Hello! I do not know if you are comfortable with this, but… I have a request for a Brendon Park x reader story where they work together, and he notices the reader struggles with their relationship with food. He then confronts them about it, and you can decide what happens after. It’s kinda self-indulgent, but I rarely see this kind of awareness in the Pitt fanfics, yk? I understand if you’re not up to it, I totally get it, but I like your work!✨✨✨
”to be loved, is to be beautiful.”
puppies notes: oh. my. god. why yes i can write this. ive struggled with eating in the past, and i feel like food relationships are under-valued in all fandoms and aspects, not just the pitt!! anon you are great, tysm for this request!!! // not proofread, just pure puppy thoughts. wife!reader, use of Y/N, femininity implied.? This is the first kind of imagine this has written, please be patient!!
tw!!!: mentions of overeating, starving, weight gain and loss, heavy food guilt and trauma, struggling!user & caringish!park
Working in shark infested waters wasn’t exactly ideal.
Although you had worked yourself up to the second year of your residency, and your work fought with that of Garcia and Walsh’s, it didn’t mean you got a pass. No, that was absolutely not how Dr. Park ran his OR. His OR was the third floor up from the ED, the noticeably least clicked button on the elevator, and maybe the last place you want to find yourself - doctor or not. Better known as “Sharks Waters”, this is where bones were broken and reconstructed in a matter of hours, or even deep muscle lacerations got sewn up and sent home. It took grit to work in this hell-hole, or else the Great White would chew you up and spit you out.
You’ve been working at PTMC for a while, doing your MS3 and MS4 years down in the ED, before Abbot wrote you a recommendation for upstairs. Majority of people loved the ER, wanting to stay with the gore and troubles, but Park was a demanding man. As soon as he had been called down and saw you present, Abbot knew you were in the jaws of the Shark.
“The only competent person down here, Sharkbait, he’s obviously gonna be begging-“ is what Abbot told you, effectively ending your days in the ER…but then again, that was almost 3 years ago, and you haven’t been better since. Even though you adored the Pitt with every fiber of your being, living for triage and all the blood and guts you got to stabilize, it also had its downsides. Being naturally plump, it made it hard to squeeze past tight corners, made it seem hypocritical when you have to diagnose a patient with weight-related problems, among other things. Older patients made comments, younger teens saying you “look like you give the best hugs”, which you took on as a harmful jab. Ever since coming to the OR, you decided something had to change. It was long days on your feet, tiny and careful movements, and breaking bones took muscle - not fat.
Gyms weren’t your thing, keto was too bland, and sugar was in everything so cutting it was practically impossible. Since most of your day was taken up with trips downstairs, or reconstructing bone, you just ended up ignoring cravings. It started small, bringing lunch less and less with time, then taking more desperate measures. Nobody noticed the extra space, people just filled the fridge with their own things. Phase two was gradually taking more surgeries over lunch. Park was a big fan of his lunch hour, and Garcia was typically down in the ED around that time, leaving you and Walsh to fill the gap. Your plan seemed foolproof, perfect even. Being roughly 75% of the way there, nobody had noticed or gotten suspicious, so it was great!
Progress was slow, but pounds eventually started coming off. Instead of eating while bored and feeling like shit after, it was just ignoring the scents and meals. If Gloria sent donuts or a pizza up to the OR, someone always had to split with you. Soon enough, that was the only time they witnessed you eat. 3 months, you’ve been holding strong, up until now. In the middle of scrubbing in, Dana happened to come out of nowhere. Garcia was pulling gloves over your hands, and then her voice cut through.
“Y/N, baby, Park’s gonna be coming up in a second. He wants you in his office, Santos is gonna come in and help Garcia.”
Though it confused you, you always listened to Dana. Soon enough, you had traded with the ED intern, and ended up sat across from your boss. Sharp, unquestioning brown eyes seemed strangely soft today. Coworkers had always joked that you made him softer, that your “competence” eased him up, but you had never really saw it until now.
“This job is hard, yeah?”
Hearing his voice break through, your eyes darted to meet his own. Almost against your will, a nod affirmed his words. Only once you spoke did he consider continuing.
“Your body needs power for this work..Surgeries are notoriously hard to do with shaky hands, Y/N. Food has been studied to make you more awake and aware.”
As soon as those words left his mouth, your heart was deep in your stomach. Guilt flooded your veins at the realization that you had been secretly letting him down. Though Brendon wasn’t the most perfect person, his affirmation meant everything to you. He saw the want, the potential in you, and had been watching it dim as insecurity took the reins. Park saw your eyes drop, the smallest wobble of your lower lip. He wasn’t someone for affection or tears, but he would be damned if it didn’t affect him somehow. Leaning forwards, eyes locked on yours, you got some honesty from Park.
“..Besides the fact that you are one of the only good things I’ve gotten from Abbot, there are also a few things we can agree on. One of which, is that you are also a goddess of a woman. Hospitals aren’t built to handle body types that aren’t the typical “80 pound Bimbo”, but it absolutely should be.”
The tiniest, dry laugh came from you. He leaned back, the idea of a smile toying with tight lips.
“I am absolutely serious. Patients may have been bitches down there, but up here, people love you. We want to see you succeed, Sharkbait, not pass out from a lack of carbs.”
Brendon stood up, adjusting his scrub-top. He wasn’t big, not at all, but he was definitely built. You had seen him wiggle around corners, build muscle and stare at the sheer side of his own hands on the charting iPads. He held the doorknob, looking back at you.
“..I know I’m mean, but that doesn’t mean I don’t give two fucks. Insecurity can be a bitch, it just means to be a bitch back. You are amazing at your job, theres no doubt behind that, you just gotta be amazing at understanding your body.”
With that, he opened the door, gesturing you out. Maybe he was a little blunt about it, but he definitely got a point across. His eyes scanned over your form while you went to finish up a chart.
Beautiful as ever, loved by many, and absolutely perfect by his standards. Maybe thats all Park needed.
i do not condone any methods of weight loss mentioned! all bodies are beautiful, and beautiful humans deserve nothing less than love<3 your body is amazing, and nobody needs to change it!
