , teagan , torrence , tyler , tristan , trevor , tove , toni , tommy , theo , terry , tatum , tanner , tate , tayler , taryn , tris .

U : uma .

V : val , vesper , vega , vaughn , vince , venus , vinny .

W : waverly , wade , whitney , winnie , willy , wylie , wren , wyatt , winter , winslow , wolfe , west , weston .

X : xio , xyla , xashary .

Y : yael , yves , yara , yensi , yale .

Z : zane , zuri , zoe , zion , zayden , zero .

[choicesficwriterscreations]

Open Heart F/AtoW: June 2 - 8, 2024

✒️ = Fanfic | 📱 = Text Fics/Edits | 🎨 = Fanart Ⓜ️ = Mature Content 18+ | 🔥 = Explicit/NSFW 18+ 🏳️‍🌈 = LGBTQIA

BRYCE LAHELA

A Saucy Surprise 📱 | Bryce Lahela x F!MC - @storyofmychoices

ETHAN RAMSEY

At Last ✒️ | Ethan Ramsey x F!OC, feat. Tobias Carrick - @coffeeheartaddict2

End of beginnings ✒️ | Ethan Ramsey, Naveen Banerji, Harper Emery - @ilikemenbutonlyethanramsey

Ethan and MC 🎨 | Ethan Ramsey x F!MC - @bayleedraws-sometimesx

Green With Envy ✒️ | Ethan Ramsey x F!MC - @coffeeheartaddict2

Insecure ✒️ | Ethan Ramsey x F!MC - @jerzwriter

Processing and Developing: Interrupted ✒️ | Ethan Ramsey x F!MC, Tobias Carrick x F!MC - @alj4890

Reunions 📱 | Ethan Ramsey x F!MC, Sienna Trinh x M!OC - @liaromancewriter

Welcome to Boston ✒️ | Ethan Ramsey x F!MC - @ilikemenbutonlyethanramsey

RAFAEL AVEIRO

Moving On (Series) ✒️ | Rafael Aveiro x F!MC - @rafasgirl23415 Chapter 49: A Fight For My Family

SIENNA TRINH

Reunions 📱 | Ethan Ramsey x F!MC, Sienna Trinh x M!OC - @liaromancewriter

TOBIAS CARRICK

Processing and Developing: Interrupted ✒️ | Ethan Ramsey x F!MC, Tobias Carrick x F!MC

National Hug Your Cat Day 📱 | Tobias Carrick x F!MC - @jerzwriter

Main F/AtoW List: June 2 - 8, 2024

[shallyne]

Well, anyways, I was bored and made a list with book characters that I like from A to Z (couldn't come up with something for Q)

Book Characters List

A

Aemmory Percyval Taxus

Aelin Galathynius

Andarna

Amara Maroni

Alpha Villanova

Abraxos

Annaleigh Thaumas

Aedion Ashryver

Alexis

Asterin Blackbeak

Aaron Warner

Apollion

Aidas

Ansel of Briarcliff

Ash

Addie LaRue

Avery Kylie Grambs

Ash Maddox

Alex Volkov

Ava Chen

Alessandra Davenport

B

Bryce Quinlan

Bryaxis

Bone Carver

Brie

Barney Fitz-Amobi

Bel Price

Bridget Van Ascheberg

C

Corvina Clemm

Cassius

Cardan Greenbriar

Chloe Green

Camila Dunne

Cinnamon Hotpepper

Cormac Donnall

Catherine Pinkerton

Cara Ward

Cal

Carter Price

Chrstian Harper

D

Danika Fendyr

Dante Maroni

Donatella Dragna

Declan Emmett

Dorian Havilliard

Dante Russo

Dominic Davenport

E

Elide Lochan

Evangeline Fox

Emilia DiCarlo

Envy

Evelyn Hugo

Ember Quinlan

Elspeth Spindle

Evangelina Sage

Elm Rowan

F

Feyre Archeron

Fenrys Moonbeam

Fallon

Felix

Fleetfoot

G

Gavriel

H

Hunt Athalar

Helion

Hannah Rooney

I

Imogen

Iris Winnow

Ione Hawthorne

Isabella Valencia

J

Jacks

Juliette Ferrars

Jude Duarte

Jesiba Roga

Jurian

Jest

Jack Brunswick

Jespyr Yew

Josh Chen

Jules Ambrose

K

Kenji Kishimoto

Kaltain Rompier

Kai Young

L

Lilith

Lyla

Lorcan Salvaterre

Lidia Cervos

Legend

Lysandra

Lehabah

Liam Mairi

Luc

Luna Caine

Libby

M

Manon Blackbeak

Morrigan

Morana Vitalio

Meghan Chase

N

Nesryn Faliq

Nazeera Ibrahim

Nash Hawthorne

Naomi Ward

Nightmare

O

Oraya

Oak Greenbriar

P

Pippa Fitz-Amobi

Purrcival

Q

R

Rhysand

Raihn

Ruhn Danaan

Rogan

Rowan Whitethorn

Randall Silago

Rhiannon Matthias

Razor

Ravi Singh

Ravyn Yew

Renelm Yew

Roman Kitt

Rachel Price

Rhys Larsen

S

Shara Wheeler

Scarlett Dragna

Stryga

Suriel

Sartaq

Syrinx

Sgaeyl

Sal Singh

Stanley Forbes

Stella Alonso

Sloane Kensington

T

Tristan Caine

Tristan Flynn

Thea Delion

Tairn

Thimble

Tandri

Trystan Maverine

U

Usha

V

Violet Sorrengail

Vale

Vincent

Vittoria di Carlo

Viv

Vivian Lau-Russo

W

Wrath

Wren

X

Xaden Riorson

Y

Yrene Towers

Z

Zephyr Villanova

[coffeeheartaddict2]

When life has other plans (4/16)

Crime and punishment

Book: Open Heart (AU)

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC Casey Valentine

Word count: 2724

Warnings: sexual references, language

Category: angst

Rating: Mature

Summary: the fallout continues from the death of Mrs Martinez. Casey makes a decision that will put her in the fight of her career. There is also fallout from the confrontation with Landry and inspiration from an unexpected source leads to a cure for Naveen.

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Pixelberry.

Authors note: well a lot happened last chapter and it sets up a bit for coming chapters.

👩‍⚕️👩‍⚕️👩‍⚕️👩‍⚕️👩‍⚕️👩‍⚕️👩‍⚕️👩‍⚕️

Casey and the gang had been in emergency when it was busy before but this had not prepared them for what they were greeted with. There had been a train derailment on the underground T network. Triage had not been done on site as they were getting people out as they were able. Zaid went through the triage tags and away they went. The first patient that Casey came across she had to assign a black tag and that was upsetting. She kept on, trying to be quick but when she was speaking to the patients, finding out more to reach the diagnosis accurately was a hard habit to drop. Casey had never seen the emergency department that hectic, even Dr Harper Emery was down there assisting. A doctor suggested calling Dr Ramsey but Harper said he was out of state. It was a large-scale emergency, not just in numbers but with how long it was taking to get passengers out. Then news came through of a collapse in the tunnel. Just then an ambulance arrives. A little girl with some scratches arrived and was asking about the paramedic that saved her. Casey found out that the girl was the daughter of a man whom she had not long seen too. Then she was startled. The ambulance doors swung open and in on a gurney came Raf. He was badly injured and required surgery. Casey was seconded to assist with the surgery with Harper and Bryce. Raf thankfully pulled through but at the end Casey was alone with Harper. She stated that she knew she was involved. Casey stayed quiet. Not wanting to do or say anything stupid on fatigue’s doorstep. She is dismissed and makes her way to the locker room. She is met there by Sienna and Jackie and they go to a local diner for some much needed sustenance and caffeine.

“Ok so big elephant in the room, Dr Ramsey…”

“Dr Ramsey has been secretly treating Dr Banerji since before Dr Banerji quit. I stumbled upon this fact and since then we had been treating him in secret. The day Dr Ramsey quit is when he had to tell Naveen that he only had a month at most to live…”

“What Jackie is meaning is the other allegation…” said Sienna

“Yeah I had heard rumours but the people who said them were quite lowly ranked…” said Elijah as he wheeled up to the table.”

“After Miami they were actually stating fact. Ethan was keeping my work with Naveen out of the rankings. Nor did our extra curriculars affect the ratings either.” Said Casey adamantly.

The gang sat quietly to process what they had heard.

“Given the steady rise that does track, but what will happen if you win?”

“Can we not take for granted I will win.” Says Casey. “There is the Mrs M investigation cloud hanging over me. With Ethan having quit, who knows what is happening with the competition.”

“Yeah but with Ethan gone and if you maintain top position then there would be no room for accusations.” Said Jackie, “And besides keep your head down and bum up, they will find it difficult to pin this on you.”

“Yeah and what if the family organise a full autopsy? What then Jackie? Huh? The tip that the family received detailed a lot and that son of a bitch knew what was going down and when.” Said Casey, trying to hold back the tears.

“I just wanted to help her.”

“You did,” reassured Sienna, “You saw how happy she was to finally leave the hospital and do all the things she wished to do.”

In that moment Casey knew what she had to do.

“I am going to request an Ethics hearing. You all know I went through proper channels, yes I did what I had to do but it was for the right reasons at the end of the day.”

Her friends were shocked but they, like Casey, knew that an investigation led to very little scope to defend her actions. Casey knew she was in for a fight of her career but a wise mentor had always told her to never give up and that is what she was going to do, Never give up.

The next day came. She was nervous. She had never expected to be up for an ethics committee this early in her career but she knew she did what she did for the right reasons. She made her way to the executive floor to Harper Emery’s office. She asked her assistant if she was in. Casey then waited to be seen. She was then seen. Harper was surprised to see her and was even more surprised.

“It was me that gave Teresa the medication. She was aware of the risks but she still wished to have the treatment. I am aware that what I did was wrong but I would like to request an Ethics hearing to defend my actions.”

Harper thought on Casey’s words for a moment.

“Yes, many of us knew how much she resented being stuck in the hospital. But yes, what you did was wrong.”

“Which is why I am requesting an Ethics hearing.”

“I will grant you the request, it will not be easy though.”

“I know,” says Casey.

“You will continue to work until your preliminary hearing. I will notify you when that will be.”

“Thank you, Chief Emery.” Says Casey as she leaves.

She makes her way down to the main hospital and continues with her work.

A few hours later, Harper receives a call from Ethan, wanting to sort out exit paperwork. Harper stated she would do so but things were busy, stating that there was a rather large emergency and that Dr Valentine had requested an Ethics hearing.

“I can testify for Case… I mean Dr Valentine.” Stated Ethan.

“Absolutely not Ethan.” Said Harper. “Firstly you do not work here anymore. Secondly, I heard some of the rumours, I do not know for sure if they are true but I have seen you two interact and it certainly was not your usual interactions with staff, let alone interns. It is clear that you favoured her in some way. I can not let you do it.”

Ethan groans and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Fine Harper, I just hope she can get a fair trial.” He hangs up and lets out a frustrated scream. Alan walks out with a cup of coffee.

“Is everything alright Ethan?” He asks.

“No, it’s not. Casey has requested an ethics hearing and I know she will be hard pushed for a fair trial.” Said Ethan, frustrated.

“Furthermore, I am not allowed to testify for her!”

“Why not?” Asks Alan, confused. “You worked with her, you know how capable she is…”

“I was accused of favouring her and deep down I know Harper is right.” Said Ethan.

“I know you kept your relationship…”

“It was not a relationship dad, it was two consenting adults who chose to partake in activities.”

Alan took Ethan at his word but he knew his son was lying to himself. He had not seen Ethan this enamored with anyone in a long time. They sat and they had their coffee. Alan knew that there was a lot on his son's plate and he was saddened to hear about Naveen. He had met Naveen several times over the years and they had become quite good friends. He also knew that his son would have thrown everything into trying to cure him. He knew that losing Naveen would be a shock and he was not looking forward to that. He left Ethan alone to think.

Ethan knew he could not testify and it frustrated him. He knew Naveen’s spot on the committee had not being filled but he knew that some of the members were close to Declan Nash. He was again rueing letting Panacea into the hospital. Then he had a thought. He had the details for Louis, as well as the photo of Teresa standing out the front of Sacre Du Couer. He decided to email him. He also contacted Alma. He knew she was appreciative for what Casey tried to do for Delores and he knew she would testify for her. He did not know which other staff members would testify for her but he hoped what he could do in the background will give her a chance.

Casey had hear preliminary hearing. It was short, basically telling her that she was suspended. Declan was in the room. Looking smug. How she wanted to give him a piece of her mind but she refrained. She knew she had a fight on her hands. She was already buoyed that Alana Hudson had been touch already and mentioned she had been made aware of proceedings and would happily testify for her. She had already contacted Annie, her first patient as well as Shonda. She went home and went to start research for her trial.

Next day came and Casey needed a break. However she was struggling with what to do. It had been so long since she had so much free time. Then the door to her apartment opened with the gang including Bryce and Raf. They had brought food and drinks. She was surprised and Sienna said we are here to help and support you. After a few minutes there was a knock at the door. It was Zaid and Ines popping in to see how Casey was. They asked about who she had to testify for her. They then told her that a few doctors have a regular tee time at the country club and they should go and impress them. They go and get dressed for the part and make their way. They found their targets easy enough. Dr Calais, Dr Yannick and Dr Lazoya. They caught up with them and discussed their work and then Casey admitted that she was the one who administered the medication to Mrs Martinez. They were shocked and of course wanted to know why. Casey had the information that her and Bryce had found and she forwarded it to Dr Yannick. He was impressed with how thorough she had been. She also stated that Teresa was aware of the chances of it working or failing and that she still chose to try the treatment. Dr Lazoya stated that the hospital was at war over this situation. There was people who wanted Casey made an example of and then there were others of she did the wrong thing but it was for the right reasons. The trio agreed to testify for Casey at the hearing. They finish the round and head back home. Casey was asked by Sienna if she should ask Dr Ramsey to testify, given how fractious the hospital was over it. Casey said she would ask but she had not heard from Ethan for a few days. She was pleasantly surprised to receive a message from him when she reached out. She went to his house, somewhat apprehensive. Ethan greeted her at the door, looking disheveled. He asked if she had joined a cult. Casey said no, a country club to which Ethan said same thing. He offered her a scotch which she took. Casey came right out and asked if he would testify for her.

“I would if I could. I asked Harper and she forbade it stating I was biased and she was right. I am too biased.”

He so badly wanted to tell her that he was responsible for Alma testifying and how he had reached out to Luis Martinez but he was not sure if the plans would work. Casey however was frustrated.

“So what, are you giving up? Is what you told me about never giving up bullshit?”

“No it is not, it has been so fucking hard not being able to save another person that I give. Damn about.”

Then he kisses her hard and hungrily. He lifts Casey and she wraps her legs around his waist and he walks to his bedroom. Only breaking the kiss to remove Casey’s dress. He walks her over to the window and puts her against the glass. The coolness makes her shudder. He kisses down the column of her neck and lays waste to her bra. He whispers huskily in her ear

“The view is so much better when you are here.”

He kisses his way down to her core. He worships her at the altar of her sex and she succumbs to her climax screaming. They make their way to his bed, and he enters her and they have an emotionally intense session. They reach another high together. After awhile they lie intertwined in his sheets.

“What happens if I lose the ethics trial?”

“I do not know, we will figure it out, there is the question of if you can still practice.”

“That is true, what about you?”

“I have put in an expression of interest to work as part of a team with WHO. There is that pandemic down in Brazil.”

“That would be challenging.” Says Casey.

“It would but it is the mission and how Naveen found the team. Giving those who had nowhere to go access to medical care.”

Casey nods. So if you get selected you will go, so should we wait until you come back and decide then?”

“Well if we are not working together it does take that out of the equation.”

“True, we can not stay in an arrangement forever..”

“No but if you do make it through the hearing I will stay and find work in Boston.”

“Really?”

“Really, as I said before, there is not that major impediment of you working under me. What we get upto will not have any impediment on your career..”

He kisses her, sweetly and full of promise of what is to hopefully come. They go another two rounds before falling asleep.

Casey awakens first the next morning. She lets Ethan sleep and makes her way out of the apartment and back to her own. She stops off and grabs a coffee and makes her way to her apartment, only to receive a shock of seeing Landry there. He was also surprised to see her. I thought no one would be here.

“Yeah well, in case you were not aware I am suspended pending an ethics committee hearing.”

Landry deflates.

“Can’t you accept that you did the wrong thing?”

What is wrong about alerting a patient to an alternative treatment that had a chance of working? She knew the risks and chances of it working or not and chose to take her chances.”

“You needlessly took a mother from her family.”

“She resented what her existence had become. Are you telling me that you only want your patients to merely exist and not live fully?”

Landry looked affronted. Casey makes her way to the bedroom to get changed. She comes out and gets to building her case. She is interrupted by Landry unable to get his books into a box. She decided to help him. She packs the books in such a way that the weight is distributed evenly. Landry marvels at how he had packed them differently and still fit. Then Casey has a lightbulb moment.

“I think I know what is wrong with Dr Banerji.”

She messages the gang to meet her at the library. Landry looks confused.

“Dr Banerji has had an illness but what if it is two illnesses fighting and using his body as a battlefield.

The gang finally meet her at the library and are shocked and annoyed that Landry was there.

“It was his packing that gave me the thought.”

Everyone knuckles down and they realise that there must be a phage fighting an infection but they needed to find out what.

Landry stated that no one would suspect him and he went to get a testing kit as well as Naveen’s address. The gang was not happy with the turn of events, especially since he could just blab what has been happening but Casey said sadly he is our only choice.

He came back with the equipment and the address and they headed out. Casey hoping against hope that there was still a Naveen Banerji to save.

—-

Authors note: Not at all sorry for ending it there. Chapter 3 was a marathon and if I added the whole saving of Naveen it would have been another one and well I did not want to do that to you.

I will take a mini break, I have a Christmas fic that I want to get done before Christmas and then I will come back to this AU. It is also summer here in Australia which means summer holidays so I do lose some writing time so please be patient.

Tagging: @jerzwriter @jamespotterthefirst @genevievemd @cariantha @zealouscanonindeer @alj4890 @youlookappropriate @bex-la-get @crazy-loca-blog @a-crepusculo @socalwriterbee @liaromancewriter @potionsprefect @schnitzelbutterfingers @binny1985 @lucy-268 @tessa-liam

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

[mydemonsdrivealimo]

a collection of all bryce and jensens best work lunch dates (part 1)

so fun fact i write their little work lunch dates all the time (theres at least 5 in my giant doc of the little moments i write of them) and i figured you all might appreciate them as well, so here's part one!! there all very small but theyre easy to write so i enjoy them :)

book: open heart

pairing: bryce lahela x jensen valentine (m!mc)

rating: mature

word count: 338

~~~

Jensen caught movement out of the corner of his eye, looking over to see Bryce waving at him outside of the glass wall between the office and the hallway. Wasting no time, Bryce started gesturing between the two of them, followed by a limp wrist. Jensen already knew where it was going, but let him continue as Ethan droned on in the background, unaware of the spectacle going on behind him. 

Bryce followed up with his fingers nearly pinched together, before miming being cold. So far that meant “gay little iced” and was always followed up by “coffee,” but the gesture he made for drinking out of a cup was easy to misinterpret.

Pulling up his messages with Bryce, he quickly texted out, “im not really into temperature play but we can try it if you want. idk where we’re gonna get ice for a quickie tho.”

It took two seconds for Bryce to pull his watch up to read the message, and only another two for him to look back up, trying his hardest to fight off a smile with an unamused expression. Jensen couldn’t help but grin, Bryce flipping him off and getting a laugh out of him, too.

“Is there something funny about our patient’s ovarian cancer, Valentine?”

“No,” Jensen answered, still smiling, before looking over Ethan’s shoulder, Bryce finally opening the door.

“For the record, I don’t like you,” Bryce started, Jensen laughing, “But do you want to go get a coffee with me?”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Jensen said, grabbing his things.

“We’re working?” Ethan said, as if that was going to stop him.

Harper sighed from the other side of the table. “We’ve been on the same thing for an hour, we need a break anyway.”

Jensen, already halfway out the door, gave her a nod of agreement before following Bryce. 

Waiting for him to catch up, Bryce commented, “It is so not fair that people call me the annoying one.”

Jensen just gave him a little smile before continuing down the hall.

~~~

tagging: @choicesficwriterscreations @cariantha @kyra75 @lilyoffandoms @gutsfics @jerzwriter @inlocusmads

[openheartfanfics]

Newly Added Fics

Jul 22 - 28, 2023  

🎭 Angst  |  🦚 Angsty Fluff  |  🛸 AU  |  ☁ Fluff  |  ♥ NSFW  |  📚 Series  |  📷 Edit  |  📱 TextFic  |  Ⓜ Mature

BRYCE X F!MC

A Sweet Surprise - @storyofmychoices ☁

Bryce helps Olivia surprise her pediatric patients with a cool, sweet treat.

Losing Game - @peonierose 📚

[mini: wip] Bryce visits his dad in prison. How will that go? Will they reunite or will they stay apart forever? TW: Mental Health

Part 1

ETHAN X F!MC

Karma is... a Barbie Premiere - @jerzwriter ☁

Tobias scores tickets to the biggest event in Boston, and he & Casey each invite a friend. When they learn who each invited, the wheels start spinning. Ethan Ramsey x F!OC; Tobias Carrick x F!MC

Part 1 | Part 2

Last Shift - @liaromancewriter ☁

It’s Cassie’s last day as a resident, and she has plans to commemorate the occasion with Ethan.

One Night Stand - @takeharryandgo 📚🛸

[extended: wip] It turns out her random hookup wasn't quite so random.

Part 1

Sweet Start - @jerzwriter ☁

Ethan and Kaycee start her 32nd birthday off with much to look forward to. [Birthday]

What Could Have Been - @liaromancewriter 📚🎭

[extended: wip] When Ethan breaks his promise, Cassie is forced to accept they’re not inevitable after all.

CH 3: Move On. Begin Anew.

Wonderstruck - @jamespotterthefirst 📚🛸

[mini: wip] As a hopeful med student, she sneaks into a masquerade-themed gala hoping to meet one of the greatest minds of her time. However, fate has different plans.

Part 2

ETHAN X M!MC

Whatever You Want - @peonyblossom ☁

When Ethan tries to work on his day off, someone tries to distract him instead.

LOVE TRIANGLE

Mixed Signals - @alj4890 📚

[mini: wip] Dr. Tobias Carrick x F!MC. Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC. Dr. Bryce Lahela x F!MC. Set after the poison attack.

Chapter 1

War of Emotion - @coffeeheartaddict2 🎭Ⓜ

Ethan and Harper come to terms with Estelle’s news. Ethan has some decisions to make. Feat. Ethan Ramsey x Harper Emery, Ethan Ramsey F!OC Estelle Campion

MULTIPLE PAIRINGS

Each Bar Plays Our Song - @peonyblossom ☁

Ethan takes the role of protective boyfriend very seriously. Ethan Ramsey x F!OC; Ethan Ramsey x Harper Emery; Ethan Ramsey x Tobias Carrick; Ethan Ramsey x M!MC

TOBIAS X F!MC

Casey's 32nd Birthday - @jerzwriter 📷

So how did she spend her first birthday as a Mom? She chose to spend it alone with her husband and daughter. [Birthday]

Karma is... a Barbie Premiere - @jerzwriter ☁

Tobias scores tickets to the biggest event in Boston, and he & Casey each invite a friend. When they learn who each invited, the wheels start spinning. Ethan Ramsey x F!OC; Tobias Carrick x F!MC

Part 1 | Part 2

_

SUBMIT OPEN HEART FICS & WRITERS HERE

[koko-heads]

the polyamorous polyamification of polyamory

[jerzwriter]

Three Times

Book:                   Open Heart (Book 1/ Post Series)

Pairing:                Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Kaycee MacClennan)

Rating:                 Teen

Category:            Fluff

Summary:           Three times Ethan said I love you, and once he even used the words.  Based on a reader request for a drabble where Ethan tells Kaycee he loves her. I decided to do three little drabbles, each marking a different phase of their relationship and lives.

Words:                 1200

    @choices-november2022 – Day 20 – I love you

CHARACTERS BELONG TO PIXELBERRY STUDIOS.

Everything was surreal. Just this morning, Kaycee didn’t know what her future would hold; now, here she was, surrounded by friends and colleagues celebrating her victory. It was all a bit overwhelming if she were to be truthful, but these were the people who never left her side, and she was not about to turn them away.

“I’m not gonna lie,” Bryce stated dramatically. “When Luis Martinez walked in? I thought your goose was cooked.”

“I still can’t believe he was here to thank you!” Sienna breathed with relief.

“Kaycee, did you know he was coming?” Maureen asked.

“Hey, give her space,” Elijah insisted, “the important question is where are we going to celebrate!”

Although her head was spinning, she kept smiling no matter how fast the questions and statements came her way. Then, almost instinctively, she looked up toward the skylights in the atrium, and that’s where she spotted him.

Ethan looked so handsome. More relaxed than she had seen him in months. Leaning over the rail on the staircase landing, he wore a tender, almost ethereal look as he gazed her way. He nodded in response to her gentle smile and wave, then he turned to proceed up the stairs. There was no need to interrupt her celebration with friends, and unbeknownst to Kaycee, Harper was already waiting to speak to him in her office.

“Kaycee! I want to know why you didn’t deck Declan!” Another resident teased to a chorus of laughter, “I lost $20 on that!”

“Uh, sorry,” she blushed, “maybe next time… now if you’ll excuse me a moment….”

Without another word, she raced up the stairs attempting to catch an oblivious Ethan.

“Ethan! Ethan!” She hollered after him, catching his attention just before he stepped into a waiting elevator.

“Thank heaven I caught you,” she beamed as she neared. 

“I’m right here,” he smiled. “I assumed you’d want to be with your friends.”

“I do. But I’d also like to be with you. Ethan,” she whispered, gently touching his wrist. “Did, did you… were you responsible for Luis showing up?”

He didn’t answer at first, shifting uncomfortably as he looked past her shoulder, and that was all the confirmation that she needed.  

“I… I can’t believe you did that for me,” she spoke with a voice full of emotion.

“You acted in Tereasa’s best interest because you genuinely cared about her. You’re a talented doctor who will help countless people throughout your career. There was no way I would allow you to go down if I could help it.”

Her features softened, and she gulped as she squeezed his wrist tighter. “Things weren’t looking good, if he hadn’t come… I don’t know how to repay you. I… I’ll never forget this,” she smiled with tears glistening.

“If doing the right thing wasn’t reward enough, seeing the look on your face right now is.”

They stood in comfortable silence, staring a little too intensely and for too long, then Ethan broke the spell. 

“Well, uh. I’m sure your friends are waiting for you….”

“Oh, yeah. Will you come by Donahue’s to help celebrate?”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

~~~~~

Ethan was racing around their apartment, becoming increasingly frantic.

“Kaycee, do you know where the car keys are?”

“They were on the counter a moment ago!” She yelled from Emma’s room, emerging with their daughter in one arm and a stacked diaper bag in the other. 

It was the first day they would both be back to work since Emma was born, and everything that could go wrong did.

“Well, they’re not here anymore.”

“I’m sure they just…” she looked to the side and saw where they had fallen onto a stool. “Here you go,” she smiled brightly, even though Ethan could see how nervous she was in her eyes.

Reaching over, he caressed her cheek gently. “Everything is going to be fine, Kaycee. You know that, right?”

“Theoretically,” she chuckled. 

“Before you know it, the day will be over, and the three of us will be sitting on that couch, snuggled up together.”

Her shoulders dropped visibly as her tension released, a genuine smile on her face. “I can’t wait.”

Taking a few steps forward, he closed the distance between them, and held his wife and baby daughter in his arms. 

“It’s practically a miracle that this is my life, Kaycee. And it’s all because of you.”

“Ethan,” she demurred. “It’s not only….”

“Yes,” he said, silencing her with a gentle kiss. “It is, and I only hope you know how much I love you and how grateful I am to you. Every minute, of every day.”

“Ethan,” she cooed, embracing him tighter as Emma babbled in her arms. “I love you, too. And it will be all right because we’re doing this together.”

“Exactly,” he smiled. “Now, we probably should get going.”

“Yep, let’s get this day over with so we can get home to that couch.”  

Ethan smiled brightly, “There is nothing I want more.”

~~~~~ 

“Kaycee!” Ethan exclaimed as he entered the kitchen. “What are you doing?”

She turned around slowly, but not by design, wearing a sheepish expression when she finally met his eyes. Aging wasn’t always easy, and while they tended to be in good health, neither was quite what they used to be. But after Kaycee’s operation last week, the doctor insisted she take it easy, and Ethan stayed home to ensure she complied. But waking him just to get her a cup of coffee seemed silly, so she tried… even though she knew she shouldn’t.

“I just didn’t want to wake you, dear. I know you haven’t been sleeping well, and I just wanted….”

“Sweetheart, if you fall again, it could lead to irreparable damage. You know that even if Dr. Sweeney hadn’t gone out of his way to emphasize it.”

“Ethan,” she sighed. “I just hate being a burden, being a bother….”

“A burden?” he challenged. “A bother? Do you think you could ever be either of those things to me?”

“I don’t know,” she smiled, “you always said I was a colossal pain in the ass.”

“And I meant it,” he grinned. “But you’re my colossal pain in the ass, and it will never be a burden to care for you. It’s a privilege. Now, let’s get you back to bed, and then I’ll happily make you a cup of coffee. But no more stunts like this young lady, do you understand?”

“Young lady,” she chuckled, “that ship sailed a long time ago, I’m afraid.”

“Well, you’ll always be younger than me. So young lady it is. Now, can we get you back into bed? Or are you going to make this old man carry you?”

“No,” she smiled, taking his arm. “I wouldn’t want to do that.”

“Good, because we don’t need poor Emma coming here and finding both of us on the floor!”

“Oh, heaven forbid!” Kasey laughed as they returned slowly down the hall.

“But it would have been your fault,” he chided.

“It would not; you’re the one who insisted on carrying me,” Casey’s voice trailed. 

“And you’re the one who wasn’t following the doctor’s orders.”

“We’re squabbling,” she laughed. 

“I know. I’m happy to see you feeling better.”

Permatags: @a-crepusculo @aishwarya26 @animesuck3r @annfg8 @annoyingmillenialnewbie @binny1985 @bluebelle08 @bluerosesbloom @cariantha @coffeeheartaddict2 @crazy-loca-blog @different4strawberry @differenttyphoonwerewolf @doriopenheart @fayeswiftie @forallthatitsworth @genevievemd @hopelessromantic1352 @inlocusmads @jamespotterthefirst @jennieausten @kingliam2019 @liaromancewriter @lucy-268 @mainstreetreader @mysticalgalaxysstuff @onikalover @openheartforeverinmyheart @peonierose @potionsprefect @rookiemartin @secretaryunpaid @socalwriterbee @tessa-liam @toadfrog26 @trappedinfanfiction @youlookappropriate @zahrachoices @jerzwriter-reblogs-asks

[lilyoffandoms]

To all the writers that are participating in this month’s event, thank you!! I’m so grateful for your support, not only for myself but for other writers in this fandom. Thank you for taking the chance on us, each and every time you write and each time you post. Thank you for sharing your stories and writing them as only you can tell them 💕

I decided to share all the drabbles I wrote now, so I can be freed up to read, comment, and reblog your stories!

For @aallotarenunelma

ID Drabble (Cas &/x Saini)

For @coffeeheartaddict2

Crimes Drabble (Trystan x Aaliyah)

For @jerzwriter

When Husbands Become Prey (Tobias x Casey, Bryce x Olivia, Ethan x Merida)

For @karahalloway

TRR Drabble (Drake x Harper)

For @ladylamrian

Crimes/Nightbound Crossover Drabble (Nik x Alex, Trystan x Gabriel)

For @mydemonsdrivealimo

Open Heart Drabble (Bryce x Jensen)

For @peonyblossom

Crimes Drabble (Trystan x Jenna)

For @petiteboheme

TRR Drabble (Drake x Ava)

For @storyofmychoices

Blades Drabble (Mal x Daenarya, Tyril x Maiele)

For @tessa-liam

TRR AU Drabble (Liam x Riley)

For @trappedinfanfiction

Crimes Drabble (Trystan x Sofia)

[cariantha]

Hunger Pains (PG-13 Version)

Book: Open Heart, Post-Series Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Sawyer Brooks) Rating: Teen Warning: Language; Pregnancy; Sexual Situation Category: Fluff; Halloween Word count: 2.2K Summary: Sawyer is in a bad mood and Ethan attempts to call her down.

Prompts: 🫦From Anon: Can I get a fic with Ethan giving MC a love bite or hickey? ☀️From @peonierose: Ethan & Sawyer + “sunshine” 🍬From @jerzwriter: "Actually, I like candy corn!"

Events: 🎃For @choicesoctober event: Costume / Halloween / Vampire / Meme 🥰For @choicesprompts Flufftober 2023 event: I want to take care of you.

A/N: The original🔥spicy🔥version of this fic, can be found here.

“Mr. Cox. An appropriate name for such a dick,” Sawyer thought to herself, blood boiling as she exited Room 513. 

The patient being cared for inside could easily steal the title of “Biggest PITA” away from the infamous Nigel Platt. And only making matters worse, her consultation had been interrupted multiple times by a cocky intern eager to show off. 

Once the door closed behind her, she spun on Dr. Perkins. 

“How many times have we told you not to interrupt when your resident or attending is speaking with a patient? If you do that again, I’ll make sure you are written up.”

Sawyer strode to the nearby nurses’ station to update Mr. Cox’s chart. The obstinate intern followed. 

“How am I supposed to learn anything around here if I’m not allowed to ask questions?” he argued.

“You start by shutting the hell up and listening. Had you done that in the first place, we 

wouldn’t be standing here having this conversation. If you were really trying to understand something back there, you would have directed your questions to me. Instead you attempted to conduct a medical history interview, on an extremely agitated patient, minutes before he goes to surgery,” she scolded. 

“This is–”

Her patience wearing thin, Sawyer spoke over him. “Jaaackie, get Dr. Know-It-All away from me before I go all Ramsey on his ass,” she demanded through gritted teeth. 

Jackie, having caught the tail end of the exchange, looked up from her tablet. 

“I think you just did,” she answered, “...and Perkins, the patient in 506 needs a new catheter. Now.”

“But that’s not even my pati-” he started to complain.

With one harsh look from the Chief Resident, Dr. Perkins finally tucked his tail between his legs and sulked down the hall.

"You're breathing fire today," Jackie quipped as she rounded the desk to leave.

Sawyer ignored her and continued typing furiously on her tablet.

Down the hall, Jackie and Bryce traded places getting on and off the elevator.

“Hey, have you seen Brooks? I mean Ramsey. Brooks-Ramsey?” Bryce guessed, not sure what to call his friend since she and Ethan surprised everyone by eloping a couple weeks ago. 

Jackie pointed in the direction of the nurses’ desk. “I hope you brought snacks. She’s in a mood again,” she warned as the steel doors closed between them.

A minute later, Bryce slunk next to Sawyer, bumping shoulders to get her attention.

“Finally. What took you so long?” Sawyer rebuked, shoving the tablet towards him. “Here, take this guy away. And while you have his head open, feel free to poke the part of his brain that disables his speech.”

“Well, aren’t you a pocketful of sunshine this morning,” he teased.

“After a few minutes with this asshole and you’ll understand why,” she said, storming off.

“Annnd, Dr. Ramsey it is,” he decided. 

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

Shortly thereafter, Sawyer sat in the diagnostics office and stewed in silence as the team meeting ran over schedule. Her annoyance grew more intense with each passing minute as Ethan and Harper debated, and Tobias egged them on for his own amusement. No longer able to take it, she interrupted. 

“Do you need me? Because, if not, I have patients who do.” 

Her three colleagues snapped their heads in her direction, surprised by the bite in her tone. With raised eyebrows, she looked at the team leader and challenged him to respond. 

Ethan cleared his throat. “Uh, let’s see how the labs come back and continue this discussion when we have more information.” 

Harper and Tobias quickly got out of Dodge as Sawyer stacked her notes and gathered her things. When she stood to follow, Ethan reached for her hand and held her back.

“Hey, what’s wrong? What’s got you so wound up?”

She exhaled deeply, his touch instantly calming her.

“I’m sorry.” Frustrated tears welled in her witch-green eyes. “I'm super cranky. These third-trimester hormones are no joke. My mood the last few days has been…” 

A single teardrop fell down her cheek.

“Come here,” he urged, pulling her into his lap. “It’s been, what?” 

“It’s either been hangry or hornery or both,” she pouted and sagged her shoulders.

Cracking a smile at her dramatics, “I know what ‘hangry’ is, but ‘hornery?’”

“Horny and ornery.”

With a shake of his head, Ethan caressed her swollen belly. “So, what I hear you saying is you’re irritable because you're either hungry or horny…”

“Right now, it’s both,” she interjected, her fingers seductively dancing up his chest.

“And the cure for this condition is to either feed you … or have my way with you?”

“Look, I’m not saying food and sex would solve all my problems, but it would sure help me calm the hell down,” she admitted with a coquettish grin.

“Well, as much as I’d like to help you satisfy your hunger pains, all I can offer right now is this.” 

Ethan reached for the bowl of Halloween candy on the conference table.

“Boo,” she scowled playfully. Sawyer stood and sifted through the options, “I’ll take the candy corn off your hands and leave the chocolates for you. I know they’re your favorite.”

“Actually, I like candy corn,” he said, ripping a small package open with his teeth and pouring them all into his mouth.

“Seriously?” she asked, surprised.

“My dad loves them. We always had a bowl out during the season. I used to push them up on my canines when I was a kid and pretend I was Dracula.”

“Aw, cute. Well, if that’s true, then I’ll take some of these too,” she reached back into the bowl and stuffed her pockets. “Supposedly, chocolate is a good substitute for sex. Feed two birds with one scone.” 

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

A couple hours later, Sawyer was down at the lab demanding the results for one of her patients.

“What do you mean it’s going to be another four to six hours? I ordered these tests yesterday!” 

Her raised voice began to draw the attention of others, including her indirect supervisor. Ethan was just finishing a consultation with the hospital’s lead hematologist, when he heard the uproar. 

The lab assistant snapped back. “Look, lady, we’re doing the best we can. The tech will run the test as soon as he’s back from lunch.”

“Lady?! Do you see this badge? That’s Dr. Brooks to you.” 

Sawyer spewed red hot anger as she spun on her heels. From several feet away, Ethan could practically feel the heat radiating from her. Her neck and cheeks were crimsoned and her fists clenched at her sides. 

“That’s enough,” he admonished, taking Sawyer by the wrist and swiftly pulling her into a familiar and dark supply closet.

Ethan loomed over her as he backed her into a corner.  

“I know… I’m sorry,” she apologized. Sad cat-like eyes pleading for forgiveness. 

“This kind of stress isn’t good for you or the baby,” he advised. “This is serious, Sawyer. You leave me no choice but to help you calm down.” The corner of his mouth began to turn up in a sly grin, as he ran his hand over her hair. 

“Oh, thank god,” she sighed, crashing into his lips.

“We’ll…have to be…quick…and quiet,” he murmured between desperate kisses.

For several minutes Ethan used his hands and lips to lavish his new bride. As their activities became more frenzied, more intimate, Sawyer couldn’t help the moan that escaped her lips. 

“Ohhhh!”

“Shhhh, baby,” he breathed into her ear.

“I’m close…cover…my mouth,” she panted as she began to tremble.

Sawyer’s whole body shuddered and she moaned her satisfaction into Ethan’s hand. The sensations provoked his own release, and to keep himself quiet, he clamped his mouth down on Sawyer’s neck. Hard.

To avoid getting caught, they didn't spend much time basking in the afterglow. After a loving kiss from her husband, Sawyer peeked into the hallway to see if the coast was clear. 

“Hold on…it’s Wen,” she whispered, holding up a hand to halt him. 

When Dr. Wen disappeared around a corner, they exited the supply closet.

“Do you think she heard us?” 

“If she did, I’m sure she assumed it was only one of the ghosts that she believes haunts these halls,” Ethan chuckled. “The more important question is, are you feeling better?”

“Much better, thank you.”

“Well, let’s make doubly sure and head up to the cafeteria for some lunch.”

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

Later that night, at home and in the shower, Ethan pushed wet hair away from Sawyer's neck and discovered the frightful bruising.

“Oh, Soe, I’m sorry,” he expressed, carefully skimming his fingers over the bite mark. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Sawyer touched the tender spot and moved around him to see her reflection in his shaving mirror. 

“Oh my gosh!” she laughed as she traced her fingers over the imprints of his teeth. “I married a freakin’ vampire!” 

“I’m sorry. But, hey,” he innocently smiled back in the mirror, “...only a vampire can love you forever.”

He wrapped his arms around her and buried his face into her neck. “Mwahahaha,” he snarled at her ear, before placing a delicate, healing kiss to the love bite.

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

The next day, the newlyweds arrived at work hand in hand and walked toward the attendings’ locker room. Pausing just outside the door, Sawyer turned to face her husband. 

“Hey, just a reminder I volunteered to help in the clinic this morning. Carrick said he would do rounds for me.”

“I remembered,” Ethan said, bending down to give Sawyer a quick but loving kiss on the lips. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. I’ll see you later,” she returned, reluctantly letting go of his hand.

Stepping into the locker room, she spotted a familiar face. Well, sort of. 

“Whoa, that looks soooo good, Elijah. Gross, but so realistic,” Sawyer awed. 

“Thanks! Those of us in the research department agreed to dress up like lab experiments gone wrong.”

“Well, mission accomplished. And, Happy Halloween, by the way. I know it’s your favorite day of the year.” 

As Elijah excitedly talked about his zombie character - which of course was inspired by a new John Carpenter video game - Sawyer tugged on her white coat and checked her reflection in the mirror. 

The bruising on her neck was much more prominent the day after and under the harsh fluorescent lighting of the hospital. She tried to adjust her hair and fix the collar of her jacket, but it was no use. She dug through her bag searching for her makeup case, quickly realizing she left it at home.

“Shit,” she thought to herself. 

“Aren’t you dressing up this year?” 

Elijah’s question brought her back to the conversation, and an idea popped into her head. 

“About that…do you have any more fake blood?”

“Yeah, there’s a tube in my locker. Help yourself,” he offered on his way out.

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

Down in the free clinic, Sawyer examined a very inquisitive eight-year old who noticed the bite mark and the two drips of dried blood on her neck. 

“Say ‘ahhhh!’” she instructed, using a tongue depressor to check the back of his throat. “Good, no swelling back there.” 

“Doctor! Did you get bit by a vampire?” 

“I’m afraid, I did,” she admitted, putting on a bit of an act.

“Was it Dracula?”

“That’s still up for debate,” she laughed to herself, picturing little boy Ethan with candy corn fangs.

“Did it hurt?”

“Uh-uh.” 

“Did he suck your blood?”

“Justin, for goodness sake,” his mother chided and rolled her eyes.

“It’s fine,” Sawyer waved her off.

“Did he make you into a vampire too?”

“No,” turning her back to the young patient and facing his mother, she muttered, “...he just got me pregnant.” The patient’s mother cackled out loud.

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

That afternoon, Sawyer was on the fifth floor to check on a patient, when she spotted Ethan stepping into the hallway with Esme and her intern. When they were safely out of the patient’s earshot, he wheeled around on the intern and launched into a stern, and familiar, lecture. 

“...It doesn’t matter that you’re still learning…Whether this man lives or dies is on you…There is no room for mistakes…”

When he was done with his tirade, Ethan marched over to the nurses’ station and began tapping away on an iPad. 

“Don’t sweat him. He’s all bark and no bite. Isn’t that right, Dr. Brooks?” Esme asked as Sawyer approached the scene. 

Mrs. Ramsey shook her head vehemently. “Oh, no,” she spoke loud enough for Ethan to hear, “he bites alright.” When he looked up with a raised eyebrow, she winked and kept walking. 

A couple minutes later, Ethan’s phone pinged with a text notification.

Tag List: @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics