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.
Omg your PTMC Secretary!Reader is adorable! I would like to request a continuation where reader tries (horribly) to flirt with Brendon but him being his douchebag self, he just stares at her and pays her no mind. Flash forward after many failed attemps at flirting, reader hears people gossiping about how they THINK she's making Brendon uncomfortable (she's not. he, in fact, enjoys it secretly). so she stops trying to make him notice her. how do you think Brendon would react? 🥰
hi nonnie! i changed your request just a bit because i went where the words took me, but i hope you enjoy!! thanks for requesting <3
dr. brendon park x secretary!reader who finally learns his name ✿ 2.0k words
summary: your crush on the mysterious doctor gets a little out of hand
cw: fem!reader, secretary!reader, implied sunshine!reader, everyone just wants to protect reader, reader thinks she made brendon uncomfortable
the pitt masterlist
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please read part one
He’s everywhere now.
You go to clock in, and he’s standing at the nurse’s station already consulting on a case with an attending. You go to take your break and he’s walking out of the break room. You’ve even run into him a few times leaving, the two of you conveniently walking in the same direction as though he’s walking you to your car.
Except that he hasn’t really talked to you. He’s never given you a ‘hello’ or a ‘good to see you’. In fact the only words he’s really said to you are ‘excuse me.’ when you pause like a deer in headlights in front of him. Not that you haven’t tried to speak to him. You’ve spent hours alone in your apartment trying to think of what you wanted to say the next time you see him. But then once he’s in front of you, you can’t seem to make your lips move the way you need them to.
Something happens to you when he’s in your line of sight. It’s like your brain forgets how to function correctly, a machine missing a cog.
You want to believe that seeing him this often now is a coincidence. You don’t want to allow yourself to think, even for a moment, that he might ever come down to the ER just to get a glimpse of you. But you can’t deny that his visits to the emergency floor have become far more frequent.
And it isn’t just you. You’d overheard Dr. Whitaker talking with some interns about him, about how they should try to avoid consulting with him as much as they could but that he’d been on the floor more often than usual. You’d also finally discovered his name, overhearing it in Dr. Whitaker’s timid tone.
“Park the Shark.”
You’d giggled when you heard it. You do think he resembles a shark, but in a hot sort of way that makes you feel warm all over. Also the thought of him biting you-
Anyway, you don’t think you could be more obvious than you are. You’ve been caught on more than one occasion staring at him during your shift while he worked. Sure, he might be holding an amputated leg, but you’d still sit there watching him with hearts in your eyes until Lupe snapped in your face. He could be stern-faced with his jaw clenched, scolding an intern about ORs and CTs and a bunch of other acronyms you’d always be right on the edge of but probably never really grasp, and you’d so be focused on the sound of his voice that you’d miss a patient’s angry complaint about wait times.
Everyone sees it. And no one seems to be afraid to warn you that your feelings for Dr. Park are a bad idea.
“You’re staring again.” Lupe’s tone is bored but suspicious, her gaze pointedly side-eyeing you from where she sits at her desk. Her voice shakes you out of your thoughts, and you feel your cheeks warm at the accusation.
“I’m not.” You deny, ignoring her gaze while you pick up some papers and tidy up your desk.
“You are.” She turns her head in your direction, and once you meet her disappointed eyes, you wish you hadn’t. “I promise you, I’m only trying to help.”
“I just don’t understand why everyone has a problem with him.” Your words trail off as more people approach the window to check in. Lupe looks like she wants to say something, but she never gets a chance.
You run into Dr. Park again while carrying a patient’s paperwork to the back for Dana. She’s not at the desk, so you stand there for a few moments while you wait for anyone to take the paperwork so you can return to your own desk. You’re tapping your nails against the counter when he comes around the corner.
“The OR will be ready in 10 minutes. Go.” You feel your spine straighten automatically as his voice reaches your ears. Your eyes meet his as he approaches the nurse’s station. He doesn’t say anything, of course he doesn’t, but he does give you a long once-over before his gaze returns to the chart in his hands. Your skin feels tingly, like all your nerve endings are standing at attention, and you feel like you might explode if he doesn’t look at you again.
“Hey.” He stops at your voice, turning to give you a look over his shoulder. Your heart squeezes, your throat clenches, and your brain goes still, having no idea what to do next. All you manage to do is stutter out a little, “It- It’s good to see you again.”
He gets a look in his eye, though you aren’t sure how to interpret it. A glint of amusement? A shimmer of confusion? You aren’t sure, but knowing his eyes are on you at all warms your stomach.
He opens his mouth, and for a moment, you’re sure he’s finally going to speak to you again, that you’ll hear that deep voice that has echoed through every corner of your mind since the coffee shop. Only, the sound of his voice never comes.
Instead, Dana steps up to the counter and clears her throat, making you jump out of your skin. Your heart pounds, the embarrassment of being caught making you feel warm.
“What’s up, kid?” Her gum smacks as she reaches for the paperwork you set on the counter. You fumble, stumbling for an answer, having completely forgotten why you’d even come back here once you’d seen Dr. Park. You can’t help but find your gaze tracing back to him, only to find that he’s gone again. Dana shakes her head at you, a knowing look in her eyes. She leans toward you and lowers her voice to a whisper, “Kid, you have to stop. This doesn’t end well for you, and all of us here really like you and we want you to stay working here, okay?”
Her words tug at your heart. You purse your lips, giving her a tight nod and a quiet ‘okay.’ before returning to your desk, throwing yourself into work so you don’t spiral.
Because you really don’t think you can get over him. His eyes, his jaw, the shape of his shoulders, every single part of him captures your attention and refuses to let go. You know you’ll probably stay awake all night wondering what he might’ve said to you if Dana hadn’t interrupted. He lingers in your mind even when you’re thinking of other things, your eyes constantly drifting across the ER floor, seeking out his figure.
You spend the rest of your shift at your desk, and not once do your eyes glance back. You hate the way Lupe pats you on the arm encouragingly as she leaves for the evening.
You do stay up for hours thinking about him that night, no matter how hard you try to stop. You toss and turn in your bed, wondering how it might feel if he were laying next to you, or what he’d be like if he were above you. You think about the way he’d looked over you today, about the glint in his eyes that suggested he felt something, even if you didn’t know what.
By the time you fall asleep, it’s the early hours of the morning. You’re angry at yourself when you wake up, your eyes burning from lack of sleep. You debate giving yourself another 15 minutes, but instead you decide to stop for coffee on the way to work.
And that’s when you get an idea.
Lupe seems suspicious when you walk in with two coffees in hand. “Extra tired today?” She asks as you place one down at your desk.
You give her a shrug, “Something like that.” And duck back into the emergency department, heading for the nurse’s station. You pen “Dr. Park” on the side of the coffee cup, leaving it on the counter where he will hopefully find it.
When you return to your desk coffee-less, Lupe gives you a knowing, disappointed glance. You take a seat, ignoring it, and call a patient to check in.
Dana corners you in the parking lot at the end of the day. Truthfully, you’d been lingering, hoping Dr. Park might walk with you out to your car and say something about the coffee. But instead, Dana’s arm wraps around your shoulders, and she gently leads you away from the doors, further into the parking lot.
“Hon, I’m really trying to be nice here…” She squeezes your shoulder, “I know you might think you like Dr. Park, but you gotta stop. It’s too much, you don’t want him to be uncomfortable.”
Ouch. You curl in on yourself a bit, your arms crossing in front of you. “I didn’t mean to make him uncomfortable, I just…” You don’t know how to finish your sentence. Like him? Have a crush on him? You spend hours a day thinking about him, it feels deeper than that. But it’s also not. You have only had one real conversation with him. You feel your throat tighten and you shake your head, unable to finish your sentence.
“I know, sweetie, I do.” The two of you walk in silence after that, your eyes burning as you approach your car. Maybe she’s right, you think to yourself, surely he would’ve expressed some kind of interest in you if there had been feelings there? You’d been trying to speak to him for weeks, after all, and hadn’t managed anything more than a few syllables.
Dana sighs as the two of you stop by your car, then she steps in front of you so she can look into your eyes, her hands on your shoulders. “You gonna be okay?”
You give her a nod, thoughts running a million miles an hour. “Yeah… I think so. Thanks, Dana.”
It’s another sleepless night that night, though not for the same reasons. Instead of thinking about being with Dr. Park, you’re thinking about what it would be like to close him out forever. You think about letting go of this little crush you have, the fantasies of him in your mind, and part of you feels empty. But then, you think about leaving him the coffee, about how Dana suggested that you might be making him uncomfortable, and you’d never want that. You consider quitting your job. You don’t know how much you can control your thoughts if the man walks in your line of vision multiple times a week. But then you remember how Dana said that they want you to stay, plus you do not want to end up back in the job market.
You still haven’t made up your mind on what to do by the time your alarm clock goes off. You coast through your shower, getting dressed, and completely forget to eat or grab a coffee on your way to the hospital. You sit in your car for a few minutes before going inside, resigning yourself to a terrible, caffeine-less day, before forcing yourself to go in.
The sight of the iced coffee on your desk feels like a gift from heaven.
“Lupe,” You say as you sit at your desk, taking a drink. It’s your exact order. “Thank you so much for getting me a coffee, I actually forgot to get one today.”
The other woman raises an eyebrow at you, “I didn’t get that for you. It was here when I got here.”
“You didn’t?” You question, pulling the cup away to look at the sticker. “Then who-”
That’s when your eyes catch on the name on the cup. “Brendon.”
Your gaze raises, finding him through the sea of people in the ER like a beacon. He’s already looking at you, and when your eyes meet his, he gives you a little, one-sided smirk and a gentle nod.
You can barely contain your giddiness as you raise the straw to your lips again and call up your first patient to check in.
I don’t see enough PTMC Secretary!Reader fics, so I’d love some Brendon Park x Secretary!Reader fluff/meet-cute type fic
hi!! thank you so much for requesting <3 I actually love this one a lot so i'm excited haha, hope you enjoy!
dr. brendon park x secretary!reader who needs to know who he is ✿ 1.5k words
summary: no one will tell you anything about the handsome doctor you saw on the ER floor. turns out they don't have to.
cw: fem!reader, secretary!reader, implied sunshine!reader, reader is implied to be newer at the PTMC, everyone wants to protect reader
the pitt masterlist
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part two
“Woah.” The word leaves your lips involuntarily, pressed from your lungs with something akin to awe. You move a little to the left, escaping from the bar on the window that was obstructing your view.
The doctor you’re watching is stunning. You feel like he’s walked right out of one of your late night fantasies and into the real world.
“Who is that?” You ask, your voice suspiciously thin like you’re out of breath. Lupe looks up at you, then follows your gaze. Her lips purse and she shakes her head.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
Your brows furrow, eyes meeting hers before glancing back to the ER floor, only to see that the doctor has vanished.
“I was just asking a question.” You try innocently, taking a seat in your chair again. “I haven’t seen him before.”
“It’s probably better if you didn’t.” Lupe assures you before she turns back to her monitor with no further explanation.
You turn your head back one more time, hoping to catch another glimpse of him, but he’s nowhere to be seen. You sulk back into your chair, shoulders slumped in defeat, and move on. Well, as much as you can while his silhouette and sharp jawline stay etched in your mind like a wine stain in carpet.
By your next shift, after a night of dreams haunted by a tall, broad, handsome stranger, you decide to go on a hunt for more information despite Lupe’s warning.
You don’t get far before you run into another obstacle. Setting down your coffee at your desk, you slip through the door into the ER and approach the nurse’s stand. Dana looks up at you over her glasses, a chart in her hand that’s forgotten as you approach.
“What’s goin’ on?” She asks, smacking her gum. You run your hands over the counter, nails tapping against the flat top as you try to piece together your question.
“There was a doctor down here yesterday that I’d never seen before.” You play innocent, though there’s something in Dana’s gaze that makes you think she can see right through you. You try not to fold immediately. “I just think it’s a good idea that I know everyone’s name…”
Dana is silent for a long moment before she places the chart down in front of her. She leans back in her chair, taking a long breath, before she sighs and leans toward you again.
“Listen, kid.” The tone of her voice immediately dampens your enthusiasm. She continues, her eyes having an almost motherly gaze when she looks at you over the nurse’s station counter. “I know who you’re askin’ about. I also know that Lupe already told you askin’ after him is a bad idea. And I’m going to reiterate that for you. He’s not nice, he’d eat you alive.”
Your cheeks burn with embarrassment, your shoulders curving in on yourself. You wish you could disappear into the floor. Had they talked about you? Did Lupe tell her you’d been watching him? Does everyone know?
By the time you meet Dana’s gaze again, there’s a pitying smile on her lips. She stands, picking up her chart with one hand and patting one of yours with her other. “It’s better if you drop it.”
But you couldn’t drop it. You found your eyes drifting on more than one occasion toward the emergency room floor, tracing for any familiar details that might suggest your the doctor had returned. He lingered in your dreams, imbedding himself in every fantasy. You didn’t even know his name but you’d imagined him doing things to you that would make anyone else blush if you said them out loud.
You decide to try one last resort. You know you can’t ask any of the doctors, mostly because they’re too frantic and fast-paced for you to have any chance to. But nurses… nurses are fair game, especially ones who have been nice to you since you started working in the ER.
You arrive early, another iced coffee clenched in your hand as you wait like a predator stalking prey. You watch some of the night shift leave, some of the day shift doctors arriving before dawn to take their place. Your victim arrives shortly, and you scramble to exit your car at the same time she does, jogging to reach her side as you shout her name to get her attention.
“Princess!”
She looks up with wide eyes, but then her lips turn up in a smile with only a hint of confusion beneath it. “Hi!”
“I have a question for you.” You say, keeping in step with her as the two of you approach the building. You adjust your bag on your shoulder as you continue, “There was a doctor down here the other day. I’ve never seen him before, and I was wondering-”
“Oh no.” Princess shakes her head, holding up a finger in your direction, “I was told explicitly not to tell you anything about a certain evil orthopedic surgeon that you seem to have your eye on.”
Orthopedics. Well, that’s more information than you’ve gotten out of anyone else. You conveniently ignore the other adjective she’d used to describe him.
You try to push for more, “Not even his name?”
“Not from me.” She shakes her head again, lifting her fingers to mime zipping her lips closed. You groan in defeat, but you still hold the door open for her as you walk in.
You keep your eyes peeled for him, this handsome doctor who has somehow wedged his way between the folds of your brain. But as shifts pass by, days and days of them, you lose hope. Maybe he was just visiting, and that’s why no one wanted to tell you anything? Or had other women like you fallen into the same trap and gotten burned, and that’s why no one had entertained you, even for a moment?
Your brain goes around and around, shifting between fantasies of the mysterious man and disappointment that you’d probably never see him again.
And then, one early Saturday morning, fate decided to intervene.
You’re off work surprisingly, not trapped between white walls or engulfed in the scent of antiseptic. You’re enjoying a nice walk, breathing in the fresh air, and splurge a little with a stop at your favorite coffee shop halfway across town.
You’re waiting at the counter for your order to come out, scrolling mindlessly on your phone. Your ears perk up when you hear one of the baristas call out your coffee order, placing in on the counter. You make a mad dash through the small crowd of people also waiting, your hand clasping around the cup. You give a quick ‘thanks!’ to the staff working behind the counter, beginning to lift the straw to your mouth for a drink.
A throat clears behind you. “I believe that’s mine.”
You turn, and to your horror… it’s him. The doctor from the ER, the one who has been present in every fantasy and every dream you’ve had since you first saw him. You’re gaping at him, mouth slightly parted like a fish, and a look of annoyance crosses his face.
“That’s my coffee.” He says again, and some part of your brain must finally reset and work because next you’re practically shoving it into his hand.
“Sorry!” You tell him, trying to put on an apologetic face while simultaneously urging your heart to slow down. He doesn’t nod, doesn’t give you a smile, doesn’t give you any kind of acknowledgment at all. Instead, he begins to turn away.
You can’t let him escape again, you think. Not without at least knowing who he is.
“Hey,” You take a step forward to get his attention again, but it doesn’t work. So instead, you just blurt out, “Do you work at the PTMC?”
This does make him pause. He turns back toward you, his eyes more narrowed but less annoyed this time when they meet yours.
“I do.” He says. He gives you a once-over, his head tilting just the slightest bit to the side. “Do you?”
“Yes.” You tell him with a nod. Your mouth opens for you to speak again, though you aren’t able to get anything out before the barista is calling out your order. The exact same as his.
No wonder you’d gotten them confused.
His eyebrows raise, eyes glancing back at the counter where your coffee sits. “You have a good taste in coffee.” He gives you a nod, and you feel like you won a battle. He doesn’t say anything else before turning to leave, and the giddiness of the interaction has you on a high that almost makes you feel like you don’t need a coffee after all.
It’s not until later that you realize you still never learned his name.
dr. dennis whitaker x bombshell!nurse!reader who he thinks is making fun of him ✿ 1.5k words
summary: you keep giving dennis compliments, and he's sure you're making fun of him. the worst part is, your words don't exactly help with this little crush on you he's been trying to get rid of
cw: fem!nurse!reader, bombshell!reader, reader is described as being well put together with great hair and makeup, dennis is self-sabotaging, angst with a positive ending
the pitt masterlist
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Dennis knows better.
He really does. He’s seen how situations like this can get out of control, spiraling to the point of no return. HR visits, switched schedules, unnecessary drama that he doesn’t want to have swirling around his already overwhelming life in the ER.
But when he looks at you, it’s like suddenly he doesn’t care about any of that. His mind and heart decide that rules and boundaries can just get thrown out of the window.
You, with your perfectly styled hair and beautifully done makeup everyday, while the rest of them show up looking like they haven’t showered in a week. You, with the sweetest voice and the perfect laugh that has his knees feeling weak and his brain short-circuiting.
You, who, when meeting Dennis for the first time, said with a full chest and bright eyes, “Wow! You’re so pretty!”
Santos had laughed for days. She actually laughed in his face and called him ‘pretty-boy’ until she’d found something new to tease him about. And even then, the nickname seemed to stick and become an alternative for “huckleberry”, randomly mentioned and always transporting him back to the day he met you. He can still feel the way his entire body had tensed, the way his heart had threatened to stop beating in his chest.
He has a crush on you. A nurse, his coworker. The prettiest woman he’s ever seen in his life.
Its horrible.
And he knows better, that’s the thing! He’s told himself time and time and time again that he would never do that. He’s seen coworkers’ relationships get fucked up and fail miserably. He’s seen cases of unrequited love that end in HR meetings and night shift swaps. All his crush will do cause drama and chaos in a place that is already too full of drama and chaos.
And yet...
Dennis’ heart starts to pound wildly before he even fully registered that it’s you that is walking up to him. It’s like his body responds to you without him even meaning to, orbiting you like a planet to a sun every time you’re in his vicinity.
“Hi!” You greet happily, setting your tablet down and leaning against the counter as you look at him. Your smile is beautiful, and Dennis wishes he could sear the image of you into the backs of his eyelids.
“Hi.”
“Your hair looks nice today,” Dennis blinks at your words, his brain stumbling and struggling over every syllable that leaves your mouth. It’s like his entire capacity for thinking vanishes the moment you lay your eyes on him.
“What?”
Your laugh is like a sound from heaven, and your hand falls onto his arm as you lean into the motion. His skin burns where yours touches it. “I said your hair looks nice. Why do you look so shocked?”
Well, shit. He feels as a blush flourishes over the skin of his face and neck. He’d bet money even the tips of his ears are bright red. You pull your hand away from his arm to tuck some hair behind your ear and he has to swallow back a sound that threatens to escape him at the loss of your touch.
“I… I uh…” He shakes his head, no coherent thoughts able to form or produce themselves as words. “I washed it…”
You laugh again, even sweeter and more boisterous this time.
If Dennis wasn’t… himself, he’d been sure you were trying to flirt with him. Instead, he feels like maybe you’re joking and he just doesn’t get it.
“Oh, Dr. Whitaker…” Your laugh turn into a fit of giggles that seem to have a hard time going away. “You’re so cute.”
Oh, you definitely have to be fucking with him again. There’s no way you aren’t laughing at him, that he isn’t the butt of some joke.
You notice the moment his face falls. Yours does too, your smile slowly fading into a look of concern he’s really only ever seen directed at patients. It makes him feel exposed in a way that he hates, knowing you can read him so well, that he’s so obvious.
“What’s wrong?”
He wants to laugh. And cry. His stomach is in knots and he feels like he might puke. You’re making fun of him. Never once in his life has a girl like you given him attention, and there’s absolutely no way that you’re serious. The feeling gets under his skin, urgent and familiar.
“You can give it up now.” Your eyebrows furrow even further together at his words, and especially at the tone of them. “It’s not funny anymore, okay?”
“What are you talking about?” Your eyes dart quickly over different parts of his face, like you might somehow discover the answer there.
Dennis purses his lips, and lowers his voice and his gaze. “I really wish you’d stop making fun of me.”
Something shifts in your expression, your face a mosaic of all sorts of things he can’t possibly know. It settles on something between hurt and pity. “Dennis, what are you talking about?”
He hardly notices the use of his first name, his tongue digging into the inside of his cheek as his gaze bounces around nervously to make sure no one is close enough to hear the two of you. He’d pull you aside into the stairwell if it wouldn’t be absolutely devastating to his already bruised and battered ego. “You keep saying things like that. But it’s not funny. Not to me.”
“Why do you think I’m joking?” You lean away from him, voice lower than he’s ever heard it. You look… devastated, if he’s being honest with himself. “Do you think I’m making fun of you?”
“Aren’t you?” The words leave his lips faster and more broken than he would ever admit. You don’t respond. Instead, you grab his wrist, and you lead him to the stairwell, away from prying eyes and ears.
When you finally turn back to him, there’s a pain in your eyes that only makes him feel worse. “Do you really think I’m making fun of you?”
Dennis falters. Of course you’re making fun of him, you have to be. Because if you aren’t…
He can’t let his mind go down that route. He needs to squash this crush he has on you and any indication that you even find him tolerable would make his life a thousand times more difficult.
You speak up again before he can muster up any kind of answer. “Do you really think I’m that cruel?”
“You have to be.” The words aren’t purposeful, but he says them all the same. You blink, emotions swirling in your irises, and he stutters out another, “B-Because otherwise that… that means you mean it.”
“I do mean it.” Somehow, your words hit even harder than his, and the entire world stills, everything gone but you and him. You reach out for his hand and Dennis feels like he might keel over. “I really mean it, I’m sorry if you thought I was making fun of you.”
Dennis squeezes his eyes shut, his palm probably sweaty where it presses against your own. His stomach is in knots, his jaw clenches so hard he knows it’ll ache in the morning, but his heart feels lighter. Somehow, something about your admission makes him feel better despite it making the situation astronomically worse.
“I’m sorry…” Is what he manages to choke out. “I shouldn’t have- I know you aren’t mean, I just…” His voice trails off when he meets your gaze again. He wonders what he looks like: bloodshot, puffy eyes, bright red nose, messy hair. And you, beautiful, perfect you, softly tilt your head, eyes still shining despite everything as you blink slowly. It makes his throat dry and he can’t find any more words.
You seem to realize he isn’t going to finish, and purse your lips. Your fingers twiddle mindlessly together, hands clasped in front of you. “I mean it.” You finally say again, confidently reaching a hand up to push a piece of his hair back into place. “Your hair does look nice. And you are cute.”
Dennis thinks he might die. Like actually, truly might have a heart attack and die. “Th-Thanks.”
You brighten, and if he hadn’t just been personally subjected to the previous upset in your expression, he would have never known you’d been upset at all.
“I have some patients to check on.” Your hands gesture toward the stairwell door behind you, and Dennis gives you a dumbfounded nod. You turn to leave, but pause, steel your shoulders, and turn back to face him again.
“Dr. Whitaker?”
“Yeah?”
“Would you want to go out for dinner after your shift?”
ABBOTT. JEALOUS. Yummy. nurse!Reader could be at a bar w/ Dennis & Trinity after shift, maybe shes a third roommate?? and it was a rough shift, so theyre getting hammered. So, during handoff to the night shift, Robby calls Abbott (day off) n tells him that reader's had a rough shift, so he stops by the bar n sees reader absolutely giggly n drunk w the bartender.
i am genuinely so down bad for this man it had become a problem in my daily life. this was going to be just a short little fluff blurb and it became this. hope you all enjoy <3
dr. jack abbot x fem!nurse!reader who had a really bad shift ✿ 1.9k words
summary: jack gets a call from robby that he needs to check on you after a bad shift. the only problem is, the two of you haven't talked since you had a big fight
cw: NSFW 18+, situationship to established relationship, miscommunication, revealed feelings, jealous!abbot, dayshift nurse!reader, everyone knows you're together except jack, drinking/alcohol, oral (f receiving), public oral sex, unspecified age gap, i guess slight dubcon(?) since reader is tipsy but i promise she's into it
the pitt masterlist
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Jack is in the middle of cooking himself dinner when his phone starts to ring.
He checks it immediately. He’s been waiting to hear from you, but he always assumes you’ll text. You hate talking on the phone, given you have to talk on the phone all day at the nurse’s station. You’d always rather text him. So, if it is you, that means there’s probably an emergency.
It’s not you, though. It’s Robby.
Jack doesn’t take the time to debate with himself if that’s worse before he’s raising the phone to his ear. “Abbot.”
“Hey.” Robby’s voice is strained in a way that has Jack’s heart skipping a beat. “Listen, brother… I know things are a bit weird right now, but I think you should check on her.” The pit in Jack’s stomach only grows when Robby tells him about how bad your shift was, about how he’d seen you crying in the ambulance bay before you’d headed off to the bar with Santos and Whitaker.
Jack had been planning to spend his night moping alone in his living room, watching reruns of old golf tournaments and staring at his phone waiting for you to text. He thinks saving you from the bar might be an even better way to spend his time.
It’s crowded when he gets there. Jack’s always been grateful to have his Friday nights off, but now, looking for you, he wishes it were any other night so the bar wasn't so crowded. Though, there only seems to be one bartender, and the swarm of people directly in front of him don’t exactly help Jack’s view. He doesn’t know what you’re wearing, either.
His eyes narrow slightly as he scans faces, looking for your familiar features only to be hit with the (slightly-frightened) face of Whitaker, making eye contact directly with him from a seat near the back of the bar. Jack watches as the younger man elbows the woman next to him, Santos, who also ends up with the same panicked look reflected on her face when she sees him. Jack can even see her lips form the word ‘fuck’ as he begins to weave his way through the crowd and in their direction.
It doesn’t take him long to get to them, his wide shoulders and serious face easily having the crowd parting for him to make his way through. He steps up closer to the bar, and that’s when he sees you.
“Dr. Abbot!” Whitaker and Santos both greet him with voices several octaves above normal, their eyes darting between you and him, though Jack is paying them no mind. He doesn’t even look at them. Only at you.
You’re leaning on your elbows on the bar, clearly tipsy. Your dress is askew, and your eyes are fluttery and sweet as you look across the bar to the second bartender, who seems to be abandoning his job to relish in your flirting.
Jack feels paralyzed, but his mind is racing.
His heart is in his stomach. You look so good he can feel his cock start to spring to life in his pants. He wants to rip you away from the bar and tell you to never look at any other man ever again. He wants to fuck you in front of the bartender you’re flirting with just to get the smug look off his face.
He finds himself calling out your name before he can stop himself.
You freeze, your entire body going rigid. You blink slowly, then stand back from the bar and turn to him. The bartender looks between the two of you before darting away.
Coward, Jack thinks.
“What are you doing here?” You ask, or at least that is what Jack interprets your drunken slurring to mean. Whitaker and Santos do not even try to hide their blatant staring, drinks in one hand as they watch the encounter.
“I heard you had a bad day.” Jack takes a step closer. You don’t move, but your head tilts slightly and your lips purse unhappily.
“And?” You cross your arms now, hip still leaning against the bar. “It’s none of your business.”
You look so pretty that Jack is having a hard time being upset with you, and he can at least agree that he is somewhat worthy of being at the receiving end of your anger. He huffs your name in a frustrated tone, taking a step closer. “It is my business-”
You cut him off. “It’s not! You’ve said it yourself, you aren’t my boyfriend.”
Ouch. He feels your words like a punch to the face, and he can even see Santos and Whitaker grimacing in his peripheral vision.
Jack’s reaching out and grabbing your wrist before he even registers that he’s moving. You seem just as surprised, but you don’t fight against his grip when he pulls you out the back door and into the alley behind the bar. It’s quiet, and dark, and the sound of both of your heavy breathing echoes between the walls.
“I didn’t mean it like that.” Jack says with a shake of his head, a hint of desperation in his voice that he wouldn’t allow in front of anyone but you. “I know that’s what I said, but I didn’t mean it like-”
“Then how did you mean it?” You interrupt him again, jerking your hand out of his grip. “Because from my perspective, it seems like you just want to fuck me and you don’t care about me at all.”
“That couldn’t be farther from the truth, honey.” The pet name slips past his tongue, and his hand finds your cheek, brushing some hair out of your face. “I’m an Attending. And I’m worried that it’ll be-”
“I’m a professional.” You argue back, shaking your head and furrowing your brows at him. “I would never let anything effect my work-”
It’s Jack who cuts you off this time, though with his lips instead of words. He sucks your bottom lip into his mouth before letting his tongue slide against your own. Your mind and heart might be fighting with him, but your body isn’t. It opens up for him immediately, and you arch into his hold as he slides his other arm around your waist.
You hardly even remember what you were arguing about by the time he pulls away, your face hot and your panties wet.
“Stop interrupting me.” He scolds softly, his dimples fluttering as he gives you a cheeky smile. You don’t speak, you don’t even know if you could, so he continues. “I’m worried it will be difficult for me to work around you without getting distracted.”
“It’s a good thing we hardly ever work the same shifts then.” Though you feel like you’ve done a complete 180, you lean into him, trying to chase his mouth with your own. But he dodges you, and when Jack says your name, soft but serious, your eyes find his again.
“I’m old.” He says, and you feel yourself soften.
“Jack-” Your voice is cut off by a chaste press of his lips to yours again, but he pulls away before you even have a chance to respond.
“I said don’t interrupt.” He takes a long breath before he starts again. “I’m old. And I don’t want you to feel like being with me ties you down, or- or stops you from being young and finding yourself.”
“I’m an ER nurse, Jack, I’m not a college kid.” You wrap your arms around his neck, eyes moving back and forth between each of his. “I know who I am, and I know what I want. And I feel like I’ve made it pretty clear that I want you, old man.”
Jack rolls his eyes at the nickname, even if his heart does flutter at the sweet tone with which it comes from between your lips. You could make even the worst insult sound beautiful to him if you used that voice.
“We’ll have to tell HR.” He finally speaks up again after a heavy sigh and some internal debating. “And I’m sure you’ll get some flack from the other nurses.”
“The other nurses already have a bet going on about when you’ll propose.” You counter with a glint in your eyes. “I promise I’ll be okay.”
Jack shakes his head, though mostly at himself. “I’ve really been overcomplicating things, haven’t I, honey?” You nod, giving him a pout that has his knees weak and he can’t help but lean forward to press a kiss to the corner of it before pulling back again. “Well then I should make it up to you, shouldn’t I?”
He’s on one knee before your drunken brain has even registered his movements, the other knee still up to keep his prosthetic steady as his hands tear at your dress, pushing it above your thighs.
“Jack!” You cry out, mostly in surprise, eyes darting around nervously like someone might come into the alley and see the two of you. Realistically, someone could. You don’t have too much time for that train of thought though, before his nimble fingers are tugging your soaked panties to the side and his tongue is sliding between your wet folds.
You regret ever fighting with him, ever thinking for a moment that you could live without this. You throw your head back, hardly even registering as it hits the brick wall behind you. Your jaw goes slack, and Jack’s hands find your hips to help you stay upright when his tongue delves into your pussy. He swirls it around masterfully, lapping at you like he knows exactly what you want before you do.
Your hands find his hair, pushing him even closer, his nose nudging at your clit with every movement of his jaw. You moan, crying out his name into the darkness of the night as your body slowly starts to tingle. He moves back to suck on your clit, pushing you over the edge like it’s second nature.
His chin is glistening when he finally stands back up, a hand on the wall behind you to help him. He’s helplessly hard, cock straining against his pants, but he doesn’t care. You look blissed out and satisfied, leaning into his chest the moment he’s steady on his feet.
“I want to be with you, Jack.” You tell him, and even if you’re still a little tipsy, he knows your words are sincere. “I love you.”
You taste the remnants of yourself when he leans forward to kiss you, whispering against your lips, “I love you too.” He kisses you soundly, the kind of kiss that would’ve had your knees shaking if they already hadn’t been. He has a glint in his eyes when he pulls away, one you can see even despite the darkness in the alleyway, and his voice cuts through the silence again.
“Tell me more about this bet that I’m going to propose soon?”
Second, I have a story idea for Park the Shark, if you’re still taking requests for him.
Him and reader are married. I am picturing reader as a nurse.
Reader goes and gets a tattoo, a great white and a nurse shark circling. Something like this:
Maybe Park doesn’t know she’s getting it and finds out or something. Whatever you create will be perfect as always. But if you hate this idea, delete it and we shall never speak of this again lol
Anyways, I love you and I hope you have a great day!
hellooooo cassie!! thank you so much for requesting this i love youuuu <3
dr. brendon park x nurse!reader who gets a "secret" tattoo for him ✿ 634 words
summary: you try to hide your new tattoo from brendon. he figures you out immediately
cw: nurse!reader, fresh tattoo, brendon being very worried about reader's behavior, brendon thinks someone hurt reader
the pitt masterlist
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You really didn’t think this through.
It had sounded like a great idea at the time, and really, you still think it’s a great idea. It’s just… the hiding it that’s not working out.
And Brendon sniffs it out instantly. You should’ve known he would.
“What’s wrong?” His eyes are sharp, tracing over you like he can deduce every secret you’ve ever had just by looking at you. And knowing him, he probably can.
“What do you mean?” You try to ask innocently, leaning forward to run your fingers across his shoulders and through the hair at the nape of his neck.
Your distraction doesn’t work. If anything, his frown deepens.
“What’s going on?” He stares you down and you falter. Something must show on your face because his brows furrow and his hands reach for you. When one slides up your back and across your shoulder blade, you flinch.
Brendon pulls back like he’s burned you. The look on his face is hurt and suspicious, and when he speaks again, his voice is far rougher than normal, each syllable drawn out. “What’s wrong?”
Tears well up unbidden in your eyes, and you fluster at the burning in your waterline. Your head shakes, frustration with yourself bubbling up. “You weren’t supposed to find out!”
That makes things worse. Now, his face turns dark and he’s reaching for you again, sliding off the couch to stand and look at your back.
“Did someone hurt you?”
“No!” You turn to stop him from lifting your shirt and seeing your skin, but he flawlessly follows your movement, not allowing you out of his grasp. “No, I promise no one hurt me.”
“Then what?”
You sigh, your shoulders dropping in defeat. Your wring your hands in front of you and Brendon stops, looking at you and allowing you to answer in your own time.
“I got something for you.” You finally admit, voice smaller than it should be. “But… I didn’t want to show you until it was ready.”
“You… got me something that’s on your back?”
You nod, and reach down to lift your shirt, turning your back toward him again. There, right on the back of your shoulder, is a new tattoo, still covered with the clear wrap from the tattoo shop.
The design is of two sharks: a nurse shark for you, and a great white for him. Still swollen with freshly injected ink.
“Honey…” The pet name is enough to have your eyes burning again, and you bite your lip in anticipation of him saying more.
When he doesn’t, you ask shakily, “Well, do you like it?”
He pulls your shirt down gently over the wrap before his hands move to cup your cheeks. He places a long kiss to your lips, and by the end of it, you’re smiling.
“I love it.” He tells you, and there’s a soft tenderness in his eyes that always makes your stomach flutter. You lean forward to kiss him again, and his hands slide into your hair to pull you closer, kissing you harder. He pulls away first, and you press your forehead to his, the tips of your noses bumping.
“I love it.” He repeats, and then, “I love you.”
“I love you too, Bren.”
He smiles for just a moment before shaking his head, pulling back and meeting your gaze. “You were going to try and hide it until it was healed?”
You shy, giving a slow nod, “I was going to try. You figured me out in less than three hours…”
He scoffs, pulling you to lean against him again, but careful of your shoulder.
“What?” You ask at his scoff. He gives you a side eye.
“Did you really think I’d be able to keep my hands off of you until it healed?”
poly!wolfstar x fem!reader who remus will be forced to marry... eventually ✿ 1.6k words
summary: remus' father dies, leaving him to become Lord Lupin. his mother insists he marry, but there's a problem: remus lupin already has a lover.
cw: no reader in this part, bridgerton-inspired au, established!wolfstar, period-typical homophobia mentioned, sirius being dramatic
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one two three four five six seven
The golden-amber liquid swirls gently inside the cup as Remus shifts his wrist absent-mindedly. When he brings it up to his lips, it burns as it touches his skin and he can feel it trail all the way down his esophagus and into his stomach. He takes another sip, hissing as the burning intensifies. His eyes are distant, two fingers rubbing at his jaw. His gaze finally finds the street below, puddles reflecting moonlight, interrupted by fat raindrops.
It’s rained every day since his father died.
It’s not long before he can hear the signature jingle of keys at the door to the apartment, an all-too-familiar grunt as the door is pushed open. Remus leans his head back against the wooden frame of the chair, and he hears the moment Sirius sees his things. Everything goes silent for a second, and then there’s quick footsteps dashing until he’s standing in front of Remus.
“Well?” Sirius’ eyes are already red-rimmed and full of fury, his fingers clenching into fists at his side. Remus knows his lover is quick to anger, and he himself would be no exception to this, especially when Sirius likely feels he was practically abandoned. “Where the hell have you been, then?”
Remus sits up, taking another drink of his whiskey. He’s trying to form the words, trying to string them together and force them from his throat and out his mouth but he can’t get it quite right. He hisses against his teeth. “Sirius…”
“If you were going to throw me aside like some whore, you should at least have the decency to admit it before you run off!” Sirius crosses his arms in front of him, tongue poking the inside of his cheek as he shakes his head. Remus can’t help but think Sirius is at his most beautiful like this, though he’ll never admit that.
The glass makes a small thunk as Remus sets it aside, letting out a huff of breath as he stands. Sirius stares directly into his eyes, waiting for an answer, for anything. His anger, red-hot and inflamed, is only covering up for his worry, his insecurities. They grow every moment Remus doesn’t speak, every moment he keeps looking at Sirius with that look on his face.
Remus steps in front of him, lowering his face until their foreheads press together. Remus closes his eyes, but Sirius doesn’t, watching the way Remus’ face seems to crumble for a moment, his hands finding Sirius’ arms.
“My father… is dead.” The words feel impossible to speak, if not only for the other ones he knows they will lead to. Sirius tries to pull away but Remus’ grip on his arms tightens, keeping him in place. “It was quite a shock.”
“Remus, I-” Sirius swallows thickly, his own hands finding Remus’ back, pressing him closer. He feels guilty for assuming Remus had tossed him aside, that the absence had been personal. He’s always been a selfish git, but now he’s truly feeling it. “I’m so sorry.”
Remus shakes his head, or at least as much as he can with his forehead pressed to Sirius’. The tips of their noses brush and something in his heart breaks. “No, I should’ve written to you. I wanted to write to you, only… I didn’t have an opportunity.”
Sirius’ lashes brush against Remus’ when he blinks, slow and fluttering. “Why not?” He asks softly, though he knows Remus will continue speaking anyway.
“My mother. God bless her, she’s mourning him more than I am.” Remus swallows again and then clears his throat, pulling Sirius closer. “She was constantly hovering, she did not let me have even a moment of peace. I could hardly bathe without her knocking and asking if I am alright.”
Something about that makes Sirius smile, the corners of his lips tilting up, but it vanishes when Remus looks up to meet his gaze again, and that look is still there. The one that tugs low in his gut, and not in the good way that normally happens when he sees Remus. “What is it?”
“There is something I must tell you.”
Remus’ words hang in the air, thick and heavy like a cold mist. It raises goosebumps on Sirius’ skin in the same way, and his heart sinks lower than he thought possible. Maybe to Hell. Maybe lower. This time he doesn’t prompt Remus, he just stares, awaiting the death blow.
“I… I am Lord Lupin now.” Remus’ voice sways on his new title, the idea of it straining his throat and he doesn’t know how long it will take before saying that sounds normal to him. He runs a hand through his sandy lock before speaking again. “And… because of that, it has become a new focus of my mother that I find a wife.”
Sirius feels like time stops. His brain refuses to process the words Remus is saying, the syllables just running on loop over and over like a scratched record. He doesn’t take in another breath, he feels like his heart doesn’t beat again for several seconds.
“A wife?” It feels like he’s floating outside himself, his voice echoed and disembodied. Remus looks like he feels the same. That, or like he might be sick. It’s several seconds before Sirius speaks again, but it almost comes out as a laugh. “You?”
Something in Remus’ jaw sets but Sirius doesn’t back down, raising his brows just a bit.
“My mother is insistent.” He says, but the look doesn’t leave Sirius’ face, though his color has started to come back. If anything, Sirius doubles down, his head tilting the way it always does when he’s being particularly snarky. “I like ladies,” Remus insists, “Just because I’m in love with you doesn’t mean-”
“What are you trying to say?” Sirius cuts him off, his words punctuated by a smirk and the cock of his hip.
“I am trying to tell you that-”
“You’re replacing me with some dull, horrid woman from the Ton?” Sirius scoffs, then gasps dramatically, “If you marry my cousin, I will cut off your bollocks.” The look of disgust that takes over Remus’ face is enough to have Sirius’ teasing morph into a chuckle.
Remus takes a breath and straightens his shoulders. “I am not going to replace you.” He reaches out for Sirius’ hand, interlacing their fingers together and giving it just the slightest of squeezes. “I do not want to take a wife, it will simply be to make my mother happy.”
“And to produce an heir,” Sirius’ fingers trace slowly down the skin of Remus’ neck, feeling the twitches and movements of his muscles underneath his skin. “Do not forget, I was to be a Lord once too. I know the expectations.”
“Perhaps, in several years, once I am done with my studies-”
“Moony, please,” Sirius scoffs again and his hands fall away from Remus’ neck, his arms crossing over his chest, “Be realistic. Do you think your mother is going to allow you to continue your studies here while your wife remains in Mayfair? She wants an heir.” Remus opens his mouth to speak but Sirius shakes his head and raises a hand, stopping him, “As soon as you finish saying your vows, your mother is going to be speaking of grandchildren. I’m surprised she hasn’t already brought it up, truly.”
Remus’ silence is all the response Sirius needs. His shoulders drop, and his hands reach for his lover again, sliding over familiar ridges and settling softly against his back. “Remus, my love, my moon… What are you asking me?”
“I… I’m asking you what you want?”
Sirius purses his lips. He runs a hand through his hair and brushes his nose against Remus’ jaw. He sighs. He tangles his fingers in Remus’ shirt.
“I want you.” Sirius whispers, tongue darting out of his mouth and wetting his lips. He pulls back to look up into the taller man’s eyes, “Always. Like always.”
“And you’re… alright with that?”
“With being your mistress?”
Remus can’t help but guffaw at this, but he guesses Sirius has a point. “Yes.”
“Well, is it truly that different from what we are doing now?”
The question makes Remus ponder. He has a secret apartment in the city, paid for through Sirius and purposely located far from any main streets. The two of them are sneaking around, have been sneaking around since the beginning of ‘them’. No one in good society would approve of the two of them galavanting around together. At least not together as they truly are.
“I guess not.” Is what Remus finally decides on. Something softens in his stomach and it’s like he can take a breath for the first time in the last several weeks.
“I just have one request.” Sirius says, face turning serious and his grip on Remus’ shirt tightening, silky fabric clutched between his knuckles.
“Anything.” Remus says it, and he means it, though he knows it’s not entirely true. There are things Sirius could ask of him that he could not deliver, but he would try his damned best.
“I want to approve of the woman you pick.”
The words hang in the air for a moment, and Remus finds himself nodding, tugging Sirius closer and lowering his lips to his lover’s.
dr. dennis whitaker x bombshell!nurse!reader who gets a hickey at work ✿ 1.3k words
summary: dennis accidentally gives you a hickey at work, leading to lots of speculation, a bet, and a confession
cw: fem!nurse!reader, dennis is v insecure, reader is not really in this part it just revolves around her
AN: literally went to post this earlier this afternoon and i got broken up with lmao so hope y'all enjoy this, i'm going to go cry :(
the pitt masterlist
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Dennis doesn’t mean to give you the hickey. Really, it’s entirely your fault.
If you didn’t melt in his arms every time he latched himself to your neck, if you didn’t encourage him by trailing your nails over his scalp and whispering pretty words in his ear, he wouldn’t have done it. But, you do, and you make the sweetest sounds Dennis has ever heard, so can anyone blame him when he’s unable to detach himself from you?
It’s not horrible, but it is… noticeable. And oh, do people notice.
The gossip spreads quickly, especially given the fact that the small, purplish mark just below your jaw was certainly not there when you arrived for your shift at 7 am. Now, it acts as a beacon to your whispering coworkers.
Dennis thinks you must not realize it’s there, given the way you don’t try anything at all to cover it up.
“It has to be one of the doctors, right?” Perlah’s voice reaches Dennis’ ears from across the nurse’s station, and he wouldn’t doubt if they perk up like a dog’s, trying to listen closer. “Someone she could sneak away into a supply room with.”
“My bet’s on Dr. Park.” Princess speaks up, the corner of her mouth lifted and eyes alight with mischief.
“Park the Shark?” Perlah leans in, and Dennis does too, despite knowing exactly who placed that hickey on your neck and the gross, dark feeling that grows in his stomach at the idea of it being anyone else. It backfires though, when the two women seem to notice his eavesdropping.
“What do you think, Dr. Whitaker?” Princess leans her elbow on the counter, voice low and conspiratorial.
Dennis jumps at the mention of his name, eyes wide like a deer in headlights when he looks up to meet the gaze of the two nurses. He tries not to look guilty and stutters out a, “What- uh, what do I think about what?”
“About our bombshell!” Princess’ gaze is as bright as her smile. “Who do you think managed to get her alone and mark their territory?”
Oh. Oh no. Dennis hates the way his scrub pants seem to tighten at the idea of him ‘marking his territory.’ That wasn’t was he intended at all, but now that he’s thought about it…
He lets out a rough cough, shaking his head and hoping the two of them think he’s just blushing at the idea of you having a hickey, and not because he’s the one that put it there. The words feel like sandpaper in his throat. “I uh- I haven’t thought about it at all, actually.”
“Hmm.” Princess turns back to Perlah, whispering something in Tagalog that Dennis doesn’t understand, and they go back to giggling. He’s pretty sure he hears Princess whisper something about Robby, but he’s darting away toward the bathroom before the two of them can question him again.
A bet is started not long after that. Dennis hears about it a few hours later, when he finally has a moment to sit down and chart, and he’s interrupted by Trinity.
“Hey, Huckleberry, you getting in on the bet?”
His heart stops, but he tries his best to look uninterested as he lifts his gaze. “What bet?”
Trinity’s eyes roll so hard Dennis is worried she might hurt herself. “The bet about a certain nurse you always seem to have your eye on. Although it seems like someone else might’ve gotten to her first.”
Dennis hates the way his stomach flips. No one even considers for a second that it might be him. Not even Trinity. She stands there, smug with maybe the smallest amount of pity for him, twirling her pen between her fingers.
Maybe it’s the look on her face, maybe it’s his frustration that no one would ever consider him good enough for you. But something forces the words from him, even if they’re murmured and unconfident.
“It was me.”
Trinity’s brows furrow, and she looks at him like he spoke in Latin instead of English. When she questions him, it comes with a confused chuckle. “What?”
“It was me.” It’s steadier this time, though not much louder. Trinity’s response is immediate.
“What do you mean it was you?” Her voice echoes more than it should, and Dennis feels like suddenly everyone in the ER has their eyes on the two of them. Before he can think of what he’s doing, he’s grabbing Trinity by the wrist and pulling her into the stairwell.
Her arms are crossed the second the doors close behind them, ripping her wrist from his grasp and eyebrows raised like she’s giving him a silent command to explain himself.
“I’m the one that… it was me. The… the hickey.” He can barely even say the word, face cringing when it manages to escape his lips. No wonder no one even looked his way.
Trinity’s first instinct is to laugh, a giggle far higher than anything he’s ever heard from her before, that turns into a cackling that makes his insides burn almost as much as his face.
“You-“ She can barely speak, words muffled by laughter, “You’re saying it was you?”
“Yes.” It’s Dennis who crosses his arms this time, wanting to curl in on himself. “Why is that funny?”
Trinity wipes at her eye, waving the other hand in his direction flippantly. She tries “No, you’re right. It’s- It’s not funny.”
Dennis’ stare is blank and unamused. His self worth is plummeting by the second. “You’re laughing.”
This only causes a new outburst of giggles. “I’m sorry!” Her voice gives away that she is absolutely not sorry. “I’m sorry, it’s just… you? It was really you?”
Dennis purses his lips. “Yes.”
Trinity’s face shifts. Away from amused and more to… confused.
“You?”
“Yes!”
“And you’re sure?”
Dennis feels like he must explode. “I think I would know if I gave someone a hickey!”
Trinity raises her hands in innocence, though the corner of her mouth twitches with the effort of holding in another chuckle. “Sorry! Sorry, I just… it’s a little…”
Dennis’ brows pull together, his eyes narrowing at her. “A little what?”
“Just… surprising.”
Dennis scoffs. “What’s so surprising about it? Why does no one think it could’ve been me?”
“Well…” Trinity looks like she’s choosing her words carefully. “You’re… you. And she’s…” Her voice trails off and Dennis raises his brows as he waits for her to finish her sentence. She does, shrugging and playing with the ends of her stethoscope. “You know… super hot?”
Dennis can’t deny that. He himself never thought in a million years that you would give him a chance, and maybe that’s why this whole thing is hitting him so hard. No one would believe him, everyone would assume you would go for someone like Dr. Abbot or Dr. Robby. Someone bold, loud, and in charge. Not… little Dennis Whitaker.
“Well, it was.” He shrugs, and that’s it.
Trinity stands there for a moment, eyes tracing over his face like she’s searching for something and she’s unsure of where it is. She seems to find it though, if the sparkle that appears in her eye and her slowly widening grin is anything to go by.
“What?” Dennis is uneasy now. Trinity turns on her heels to head back into the ED, and Dennis asks again. “What?”
She turns, walking backward through the door as she shoots him a wink. “I am so winning the bet.”
