this is not about what kinks you write, no one gives a fuck if you write the most taboo, dark shit in the world. (and if they do, they can scroll or get off tumblr)
but TAG YOUR SHIT PROPERLY.
this includes tagging x readers on fic tags, taking MALE CHARACTER x reader under lesbian/sapphic x readers.
if you’re going to have dark or taboo kinks, tag them.
if you’re going to have talk about bodily fluids or functions, you tag it.
violence? tag it.
death or severe injury? tag it.
mental health tag it.
you tag shit so everyone knows what they’re getting into.
this isn’t rocket science, it’s common fucking courtesy. if this is too much work, go make a fucking wattpad or something.
tag your shit and no one has to make posts like this.
takes place before the shark family brings his lunch. a look into how they discover shark's side only seen by his wife and kids. enjoying this? like, comment, reblog to let me know!
checkout the other families here!
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No one in the hospital ever thought to ask if Brendon Park had a life outside of work. He did not invite conversation, and he never volunteered details that were not necessary for the job.
He arrived, worked with quiet precision, and left when his shift was over. That was the version of him everyone knew.
So when someone finally noticed the ring on his hand, it did not register immediately as something important.
It had always been there, or at least it might as well have been, because no one had ever paid attention to it.
The realization came slowly. Then questions followed.
“Since when does Park wear that?”
“Is he married?”
No one had an answer because he had never mentioned it. Not out of secrecy, but because it simply did not come up. It was not part of the version of him that existed in the hospital.
The first confirmation came during a phone call he took slightly away from the main desk. His voice was the same as always at first, flat and efficient, but it shifted just slightly as he spoke.
“Yeah, I’ll be home soon. Eat first, okay.”
It was brief, unremarkable to anyone else. But the tone was different enough that it stayed in people’s minds afterward.
That curiosity remained until you walked in one day.
You approached the desk with a polite smile and asked for him. Someone pointed you in his direction, and he saw you almost immediately.
He walked over without hesitation.
“What do you need,” he asked, direct as always.
You smiled lightly and told him he had forgotten his lunch. For a moment he just looked at you, then at what you were holding, as if recalibrating from work mode to something else entirely.
“Oh,” he said, and there was a subtle change in his voice. “You did not have to bring that.”
“It’s fine,” you replied.
When his fingers brushed yours as he took it, it was brief and unremarkable, except that it wasn’t. He didn’t usually linger like that, even for a second.
“Thanks,” he added, softer than anyone there was used to hearing.
He did not leave immediately. Instead, he told you to wait while he finished what he was doing.
The way he said it was simple, but he stayed closer than necessary afterward, as if your presence naturally anchored him in a way the hospital never did.
That was the first time people realized there was a version of him they had never seen before.
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The next time you came in, people noticed before you said a word. There was a quiet shift in attention when they realized you were pregnant.
You rested a hand lightly over your stomach without thinking about it, and someone immediately offered you a seat before you even had to ask.
Before anything else could happen, he was already there.
He did not rush. He did not show panic. He simply appeared beside you as if he had already been moving in your direction the moment you entered.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hi,” you replied, smiling.
His eyes moved over you quickly in that clinical way he had, but it was no longer just clinical when it came to you. It carried attention, care, awareness.
“You okay,” he asked.
“I’m fine.”
His hand settled at your back, steady and instinctive, not guiding you so much as grounding you. You sat when he indicated the chair without argument.
He stayed close while he spoke to you, asking simple questions about whether you had eaten, when, and how recently. It would have sounded like routine questioning to anyone else, but with you it was different. It was care disguised as habit.
To the people watching, it was the first time they saw him exist in a space that wasn’t purely professional. Not because he changed, but because something in him had always had room for this, and only now did it have somewhere to show.
Someone nearby quietly said he was going to be a certain kind of father, and no one disagreed.
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By the time you came in again, people already knew who you were. There was no confusion anymore, only recognition.
You walked up to the desk and greeted them like it was normal. When they noticed your stomach, the reaction was immediate and almost involuntary.
“Wait. Again?”
You smiled a little, used to it by now, and confirmed it without hesitation.
He appeared shortly after, as if he always did when you were there.
When he reached you, his presence settled immediately beside you. His hand found your back without hesitation, steady and familiar.
“You drove,” he said quietly.
“I’m okay,” you answered.
“You should have called me.”
“I know.”
His tone did not rise. It never did. But the way he looked at you made it clear that the conversation was not really about disagreement. It was about care.
Then the sound of voices cut through the moment.
“Mom.”
“Wait for me.”
Three boys came running in, full of energy, speaking over each other as they reached you.
His attention shifted immediately. The youngest moved toward him without hesitation, and he picked him up easily, like it had always been the most natural thing in the world.
The older boys crowded around him, still talking, still arguing, still trying to get his attention all at once. He handled it without raising his voice, only stepping in when needed with short, calm corrections that they obeyed without question.
Even while that was happening, his hand briefly checked your back again, as if making sure you were still there in the middle of everything.
People watching from the desk understood then that this was not a different version of him. It was simply a part of him they had never had access to before.
❤︎
When you returned after the birth, there was a change in how people looked at you, not out of surprise anymore, but anticipation.
You walked in holding your youngest.
She was small, wrapped in a blanket, sleeping soundly as you approached the desk.
When they saw her, the room quieted slightly.
“She had the baby?”
You smiled and confirmed it simply.
He saw you and came over immediately, his attention shifting to the baby in your arms the moment he reached you.
You adjusted her slightly as you smiled. “Just a checkup today.”
He nodded once, already looking her over the way he would with any patient, but slower now, more careful.
“Routine visit,” he said.
“Yeah,” you replied. “Weight, feeding, all that.”
His gaze stayed on her a moment longer before he spoke again. “She’s small.”
“She’s a baby,” you said lightly, used to his blunt observations.
That earned the faintest shift in his expression, something like quiet acceptance, as if that explanation settled everything he needed to know.
When you moved to adjust her blanket, he reached out without hesitation and took her from you.
It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t uncertain. It was automatic, like he had already been doing this long before anyone else was watching.
He held her close, steady and controlled, his hands careful in a way that didn’t need explanation. Even standing in the middle of the hospital, everything about him narrowed down to just that moment.
“Hi, my princess...” he said quietly, not for anyone around him, just for her.
And then he stayed like that, looking down at her as if the rest of the room had already disappeared.
❤︎
Mornings were never quiet in your house, but they were steady in a way that made them feel familiar rather than chaotic.
He was already awake before anyone else, standing in the kitchen with coffee he had not touched yet, listening for movement down the hall.
The first boy came in asking for cereal, followed quickly by another already arguing about something from the day before. The third appeared slower, still half-asleep, and he instinctively steadied him with a hand on the shoulder as he passed.
Then your daughter came in, walking straight to him.
“Up.”
He lifted her without hesitation, settling her against his side as if she had always belonged there.
When you entered the kitchen, he noticed immediately.
“Morning,” he said.
“Morning,” you replied.
He stepped slightly closer as he passed, brushing you in a way that was subtle but intentional, then pointed out your untouched coffee without needing to say more than necessary.
The boys continued arguing in the background until he finally cut through it with a single word.
“Enough.”
They stopped.
Not because they were afraid, but because they knew he meant it.
Later, when the noise settled again into something manageable, he looked at you and asked if you had slept. You said yes, and he accepted it without argument, even if he already knew the answer.
You watched him for a moment as he moved through the kitchen with the baby on his arm, steady and controlled, as if balancing all of it had never required effort at all.
He noticed you watching.
“What,” he asked.
“Nothing...”
He didn’t believe you, but he let it go anyway.
His hand brushed yours for a moment longer than necessary before he looked away, like it was the most natural thing in the world to stay close to you without saying it out loud.
“Okay,” he said softly. “Just...come here if you need me.”
And in a lower voice, almost like it slipped out without him meaning to, “I’ve got you.”
❤︎
please send ideas (´- `*) who and what do you wanna see?
Warnings: mild sexual implications, fem reader, mentioned pregnancy
- R3/4!reader with an IUD and Brendon Park who loooves raw doggin’ it.
- I like to imagine that even with the “keeping it casual” relationship with Park, he somewhat feels responsible for reader’s sexual health.
- Reader who’s confident with not being pregnant since Brendon never makes her miss an appointment for OBGYN.
- Reader who suddenly dislikes or has complained about hospital canteen food, in which everyone eats and tastes fine.
- ER staff who notices the weird combo foods and requests for takeouts even though reader is widely known to have a weird taste, but to specifically make Whitaker order on HIS PHONE for chinese takeout AND to pick it up from the actual restaurant was just weird… and concerning.
- It is revealed in Brendon and reader’s yearly appointment with the OBGYN doctor that reader has been pregnant for 5 weeks.
- With how rough Brendon was on the bed it wasn’t a surprise that the IUD shifted because of the movement.
Got hella inspired by this comic i saw on tiktok where Carter is the new resident in PTMC working w the night shift (I’ve never watched ER so OOC Carter)
Can yall imagine where John Carter is the new resident in PTMC? Like he comes in after a week when Robby’s sabbatical started.
Bonus: Everyone is betting that Robby got someone knocked up and his genes fought so hard bc they really do look like father and son.
Bonus bonus: Carter is somewhat similar to Whitaker so they’re basically mirroring each other’s actions and habits without them realizing but everyone else noticed (platonic first!)
retract & repent Dennis likes going to sleep with a low blood sugar because he sleeps harder. Something about the way his body feels heavier makes it better.
He said “ooo mini coma” one time when he was staying the night bc he was a little low and now he is not allowed to go to sleep unless his blood sugar is 3 digits long. His boyfriends were not amused. He got a long lecture and he could only half pay attention bc he was low so he could only focus on how pretty Robby and Jack looked
