casually writing for the pitt >< feel free to send ideas, requests, rants, etc. read at your own discretion, i don't proofread and have no one proofreading my works.
enjoyed my works? like, reblog, comment to let me know ❤︎
see list below:
michael robinavitch
mini robby universe
chunky baby eating less and wife!reader getting worried. here!
robby likes his little life. soon!
being clingy while pregnant. here!
brendon park
big family universe
bringing his forgotten lunch. here!
glimpse into his soft side only shared with them. here!
betting pool on the fourth's gender and weight. here!
pregnant with your fourth and brendon smells weird. here!
pregnant again and brendon decides to get a vasectomy. here!
brendon is threatened with tears for trying to shower. here!
frank langdon
chunky baby universe
his back making it hard to carry chunky baby. here!
chunky baby visiting him at work. soon!
jack abbot
jack's chunk universe
chunky baby determined to be fed. here!
chunky baby wanting mommy's attention all to himself. here!
situation happens once more and jack has to improvise. here!
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i'll be having my last four exams tomorrow for my last yr in my univ 🥹 here are the fics/blurbs/idk to be written/posted in no particular order and date :3 might post one tomorrow to celebrate asdfghjkl (ФωФ) if you've requested something and it's not on this list, please send it again!
do lmk which one you'd like to see posted maybe tomorrow, and i'll work on that first <33
brendon gets threatened with tears just for trying to shower. enjoying this? like, comment, reblog!
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checkout my other works!
❤︎
Another night, Brendon comes home from his shift later than usual.
He steps into the room already thinking about finally taking a shower, when he catches a faint scent on himself.
It's not terrible, but not exactly good either, something like hospital air mixed with long hours of sweat clinging to his skin.
He makes a small face. “Okay...I need to shower.”
This catches your attention, making you look up from the bed immediately. “Wait.”
He pauses, already halfway to lifting his scrub. “What?”
You're already getting up, walking toward him with that focused look he has learned not to question. “Come here.”
“I just said I was going to shower,” he replies, but he steps closer anyway.
You don’t answer. You just lean in slightly and breathe in, like you're testing something.
He watches your face, expecting the same reaction as last time.
Instead, you soften. “Oh...”
Brendon frowns a little, suddenly conscious, “...Oh?”
You lean in again, closer, and this time you just stay there.
“This is nice.”
He stares at you like that answer makes no sense.
“This is not nice.”
“It is,” you insist, already stepping closer until you are pressing into him. “Don’t move.”
“I need to shower,” he says, still confused.
“No.” Your hand comes up and grips his scrub before he can even shift away.
He looks down at your hand, then back at you. “Last time you told me I smelled wrong.”
“That was different.”
“How is this different?”
You don’t even hesitate. “I like this smell.”
That makes him pause because of how certain you sound.
You settle against him like the conversation is already over, your head resting against his chest.
“You smell so good,” you add softly.
Brendon exhales, something in his expression easing despite himself.
“You’re serious...”
You nod, already comfortable, already staying.
“Very.”
He glances toward the bathroom for a second, then back at you.
“If I don’t shower, I’m getting into bed dirty.”
“That’s fine.”
“I just came from work.”
“I know.”
“You’re not going to complain later.”
You tilt your head up at him, completely serious. “I will cry if you shower.”
He lets out a quiet breath, almost like a laugh but not quite.
“Are you threatening me?”
“I am.”
He studies you for another second, then shakes his head slightly and gives in.
“Alright.”
You relax even mkre, like that was the only answer you were waiting for.
“Good.”
He adjusts his arm around you without thinking, pulling you closer as you settle fully against him.
“You’re impossible,” he mutters.
“And you smell great,” you reply, already more relaxed.
He don’t argue after that. You just stay with him, completely content.
Later, you both settle down on the bed, curling into his side without hesitation.
He doesn’t tell you to move, doesn’t even try, wouldn't even try.
Because there you are, comfortable, happy, and content.
❤︎
does this seem less ai like? i've taken the anon's message into consideration and am trying to change my writing style but i don't know if i like it (´- `*)
i am procrastinating so instead of reviewing for my exams tomorrow, i decided why not make @cryingpages 's comment real hihi i promise i'm going to review now...
omg dude i just read all the fics that u have linked in ur pinned post and holy shit i love all of them sm like my finals r killing me rn and they just gave me so much joy !!!
you have no idea how much i appreciate receiving messages like this 🥺 the timing with everything going on is just 🥺 thank you so much for taking the time to read my works 🫶🏻
what is with this anons sending hate like its normal do you guys know netiquette wtf i've seen other writers get ai asks that just make them stop writing cause who tf would have the energy to write when it's being seen as that where do you guys think ai gets there writing ?? you did well babe with youre writing and response i could never
yeah it can get a bit much sometimes(/´△`＼) but it’s okay, i’m not taking it to heart ( ´∀`) thank you for being so kind about it! (*つ▽`)っ
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You might’ve gotten this already, but your writing sounds a lot like the writing that ai produces, specifically ChatGPT. And honestly I’m not judging, just a bit curious
Bc I love your blog but you’re writing and the phrases you use seem a bit repetitive and are all within the general style that ai writes. Short sentences, the em-dash and so on…
i just woke up, so i hope my thoughts are coming across clearly
i’ve actually gotten that comment from friends before—even when they’ve seen me writing irl and in real time (´＿｀。). i think it’s because i tend to reread my own work a lot, so some phrasing carries over and feels repetitive ( ´△｀)
the em dash thing is just a style choice too—I used to use a hyphen but switched because i liked how it looked better in my writing. and with shorter sentences, i mostly just type whatever comes to mind and keep it if it fits, which is kinda why i added a “read at your own discretion” note in my masterlist too. i also tend to add small filler words or phrases sometimes so the writing doesn’t feel too abrupt or empty to me.
i’m not mad that you asked, just a little disappointed since i do put time and effort into my writing (writing fics instead of studying—my grades are killing me). but yeah, i don’t use ai for my work—I appreciate you bringing it up ( ´∀`)
i’ll take it as a sign to keep improving and try to vary my writing more—i hope you’ll still keep reading! m(_ _)m
not having titles is making me not want to read any of your works lol
is this genuine? (._.) i'm not really good with titles which is why i put the gist of the fic/blurb in the beginning...can anyone let me know how this affects reading and the enjoyment of it :<
Okay so this is my first time requesting something so I apologize if I did it wrong!
I saw this TikTok where this mom was like “why won’t my baby go down for a nap!?” Then she looked back on all the photos from the day and found out that her baby was sipping on her iced coffee.
I absolutely love your baby series and I feel like you could come up with something cute and creative with Dr. John Shen inspired by this and his Dunkin’ addiction.
Keep up the great work!
i saw that tiktok, so cute and funny!! that would be so cute and fitting for shen hihi will draft this once i'm free ＼(^o^)／ thank you so much for reading (*＾3＾)/～☆
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brendon undergoes snip snip seeing how much his wife's struggling with the new pregnancy with twins. enjoying this? like, comment, reblog!
checkout my other works!
❤︎
By the time you realize you’re pregnant again, you don’t say anything right away.
Not because you’re hiding it.
You just need a second.
Four kids. Three boys, one little girl, a house that is never quiet… and now this. Again.
Brendon notices anyway.
He notices the hesitation before you eat. The morning you set your coffee down and don’t touch it again.
“You okay?”
You nod too quickly. “I’m fine.”
He doesn’t argue. Doesn’t push.
Just watches you a little longer than usual.
Then waits.
❤︎
That night, when the house finally goes quiet, you find him in the bedroom.
He’s drying his hair when he sees you sitting there, and he stops immediately.
“I’m pregnant.
He pauses. Processes.
“...Again."
He sits beside you, taking your hand like it’s instinct.
“But I need to ask you something.”
You glance at him.
“Is this something you want? To go through this again."
You blink, caught off guard.
“Because if it’s not,” he continues, steady, calm, “that’s okay too. Whatever you decide...I’m right here."
Something in your chest gives.
“I think I want to,” you admit quietly. “I’m just...scared.”
“I know.”
He leans forward, resting his forehead against yours.
“I’m scared too. But I’ve got you.”
❤︎
This pregnancy is the worst. There’s no easing into it. No gentle adjustment.
It hits all at once.
The nausea doesn’t stop.
You barely make it through the day without ending up on the bathroom floor, cold, exhausted, shaking.
Brendon adjusts instantly. The boys get quieter. The house softens around you.
And he’s always there, watching, paying attention to every small change.
❤︎
One night, you don’t make it back to bed.
You’re sitting on the edge of the tub, drained, too tired to even move.
“I can’t do this again,” you whisper. “I’m so tired, Brendon. This is worse than before."
He’s in front of you immediately. No hesitation.
Pulling you into him like it’s the only thing that matters.
“Okay,” he says quietly. “I’ve got you."
You shake your head, pressing into his shirt.
“I don’t like this one. This one is mean.”
His hand tightens slightly against your back.
Just for a second.
“Yeah,” he murmurs. “I know.”
❤︎
It builds from there. Not one moment. All of them.
Every time you struggle to stand.
Every time you try to smile through it.
Every time he sees you push through something you shouldn’t have to.
One afternoon, you finally fall asleep on the couch.
And he just stands there for a while.
Watching. Thinking.
He brings it up a few days later like it’s nothing.
You’re folding laundry when he says it.
“I’m scheduling a vasectomy.”
You freeze, a tiny onesie still in your hands.
“Brendon...you don’t have to.”
“I know.”
It’s simple. Certain.
“But you’ve done enough. You carried all of them. You’re carrying another one now. I don’t need you to prove anything.”
He looks at you properly then.
“We’ve got what we need. I’m not letting you go through this again.”
❤︎
At your next ultrasound, you’re finally feeling a little better.
Brendon’s beside you, steady as always.
Calm. Controlled.
Until the technician goes quiet.
She checks again. Adjusts the wand.
Then turns the screen toward you.
“There are two.”
Silence.
“Twins.”
You laugh.
Not because it’s funny. Because it doesn’t feel real.
“We have four already,” you say, breathless. “This makes six. Brendon...”
He exhales slowly, reaching for your hand.
Holding it firmly. Grounding.
“We’ll figure it out.”
Then, still looking at the screen—
“I’m definitely keeping that appointment. I might move it sooner.”
“Brendon.” You laugh through it.
“I’m serious.”
He finally looks at you, something firm and final in his expression.
“This is the last time I watch you go through this. I’m finishing it.”
❤︎
The kids notice a week later.
Because Brendon Park is not the type to sit still.
And definitely not on the couch with an ice pack.
“Daddy, are you okay?"
Your daughter climbs up beside him.
“I’m okay, princess."
He adjusts slightly, careful.
“I just had a small procedure.”
“What kind?”
He glances toward you for half a second. Then back at them.
“It means we’re not having more babies after this.”
The boys wince.
“Did it hurt?”
“A little.”
“Then why would you do that?”
Brendon pauses. Just briefly.
Then—
“Because your mom’s done enough. It was my turn.”
❤︎
A few days later, he’s back at work. Like nothing happened.
He heads down to the emergency department for a consult.
The second he steps off the elevator, he already knows something’s off.
Too quiet.
Too many looks.
“What.”
Robby is grinning. Of course he is.
“Nothing,” Robby says. “Just heard you made a big decision.”
Brendon doesn’t look up from the chart.
“I’m fine.”
“You walking a little careful there or is that just me.”
“I’m fine.”
Robby looks around.
“Everyone’s just okay with this? No debate?"
A nurse shrugs.
“Good for him.”
Another adds—
“About time one of you did something for your wife.”
Jack nods slightly. “It makes sense.”
Robby points at all of them.
“Unbelievable. I’m surrounded by traitors.”
Brendon closes the chart. Done with this conversation.
“Six kids, Park,” Robby calls after him. “You really called it.”
Brendon pauses at the elevator. Turns back just slightly.
“I didn’t call anything.”
His voice is calm.
“I just made sure she doesn’t have to go through that again.”
A beat.
“She’s given me everything. That’s the least I can do.”
The room goes still.
Brendon just nods once. Then turns and leaves.
❤︎
@vastscoutweapon replied what if the next was twins and this has been stuck in my head ever since. felt like brendon would def do this for his wife (ﾟ∀ﾟ )
edited this cause i just wasn't feeling how it was before...
brendon smells weird? pregnant with your fourth seems different from the last three. enjoying this? like, comment, reblog!
extra!
checkout my other works!
❤︎
By your fourth pregnancy, Brendon thinks he has seen everything.
Three boys. Three pregnancies. Three full rotations of cravings, moods, and very specific demands.
He knows how to handle it. He is prepared.
He is not prepared for this.
It’s a quiet night. The boys are finally asleep after arguing about something that did not matter but felt like it did. The house has settled into that rare kind of silence that makes everything feel softer.
You’re already in bed, half-reading, half-resting, one hand over your stomach.
Calm. Comfortable. Waiting.
Brendon comes in a few minutes later.
Fresh from the shower. Hair damp. Shirt clean.
Smelling like soap and something faintly clinical.
He gets into bed beside you.
You freeze.
“Wait...”
Brendon stills instantly.
“What?”
You turn your head slowly. Suspicious.
Then you lean in. Just a little.
You inhale.
Pause. And then—
you jerk back like you’ve been personally betrayed.
“No...”
Brendon blinks once. “What..."
“You smell wrong.”
“I just showered.”
“I know,” you say, already sounding offended. “Why would you do that?”
That makes him pause.
“...Because I was dirty?”
“You weren’t this,” you gesture at him vaguely, “this smells fake.”
He looks down at himself like he might find the answer there.
“It’s soap.”
“I don’t like it.”
Okay. He tries to reason it out.
“It’s clean.”
“It’s too clean,” you snap immediately.
“That’s not—”
“It’s not you.”
There’s a beat. He studies your face.
This isn’t just complaining. You’re actually bothered.
“Come here,” he says, reaching for you.
You lean away immediately.
“No.”
“No...”
“You smell like a hospital,” you accuse.
“I work at a hospital.”
“Exactly.”
He exhales slowly.
“Just—try,” he says, pulling you gently closer anyway.
You resist. Then give in a little.
You lean toward him again.
Careful.Suspicious.
You breathe in—
And immediately recoil like you’ve been attacked.
“Oh my—no—no, I can’t—”
Your eyes water instantly.
You shove lightly at his shoulder.
“Brendon, I can’t do this.”
He actually looks taken aback now.
“Do what?”
“Sleep next to that.”
“That.”
He repeats it flatly.
You’re already blinking fast, trying not to cry.
“It smells wrong,” you say, voice wobbling now. “I don’t like it, I don’t like it—”
And there it is.
Too late. Your face crumples.
Brendon straightens immediately.
“Hey.”
You turn away, pulling the blanket with you.
“No, it’s fine, just—sleep on the couch.”
He freezes.
“What?”
“Just go,” you insist, fully emotional now. “I can’t smell that all night, I’ll cry.”
“You’re already crying.”
“That’s because you smell like chemicals.”
There is a pause. A long one.
Brendon runs a hand over his face.
Processes.
Then without another word, he grabs the hem of his shirt and pulls it off.
Drops it somewhere behind him.
You sniff, pause and slowly turn back.
“What are you doing?”
“Try again.”
You hesitate.
Then lean in. Careful.
You breathe in—
Still not perfect.
But better.
You don’t recoil this time, which is already progress.
Your shoulders drop a little.
“Okay...”
Brendon watches you closely.
“Better?”
You nod.
Then immediately crawl closer, pressing into him like nothing happened.
He doesn’t comment on that.
Just adjusts his arm around you.
Steady.
You sniff once more. Just to be sure.
“...If you shower again, I’m filing for divorce.”
“That’s not how that works.”
“I’m serious.”
“I can tell.”
A quiet beat.
“Sorry...” you mumble against his chest.
“No.”
“I yelled at you.”
“You did.”
“...And told you to sleep on the couch.”
“You did that too.”
You go quiet.
Then softer—
“I didn’t mean it.”
“I know.”
He shifts slightly, settling you more comfortably against him.
His hand rests over yours on your stomach.
Grounding.
Familiar.
After a moment, you mumble—
“She’s the problem.”
Brendon exhales quietly.
“She is.”
You nod against him. “She doesn’t like it.”
There’s a pause.
Then, very softly—
“Okay.”
He presses a brief kiss to your hair.
Lets his hand rest there.
❤︎
i was debating between brendon and robby...maybe i'll still post something like this for robby. sorry to the requests that still aren't posted ( ;´･ω･`)
thank you to everyone who’s read my fics, commented, reblogged, or just quietly supported like seriously it means so much to me. i appreciate every single one of you more than you know
i didn’t expect this at all but i’m really glad!! more fics soon (probably)
cravings while being pregnant with jack's chunk. i feel this is a hint of where i'm from :[ enjoying this? like, comment, reblog!
checkout my other works!
❤︎
Jack knows something is wrong the second he walks in. The house is too quiet.
Then he hears it. Sniffling.
He drops his bag immediately.
“Hey—” he’s already moving, already scanning, already running through everything that could be wrong. “What happened?”
He finds you on the couch.
Wrapped in a blanket. Eyes glassy. One hand resting over your stomach. Crying.
Jack’s chest tightens instantly.
He’s in front of you in seconds. “Hey, hey,” he says, softer now, hands already checking you without thinking. “Are you okay? Is the baby okay?”
You nod quickly. “We’re fine.”
That does not match the situation.
Jack studies you. “...Then why are you crying.”
You hesitate.
“Talk to me...”
Your voice comes out small. “I just—”
He waits.
“I want a sandwich...”
There is a pause.
Jack blinks once.
“Okay,” he says immediately. “I can make you one.”
You shake your head.
“No.”
He stops.
“No...”
“It has to be from the hospital.”
Jack recalibrates. That’s still doable.
“Alright,” he says. “I can go back and get one.”
You sniff, eyes watering again.
“It won’t work.”
Jack’s expression shifts. “Why..."
You look at him. Very serious.
“I don’t want to eat it.”
Silence. Jack processes that.
“Okay...but you want a sandwich?"
“I want to see Robby eating the sandwich.”
Jack doesn’t respond right away.
Not because he didn’t hear you.
Because he’s making sure he heard that correctly.
“You want,” he repeats slowly, “to watch Robby eat a hospital sandwich.”
You nod, completely serious. “Yes.”
Your lip trembles slightly.
“It has to be him.”
That’s it. Decision made.
Jack pulls out his phone.
“Okay.”
❤︎
Robby answers almost immediately. “Yeah?”
“I need you to go to the cafeteria.”
Robby frowns, already moving between patients. “I’m literally in the middle of a shift.”
“I know.”
“Then why do you want me to go to the cafeteria?”
Jack doesn’t answer right away. He just turns the phone toward you.
You’re curled up on the couch, clearly pregnant, clearly emotional, eyes still a little teary.
Robby pauses mid-step. “Oh...”
Jack nods once. “Yeah.”
Robby exhales through his nose, already turning. “Alright. Give me a second. What do I need to do?”
“Get a sandwich.”
“What kind?”
You speak up, voice small but firm. “The cafeteria one.”
Robby squints. “That tells me nothing.”
Jack cuts in. “Just pick one.”
Robby’s already walking. “Alright, alright.”
❤︎
A few minutes later, Robby is seated in the cafeteria.
Phone propped up. Sandwich in hand.
“This one?” he asks.
You lean forward immediately. “Yes.”
Jack stands beside you, one hand resting on your shoulder, watching your face instead of the screen.
Robby unwraps it. Takes a bite. Chews slowly. Swallows.
Jack glances at you. “Better?”
You nod.
Your shoulders relax slightly.
“Again,” you say.
Robby raises an eyebrow. “Again.”
“Yes.”
He takes another bite.
More dramatic this time. Like he’s performing.
Jack watches you carefully.
The sniffling starts to fade. Your grip on the blanket loosens.
“Okay...” you murmur.
Robby leans back, still chewing.
Then, casually—
“You know,” he says, “if this is about—”
Jack already sighs. “Don’t.”
Robby keeps going anyway.
“—there’s a chance the baby comes out looking like me.”
You blink. “What...”
Robby nods like this is solid science. “You’re craving watching me eat. That’s very specific.”
Jack pinches the bridge of his nose. “It’s not a craving for you.”
Robby ignores him. “I mean, I’ve got good features. Strong bone structure. It’s not a bad outcome.”
You look at the screen. Then at Jack. Then back at Robby.
“The baby is not going to look like you...”
Robby shrugs. “We won’t know until delivery.”
Jack’s voice goes flat. “You’re done.”
“I’m just saying—”
“Finish the sandwich.”
Robby grins. “Yes, sir.”
By the time the sandwich is gone, you’re completely calm.
Leaning back into the couch. No more tears. No more tension.
Jack brushes his thumb lightly over your arm.
“You okay now?”
You nod. “Yeah.”
A small pause.
“Thank you.”
Jack doesn’t hesitate. “Always.”
On the phone, Robby wipes his hands.
“Well,” he says, “that worked better than expected.”
Jack glances at him. “Don’t make it weird.”
“I’m not making it weird,” Robby says. “I’m just preparing you.”
“For what.”
“For when your kid comes out looking exactly like me.”
Jack stares at him.
“I’m hanging up.”
Robby laughs. “Love you too, brother.”
The call ends.
Jack looks down at you.
Then at your stomach.
“I love you both very much...maybe next time I could be the one eating it?"
You smile a little.
He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your temple, then lower to your bump.
“...Just not Robby.”
You laugh quietly.
And just like that—
everything feels steady again.
Even if Robby is absolutely going to bring this up for the rest of your life.
❤︎
i know it's short but i hope this makes up for the lack of posts :< i have a few weeks left before graduating and have a full schedule >~< still send requests though!
no more scheduled fics for the remainder of the week (つд⊂) i have so much drafts and i haven't finished them due to uni >< I'll hopefully be able to post again on sunday...sorry :<
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Hi, I love your Shark Family stories, and I wanted to know if you could write one where Brendo's wife takes their newborn daughter to work for her morning routine, and his wife couldn't go to the hospital because she was still tired.
If you can't understand, you don't have to write it, my angel★
๑•͈ᴗ•͈๑
sure!! will put this in my notes~ thank you for loving the shark family 🫶🏻
