mack

in love with some aviators

[puckingcuckbunny]

🜼 — 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐕𝐘

thank you @pinkyups for the gif <3

A soft, slow-burn romcom about a girl who makes everything feel alive, a boy who fixes things because it is easier than saying how he feels, and the cherry-red Chevy that started it all.

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 : 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭! 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐧'𝐭! 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 🜼

𝟎𝟏 . 𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐂𝐊

release date : 5/06/2026 ; word count : 4,3 k

𝟎𝟐 . 𝐌𝐄𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐂 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐒

release date : 6/06/2026 ; word count : 11,6k

𝟎𝟑 . 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐎

release date : tbd ; word count : N/A

𝟎𝟒 . 𝐏𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐒𝐒

release date : tbd ; word count : N/A

𝟎𝟓 . 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐈𝐂𝐄 𝐀𝐃𝐕𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐄

release date : tbd ; word count : N/A

𝟎𝟔 . 𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐃𝐒, 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐒 & 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐏

release date : tbd ; word count : N/A

𝟎𝟕 . 𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐂𝐇 𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓

release date : tbd ; word count : N/A

𝟎𝟖 . 𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐈𝐍, 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆

release date : tbd ; word count : N/A

𝟎𝟗 . 𝐄𝐋𝐌𝐖𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊

release date : tbd ; word count : N/A

𝟏𝟎 . 𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐮𝐬 : 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝟏𝟏 . 𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐮𝐬 : 𝐜𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐲𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐦

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 : @harls-sturn, @https-dandelion, @watergirl85, @brianna28483, @irishone11, @anyasthoughts, @kmc1989, @norrisidous, @glorveina, @zophiathefirst, @outpostsworld, @yomamaslays4lyfe, @babblegumgirl101, @itmekelpy, @strengthandstay, @run-for-the-hills, @eviemae5864, @tabisswag, @reveries01, @gojodaddy1029 @lukeyoumeanit, @ashloveshockey, @fandom-princess-forevermore @thewrxith05 @jemimah-b99, @themarvelousbee, @roisebear, @bootyliciousbutterfly, @clarittys, @mossmydarling, @ilovejohnny-knoxville, @yttafahtiwyvas, @gobiiiyob

[itstheartofloving]

Something, Somehow, Someday | Belmont Cameli☆ smau & irl au

Genre

slow burn, co-stars to lovers, friends to lovers, he fell first, she fell hard, he loved the loudest, HEALTHY COMMUNICATION!

(FC for y/n will be Laura Harrier along with Alisha Boe and various pictures on Pinterest.)

Pairing

belmont cameli x oc!costar!reader

Media Coverage

The social media of our lovely cast!

More fun things to come!

Synopsis

Y/n is a nepo baby in every sense of the word, something the media has never let her forget. Born into a legacy, Y/n grew up surrounded by fashion archives, red carpets, film sets, and some of the most influential names in entertainment. As the daughter of Victoria Selena Cavalli, one of fashion's most iconic household names, and the late Marcus Jones, she inherited two worlds that were larger than life.  To the public, she is the definition of Hollywood royalty, but they don’t quite see beyond the persona she has built for herself, missing the humble, gracious girl who has pushed herself to a limit that can no longer be defined. Instead, they have labeled her as just another nepo baby who has been handed it all on a silver platter, when in reality, she is just a girl who inherited the world before she was old enough to understand it.  As her life in the spotlight takes an unexpected turn into a season no one is ever truly prepared for, she accepts a role many believe could be a career regression. In reality, it becomes the role that connects with her more than anything she has done before. Raw, complicated emotions; maybe because, for the first time, she no longer has to pretend she is perfectly put together. She never imagined herself playing a role in a book that she had read just for the fun of it, even if it meant playing a character that never quite existed. She never expected that playing Mallory Hayes would heal her in a way that was unconventional. What she doesn't expect is to find herself falling for her co-star, something she swore she would never do. Especially not someone like Belmont Cameli: a man who sees through every carefully built wall she's spent years hiding behind. Someone who makes her realize that safety was never supposed to feel like confinement.  Belmont never expected to fall for the girl Hollywood had labeled as closed off after the sudden death of her father, but somewhere along the way, he began to understand that Y/n Jones was never distant; she was just a girl who learned how to perform before she allowed herself to heal.

Warnings:

Parental loss, angst, discussion of loss, trauma, communication, survivor's guilt, alcohol consumption, nudity, grief, panic attacks, ED

About Y/n Jones

the women behind the headline!

SOMETHING, SOMEHOW, SOMEDAY

☆ The pilot

☆ episode 1

☆episode 2

☆ episode 3

☆ episode 4

☆ episode 5

☆ episode 6

☆ episode 7

☆ episode 8

☆ episode 9

☆ episode 10

This all is going to take place after this season has already come out !

DIRECTORS' COMMENTARY

Hi guys, I’m honestly really excited for this series! It honestly stemmed from a dream and some life experiences as well, so this is purely self-indulgent in the best way possible. I’ve been sitting on this idea since they announced Belmont as Garrett, so I’m truly so excited to share it. The name of the series is from Rolemodels' song Something, Somewhere, Someday

First off, my layout is very largely inspired by @calumsargwife , @astridwisp , @maverist

This series explores grief, healing, and everything in between that we don’t often see others navigating, as well as what it means to find safety amongst people when you have spent a majority of that time protecting yourself. While at its core it is a romance, it is also a story about growth, loss, and allowing people into that.

Thank you for supporting me and my little corner of the internet; I cannot wait for you to experience this story with me!

Also don’t be afraid to comment, I love talking to you all it makes my heart happy!

xo,

Abbie🌺

[just-icing]

'A SERIES OF UNREAL EVENTS' MASTERLIST, m. rempe

pairing: best friend's younger brother!matt rempe x fem!reader

cw: EVENTUAL SMUT, swearing, fake dating trope, tbd

synopsis: living alone in new york as a girl in your mid-late 20s means your summers are filled with all sorts of invitations: weddings, baby showers, engagement parties, and reunions. unfortunately, showing up to the majority of these events as your single self is blatant social suicide--even if that idea may be a little irrational and childish. luckily for you, your best friend, alley, always has a plan. only downside? it includes her stupid younger brother...

PART 1: THE SISTER, THE BROTHER, AND THE PLAN OF A LIFETIME

⤷ in which a phone call with alley somehow ends with her brother agreeing to be your hot summer date.

PART 2: TBD

PART 3: TBD

PART 4: TBD

[puckability]

Game on

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

William Nylander x Fem!reader

You're grabbing coffee and apartment hunting with your best friend a month before you move up to Toronto, Willy overhears you calling him insufferable. Game on.

warnings - use of y/n, sarcastic reader (when do i ever write anything else), pre marner trade

a/n - i've been wanting to write something for Willy for ages, so this will be a few parts, and maybe a bit of smau if i can work out how to do it :')

You're in Toronto visiting your bestie and scoping out possible apartments to rent together after your most recent job offer.

You'd worked hard to get the job at Schuster and Associates, weeks of interviews and zoom calls before finally the offer landed in your inbox the week prior.

Your best friend screamed when you told her, overjoyed that you'd finally be reunited after you'd both moved away from college. It felt like the right kind of change too. Sure, the job was exciting and finally in a space where you'd be taken seriously, but at twenty seven, you were ready to move away from the west coast, there wasn't anything left for you there now your parents were taking their long awaited retirement world tour.

So you'd booked a flight up to Toronto to see Macy, and between touring apartments and checking out the local sights to familiarize yourself with the place, she had insisted on taking you to her favourite coffee shop.

And that's where it happens.

The queue is out the door, but she insists it's worth it, so you entertain her rambling about the NHL team she's working for.

"I'm just saying, I think it's cute that they all have to vote on the player with the best style when half of them dress like they aren't on multimillion dollar contracts," you muse as you scan the menu.

"They vote on other stuff, but like Willy does have the best style in the league, there's no question about it." She replies, ignoring your dig at the overgrown toddlers she corals into social media events day in day out.

"I'm not disagreeing with you, but it's hardly a competition is it? I'm convinced they don't have enough functioning brain cells to dress themselves half the time," you reply.

And look, it's not that you hate all hockey players, but in your experience, most of them are dumber than a box of rocks about anything other than their sport, and some of them, not even that.

"They're not all bad," she tries.

You eye her with a knowing look.

"Yeah okay I know, I'm biased. But my guys are pretty decent on the whole," you acquiesce, smiling at her.

This was you two to a T. She was your sunshine girl and you were—well, whatever the opposite of that was while apparently still being the love of her life.

Grumpy, argumentative and difficult, was how you'd sometimes been described by peers and family. But then that's probably why you became a lawyer.

"Okay, show me a picture of the best dressed of the NHL then, if you insist he's not such a bad guy, maybe I can even be convinced to come watch them do some pirouettes," she giggles next to you, bringing up the Leafs Instagram page and scrolling until she finds the one she's looking for.

"Here! Okay, so this is obviously just from game days and stuff but you like you have to admit he knows his way around a wardrobe,"

And well, she's not wrong.

"Yeah okay, I'll give you that he's well dressed, but he also looks like he knows how hot he is, and I really hate for a man to know that about himself, it makes them insufferable."

A throat clears behind you.

"Do you think I'm insufferable Mitchy?"

Macy turns, her unlocked phone still in hand and stares in mortification at Willy and Mitch who apparently, have been standing behind you this entire time.

"You are kind of insufferable sometimes act—"

Willy slaps Mitch's shoulder in mock outrage before flashing you a grin.

"Uhm—Hi guys, we most definitely were not talking about you and it would be so so cool of you both to forget you even saw me in the wild please and thank you," Macy squeaks, looking up at you with apple red cheeks.

You can't help the laugh, made worse by the fact you know you shouldn't be, until your hand is fully covering your mouth and you're trying very hard not to snort in front of the two very attractive men.

"Hi Macy, it's nice to see you too. Who's your friend?" Willy asks with a smirk, you can tell he's having far too much fun embarrassing your best friend, and if it weren't for the way she talked about her job and how kind the players were to her, you'd feel a little chippy about it.

Grumpy and argumentative you may be. Dumb, you are not. So you don't let out the vicious little snark resting on the tip of your tongue and instead decide to take the brunt of the humiliation.

"Y/N," you hold out your hand, "nice to meet you."

"William Nylander," he shakes your hand, his grip lingering a little longer than what's normal before you pull your hand back.

"I know who you are," you reply.

"Aren't you lucky?"

"Ego matches the wardrobe I see,"

Macy and Mitch are watching the entire exchange in silence.

Willy is laughing to himself at your comment, his eyes lit up like he's having a raucous old time verbally sparring with you.

"Aren't you the one who said I was hot a few minutes ago?"

"A, you have no evidence of that, and B, even if you did, I'd have it thrown out because I'm right, you're being insufferable about it already." You smile like a cat that's got the cream.

Running circles around people is what you do, it's also your most beloved form of flirting.

"Don't tell me you're a lawyer, she's not a lawyer is she?" Willy looks at Macy and your best friend giggles.

"Afraid so, she's really fucking good at it too," Macy stands a little taller now the attention is off her.

Willy huffs a little but never drops the grin on his face, eyes meeting Mitch's briefly, a silent conversation happening before the line finally shuffles forward until you're all stood inside the little cafe.

"So ladies, what'll you have?" Willy says as you finally make your way to the counter, ordering some frivolous coffee that makes your teeth hurt with the amount of sugar syrup.

"Long black, dash of cold milk," you reply, glancing down at the time as the others order their drinks.

"That the only thing you're allowed to order once you leave law school?" he asks, he's needling you and you know it, but you're game because well, he's hot and you'll never see him again.

"Your coach know about all that sugar you're consuming?"

"You going to tell him?"

"I might—"

"She won't," Macy chimes in from the other side of the bar where you're waiting for your drinks.

"I might though," Mitch laughs, and it breaks the brewing tension between you and Willy.

Macy looks at you then, teeth sunk into her bottom lip, one eyebrow raised before flicking her eyes to Willy and then back to you.

"Well boys, we've got apartments to view, and I'm assuming you've got..golf to play? So we'll be seeing you," you say, swiping your coffee from where the barrister placed it on the bar and making your way outside.

"We'll be seeing the lovely Macy at the rink, when will we be seeing you?"

"You?" you gesture to Willy.

"Never." And that time you can't stop the cackle you let out as you spin on your heel, heading in the direction of downtown, Macy giggling behind you.

One month later you're all moved in with Macy, a beautiful downtown apartment with enough space for both of you plus the cat that appeared on the fire escape the night you started unpacking.

You're one week into your job when your boss tells you you're heading to Scotiabank Arena to start transitioning to in house counsel for the Toronto Maple Leafs.

Perhaps that 'never' had been a little premature.

[sleepysidcros]

You Missed My Heart

Andrei Svechnikov x singer reader

smau + written (+ blurbs & hcs)

Summary: Getting cheated on is terrible by itself, getting cheated on publicly is worse. Only 1 week after the 1 year mark of dating, Quinn Hughes is spotted at a dinner with another woman. The whole world finds out you're being cheated on the same time you do.

The break-up album went platinum, maybe in a certain Russian hockey player's playlist too. A mention in an interview can bloom into much more when you're heartbroken.

Content warnings: swearing, cheating, angst, eventual smut + more

PART 1: Norman Fucking Rockwell

written + smau

PART 2: Don't Smile

smau

PART 3: Say It Right (COMING 4/30)

[rr-after-dark]

Unavoidable - Dr. Brendon “The Shark” Park x Reader

Chapter One: Mulled Wine

Series Summary: The moment you meet Dr. Brendon Park, your entire world changes. He's your mate. The person you're destined to be with. But, god, does he have to be such an asshole all the time? Really, does he?

Chapter Summary: You've known that harsh, frustrating Dr. Park is your fated mate for months, a fact you've been able to keep to yourself thanks to your suppressants. Then he shows you a rare moment of human kindness. And catches your scent. And things feel very, very different.

Tags/Notes: omegaverse, alpha!park, omega!reader, fated mates, kind of enemies to lovers, trinity santos is a meddler, everyone is confused about their feelings

Content: canon-typical medical content, park is an ass (not to reader)

A/N: thank you to do the anon who dropped several fated mates asks when i requested park omegaverse ideas! ill be taking a variety of your thoughts for this series so thank you very much. oops writing another series when i have ten unfinished ones ahaha!!! nothing's real

Word Count: 4.4k

Six months ago, your world stopped in the middle of the Pitt during a random Tuesday shift.

You’d joined the ED only a few weeks prior, a transfer from the VA after Jack Abbot, who’d been your patient, recommended you join him at his hospital. He said it was not only a better environment for omegas but that you’d have more opportunities to find your niche during your residency. You wanted to find a surgical fellowship after your residency, and putting in hours in an emergency department would let you log some OR time if you played your cards right.

That day, you'd helped triage the worst broken femur you’d ever seen from an insane football injury and paged for an ortho consult. Dr. Brendon Park came downstairs within minutes; his sub-specialty in sports injuries had him as the first line of defense.

When he pushed through the door, a thick cloud of clove and amber filled your nostrils.

Your pupils dilated. Heat bloomed in your cheeks, your chest, your stomach, your everywhere. Yes, everywhere. The world reoriented and you knew something for certain for the first time in your life: Brendon Park is your mate. Fated. Something rare and special and sacred, even among medical professionals who write it off as a medical phenomenon.

This was supposed to be the most important moment of your entire life. A moment that makes an omega’s knees weak and their world restart for the better. The two of you were supposed to leave the room enamored with each other, ready to explore the possibilities of your life together.

There were two problems with this new reality of yours.

You had been on scent blockers for nearly a decade, which made you unrecognizable to him, and,

Dr. Brendon Park is a big, huge, massive, planetary fucking asshole

“He’s the most stereotypical alpha I’ve ever had the displeasure of encountering. Always peacocking around scenting all over everybody and grinding to be ‘The Top-Rated Orthopedic Surgeon on the East Coast Three Years Running,’” Trinity sneers, doing a decent impression of him as she walks out of yet another awful consult with Park the Shark, snapping off her gloves and punting them in the trash. “You know I had a dream about clocking him in the jaw the other night after we had to work on that hand amputation together?”

Next to you, Whitaker says, sounding almost wistful, “You should try it for all of us omegas who can’t stand him. At least it would give us some entertainment.”

You nod along as you peck away at your chart. It’s a major point of frustration for you; Park is so annoying you want to swat him like a fly, but something in your biology stops you from bad-mouthing him when you can still smell him lingering in the ED. You hate the fact that you get tongue-tied whenever he comes up, the thought of his autumnal scent like a warm, addictive blanket around your shoulders.

Trinity leans over the desk and waves her hand in your face. “Earth to cherry,” she teases, using the nickname based on your scent the way affectionate alphas do to their omega friends, “I’m being mean about Park; don’t you want to pile on while I’m still pissed?”

“Um, not today,” you try weakly, catching Park’s bulky frame talking with Robby in the corner of your eye. “I need to, ah, to get to-” Thankfully, an ambulance rolls into the bay before you have to come up with some lame excuse to duck out of the conversation and away from Park’s smell. You nod toward it and say, “That’s my ride. See you later, guys.”

As you jog over to the EMTs as they unload a crying, embarrassed, upset teenage boy, Park watches you carefully, his subconscious making sure you get to your destination safely. He’s always liked you more than the other ED residents who always find some way to piss him off. The only doctor he fully respects down in this hellhole is Abbot and Abbot chose you personally, which automatically gave you some cred in Park’s mind, but it’s more than that. It’s something in the way you speak, maybe, or how you hold yourself around patients. He can’t quite place his thumb on it, but you’re just better than the rest of your class.

After an hour of waiting on imaging and taking a thorough history for the teenage athlete with his shattered knee, you reluctantly page for an orthopedic surgery consult – and brace yourself when it’s Park who returns it right away. You half-jokingly warn the family, “The surgeon who’s coming down gets called Shark by everyone in the emergency department, but don’t let his whole thing scare you. He’s one of the best sports medicine surgeons on the eastern seaboard; you’ll be in great hands.”

Your patient’s mom smiles and gives your forearm a gentle touch. “Thank you, doctor. I’m glad to hear that.”

As usual, Park walks into the room already talking. “Saw you bringing in a kid from an ambulance earlier; what have we got going on here?”

“This is Franklin Murray, but he goes by Frankie.” You give the kid a warm, affirming smile as he stares nervously at the hulking doctor who’s just come in, his alpha scent stinking up the room and making all of you feel small, even Garcia as she stands in the corner. “Fifteen, male, no secondary sex yet. He came to the ED today via ambulance with both parents showing a traumatic fracture to the patella with ACL and meniscus involvement due to an accident at a track meet. After thorough evaluation, I’m guessing the next course of-”

“You’re guessing?” Park grunts as he tugs on his gloves and starts to roughly maneuver the poor kid’s swollen knee around. Through Frankie’s winces and yelps, Park chastises you, “I don’t like the sound of that. Try again.”

You bite your tongue and grimace. “The likely course of treatment would be either open reduction and internal fixation or arthroscopic repair of the tendons with stabilization of the kneecap, but I’m not the orthopedic surgeon here, thus the consult.”

“Good work on these fixes,” he murmurs, almost under his breath, like he doesn't want to give you any praise. But it makes your traitorous heart flutter anyway. Park shakes his head out and snatches the X-Ray machine over, flipping through the scans with that familiar intensity on his face. You can always imagine, far too clearly for your ongoing sanity, what it would feel like to be on the receiving end of a look like that while he drills into you, reckless and sweating, giving you exactly what you need. It’s exhausting. While you swallow hard and avert your eyes, Park gives Frankie a stern expression and informs him, “Kid, you’re not gonna be running on this leg anymore. Time to buckle down on your school work to diversify your options.”

Your mouth falls open as Mrs. Murray chokes out, “Are you serious? You really believe it’s that catastrophic of an injury?”

Arms crossed over your chest, you glare daggers at Park and say to the room before he can, “Actually, Dr. Park is the one who’s guessing now. He can assess the severity of the injury and perform the right surgery to repair it, but he definitely can’t see into the future when it comes to healing, rehabilitation, and physical therapy.”

Park gives you a flat not-smile and tells Mrs. Murray, “Twelve years in orthopedics with a specialization in sports injuries; I know what a long-term disability looks like when I see it.” While you debate how unprofessional it would be to jump on his back and bang some sense into his thick skull with your fists, he glances at Garcia and says, “Get him prepped. I’ll have my team prepare Surgery Three. Come find me when we’re ready to scrub.”

Garcia nods. “Of course, Dr. Park.”

As Park leaves the room without another word, you turn to Frankie and his parents, all of whom now have tears in their eyes because of that stupid-ass alpha, and tell them, “Look, Frankie, you’re not gonna run for the rest of this season, but that definitely doesn’t mean you’ll never run again. Stay positive and focus on following your post-op instructions to a tee, okay? I’ve seen athletes come back from much worse than this and there are actually a lot of studies that show a positive outlook can improve outcomes during recovery, so keep your chin up. For me. Promise?”

Frankie gives you a weak smile, sniffles, and nods.

“Okay, good. I’ll be the first one to check on you after your surgery. I’ll introduce you to our awesome rehab team – they’re so amazing, I promise – and we’ll get you on the right schedule to get you back on track – and on the track. Good?”

Mrs. Murray pulls you into a hug. The gentleness of getting a hug from another omega always makes you feel light and soft. The feeling only doubles when she pulls away and says, “You’ve been so great during all of this, thank you.”

“That means the world to me.” You assure one more time, “We’re all going to make sure he gets the best care possible. You and your husband can wait here at the hospital in one of our family lounges or you can ask reception to give you a call when he’s coming out of anesthesia. Either way, I’ll see you later this evening.”

Then you give all of them another professional smile, walk confidently and slowly out of the room – and then absolutely book it toward the elevator when you spot Park about to successfully escape back upstairs.

“Hey, mister, you stop right there!” You snatch Park by the arm (using your rage to ignore the part of your brain that notices how large and firm his bicep is) and try to drag him away from the elevator toward the nearest corner where you can have him partially alone. After letting you struggle to move his massive form for a second or two, he goes along with you. He doesn’t speak, just gives you one of those ‘get on with it’ looks of his. You furrow your brows, set your jaw cruelly, and shove your finger hard into his broad chest. “You absolutely cannot talk to patients like that. You crushed his dreams without even caring and that’s not acceptable. He’s just a kid!”

“He’s fifteen,” Park scoffs back. “It’s time for him to start learning the ropes of the real world.” Then he laughs, sounding a bit condescending for your taste, and puts his big hand on your shoulder, “And that’s doctor mister, pup.”

The word makes you do a double take. Calling another adult that is so overtly intimate – almost familial – that it has absolutely no place at work. If someone overheard it, they’d assume you were married. Or they’d report him. And, honestly, it’s a spear straight through your resolve to resist him.

A tiny whimper escapes your lips without your permission and you have to pinch your thighs together to attempt to convince yourself not to get all slick when you don’t have a panty liner on. With your eyes shamefully averted, tears stinging them and face burning hot because you’re so embarrassed you whisper, “You can’t call me that when you’re not- when we’re not-”

“I’m sorry,” he replies, earnest, urgent. Regret floods his body; he knows exactly what kind of effect sudden intimacy like that could have on an omega. He cups your cheek, forcing you to look up, but he’s sure to drop his hand away as soon as he has your eyes. You can still feel the strength of his smooth skin on yours when it’s gone and you miss it immediately. You’ve never noticed how pretty his blue eyes are when they’re focused solely on you. “I- I honestly don’t know why I said that. I’ve never called someone – anyone, not even girlfriends – that before.” He tilts his head to the side and searches your face like there’s a mirror in your eyes and maybe he can understand himself by looking into them. After a minute of tense silence, he mutters, “I know I’m…me. I know how people talk about me and they’re not wrong. But I’m not a sexist. I’m not someone who ever questions omegas being doctors or treats them any different than the idiot alphas I work with and- Sorry. Genuinely sorry. I really don’t know what came over me.”

Suddenly unable to stop himself, he takes your hand in his, squeezing it gently, almost like a stress ball, and goes on quickly, like the words are just tumbling out of him, “You’re an incredibly competent doctor and I appreciate that you don’t just fold to me the way a lot of people do. It makes me a better physician when you challenge me. I know I could, ah, work on my bedside manner. If it matters to you, I’ll go back to Frankie and his parents and apologize before his surgery, alright? You’re right; he’s- he’s just a kid. Hasn’t even presented yet. He doesn’t need me talking to him like that when he’s already scared shitless. You’re a kind doctor and a good hire and you shouldn’t ever doubt yourself.” With his voice now shaking slightly – that’s new to him, very new – Park finishes, “I hope you can forgive me. For- for saying that just now and for being a dick. I promise I’ll be better for you.”

For you.

It slips out.

He doesn’t know why.

But he doesn’t apologize for that one.

You study him for another moment, smelling the subtle change to his scent. It’s lighter and sweeter now, more like warm cinnamon instead of harsh clove, and you’re officially a little drunk on it when it’s served up with a side of him actually showing you some vulnerability and care. Without overthinking it, you throw your arms around the back of his neck and murmur, “I forgive you. Thank you for saying all that. It matters, I promise.”

For one split second, he can write it off as normal omega sweetness, the same way he does when his nurses hug him after a successful procedure. He knows how to respond to those hugs. Hands briefly on the upper back, posture tall but open, a professional compliment exchanged. But then his nose makes brief, soft contact with the scent gland on your neck.

There’s only so much scent blockers can do.

They can’t stop someone from smelling your pheromones directly above your skin, especially at the strongest gland on your body. Crisp green apple and nectarine and cherry, the exact sorts of fruits that marry well with cinnamon and cloves. The two of you are a mulled wine slowly simmering over a fire, the rich steam filling a small space with its intoxicating aroma.

Brendon’s cells rearrange. His heartbeat speeds up and his veins are suddenly full of something sweet and syrupy. His eyes flutter shut and he softly noses your neck, the tiny gesture completely instinctual, a quiet, barely-audible moan coming from somewhere deep inside of him. Somewhere completely foreign. He pulls in a deep breath and lets you coat his throat and lungs. When you feel the bridge of his nose touch your jaw, you gasp softly.

Brendon’s right hand slides down your spine slowly, resting at the small of your back, pulling you close against him with a campfire rumble in his chest. His other hand goes to the back of your head, protective, intense, and you twine your fingers in the soft hair at the base of his neck, loose and slightly curled after a day of surgeries. Your nails scratch his scalp softly, right at the edge of his scruff, and he shivers. You roll onto your tiptoes and bare your neck more, thoughtless, pressing your chest to his and falling into the dream of having a mate who adores you completely. Who holds you like this. You sink into the intimacy of the moment and he does, too, both of your bodies molding to the other.

Time ticks by in slow motion. Neither of you have any clue how long the embrace lasts, but you’re pretty sure you could stay safe and cocooned inside of it forever. This is what everyone’s talking about; it has to be.

Then Garcia clears her throat behind Brendon and quietly says, “Um, Dr. Park? Sorry to, ah, interrupt, but I finished with Frankie’s prep; it’s time to take him in for the surgery.”

Brendon pulls away as quickly as possible, eyes blown wide and dark. Pure shock rolling over him in waves. It takes herculean force to stop looking at you. At his mate. He tightens his jaw. Rolls his shoulders. “I’ll, ah, I’ll see you around.” He has to swallow hard and breathe slowly, focusing on Garcia’s and Santos’ nearby scents, to get his cock to soften. Before turning around, he murmurs seriously to you, “Thank you for your understanding. Sorry again.”

You whisper breathlessly, “It’s okay.”

Brendon gives you one more curious, scrutinizing look – Did you feel what he just felt? Does his scent make you go wild like that? Does this mean something? – before turning around and heading with Garcia toward the surgical wing.

Materializing behind you after following Garcia around like a stray, Trinity balks, “What in the holy hell shit fuck was that?”

“I, ah, I- He- He apologized to me. For being mean to my patient,” you rush out to try to explain the truly bizarre scene she’d walked in on. Oh, fuck, your panties are ruined. Your head is pounding and blood whooshes loud and fast in your ears. Blinking fast as your pupils adjust to the lights after being so wide, you awkwardly stammer out, “Um, I have to tell you something, Trin, because if I don’t talk about it with someone I think I’m going to die.”

Back at Santos’ and Whitaker’s shared apartment that evening, Dennis’ jaw has gone slack as he leans forward over his Chinese food and clarifies, “Park the goddamn Shark is your fated mate? How did you- When did you-”

“The first time I met him,” you admit sheepishly as you push your food around your plate. “I could tell right away. Clearly he doesn’t use any suppressants or blockers; it’s completely and totally overwhelming. The first few months, I could hardly think around him until I got used to it.”

Trinity’s eyebrows go up. “Overwhelming? Park? I barely know what he smells like.”

“Yeah, because you’re an alpha.” Whitaker rolls his eyes and then gives you a sympathetic half-smile. “Park does smell really strong. I mean, not as strong as Robby, but-”

It’s your turn to question, “Robby? I can barely smell him at all. What is it…menthol?”

“Peppermint,” Dennis sighs wistfully. “And a little bit of this kind of cold smell I can’t place. Like that Dentyne ice gum with the crystals in it.”

Trinity hangs her head and groans, “I need more non-omega friends; this is brutal.”

Whitaker shushes her and asks you, “How have you been doing it all this time? I just have a crush on Robby and working with him every day makes me want to vomit.”

“It helped a lot that he was always a dick to me,” you reply with a heavy sigh. “Now that he’s all ‘I promise I’ll be better for you’ I just- I’m fucked.”

Dennis whispers like he’s watching a rom-com, “He said that?”

“Yeah, he did.” You flop back on the couch, your appetite dying. Then you throw your arm over your forehead and groan, “And my breakthrough heat is scheduled for next month, of course, because I have the worst luck in the world.”

Whitaker stares at you like you’re absolutely bonkers. “Why haven’t you switched to the implant for your suppressants? The technology’s been available for years now. I haven’t had a heat since before med school.”

“I had one for a year, but the side effects were too strong for me. I guess that makes sense. My secondary hormone levels have always been through the roof. Hard to suppress.”

“You should have a blood panel done,” Trinity adds, “the hormones behind the whole ‘fated mates’ legend can cause-”

“Trinity, please. I’m also a doctor. I know.”

She raises her hands up in defeat. “Well, are you at least certain that you have enough time off planned for when you take the placebo pills? I know I helped you out on your breakthrough heat last year, but now I have-”

Whitaker leaps off the couch. “What?!”

Trinity yanks him back onto the cushion. “It’s not a big deal, huckleberry, that’s something friends do if they need to. Don’t be such a prude.” Then, exasperated, she returns her attention to you. “Like I was saying, it’s gonna be way worse now that you know your mate’s just out and about in the hospital. Now that you know what he smells like. You have to tell him.”

“No. Not an option. I can’t do that.”

“Why not? It’s not like you can avoid it forever.” When you frown, she narrows her eyes at you and gestures like ‘duh,’ “Y’know, it’s fate.”

“I’ve been doing a great job avoiding it until today! And you said yourself that’s a myth! We absolutely can avoid…what do they call it now to make it sound all serious?”

“Endocrine-Mediated Pairing Response,” Dennis says with dramatic, sarcastic air quotes. “Like it’s some disease and not a normal part of evolution.”

“I mean,” Trinity treads carefully, “it is kind of a disease, if you think about it.” She looks to you for confirmation, offering, “Like, something’s happening to you that you can’t control, and it’s because of your hormones, and you don’t want it to be happening. We treat endocrine disorders, right? How is EMPR any different?”

A bit tentatively, you reply, “Who said I don’t want it?”

“You, just now.” Trinity shrugs and says, “You said you don’t want Brendon. So wouldn’t you rather be – sorry for phrasing it like this, but I’m sure you get what I mean – a normal omega? Den can just go around having crushes and once him and an alpha click, they get to choose who to mate with. Isn’t that how it should be? Your body’s doing something to get in the way.”

“Well, yeah, I guess if you say it like that, but-” You gesture around dramatically, trying to make sense of your own thoughts while your friends look on in pity. It doesn’t even make sense to you, not really, which is part of the problem. You’re doctors; you want to be able to sort everything into neat boxes, but there are always exceptions. Some of those exceptions are diseases, some of them are normal variations, some of them are advantages. They all just are and it’s up to your field to decide which category they fit into. So you tell them the truth: “Look, when I hugged him today after he showed me a different side of him, that’s- It was- Jesus, honestly, it’s the best I’ve felt in my entire life. Seriously. I felt so safe and so comfortable and, yeah, okay, so turned on. But it definitely didn’t feel like something was wrong and that’s definitely not a feeling I’d medicate away. I've never felt anything like it.”

She pushes, “Even if that feeling is entirely dependent on proximity to Park the Shark?”

After a minute of quiet, tears sting at your eyes. You’ve never felt so confused. You whimper out, “I don’t know. I really don’t know.”

“Oh, cherry.” Trinity scooches closer and wraps her arms around you. She lets her scent flare in an attempt to comfort you, but all it does is make you long for the way it felt when Brendon’s scent finally fell into place with yours. Still, you nestle into the nook of her neck and try to breathe deeply and let your nervous system calm down. “We can figure this out. The three of us – well, us two, at least – are plenty capable of dealing with something as simple as hormones, right? We’ve got, like, two decades of medical training between us -- and Garcia, too, who I’m sure would help out if I asked.”

You pull back and swat tears off your cheek. You feel pathetic and silly and sad all at once. “Help with what?”

Trinity takes out her phone, already scheming. “When’s your heat, sweetheart?”

Still sniffling while Dennis tries to follow what the hell is happening, you take out your phone and open the tracking app. “I start my month of placebo pills tomorrow, so just about four weeks.”

With a tight nod, she says, “That means Shark’s gonna start smelling you like crazy this week while the suppressants leave your system.”

“Fuck, I hadn’t even thought of that,” you groan, pacing around the apartment and debating the merits of hiding under a rock for the next six weeks. “I’ve never had to do this with my mate just walking around all the time. The rest of you stupid alphas won’t even pick it up until the last week before my heat starts. I’m supposed to be-”

“Okay, time to end the spiral,” Whitaker interrupts, standing up and steadying you with hands on your shoulders. “Trinity’s right. We’ll figure this out.”

“I texted Garcia and she’s down,” Trinity replies, trying to sound encouraging. “For the next couple weeks, we run recon on Park. There’s no way he’s ‘the Shark’ 24/7, right? He’s gotta be some semblance of normal underneath all that. We’ll get enough details for you to decide if you can, y’know, invite him to, ah, to do your whole heat thing with you this time or if you need more time to, ah, to trust him with your- with your precious-”

Finally, that makes you laugh. “Are you blushing?”

Definitely turning red, she practically shrieks, “It’s weird to think about!”

You howl, “We’ve literally had sex before.”

“That doesn’t count; we were both-”

“Doesn’t count?” Trying desperately hard to keep a straight face through the laughter, you tell her with a pout, “You’re hurting my feelings here, rosemary.”

“I’m just saying; this is Park we’re talking about. Picturing him all knotted up in your sweet little nest is like-” She shakes her head like the concept is truly revolting. “Not trying to yuck your yum, but…yuck.” Then she forces a smile and adds, “But, hey, if it doesn’t work out, well, you always have dildos.”

A little softer now, you sigh, “Dildos don’t make me feel like he does.”

“Maybe if we added a good vibrator too it could get you there?”

Support me on ko-fi if you'd like!

[midnightgardentales]

The “Veteran!Jack Abbot x Veterinarian!Reader” Masterlist:

❣️ Common Misunderstanding ❣️

Plot: When Jack indulges in a day off at the park, he meets a girl who, he believes, he has so much in common with..

* * * *

❣️ Common Mistake ❣️

Plot: Y/N might just be “the one”, so it’s only right that she finally meets Jack’s work family…

* * * *

❣️ Common Situation ❣️

Plot: When Y/N’s trip is delayed, Jack wants to squeeze in more time with her. But watching her bf share war stories with a woman who “just gets it”, isn’t exactly the night Y/N had in mind…

* * * *

❣️ Old Dog ❣️

Plot: Y/N and Jack Abbot haven’t had a good moment alone in almost two weeks. When the opportunity final comes for them to spend the night together, things take a sour turn when Y/N hears something she shouldn’t have. Or did she?

* * * *

❣️The sun always shines❣️

Plot: At almost 2am, Robby takes Jack up on his advice to call him if things get dark. Y/N is there to lend a shoulder…

* * * *

❣️Give it all to me❣️

Plot: When Y/N’s beloved patient has to finally go, she’s devastated but, assuming Jack wouldn’t understand, she tries to keep it to herself..

* * * *

❣️The Gala❣️

Plot: Jack’s finally starting to get mail at Y/N’s place, one letter leads to a very fun night and a drunken confession..

* * * *

❣️Need You Here❣️

Plot: It’s been a week since the Medical Gala. And Y/N is afraid her antics from that night are what’s keeping Jack at bay. Little does she know, he’s got a plan up his sleeve..

* * * *

[hat-trick-honey]

Oh..oh...Kirill. fuck me.

[whoetoshaw]

HOLIDAY OF DREAMS | a. buttle

status: ongoing

genre: angst, fluff, pining, and eventual smut

warnings: alcohol consumption, drug use, messy emotions, chaotic group dynamics, jealousy, swearing, hangxiety, and the occasional bad decision in a club toilet.

SUMMER 2021

y/n. eighteen. schoolgirl. main character energy without acting like she wants it. clever. unpredictable. cut-throat humour. above boy nonsense. self-possessed and composed. might use minimal effort but still ends up being the one everyone watches. bit of a wildcard outside of the school uniform. clean hands, dirty habits. only does it with her nails done. respectful. responsible. poster girl. old soul. doesn’t fake laugh. a diamond in the rough.

alfie. eighteen. schoolboy. witty humour. switched on. funny when he actually speaks. unfiltered. gym bro. football hooligan. loves a pint after sixth form. bit too comfy in toilet cubicles. hates drama. watches everything. a chill guy. performative with the lads. quietly sentimental. unbothered all the time. slow texter. plays it cool. soft but not weak. good heart. loud when he wants to be.

two groups. one popular holiday package. rowdy boys who start to feel less unbearable and girls who show their rough edges.

sunburnt skin. hot sand. salty breeze. cherry daiquiris. coconut lotion. seashell earrings. poolside laughs. late night convos. secret glances. salty breeze. house music. warm air. laughter spilling. lips locking. balcony bickering. cups clinking. blinding lights. disco balls and endless amounts of sunglasses.

SERIES MASTERLIST

day one ✈️🧳

day two 🍉💦

day three ⛰️🚍

day four ⛵️🌊

day five 🪩💫

day six 💦💋

day seven

DISCLAIMER that these characters are all fictional. the names i’ve picked are at complete random, both y/n’s friends and alfie’s as i obvs do not know his hometown friends and so chosen at complete random and if have any link at all are by total coincidence.

[leaderwonim]

⋆˚꩜｡ DID YOU GET YOUR TASTE BACK? masterlist

pairing: macklin celebrini x actress!reader

synopsis: when two young big names get together, it’s pretty hard to miss. especially when there’s jealousy and drama involved.

──── .✦ in chronological order! ──── .✦

FICS ⋆.˚

you seem pretty sad for a girl so inlove

➥ macklin celebrini has always had a crush on y/n, the famous young actress, but he can never seem to get with her, all because of her boyfriend. if she’s so in love though, why does she seem so sad?

hope ur ok

➥ seeing macklin and y/n pushes y/n’s boyfriend to his limits. after their breakup, y/n finds herself in the comfort of the young hockey player and his best friend

jealousy, jealousy

➥ y/n and will have been spending an awful lot of time together, which doesn’t go over too well for macklin

all asks relating to this au is under # mc71 au

[geor-riaaa]

Hello, Neighbor?

Dr. Jack Abbott x teacher!reader

description: Being a daycare teacher was harder than anyone really thought of. One kid was already a handful—with you growing up as an older sibling, so why bother teaching more than 20 kids everyday at the same time, right? Well, that could be said otherwise with your summer jam packed schedule of prepping study materials for 4th graders.

So when your grandma called you in to house sit for a few months while she was staying at your moms, you’ve never agreed with such enthusiasm in your life. After all, she lives in a quiet neighborhood with a very kind neighbor named Robby.

What your grandma fails to mention was how this specific neighbor always does nude yoga in the mornings.

tags/warnings: 18+ MDNI, slow burn (three LENGTHY chapters), reader being done with life, Jack Abbott being down bad, eventual smut (ladies ladies, leave me alone type shift), p in v, way more nasty stuff but idk what to call it, very domestic if you squint, angst and fluff, mentions of mental health issues, it’s a bumpy ride but happy ending !!

I have returned from hibernation (former wattpadd author) to deliver the pitt content because I am OBSESSED. My Abbott and Whitaker obsession WILL be fed, along with my fellow truthers. Enjoy reading !!

Chapter 1: Lonesome is a state of mind

Chapter 2: Earrings

Chapter 3: Reflections

[gatorlovebot]

audio erotica

michael "robby" robinavitch x f!reader

summary: you find yourself in a bit of a predicament when a night out with your girlfriends turns into you matching the voice of your favorite audio erotica creator to his face.

a/n: i originally wrote this fic (series) years ago for another fandom but i decided to rework it for da pitt/robby. the audio erotica website mentioned is quinn <3

wc: 2.1k

contains: a few lines of dirty talk, no smut mentioned.

part 2 here

a single voice shouldn’t be able to stop you in your tracks, especially not in a crowded pittsburgh bar on a thursday night, but somehow, it does. you and your girlfriends had been out for some casual drinks and you’d been overstimulated by the sounds of dozens of voices swirling around you, but none have made you pause like this one. at first, you just thought it was a pleasant voice drifting over to you from somewhere near, but you couldn’t shake how familiar it sounded.

you, almost unconsciously at first, start listening for the voice, slowly tuning out the familiar tones and cadences of your friends. you’ve always been more of an observer when it comes to nights like this, so your friends pay you no mind as you keep to yourself instead of paying attention to whatever work gossip is being spilled. your ears perk up every time you hear it, your eyes scanning the crowded bar, longing for its source.

you’re rewarded for your observant nature when your eyes finally land on a crowded high top table just to your right. you don’t even have to turn much in your chair to get a good view of the man at the head of the table. it had to be him, you just knew it. the table was cramped with bottles and glasses, chairs squished so men and women could all fit. but there’s only one man that voice could belong to. you just knew it was him.

“want in on another round?”

the hand on your wrist startles you, pulling you completely out of your thoughts. your friends' dark eyes search yours as you scramble for a response. you reach for your glass, the last dredges of your vodka cranberry diluted with melted ice. you smile at your friend, “i’d love another, thanks.”

you give her a grateful smile as she squeezes your wrist before turning in the direction of the bar. you take the last sip of your drink, trying to put that voice out of your mind. your stomach tugs with guilt and shame reminding you what you’re actually here for, to catch up with your closest friends. but your eyes quickly fall back to that goddamn high top when a voice from that table exclaims, rather loudly, “oh, come on, robby!”

robby. robby. robby michael.

you must be dreaming. you must have fallen asleep on your couch instead of making it to the bar because there was no way robby was just a stones throw away from you right now. before, you had just been caught in the fantasy, of the what-if of it being robby, but it had to be just some other guy named robby, right? a few more moments of eavesdropping makes your stomach twist because the voice is just too spot on.

“ohoh, you’re so going to pay for that, brat.”

you had stumbled across robby a few months ago, he was new on the website and typically you didn’t stray too far from your rotation of voices, but you had made an exception for him. it had been his profile picture that really piqued your interest, it was a close up selfie that cut off right below his eyes.

he had a full, but well trimmed beard and your eyes had immediately darted between all the grey sprinkled in the dark hair, finally landing on the grey patch on his chin. you had always loved a man that was capable of growing a thick, full beard. and his nose. god, his nose. a strong, built nose that sat perfectly on his long face. you were smitten from that picture alone.

and his voice. his voice ruined you for every other guy on the app. his voice was deep and gravely, it definitely came with age, which you certainly had no complaints about. he had a handful of audios regarding age gaps, with him being all sorts of older and domineering figures, which always left you feeling incredibly wet. but even with the obvious tropes he was very clever and creative when it came to his audios.

one of your favorites of his was a short series he did where he played the owner of a used bookstore. his voice was so soft as he had read passages from a book that you couldn’t remember, the sounds of pages turning completely calming your brain. there was a first time audio that you had listened to at least a dozen times at this point, his voice had been so sweet and gentle right in your ear. and the audio that made you squirm the most just thinking about it was a gynecology roleplay he did, you had sighed out dr. robby as you came that night.

“everything feels perfectly normal, miss, but let me add another finger just to be sure.”

and maybe it was a little bit pathetic, cumming to a voice nearly every night that you would never know, so that's why you kept that part of yourself locked away. never talked about it with your friends because it was your dirty little secret. so that’s why this whole situation, is your worst fucking nightmare.

you look over again, stealing a peek of the scene before you. he’s still at the head of the table, nursing a glass of dark liquor while listening to the guy next to him tell a story using mostly his hands. they look to be the oldest ones at the table, robby with his deep crows feet and his friend with his silver curls.

it wasn’t like they were significantly older than the rest of the men and women around them, but some of them were in much flashier clothing. more appropriate for a nightclub than for a casual bar. maybe they were going to a club later, seemingly having much more energy than robby, with his ruddy cheeks and his tired eyes.

shame washes over you, feeling like a voyeur, as you turn away from the group as your friends return from the bar with more drinks. you gladly take yours, more so chewing on the straw to give you something to do as you try to tap back in on the conversation at hand. luckily, it was one of your closer friends rehashing work drama she’d already called you about earlier in the week. it gives you the opportunity to sit back and throw in comments when appropriate and within a few minutes you’re enthralled in the conversation again.

but your eyes can’t help but cut back to that high top table when you hear the sounds of chairs scraping against the bar floor. you watch as the younger girls of the group, dressed in skirts and kitten heels, get up from their seats. you overhear drawn out goodbyes and mentions of “stay together” and “don’t get too fucked up”. but the timber of robby’s voice cuts right through to you. “i’ll walk you guys out, gotta hit the bathroom, anyway.”

he walks behind the girls, making their way past your table towards the front of the bar. “god, robby, already breaking the seal after just one beer?” one of the girls jokes, familiar humor in her voice.

you watch as robby’s face scrunches up in an annoyed huff of breath, “oh, santos, you’ll understand when you’re my age.”

the teasing lilt of his voice washes over you, your eyes taking long drags over his body as he passes by. he's tall, that's what you first notice. he towers over the girls even in their heels. but he's not imposing, instead he walks behind the small group and gives them a wave as they make it out of the bar and he ducks into the bathrooms tucked into the corner by the front entrance.

the salt and pepper in his hair wasn't surprising, you knew he was older and it showed quite clearly in his profile picture on the site. but seeing all the grey in his well kept beard in person? you had to squeeze your thighs together when he finally came back to his now much less crowded table.

you watch him take his seat at the head again, his shoulders relaxing as he wraps his long fingers around a dewy pint glass. you watch him laugh at something someone says, delighting at the crows feet around his eyes and the way his cheeks flush. but you feel like your stomach is going to fall out of your ass when his eyes cut directly to you. oh shit. he caught you staring.

you feel your eyes widen in embarrassment as he unfortunately holds eye contact with you, before you finally get it together enough to dart your eyes away. you look down at your sugary cocktail, bringing your shaky hand up to the glass. you take a long sip, giving yourself something to do as you try to slow down your erratic heart beat.

you firmly set down your glass, the ice rattling at the bottom, the dredges of your vodka cranberry coloring the pieces a soft pink. the coolness of the glass helps to ground you a little bit. you tell yourself that even though it kind of feels like it, it's absolutely not the end of the world that you were caught staring.

after a few more moments, you force yourself back into the conversation happening around you. you turn your back fully to the man, not allowing yourself to get distracted by him for the rest of the night. but your new position makes you miss the way his eyes shine in delight and his lips curl into a barely there smile. your gaze sends a spark up his spine and even though you don’t allow him another look at your face for the rest of the night, he still shamelessly watches you as you leave the bar with your girlfriends.

the following days are frustrating to say the least and you end up falling into a cycle of remembering being caught by robby, feeling so embarrassed, and then trying to push the whole thing from your mind completely. but, nothing helps. you can’t stop thinking about him. his hands, his beard, his eyes, his voice were all you could think about and it was becoming a major problem.

you were also experiencing another problem, you hadn’t been able to get off since that night. you had banned yourself from listening to any of robby's audios in the following days, but nobody else on the site did it for you anymore, so you were left feeling frustrated and unsatisfied.

but, you end up aimlessly scrolling through the app anyways, just like tonight. multiple new audios were uploaded to the site earlier that morning, but nothing sounded even remotely interesting to you. then you saw it, the slope of his perfect nose in his profile picture. you couldn’t help but feel like he was mocking you by uploading so soon after your blunder. but then your stomach drops when you see the title of his audio, “Meet Cute at the Bar”. oh no. then your eyes skim over the tags he's included, [M4F] [Strangers to Lovers] [Banter] [Slow Burn] [First Time] [Gentle] [Praise] [Curve Appreciation]. but what really gets you is the summary, “I caught you looking from across the bar, mind if I join you?"

you’re pressing play before you can even think about what you’re doing. your ears are initially filled with mindless chatter and the clinking of pint glasses, background noise, before you hear robby's all too familiar voice, “this seat taken?” followed by the sound of him settling into what you assumed was a bar stool. “i know us locking eyes for all of 5 seconds isn’t exactly an invitation for me to come over and bother you, but i guess i’m pressing my luck tonight.”

he follows it up with a laugh, a barely there huff of breath that you've become very familiar with. robby knew how to flirt, which was something that you might have found dickish in other guys, but with robby there was always a sort of bashfulness to it. you scroll down to the comments, reading through the gushing praise that was par for the course for any of the man's audios. when you scroll down to the end, though, you find that the first comment left on the audio was from…robby.

“Made eyes with a gorgeous woman across the bar a few days ago and haven’t been able to stop thinking about her since. Tried to get over it by recording this but, I'm still stuck on her.”

you roll over, your laptop landing askew on your bed as you shove your face in one of your pillows and scream. you were so fucked.

[californ1asnow]

In Good Hands ✰ Dennis Whitaker x Veterinarian! Reader SMAU/Written

yearning

Yearning is an intense, often painful, and tender longing or deep emotional craving for someone or something, frequently born from absence, separation, or impossibility. It is a persistent desire, described as a "sweet wound" that connects deeply to the soul rather than just immediate desire.

Synopsis: Dennis Whitaker is a man who yearns.

Aka, you’re an emergency veterinarian and Whitaker agreed to watch a patient’s golden retriever puppy while they were recovering in the ICU.

Warnings: mentions of veterinary and medical terminology/procedures

Fic is a mix between written and SMAU posts!!

Enjoy!

Ch. 1

Ch. 2

insta post

Ch. 3

Ch. 4

Ch. 5

Ch. 6 - coming soon

[iwritefandomimagines]

intro | part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven | tbc

—fic description: since moving to pittsburgh from your small town in oregon, you’ve made quite the impression on your new colleagues. everyone in your life already calls you “sunny”, owing to your bright personality, but you don’t realise quite what a light you’ve started to shine on dennis whitaker’s life. oh, and you clearly do have a type. and that type would be cute nerdy farm boy medical practitioners who grew up in the midwest and would do anything for you.

—tags: social media au, fem dr!reader x dennis whitaker, ex fem dr!reader x matt pearson (st denis medical), friends to lovers!, somewhat slow burn, langdon is divorced because i enjoy #chaos, crack vibes but also lots of fluff and maybe angst and silliness. matt will probably make an actual appearance at some point bc i love being messy and i love him sm. you live with victoria and she’s ur ride or die btw. may be a bit ooc

—author’s note: ok so i love these two silly little mouse boys so bad i couldn’t help the crossover. it’ll probably be lots of parts because i’m stuck on mobile atm so limited image wise but that should be sorted soon 🫡 part 1 will be up later today

ps i didn’t wanna use y/n so everyone calls you sunny/sunshine lol

—tag list: @thisrandombitch [lmk if you want to be added!]

sneak peak:

[thelightofday]

ᯓ 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 .ᐟ.ᐟ

dr. brendon park x younger fm! resident reader)

— smau! masterlist

it’s a mystery to most— the way park “the shark” is only truly kind to one ED resident. the only one he brings coffee to. doesn’t glare at or mutter snide comments toward. the only one he tolerates. little miss sunshine, who unlike her colleagues, doesn’t shy away from the intimidating ortho surgeon. never hesitates to put him in his place, actually. and he’s… starting to like it?

contents: 18+ MINORS DNI swearing, slight age gap (unspecified), suggestive themes, illusions to smut, park (occasionally) being a big meanie, corny jokes.

𑣲 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞

𑣲 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨

𑣲 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞

𑣲 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫

𑣲 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞

disclaimer: photos used in moodboard are not my own and were obtained from pinterest.

[tequilai]

𝐒𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐛𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕- 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐈𝐓𝐓 𝐒𝐌𝐀𝐔

In a world where everyone is OOC and reader is a veterinary technician who has a big fat crush on the new doctor at the Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center after a forgotten lunch incident…where her father- Dr. Robby and uncle…Dr. Abbot work.

⚕️Dennis Whitaker x !Robinavitch reader |TAGLIST CLOSED| EXTRA: all my reaction pics pt.2

˙𐃷˙ 1. d.whit69

˙𐃷˙ 2. Okay, received.

˙𐃷˙ 3. Green…possibly

˙𐃷˙ 4. Making friends

˙𐃷˙ 5. Good flirts

˙𐃷˙ 6. Lint

˙𐃷˙ 7. Great flirts

[puckability]

Pirates and Penguins

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Sidney Crosby x fem!reader

You end up at a Penguins game with your niece despite being a baseball fan, and then you take a puck to the head by none other than our resident golden boy Sidney Crosby

warnings - sarcastic reader, late twenties reader, mentions of blood, explicit language, use of y/n

2.5k words

You weren't really sure how you'd even ended up at a hockey game if you were being honest with yourself.

It's not like you didn't know who the Penguins were, you didn't live under a rock. It's just that baseball was more your vibe, even if the Pirates left you tearing your hair out most of the time.

Still, you were here because your best friend's kid was obsessed, and you were nothing if not committed to being the cool aunt. Also what good was a combined art degree if not for making signs for sports?

Cassidy, your best friend and mother of Ellie had been called into the work last minute, so you'd swooped in on babysitting duty and agreed to take her to the game, even if you had absolutely no idea what you were looking at.

"Do you think they like my sign?" Ellie asked from in front of you, her little eyes wide and grin infectious as she looked out at the rink.

You were still slightly startled at how fast they were moving, and this was only warmups. You had her standing on your thighs, little hands clasped around the edges of the A3 paper you'd decorated earlier that day.

"Yeah baby, I'm sure they love it," you replied, wincing slightly as one guy stacked it on the ice right in front of you. You could see him being chirped by a couple of his teammates, and you felt a little bad, the kid looked younger than you by a good few years.

Ellie was talking on your lap, waving her sign a little bit every time a player got close. Number 87 skated by, eyes flicking across the varying signs decorating the glass.

His eyes caught yours for half a second before he skated on by and you smiled, Sidney Crosby was just as hot in real life as he was on those enormous fucking posters they put up all over Pittsburgh.

You watched as people filled in the remaining seats around you, seeing different players flinging pucks over the plexi-glass to excited fans.

It was while you were busy watching other people catch pucks, that you missed Number 87 skating over and making faces at Ellie, and missed the puck that he tossed over, falling straight through Ellie's little hands and smacking you straight in the face.

"Motherfu—" You bit your tongue, mindful of the young ears around you.

"y/n I got a puck!" Ellie screamed, hopping down off your legs to turn around and grab at the puck now situated in your lap, sign now forgotten on the floor.

The woman next to you handed you a tissue out of nowhere, just in time for Ellie to let out a little gasp, "You're bleeding!"

You felt the tell tale warm drip of blood track down the side of your head with a twitch of annoyance, you had a white top on for Godsake.

Your head throbbed where the puck had made contact, and you knew there'd be a sizable egg forming as Ellie looked up at you with tears in her eyes.

You brought the tissue from the woman up to your eye and pulled Ellie up onto your lap.

"It's okay sweetie, I'm alright, just a little bump," Ellie still looked concerned, the little girl was just as empathetic as her mother.

Someone tapped your shoulder from behind, and when you turned they were pointing back at the glass.

Pointing at Sidney Crosby to be exact. Sidney Crosby who stood right on the other side of the plexi-glass looking like he was standing trial and mouthing what looked like a very solemn apology.

Sorry or not, what kind of idiot launches a puck at a six year old standing on the lap of someone who's not even looking? You rolled your eyes ever so slightly but nodded anyway, and he made eye contact again with a tilt of his head before skating away.

Realistically you knew you should probably go see medical, just in case, but this was Ellie's night and you didn't want her to miss anything.

So, you stayed as the lights went down and the game got underway, even as your head ached and your stomach began to twist.

During the first intermission Cass texted saying she might make it for the third period and Ellie wiggled in her seat. She was so enamoured by the puck in her hands she didn't even notice when her mom snuck up on her a while later.

"Mama! Look! Sidney Crosby gave me a puck! y/n hurt her head though," she said with a little frown as Cass slipped her onto her lap.

"What happened?" Cass said, hand coming up to brush against the now clotted wound. You'd snuck a glance at yourself in the bathroom mirror during a break in play, deep purple blooming around the egg shaped lump above your eye.

"Those pucks are fucking solid is what happened," you grumbled, shooting an unhappy look at the penguins bench, not that 87 could see you.

"I dropped it kinda," Ellie said quietly into her mums chest.

That snapped you out of it.

"Nah, you did an epic job catching it, it was Crosby's fault for chipping it at a weird angle," you winked at the little girl, satisfied when she giggled back.

"But Sid's the best at hockey!"

"Nah, I reckon I could take him," you said conspiratorily as the players made their way back to centre ice for the third period.

When Ellie turned back to face the ice Cass leant over to you, "are you okay though? That bump looks nasty,"

"I feel kinda sick and my head's killing me but it's fine, I just want her to enjoy the game,"

Cass smiled, she knew how important spending time with Ellie was to you, even if it meant getting smacked in the face with a frozen piece of rubber.

By the end of the game you really just wanted to go and be somewhere quiet. Ellie was ecstatic that the Penguins had won, a goal scored right in front of her by Number 87 himself which, had you been looking, you would have seen him glancing at you with a tentative smile.

You hadn't been looking though, and it had driven him mad.

Mad enough, that as you, Cass and Ellie made your way towards the exit amongst the throngs of people jubilant from the win, a Penguins employee was going against the grain aiming seemingly straight for you.

"Oh good I caught you guys!" A flustered looking guy said, gesturing off to the side so the four of you weren't blocking the entire way.

"You're the woman Sid hit with the puck right?" You briefly feel a little bad for the kid, imagining trying to find one person is a sea of thousands.

"Yeah, what gave it away?" You laughed, self consciously reaching to touch your head again.

"He wants to apologise," and that was not what you were expecting the kid to say.

"Oh, well tell him it's fine," you replied, feeling a little antsy to get out of the throng of people once again.

"No, as in like, he wants to meet you, to apologise," the guy looked a little confused at your lack of reaction.

And okay you got it, this was Sidney Crosby, and he wanted to meet you. But also your head felt like it was being weighed down by lead and you wondered if your lunch might be making a re-appearance some time soon.

And then you looked down at Ellie, at her cherubic little face and you crumbled like a cheap biscuit.

"I'll go if they can come with me, and I can have an ice pack," The guy looked slightly surprised at being negotiated with to meet the widely considered GOAT of hockey, but nodded nonetheless before leading you towards a door leading back into the heart of the arena.

Cass nudged you, "you didn't have to do this you know, she would have understood," you looked down at the little girl currently skipping between you and felt your heart clench.

"And deny her meeting her favourite player? I'm not a monster," you smiled.

Cass eyed you with concern, "no, but i'm fairly sure you're mildly concussed."

"Yeah well, getting to see her happy will make up for it,"

"If you guys wait here, Sid will be out in a minute and I'll grab you that ice pack." The kid said before disappearing into what you assumed was the locker room.

You could see the couple of other people in the corridor looking at you with a degree of recognition, but you ignored it in favour of sitting on the floor, head tipped back against the wall.

"y/n? Is your head okay?" Ellie's little voice was tempered, and you pulled her in close so you didn't ruin her big moment.

"Yeah, remember that time last year when I got hit with a baseball? This is nothing, kiddo,"

The Penguins staff member came back with one of those fancy sports ice packs and quiet "Sid won't be a moment,"

Ellie was almost vibrating as she stood between your legs, talking at Cass about the bits of the game that she'd missed. You closed your eyes as you held the icepack to your head, pain starting to abate a little bit now you were in the peace of a mostly empty corridor.

A door opened and Ellie gasped. You could hear Cass laughing quietly but your eyes remained shut.

"Uhm, hi."

You opened your eyes to see Ellie nearly vibrating in place as she stared up at Sidney Crosby.

"Hi! You're Sidney Crosby" Ellie was typically a shy child, and despite your headache, watching her get to talk to her hero was definitely worth it.

"I am, what's your name?"

"I'm Ellie! This is my mom Cass and this is y/n, her head hurts, she likes baseball" Ellie said matter of factly and you watched as Sidney cringed a little.

"You want him to sign your jersey sweetie?" You said as he opened his mouth, you were here for Ellie more than an apology, one day this would be an amusing story.

"Can you?" Ellie gasped.

Sid smiled, his whole face changing shape with it. Something flickered inside you.

"I can do you one better, wait here," Sidney disappeared back inside the locker room for a few minutes, coming back with what looked suspiciously like a man's Penguins jersey in his hands.

"I had the guys sign this, it's for you." He crouched down until he was at Ellie's level, and chatted to her about the game until Ellie had run out of questions to ask.

"Come on little miss, bedtime for you, and I think Mister Crosby has something he'd like to say to y/n," Cass said with a smirk, trust her to drop you in it without an escape.

"We'll meet you outside,"

"Bye Sid! Thanks for the jersey and the puck!" Ellie half yelled as her and Cass wandered off.

You made no move to get up, and watched as Sidney scooted over to sit next to you, not quite touching, but close enough to feel the warmth coming off him in the chill of the corridor.

"I'm really sorry," he said, he was quieter this time, his presence taking up less space now it was just the two of you.

You turned, head still leaning against the wall, now facing him.

"Well I'd hope so, that really hurt," you were grinning as you said it, watching emotions flit across his face, something like interest settling in his gaze.

"I'm Sid, by the way," he offered his hand.

You stared at him, cocking your head to the side with a wince, and laughing gently.

"I know that, did you get a head injury tonight too?" you asked, dropping the now slightly melted icepack into his waiting hand.

He stared at it like he wasn't really sure what to do now. You laughed and then winced at the way it made your head throb.

"That was a really nice thing you did for Ellie, you've made her year."

"Yeah well, it's the least I could do after injuring her…" he trailed off.

"Auntie—well, sort of, Cass is my best friend, Ellie was born during our last year of college. As for the concussion, I took her to a Pirates game last year and took a baseball to the head, so you're actually not the first athlete to injure me." Sid listened to you talk like it was the most interesting thing he'd heard all year and you realised it was probably time to get going before the concussion made you say something stupid.

"Well, I better be going, try not to injure any more people not playing hockey, yeah?" Sid laughed and offered you a hand as you tried to get up.

You felt it then. Underneath the warmth and below the headache you know wouldn't wane for a few days, a spark of something.

"Can I get your number?" Sid asked as you brushed off your pants.

"And what does the great Sidney Crosby want with my number?"

"I wanna take you out for dinner," he paused.

"If you're open to it of course," and bless the guy, you knew the look on your face wasn't exactly welcoming, but standing upright was making everything feel worse.

"Yeah, gimme your phone," he huffed out a laugh, and it occurred to you that you might not be the first person to say that to him, but fuck it, you were kind of keen to get out of there now, GOATed hockey player for company or not.

You saved yourself in his phone as 'Prettiest Baseball Fan in Pittsburgh' and handed it back to him.

"Baseball? I injured you and you're not even a Penguins fan," he groaned.

You giggled as you made to leave.

"Pirates over Penguins all day baby."

You were almost at the door you'd come through earlier when he yelled.

"Hey y/n,"

You turned, "yeah?"

"I'm serious about taking you out for dinner you know, even if you are a baseball fan," you could see the way his smile took over his face, like he thought his joke was the funniest thing in the world, you supposed that was the sort of dork he was.

"Big words from a guy who made me bleed less than two hours ago," you could see the way he paled even from the other end of the corridor.

"Goodnight, y/n,"

"Goodnight Sidney Crosby, I'll see you around."