Hiiii I dont know if you still take requests for Park the Shark but I would like to give one!!
I’d love your headcanons or blurb about Park being possessive and jealous over very kind and warm younger!nurse :)
He was enamored by her when she first started at PTMC and everyone was like “wow Park has feelings?” She’s always super kind and warm to him because she didn’t realize he was an intimidating person to everyone else. He’s always concerned about where she is and if she’s okay like when she’s out with her friends because duh she’s drop dead gorgeous and he knows guys will throw themselves at her. And ofc concerned about her while she’s at work :)))
lmao my brain took this and ran with it so this is what i have lmao :) i hope you enjoy!
dr. brendon park x nurse!reader who can't stop talking about him ✿ 1.5k words
summary: you're out getting drunk with your friends and you can't stop talking about brendon. one of them decides to play matchmaker
cw: fem!nurse!reader, alcohol/drinking, reader has two friends named sarah and chelsea who do not work in the ED, reader is a silly drunk and is very obviously in love with brendon
the pitt masterlist
°˖✧✿✧˖°
You don’t understand what grudge everyone seems to have against Dr. Park.
Sorry, Brendon. He gets antsy when you call him by anything other than his first name.
And that’s weird, at least according to everyone you work with. You’d been scared to meet him at first, given all of the warnings and low whispers you’d heard about him on your first few shifts.
‘He’s horrible.’ One of the other nurses had told you with a shiver, her elbows knocking against yours where you lean on the nurse’s station counter. ‘He’s got these eyes and it’s like he can see directly into your soul.’
‘He wants to eat all of us alive.’ Dr. Whitaker had whispered once when Dr. Park had come up as a topic of conversation during surgery. It was enough to make your heart race at any mention of him.
But then… you’d met him. And sure, you can’t argue that he’s not intimidating. His eyes constantly narrowed in suspicion, his jaw sharp and clenched, the tendons in his neck pulsing with every movement of his body. But you understand him, or maybe it’s that no one else looks past the “shark” exterior to see what’s underneath.
The overwhelming desire to be successful, focused, calm even in the worst of storms. The fear of failure, the anxiety that he or someone else might majorly fuck up and he can’t fix it. The vicious growl in his voice that really means he’s scared to let anyone get too close.
You looked at him, and you saw bits and pieces of yourself.
And you think maybe he saw the same in you, because you became his right hand any time he had to consult in the ED. Maybe part of that was against your will, everyone knows that he doesn’t speak down to you the way he does everyone else. You stand beside him like you’ve always been there, predicting his moves before he can even make them. You hand him the right tools at the right time. You move in flow with him, and he always leaves the perfect amount of space right at his side for you.
So, no, you don’t understand what grudge everyone else seems to have against him.
“Wow.” One of your friends, Sarah, finishes off her drink, eyes scanning you up and down from her place across the table as you finish speaking. “Seems to me like you really like this Dr. Park guy.”
You feel heat bloom in your cheeks, your fingers twisting your straw back and forth in your already empty cocktail glass. “It’s not like that, okay? Brendon and I just work well together.”
Chelsea, your other friend, meets Sarah’s eyes and they both grin brightly. “Brendon…” They both repeat his name, a teasing lilt in their voices. You swat your hand at them.
“Stop it!” You shake your head, rolling your eyes as you try to ignore the butterflies erupting in your stomach. You sit up a bit when you realize the waiter is approaching your table, and you send your friends a look. “The waiter is coming.”
“Oh! Let’s do shots!” Sarah suggests despite the slight slur already present in her speech. Chelsea nods excitedly, already leaning over Sarah to tell the waiter, who nods and takes the empty glasses from in front of you. You roll your eyes at them, but you don’t fight when the shots come to the table.
It’s not long before you decide to go to the bathroom, already a little dizzy when you stand up, steadying yourself on the table.
“I’m going to the bathroom.” You announce, pointing toward it. Sarah and Chelsea nod, waving you off as you go. The two of them sit there, debating ordering another round of shots, when they hear a phone ringing.
It’s your phone, left face up on the table. And the name on screen reads Brendon Park.
Sarah gasps, whacking Chelsea on the arm to get her attention, gesturing to your phone. “It’s that doctor! He’s calling her!”
Chelsea’s smile turns mischievous, and her nimble fingers pluck the phone from the table top.
“Wait, Chelsea don’t-" Sarah tries to protest but Chelsea holds up a finger to silence her, raising your phone to her ear.
“Helloooo Brendon!” She greets brightly, her voice only slightly less slurred than Sarah’s.
“Who is this?” A masculine voice answers from the other line. Chelsea covers the microphone with her hand, looking at Sarah.
“He sounds hot!” She whispers, before clearing her throat and continuing, “I’m Chelsea, I’m just answering the phone because she’s not at the table…” All of her words are long and wobbly.
“Where is she?” His voice is almost snappy now, something that makes Chelsea’s face morph into an even more mischievous look. Sarah tries to shake her head, but Chelsea waves her off again.
“Hmm… I don’t know… She hasn’t been at the table for a while…” She watches as you exit the bathroom, leaning away from Sarah as she tries to grab the phone from her hand. “She was pretty drunk though, you should probably come get her!”
Chelsea can already hear Brendan moving a bit frantically around on the other end, presumably getting his things together to come find you. Her thoughts are confirmed when he bites out a clipped, “Where are you?”
Chelsea quickly gives him the name of the bar as you approach the table again, then an “okay, bye!” and tosses your phone back on the table. You sit down, an eyebrow raised as you look between the two of them.
“What? Did someone call me?”
“Oh, just spam, I think!” Chelsea gives Sarah a pointed look, full of meaning you don’t understand. “Right, Sarah?”
Sarah hesitates, looking between you and Chelsea for a moment before agreeing with a slow, “Right…”
You roll your eyes but move on, distracted by chit-chat and the arrival of the waiter again.
Two shots later, you find yourself wondering if you can even stand, head bobbing side to side as you giggle. You jump when you feel a hand land on your shoulder, almost falling out of your chair to squint at the culprit through your blurry vision. Luckily, he catches you before you end up on the floor.
“Brendon?” You blink hazily at him, and his grip on your shoulder tightens just a bit. “What are you doing here?” You’re drunk enough that you don’t notice the giggling of your friends, but Brendon obviously notices, his eyes narrowing a bit at them.
“I heard you might need some help.” He says, eyes returning to yours. Your stomach twists in the most pleasant way, and you can’t stop a drunk grin from taking over your face.
“You came here for me?” Your voice, as slurred as it is, drips sickly sweet like honey.
Brendon eyes you, then your friends, who giggle and whisper between each other, not nearly as sly as they think they are.
“It seems I did.” He steps closer to your chair, and you find yourself leaning toward him, your forehead bumping his hip. He gets a look on his face, one you’d definitely question if you were sober, and says, “I wanted to make sure you were safe.”
You melt, and so do your friends. Brendon has to stop himself from sneering at them, reaching for your hand and encouraging you to stand.
“Let’s get you home.” He tells you, and your body follows him like it’s as easy as breathing. Sarah and Chelsea giggle and wink at you, giving you a silly wave goodbye.
“You should probably take her to your house!” Chelsea calls out behind you as you walk away. Brendon puts his hand on your back to guide you and it makes your knees feel even weaker than they already do. “And probably in your bed too! Just to make sure she’s okay!”
Brendon lets out a huff and rolls his eyes. “C’mon, let’s go to my car.”
He guides you to it, surprisingly close to the bar given how busy everything is. You find yourself wishing you were sober so you could try to find more details of him in the car. You always want to learn more about him.
Your drunk mouth decides to voice these thoughts out loud, and the corner of Brendon’s lips raise.
“Are you really going to take me to your place?” You ask him then, practically giddy to be sitting next to him as he pulls off and starts heading down the road.
He gives you a side eye. “Not while you’re drunk like this.” You pout, and he scoffs.
“We can talk about it more on Monday when you’re sober and not at risk of throwing up. Now, give me your address.”
Genuinely furious about what generative AI has done to creative spaces and I don't think it gets talked about enough in the right way.
Not the slop itself. The atmosphere. The fact that readers are now scared and defensive and running everything through a mental checklist of "does this seem AI." The fact that writers have to screenshot their drafts and document their process just to prove they're a real person who made a real thing. The fact that improving at your craft, getting more precise, more intentional, more layered, now registers as suspicious to some people because that's exactly what the generators are copyinf.
It has poisoned the default trust between creators and audiences and that trust was not theirs to take.
And the people paying for it are not the companies. It's the writers who almost didn't post. The artists who did post and got accused anyway. The people who spent years getting genuinely good at something and are now having that thrown back at them as evidence of wrongdoing. The people who are so tired of defending themselves that they're starting to wonder if it's even worth making anything at all.
That's the damage. That's what's actually been done here. And the people responsible for it don't care and will never care and that makes me so angry I don't quite have the words for it.
We didn't ask for this. We didn't deserve it. And we're allowed to be furious about it.
poly!wolfstar x fem!reader who gets everything she wanted (plus one) ✿ 1.9k words
summary: your promenade with Lord Lupin ends with the promise of a proposal, a first kiss, and the first of many important conversations
cw: bridgerton-inspired au, fem!reader, no sirius in this one though they do talk about him obvi
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one two three four five six seven eight
The promenade doesn’t solve everything. It does, though, allow Lord Lupin to regain your mother’s favor.
A (very large, very expensive) bouquet of flowers, a beautifully rehearsed apology, and open talks of a proposal will do that. By his departure, which is far later than it should be given he is a respectable gentleman and you are still an unmarried woman, your mother’s face is glowing with a smile of pure joy that almost matches your own.
“You will return in the morning?” She asks him, her eyes very pointed. There’s a silent question of ‘with a ring?’ behind them, and Remus gives her a nod and a knowing smile.
“Yes, I will be here as early as you will allow me inside.” This makes your mother laugh, but your own lips stay silently locked in a grin, eyes solely on him. It’s like you haven’t even heard his words, instead just relishing in the feeling of pure, ecstatic joy. You’re getting everything you’ve ever wanted, and more than you’ve ever thought was possible.
“Mother,” Your voice chimes like church bells when you speak, and your mother looks toward you. “I would like a moment alone with Lord Lupin, please.”
Four eyebrows shoot up, Remus’ own matching your mother’s, at your request. It’s especially bold given that your mother was originally upset with him because you had been alone with him unchaperoned previously. When her head slowly tilts, and her shoulders fall just slightly, you seem to realize she’s going to allow it, taking a step closer to him.
“I promise we won’t leave the main hall.” You know exactly what to say to convince her, and your mother gives a resigned sigh. She agrees, though reluctantly, and informs you that the staff will be listening, and any unsavory behavior would be reported to her and stopped immediately.
Your victorious grin should perhaps be a warning sign to Remus. The fact that you seem to always know exactly what to say to get what you want should make him concerned, but it doesn’t. In fact, the shine in your eyes reminds him of Sirius in that moment, and his heart softens instead.
You step closer to him the instant your mother’s footsteps are out of your hearing range. Your eyes, shining up at him with joy and love, trace over his features before you ask in a gentle whisper, “You are not toying with my heart? You will propose tomorrow?”
He raises an eyebrow, but his smile is soft, “Do you not believe me?”
“Of course I do.” You gently shake your head and give him an equally soft smile in return. You reach out to fix his jacket, fingers trailing over the fabric that lays atop his chest. Far closer than you should be, far later at night than it should be. You two are already destined to have people talking, let alone when you bring in a scorned heir as a third.
He gently grabs your wrist, “I am going to ask your father for your hand.” He flattens your palm against his chest, your pulse fluttering under the pads of his fingers, “And then I am going to ask you to be my wife.”
“And I’m going to say yes.” Your smile has turned cheeky, and in that moment Remus knows he’ll never have a second of peace in his life with you and Sirius around.
“Yes, but I still have to ask.” If he puffs up his chest a bit under your hand, he’ll never admit it. “For propriety’s sake, you understand.”
You giggle softly, and step even closer. It’s the closest you’ve ever been to him, to any man, ever. It’s intoxicating, even just the scent of him alone. Something spicy with a hint of musk. His cheeks flush, but he doesn’t pull away. In fact, his other hand moves to your back. Not too far down to be considered indecent, just barely below where it would be if you two were dancing. Some deep part of you wishes it would move lower.
“You’re so beautiful.” His fingers leave your wrist in favor of brushing some hair from your face. His touch lingers there, and you lean into it.
“Remus…”
“You have bewitched me, body and soul.” The corner of his lip perks up as he recites the Pride and Prejudice quote, the same one you’d quoted to him once when he’d called on you during tea. It hadn’t been a subtle hint when you’d said it, though you can’t find yourself to be anything other than in love with him when he repeats it now, not an ounce of embarrassment found in the swell of your emotions.
Your hands find his cheeks, cupping his face between them. You don’t seem to find yourself shy in touching him like this, though given how long he’s taken to finally produce a proposal, maybe you’re a bit impatient. His eyes close for a moment and he inhales like he’s breathing you in.
“We have a lot to speak about.” You say, brushing the pad of your thumb over the apple of his cheek. You lower your voice to a whisper when you continue, “The three of us.”
Remus’ lips raise in a soft smile, and you can feel the movement of his cheeks under the skin of your palm.
“Quite.” He agrees. “Though I think there will be ample time for the three of us to speak properly fairly soon.”
You wish that moment could be right now. You want to keep speaking like this, with his body so close to yours that if he pressed any closer, your hips might touch. The thought makes you feel hot, and there’s a million things you wish to ask him but none of them make it past your tongue.
The only one that slips through is, “You’re sure you’ll be returning in the morning, yes?”
Remus presses his lips forward, a gentle kiss bestowed on the edge of your thumb, and it makes your whole body tingle. His eyes meet yours, assurance and love so clear within his irises.
“As I told your mother, as early as you will allow me inside.”
“Will you be returning to London tonight?” Your other question is hidden below it, silent in order to be safe from the potentially prying ears of the staff: Will you be returning to Sirius tonight?
Remus nods, his long fingers coming to gently circle your wrists, guiding your hands to the nape of his neck. “I will.”
Your fingers feel the soft tufts of hair there, and your eyes trace over his features. You’ve been close to him but never in a way that has lit up your insides the way they are right now. Your heart feels like it might explode and there’s an odd warmth in your lower belly that only seems to grow as Remus leans closer. His lips brush the slightest bit against your own when he whispers and you have to force yourself to listen.
“I think he will be quite pleased that you’re agreeing to my proposal.” As he whispers, one of his hands slides to your back again, lower than before. It makes your breath catch and your voice is airy and strained when you respond.
“I am sorry for… running away.” His nose bumps yours and your brain struggles to form coherent words. “I was just… overwhelmed.”
“I am sorry for how I handled it.” Remus pulls back just enough so that he can look between each of your eyes, a sincerity shining so strong within his own that it somehow makes your heart ache even worse. “I should’ve been more honest with you. Especially given that I was already planning to make you my wife.”
“But how could you have been?” Your tongue darts out to wet your lips and his eyes follow the entire movement. “I know you both must think me naive, but I am not naive enough to think that your relationship with Sirius is something you can just… share. It was unexpected, and I did not… know that was a possibility. But I am not upset.”
A sound that must be a sigh of relief presses out of his parted lips, the slightest bit of tension easing from his shoulders. “The Heavens have truly blessed us with you. I was prepared to stow Sirius away somewhere for the rest of our lives, only seeing him when I had time to escape life in Mayfair. Which would not have been fair to him or to my wife.”
You don’t know what possession must come over your body as you look at him, a boldness that shocks even yourself, but you close the gap between you instead of responding.
Your first kiss is not how you assumed it would be. You’ve thought about it thousands of times, especially late at night trying to fall asleep, your mind creating beautiful fantasies instead of counting sheep. You wondered if it might be at your wedding, dozens of people watching. You wondered if it might be hidden away, a secret shared between you and someone far below your stature, love overcoming the anxiety of being caught. You’ve even wondered if it might never happen, especially after your first (and second) season when not a single one of the men caught your eye.
It comes to you as easy as breathing. Remus’ lips are slightly chapped, the barest hint of brandy still on his lips.
It is chaste, though still highly improper. Remus pulls away first, much to your dismay, but then he presses his lips to your forehead in a way that settles you and is so sweet it almost brings tears to your eyes. You swallow back the lump in your throat.
“Well, it is good you finally saw sense about me, then.” Your voice is more stable than it should be given how weak your knees feel. You can feel his breath on your face when he chuckles lowly.
“Sirius would have convinced me to propose to you even if I hadn’t already decided. He’s quite taken with you.”
You can’t help the smile that takes over your lips. “Have you seen my painting?”
Remus shakes his head. “No. He won’t let me see it until it’s perfect, he says. He’s asked if I can whisk you away so you can be his muse and he can perfect his work.”
“I already believed it to be perfect.” You say and Remus nods at your words like he agrees with you.
“Sirius is very hard on himself, the harshest critic I have ever encountered. But his art is magnificent each and every time, including your painting, I’d wager.”
You miss Sirius, and you find yourself impatient for the day that the three of you can have a conversation alone. You feel like you’ve wasted an opportunity running away from Remus’ London apartment, but you cannot fault yourself for having ended up here, engaged to him.
“I will see you in the morning.” Lord Lupin bows his head in your direction as his carriage pulls up in front of the door. The sun has long vanished below the horizon, the moon shining brightly from its place amongst the stars.
“I will be expecting you.” You tell him, unable to hide your grin. “I cannot wait.”
Hiiii I dont know if you still take requests for Park the Shark but I would like to give one!!
I’d love your headcanons or blurb about Park being possessive and jealous over very kind and warm younger!nurse :)
He was enamored by her when she first started at PTMC and everyone was like “wow Park has feelings?” She’s always super kind and warm to him because she didn’t realize he was an intimidating person to everyone else. He’s always concerned about where she is and if she’s okay like when she’s out with her friends because duh she’s drop dead gorgeous and he knows guys will throw themselves at her. And ofc concerned about her while she’s at work :)))
lmao my brain took this and ran with it so this is what i have lmao :) i hope you enjoy!
dr. brendon park x nurse!reader who can't stop talking about him ✿ 1.5k words
summary: you're out getting drunk with your friends and you can't stop talking about brendon. one of them decides to play matchmaker
cw: fem!nurse!reader, alcohol/drinking, reader has two friends named sarah and chelsea who do not work in the ED, reader is a silly drunk and is very obviously in love with brendon
the pitt masterlist
°˖✧✿✧˖°
You don’t understand what grudge everyone seems to have against Dr. Park.
Sorry, Brendon. He gets antsy when you call him by anything other than his first name.
And that’s weird, at least according to everyone you work with. You’d been scared to meet him at first, given all of the warnings and low whispers you’d heard about him on your first few shifts.
‘He’s horrible.’ One of the other nurses had told you with a shiver, her elbows knocking against yours where you lean on the nurse’s station counter. ‘He’s got these eyes and it’s like he can see directly into your soul.’
‘He wants to eat all of us alive.’ Dr. Whitaker had whispered once when Dr. Park had come up as a topic of conversation during surgery. It was enough to make your heart race at any mention of him.
But then… you’d met him. And sure, you can’t argue that he’s not intimidating. His eyes constantly narrowed in suspicion, his jaw sharp and clenched, the tendons in his neck pulsing with every movement of his body. But you understand him, or maybe it’s that no one else looks past the “shark” exterior to see what’s underneath.
The overwhelming desire to be successful, focused, calm even in the worst of storms. The fear of failure, the anxiety that he or someone else might majorly fuck up and he can’t fix it. The vicious growl in his voice that really means he’s scared to let anyone get too close.
You looked at him, and you saw bits and pieces of yourself.
And you think maybe he saw the same in you, because you became his right hand any time he had to consult in the ED. Maybe part of that was against your will, everyone knows that he doesn’t speak down to you the way he does everyone else. You stand beside him like you’ve always been there, predicting his moves before he can even make them. You hand him the right tools at the right time. You move in flow with him, and he always leaves the perfect amount of space right at his side for you.
So, no, you don’t understand what grudge everyone else seems to have against him.
“Wow.” One of your friends, Sarah, finishes off her drink, eyes scanning you up and down from her place across the table as you finish speaking. “Seems to me like you really like this Dr. Park guy.”
You feel heat bloom in your cheeks, your fingers twisting your straw back and forth in your already empty cocktail glass. “It’s not like that, okay? Brendon and I just work well together.”
Chelsea, your other friend, meets Sarah’s eyes and they both grin brightly. “Brendon…” They both repeat his name, a teasing lilt in their voices. You swat your hand at them.
“Stop it!” You shake your head, rolling your eyes as you try to ignore the butterflies erupting in your stomach. You sit up a bit when you realize the waiter is approaching your table, and you send your friends a look. “The waiter is coming.”
“Oh! Let’s do shots!” Sarah suggests despite the slight slur already present in her speech. Chelsea nods excitedly, already leaning over Sarah to tell the waiter, who nods and takes the empty glasses from in front of you. You roll your eyes at them, but you don’t fight when the shots come to the table.
It’s not long before you decide to go to the bathroom, already a little dizzy when you stand up, steadying yourself on the table.
“I’m going to the bathroom.” You announce, pointing toward it. Sarah and Chelsea nod, waving you off as you go. The two of them sit there, debating ordering another round of shots, when they hear a phone ringing.
It’s your phone, left face up on the table. And the name on screen reads Brendon Park.
Sarah gasps, whacking Chelsea on the arm to get her attention, gesturing to your phone. “It’s that doctor! He’s calling her!”
Chelsea’s smile turns mischievous, and her nimble fingers pluck the phone from the table top.
“Wait, Chelsea don’t-" Sarah tries to protest but Chelsea holds up a finger to silence her, raising your phone to her ear.
“Helloooo Brendon!” She greets brightly, her voice only slightly less slurred than Sarah’s.
“Who is this?” A masculine voice answers from the other line. Chelsea covers the microphone with her hand, looking at Sarah.
“He sounds hot!” She whispers, before clearing her throat and continuing, “I’m Chelsea, I’m just answering the phone because she’s not at the table…” All of her words are long and wobbly.
“Where is she?” His voice is almost snappy now, something that makes Chelsea’s face morph into an even more mischievous look. Sarah tries to shake her head, but Chelsea waves her off again.
“Hmm… I don’t know… She hasn’t been at the table for a while…” She watches as you exit the bathroom, leaning away from Sarah as she tries to grab the phone from her hand. “She was pretty drunk though, you should probably come get her!”
Chelsea can already hear Brendan moving a bit frantically around on the other end, presumably getting his things together to come find you. Her thoughts are confirmed when he bites out a clipped, “Where are you?”
Chelsea quickly gives him the name of the bar as you approach the table again, then an “okay, bye!” and tosses your phone back on the table. You sit down, an eyebrow raised as you look between the two of them.
“What? Did someone call me?”
“Oh, just spam, I think!” Chelsea gives Sarah a pointed look, full of meaning you don’t understand. “Right, Sarah?”
Sarah hesitates, looking between you and Chelsea for a moment before agreeing with a slow, “Right…”
You roll your eyes but move on, distracted by chit-chat and the arrival of the waiter again.
Two shots later, you find yourself wondering if you can even stand, head bobbing side to side as you giggle. You jump when you feel a hand land on your shoulder, almost falling out of your chair to squint at the culprit through your blurry vision. Luckily, he catches you before you end up on the floor.
“Brendon?” You blink hazily at him, and his grip on your shoulder tightens just a bit. “What are you doing here?” You’re drunk enough that you don’t notice the giggling of your friends, but Brendon obviously notices, his eyes narrowing a bit at them.
“I heard you might need some help.” He says, eyes returning to yours. Your stomach twists in the most pleasant way, and you can’t stop a drunk grin from taking over your face.
“You came here for me?” Your voice, as slurred as it is, drips sickly sweet like honey.
Brendon eyes you, then your friends, who giggle and whisper between each other, not nearly as sly as they think they are.
“It seems I did.” He steps closer to your chair, and you find yourself leaning toward him, your forehead bumping his hip. He gets a look on his face, one you’d definitely question if you were sober, and says, “I wanted to make sure you were safe.”
You melt, and so do your friends. Brendon has to stop himself from sneering at them, reaching for your hand and encouraging you to stand.
“Let’s get you home.” He tells you, and your body follows him like it’s as easy as breathing. Sarah and Chelsea giggle and wink at you, giving you a silly wave goodbye.
“You should probably take her to your house!” Chelsea calls out behind you as you walk away. Brendon puts his hand on your back to guide you and it makes your knees feel even weaker than they already do. “And probably in your bed too! Just to make sure she’s okay!”
Brendon lets out a huff and rolls his eyes. “C’mon, let’s go to my car.”
He guides you to it, surprisingly close to the bar given how busy everything is. You find yourself wishing you were sober so you could try to find more details of him in the car. You always want to learn more about him.
Your drunk mouth decides to voice these thoughts out loud, and the corner of Brendon’s lips raise.
“Are you really going to take me to your place?” You ask him then, practically giddy to be sitting next to him as he pulls off and starts heading down the road.
He gives you a side eye. “Not while you’re drunk like this.” You pout, and he scoffs.
“We can talk about it more on Monday when you’re sober and not at risk of throwing up. Now, give me your address.”
Hiiii I dont know if you still take requests for Park the Shark but I would like to give one!!
I’d love your headcanons or blurb about Park being possessive and jealous over very kind and warm younger!nurse :)
He was enamored by her when she first started at PTMC and everyone was like “wow Park has feelings?” She’s always super kind and warm to him because she didn’t realize he was an intimidating person to everyone else. He’s always concerned about where she is and if she’s okay like when she’s out with her friends because duh she’s drop dead gorgeous and he knows guys will throw themselves at her. And ofc concerned about her while she’s at work :)))
lmao my brain took this and ran with it so this is what i have lmao :) i hope you enjoy!
dr. brendon park x nurse!reader who can't stop talking about him ✿ 1.5k words
summary: you're out getting drunk with your friends and you can't stop talking about brendon. one of them decides to play matchmaker
cw: fem!nurse!reader, alcohol/drinking, reader has two friends named sarah and chelsea who do not work in the ED, reader is a silly drunk and is very obviously in love with brendon
the pitt masterlist
°˖✧✿✧˖°
You don’t understand what grudge everyone seems to have against Dr. Park.
Sorry, Brendon. He gets antsy when you call him by anything other than his first name.
And that’s weird, at least according to everyone you work with. You’d been scared to meet him at first, given all of the warnings and low whispers you’d heard about him on your first few shifts.
‘He’s horrible.’ One of the other nurses had told you with a shiver, her elbows knocking against yours where you lean on the nurse’s station counter. ‘He’s got these eyes and it’s like he can see directly into your soul.’
‘He wants to eat all of us alive.’ Dr. Whitaker had whispered once when Dr. Park had come up as a topic of conversation during surgery. It was enough to make your heart race at any mention of him.
But then… you’d met him. And sure, you can’t argue that he’s not intimidating. His eyes constantly narrowed in suspicion, his jaw sharp and clenched, the tendons in his neck pulsing with every movement of his body. But you understand him, or maybe it’s that no one else looks past the “shark” exterior to see what’s underneath.
The overwhelming desire to be successful, focused, calm even in the worst of storms. The fear of failure, the anxiety that he or someone else might majorly fuck up and he can’t fix it. The vicious growl in his voice that really means he’s scared to let anyone get too close.
You looked at him, and you saw bits and pieces of yourself.
And you think maybe he saw the same in you, because you became his right hand any time he had to consult in the ED. Maybe part of that was against your will, everyone knows that he doesn’t speak down to you the way he does everyone else. You stand beside him like you’ve always been there, predicting his moves before he can even make them. You hand him the right tools at the right time. You move in flow with him, and he always leaves the perfect amount of space right at his side for you.
So, no, you don’t understand what grudge everyone else seems to have against him.
“Wow.” One of your friends, Sarah, finishes off her drink, eyes scanning you up and down from her place across the table as you finish speaking. “Seems to me like you really like this Dr. Park guy.”
You feel heat bloom in your cheeks, your fingers twisting your straw back and forth in your already empty cocktail glass. “It’s not like that, okay? Brendon and I just work well together.”
Chelsea, your other friend, meets Sarah’s eyes and they both grin brightly. “Brendon…” They both repeat his name, a teasing lilt in their voices. You swat your hand at them.
“Stop it!” You shake your head, rolling your eyes as you try to ignore the butterflies erupting in your stomach. You sit up a bit when you realize the waiter is approaching your table, and you send your friends a look. “The waiter is coming.”
“Oh! Let’s do shots!” Sarah suggests despite the slight slur already present in her speech. Chelsea nods excitedly, already leaning over Sarah to tell the waiter, who nods and takes the empty glasses from in front of you. You roll your eyes at them, but you don’t fight when the shots come to the table.
It’s not long before you decide to go to the bathroom, already a little dizzy when you stand up, steadying yourself on the table.
“I’m going to the bathroom.” You announce, pointing toward it. Sarah and Chelsea nod, waving you off as you go. The two of them sit there, debating ordering another round of shots, when they hear a phone ringing.
It’s your phone, left face up on the table. And the name on screen reads Brendon Park.
Sarah gasps, whacking Chelsea on the arm to get her attention, gesturing to your phone. “It’s that doctor! He’s calling her!”
Chelsea’s smile turns mischievous, and her nimble fingers pluck the phone from the table top.
“Wait, Chelsea don’t-" Sarah tries to protest but Chelsea holds up a finger to silence her, raising your phone to her ear.
“Helloooo Brendon!” She greets brightly, her voice only slightly less slurred than Sarah’s.
“Who is this?” A masculine voice answers from the other line. Chelsea covers the microphone with her hand, looking at Sarah.
“He sounds hot!” She whispers, before clearing her throat and continuing, “I’m Chelsea, I’m just answering the phone because she’s not at the table…” All of her words are long and wobbly.
“Where is she?” His voice is almost snappy now, something that makes Chelsea’s face morph into an even more mischievous look. Sarah tries to shake her head, but Chelsea waves her off again.
“Hmm… I don’t know… She hasn’t been at the table for a while…” She watches as you exit the bathroom, leaning away from Sarah as she tries to grab the phone from her hand. “She was pretty drunk though, you should probably come get her!”
Chelsea can already hear Brendan moving a bit frantically around on the other end, presumably getting his things together to come find you. Her thoughts are confirmed when he bites out a clipped, “Where are you?”
Chelsea quickly gives him the name of the bar as you approach the table again, then an “okay, bye!” and tosses your phone back on the table. You sit down, an eyebrow raised as you look between the two of them.
“What? Did someone call me?”
“Oh, just spam, I think!” Chelsea gives Sarah a pointed look, full of meaning you don’t understand. “Right, Sarah?”
Sarah hesitates, looking between you and Chelsea for a moment before agreeing with a slow, “Right…”
You roll your eyes but move on, distracted by chit-chat and the arrival of the waiter again.
Two shots later, you find yourself wondering if you can even stand, head bobbing side to side as you giggle. You jump when you feel a hand land on your shoulder, almost falling out of your chair to squint at the culprit through your blurry vision. Luckily, he catches you before you end up on the floor.
“Brendon?” You blink hazily at him, and his grip on your shoulder tightens just a bit. “What are you doing here?” You’re drunk enough that you don’t notice the giggling of your friends, but Brendon obviously notices, his eyes narrowing a bit at them.
“I heard you might need some help.” He says, eyes returning to yours. Your stomach twists in the most pleasant way, and you can’t stop a drunk grin from taking over your face.
“You came here for me?” Your voice, as slurred as it is, drips sickly sweet like honey.
Brendon eyes you, then your friends, who giggle and whisper between each other, not nearly as sly as they think they are.
“It seems I did.” He steps closer to your chair, and you find yourself leaning toward him, your forehead bumping his hip. He gets a look on his face, one you’d definitely question if you were sober, and says, “I wanted to make sure you were safe.”
You melt, and so do your friends. Brendon has to stop himself from sneering at them, reaching for your hand and encouraging you to stand.
“Let’s get you home.” He tells you, and your body follows him like it’s as easy as breathing. Sarah and Chelsea giggle and wink at you, giving you a silly wave goodbye.
“You should probably take her to your house!” Chelsea calls out behind you as you walk away. Brendon puts his hand on your back to guide you and it makes your knees feel even weaker than they already do. “And probably in your bed too! Just to make sure she’s okay!”
Brendon lets out a huff and rolls his eyes. “C’mon, let’s go to my car.”
He guides you to it, surprisingly close to the bar given how busy everything is. You find yourself wishing you were sober so you could try to find more details of him in the car. You always want to learn more about him.
Your drunk mouth decides to voice these thoughts out loud, and the corner of Brendon’s lips raise.
“Are you really going to take me to your place?” You ask him then, practically giddy to be sitting next to him as he pulls off and starts heading down the road.
He gives you a side eye. “Not while you’re drunk like this.” You pout, and he scoffs.
“We can talk about it more on Monday when you’re sober and not at risk of throwing up. Now, give me your address.”
Hiiii I dont know if you still take requests for Park the Shark but I would like to give one!!
I’d love your headcanons or blurb about Park being possessive and jealous over very kind and warm younger!nurse :)
He was enamored by her when she first started at PTMC and everyone was like “wow Park has feelings?” She’s always super kind and warm to him because she didn’t realize he was an intimidating person to everyone else. He’s always concerned about where she is and if she’s okay like when she’s out with her friends because duh she’s drop dead gorgeous and he knows guys will throw themselves at her. And ofc concerned about her while she’s at work :)))
lmao my brain took this and ran with it so this is what i have lmao :) i hope you enjoy!
dr. brendon park x nurse!reader who can't stop talking about him ✿ 1.5k words
summary: you're out getting drunk with your friends and you can't stop talking about brendon. one of them decides to play matchmaker
cw: fem!nurse!reader, alcohol/drinking, reader has two friends named sarah and chelsea who do not work in the ED, reader is a silly drunk and is very obviously in love with brendon
the pitt masterlist
°˖✧✿✧˖°
You don’t understand what grudge everyone seems to have against Dr. Park.
Sorry, Brendon. He gets antsy when you call him by anything other than his first name.
And that’s weird, at least according to everyone you work with. You’d been scared to meet him at first, given all of the warnings and low whispers you’d heard about him on your first few shifts.
‘He’s horrible.’ One of the other nurses had told you with a shiver, her elbows knocking against yours where you lean on the nurse’s station counter. ‘He’s got these eyes and it’s like he can see directly into your soul.’
‘He wants to eat all of us alive.’ Dr. Whitaker had whispered once when Dr. Park had come up as a topic of conversation during surgery. It was enough to make your heart race at any mention of him.
But then… you’d met him. And sure, you can’t argue that he’s not intimidating. His eyes constantly narrowed in suspicion, his jaw sharp and clenched, the tendons in his neck pulsing with every movement of his body. But you understand him, or maybe it’s that no one else looks past the “shark” exterior to see what’s underneath.
The overwhelming desire to be successful, focused, calm even in the worst of storms. The fear of failure, the anxiety that he or someone else might majorly fuck up and he can’t fix it. The vicious growl in his voice that really means he’s scared to let anyone get too close.
You looked at him, and you saw bits and pieces of yourself.
And you think maybe he saw the same in you, because you became his right hand any time he had to consult in the ED. Maybe part of that was against your will, everyone knows that he doesn’t speak down to you the way he does everyone else. You stand beside him like you’ve always been there, predicting his moves before he can even make them. You hand him the right tools at the right time. You move in flow with him, and he always leaves the perfect amount of space right at his side for you.
So, no, you don’t understand what grudge everyone else seems to have against him.
“Wow.” One of your friends, Sarah, finishes off her drink, eyes scanning you up and down from her place across the table as you finish speaking. “Seems to me like you really like this Dr. Park guy.”
You feel heat bloom in your cheeks, your fingers twisting your straw back and forth in your already empty cocktail glass. “It’s not like that, okay? Brendon and I just work well together.”
Chelsea, your other friend, meets Sarah’s eyes and they both grin brightly. “Brendon…” They both repeat his name, a teasing lilt in their voices. You swat your hand at them.
“Stop it!” You shake your head, rolling your eyes as you try to ignore the butterflies erupting in your stomach. You sit up a bit when you realize the waiter is approaching your table, and you send your friends a look. “The waiter is coming.”
“Oh! Let’s do shots!” Sarah suggests despite the slight slur already present in her speech. Chelsea nods excitedly, already leaning over Sarah to tell the waiter, who nods and takes the empty glasses from in front of you. You roll your eyes at them, but you don’t fight when the shots come to the table.
It’s not long before you decide to go to the bathroom, already a little dizzy when you stand up, steadying yourself on the table.
“I’m going to the bathroom.” You announce, pointing toward it. Sarah and Chelsea nod, waving you off as you go. The two of them sit there, debating ordering another round of shots, when they hear a phone ringing.
It’s your phone, left face up on the table. And the name on screen reads Brendon Park.
Sarah gasps, whacking Chelsea on the arm to get her attention, gesturing to your phone. “It’s that doctor! He’s calling her!”
Chelsea’s smile turns mischievous, and her nimble fingers pluck the phone from the table top.
“Wait, Chelsea don’t-" Sarah tries to protest but Chelsea holds up a finger to silence her, raising your phone to her ear.
“Helloooo Brendon!” She greets brightly, her voice only slightly less slurred than Sarah’s.
“Who is this?” A masculine voice answers from the other line. Chelsea covers the microphone with her hand, looking at Sarah.
“He sounds hot!” She whispers, before clearing her throat and continuing, “I’m Chelsea, I’m just answering the phone because she’s not at the table…” All of her words are long and wobbly.
“Where is she?” His voice is almost snappy now, something that makes Chelsea’s face morph into an even more mischievous look. Sarah tries to shake her head, but Chelsea waves her off again.
“Hmm… I don’t know… She hasn’t been at the table for a while…” She watches as you exit the bathroom, leaning away from Sarah as she tries to grab the phone from her hand. “She was pretty drunk though, you should probably come get her!”
Chelsea can already hear Brendan moving a bit frantically around on the other end, presumably getting his things together to come find you. Her thoughts are confirmed when he bites out a clipped, “Where are you?”
Chelsea quickly gives him the name of the bar as you approach the table again, then an “okay, bye!” and tosses your phone back on the table. You sit down, an eyebrow raised as you look between the two of them.
“What? Did someone call me?”
“Oh, just spam, I think!” Chelsea gives Sarah a pointed look, full of meaning you don’t understand. “Right, Sarah?”
Sarah hesitates, looking between you and Chelsea for a moment before agreeing with a slow, “Right…”
You roll your eyes but move on, distracted by chit-chat and the arrival of the waiter again.
Two shots later, you find yourself wondering if you can even stand, head bobbing side to side as you giggle. You jump when you feel a hand land on your shoulder, almost falling out of your chair to squint at the culprit through your blurry vision. Luckily, he catches you before you end up on the floor.
“Brendon?” You blink hazily at him, and his grip on your shoulder tightens just a bit. “What are you doing here?” You’re drunk enough that you don’t notice the giggling of your friends, but Brendon obviously notices, his eyes narrowing a bit at them.
“I heard you might need some help.” He says, eyes returning to yours. Your stomach twists in the most pleasant way, and you can’t stop a drunk grin from taking over your face.
“You came here for me?” Your voice, as slurred as it is, drips sickly sweet like honey.
Brendon eyes you, then your friends, who giggle and whisper between each other, not nearly as sly as they think they are.
“It seems I did.” He steps closer to your chair, and you find yourself leaning toward him, your forehead bumping his hip. He gets a look on his face, one you’d definitely question if you were sober, and says, “I wanted to make sure you were safe.”
You melt, and so do your friends. Brendon has to stop himself from sneering at them, reaching for your hand and encouraging you to stand.
“Let’s get you home.” He tells you, and your body follows him like it’s as easy as breathing. Sarah and Chelsea giggle and wink at you, giving you a silly wave goodbye.
“You should probably take her to your house!” Chelsea calls out behind you as you walk away. Brendon puts his hand on your back to guide you and it makes your knees feel even weaker than they already do. “And probably in your bed too! Just to make sure she’s okay!”
Brendon lets out a huff and rolls his eyes. “C’mon, let’s go to my car.”
He guides you to it, surprisingly close to the bar given how busy everything is. You find yourself wishing you were sober so you could try to find more details of him in the car. You always want to learn more about him.
Your drunk mouth decides to voice these thoughts out loud, and the corner of Brendon’s lips raise.
“Are you really going to take me to your place?” You ask him then, practically giddy to be sitting next to him as he pulls off and starts heading down the road.
He gives you a side eye. “Not while you’re drunk like this.” You pout, and he scoffs.
“We can talk about it more on Monday when you’re sober and not at risk of throwing up. Now, give me your address.”
Hiiii I dont know if you still take requests for Park the Shark but I would like to give one!!
I’d love your headcanons or blurb about Park being possessive and jealous over very kind and warm younger!nurse :)
He was enamored by her when she first started at PTMC and everyone was like “wow Park has feelings?” She’s always super kind and warm to him because she didn’t realize he was an intimidating person to everyone else. He’s always concerned about where she is and if she’s okay like when she’s out with her friends because duh she’s drop dead gorgeous and he knows guys will throw themselves at her. And ofc concerned about her while she’s at work :)))
lmao my brain took this and ran with it so this is what i have lmao :) i hope you enjoy!
dr. brendon park x nurse!reader who can't stop talking about him ✿ 1.5k words
summary: you're out getting drunk with your friends and you can't stop talking about brendon. one of them decides to play matchmaker
cw: fem!nurse!reader, alcohol/drinking, reader has two friends named sarah and chelsea who do not work in the ED, reader is a silly drunk and is very obviously in love with brendon
the pitt masterlist
°˖✧✿✧˖°
You don’t understand what grudge everyone seems to have against Dr. Park.
Sorry, Brendon. He gets antsy when you call him by anything other than his first name.
And that’s weird, at least according to everyone you work with. You’d been scared to meet him at first, given all of the warnings and low whispers you’d heard about him on your first few shifts.
‘He’s horrible.’ One of the other nurses had told you with a shiver, her elbows knocking against yours where you lean on the nurse’s station counter. ‘He’s got these eyes and it’s like he can see directly into your soul.’
‘He wants to eat all of us alive.’ Dr. Whitaker had whispered once when Dr. Park had come up as a topic of conversation during surgery. It was enough to make your heart race at any mention of him.
But then… you’d met him. And sure, you can’t argue that he’s not intimidating. His eyes constantly narrowed in suspicion, his jaw sharp and clenched, the tendons in his neck pulsing with every movement of his body. But you understand him, or maybe it’s that no one else looks past the “shark” exterior to see what’s underneath.
The overwhelming desire to be successful, focused, calm even in the worst of storms. The fear of failure, the anxiety that he or someone else might majorly fuck up and he can’t fix it. The vicious growl in his voice that really means he’s scared to let anyone get too close.
You looked at him, and you saw bits and pieces of yourself.
And you think maybe he saw the same in you, because you became his right hand any time he had to consult in the ED. Maybe part of that was against your will, everyone knows that he doesn’t speak down to you the way he does everyone else. You stand beside him like you’ve always been there, predicting his moves before he can even make them. You hand him the right tools at the right time. You move in flow with him, and he always leaves the perfect amount of space right at his side for you.
So, no, you don’t understand what grudge everyone else seems to have against him.
“Wow.” One of your friends, Sarah, finishes off her drink, eyes scanning you up and down from her place across the table as you finish speaking. “Seems to me like you really like this Dr. Park guy.”
You feel heat bloom in your cheeks, your fingers twisting your straw back and forth in your already empty cocktail glass. “It’s not like that, okay? Brendon and I just work well together.”
Chelsea, your other friend, meets Sarah’s eyes and they both grin brightly. “Brendon…” They both repeat his name, a teasing lilt in their voices. You swat your hand at them.
“Stop it!” You shake your head, rolling your eyes as you try to ignore the butterflies erupting in your stomach. You sit up a bit when you realize the waiter is approaching your table, and you send your friends a look. “The waiter is coming.”
“Oh! Let’s do shots!” Sarah suggests despite the slight slur already present in her speech. Chelsea nods excitedly, already leaning over Sarah to tell the waiter, who nods and takes the empty glasses from in front of you. You roll your eyes at them, but you don’t fight when the shots come to the table.
It’s not long before you decide to go to the bathroom, already a little dizzy when you stand up, steadying yourself on the table.
“I’m going to the bathroom.” You announce, pointing toward it. Sarah and Chelsea nod, waving you off as you go. The two of them sit there, debating ordering another round of shots, when they hear a phone ringing.
It’s your phone, left face up on the table. And the name on screen reads Brendon Park.
Sarah gasps, whacking Chelsea on the arm to get her attention, gesturing to your phone. “It’s that doctor! He’s calling her!”
Chelsea’s smile turns mischievous, and her nimble fingers pluck the phone from the table top.
“Wait, Chelsea don’t-" Sarah tries to protest but Chelsea holds up a finger to silence her, raising your phone to her ear.
“Helloooo Brendon!” She greets brightly, her voice only slightly less slurred than Sarah’s.
“Who is this?” A masculine voice answers from the other line. Chelsea covers the microphone with her hand, looking at Sarah.
“He sounds hot!” She whispers, before clearing her throat and continuing, “I’m Chelsea, I’m just answering the phone because she’s not at the table…” All of her words are long and wobbly.
“Where is she?” His voice is almost snappy now, something that makes Chelsea’s face morph into an even more mischievous look. Sarah tries to shake her head, but Chelsea waves her off again.
“Hmm… I don’t know… She hasn’t been at the table for a while…” She watches as you exit the bathroom, leaning away from Sarah as she tries to grab the phone from her hand. “She was pretty drunk though, you should probably come get her!”
Chelsea can already hear Brendan moving a bit frantically around on the other end, presumably getting his things together to come find you. Her thoughts are confirmed when he bites out a clipped, “Where are you?”
Chelsea quickly gives him the name of the bar as you approach the table again, then an “okay, bye!” and tosses your phone back on the table. You sit down, an eyebrow raised as you look between the two of them.
“What? Did someone call me?”
“Oh, just spam, I think!” Chelsea gives Sarah a pointed look, full of meaning you don’t understand. “Right, Sarah?”
Sarah hesitates, looking between you and Chelsea for a moment before agreeing with a slow, “Right…”
You roll your eyes but move on, distracted by chit-chat and the arrival of the waiter again.
Two shots later, you find yourself wondering if you can even stand, head bobbing side to side as you giggle. You jump when you feel a hand land on your shoulder, almost falling out of your chair to squint at the culprit through your blurry vision. Luckily, he catches you before you end up on the floor.
“Brendon?” You blink hazily at him, and his grip on your shoulder tightens just a bit. “What are you doing here?” You’re drunk enough that you don’t notice the giggling of your friends, but Brendon obviously notices, his eyes narrowing a bit at them.
“I heard you might need some help.” He says, eyes returning to yours. Your stomach twists in the most pleasant way, and you can’t stop a drunk grin from taking over your face.
“You came here for me?” Your voice, as slurred as it is, drips sickly sweet like honey.
Brendon eyes you, then your friends, who giggle and whisper between each other, not nearly as sly as they think they are.
“It seems I did.” He steps closer to your chair, and you find yourself leaning toward him, your forehead bumping his hip. He gets a look on his face, one you’d definitely question if you were sober, and says, “I wanted to make sure you were safe.”
You melt, and so do your friends. Brendon has to stop himself from sneering at them, reaching for your hand and encouraging you to stand.
“Let’s get you home.” He tells you, and your body follows him like it’s as easy as breathing. Sarah and Chelsea giggle and wink at you, giving you a silly wave goodbye.
“You should probably take her to your house!” Chelsea calls out behind you as you walk away. Brendon puts his hand on your back to guide you and it makes your knees feel even weaker than they already do. “And probably in your bed too! Just to make sure she’s okay!”
Brendon lets out a huff and rolls his eyes. “C’mon, let’s go to my car.”
He guides you to it, surprisingly close to the bar given how busy everything is. You find yourself wishing you were sober so you could try to find more details of him in the car. You always want to learn more about him.
Your drunk mouth decides to voice these thoughts out loud, and the corner of Brendon’s lips raise.
“Are you really going to take me to your place?” You ask him then, practically giddy to be sitting next to him as he pulls off and starts heading down the road.
He gives you a side eye. “Not while you’re drunk like this.” You pout, and he scoffs.
“We can talk about it more on Monday when you’re sober and not at risk of throwing up. Now, give me your address.”
the thing about ai witch hunt is that instead of spreading awareness about why and how ai can be harmful, people focus their energy on harassing other people instead. so instead of actually achieving something, fandom space and the internet as a whole just became twice as toxic because people have found a ✨noble way✨ to tell other people to off themselves and get praises for it. you’re not helping. you’re part of the problem
Hiiii I dont know if you still take requests for Park the Shark but I would like to give one!!
I’d love your headcanons or blurb about Park being possessive and jealous over very kind and warm younger!nurse :)
He was enamored by her when she first started at PTMC and everyone was like “wow Park has feelings?” She’s always super kind and warm to him because she didn’t realize he was an intimidating person to everyone else. He’s always concerned about where she is and if she’s okay like when she’s out with her friends because duh she’s drop dead gorgeous and he knows guys will throw themselves at her. And ofc concerned about her while she’s at work :)))
lmao my brain took this and ran with it so this is what i have lmao :) i hope you enjoy!
dr. brendon park x nurse!reader who can't stop talking about him ✿ 1.5k words
summary: you're out getting drunk with your friends and you can't stop talking about brendon. one of them decides to play matchmaker
cw: fem!nurse!reader, alcohol/drinking, reader has two friends named sarah and chelsea who do not work in the ED, reader is a silly drunk and is very obviously in love with brendon
the pitt masterlist
°˖✧✿✧˖°
You don’t understand what grudge everyone seems to have against Dr. Park.
Sorry, Brendon. He gets antsy when you call him by anything other than his first name.
And that’s weird, at least according to everyone you work with. You’d been scared to meet him at first, given all of the warnings and low whispers you’d heard about him on your first few shifts.
‘He’s horrible.’ One of the other nurses had told you with a shiver, her elbows knocking against yours where you lean on the nurse’s station counter. ‘He’s got these eyes and it’s like he can see directly into your soul.’
‘He wants to eat all of us alive.’ Dr. Whitaker had whispered once when Dr. Park had come up as a topic of conversation during surgery. It was enough to make your heart race at any mention of him.
But then… you’d met him. And sure, you can’t argue that he’s not intimidating. His eyes constantly narrowed in suspicion, his jaw sharp and clenched, the tendons in his neck pulsing with every movement of his body. But you understand him, or maybe it’s that no one else looks past the “shark” exterior to see what’s underneath.
The overwhelming desire to be successful, focused, calm even in the worst of storms. The fear of failure, the anxiety that he or someone else might majorly fuck up and he can’t fix it. The vicious growl in his voice that really means he’s scared to let anyone get too close.
You looked at him, and you saw bits and pieces of yourself.
And you think maybe he saw the same in you, because you became his right hand any time he had to consult in the ED. Maybe part of that was against your will, everyone knows that he doesn’t speak down to you the way he does everyone else. You stand beside him like you’ve always been there, predicting his moves before he can even make them. You hand him the right tools at the right time. You move in flow with him, and he always leaves the perfect amount of space right at his side for you.
So, no, you don’t understand what grudge everyone else seems to have against him.
“Wow.” One of your friends, Sarah, finishes off her drink, eyes scanning you up and down from her place across the table as you finish speaking. “Seems to me like you really like this Dr. Park guy.”
You feel heat bloom in your cheeks, your fingers twisting your straw back and forth in your already empty cocktail glass. “It’s not like that, okay? Brendon and I just work well together.”
Chelsea, your other friend, meets Sarah’s eyes and they both grin brightly. “Brendon…” They both repeat his name, a teasing lilt in their voices. You swat your hand at them.
“Stop it!” You shake your head, rolling your eyes as you try to ignore the butterflies erupting in your stomach. You sit up a bit when you realize the waiter is approaching your table, and you send your friends a look. “The waiter is coming.”
“Oh! Let’s do shots!” Sarah suggests despite the slight slur already present in her speech. Chelsea nods excitedly, already leaning over Sarah to tell the waiter, who nods and takes the empty glasses from in front of you. You roll your eyes at them, but you don’t fight when the shots come to the table.
It’s not long before you decide to go to the bathroom, already a little dizzy when you stand up, steadying yourself on the table.
“I’m going to the bathroom.” You announce, pointing toward it. Sarah and Chelsea nod, waving you off as you go. The two of them sit there, debating ordering another round of shots, when they hear a phone ringing.
It’s your phone, left face up on the table. And the name on screen reads Brendon Park.
Sarah gasps, whacking Chelsea on the arm to get her attention, gesturing to your phone. “It’s that doctor! He’s calling her!”
Chelsea’s smile turns mischievous, and her nimble fingers pluck the phone from the table top.
“Wait, Chelsea don’t-" Sarah tries to protest but Chelsea holds up a finger to silence her, raising your phone to her ear.
“Helloooo Brendon!” She greets brightly, her voice only slightly less slurred than Sarah’s.
“Who is this?” A masculine voice answers from the other line. Chelsea covers the microphone with her hand, looking at Sarah.
“He sounds hot!” She whispers, before clearing her throat and continuing, “I’m Chelsea, I’m just answering the phone because she’s not at the table…” All of her words are long and wobbly.
“Where is she?” His voice is almost snappy now, something that makes Chelsea’s face morph into an even more mischievous look. Sarah tries to shake her head, but Chelsea waves her off again.
“Hmm… I don’t know… She hasn’t been at the table for a while…” She watches as you exit the bathroom, leaning away from Sarah as she tries to grab the phone from her hand. “She was pretty drunk though, you should probably come get her!”
Chelsea can already hear Brendan moving a bit frantically around on the other end, presumably getting his things together to come find you. Her thoughts are confirmed when he bites out a clipped, “Where are you?”
Chelsea quickly gives him the name of the bar as you approach the table again, then an “okay, bye!” and tosses your phone back on the table. You sit down, an eyebrow raised as you look between the two of them.
“What? Did someone call me?”
“Oh, just spam, I think!” Chelsea gives Sarah a pointed look, full of meaning you don’t understand. “Right, Sarah?”
Sarah hesitates, looking between you and Chelsea for a moment before agreeing with a slow, “Right…”
You roll your eyes but move on, distracted by chit-chat and the arrival of the waiter again.
Two shots later, you find yourself wondering if you can even stand, head bobbing side to side as you giggle. You jump when you feel a hand land on your shoulder, almost falling out of your chair to squint at the culprit through your blurry vision. Luckily, he catches you before you end up on the floor.
“Brendon?” You blink hazily at him, and his grip on your shoulder tightens just a bit. “What are you doing here?” You’re drunk enough that you don’t notice the giggling of your friends, but Brendon obviously notices, his eyes narrowing a bit at them.
“I heard you might need some help.” He says, eyes returning to yours. Your stomach twists in the most pleasant way, and you can’t stop a drunk grin from taking over your face.
“You came here for me?” Your voice, as slurred as it is, drips sickly sweet like honey.
Brendon eyes you, then your friends, who giggle and whisper between each other, not nearly as sly as they think they are.
“It seems I did.” He steps closer to your chair, and you find yourself leaning toward him, your forehead bumping his hip. He gets a look on his face, one you’d definitely question if you were sober, and says, “I wanted to make sure you were safe.”
You melt, and so do your friends. Brendon has to stop himself from sneering at them, reaching for your hand and encouraging you to stand.
“Let’s get you home.” He tells you, and your body follows him like it’s as easy as breathing. Sarah and Chelsea giggle and wink at you, giving you a silly wave goodbye.
“You should probably take her to your house!” Chelsea calls out behind you as you walk away. Brendon puts his hand on your back to guide you and it makes your knees feel even weaker than they already do. “And probably in your bed too! Just to make sure she’s okay!”
Brendon lets out a huff and rolls his eyes. “C’mon, let’s go to my car.”
He guides you to it, surprisingly close to the bar given how busy everything is. You find yourself wishing you were sober so you could try to find more details of him in the car. You always want to learn more about him.
Your drunk mouth decides to voice these thoughts out loud, and the corner of Brendon’s lips raise.
“Are you really going to take me to your place?” You ask him then, practically giddy to be sitting next to him as he pulls off and starts heading down the road.
He gives you a side eye. “Not while you’re drunk like this.” You pout, and he scoffs.
“We can talk about it more on Monday when you’re sober and not at risk of throwing up. Now, give me your address.”
poly!wolfstar x fem!reader who gets everything she wanted (plus one) ✿ 1.9k words
summary: your promenade with Lord Lupin ends with the promise of a proposal, a first kiss, and the first of many important conversations
cw: bridgerton-inspired au, fem!reader, no sirius in this one though they do talk about him obvi
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one two three four five six seven eight
The promenade doesn’t solve everything. It does, though, allow Lord Lupin to regain your mother’s favor.
A (very large, very expensive) bouquet of flowers, a beautifully rehearsed apology, and open talks of a proposal will do that. By his departure, which is far later than it should be given he is a respectable gentleman and you are still an unmarried woman, your mother’s face is glowing with a smile of pure joy that almost matches your own.
“You will return in the morning?” She asks him, her eyes very pointed. There’s a silent question of ‘with a ring?’ behind them, and Remus gives her a nod and a knowing smile.
“Yes, I will be here as early as you will allow me inside.” This makes your mother laugh, but your own lips stay silently locked in a grin, eyes solely on him. It’s like you haven’t even heard his words, instead just relishing in the feeling of pure, ecstatic joy. You’re getting everything you’ve ever wanted, and more than you’ve ever thought was possible.
“Mother,” Your voice chimes like church bells when you speak, and your mother looks toward you. “I would like a moment alone with Lord Lupin, please.”
Four eyebrows shoot up, Remus’ own matching your mother’s, at your request. It’s especially bold given that your mother was originally upset with him because you had been alone with him unchaperoned previously. When her head slowly tilts, and her shoulders fall just slightly, you seem to realize she’s going to allow it, taking a step closer to him.
“I promise we won’t leave the main hall.” You know exactly what to say to convince her, and your mother gives a resigned sigh. She agrees, though reluctantly, and informs you that the staff will be listening, and any unsavory behavior would be reported to her and stopped immediately.
Your victorious grin should perhaps be a warning sign to Remus. The fact that you seem to always know exactly what to say to get what you want should make him concerned, but it doesn’t. In fact, the shine in your eyes reminds him of Sirius in that moment, and his heart softens instead.
You step closer to him the instant your mother’s footsteps are out of your hearing range. Your eyes, shining up at him with joy and love, trace over his features before you ask in a gentle whisper, “You are not toying with my heart? You will propose tomorrow?”
He raises an eyebrow, but his smile is soft, “Do you not believe me?”
“Of course I do.” You gently shake your head and give him an equally soft smile in return. You reach out to fix his jacket, fingers trailing over the fabric that lays atop his chest. Far closer than you should be, far later at night than it should be. You two are already destined to have people talking, let alone when you bring in a scorned heir as a third.
He gently grabs your wrist, “I am going to ask your father for your hand.” He flattens your palm against his chest, your pulse fluttering under the pads of his fingers, “And then I am going to ask you to be my wife.”
“And I’m going to say yes.” Your smile has turned cheeky, and in that moment Remus knows he’ll never have a second of peace in his life with you and Sirius around.
“Yes, but I still have to ask.” If he puffs up his chest a bit under your hand, he’ll never admit it. “For propriety’s sake, you understand.”
You giggle softly, and step even closer. It’s the closest you’ve ever been to him, to any man, ever. It’s intoxicating, even just the scent of him alone. Something spicy with a hint of musk. His cheeks flush, but he doesn’t pull away. In fact, his other hand moves to your back. Not too far down to be considered indecent, just barely below where it would be if you two were dancing. Some deep part of you wishes it would move lower.
“You’re so beautiful.” His fingers leave your wrist in favor of brushing some hair from your face. His touch lingers there, and you lean into it.
“Remus…”
“You have bewitched me, body and soul.” The corner of his lip perks up as he recites the Pride and Prejudice quote, the same one you’d quoted to him once when he’d called on you during tea. It hadn’t been a subtle hint when you’d said it, though you can’t find yourself to be anything other than in love with him when he repeats it now, not an ounce of embarrassment found in the swell of your emotions.
Your hands find his cheeks, cupping his face between them. You don’t seem to find yourself shy in touching him like this, though given how long he’s taken to finally produce a proposal, maybe you’re a bit impatient. His eyes close for a moment and he inhales like he’s breathing you in.
“We have a lot to speak about.” You say, brushing the pad of your thumb over the apple of his cheek. You lower your voice to a whisper when you continue, “The three of us.”
Remus’ lips raise in a soft smile, and you can feel the movement of his cheeks under the skin of your palm.
“Quite.” He agrees. “Though I think there will be ample time for the three of us to speak properly fairly soon.”
You wish that moment could be right now. You want to keep speaking like this, with his body so close to yours that if he pressed any closer, your hips might touch. The thought makes you feel hot, and there’s a million things you wish to ask him but none of them make it past your tongue.
The only one that slips through is, “You’re sure you’ll be returning in the morning, yes?”
Remus presses his lips forward, a gentle kiss bestowed on the edge of your thumb, and it makes your whole body tingle. His eyes meet yours, assurance and love so clear within his irises.
“As I told your mother, as early as you will allow me inside.”
“Will you be returning to London tonight?” Your other question is hidden below it, silent in order to be safe from the potentially prying ears of the staff: Will you be returning to Sirius tonight?
Remus nods, his long fingers coming to gently circle your wrists, guiding your hands to the nape of his neck. “I will.”
Your fingers feel the soft tufts of hair there, and your eyes trace over his features. You’ve been close to him but never in a way that has lit up your insides the way they are right now. Your heart feels like it might explode and there’s an odd warmth in your lower belly that only seems to grow as Remus leans closer. His lips brush the slightest bit against your own when he whispers and you have to force yourself to listen.
“I think he will be quite pleased that you’re agreeing to my proposal.” As he whispers, one of his hands slides to your back again, lower than before. It makes your breath catch and your voice is airy and strained when you respond.
“I am sorry for… running away.” His nose bumps yours and your brain struggles to form coherent words. “I was just… overwhelmed.”
“I am sorry for how I handled it.” Remus pulls back just enough so that he can look between each of your eyes, a sincerity shining so strong within his own that it somehow makes your heart ache even worse. “I should’ve been more honest with you. Especially given that I was already planning to make you my wife.”
“But how could you have been?” Your tongue darts out to wet your lips and his eyes follow the entire movement. “I know you both must think me naive, but I am not naive enough to think that your relationship with Sirius is something you can just… share. It was unexpected, and I did not… know that was a possibility. But I am not upset.”
A sound that must be a sigh of relief presses out of his parted lips, the slightest bit of tension easing from his shoulders. “The Heavens have truly blessed us with you. I was prepared to stow Sirius away somewhere for the rest of our lives, only seeing him when I had time to escape life in Mayfair. Which would not have been fair to him or to my wife.”
You don’t know what possession must come over your body as you look at him, a boldness that shocks even yourself, but you close the gap between you instead of responding.
Your first kiss is not how you assumed it would be. You’ve thought about it thousands of times, especially late at night trying to fall asleep, your mind creating beautiful fantasies instead of counting sheep. You wondered if it might be at your wedding, dozens of people watching. You wondered if it might be hidden away, a secret shared between you and someone far below your stature, love overcoming the anxiety of being caught. You’ve even wondered if it might never happen, especially after your first (and second) season when not a single one of the men caught your eye.
It comes to you as easy as breathing. Remus’ lips are slightly chapped, the barest hint of brandy still on his lips.
It is chaste, though still highly improper. Remus pulls away first, much to your dismay, but then he presses his lips to your forehead in a way that settles you and is so sweet it almost brings tears to your eyes. You swallow back the lump in your throat.
“Well, it is good you finally saw sense about me, then.” Your voice is more stable than it should be given how weak your knees feel. You can feel his breath on your face when he chuckles lowly.
“Sirius would have convinced me to propose to you even if I hadn’t already decided. He’s quite taken with you.”
You can’t help the smile that takes over your lips. “Have you seen my painting?”
Remus shakes his head. “No. He won’t let me see it until it’s perfect, he says. He’s asked if I can whisk you away so you can be his muse and he can perfect his work.”
“I already believed it to be perfect.” You say and Remus nods at your words like he agrees with you.
“Sirius is very hard on himself, the harshest critic I have ever encountered. But his art is magnificent each and every time, including your painting, I’d wager.”
You miss Sirius, and you find yourself impatient for the day that the three of you can have a conversation alone. You feel like you’ve wasted an opportunity running away from Remus’ London apartment, but you cannot fault yourself for having ended up here, engaged to him.
“I will see you in the morning.” Lord Lupin bows his head in your direction as his carriage pulls up in front of the door. The sun has long vanished below the horizon, the moon shining brightly from its place amongst the stars.
“I will be expecting you.” You tell him, unable to hide your grin. “I cannot wait.”
brenden park’s actor is so fine and now I’m kind of obsessed w bro so pls do a fic where it’s like brenden’s wife no one knows abt, n she comes to the ambulance bay to kinda drop off his lunch cuz he forgot, and so she’s let into the ED and is sorta waiting for him as the nurses station till Dana calls him down and people are kind of SHOOK bc holy shit the shark has a sweet little lunch-bringing wife and they all think he’s an utter demon 😭
i can't lie i love this trope so thank you so much for sending this in <3 i love him
dr. brendon park x wife!reader who brings him his lunch ✿ 713 words
summary: dr. park leaves his lunch at home, so you, his wife, bring it to him. the only thing is, absolutely no one knows he's married
cw: fem!reader who is described as sweet, bubbly and bright, kind of soft!dr. park but only around you, probably lore inaccurate but it's just a little blurb so who cares
the pitt masterlist
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Dana raises her gaze when Lupe clears her throat. She’d heard her approaching footsteps, of course, but in a busy place like the ER, one always hopes the steps will pass by them and whatever problem has arisen will be someone else’s.
It’s not Dana’s lucky day, evidently.
“What’s goin’ on, Lupe?” Dana asks, smacking her gum and reaching up to readjust her hair clip.
“There’s a Mrs. Park here to drop off a lunch for Dr. Park.”
Dana’s brows furrow together. Mrs. Park? “Dr. Park as in Shark?”
Lupe gives a half-nod, half-shrug that Dana takes as an affirmative. She blinks a few times, letting out a heavy breath, and then her eyes scan the floor.
“Dr. Javadi!” She calls out, stopping the young doctor in her tracks, eyes wide as she turns toward the nurse’s station. “Find Dr. Park and tell him his wife is here with his lunch.”
“What?” Victoria’s already shaking her head, gesturing vaguely toward the ambulance bay with her hands. “No- I… There’s a trauma coming in and-”
She’s interrupted by the arrival of Dr. Santos, who steps up with her hands on the ends of her stethoscope, mouth still finishing up a yawn as she starts to talk, “Who’s the really sweet woman with a lunchbox talking to the little kids in chairs?” All eyes turn to her, and Trinity scans all of their faces with a slight frown. “What?”
“Ah, Dr. Santos, perfect.” Dana, puts her hands together, pointing them toward Trinity. “That is Dr. Park’s wife, I believe. Can you go tell him she’s here?”
“Me?” Trinity scoffs, shaking her head much in the same way Javadi did. “No, I can’t. I have a case to check on.”
“If you have a case, why were you in chairs?” Javadi asks and Trinity sends her a side glare that has the younger doctor pursing her lips and going silent.
Dana doesn’t look away, doesn’t lower her brows, doesn’t stop smacking her gum. “Dr. Santos-”
“I don’t want to go find Shark! Send one of the interns.”
“Find me for what?” Everyone goes still; they’ve spoken of the devil and suddenly he’s appeared. Brendon looks between all of them, eyes sharp but jawline sharper. “Find me for what? I hope you all haven’t managed to screw something up with my femur surgery before I could make it down here.”
It’s Dr. Javadi who ends up breaking the silence, if only because it’s her face his gaze lands on last and it hardens enough to have her practically squealing, “Uh- uh no! Your patient is fine. It’s just, your wife is here.”
They all watch the shift in his expression. It’s not major, not like all of the color drains from his face or his jaw goes slack. It’s just a slight shift in his muscles. “My wife is here?”
“She’s fine.” Dana clarifies, gesturing toward chairs. “Apparently, you forgot your lunch at home and she brought it for you.”
His expression changes again. Softens in a way that has everyone else looking at each other. His next words add to their surprise, “Thank you.” Dr. Park gives Dana a nod before he turns on his heel to head toward chairs.
The three of them, Javadi, Dana, and Santos, follow behind him, stepping up by Lupe’s desk to watch through the window as he approaches you.
You blink up at him so sweetly, and his hand raises to cup your cheek. You smile, so brightly it’s almost blinding, and all of your spectator’s jaws are dropping when Dr. Park smiles back.
Victoria elbows Trinity gently, getting her attention as her eyes linger on the two of you. “Did you know he was married?”
Trinity shakes her head, lips pursed. “No.”
Park leans down to give you a kiss as he takes the lunchbox from your hands. It completely changes the way they see him, though the sharp look he shoots the three of them through the window when he pulls back sends them darting back to work.
People whisper about Park the Shark’s cute wife for the rest of the day, and there’s even rumors that he smiled.
No one would ever dare say anything in front of him, though. Not unless they had a death wish.
No zombie au drabble where joel is readers new best friends dad (they’re adults ofc maybe college age or older) and they just met and when she comes over for a dinner or something her and joel end up alone in the kitchen and one thing leads to another and he fucks her on the counter
hi nonnie!! thank you so, so much for requesting! hope you enjoy <3
best friend's dad!joel miller x fem!reader who goes home with Sarah for the holidays ✿ 2.3k words
cw: NSFW 18+, no apocalypse au, fem!reader, age gap (joel is in his late 40s, reader is in her early 20s), forward!joel, horny!reader, unprotected piv, creampie
joel miller masterlist
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’Attention: All students are to vacate dorms and leave campus over the winter holiday break. No exceptions.’
“Fuck.” You whisper under your breath, leaning back against your headboard, your head landing on the metal rim with a small ‘thunk!’ You toss your phone aside, digging the heels of your palms into your eyes until you see stars.
“You good?” Your roommate and best friend, Sarah, asks with a chuckle from her bed across the room. You turn your head, a frustrated pout on your lips.
“Did you get the email?” You ask, and Sarah scoffs, nodding.
“You mad you have to go home?” She asks with a smirk on her lips that makes you huff and roll your eyes.
“Yeah, except I can’t.” You shake your head, your tongue poking the inside of your cheek in irritation. “My dad just texted and basically told me… not to come back. I was planning just to stay here.”
Sarah is silent for a moment and you groan, flopping dramatically against the mattress, your body bouncing softly with the ricochet. You kick your feet in frustration, your mind already racing with the cost of hotel rooms and food, when Sarah speaks again.
“Do you want to come home with me?”
You turn your head, eyes opening to look at her. Your gaze traces over her features, wondering if she’s being serious.
“Are you for real?” You ask, brows furrowing together. She shrugs, reaching for her own phone, fingers flying over the screen as she types.
“I can ask my dad.” She says, and you should’ve known this would be her solution.
Truth be told, you’ve always been jealous of Sarah Miller.
And maybe you shouldn’t be. She’s had her fair share of shit, too. Some of it worse than yours, some of it not.
What she does have is her father, Joel. And to you, this makes Sarah the luckiest woman in the world. Joel Miller is everything you wish your own father was: attentive, loving, around. It seems like every little inconvenience in her life can be passed off to her father, and poof. Gone.
“Oh, my dad will get it.” “Hang on, let me call my dad.” “Don’t worry, my dad already paid for it.”
And it’s not even so much that the Millers have money (though you know her father does run a fairly successful carpentry business), it’s that Joel Miller loves his daughter so much that he’s willing to give her practically anything she wants.
So, yeah. You’re allowed to be a little bit jealous.
“You don’t think your dad will care?” You ask, chewing your lip between your teeth. The idea is tempting, not only because of the money you’ll save staying with her and not in a hotel, but also then you’ll get to spend your entire break with your best friend.
Sarah gives you a side eyed glance, the corner of her mouth still tilted upward. “It’s my dad, he won’t care. I just texted him.”
And, so, that is how you end up legging your suitcase up the driveway of the Miller house, following closely behind Sarah. The door opens, and her father steps out, greeting her with a wide smile and open arms.
“Dad!” Sarah shouts, tossing her things in the grass and she runs into her father’s waiting arms. He tucks her close to his chest, an almost identical smile to his daughter’s on his face. His eyes rise a bit to meet yours over her head.
Your heart skips a beat and your stomach flips. You can feel your breath catch and a small fire begins to burn low in your gut.
Sarah clearly forgot to mention that her dad is hot as fuck.
You blink out of it as you shake your head slightly, scolding yourself internally as you plaster an awkward smile on.
“Hi, Mr. Miller,” You greet, stepping up behind Sarah, sticking out your hand as she steps aside to grab her bags. Joel places his hand in yours, his callused skin rough against your own, but he doesn’t shake it. Instead, he tugs you into his chest too, his musky scent overwhelming your senses. His other hand sprawls across your lower back, and you find yourself hugging him hello.
“Call me Joel.” He tells you, voice gruff and low in your ear.
“Okay.” You say back, using all your might to keep your voice steady. Joel’s hand slips a little lower than it should when he pulls away from you, and you swear he sends you a wink but it happens so fast you think you might’ve made it up.
“Come on!” Sarah says, grabbing your arm and tugging you inside, up to her room.
As it turns out, Sarah and her father do almost everything together, and Sarah drags you along with her. You eat meals with them, watch tv with them, and you’re starting to feel like an intruder. Not that either of them make you feel that way.
Especially not Joel.
Joel is just as you thought he’d be: kind, a good father to Sarah, steady. You can’t help but fall for his gruff charm. He makes sure you know you’re welcome, calling you “darlin’” and helping you out with anything you need.
Okay, well maybe not anything. There’s still the issue of that fire in your core that only seems to be getting hotter and hotter. Soon, it will become unbearable, you think. And it gets worse every time you’re around Joel. He’s not helping, either, with that smug smirk or the way his gaze lingers over you every time you shift.
You spend the majority of the holiday break trying to avoid his eyes, moving away from him on the couch. If he notices, he doesn’t say anything. You duck out of activities when you can, but as the days go by, it seems that Joel picks up on your hesitation, insisting you join them even after you say no once. You give in, because there’s a small part of you that wants his attention, wants to see how far he’ll go.
You find out a few days later.
It’s early, and Sarah’s still asleep, sprawled out across the bed you two have been sharing. Sharing being a very loose word, given that you only get a sliver of mattress to yourself with your best friend’s flipping and flopping.
You head down to the kitchen, bare feet padding against the carpeted floor. You run a hand through your hair, stifling a yawn, only to freeze in the kitchen doorway.
Joel sits at the table, shirtless, holding a needle between his teeth and thread between his fingers. Your mind short-circuits, unsure of whether to focus on his chest, his arms, or his hands and the way they move as he patches a hole in the fabric. You watch him, half hidden behind the doorway, peeking around the side of the frame like a child watching something they shouldn’t be.
And you really, really shouldn’t be.
“I know yer there.” Joel’s voice drawls out through the quiet air, striking you in a way that has your blood running both simultaneously cold and hot. He doesn’t even look up, fingers continuing their movements. “C’mon.”
You step out, slowly like you’re scared you might get scolded. When Joel finally does raise his eyes to meet yours, you still again, trying to come up with an excuse for standing there and just watching him.
“‘m not gonna bite.” He says, smirk widening at the look that takes over your face. He pats the chair next to him. “I mean, ‘nless you want me to, darlin’.”
You want to melt into the floor and disappear. You want to jump his bones.
The short trek over to him feels simultaneously like an instant and a million years. Guilt and desire run through your body in a race, and you aren’t sure which one will win.
“Sarah’s still… asleep.” You tell him, awkwardly clearing your throat. You sit down, but at the farthest possible distance you can, practically falling off the edge of the chair. You avoid looking at him, not wanting to risk looking at his shirtless chest this close up. Joel narrows his eyes a bit, making a ‘tsk’ sound at you with his tongue.
“Didn’ I jus’ say I don’t bite?” The slow drawl of his voice doesn’t help your nerves. You begin to stutter, eyes wide, and he chuckles, reaching over to teasingly pat your shoulder. “‘m just messin’ with you.”
You give an awkward chuckle back and shuffle a bit closer on the chair, just until he seems to look satisfied. You keep your eyes on your hands, fingers twiddling in your lap. Joel lets out a sigh, legs spread as he adjusts in his chair. You let yourself look up a bit, just at his hands as they continue to mend the shirt he’s got sprawled across the table and not covering his chest.
“I didn’t know you… sew.” You realize how weird that sounds as it comes out of your mouth, and you can practically hear him raise an eyebrow.
“Didn’ know you knew me tha’ well, darlin’.”
“I just mean that- Well, you seem like a good dad, but it’s-”
“‘m not.”
You pause, officially meeting his eyes as your brow furrows and your lips part in confusion. “What?”
“‘m not.” He repeats his words, then raises the thread to his mouth. He makes a big show of moistening it with his tongue before rethreading the needle. “A good dad.”
You don’t respond for a long moment, your throat dry and tight until you shake out of it. “You seem like a good dad? Sarah clearly loves you a lot and you’re always there for her.”
“Hmm.” He gives a half shrug and a grunt. His fingers fiddle with the sewing needle, but he places the shirt down on the table. “Tha’s good ‘n all, but it don’t make me a good man.”
He gives you a look, and the hair on the back of your neck stands up. The heat in your belly burns so brightly you think it might explode.
“What do you mean?” You finally manage to ask, though raspy and half-caught in your throat.
“I mean, a good dad, a good man… wouldn’t want to bend his daughter’s friend over the kitchen table.”
And kaboom.
“Joel-”
“‘n don’t try to deny you feel it too, I see the way you flush when ‘m able to catch yer eye.” He chuckles softly to himself, setting the sewing needle down with a soft ‘clink’. He grunts a bit as he lifts his arms, clearly flexing as he places his hands behind his head, looking at you. “You think yer so sly, but I see the way yer thighs clench together. They’re doin’ it righ’ now.”
The skin of your face and neck heat to a boiling point, and your thighs clench even tighter.
“C’mere.” He encourages, and despite everything in your mind shouting at you that you shouldn’t, your body follows.
That’s how you end up with your cheek smushed against the glossy wood of the kitchen table, eye level with the sewing needle as Joel fucks you from behind. The table makes a quiet ‘creak’ with every thrust, and Joel lets out low grunts and praises that have you clenching around him. You stay quiet, though, the fingers over your lips and the palm pressed into your cheek enough to keep you that way.
“Goddamn, darlin’,” He chuckles tightly, his other hand grasping your hip hard enough to dig into your skin. He looks down at where his dick disappears inside you, slick with pre and your own juices. His balls slap against your clit with each push forward, and you finally let out a muffled moan.
“Quiet,” He stresses with a low hiss and a long, slow thrust that makes your toes curl. “You don’ want Sarah comin’ down ‘n findin’ us like this, do ya?” You shake your head as much as you can with him pressing you against the table. “Good.”
He readjusts his grip on you, hand moving from your hip to your ass. He squeezes, digging his fingers into your flesh and pulling you back into him. You feel your eyes roll back, your brain practically mush. The beginnings of your climax start to tingle in your toes, slowly building momentum like a wave.
Joel’s cock hits your cervix with each press of his hips into yours, and the slight jolt somehow makes the pleasure better. It’s only a few more of them before you’re crying out behind his hand, body trembling against the table as you cum. Joel does too, throwing his head back with a hiss as he rides you both through it.
He dresses you after, pressing kisses to your neck as he pulls your panties up. You can feel his seed leaking out of you, and his fingers brush over the wet patch with an obvious bit of pride on his face.
The two of you try (and probably fail) to act normal the rest of the trip. Sarah, though endlessly curious and perceptive, doesn’t say anything to you if she senses the tension between you and her dad.
On the morning you’re leaving, you load your suitcase into the back of Sarah’s car, lingering longer than you should to watch Joel where he stands in the doorway.
He sends you both off, sending you a wink, and you find yourself wishing your break was longer.
areudirty
stormborns
gummygunk
blakekathryn
romaincrisis
germansingergirl
kianamaiart
