I like blueberries

Shocking, considering the guy wears a Halloween decoration everyday, but he hates all the social interaction. Strangers knocking on his door, begging for sweets. He'd rather decorate for a day or two, enjoy his night alone, and call it a day.

So why is he going all-out to try and attract the most trick-or-treaters this year?

Because you're participating this year. You, the single parent across the street who he maybe-kinda wants to invite on a date but hasn't figured out how yet. Thus...decorating. anything to get a conversation started, right?

"Alright sweetie, go ahead and knock," ghost hears your voice across the door. He's been hovering since he spotted you and your daughter three houses down. Three knocks, and he opens the door–

"Trick or treat!!! Guess what I am!!" Your little one squeals, holding her bucket decorated like an acorn up to him.

"Sweetie, you need to wait for treats first–" you try to tell her, knowing she'll get tok disappointed and forget to get candy if the stranger can't guess.

Ghost takes one look at her and nods "proper weevil, innit. Good costume, kid."

"Yes!!! Yes I'm a weevil! You got it right!!" She yells, hopping in place in pure joy, cheeks no-doubt hurting from the force of her smile. Finally, she looks around at his house, then back up at you "can I go look at the big skeleton?"

"Yes, yes, go ahead." You smile at her, checking that no one's waiting. Thin about having little ones is you always beat the Halloween rush. Then, you smile at ghost "thank you. No one's been able to guess her costume, and she was about ready to quit."

"'S a good costume," ghost nods to himself, "she a fan of bugs?"

"Oh, it's all she talks about!" You laugh, that fond laugh all parents have for their children "she's in love with all things crawly."

"....oi've got beetles, if she wants to see 'em."

Which is how a bowl with a hastily scrawled "take one" is left on the porch, meanwhile your daughter is about ready to explode when ghost lets her hold Betty, his Hercules beetle.

"You wouldn't mind if she comes back, would you?" You whisper, both of you stood back while she stares in awe at his centipede enclosure "you're the first person able to keep up with her bug talk."

"What are we drinking?" he jokes, gesturing to your cocktail.

"Chambord spritz." You hold the drink up for him, straws caught between two fingers

"I don't even know what that is." but Shen is already leaning down, taking the straw between his lips. When he drinks, they brush against your knuckles. "Strawberry?"

"Black raspberry," you say.

"Really? Let me try again." He takes another drink and this time his lips are pressed against your fingers purposefully.

"Don't drink it all!" The liquid is drained to the ice.

"Relax," Shen says. "You can have half of mine."

His drink doesn't have a straw, so he has to hold it up and tip it into your mouth. You get a good mouthful before he pulls it back. lipstick sticks to the glass.

"This is why people think we're fucking," you murmur.

Oh, you're way too many drinks in now. Dr. Shen -God, you're blanking on his first name right now and it's killing you- has his hand on your lower back, pulling you in much too close for coworkers. Every now and again, he runs his knuckles up to your open back as a casual touch and tease, always trailing back down to the same spot on your hips.

"The drink?" It's more crowded now; he has to lean in to hear you. His breath smells like Chambord. The two of you stopped ordering separate drinks three glasses ago, now just sipping from the same damn cup. "It's good."

"No," you shake your head. "You like that people think we're fucking."

"Oh. Well, yeah." He's not bothered in the slightest. He takes around sip of the drink, then turns the straw your way and you obediently drink. You're both trashed: his body is flushed red, from ears the chest, and his eyes are glazed over and wet. "Duh."

"Why?"

"Why do you think?" His forehead bonks against yours and you're 100% sure it was by mistake. "People think I'm fucking a hot nurse. What's not to like?"

Your mouth moves much faster than your brain. "You could just fuck me?'

His forehead hits yours again and, for some odd reason, it makes your pussy unreasonably wet.

"What? I can't hear you."

It's a chance to take it back, but you can't seem to shut up, not when your body is so needy-

"We could--" you stammer this time. "We could actually fuck."

Again, he leans closer, a grin creeping over his face. "What?"

"You should fuck-"

His mouth finds yours midsentence, catching you open mouthed and vocal. It's spitty and wet and fueled more with desperation than skill, but in a way that has you wet in the knees. You mean weak in your panties. Or--

Your brain is giving up on you. All you can do is kiss him back, hand clutching at his jaw, the other tugging at his shirt. You suck on his tongue like you're a teenager alone of the first time, not a grown woman in a bar-

And then there's voices around you.

There's multiple iterations of "She's too drunk!" and "She can't go home with you!"

Your dear, lovely friends, are pulling you away with nervous laughter. It takes you a second to realize what they're doing.

"No, it's okay, he's my Doctor!" you try to explain, but they're having none of it.

"It's okay-" he slurs. "I'm too drunk-"

The night gets blurry from there.

The next day, at work, you're incredibly hungover.

Judging from his face, Dr. Shen is too. The both of you spend the shift absolutely running (your only break was when you threw up in the women's bathroom because you smelled alcohol on a patient's breath). You try and avoid having him in the room with you, but there's a few overlaps where neither of you can meet each other's eyes.

Shen doesn't even acknowledge you until you're both walking out.

"It's weird now, isn't it?" he says out right.

"Yeah." You scuff your sneaker against the concrete ramp. "Can you imagine if we actually fucked?"

"Oh," he pops his lips. "I did."

You turn separate ways: him to his car, you towards the bus stop.

"What was that?"

"I did imagine fucking you."

"I can't hear you."

His eyes go wide when he realizes you're teasing him. Shen glances around, checking for coworkers or eavesdroppers, then turns back to you, tongue running over his canine.

It's common knowledge that captive mers, especially ones kept in amusement parks, can experience deteriorated instincts. They lack social skills, hunting abilities, and most importantly reproductive success.

Meaning, when you're transferred into a mer sanctuary, it's expected for you to have trouble bonding. They place you with a formerly wild mer, id-tagged "ghost", as he's very forward. The hope, of course, that you'll be pupped come winter.

You clearly want ghost, you just...don't know what to do, it seems.

"What...surely not." Gaz, your main caretaker, whispers under his breath. Inside the tank, you chase ghost around, webbed hands grabbing at his face only for him to huff and turn away. At first it looks like some strange dominance display, but the longer he looks the more gaz realizes you're trying to kiss ghost.

Of course you learned your mating behaviors from humans. You probably saw enough PDA for it to imprint on you.

A quick consult with his supervisors, and gaz has you laid out in the shallow waters of the observation shelf. You blink up at him all docile, having grown up in similar positions during your husbandry work. You don't thrashi or growl like other mers, comfortable with you snout nudging Gaz's knee, licking at the wetsuit material.

"Okay, runt, let's help you out, yeah?" Gaz hums, signaling ghost over to slide onto the ledge like he would for an exam. "Ghost! Up here!"

It's easy getting you and ghost into the correct position, though it would be more natural for you both underwater. You chirp curiously up at ghost, completely oblivious with no instincts to guide you on how to feel about a mer lying on top and pinning your tail down.

"Okay, ghost, I'm sure you know what to do. Just let me–" gloved hands slip into ghosts slit, pulling his cocks out instead of waiting the extra time for them to emerge. Ghost grumbles a bit, knocking his head against gazs side before focusing back on you as gaz lines him up.

"Here we go." He smiles approvingly at the whine you let out on the first thrust. A bit shocked, a bit blissed out already. "Bet that feels real nice, eh?"

You squirm and chirp more, body wriggling under ghost. Clearly you want to participate, but every attempt to reach for ghosts face earns a corrective nip. Gaz, who had been too focused on ghosts cock rutting into you, didn't have time to react when you reached for him.

"What–! Hey! Mhhp–" a long, slippery tongue forces it's way inside of his mouth, thick and warm. To another mer, if kisses were at all normal, it would feel astonishingly tender. For gaz it feels like being face-fucked.

It shouldn't feel as good as it does, but he can't stop it, not when you decide to go deeper and he really has to focus on breathing through his nose.

Above the both of you, ghost rumbles approvingly. bracketing one arm around you and the other around gaz, he keeps what he now recognizes as two mates close together.

When ghost finally cums, gaz is mortified that the second cock is aimed directly at him. Milt splashing across his wetsuit.

Brendon Park fucks.

Obviously you expected that. You saw it coming. I mean, come on. You knew the guy. One look at him you knew he was getting laid often and putting it down. Hard. He was a hunky, charismatic, rich doctor. Whose biceps filled out his scrubs and whose ass did the same. Walked around the hospital with a cool and cocky demeanor. You saw it coming.

So yeah. You were sure he got around. And that was proved when he got you in bed.

He must have liked a challenge, that’s what it had to be. He could do better- do easier than you. But he was set on you for some reason. And now you were here, knees in your chest, ankles over those big broad shoulders as that massive fucking dick spears into you over and over again. And it’s good. It’s so fucking good. You’ve come… twice? Thrice? Already. But he’s still going. Still thumbing your clit as he fucking plows you just right. He’ had your hands pinned over your head a few minutes ago, on your knees, face in the pillows before he decided he needed to see you, hear you. He ate you out with his hands around your wrist again, keeping you at his mercy as he overstimulated you with a skilled tongue. You’ve been going for… fuck. A while. You’ve lost all track of time.

“Who’s your daddy, baby?” He panted in your ear, more like a growl. You couldn’t think, truly, not when he had you like this. But you managed to answer. “You are!”

He grunted in approval.

“Good girl.”

You had told him it took you a long time to cum sometimes before this. He said he was in no rush. You told him you didn’t like some things. He listened with an easy nod. Warned him you were the kinda girl who got clingy. He seemed unconcerned. Completely unconcerned. Told him you’ve been known to cry. He looked hungry.

Brendon Park was unfazed by every warning, and went to fucking town on you anyway.

And finally, with your ankles next to his head, he came.

He pulled out gingerly, careful and kind with his movements, easing your legs down for you, carefully rubbing your hips to ease the ache. He kissed your cheek. “I’m gonna go get a towel.” He explained, pushing himself off the bed.

Right.

You sat there awkwardly, unsure what to do with yourself as you waited. You settled on pulling your knees up to your chest against his headboard.

He looked surprised at your change in position.

“You okay?” He worried. “C’mon, lay back down and stay comfy. Lemme clean you up” he insisted, gently tugging on your ankle to coax you down. You let him, shyly. Despite him having you in every position 5 minutes ago, this was so embarrassing.

The aftermath always was.

“Don’t get shy on me, baby.” He insisted, kissing your knee. “Nothing I haven’t seen” as he swiped the towel through your tender folds, muttering an apology, kissing your knee.

He smiled at you. Hair sweat damp and wavy, skin glowing, he smiled at you.

Gone was his trademark scowl, or the focused flushed face he’d had during sex. He was smiling. And yeah, he smiled during the date, but you thought that was all part of the act. The seduction to get you into bed.

Why was he smiling now?

Once he’d cleaned you up, he was back out of bed, walking to a dresser and pulling out a pair of boxers to pull on.

Then another pair, and a tee shirt.

“You should really go pee still, but here. If you want a toothbrush I have the little goody bag from my last cleaning in my top drawer under the sink, and there’s cerave by the sink if you want to wash your face”. He rattled off, extending the clothing to you.

You looked between him and your clothes on the floor unsurely.

“What?”

“I should get going.”

“What are you talking about? You didn’t drive here, remember?” He reminded you. His face fell uncertainly. Concerned. Brows creased. He came back to the bed, setting the clothes beside you and running a worried hand down your cheek.

“You feeling okay? That was kinda intense, huh?”

You ignored him.

“I’ll just… get an Uber or whatever.”

“You’re welcome to do whatever you need to but. You really don’t have to do that.” He said explicitly.

“I don’t want you in an uber like this. If you’re really uncomfortable I can drive you home, but I would rather you stayed here.” Brendon insisted.

“You would?”

He looked at you dumbly.

“Yes. Of corse I would. I want you to stay the night. But only if you’re okay with that of corse.” He said flat out.

A little smirk came to his lips.

“What, you thought I was gonna kick you out of my bed or something?”

It was a lighthearted joke to him.

Your face was straight.

His fell.

“Oh my god you thought I was just gonna kick you out of my bed?”

He looked… hurt, almost.

“Well you got what you wanted so…”

You still hadn’t taken the clothes, still naked back up against the headboard now.

He looked crushed.

“Is that the kind of guy you think I am?”

You didn’t know how to respond.

“Look, I know I’ve been known to be kinda douchey at the hospital but. I’m not like that in my personal life. Not with the women I date. I thought- we went out earlier, right? We had a nice date, we came back here and kept the fun going.” He explains, like he’s trying to prove he’s not the guy you think he is.

He looked unsure if his series of events was the same as yours.

“I don’t know how to prove it, but I’m not that guy. Really. I like you. Really like you. Have for some time.” He explained.

“I thought-“

You began. Than stopped.

He looked desperate for you to continue.

“What did you think, honey?”

Honey?

“That I was, I don’t know. Like. A challange.”

He muttered the word to himself.

“Jesus fuck. No. No you’re not just some challenge. Why the hell did you even go out with me- come home with me if you thought that?”

You shrugged.

“You’re very persuasive.”

“I was going for charming.” He dryly laughed.

“That too.”

He smiled softly.

“You’re pretty damn charming yourself.” He flirted.

You smiled shyly, and he felt a little better.

A little.

“Let me say it like this. I want you to stay the night with me. I want to cuddle and kiss you and sleep here together tonight, and in the morning I want to make you breakfast and drive you home like a gentleman, and maybe beg you to go out with me again sometimes. Is that okay?”

Shyly, you nodded.

And Brendon smiled gently.

Sighing in relief.

“We need to talk about this again, sometime. Maybe in the morning. But not right now, sweet girl”.

Brendon sat up straighter.

“Put your arms up for me.”

“Huh?”

“Arms, honey.”

Honey, again.

You obliged.

The video is actually about how all of those things don't equate to a sense of self. She talks about how this "list of traits" often backed by corporations is a trap to further remove yourself from discovering any actual deeper meaning and feelings, when Myers Briggs could do the work for you.

'Goodnight'

Severus Snape x Reader

Summary: A nightly walk with a fellow Professor turns into him accidentally letting the truth slip past his lips when you both bid goodnight.

Author's Note: yall thought i forgot about snape? NAURRRR hes amazing i love him so here's some more of him :3 also if someone understands the reference im about to make ill be so happy if u do catch it pls comment ily also pls pls pls request stuff my box is always open!! i do just about anything except age gaps/nsfw :) until next time! ♡♡

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It was an unlikely friendship, really. You, a shy but sweet History of Magic Professor, making friends with the infamous brooding Professor Snape? It was unheard of. But, it worked for you two. Students and staff made light fun of it, mostly amused by such opposites being able to find each other bearable. You both often discussed classes, students, staff, academic subjects, and just about anything that came to mind, really. Usually, you were the one talking, but he was a good listener, giving his input whenever he saw fit. He'd make a sarcastic remark, and you'd chuckle like it was the funniest joke you'd ever heard.

Now, you had always harbored a little crush on him. Teeny tiny. Minute, even. Well, at least that's what you told yourself. Even when coworkers speculated, you denied all of it. You brushed it off as just working with him and seeing him every day. You knew he'd never even look at you that way in the slightest, so you kept it to yourself. You always told yourself to keep it strictly platonic. Don't stare into his eyes too long, or let him catch you staring at his face from across the Great Hall. It was a good friendship. Until one fateful night that began like any other.

You knew nights like these very well. Halls empty, paintings asleep, no students loitering nearby, with the torches dimly lit in each corridor you passed. You and Severus walked side by side together, like normal. It had become routine for you two to walk together to your quarters, and then he would leave to retreat to his own dungeons. You don't remember how it started, but you knew that neither of you wanted it to end. That was for certain. Lost in thought, you glanced over at him. He always walked with such grace, you noticed. His large cape billowing in the nonexistent wind as you two came around a corner. It was easy to admire him, too easy. You quickly focused on the dark floors in front of you as you neared your place of rest.

The both of you walked in comfortable silence until you stopped in front of your door, turning to him so you could finally say your goodbyes. "Goodnight, Severus." You smiled warmly at the bat, your voice smooth like silk. He stood there, posture perfect, an unreadable expression on his face as he looked down at you.

"Goodnight, my—" He cut himself off abruptly, as if he had revealed some dark secret. His eyes widened the slightest bit, but you still noticed. You noticed everything about him. With a single hand, he fanned out his robes and turned on his heel to make a quick yet dramatic getaway. You stood there for a few moments, confused. You retreated into your quarters, beginning to get ready for sleep as you pondered what had just happened.

What did he mean to say? Goodnight, my.. Goodnight, my.. the words rang through your head as you slipped under the covers. What could he of meant to say? Thankfully, you succumbed to sleep quite easily even after the odd farewell earlier.

The next morning, everything went as per usual. Everyone was in the Great Hall for breakfast and then dispersed to go to classes. You had a few morning classes, so you were busy up until your free period in the middle of the day. Usually, during that time, you go visit Severus since it's his free period as well. You hesitated but decided to go anyway since there was nothing to be embarrassed about, right? He didn't even say anything last night either.

Walking down to the dungeons and entering his classroom where he stood nearby, it was as if he knew it was you coming. You smiled shyly, waving hello. "Hey, Sev." He nodded in acknowledgment as you stepped closer. "Good afternoon."

"How were your morning classes?" You asked lightly, the air filled with a slight awkwardness. You didn't know why, though. "Less than tolerable. And yours?" His voice sounded different today, more guarded than before. "It was good, like normal." You smiled, looking up at him. You wanted so badly to ask what he meant to say last night, but it would be a bad time to ask now. Afternoon classes were about to start after all. "You should be heading back to your classroom." He interrupted your thoughts, and you nodded, chuckling meekly and turning to exit the dungeons, waving bye.

Later, after dinner concluded, you lingered in the Great Hall waiting for Severus to walk with you. He took a bit longer than normal. Usually, by now, you'd both be walking side by side. After a few minutes of waiting, he came up from behind you. "There you are. What took you so long?" With a smile on your face, you both started walking side by side down the dimly lit hallways. "Students." He left it at that, and you accepted it. You never pushed or questioned the Potions Professor too much. Well, until right now.

"So, last night. Did you mean to say something?" His eyes met yours already looking at him, and he flattened his robes. "I merely said goodnight." You slowed your pace, and he matched it as you turned the corner, nearing your quarters. "Yeah, but it sounded like you were about to say something else. What was it?" You felt guilty for pressing the poor man, but you truly were curious. "It does not matter." He replied coldly, and you could feel his eyes on you. "Well, it does to me." With a frown, you glanced over at him, walking up the stairs with him in sync. "I can not tell you." Curtly he replied, and that only fueled your wonder. "How come? You can tell me anything, you know. You don't have to be so guarded around me." Smiling over at him, you tried to be slightly comforting to the bat. "I won't tell you." He wouldn't budge. "Seriously, Sev? C'mon, I'm dying to know. You never tell me anything." You bit your bottom lip, pouting slightly at him as you both neared your place of rest. He made a dramatic sound, like a sigh, as you approached and stopped at your quarters. "Fine." The pout was replaced by a smile at his word, the two of you standing outside your door. You looked up at him expectantly, waiting for him to say something.

"Goodnight, my love." He spoke it into existence. The expression on his face looked like he was waiting for you to wince in disgust. That's what he meant to say? You smiled, fighting back the urge to squeal. "Goodnight, darling." You replied, the smile on your face shifting into a knowing grin. You stepped forward and kissed his cheek, making a small "mwah" sound when you pulled away. Your lipstick had stained his cheek, and you reached up to wipe it off with a thumb. His hand clamped around your wrist, stopping you before you could wipe it away. "Don't." You observed him more closely and saw a familiar red creep up his neck, and it only made you smile more. "Okay, okay. But really, goodnight." You lowered your hand, and he let go of your wrist. But you took his hand, squeezing it lightly and relishing in the feeling. He nodded, holding your hand in his palm as if it was glass. After a few moments, you both let go of each other's hand reluctantly, as if it burned you both to pull away. But, sleep waited for no one. You smiled one last time, waving Goodnight as he turned around and left. When you were in your room finally, you practically squealed into your pillow out of happiness.

(This is meant to be the end but I added on this last part just for fun :3)

The next night, you two walked side by side throughout the empty corridors. A comfortable silence fell over you both as you approached your familiar quarters. The lipstick you left last night had been washed off, obviously. He wasn't going to teach classes with lipstick on his cheek.

Before he left for the dungeon, you both bid goodnight. Since last night, you had felt more giddy. Maybe too giddy. Because when he said goodnight again, you couldn't help yourself. You leaned up and peppered his cheek in red kisses, a grin on your face. "Sorry, darling." You smiled bashfully, amused at the sight of his red cheek thanks to you. He didn't utter a word. He pulled you in gently, his dark cape wrapping around you slightly as he leaned down to give you a proper kiss.

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There were very few things that threw the physicians of the ED off. After getting some of the worst cases on a regular basis, their perception of “normal” was quite skewed.

So it didn’t take more than a second for the hairs on the back of Santos’ neck to stick up the second the elevator doors slid open to reveal the infamous Dr. Park. Her fingers stilled over the keyboard, having found a few minutes in the unusual calm of the late afternoon to get some charting done.

Her eyes narrow as The Shark strides his way over in a direction everyone has unspokenly deemed as a ‘do not disturb’ zone. He was making his way right toward you, one of the newest, but best, additions to the day shift.

It’s not that you’d been an unfamiliar face, you were a regular on the night shift, having worked side by side with Abbot for years. He’d grumpily helped introduce you to the day shift one morning when he had worked a few extra hours, branding you with his seal of approval. “She’s one of the best nurses this place has ever seen. Take good care of her for us until she’s back where she belongs,” he’d stated with a straight face, though the swift squeeze on your shoulder told everyone that he genuinely meant what he said.

It hadn’t take long for them to really see what he meant. You were effectively given the perfect opportunity to prove yourself on your first shift, handling back to back MVCs after a pileup without breaking a sweat. You were just as competent if not more competent than even some of the residents, quick on your feet, adaptable in a crisis, and an efficient nurse. Everyone who worked in the department was good, but you were one of the best. And you did it all with ease, always smiling brightly afterward like the cases never phased you.

It took even less time for them to learn why the night shift had been so forlorn about losing you. You were a genuine voice of encouragement when they needed it, a calm voice of reason in stressful moments, a reassuring face when the mood was down, and a sense of tranquility when it got rough. And it also helped that you were always prepared with a granola bar when they got hangry and homemade treats every Friday to boost morale. There was nothing you couldn’t do.

Except now.

You’d joined the day shift a few months back and over the weeks it became apparent why you’d switched. Your excuse had been a light and nonchalant, “my husband and I agreed night shift wouldn’t work for a while.” More directly, you were pregnant. Through the weeks, your bump had steadily grown. Now, you were into your final trimester and more protected than any royal on the face of the planet.

You’d been demoted put in charge of taking calls and filling out charts from the comfort of a fancy lumbar support chair and straightforward triage cases when you got antsy. And that was only because you refused to take your leave until you were ready to give birth. They’d all but begged you to take your time off and enjoy the calmness of being home, but you refused with a nonchalant wave of your hand and a playful roll of your eyes.

Which is exactly why Santos was quick to attempt an interception with the orthopedic surgeon with a cold, “we didn’t call for an ortho consult.”

Dr. Park didn’t even spare her a glance, “I’m not here for any of you.”

Her jaw tightened, watching as he stopped in front of you and braced his arms on the counter above you. She was on the defense, pretending not to listen while now pretending to chart. She needed to be ready to jump to your protection, she wasn’t going to leave you vulnerable to Park’s attacks. She’d only worked with him a couple times, but even those few times were enough to learn that you didn’t deserve any of his usual wrath.

She wracked her brain to try to recall if you’d been on any cases that required any contact with Dr. Park. She couldn’t think of any. For weeks now, you’d been either behind a desk or out in triage handling nothing but the easy cases to keep you away from any heavy lifting or potentially aggressive patients. What could you, the very definition of angel on earth, have possibly have done from your lumbar supportive throne?

“Hey, gorgeous,” Park greeted you in a low voice, drawing your attention away from the screen with the straw of your tumbler between your lips.

“Well, well, well, how nice of you to grace us plebes with your presence, Dr. Park,” you teased, an amused smile spreading across your lips.

Santos huffed under her breath, annoyed that her position meant she could hardly hear you. How was she meant to come to your rescue if she didn’t even know what was being said? She signed off quickly and moved over to the rack that held all the tablets under the pretense of organizing them.

“What are your plans for dinner tonight?” Trinity hears the surgeon ask you, causing the resident to bite her lip and draw in a sharp breath. This interaction is the last thing she was expecting. Not only are you obviously pregnant, you’re also obviously married. That boulder on your finger is hardly subtle and hey, she might not know anything about your husband, but she at least knows he exists. This guy is… shameless!

“I don’t have anything confirmed just yet,” you reply with a sweet smile before you reach out to hand a clipboard to a passing Perlah, “I think my husband is finally going to order the Italian I’ve been craving for weeks now.”

Trinity fist pumps in her mind. Hell yeah, way to make it clear that you’re taken, happily married, and duh, not interested in Dr. Park anyway. She holds back a scoff at the obvious display of male bravado. What, he thinks just because he’s some hot shot ortho that women will drop whatever they’re doing for him? Cheat on their husbands? Ruin their marriages? For him? Gross.

The corners of his lips imperceptibly twitch upward, “how about I make us a well-balanced dinner instead? Fresh salad with lots of iron, nice grilled protein, roasted veggies, and that fancy lemonade I know you like.”

“My idea sounds better,” you smile sarcastically in response, eyes sparkling with delight.

Park exhales with a shake of his head, “you know what your playing hard to get does to me.”

Trinity bites back a gag, deciding it’s time to step in. Not only is he clearly incapable of reading social cues, he’s violating definitely violating a handful of HR policies, and just killing the vibe of the ED. She steps forward, voice steady, “she’s saying no.”

Yet again, she’s not even graced with eye contact as he replies, “not talking to you, R2.”

“You don’t have to be talking to me. I’m sure you’re in violation of plenty hospital HR policies right now and Angel is just tying to be nice. Just run along to your OR and leave us be,” Trinity reiterates as she steps closer with her arms crossed, Ahmed’s name on the tip of her tongue if Park decides to give her a tough time.

Your giggle throws her off for just a second as Park rolls his shoulders with a breathy groan, “HR doesn't need to get involved when the woman I’m flirting with is my wife.”

Her eyes widen as her breath catches in her throat, “your wife?”

“Six years in October,” you confirm gently.

Both of them are quick to rush to your side as you stand from the chair to reach for a tablet, though you’re quick to swat them away in favor of giving Trinity a warm squeeze on the arm, “I promise he’s not bothering me and I’m sorry for making you think you had to protect me. He thinks the flirting still works on me.”

“It does,” Brendon grunts, lifting your tumbler in your direction the second you begin to reach for it.

You roll your eyes, “I’ll find you sexy again when you buy me my damn pizza and pasta or when I’m completely healed from birthing your giant baby.”

“Pizza and pasta are not a balanced—” he starts.

You lower yourself back into your chair, welcoming Trinity’s help while smacking away the hands of your husband. “You’ve never been less sexy to me, Brendon. Get the hell out of here before I find you case to work on,” you threaten with a hand splayed over the apex of your bump.

He’s quick to glance at the board, “there’s nothing for me down here.”

“Goodbye, Brendon!” You bid as you lean back in your chair with a raise of your brows.

“Fine, I’ll get you your Italian tonight,” he grunts, “I also came down to give you your vitamins that you forgot on the counter and your favorite trail mix. I love you.”

You gratefully accept the snack, swallowing your vitamins quickly to prevent him from nagging you any further. “Thank you, my love. I love you too, now go before you scare anymore of my residents. Whitaker’s been hiding out in peds with a colicky baby since you got down here,” you wave off.

Park’s spine straightens, reverting to his usual macho persona, though you recognize the warmth in his eyes as he steps away from the nurse’s station. “I’ll come down for you when our shifts are done. Don’t even think about leaving this building alone,” he warns before turning on his heel to make his way back to the elevator.

“Don’t let her leave alone,” he instructs Santos with a cold glare, before nodding once at you, a silent ‘I love you,’ before the elevator doors slide shut.

“Don’t listen to him,” you reassure Trinity with a light smile, “I’m a big girl. I can handle making my way to the car just fine. He won’t do anything to you. Especially because he knows you’re one of my favorites and he knows better than to piss me off this far into carrying his big-headed spawn.”

Trinity nods with a pleased smile, "I like this sassy side of you, Angel."

You let out a bright laugh, "what can I say? My husband brings it out of me."

Brendon Park doesn't think he's ever been as happy as he has been these last four months. Four months of complete and utter bliss. He never used to believed it when people said they'd found their "other halves." He now thought that past version of himself was an idiot. He does whatever you mention, ask, and even think of asking happily.

He'd introduced you as his "partner" one time and gotten an earful from you after. "If I wanted a partner, I'd go into business with somebody. I'm your girlfriend, got it?" You'd snapped heatedly. Immediately, he agreed. Suddenly, being a 40-something-year-old man with a girlfriend didn't feel immature, not when you told him otherwise. In fact, he was ecstatic to have a girlfriend.

He was so happy that he wanted to tell everyone. He even wanted to let the interns at work know, the mailmen, the barista who made his coffees before work, anybody who would listen. He wanted so badly to tell Yolanda, to thank her for setting the two of you up, for trusting him enough to send her best friend on a date with him. Without her approval, he'd have never have found happiness. He owed her thanks and she had no idea...

"Hey, doll?" He calls out, not even looking up from the dinner he's serving for the both of you, "when are you thinking you'll tell Yolanda about us?"

He hears your snort, "I'm not even sure about you yet."

He smiles to himself as he shakes his head, walking out to the living room with both plates of dinner in hand. Sure, you're still iffy about him. It's so obvious from the way you're sprawled across his couch, wearing his clothes, and proudly sporting various bruises from his mouth and hands across your neck and thighs.

"Of course," he concedes, "how silly of me."

You plop yourself beside him, placing a glass of wine in front of him while he slides the dinner he made in front of you. You stab your fork into the food with a happy hum.

The corner of his lip quirks up at the sound, "how was lunch with my mom?"

"I can't believe an amazing woman like her birthed a man like you. I love your mom," you laugh, leaning over to wipe the corner of his mouth with your thumb.

He leans into your touch, tucking your hair behind your ear, "she's obsessed with you. She sent me more texts than I can count about how much she just adores you after your lunch. In the four months of us being together, you've been to the country club for lunch with my mother more than I ever have."

"I enjoy her company," you nod.

Dinner passes by with soft recollections of your days. He tells you about a few cases and you offer details of your day off. He listens intently, asking you questions because he'd rather break his own leg than miss out on any detail you're willing to offer.

Still, in the back of his mind, he's stuck on the fact that you don't want your best friend to know you're in a happy relationship. You can deny it all you want, but he knows you're happy. He'd starve, go broke, lose sleep, lose it all if it made you happy. Thankfully, it hasn't gotten to that point and he doesn't think it ever would.

You look over at him, noticing the unfocused look in his eye. You place a gentle hand on his knee, "I really like you. You make me happy, Bren."

"Good," he nods with a soft smile, "that's all I can ask for."

You gnaw on the inside of your lip, contemplating your next words, "it's not that I don't want to tell Yo... it's just that— God! I'd never hear the end of it from her! She sets me up with an ortho gym bro and I fall for him! I mean, ew!"

Brendon feels himself tense, having expected some deep, dark past with past dates, maybe a name or two he'd have to track down and get rid of. This is so much better. The tension in his shoulders melts into soft shakes as he laughs loudly and brightly.

He pulls you into his lap, your knees caging either side of his waist like it's second nature. He places his hands on your hips, pressing his lips to the side of your neck between muttered words, "you're right. I'm your worst nightmare."

You nod with a dramatic pout, while he tilts his head back to pepper your neck and face with kisses. His hands are gentle, voice a soft croon, "take your time. I don't mean to rush you."

You let out a soft sigh at the feeling of his lips, it slips out despite your trying to keep it in. Your hands cup the back of his head, a teasing smile spreads across your lips as you look down at him, "I'm gonna make you wait it out. A long time."

"I'll wait as long as you need," he nods, pupils blown with adoration, "I'm not going anywhere."

divider from cursed-carmine <3

☀︎ 𖤓 ☀︎ 𖤓 ☀︎ 𖤓 ☀︎ 𖤓 ☀︎ 𖤓 ☀︎ 𖤓 ☀︎ 𖤓 ☀︎ 𖤓 ☀︎ 𖤓 ☀︎ 𖤓 ☀︎ 𖤓 ☀︎ 𖤓 ☀︎ 𖤓

☀︎ 𖤓 ☀︎ 𖤓 ☀︎ 𖤓 ☀︎ 𖤓 ☀︎ 𖤓 ☀︎ 𖤓 ☀︎ 𖤓 ☀︎ 𖤓 ☀︎ 𖤓 ☀︎ 𖤓 ☀︎ 𖤓 ☀︎ 𖤓 ☀︎ 𖤓

John Shen who curses when his usual Dunkin' Donuts drive-through is closed for renovations. If there was anything worse than him stepping in a puddle with socks on this morning in his bathroom, it was the lack of caffeine he was going to feel if he didn't find anything in the next hour. 

John Shen who manages to find a little corner café a block away from the PTMC with good reviews. So of course he decides to pop in for a visit.

John Shen who stares at the very minimalist coffee menu. The syrup options were close to non-existent, sugary add-ons missing entirely, though the selection of coffee beans was more than extensive. But there was a reason he usually went to Dunkin' Donuts and not to bougie places like this.

John Shen who likes his caffeine with a ton of sugar and lets you know when you ask for his order, embarrassed cheeks flaming red as you smiled cheekily back. Because you were the same, though the hipster coffee place payed much more than the other chains so you had kept a little collection of sugary add-ons for your own consumption. 

"How about I make up something for you? We'll say it's from our secret menu." With it being the evening, there were barely any other patrons around so you could take your time with this customer, maybe even have a little fun.

John Shen who watches you pull out a few bottles of syrup that were not listed on the menu, seeing you move about like you knew exactly what he wanted. You even quickly manually whipped up some whipped cream, adding it to the top of your concoction with a satisfied hum. 

John Shen who swears that the drink is the best thing he's had in ages. So of course he keeps coming back, even with the Dunkin drive through having re-opened. And every time he comes back he watches you create different drinks for him. Apparently the first one you had made was a caramel-hazelnut iced shaken espresso with little sugar stars confetti, the second one had been a raspberry jam donut inspired latte, and the current one John was holding in his hand was a banana tiramisu iced coffee with hints of chocolate. There had of course been other coffees, each as creative as the other and John looked forward to discovering what you had made up for him every time. 

John Shen who now considers you a friend. Every time he comes around he learns more about you, about how you were in nursing school and worked night shifts at the café for some extra spending money. He also learns about your music taste, promising to listen to your favorite artist's new album. He'd even baked you a little bento type cake, remembering how you said that it was almost your birthday.

It wasn't that you two didn't want to hang out outside of the coffee runs, but between your busy schedule of nursing school and coffee shifts, and John's night shifts, your schedules were complete opposites.

John Shen who realises that he's grown feelings for you when during one of his usual coffee runs another barista welcomes him in, sending him a confused look when he had asked if she had a secret menu of her own. That day he left the café with a simple vanilla iced latte with extra sugar, shoulders drooping, evidence of his crush still in mind. He wonders where you were; Usually you'd tell him if you weren't on shift so that he could plan accordingly and stop at Dunkin' but it seemed like something was amiss. 

John Shen who starts his shift under-caffeinated and emotions out of whack, jumping in surprise when a light brown iced coffee topped with sugary sweet whipped cream slides into his hands while he looks over handover charts. His head snaps towards the sender and he does a double take when he sees you, waving, in light blue nursing scrubs, smiling your usual sweet smile.

John Shen who thanks whatever higher power there is as you surprise him with the news of being accepted to the PTMC for the clinical portion of your nursing school; Better yet, you were part of the night shift though it was in orthopaedics, but at this point it feels like a win. 

John Shen who can't wait to ask you out, now that your schedules are finally aligned.

"....what the fock was tha'?" Ghost freezes above you mid-thrust. Forearm braced above your head, breath hot against the curve of your neck.

Ghost is the space between a pulled trigger and the target it hits, the breathe of every soldier on a battle field. You should know nothing gets past him. You whine, low and needy and intentional, squeeze around his cock and push at his chest "c'mon si...why did you stop?"

Ghost narrows his eyes, fully sits up until he's resting on his heels, arms crossed and thighs keeping your legs spread open. "Stop that. Fuckin– stop it."

You twist in the sheets like a trapped animal, try to entice him to keep moving. Using all those tricks because you know he likes it from the way his cock twitches—

"I. Said. Stop." Two large hands pin you down, and when you finally meet ghost's eyes he looks furious "thought I wouldn't notice that fake shit? Fuckin' mocking me?"

Your stomach twists when he thrusts in, slow and deep, studying your every expression. "You think i can't make you scream? Can't please you?"

"You do! Si– you do please me–" you try to plead, clenching tight at the next thrust. "It's not because of that! You feel good, I promise–"

"Then what? Huh?" Another, deeper thrust that has your mind nearly shutting off from pleasure. His whole body rolls into it, more consciously putting on a performance for you now.

"It's...I...I don't make noise, si. I'm not loud." You whisper, face pinched. "I didn't want you to think I'm not enjoying it..."

For a moment, ghost just stares at you.

He lowers himself down, muscles moving under skin like a predator stalking prey. Full of potential to ruin you. His arms cage you in until all you can focus on is ghost.

"I want to hear you. Got it? Don't care what it sounds like so long as 's you." He grumbles, really settles his weight back into you.

Tentatively, you nod.

"Good. See? Wasn't so hard, now was it?" He pulls nearly all the way out, tucks back into your neck, and fucks you like he's trying to prove a point.

Quiet gasps, small whimpers and nothing more falls from your lips. Your orgasm is silent only in voice when you rake your hands along his back hard enough to break skin. When you have to bite into his shoulder after the second.