“Hey, Dana? Got a sec?” Robby asked in a low voice, leaning over the counter.
“Why?” She took off her glasses and looked at him.
“I got a patient in Trauma 2 and she’s… jittery. I need an ortho consult for her arm and hip but she doesn’t want to. She keeps asking to be transferred to Westboro or any other hospital.” He explained, “And she’s got bruises that aren’t from the accident.”
Dana looked over at Trauma 2, where you were sitting, leaning back, staring at the ceiling. You were cradling your arm to yourself, the team had wrapped it but it still needed to be looked at once the X-rays came down.
You smiled and nodded as someone administered medication and it was obvious that you wanted to leave even though you were being as polite as possible.
“I’ll check it out.” Dana patted Robby’s shoulder and moved towards the room you were in.
Meanwhile, you were sitting and hoping that someone would come with the good news that you were getting transferred.
“Hey- I’m Dana.” She entered, closing the door behind her and drawing the curtain. “You got a minute to talk?”
You smiled and sat up a little, then winced in pain. “Sorry- Just really sore. Am I getting the transfer?”
“Uh- Not yet.” She looked over her shoulder then pulled a stool to sit next to the bedside. “Is there a reason you don’t wanna be here? At this hospital?”
“Yeah, I usually go to Westboro or Sacred Heart. I was just near here so they brought me here and I wasn’t very lucid to advocate for myself.” You gave a nervous laugh.
“And there’s no other reason?” She asked, eyeing you carefully.
“No, ma’am.” You swallowed but she noticed you stiffening up a little.
“Okay… okay. Is there someone we can call or-” She started but you shook your head.
“No! I mean- I- No. I’m fine. I just wanna get out of your hair-” You said immediately.
“Okay.” She nodded, watching you fidget with your wedding ring. “You married?” She asked softly.
“I- Yeah-” You smiled, looking at your hand. “Three years now.”
“He’s a good guy?” She asked.
“He looks mean but he’s-” You pause then sigh deeply. “Are you here to ask if I’m being abused?”
“Dr Robby saw bruises that weren’t related to the crash. We have to do our duediligence.” She explained with a gentle smile.
“I’m not- It’s not abuse-” You flushed deeply. “We’re just very passionate and he’s stronger and gets very-” You cleared your throat as you shied away from explaining that your husband was an animal in bed.
“Robby called for an ortho consu-” Park entered and stared at you, saw Dana, then turned and walked away.
“That was new.” Dana mumbled then looked at you. You laughed nervously, trying to not show anything. “So, I’m gonna ask again, can I call someone for you?”
“I- My husband is my emergency contact but I don’t wanna bother him.” You said quietly.
“Honey, you might have a broken arm and a fractured hip. You’re gonna need to call someone.” She said softly, reaching to hold your hand and give it a squeeze. “Maybe a sibling? Or a parent?”
You shook your head again. “No. They’d all call him immediately so-” You sighed. “I’m fine… Really.” You gave a small smile.
A few minutes later, Garcia walked in, confused. “Shark refused the consult.” She whispered to Dana and gave you a smile to start your consultation as Robby came back again.
Broken radius, and fractured ilium with a lot of bruising on your ribcage.
You nodded through the diagnosis and then the explanation of how you may need surgery for the arm but everything else can be wrapped and heal on its own. And then once again, someone emphasised that you needed to call someone.
The room was full of interns, student doctors and Robby, explaining your condition when Park walked back in. He was no longer in scrubs but the same jeans and shirt he’d been wearing when he’d left home in the morning.
Robby raised a brow as he entered. No one had ever seen him on the floor in casuals.
“We good?” He asked slowly.
“Good. Continue.” Park nodded and pulled a stool to sit next to your bedside, taking your hand in his.
It took Robby a good thirty seconds to finally realise why you wanted to be transferred to another hospital. You were saving them from the Shark, not trying to run away.
“Brendon- I was just-” You looked at Robby worriedly.
“I know.” He nodded, eyes still locked on Robby.
The room that had been buzzing was now very, very silent. One intern was now focused on the IV pump, another found the curtains very fascinating. The student doctors were transfixed on the floor.
“Okay.” Robby clapped his hands, “Learning moment’s over. How about everyone go so I can have a moment with our patient and… spouse?” He added carefully and Park nodded once. “Right…”
Once the room was empty and only the three of you remained, Robby turned to you both again.
“How bad?” Park asked. His voice was unwavering but he was obviously worried with how hard he was holding your hand.
Robby silently pulled up the Xrays to show him. Park sighed deeply then looked at you.
“You should’ve called me.” He spoke gently which made Robby’s brows meet his hairline.
“I didn’t wanna pull you from your shift.” You whispered back.
“My shift?” Park hissed and Robby cleared his throat. “We’ll talk about this later.” He pouted and turned to Robby, shoulders dropping a little. “Garcia will do the surgery since I can’t.”
Robby nodded in agreement, looking over his shoulder, a small crowd was just walking past, constantly sneaking peeks of Shark and you, and whispering.
“As soon as we’ve got an OR, we’ll move you up.” Robby explained. “And uh-” He paused. “Dana might wanna talk to you-”
“Dana? Why?” Park’s brows furrowed.
“The bruises-” You whispered to him and he glares at Robby.
“I am not explaining how I love my wife.” He was appalled at even the notion.
“Right! Of course! But you know! Hospital policy.” Robby backed away with a smile and exited the room quickly.
You turned to Park with a smile. “You really have a reputation, huh?” You laughed softly. “They have no idea how gooey you are at home.”
“Stop… I’m a tough guy.” He smiled a little.
“The doctor before- The woman. She called you Shark. I never thought they seriously called you that.” You giggled some more and he rolled his eyes, leaning to kiss your forehead.
“I told you I’m a scary guy at work.” He said softly.
“Sure thing, fish boy.” You mused.
Outside the room, Robby was explaining the situation to Dana, whilst Whitker and Santos were eavesdropping.
“What… is happening right now?” Mel asked Dennis as she too stared at the scene unfolding in Trauma 2.
“Shark might actually be human.” Dennis whispered back.
“Who would’ve thought.” Trinity nodded in surprise.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Dr. Brendon "The Shark" Park x Sunshine! Pregnant! reader
Summary: How Shark found out he was going to be a dad + how they welcomed their little girl into the world with an unexpected surprise.
Warning: Swearing, Brendon Park himself, Age difference, Height difference. Grumpy and Sunshine. Possible medical inaccuracies. There's talk of growing up in the system.
Words: 4277
Taglist: @my-whole-brain-is-crying @leksi-rae @chelle-1515 @minienix @mythologicallyversed @mxtokko @tears-of-acid-and-sluts @susp3ndedindusk @helenaellie @rei-scorpio @ivy-stuffs @dutch3-10 @catharticdesire @sidneysidney123 @fics-from-the-dead @eddiemunsonguitar @thedragonsrose @mynameisbaby9 @simply-lovley44 @dr3obsessed @mayabbot @bbblackmamba @harryswizzle @alphafemale-15 @rabbotseatcarrots @b38596012 @lipsunsmokedcigarette @pastlecow @kingtitus @stevieharrington71 @asfaraslifegets @noyaisasimp @loki-trickst3r @miahelen @xoxoloverb @brown-eyes-cello-and-books @seitmai @boricuas-fic-recs @outpostsworld @ohheyitssj @thedragonsrose @justanothersadperson93 @hcrm @vastscoutweapon @multifandom301 @travelingmypassion @carson1gg @mintoblobo @redhooduwu @twdhtgawm @annabethboleyn @ichibella @ramenblutte @happyendingarentreal @gardeniarose13 @jgoose13 @ilocuras24 @noxytopy
You were utterly submerged in the rhythmic domesticity of folding laundry, your headphones snug and your hips swaying—almost instinctively—to the music that anchored your private world. You had squeezed every drop of productivity from your day off: an exhaustive marathon of errands, heavy shopping bags filled with the absurdly expensive luxuries Brendon favored, and the endless hum of the washing machine.
Yet, there wasn't a flicker of resentment for having "wasted" your freedom on chores. Each time you smoothed a T-shirt or triumphed in matching a pair of socks—a feat far more complex than it seemed, as if they possessed a supernatural urge to vanish—a small, secret smile tugged at your lips. You couldn't stop visualizing your husband’s reaction.
Would he mirror your radiance? Or would he succumb to the phantom of panic since, in his own haunting words, "he’d never been granted a decent paternal example"? That doubt lingered in the back of your mind, but it only served as the fuel for your fire. Everything had to be impeccable. Today wasn't just housework; it was a silent, frantic race to ensure every detail of your home was a sanctuary. The life already blossoming within you deserved nothing less. It hadn't been a calculated pursuit—simply a choice to stop running, to step back and let fate take the lead.
Now that fate had spoken, Brendon deserved to hear the echo in a way he’d never forget. Between cycles of the wash, you had choreographed the moment perfectly. You wanted him to step through that door after a grueling shift at the hospital and find more than just a clean house—you wanted him to find the threshold of his new reality, neatly packaged in a box on the table containing a pair of tiny, shark-printed shoes.
You were so lost in your own thoughts, the music acting as a barricade against the world, that you missed the subtle creak of the front door. You didn't hear the heavy, exhausted sigh as Brendon dropped his keys into the ceramic bowl. You were still lost in the melody, carrying the final stack of clean clothes toward the dressing room, when large, warm hands suddenly cinched around your waist.
The shock was electric. You jumped, the sudden jolt sending a freshly folded cotton shirt tumbling to the floor. You spun quickly within his grasp, headphones still clinging to your ears, to meet your husband’s gaze. The exhaustion of a marathon shift in the operating room was etched into the tension of his shoulders, but his eyes held that soft, guarded light—the look he reserved exclusively for you—that never failed to make your pulse skip.
You slid the headphones down around your neck, discarding them onto the nearest surface without a thought.
"Your first day off in weeks and you spend it on labor, Sunny..."
"I slept in, Bren. Then I had a proper breakfast, got dressed, and conquered the shops," you replied with a tender smile, looping your arms around his neck and grazing the skin at his nape. "I bought those steaks you love. And I finally caught up on the laundry."
"You spoil me, Doll," he rasped. Before you could offer a retort, he closed the distance between you until there wasn't an inch of air to breathe.
His hands migrated from your hips to cradle your face with a fierce, possessive urgency as he kissed you. It was deep and desperate—a kiss born of longing and necessity, but anchored in a profound, quiet love. You felt the rigidity leave his frame as he melted against you, his thumbs tracing your cheekbones with a slowness that felt almost reverent.
"I’ve missed you every damn second of those sixteen hours," he whispered against your mouth, his warm breath ghosting over your skin. "I needed this. To feel you."
A lump of pure emotion tightened your throat. He had no inkling of the miracle growing in your womb—the tiny spark you had both kindled. You pulled back just enough to hold his gaze, keeping your hands on his chest with a mischievous glint in your eyes.
"Well, I’m right here... and I have something for you."
You slipped from his hold and walked to the dining table, where the small box rested on the dark oak. You lifted it with trembling care, as if the contents were made of spun glass, and returned to him. Brendon watched you with mounting intrigue, leaning lazily against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, a weary half-smile playing on his lips.
"A gift?" He arched a skeptical brow. "Doll, it’s not an anniversary or a birthday. You don’t need to buy me things."
"Just shut up and open it, Bren," you whispered, thrusting the box toward him, your heart hammering against your ribs.
He gave a soft, amused huff and took the package. His long, steady surgeon's fingers made quick work of the black ribbon, drawing out the suspense. But the moment he lifted the lid, the world went silent. His blue eyes locked onto the miniature shoes—tiny blue sharks, so small they could be swallowed by the palm of his hand.
He froze. He barely blinked, his analytical brain seemingly paralyzed by the image. The weariness evaporated, replaced by a sudden, stark pallor and a look of profound wonder.
"Doll..." His voice was a fractured whisper, his breath hitching as he delicately lifted one of the booties. "Tell me this isn't just a joke... tell me you didn't just find the design funny."
He looked up, searching your eyes for the permission to believe it.
"It’s not a joke, Bren. I’m nine weeks pregnant," you confirmed, your voice thick with tears. You placed your hands over his, which were still clutching the tiny shoe. "We’re having a baby, Big Guy."
The silence that followed was heavy and sacred. Brendon looked back down at the shoe, and for the first time in your years together, you watched a single, solitary tear track down his cheek.
Without a word, he sank to his knees. He pressed his forehead against your stomach, his arms wrapping around your waist with a desperate, grounding strength. It was the gesture of a man who had just found a new center of gravity.
"Nine weeks... a baby," he muffled against you, the vibration of his voice humming through your skin. "God, I’m going to be a father. I swear to you, Doll... I swear on my life I’ll be the best for them."
He stood, cupping your face once more to kiss you with a tenderness that nearly broke you.
"I'm buying a portable ultrasound machine," he announced, a flash of his usual professional authority returning as he wiped your tears away. "I don't care what it costs. I want to see this baby and hear that heart whenever we want."
"An ultrasound machine, Bren?" you laughed through your sobs. "That’s insane, it’s not even your specialty."
"I’m an orthopedic surgeon, Doll. I can read an image better than half the residents in that building," he countered with that characteristic touch of arrogance that made you smile. "Besides, I’m not letting our peace of mind depend on a waiting list. If I need to hear that little heart beating at three in the morning just so I can sleep, then I will."
"I married a madman," you joked, leaning into him.
"You married the man who is going to protect you and that baby better than anyone on earth," he corrected fiercely. "Tomorrow, I’m calling Dr. Bishop. She’s the best OB in the city and she owes me for fixing her mother’s hip. You’ll be seen in her private clinic. You’ll just have to tolerate me wanting to listen to the heartbeat every five minutes."
He folded you into his arms, and in that embrace, you felt like the safest person in existence. He fell silent, resting his cheek atop your head as you both stared at the tiny shoe on the table. The "Shark" had finally laid down his armor.
"It’s going to be so small, isn't it?" he asked suddenly, his voice laced with genuine awe. "The bones... they'll be so delicate. God, I’ll have to learn not to squeeze too hard when I hold them."
"You won't hurt them. They'll be in the best hands in the world," you assured him, rubbing his back. "You’re going to be an incredible father, Big Guy. Overprotective, but incredible."
In that moment of raw vulnerability, it was clear: Brendon was already as deeply in love with the baby as he was with you. It didn't matter how formidable he was in the OR or how much he terrified his residents; here, in the quiet of your home, he was simply a man captivated by the new life beginning to pulse within you.
"I'll be whatever you need," he promised, kissing your hair. "Rest now, Doll. I’ll take care of you both."
He wasn't lying.
Nine months later, you were a study in heavy, aching anticipation. Your daughter was a tempest, kicking your ribs with a relentless energy she had clearly inherited from her father. You felt as though you might split at the seams, yet stubbornness—another trait you shared with your husband—drove you from the bed. You wanted to brew one last pot of coffee for Brendon while he showered, preparing for his final shift before paternity leave.
But as your feet hit the floor, it wasn't a contraction that halted you. It was a strange, sudden rush of heat—the unmistakable sensation of liquid soaking through your clothes and pooling onto the hardwood. You froze, staring at the puddle with the eerie, detached composure that only an ER nurse could maintain in a crisis.
The bathroom door creaked open, and Brendon emerged in a shroud of steam, a towel slung low on his hips and his torso still glistening with droplets. He stopped dead when he saw you standing there, staring blankly at the floor. His blue eyes swept the room, processing the scene in a fraction of a second. There was no first-time-father panic; there was only the absolute, chilling calm of a surgeon.
"Bren... I just—" Your voice was a thin whisper.
"I know, Doll. It seems our daughter has a very loose interpretation of due dates," he replied. His voice was so steady it sent a shiver of pure relief down your spine.
There was no frantic rushing. Brendon dropped the towel and dressed with the clinical efficiency of a soldier on a mission. In a heartbeat, you were swept into his arms and carried down to the garage. He settled you into the leather interior of his BMW X6, reclining the seat just enough to keep you secure but comfortable.
"Bren, the upholstery..." you wheezed as a fresh contraction stole your breath.
"I can replace leather, Doll. I can't replace you two. The only thing that matters is getting you to that hospital," he said, cinching the belt over your belly with a tenderness that brought tears to your eyes.
He rounded the hood in three long strides and slid into the driver's seat. With a flick of his wrist, the engine roared to life. The drive was a masterclass in precision. Brendon kept one hand locked on the wheel, carving through the morning fog with surgical accuracy, while his other hand sought yours, squeezing tight every time a contraction forced your back to arch. His eyes flicked between the road and you, monitoring your vitals as if you were his most critical patient.
"She had to pick rush hour," you hissed through gritted teeth. Pittsburgh’s morning traffic was a legendary hellscape; the path to PTMC felt like an impossible gauntlet.
A new contraction, far more violent than the last, forced your eyes shut. You gripped his thigh with a force that would have made any other man falter, but Brendon didn't flinch. He absorbed your pain as if it were his own.
"She’s impatient. Clearly, she didn't get that from me," he joked, his voice a low rumble designed to ground you as he swerved around a delivery truck. "Breathe, Doll. You’re doing perfectly. You’re the strongest woman I’ve ever known."
"God, I don't think I'm doing this again, Bren..." you gasped, the pressure becoming unbearable. "I'm sorry..."
"Don't you dare apologize. Not for this," he countered instantly, his voice thick with devotion. He kept his left hand fixed on the wheel, dodging a slow-moving sedan, while his right hand remained a steady weight on your leg. "If this impatient little girl is the only one we ever have, she’ll be the luckiest, most loved child in this fucking world. I don't need another miracle to know how incredible you are. I just need you two safe."
You looked at his profile—a sharp, concentrated line of marble. There was no trace of the panic a normal father would feel. He was a surgeon in the middle of the most vital operation of his life, and you were his only priority.
"Bren... she’s crowning," you exhaled, the downward pressure forcing you to arch against the leather.
The atmosphere in the car shifted instantly. The air grew dense, electric. Brendon’s jaw tightened until the muscle looked carved from stone. You were gridlocked just blocks from the hospital. Time had run out.
"Damn it," he growled, though his voice remained low. "Okay, Doll. Listen to me. We aren't waiting for this traffic to move. We both know she isn't going to wait for a parking spot."
He shifted in his seat, placing a firm, steady hand on your stomach.
"Unbuckle the belt. Get your pants off. Now, beautiful. Don't worry about the car, just focus on me."
"We should call Dana... tell her to get the OB team ready..." you managed to stutter, your hands trembling as you fumbled with the fabric.
Brendon didn't take his eyes off you, but he slammed the hands-free button. "Call Dana Evans," he commanded. "Now, Doll. Get rid of the clothes. Forget everything else. Let's bring our daughter home."
The phone rang over the speakers just as you managed to kick the clothes to the floor. Dana’s authoritative voice filled the cabin. "Park? Why are you calling? Is everything okay with Sunshine?"
"Dana!" you shrieked, clutching the ceiling handle so hard the plastic groaned. "I’m in the car and she’s coming! I’m crowning!"
There was a half-second of silence—the time it took for a veteran nurse to shift gears. "Sunshine! Stay calm! Don’t push unless you can’t stop it! Shark! Tell me you aren't driving like a maniac!"
"We’re stuck in traffic, Dana," Brendon interrupted, his voice reaching that terrifying level of calm he only used when a life was on the line. "Clear Trauma 1. I want OB and a Neo-team standing by the bay. We're coming in hot."
He cut the call. The traffic broke, but your daughter had reached the point of no return. The "ring of fire" consumed you, and your nails dug deep into Brendon's knee.
"Don't hold back, Doll. If you have to push, push," he ordered. He covered your hand with his, welcoming the sting of your nails.
The BMW roared as Brendon tore onto the shoulder, burning rubber to bridge the final meters to the PTMC ramp. You felt a final, explosive surge of nature—a force that ripped a scream from your lungs that likely echoed through the entire ward.
"Brendon!" you cried out, your hands reaching down to catch the small, slick body of your daughter as she slid into the world.
He slammed on the brakes in front of the ER doors, the screech of tires bringing security running. The engine was still ticking, hot from the race, but the world went silent when your daughter’s first cry—a high-pitched, indignant, life-filled wail—broke the air.
Brendon unbuckled and lunged toward your seat. His surgeon’s hands, which never wavered, joined yours to hold the warm miracle against your chest. He shed his linen jacket to cover her, shielding her from the morning air. His blue eyes, usually so clinical, were shimmering.
"She’s perfect, Doll. You’re... God, you’re incredible," he whispered, kissing your sweat-soaked brow.
"She already has your look of annoyance," you joked weakly, tears finally spilling over.
The ER doors burst open. Donnie and Jesse sprinted out with a gurney, their faces a mix of terror and awe.
"I see Baby Shark is just as impatient as her mother, eh, Sunshine?" Donnie shouted, rushing to cover you with a blanket as they helped Brendon move you to the gurney.
"Shut up, Donnie!" you barked, a laugh bubbling through your sobs. "I would have made it to the ward if the traffic in this city wasn't absolute shit!"
"Hey, watch the language, Sunshine! There are innocent ears present!" Jesse teased.
As they began to wheel you inside, Donnie—ever the instigator—pulled out his phone. He had been waiting for this moment since the day he found out "Park the Shark" was the father. He hit play and turned the volume to the max.
The low, menacing notes of the Jaws theme began to thrum through the ER hallway.
Tu-tum... tu-tum... tu-tum-tu-tum...
The ward ground to a halt. Robby froze mid-note; Langdon dropped his pen; the nurses exchanged looks of pure shock. Even Dana couldn't hide her grin. The Great White Shark of Orthopedics had entered the building, not to hunt, but to protect his brood.
Brendon walked beside the gurney, his hand resting firmly on the edge. He didn't care about the ruined shirt or his fearsome reputation. He only had eyes for you and the tiny creature on your chest.
"Donnie, you're an idiot," you laughed.
"What? Baby Shark deserves the entrance of the century," he retorted as they swung you into Trauma 1.
The baby, oblivious to the soundtrack, snuggled into your skin. But the joy of the room shifted as Robby stepped forward, his expression darkening.
"You know what's crazy, Sunshine?" Robby said softly as the team began their post-birth checks. "Today is a day of miracles and cruel ironies. Baby Jane Doe came back in thirty minutes ago."
You stiffened. The memory of the little girl from the 4th of July—the one you had held until the system took her away—hit you like a physical blow. You had grieved for her, fearing the system would fail her.
"What? Why?" you asked, your heart sinking.
Robby sighed, glancing at Dana. "Her foster mother 'forgot' she was in the back seat while running errands. She was locked in the car, Sunshine. In the direct sun. A passerby had to break the glass. She's lucky to be alive."
You looked down at your own daughter, so safe and warm, and then up at Brendon. The contrast was agonizing. You had fought through a city to save your child, while Jane Doe had been left to bake in a metal tomb.
The silence in the room was deafening. Brendon stood perfectly still, but the air around him turned cold. That predatory, protective calm settled over him.
"Forgotten?" The word fell from his lips like a death sentence. His gaze turned lethal. "You’re telling me that while I nearly wrecked my car to ensure my family was safe, that woman left a child in a furnace?"
"Exactly that," Dana confirmed, her eyes bright with unshed tears. "She’s dehydrated and the heat stroke was severe, but she’s a fighter."
You felt the echo of your own childhood—the cold uncertainty of the foster system—resonate in your chest. You couldn't let it happen again. Not to her.
"Brendon," you whispered, reaching for him.
He looked at you. In his eyes was the man who had just realized his family wasn't yet complete.
"They failed you, Doll," he said, his voice a low, lethal promise only you could hear. "But we are not going to fail her. Not again. I know how hard it was to let her go the first time. Fate is screaming at us to fix this."
The room went still as his meaning sank in.
"You mean...?" Your voice broke.
"We should have done it from the start," he said, kissing your temple. "There will be no more goodbyes, Doll. Baby Jane Doe is staying with us. I don't care who I have to call—she isn't going back."
A few hours later, the frantic pulse of the ER had faded into the profound stillness of a private suite on the maternity floor. The late afternoon sun began its slow descent over Pittsburgh, hemorrhaging gold through the windows and bathing the room in a warm, ethereal glow. You were reclined against a mountain of pillows, your newborn daughter—the little "Baby Shark" who had claimed her place in the world so violently—sleeping soundly in the bassinet beside you.
The door moved on silent hinges. Brendon stepped inside, still wearing the clothes from the birth, though he had scrubbed the day’s grime from his face. The shadow of fury that had darkened his features in the Trauma Box was gone, replaced by a quiet, triumphant serenity. In his arms, he carried a small, bundled weight wrapped in an immaculate white cotton blanket.
"Brendon?" you whispered, shifting carefully.
He didn't speak. He crossed the room with the measured grace of a man who had already won the war. With the delicate precision he reserved solely for you, he leaned down and deposited the bundle into your arms.
"Emergency custody has been granted," he murmured, sitting on the edge of the mattress and draping a protective arm around your shoulders. "The judge is a former colleague, and the Chief of Surgery personally signed the suitability reports. There is no more 'Jane Doe.' The paperwork dictates she remains with us until the adoption is finalized. We’re going to need to give her a name, Doll... something other than what that woman called her."
You looked down at the infant. She was barely three months old, her cheeks still flushed from the terrifying heat she had endured, but as she felt the familiar warmth of your touch, she blinked open those sweet, dark eyes that had haunted your dreams since July. She seemed to recognize you instantly; her lips mimicked a soft, seeking motion before she curled into your chest, tucking herself directly over the beat of your heart.
"Hello again, little one," you sobbed, the tears falling unchecked as you pressed a kiss to her temple. "I promised you back in July... I promised you that someone would love you. And we are going to love you so very much. My sweet Cordelia Ondina."
The baby let out a long, shuddering sigh, as if she had finally found the only place in the world where she was truly safe. The hollow ache that had lived in your chest since she was taken from you weeks ago vanished, healing scars you hadn't even realized were open.
Brendon leaned his forehead against yours, absorbing the sight of the perfect tableau: his wife, his biological daughter, and the little girl fate had refused to let him leave behind. The three women who now held his world in their hands.
"And to think, I said we’d only have one daughter... then fate hands us two," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion as you stroked Cordelia’s cheek. Your gaze drifted to the bassinet where Baby Shark slept on.
"Fate didn't hand us anything, Doll. It simply pointed the way," he corrected in a low, gravelly rasp, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made you tremble. "We took what was ours. And neither of them... they couldn't have asked for a better mother."
"And they couldn't ask for a better guardian, Big Guy," you whispered, brushing your nose against his. "The great Park 'The Shark'—the surgeon everyone fears, who turns out to have the largest heart I’ve ever known."
In the hallowed silence of the suite, there was only the rhythmic, synchronized breathing of the two infants. Though they had arrived by vastly different paths—one born in the leather-scented sanctuary of a luxury car, the other rescued from the cold abandonment of a failing system—they now shared a home, a future, and a name.
Brendon wrapped his arms around all of you, a living shield against the world outside. His blue eyes shone with a raw vulnerability—the kind only you could draw out, and the kind you suspected his daughters would eventually command as well.
"I love you, Doll," he whispered, the words heavy with a devotion that bordered on the sacred. "I love all of you. You are everything I ever wanted... even when I was too arrogant to know I needed it."
He kissed your forehead with a lingering, reverent slowness. Outside those doors, the hospital continued its frantic, chaotic dance, but inside the bubble of the suite, time stood still. You looked from Cordelia, dozing against your heart, to the bassinet where your youngest daughter rested, knowing that your real story—the one of the Shark and his girls—was only just beginning.
Hiii there! Editor here, sorry for the delay, university homework is killing me and since i'm on my last year the bomb us with everything they have just for their own enjoyment! By the way, the name was a little idea of mine, writer didn't even knew about it
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
°˖✧✿✧˖°
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.
Summary: You went to drop off lunch and ended up face-to-face with Park the Shark.
A/N: Had to switch it up a bit. Requests are welcome! This work is entirely mine and has been proofread with Grammarly.
Masterlist
You had been to the hospital many times to spend time with your husband while he was on shift. It became a routine, a quiet way for him to take a moment away from consults and surgeries. A chance to be himself. No pressure. No expectations.
Most of the orthopedic floor staff knew who you were. How could they not, when your husband was considered one of the best? There was barely a break or detached limb he couldn’t fix.
The emergency department was loud when you arrived, the kind of sound that came with bad decisions, fireworks, and a holiday that never quite went right. You should’ve expected it
It was the Fourth of July, after all.
But the chaos down here was different from the one you were used to.
Still, you figured bringing your husband lunch on a busy day was the least you could do. You knew how these shifts often went: long, relentless, and unforgiving.
You stepped through the ED doors, scanning the chaos for him, the paper bag still warm in your hands. There had to be at least one face down here that was familiar that could guide you, but before you could look further, you heard him.
“No, that is not how you handle that!”
Your steps slowed.
Brendan’s voice cut clean through the noise, sharp and harsh, making a few heads turn. Your stomach drops.
You rounded the corner just enough to see him.
Brendan Park stood in front of a first-year resident who looked like he might be two seconds away from crying. One hand braced against the stretcher, the other pointing at the X-ray with a pen. His posture was rigid, shoulders squared, jaw set tight, every bit of him radiating that controlled, cutting authority the staff had long since learned to work around.
No one else looked surprised. A few nurses kept charting. Someone walked past as if this were just another day. Everyone knew that was how Park the Shark operated. Only the resident looked like he might fold under the pressure.
“That’s not stable,” Brendan said flatly. “It’s displaced.”
The resident hesitated. “I thought it could—”
“You thought wrong,” he snapped. “Look at it.” He tapped the screen once. “See the angulation? That’s not holding. You send them home like that, they come back worse.”
The resident swallowed, nodding quickly.
Your grip on the bag tightened. That wasn’t the man who made your coffee before you woke up. That wasn't the man who kissed you goodbye this morning.
Brendan didn’t soften.
“Next time, don’t guess,” he said sharply. “If you’re unsure, you call me immediately. Now, bring them upstairs. Prep them for surgery.”
He turned and froze. Clearly not expecting to see you.
“You’re here,” he said, the bite in his voice disappearing almost instantly.
You held up the bag, expression calm but sharp. “Garcia told me you were down here,” you said. “I brought lunch.”
There was a moment of silence, and the staff aroumd seemed to hold their breath.
You tilted your head, studying him. “I was actually looking for my husband… but I found a tool instead.”
The words landed like a scalpel. A couple of nurses froze mid-charting. Someone behind Brendan stopped walking mid-step.
Brendan blinked once. Colour crept up his neck.
“I’m working,” he said, a little too quickly, straightening his posture like he could pull the authority back over himself. “This isn’t—”
You raised an eyebrow, and he stopped.
“That’s not working,” you said evenly. “That’s you tearing into someone who clearly needed guidance, not public humiliation.”
All eyes were on you now. Someone stifled a laugh behind a chart.
Brendan’s jaw tightened. Park the Shark could have unleashed full fury, but he didn’t. He looked at you, and for a moment, the fight drained out of him.
“I–” he started, quieter now.
You stepped closer, pressing the bag into his chest. “Eat, and maybe remember that was your dumbass at some point.”
His hands came up automatically, taking it. “…Yes, ma’am,” he muttered under his breath.
Your lips twitched.
“Good. I’ll be in the break room,” you said, already stepping back. “Try not to yell at anyone else on your way up.”
And just like that, you turned and walked away.
Silence followed.
Then—
“Was that—”
“That was his wife.”
“No way.”
“Park has a wife??”
“She just shut him down.”
Brendan closed his eyes briefly, dragging a hand down his face. “…Not a word,” he muttered.
The staff didn’t listen. Someone behind him whispered, “Park the Shark just turned into a goldfish.”
protective and soft park x reader where she is assaulted by a patient…? tysm!!
"Where is she?" His voice was commanding as he walked into the ED. It was like he was a prophet, a clear path being made for him as he walked right up to the nurses station. If it was anyone else standing there, they would've cowered under his intense glare, but Dana knew how to handle men like Park the Shark.
"Going to have to be more specific," Dana said, taking her glasses off and folding them into her pocket. "I have a lot she's in this department."
Brendon basically snarled at Dana, showing a bit of teeth. "Y/N."
"Trauam One," Dana gestured to the trauma room. He walked away without a sparing glance. Emma, who had been standing behind Dana, look dumbfounded at the interaction. "Orthopod. Tough guy. . . soft as dough for his girl."
When the door to trauma one slid open, Brendon's jaw clenched. "What the hell are you doing?"
"I uh. . ." Whitaker paused, his eyes wide as he looked around the room to where Robby was standing.
You rolled your eyes, groaning at the pain in your head at the action. "He's about to retract my shoulder."
"The hell he is," Brendon sneered, walking over to where the x-ray machine was at. The room felt about twenty degrees colder as Brendon studied the x-rays with perfect practiced precision. He was the best of the best when it came to anything orthopedics. Looking at him, you wouldn't think someone as big and broad as Brendon Park could work with something as delicate as bones, but he was the one you called when you needed orthopedic miracles to happen.
"How did this happen?" Park asked, his hazel eyes cutting right over to Robby.
"A patient-"
"I was asking the chief of the department, med student," Park cut Whitaker off.
"Brendon," You scolded him. "Whitaker is a doctor now."
"Don't care," Park's eyes were still on Robby. "What happened."
Robby gestured to you, "A patient woke up in a postictal state after a grand mal seizure, he was delirious and attacked Dr. L/N. Vitals are stable, lab work is clear, waiting for a CT result. She's got slight tenderness in the back of her head, some photophobia. Obvious laceration to her forehead that's been glued with derma bond. She's got a dislocated shoulder, a couple of bruised ribs."
Brendon nodded, taking in Robby's words, his eyes honing in on you, "Pain meds? She's allergic-"
"She," You cut him off, "is right here, and yes, Doctor Robinavitch knows what I am allergic to. It's on my employee file."
Brendon again, looked right at Robby. "500 milligrams of Tylenol. Wouldn't let us give her anything stronger."
"See! Fine," You said, a smile on your face. "Can we get back to what we were doing? Whitaker?" You looked at the intern, who looked like he was being led to his death, as he shook his head and stepped out of the room. You rolled your eyes, muttering "Coward" under your breath.
"I'm going to give you a moment," Robby said, taking off his gloves. "We'll come back to set that shoulder."
"You're a coward too!" You yell at your boss as he leaves the trauma room. You glare at Brendon as he looks through your chart, not a single care in the world that he had just scared off your intern and chief. "Happy?"
"No," Brendon said, pushing the computer away. He grabbed a pair of gloves, looking at the cut on your forehead. "This needs stitches."
"It's glued."
"It'll scar."
"Since when are you a plastic surgeon?" You challenge, looking up at him. Brendon just gives you that stare that you think is supposed to be an intimidation factor. But to you, it just irritated you. "I'm fine. I don't know why they called you."
"You're not fine," Brendon said, continuing his own examination of you. He gently picks up your arm, and you wince. "Your should is dislocated."
"I know," You whimper. He sets your arm back down gently. He's quiet for a moment, and you can see how tightly his jaw is clenched as he looks at the bruises on your arms from where the patient grabbed you. "Hey," You gently lift his chin with the hand on your non-injured arm. "I'm okay."
Brendon sniffs, looking away. And in that moment you realize. . . he's crying. Or as close to it as Park the Shark can get to. You've been with him for over five years and have never seen him shed a tear. Not even when you forced him to watch "The Notebook".
"Bren. . ." You say softly, guiding his face to look at you. He glances up at you, hazel eyes indeed wet with unshed tears. "I'm okay."
"You scared me," Brendon's voice was barely above a whisper. His hand gently caresses over the band-aid on your eyebrow. You close the feeling of his strong yet gentle hand on you. "Dana paged me. Didn't say what happened just that you had been assaulted, and I thought the worst."
"I'm sorry," You apologize. "I told her not to. It wasn't anything to worry-"
"You're my wife," Brendon cut you off. "It is my job to worry about you."
You smile at him. A lot of your co-workers wondered what drew you into a man like Brendon Park. He was cold, calculated, didn't like to work well with others. His job was barbaric, breaking and setting bones, using saws to cut limbs, jamming metal rods into bones. He was arrogant to the point he was sometimes flat out rude, he hated teaching medical students, worked his residents into the ground.
But he was soft. He cared about his patients, wanting the best possible outcome he could give them. He researched and refined his surgical craft to be able to perform the most up to date medical procedures. He defended his residents and nurses, often becoming the punching bag for disgruntled patients.
He also loved. . . hard. Brendon had fallen in love with you the moment he met you. He knew you like the back of his hand, knew what made you mad, what made you cry, what made you scared. He could tell if you had a bad day from the way you walk into the house. He would jump in front of traffic if it meant that you could walk safely across the road. Hearing that you had been hurt, a few floors down from where he was working, sent him into a spiral. A caveman like part of him coming out as he rushed towards the elevator going down to the Pitt.
"But I'm okay," You said, placing a kiss on the inside of his wrist. You gently grab his hand and place it on your chest, so he could feel your heart beat. "It's just a few scrapes. It's nothing I can't handle."
"Yeah," Brendon let out a deep sigh, "But I don't know if I can handle it."
"Oh c'mon," You smirk, "You're Park the Shark. You eat interns for breakfast. You can handle this." Brendon rolled his eyes.
The door to the trauma room slid open, Robby poking his head back in. "Everything okay?" He asked.
"Yeah," You answered, looking at Brendon who nodded in response.
"Okay," Robby said, walking into the room, Whitaker trailing behind him. "We gotta get that shoulder set."
You sucked in a breath nodding, "Okay."
"I'll do-"
"Ah," You held your hand up stoping Brendon from getting a pair of gloves. "This is a teaching hospital, and a dislocation is something an emergency room intern is supposed to be qualified to do." You look at Whitaker who looked like he'd rather melt into a puddle on the ground. "You got this."
"I really should let-"
"Whitaker," You snap. Whitaker jumped, quickly grabbing a pair of gloves and going to your side. Brendon stepped back to give Whitaker room to work, but the sheer size of him was still daunting.
"You hurt her," Brendon's voice was deadly low as he stared Whitaker down, "I'll dislocate your shoulder." You rolled your eyes as Whitaker turned an even paler color.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
(A/N: due to popular demand, here is part one to my dr park fan fic! just a disclaimer I am not a writer but I have been reading fan fic for over 10 years LOL so bare w me pls)
Brendon Park has everything any man would dream of having. The woman, the career, the money, the house. You name it, he probably has it. He just started his prestigous orthopedic residency program at the Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center. The application process was rigourous with multiple rounds of interviews, letters of recommendation, and required internships. Out of 20 other applicants, Brendon was chosen to fulfill the residency spot.
He felt unstoppable in a way. Coming from a family of money, he always got whatever he wanted but for the first time in his life he got something because of his hard work and dedication which made it mean more for him. And he had unwaivering support from his fiance, Michelle. They had met their freshmen year of college at Boston University; Brendon was pre-med and Michelle was business. It was an instant connection, or it was to Brendon. She was beautiful and everything he had wanted in a woman. They had intertwining friend groups, so it was only natural when they grew closer and eventually ended up dating.
Michelle was a dream. Tall, slender build like a model, silky long blonde hair, intelligence, and made Brendon feel important. Brendon proposed to her during his 3rd year of med school while visiting his family for Christmas. They spent the holiday at a cabin at a beautiful ski lodge resort. Brendon and Michelle were at dinner at the lodge's most prestigious restruant for Christmas Eve. With Brendon's immediate family surrounding them, he got down on one knee and asked Michelle to spend the rest of her life with him. She was estatic and immediately answered yes, placing a loving kiss to Brendon's lips before the family erupted cheering excitedly for the couple.
The ring was a family hierloom, passed down to Brendon from his great grandmother. It was beautiful, dainty, and classy. He thought it was perfect for Michelle. Until the conversation they had once everyone had gone to their bedrooms for the night.
"So, you're going to get me a different ring right?' Michelle asks, examining the ring on her finger while laying on Brendon's chest.
His fingertips slowly trailing up and down her arm come to an abrupt stop. "What?" He replied confused.
She lifts her head up from his broad chest to look at him, "Well, I mean the ring is nice but I always wanted one of those giant rocks to show off you know?" Gently smiling up at him, placing her hands on his chest.
Brendon could feel his heart sink into his ass. She didn't like the ring, the ring he had been so excited to give her. The one his mother specifically gave to him after Michelle had met his family for the first time when they were still in college.
He pressed his lips together, trying to give her a light smile. "Sure honey, we can go shopping for a different ring when we get home."
"Thank you baby" Michelle excitedly kisses him before placing her head back on his chest and eventually falling asleep.
That night Brendon hardly slept. Laying on his back with Michelle on his chest, one muscular arm behind his head and the other curled around her with his hand placed on her back.
He knew he loved Michelle, he had never felt this way about anyone he dated before. They had been through so much together; the challenges of undergrad, moving to Brendon's hometown of Pittsburgh after graduation, his older sister getting married, and supporting each other while Brendon got through med school.
He decided to brush off how he was feeling, maybe Michelle just wanted a ring that matched her style more and was more her. He understood, it wasn't a big deal. And he would do anything for the woman he loves.
Brendon is now halfway through his first year of residency and he's settling into his role at PTMC orthopedic department pretty well. He's impressed practically every surgeon working at the hospital and been asked to scrub in to numerous surgeries. He has somehow been able to manage his time between the hospital and his fiance.
"Park! Your engagement pictures are insaneeeee. How did you manage to pull a girl like Michelle??" Garcia pats Brendon on his shoulder, catching up to him in the hallway.
That earns a chuckle from the man, "I ask my self that every day. I'm a lucky man." He replies to his coworker.
The photos had been taken on a beach in North Carolina, per Michelle's request. They were taken by the finest photographic money could buy. Michelle looked gorgeous, with a flowing white dress that had a deep cut neckline, hair in loose waves with the perfect amount of makeup that made her look just a little sunkissed. Brendon wore a nice white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up along with matching white slacks. The way Michelle looked made his heart skip a beat, she looked ethereal almost and he couldn't believe she was going to be his wife.
The couple was able to make a vacation out of their trip to North Carolina. Spending days on the beach, completely wrapped up in each other. Heading back to their beach condo to freshen up before dinner and having a few drinks. It was picture perfect. Brendon was living the life he had dreamed of since he was a little boy still clinging to his mother's legs.
"Oh I know! It's gorgeous isn't it! Can you believe he really expected to wear his grandmother's sad excuse of a ring??" Michelle talks on the phone to her best friend while folding clothes. She's spent her day off at home lounging around and completing some household chores. She glances at her ring, an 11 carot emerald cut diamond placed on a beautiful silver ring staring back at her.
Brendon had quietly entered the house, finally home from a long 12 hour shift. His bones were aching and all he wanted to do was lay in bed with his future wife. He slowly climbed up the stairs to reach their shared bedroom. He came to a stop towards the top of the stairs when he heard her on the phone.
He was stunned by what he was hearing, surely she was kidding right? Michelle loved to joke around, she was probably just doing a bit for her friend.
"Honey, I'm home!" Brendon shouts from the stairs, deciding entering the bedroom unannounced while she was on the phone was not the best idea.
"Oh he's home! I have to go, but I'll see you later Callie!" Michelle excitedly hung up the phone before going to find Brendon.
"Baby hiiii I missed you so much!" Michelle wraps her arms around Brendon's neck as he enters the bedroom. He tucks his head into the crook of her shoulder, finally letting out a breath he's been holding in all day. With his arms around Michelle's middle, he pulls away giving her his best tired smile.
"I missed you more sweetheart" He says, bringing one of his hands up to brush the hair out of her face before setting on her cheek. She smiles, her hands placed on his shoulders giving him a peck on the cheek.
"You should go to bed you look tired, I'm going to meet Callie at the bar in an hour!" She says with enthusiam, moving her hands down from his shoulders to squeeze his beefy forearms.
The smile on Brendon's face immediately fell, "What? I mean I can come with you if you want." Michelle had already moved out of his embrace to start sorting through her closet for something to wear out.
"Oh there's no need! We're only going for a few drinks and have some girl talk. You need your sleep baby." She waves him off, now trying to decide on a dress or top with pants.
After watching her get ready and walking her out, Brendon heads downstairs to the kitchen to heat up some leftovers that he made earlier in the week. While waiting for the food in the microwave, he notices a package sat on the dining room table. Suddenly, he remembers the canvas he ordered for their living room of Michelle's favorite picture from their engagement photoshoot to suprise her.
He unboxes the canvas, holding it out so I can get a good look at it. The picture really is gorgeous, he has to admit. The couple is facing each other, Brendon's arms around Michelle's middle, foreheads touching and smiling at each other while Michelle holds out her hand to the camera showing off her giant rock she insisted Brendon buy for her. Something about it makes his stomach twists, similar to when Michelle said she didn't like his great grandmother's ring. But once again, he ignores the feeling and takes a deep breath.
After eating his dinner, Brendon spends the next hour putting the canvas up on the wall in their living so that when Michelle comes home from the bar she'll see it. When it's finally in the right place and leveled out perfectly, he steps back to admire his handiwork. He smiles to himself, she'll love it. Proud of himself, he heads up the stairs to finally go to bed.
He waits for a couple hours for Michelle to come home, but eventually it's 2 am and she still hasn't returned home. After sending a few texts with no answer, Brendon decides to just go to sleep as he has to be back at the hospital at 8 am for his next shift. He slept lightly, finding that he always has a hard time sleeping when she's not in bed next to him.
When his alarm goes off at 6 am he turns it off with a groan, immediately throwing his arm over the side of the bed where Michelle should be, but instead is met with nothing. Brendon immediately sits up in bed, looking around the bedroom for any sign of her but still nothing. He grabs his phone to check his messages.
4:04 am
Michelle: heyyy hadwioa too manyjkes drinksna spendinsg nginwet atke Calliessss
Michelle: lovenia youu handsoaiomeeee
Throwing his phone on the bed, he puts his face in his hands and sighs. He knows he shouldn't be upset with her about this. She works hard and she's allowed to go out and have fun with her friends. But, he can't help but feel a little disappointed, he had some rough cases yesterday and was looking forward to coming home and being with her only to end up sleeping alone the whole night.
He manages to drag himself out of bed, knowing he'll feel better after getting a lifting session in at the gym. And he was right, mostly. The disappointment still sitting in his chest, but buried deep down by the time he arrives at the hospital for his shift.
Brendon just finished reviewing charts and care notes from yesterday's cases when he looked up to see you. Looking around, looking as lost and confused as ever, like a baby deer he thought. He stands up from the nurse's station and makes his way over to you.
"Uh can I help you?" Sticking his hands in his scrub pockets while offering you a warm smile.
"Yes actually! I can't find the pedes unit, today's my first day as a nurse here and this hospital is really confusing." You answer him with the softest and kindest voice he has ever heard. You could't help but feel your cheeks heat up a little looking at this man. He was gorgeous with a tall muscular build and beautifully chiseled face. His biceps looking like they were about to burst through the sleeve of his scrub top and the top hugged his broad chest perfectly, truly leaving little to the imagination.
After giving you a whole tour of the hospital before dropping you off the pedes unit you were originally searching for, you learned that his name is Dr. Park, orthopedic surgeon. And Brendon learned your name, Y/N. He thought you were absolutely beautiful, he had thought other women besides Michelle were pretty before but this was different. You were different.
But once again, he buried those feelings deep within his chest going on with his shift.
It had been a couple months since Brendon met you and he had only seen you a handful of times around the hospital, exchanging polite smiles and plesantries each time.
The most recent time he saw you, you were the assigned nurse to a little boy in pedes that Brendon was called for consult for. The boy was no more than 6 years old and needed surgery to place pins in his broken arm so it heals correctly. While he was going over the case with the boy's other doctor, you were in the room comforting the boy while trying to give him an IV. It was like watching you in your natural habitat. You and the boy both laughing, poking at his stomach to make him giggle. He watched you effortlessly insert the IV while simulataneously making sure the little boy stayed calm and wasn't scared.
You said goodbye to the boy, telling him how brave he was and handing him a spider-man sticker before making your way out of the room.
"Alright Dr Park! He's all yours!" placing a friendly hand on Brendon's bicep while walking past him and out of the room. He could feel his face going red, immediately trying to play it off.
After the consult and explaining the procedure to the little boy and his parents, Brendon ran right for the bathroom. Standing in front of the sink, hands resting on the edge of the counter. "Get yourself together park." He told himself, splashing water on his face trying to snap out of whatever trance you put him in.
He was engaged to Michelle and the wedding was inching closer and closer, he loved Michelle even though things had been tense between them recently. Since the bar incident when she didn't come home, Michelle had grown more and more distant every day. Brendon honestly cannot remember the last time they slept next to each other for more than a night in a row. He can't even remember the last time they ate a meal together.
Brendon was slowly becoming a shell of himself. Everything felt automatic, like he was on autopilot. He keeps telling himself it's just the stress of the wedding coming up and things will get better after they return from their honeymoon.
Even Garcia noticed the difference in his mood. "Park you coming out with us tonight?" She asked him while they were cleaning up after a surgery, removing their gowns and gloves.
"No I can't tonight." He doesn't even look at her when he answers, pretending to really focus on scrubbing his hands clean.
Garcia scoffs, "Oh come on, Park. You haven't come out with us in months. What's going on with you?" She comes up to next to him at the sink, hands on her hips.
Park rolls his eyes, "You know I've been busy with Michelle, the wedding is coming up soon." He lied. He doesn't know how to tell Garcia what's wrong even though nothing really distinctly happened to explain his mood.
Garcia sighs in defeat, "Alright well, you know where to find us" She pats his shoulder before walking off.
It's about a month to date until the wedding and Brendon's not doing any better, in fact he may be doing worse somehow. Especially now.
Brendon had been hit with some kind of illness, possbily the flu he thinks. The pressure under his eyes is driving him crazy, he can't even breathe out of his nose, and his body aches so bad that even just typing on the computer hurts.
"Well don't you look lovely." Garcia says sarcastically, walking up to the nurse's station where Brendon is.
Brendon doesn't even look up from his screen, "thanks" He replies with agitation in his voice.
"No seriously, you should go home. You can't operate on anyone in this condition." Garcia's tone changed from sarcastic to serious in less than a second. "I'm your senior resident I'm telling you to go home, I'll talk to the attendings."
Brendon sighs as he finally agrees, his headache was getting so bad that Garcia's words were starting to blend together and not make sense. So, he grabbed his stuff and headed out.
He felt a wave of relief wash over his body when he finally got through the front door. He stood at the door for a second, eyes closed just breathing focusing on the silence of the house. He could not wait to take some cold medicine and get into bed.
As he made his way to the stairs, that's when he heard it. The giggling, the moaning, the talking. That's weird, he didn't even expect Michelle to be home. The voices kept getting louder as he climbed the stairs and walked towards the bedroom. He slowly walked towards the door to the room, as he stepped closer the pit in his stomach kept getting bigger.
He saw it when he slightly nudged the door open, Michelle wrapped up with some guy in their bed. He didn't need to get closer to know they were naked and he wasn't stupid, he knew what they were doing. Brendon felt the life he had built be flushed down the toilet.
He was frozen at the door, trying to say something but no words would come out.
Finally, the words came out "Michelle"
"Oh my god, oh my god! Brendon what are doing here!" Michelle gasps, immediately grabbing the sheets to cover herself. The man next to her scrambling to get up and grab his clothes, not about to get in the middle of the couple.
"sick. have the flu, Garcia sent me home" Brendon rubbed his face with his hands before slamming his phone on his dresser.
Michelle was silent watching Brendon, sitting up in bed with the sheets draped around her nervously biting her lips. He was facing away from her, standing in front of his dresser staring at the picture collage of them hung up above the dresser. He couldn't cry, couldn't bring himself to form the tears.
"Are you kidding me?" Brendon whispered, he tried talking louder but his voice wouldn't let him.
"I-I look Brendon, I didn't think you'd be home I'm sorry" Michelle stutters out, fingers playing with the sheets.
"You're sorry because I came home early, not because I caught you in our bed with another man?" He scoffed, shaking his head still refusing to turn around and look at her. Uncomfortable silence fell over the room.
When he did finally work up the courage to turn around, he didn't look at her. He slowly walked over to the bottom of the bed, sitting on the edge. Head in his hands, he asked "How long? How long were you doing this?"
Michelle brought her knees up to chest, "A year. . . " She mumbled.
Brendon bitterly laughed to himself. "Oh my god." he said in disbelief. He turned his head to the side slightly, so he had the tiniest glimpse of Michelle in his vision. He clears his throat, "You need to leave."
Michelle snaps her head up to look at him, "What?"
"You heard me, go. You can't be here we're done." He said, returning his head to rest in his hands.
"What! Brendon you can't kick me out! The wedding is in less than a month!" Michelle rushes out of bed with the sheets still wrapped around her, moving to stand in front of Brendon. She brings her hands out to gently tilt his chin up so he'll look at her.
He pushes her hands away, refusing to meet her gaze. "Not anymore. You made your decision. Now pack some stuff and get out." Brendon pushes himself off the bed, walking past Michelle.
He leaves the house and gets into his car, deciding to drive to his parents house without even thinking. He felt like he had been driving for hours when he finally arrived at his parents house even though the drive was only about 15 minutes.
His mother answered the front door, "Brendon honey, what are doing here?" she offered him a warm, welcoming smile. He couldn't even get any words out before bursting out sobbing, wrapping himself around his mother.
"Oh sweetie, what happened what's going on?? Where's Michelle?" She asked in a hushed tone, patting his back with one hand and cradling his head with the other.
She managed to get her son inside the house, the nostalgia and homeyness wrapping brendon in a warm hug. Sitting on the couch in the family living room, his mother hands him a warm mug of tea before taking a seat next to him. She smooths out her pants, "So, are you going to tell me what's going on?" She asks gently.
Brendon sighs, taking a sip of his tea and closing his eyes as he lets the tea soothe his throat. He contemplates for a second before deciding what to say.
"It's over. She cheated." He said plainly, looking down at the mug in his hands.
His mother gasped in suprise, "Oh honey! She did what!" She places a hand on his knee in comfort.
Brendon shakes his head, "Yeah. Caught her this morning. I just I didn't know what to do so I came here." He replied still staring at his hands, he couldn't bare to meet his mother's eyes. He just felt so embarrassed, he felt like a failure.
His mother wrapped her arm around his shoulders, pulling him into her side, "Bren, I'm so sorry. She never deserved you, you know."
Brendon was silent as he listened to his mother talk about how no one in the family really liked her and always got a bad feeling about her. He didn't know what to say.
About an hour had passed since he arrived at his family home. His tea had gone cold after he placed it on the coffee table. His mother stood up from the couch, standing in front of him and taking his face into her hands. For the first time since he came into the house, he looked his mother in the eyes.
"Sweetie, you can stay here for as long as you need. Your dad and I are here for you." She places a kiss on his forehead before offering a warm smile. "I have a doctors appointment to go to, why don't you go lay down and get some rest. I'll bring you some soup when I get home."
Brendon sighs, "okay mom. thank you" he manages to whisper out.
After his mom leaves, he makes his way upstairs to the guest room. Discarding his clothes leaving just his boxers on before climbing onto the bed and climbing under the comforter. Even with his head pounding and body aching, he still couldn't manage to fall asleep. He checked his phone, he had multiple missed messages and calls from Michelle and some of her friends. He sighed before turning off his phone completely.
He laid back in the bed, staring at the ceiling. Rewinding the past 10 years in his head, trying to figure out where he went wrong in his relationship with Michelle. All he can come up with is all the times Michelle disappointed him. The birthdays she missed, dinners with family she missed, she even missed his med school graduation. He remembers all the time his gut tried to warn him, but just buried those feelings instead. It was never him that was the issue, it was her.
It's two weeks later when Brendon finally returns to PTMC for work, taking some time off to figure his stuff out. And he looks awful. The light had been drained out of his eyes and he looks like he hasn't slept in days. He looks miserable, in simple terms.
As he makes his way through the orthopedic department, resting bitch face on, people make way for him like fishes in the ocean make way for a shark.
After finishing a tricky surgery, he's washing up when Garcia comes up next to him. "Hey nice job on that case, that was a difficult procedure. It's nice to have you back Park." She offers a smile, best Garcia can at least. He doesn't answer, barely even looks at her, giving her a curt nod in response.
Garcia sighs, "Listen, I'm sorry about everything okay? You know, if you ever need to talk I'm here." She looks at him with concern.
Brendon scoffs before standing up straight, drying his hands with a paper towel. "I'm fine." He says in a deep tone before walking away.
Garcia shakes her head as he walks out, rubbing her temples with her hands. She's practically seen him deteroriate the last year or so. They used to go out after shifts with the team, tell stories and jokes. She basically saw him as her little brother and now she didn't know how to help him.
It's about two months since the seperation. Brendon has turned into a cold, mean shell of who he used to be. You'd heard whispers around the hospital about him, but you refused to believe the orthopedic surgeon with the beautiful smile would chew out a med student for misreading an x-ray scan.
Today was probably the best day of the year, at least for you. It's your birthday! You're walking around the hospital to different departments, handing out cupcakes to staff while wearing a birthday girl pin gifted to you from the charge nurse in pedes.
When you make your way into orthopedics, you immediately scan the department for Dr. Park. You spot him sitting at the nurse's station, glaring at the computer with a scowl on his face. You make your way to him, stopping by a few others to hand them cupcakes.
"Hey Dr. Park!" you greet him cheerfully.
He glances at you from the computer screen before immediately brining his attention back to the screen, "Hi." he replies, not even looking at you, typing away at his keyboard.
Your smile falters a bit, but you decide to keep talking. "Today is my birthdayyyy and I'm going around handing cupcakes out to staff! So here's yours!" You gently place a cupcake next to his keyboard.
He looks at the cupcake and then at you, an almost amused expression on his face. "Well, I'll see you around!" You say before picking up your tray of cupcakes and walking off, hoping to find Garcia next.
He watches you walk away before looking back down to the cupcake you left him. It's just a regular vanilla cupcake with white frosting and rainbow sprinkles. He feels the slightest tinge of a smile on his face. The most he's probably smiled in at least 6 months.
SecretHusband!Park who you married a couple of years ago after a whirlwind romance. No one in the Pitt even knows you two dated let alone got engaged, and then married. Brendon is very secretive about his private life as are you.
SecretHusband!Park who is quietly protective of you. If he’s down in the ER for a consult he quietly watches you. Making sure no one’s making you uncomfortable. He won’t make a big scene but if someone did make you uncomfortable whether it’s a colleague or patient he will quietly stand by you whilst giving them his signature Shark glare, until they feel uncomfortable and leave you alone.
SecretHusband!Park who doesn’t listen to any of the gossip from your colleagues or his, if anyone notices how he stands near you. How he sort of just hovers. And he certainly doesn’t listen when they say he seems oddly calm and comfortable around you.
SecretHusband!Park who may “accidentally” brush his hand against yours or brush past you.
SecretHusband!Park who will get annoyed if someone questions you at something you clearly know what you’re doing “don’t question her again. She knows what she’s doing.” He’d bark. A hint of a smile on his lips when the person stutters apologising to you. But then he’s quickly back to his signature glare.
SeecretHusband!Park who pulls you into a storage closest for stolen kisses of a chance to remind you how much he loves you.
SecretHusband!Park who pins you against the wall and mutters “missed you” against your lips.
SecretHusband!Park who will make love to you when he finally gets you home.
SecretHusband!Park who cooks for you. And dotes on your every need.
SecretHusband!Park who can’t help but leave hickeys on your neck. When your colleagues notices if he’s around he will just quietly chuckle to himself, until you glare at him when no one’s noticing.
SecretHusband!Park who is surprisingly clingy and will have you sit on his lap as he massages your shoulders, kisses your neck and runs his fingers through your hair.
SecretHusband!Park who loves to fuck you in the shower before and after work.
SecretHusband!Park who hates when colleagues or patients flirt with you. He wants to shout out but instead he just glares at them.
SecretHusband!Park who isn’t surprised when you tell him your colleagues have a running bet on what is happening with the both of you, because they’ve noticed him specifically lurking by you more and more every day.
SecretHusband!Park who nearly slips up during a mass casualty and accidentally starts to say babe instead of your name, but quickly recovers and says your name. A couple of nurses notice and the rumour mill suddenly ramps up after that day.
hi you!! this is really weird but i got the idea from a movie i watched. so Brendon and reader have been married for sometime, they both work in the hospital and it’s been a rough few months so they’ve been distant…in bed you know, like they don’t do that at all and reader feels guilty and thinks that if they don’t sleep together again he’ll cheat on her if he doesn’t already (of course he’s not)
Your day goes by in a haze. Work was the same as always but you’re distracted.
You’ve been distracted a lot recently.
The last few months have felt heavy. Not only has work been overwhelming but your husband, Brendon, well, that’s been the heaviest part.
Between both of your jobs becoming busier, you both haven’t had much time together.
You both used to have ample time in a week to meet up for lunch, go explore downtown, go out to dinners, have date nights, and everything in between. But lately these things have become dry, especially in the bedroom.
During your five years of marriage, this has never been a problem. Not to this extent.
You didn’t think much of it until it had stopped completely. Some days you were too tired or other days Brendon was tired too or busy working and not home as much.
The few times you had been eager to be under him, it never made it past a heavy makeout and some groping.
You acknowledged it had been a combination of you both not being up to it but then your mind began to wander.
Recently you had been trying to get things back to how they were only to have your advances turned down. Brendon either acted oblivious, was asleep before anything happened or ended up working late.
You thought it had been a mutual disinterest at the time but now?
You’re not so sure.
Was it you?
Maybe he was bored of you?
He did spend a lot of time at the hospital these last few months. And again you guys hadn't had sex in maybe a month or two?
No, no Brendon wouldn’t do that.
Right?
Maybe you could really initiate it. Buy new lingerie, get your nails and hair done.
That could work.
Hopefully it did.
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
The next day is your day off and you decide to put your plan into action.
You get your hair refreshed and styled first. Then you go to the nail salon and pick out his favorite color.
Perfect.
Your last stop was a lavish lingerie store in downtown Pittsburgh. The selection was a bit overwhelming but then you find a winning piece.
It accentuated your breasts and made your ass look fantastic. A bonus was that it matched the color of your nails.
He wouldn’t be able to resist.
Once you’re home you fix your hair a bit and apply a light makeup before changing into the lacy material.
—-
About thirty minutes later you hear the front door unlock from your spot on the bed. You adjust your hair and sit on the edge of the bed, leaning back on your hands.
Heavy footsteps make their way down the hall towards the bedroom.
Brendon steps through the doorway, scrubs in disarray and a slight frown on his face.
“Hey baby” you say gently.
He briefly looks up as he drops his bag by the dresser.
“Hey.”
You’re taken back a bit.
Hey?
Just hey?
You knew things had been a bit rough these last few months but this is the most distant he's ever seemed.
Like he just acknowledged a roommate and not his wife.
You don’t let the dry greeting deter you.
You stand up and walk up to him.
Running your hand up his bicep and the other up on his shoulder.
“Everything okay Bren?”
He huffs a bit sarcastically “Is it ever?”
Ouch.
You bring your hand from his bicep to his face.
“Maybe I could help you relax, hmm?”
You see a ghost of a grin but as soon as it’s there, it’s gone.
“That’s nice but not tonight.”
He gently moves your hands off of him and walks around you to the walk-in closet.
You stand in the same spot for a moment. Your heart drops into your stomach and a chill runs down your spine.
What. Just. Happened.
Is this it?
Does he not find you attractive anymore?
Is he….
Is he gonna leave you?
You hold back the tears and make your way to the ensuite bathroom and lock the door.
Gripping the counter and leaning against it, you look into the mirror.
Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.
One tear falls, and then another.
Then another until you can’t stop them from falling.
You hold both hands over your mouth to quiet the sobs that rack your body.
You back up until you meet the wall and slide down.
Your chest heaves from the sobs and agonizing pain in your heart.
He’s gonna leave me.
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
Brendon cracks his neck as he walks back out from the closet, scrubs discarded and now changed into fresh pajamas.
He sees your side of the bed empty but then sees the bathroom door closed and hears the shower running.
He lets out a sigh and gets into bed as he waits for you. All he wants is to get some rest and have you cuddled up against him.
Brendon knew things had been a bit strained lately and he felt a bit guilty for not being as present in your relationship like usual but things were starting to get better at work and he hoped you guys could get back to normal now.
Today has been rough like the last few months but things would change come his next shift.
He just needed to recuperate from today and then he’d have a good talk with you and apologize. Maybe take you out for dinner and a movie.
He smiles at the thought.
——
It’s been over an hour before Brendon still sees you’re not in bed.
He goes up to the bathroom door and presses his ear against it.
The shower is still on.
Weird.
He can’t hear anything else.
“Sweetheart,” he knocks lightly “you good in there?”
No response.
“Baby?” He grabs the door handle to open it but he finds it locked.
Panic starts to seep into his veins.
“Baby please open the door.”
He’s still met with silence.
Brendon’s heart starts to race as he reaches a hand up on the top of the door frame and grabs the spare key sitting there for emergencies.
Once he has the door open he looks around and then towards the shower.
His blood runs cold.
“Sweetheart!”
He runs to the shower where your naked form is sitting, slumped inside against the wall.
He practically rips the glass door off its hinges as he gets into the shower still fully clothed.
On his knees he grabs you by the shoulders and turns your face towards his.
He’s met with puffy, red rimmed eyes staring back at him.
“Hey, hey what’s wrong baby? Are you hurt? Did you fall?”
His fingers press gently but quickly around your head looking for any blood, bumps or injuries.
You slowly shake your head.
“M’fine” you mumble.
He furrows his eyebrows at your quiet words.
“You’re gonna have to do a lot better than that to convince me. C’mon let’s get you out of here. It’s freezing.”
He scoops up your cold body and sits you on the counter by the sink.
He grabs your favorite fluffy towel and wraps it around you, rubbing his hands up and down your arms to help warm you up.
His heart breaks at your sad demeanor.
“Baby,” he lifts your chin up to look at him “What happened? What’s wrong?”
Tears build in your eyes and your chin trembles.
“Please don’t leave me.”
Then the tears fall as you lean your head into his shoulder.
Sobs rack your body and Brendon holds you, tears building in his eyes.
“Leave you?” He asks confused
“Why on earth would I do that?”
“Y-You don’t want m-me anymore.” You manage to say between the tears.
“What?” he leans you back and gently holds your face in his hands.
“Why wouldn’t I want my wife?”
“You’ve b-been distant. I th-thought maybe we could just have s-some fun tonight but then you didn’t want me a-and I’m scared you don’t want m-me at all. That you want someone else..”
The words completely shattered Brendon’s heart.
Had he really withdrawn from you that much that you felt he didn’t love you anymore?
That you thought he’d leave you?
For someone else?
Fuck.
He had to fix this, quick.
“Sweetheart, look at me.”
Your tired eyes meet his.
“First, hear me and hear me clearly. I’m never leaving you. I fucking love you. So damn much.”
He takes a deep breath.
“Second, I’ve not been honest these last few months. Gloria has been making big cuts. Letting go lots of staff, including surgeons and attendings. I heard my name was up on the list of potential ones to go. It got to me and I’ve been hauling ass every fucking day for my job. I didn’t want to admit that I was scared. I’m supposed to support you and give you everything. Give you the world…I couldn’t let you down.”
A tear falls down his cheek and without thinking you reach up and wipe it away.
“Lastly, I’m so fucking sorry. I’m sorry I let all of that affect our marriage and make you think I didn’t love you. That I’d leave you. I swore in my vows I’d love you forever and I meant that. Every word.”
You sniffle and take a shaky breath.
“Then why’d you turn me down tonight?”
“I was so upset earlier over everything. I found out I’m for sure not getting let go but I was angry. Angry my name was even brought up for it to begin with. I didn’t want to take that out on you in any form, especially sex. But I think I already did with the lack of it over these last few months. Which again I’m sorry. I just was so overwhelmed with everything and didn’t want to force things and fake it with you. I never want that for us.”
He closes his eyes, willing himself not to cry in front of you.
Then he feels you wrap yourself around him.
“Brendon. I love you. You could never let me down. Even if you did lose your job, I wouldn’t think less of you, be disappointed in you or love you any less. I know that stuff can be scary but next time please just talk to me. This is a marriage. I’m here for you as much as you’re here for me. I can’t support you and be there for you if you don’t let me in. If you’re not in the mood for a conversation or sex or anything, just tell me. I’ll always understand. But I really thought you were gonna leave.”
He shakes his head rapidly.
“God no, baby. Never happening.”
“Good. Because I don’t think I’d survive it.”
He grabs your face and kisses you slowly.
“Also I know I didn’t say it earlier but you did look hot as hell. I’m sorry I ruined that for you.”
You chuckle a bit.
“You can make it up to me later Bren. Right now I just want to get in bed and cuddle my husband.”
