here is the master of all masterlists. my collection of separate, smaller masterlist’s all of my works. feel free to browse the selection or whatever lmao
strikethrough means the masterlist is permanently closed and no longer accepting requests
please let me know at any time if any links are dead or leading elsewhere :)
Pixel post dividers for everyone! It's not much, but feel free to use them if you'd like.
I don't know the ideal size for these, so let me know if they're too tall. I can make them a bit shorter next time.
If you EVER think Anthony Head is anything less than an angel then you’d best remember that I have always been a huge fan of his and we’ve always had a little contact over the years and he heard I’d come out as Trans and was having a hard time and that I was kind of sad that the photos I had from conventions with him were of me with long hair and no binder and they were all signed to “Sarah” and so he invited me to spend the day with him at his farm and he picked me up from the station and we just hung out and had lunch and he insisted on paying and took loads of photos and had them printed on photo paper the same day so he could sign them to Jay, along with other photos of him as Giles and Uther and he literally spent five hours chatting with me and got all of the pronoun stuff right every time and then he dropped me off at the station, gave me a final massive hug, waved me through the ticket barrier and insisted I message him when I got home so he knew I got back safe. (More HERE)
John Shen who has an ovulation kink. Shen who tracks your periods and you think it’s bc he’s being sweet but it’s bc he wants to know when you’re ovulating. Shen who’s pavlov-ed you by always using one scent of cologne when you’re ovulating/in the mood. Just Shen in general bc i need that man so so badly….
JOHN SHEN WHO PAVLOVS YOU OMFG
now i dont think that he would do so intentionally. i think that whenever you're ovulating (because, YES, like you said he would totally be linked to your period app or maybe have your cycle marked down in the calendar hanging on your fridge), he just so happens to get in the mood because, yeah, our man might have a breeding kink. he just wants so badly to give you a chubby baby with his nose and your smile... lol jk it's actually that the thought of fucking his load into your unprotected cunt makes him want to jerk off like a desperate, horny teen.
needless to say, when it's that time of the month (/pos), john is pulling out all the stops. he wears your favorite clothes of his (hello compression shirt and gray sweats), combs his hair just right, and puts on cologne.
the funny thing is that john doesn't even realize what he's doing until he decides to put some on for work and you subsequently follow him all night. he's finally going to ask if something's wrong when you pull him underneath the stairwell and start talking about how much he's tempting you. the question on his tongue dies out the second you take a long, long whiff of the crook of his neck, right around where he dabbed on his cologne.
"smell so good, babe," you mutter. "you can't keep teasing me like this, makin' me wet at work..."
and all of a sudden, john learns that his horniness may have had unintended consequences.
“⠀EVEN THICK-SKULLED SHARKS are weak to the nicu babies’ charm. the nurse? ..let’s discuss that on non-ptmc grounds.⠀”
STARRING. brendon park x gn! nicu nurse! reader (ft. trinity santos and dennis whittaker)
CONTENTS. park being an observant and patient man while reader is initially avoidant, nicu baby being a cutie patootie, many references to gemini szn.. oopsy? also, park and reader use baby-friendly terms even though said baby is probably not even listening (also also, trinity being marites and calls reader gorgeous as a nickname)
LOVE LETTER. i saw a post that park’s fave department would be peds (nicu, to be specific) and that sent me down this spiral that is this fic..
“hey, little one. still can't sleep?”
many night shifts ago, you had been concerned to hear that voice. it didn't belong to any of your peds colleagues. the tone had been soft but cautious, like someone stil learning to adjust themself so the babies wouldn't be afraid of them.
and visitor hours had ended an hour ago, reluctant goodbyes already passed between guardian and newborn. so regardless of your compassion, there shouldn't have been any loitering non-workers.
now, as you clock into the room for your shift, you linger by the door and watch. the uptick of your lips betray your endearment, inflicted by the sight of dr. brendon park sitting next to one of the incubators to host a chat with the darling who's still awake past her bedtime.
he didn't care if it was one sided; his commentary smoothly looped between the monitors' beats.
“..just might treat myself with steak and grape juice for dinner. what do you think?”
you sidle up to park and throw in your two cents. “sounds well deserved after the day you've reported to our little sweetheart.”
park doesn't startle. throughout his nightly visits to the nicu, you've become the most familiar face. consequently, he's collected these tidbits that, when glued together, form his picture of you. the ortho surgeon would even privately swear he'd be more concerned if you don't clock in around this time.
his smile—small, its edges worn from a schedule of surgeries that had waned more than just his energy, yet still present—pops up. he shifts his focus, reminds you, “my offer is still on the table. i cook a delectable medium rare with a side of roast potatoes.”
and you laugh, shake your head. “don't worry, i haven't forgotten. it's just been really hectic in here. all hands on deck, you know?”
yeah, he does. park knows from the exhaustion etched in the fine lines of your face, the corner your id badge poking out of your scrub pocket, the singular hair tie left on your wrist. (you usually wore at least seven of them in case a colleague needed an extra.)
park doesn't point those out. maybe some other time, when he successfully aligns a shift with yours and convinces you to let him drive you home, he'll wonder aloud where your love for working the night shift stems from.
for now, he stands to grab another the rolling stool and sits, leaving you no choice but to occupy the comfier seat. silence perches itself between the two of you; accompanied by the kind of wonder that comes from watching over the newborn cooing and shifting around her small bed.
“june's rarely been one to catch some sleep early.” you comment, fondness mellowing out your tone.
and park nips, “hm, it sounds like her favorite nurse has an influence on her.”
when you nudge him (tap for him, considering his physique), he rolls his seat back by a couple centimeters. theatrics aren't typically in park's functions, but if it elicits the giggle that falls from your lips, he might as well put on a whole show for you.
“come back here, tumbleweed. can't have you rolling into anyone else's attention.”
so he does. but as park rolls back into place, his mind remains snagged on what you said. not the nickname—you've called him plenty ‘worse’ without facing his brutal snark—but the implication. the essence of jealousy that might have been poured in the waters.
for someone who preferred a clean cut, park doesn't have a clear view of where you stand. he knows he's left the platonic state; he's come to terms with that.
meanwhile, you, in spite of your comebacks and the fleeting physical brushes, haven't said it. haven't written the words on the lines; more often than not, between them.
and park, persistent yet patient, doesn't try to lure the confession out of you. instead, he adjusts and waits; quite the feat for someone his size (emotionally, of course).
the minute it's clear mr. dozy has come to visit june, brendon knows his visiting hour is up. his storytelling, featuring your thoughts occasionally spoken aloud, had done its trick again. seems like he has to snag more tea tales from the nurses during his next shift.
he sets his hand atop of yours and quietly announces, “i'm gonna go. if i'm going to treat myself, i need to do a stopover for the grape juice.”
you nod, acknowledge his goodbye with a invisible touch of wishful thinking. park rises to his feet and presses his palm against the cover of the incubator, those ocean eyes taking in the newborn's steady heaves of her chest as she gradually lowers into sleep's cradle.
right as he sets one foot out the door, you call out to him. he turns, half worried something happened to you or one of the patients during that minute. but when he looks at you, all he can see is your hands tucked behind your back, presumably fidgeting; a habit of yours when you got nervous over something. something like..
“this saturday evening. i'd like to see if your cooking's as good as your bone mending.”
for a moment there, park thinks he misheard you. although you aren't cruel, not intentionally at least, he still waits for you to reel the bait back in.
when you don't, the surgeon breathes out something between a laugh and a sigh. he gives your answer a moment to marinate before nodding, tacking on for confirmation, “i don't care where you want me to pick you up. text me the location, okay?”
true to his word, park picks you up in front of dennis and trinity's apartment. having been a bundle of nerves for this date (oh god, you're going on a date with the man who clearly hasn't only been visitng the nicu to check on the patients), you'd run to the two people who'd been your closest confidants throughout your ptmc arc.
trinity had done stellar work on prepping you, supporting your nervous self throughout the steps. dennis had done the same.. but more on morale, because it hadn't been until ten minutes before park arrived that everything had sunken in for him.
“so.. wait.. you're going on an actual, dining at his home date with park the shark?”
“no, he's going to give gorgeous a house tour.” trinity scoffed. “of course it's a real date, huckleberry. the guy's already living a med student's dream, makes sense he's looking for someone to spend those debt-free rewards on.”
park doesn't honk for your attention; partially for consideration for others, mostly because he knows you startle at abrupt loud noises. and with that in mind, he pings your phone with a heads up that he's waiting outside.
upon exiting the building, the first thing you notice is park's hands; the firm but still careful grasp he clasps around the bouquet of lavenders and sunflower set in the middle of the blooms. he steps forward to greet you with the bouquet, the corner of his lips ticked in an endearingly awkward smile.
“so you know, i hadn't envisioned the sunflower. but when the florist noticed i was only getting you lavenders, they added that to balance out the purple.”he tells you, deliberately withholding most of the actual anecdote. “now that's in your hands, i realize they were onto something here.”
flustered by his words, you bow your head and feign focus on admiring the bouquet. and the smile on park's face widens just a little more, just visible enough for anyone who was peeping from a distance (like a third floor window).
“well, sounds like this florist has scored another regular.” you cheekily quip as payback. “not to sound greedy, but i wouldn't mind receiving more of these in the future.”
now it's park's turn to iron out the high skips in his pulse. he chooses to cope by gesturing to his car, then asks, “ready to go?”
you nod, exert effort in following while he tries his best to shorten his strides so you won't have to chase so far. and of course he opens the door for you, holds your bouquet so you can safely get on the passenger seat, then carefully perches the flora upon your lap before shutting the door.
from the apartment, trinity snags a glimpse through the window of how park treats you. dennis had been too nervous to eavesdrop, already past the realization stage but not quite ready for protective era. unlike trinity, the ortho surgeon still plucked more fear than respect from the first-year resident.
“have they left yet?” dennis asks from the safety of the sofa.
trinity shuts the curtain for a second to answer, “not yet, they're still flirting on the sidewalk.” before returning to peeping.
only when park's car pulls away from the curb and drives down the main road does trinity back away from the window and plop onto the other side of the sofa. she immediately picks up her phone, probably to text you.
“so.. what do you think?” dennis carefully pokes for her thoughts.
trinity smirks, presumably sending you something that isn't safe to read in the presence of others.
(park raises a brow when you shield your phone from him, but doesn't pry. he'd rather drive you over to his house in a whole, safe piece than audibly wonder what had you toying with the ribbon tied around the bouquet's stems.)
satisfied to see the read receipt, trinity looks up from her phone and muses, “i mean, it's still unexpected. but i can tell park's gonna make sure they'll have a good time.”
later on, right before the roommates retreat to their bedrooms for the night, trinity belatedly adds, “oh yeah, i also reminded gorgeous not to have too much fun. ‘told them we're not ready to be supportive aunt and uncle yet.”
..yeah, baby steps is best for everyone.
especially dennis.
POST ITS. park had, in fact waited for saturday, to enjoy the steak and grape juice.
Brendon park has been arguing with you for the past five and a half minutes, he knows this because you’re flailing around in the tiny transport bed, “don’t cut my clothes! Don’t cut them!” You shout; repeating and repeating until your voice is hoarse.
“Female, 25. Fell off during an equestrian event. Tib-fib fracture. Dislocated pelvis. Possible fractures to her arm and shoulder”
He’s looking down at you now, watching as you stare back at him with the stern faced aggression he’s giving you, “I’m going to cut your boots off. And your pants. And your clothes”
You grunt, “take them off, these boots were six hundred dollars!”
He stares at you like you’re crazy. Maybe you are. The pain is blinding, but the pain of your bank account is going to be worse, “the more arguing I am doing with you the higher likelihood that you are going to lose your leg is”
You snap back, “If you’d just do what I asked the first time- we wouldn’t be here. There’s zippers. Use ‘em”
He shakes his head, “arguing with a teenager” he curses at you, grabbing the shears. And you watch in horror as he cuts your 600$ custom made parlanti boots into scraps, your stomach sinks. That might be the internal bleeding, but you still wince slightly when he cuts the beautiful white; now muddied samsheild breeches, your sparkled black belt. The soft blues of your show shirt.
It’s a sight even Brendon Park feels pitiful for, he’s sure the financial strain of not only competing. But now hospital bills that will leave you in debt for life. It’s not an emotion he’s comfortable with, “how is your pain” a nurse asks you; you look with your eyes. Chest deflated as you look around the room
“Twelve”
“The adrenaline is wearing down, let’s get her up to surgery and notify next of kin” Abbot says, “got real mangled up, I’d like to have neuro check for a concussion”
“I need to get her pelvis stabilized Abbot, her belly is full of blood”
You feel like you’re floating, drifting above yourself. Detached from your body, at least if you died now your doctors were total cuties.
You don’t remember much, or anything after that. The fall you remember; you’ll remember that till the day you die.
A quirky approach to a funky ditch, that the ground slipped from under his studded shoes. You’d committed; he’d bailed. Thrown you over the hedge; where you’d caught on the wooden log and just. Slumped over.
You blink in the light, the sterile smell. Beeping of machines, unfamiliar faces that brush past you.
Everything hurts, a criminally large cast around your leg, a sling around your hips. You can only stare up at the ceiling.
A doctor comes in, navy blue scrubs. Hair slicked back so hard it looks like it’s holding his forehead up, “you’re a tough patient” he comments, “called your emergency contact. Parents will be here in a few hours”
You shift your head slightly, “‘m still upset about my clothes”
Brendon bites the eye roll out of his system, “uh huh. Put your hip and pelvis back into place, your arm was fractured so that’s in a sling. Broke your femur and tibia. And by some miracle your concussion is very minor”
Laughing hurts. But god does it feel good, “my horse. Is he okay?” You ask, ashamed that it’d taken you this long to ask about him, “bay- warmblood he’s um. He’s nine, blaze, his names Theo but he responds to Burger”
Brendon exhales, “I’ll have to ask one of the nurses. Other than that I’m not sure. How’s your pain?”
“Fine. Shouldn’t a nurse be asking that?”
“I like to know how my patients are doing after major surgery”
Dr. Brendon Park follows you around, he makes an excuse to see you during physical therapy. Asks how you’re healing, watches the range of movement in your leg and hips.
You come in once a week, resistance bands, stamina, learning to walk and run again. To trust your body after everything.
You fascinate him, in some. Odd way. Maybe it’s the grit, how you’d told him off, how you continue telling him off, “Im not clearing you yet” he shakes his head
You stare at him, “why. Im doing the PT. I’ve got full range of motion. More than I had before. Why.”
“I owe you a pair of boots.”
You stare at him, eyebrow raised, “do this with all your patients?”
He scoffs, “no. Definitely not”
Even months after your accident; he somehow remains to keep tabs on you. How your first competition went, because he was there.
He’d never wanted to come to something like this. Masses of people and more people. Horses and grooms bustling and bumping past, the ring of bells. He doesn’t make his presence known to you, just watches from afar.
Follows you from the dressage court to the show jumping ring.
He justifies it by saying he wants to make sure your hip can keep up with you. Since you’re so young. Still have so much life left to live. Dreams that still needed to be cradled in your hands.
But you see him, as you’re exiting the dressage court. Smiling bright as you stare over at the familiar hat wearing face. Wearing the boots he’d bought you because he’d destroyed the last ones.
You smile at him. And for a brief second. Maybe you hallucinate it, but his lips quirk up. He smiles back
