friends with b(aby)enefits (eddie munson x fem!reader)
MONTH ONE: Just friends—what a silly concept. After your accident, Eddie's been a full-fledged comedian, ill-conceived jokes left and right... neither of you are laughing though when his 'comedy routine' comes back to bite the both of you in the ass.
cw: 18+!, mature language, smut, pinv sex (unprotected again smh), pet names, vomiting, a lot of pregnancy related topics, potentially dramatized pregnancy symptoms (for the plot obvi, also idk anything about pregnancy), mention of readers period, mention of birth control
an: lots of minor time jumps/cuts but we get some eddie pov!!!
wc: 8.3k+
0 / 01 / 02 / 03 / 04 / 05 / 06 / 07 / 08 / 09 / 00
Arms wrapped around your waist from behind, both palms pressed flat to your belly.
“How are my girls doing today?”
Comically loud, heavily puckered kisses scattered over the top of your stomach, catching you by surprise— not at all expecting to be ambushed with facetious affection by your friend.
Eddie thinks he’s a comedian.
With about a month of his poor taste in jokes, he thinks he’s hilarious— and a self-proclaimed prophet because he 'just knows' that it's a baby girl. He's full of shit and you desperately try to not give him the benefit of finding his terrible jokes humorous. To your demise, from time to time, they get you.
cold compress - dennis whitaker x f!reader
summary: you and dennis get interrupted while you're...messing around in a call room.
pairings: dennis whitaker x RT!reader (respiratory therapist)
cw/tags: no use of y/n, established relationship, smut (mdni) with afab!reader, fingering, unprotected piv, hickeys, bruising (obviously), biting, typical pitt warnings (depiction of car crash victims and their treatment, involving needle decomps, intubations, medications, compressions, etc etc), inappropriate workplace conduct (fucking in a call room, teasing from your coworkers during an ongoing trauma AND after, sexually suggestive remarks, flirting), dennis' muscles being hot and distracting, you have hair long enough to be tied back in a nondescript way, mentions of you having cleavage and nipples and you’re given visible hickeys. the colour of said hickeys is NOT described so you can picture whatever shade they would be on your skin! other than that no descriptions of you!! swearing. also idk if dennis' chain is a cross but...i made it one in this....so if you would find biting religious paraphernalia offensive then do not read this...
word count: 4k
dennis x RT!reader masterlist
general masterlist
taglist
inspired by this ask from my lovely lotus flower 🪷 anon, @libbyqypu and 2 hands by tate mcrae, particularly the line 'cause I want them all to see, you look good on top of me' because he looks exceptional on top of you your honour
sent a message
jade jade jade jade!! i am obsessed with beyond the sea oh my goodness. i am just dying to know how she tells steve about home, maybe not specifics, but enough to weave a picture. is it lonely? cold? warm? far? close? green? open?
oh i’m just dying for babygirl to learn more adjectives
beyond the sea au | fem, 1.9k
There are five oceans on Earth, filled with strange creatures. Steve shows them to you from the book he’s found. He’s poured over it in the last few days, head bent down, occasionally rubbing at the side of his head with a closed fist. What he’s trying to learn from them is a mystery —it’s not as though he’ll find you or anyone like you in the pages. No, there are no photographs of mermaids, sirens or selkies.
You can’t read, so you spend the quieter hours curled at the bottom of the pool looking up at the sun, or resting near the shallows with your face and torso on the inleading steps, breathing deep breaths. Dozing.
Occasionally, you wake up and he’s there beside you, with or without the book. Your strange human. Your saviour. He’s handsomer than most of them, with a straight nose, a nice jaw, and brown eyes unlike anything you or your family have. His are black in the very centres and ringed by brown, but that brown doesn’t glow, nor tine off at random. It’s one strong circle, but within? You tip your head to the side to stare at him without facing him head on. His irises are vast. Like a passed urchin shell, they’re filled with a thousand lines going outward, a brown with hints of ochre-green, a colour you’d never seen before in someone’s face.
They’re beautiful. They suit him wholeheartedly.
He has these little dots all over, as natural to him as your facial scales. You flush remembering how you’d tried to flick them off of him in those first days, worried he’d been afflicted by sea lice, and mortified that you could’ve brought them with you unknowingly from the great lake, how could you not have noticed them? But Steve didn’t have lice, he has moles.
A new word, like ‘book’. Steve shows you photographs, which you’d known of vaguely, in books, which you were less familiar with.
Occasionally, you might’ve spotted a human with one in hand, but it’s not like you know what half of their weird contraptions are nor what they do. Their strange split tails were daunting enough. He introduces words in his language with help, and they’re admittedly far easier to remember when you have your own words to fall back on. He confuses you often, you know you confuse him worse, using words in wrong orders and making up things that feel right but sound odd.
sent a message
May I request walsh x reader?💘 over the moon for anything you're in the mood for, maybe even a follow up to "ouch"? Bonus points for the pitt crew appearing and emery being mean (can you tell I'm still hung up on that fic) have an amazing dayyy x
Mine
Emery Walsh x girlfriend!reader
Summary: months after your little trip to PTMC, a familiar face strolls into your work and wreaks havoc on your relationship. And the worst part? You don’t even know it’s happening.
CW: fluff, angst/comfort, established relationship, one-sided Jack Abbot x reader, flirting from a man, Jack is the catalyst but there is no bashing here, completely oblivious!reader, jealous!Emery, insecure!Emery, protective!Emery, very minorly suggestive at one point but not explicit, implied bisexual!reader (in reference to a past with men).
WC: 6.6k
Technically a part 2 to Ouch! but can be read separately without too much confusion.
𝗯𝗲𝘆𝗼𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗲𝗮
Steve finds a girl in his pool. A very wet, very bloody, and very scaly girl. fem, 4k.
mermaid!au. cw for non-sexual nudity and moderate injury. reader is same age as steve / in early twenties. requested here
｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡
Steve doesn’t like looking at the pool for obvious reasons, but there’s a… sound, emanating. The back yard is fenced in but empty, so sounds down there tend to echo, and Steve’s bedroom looks down on it all, so he hears the weeping from bed and isn’t sure if he can bring himself to look.
That feeling lasts for longer than he’d ever admit to, but he worries that there’s somebody down there hurting and that he’s letting that happen. He gets out of bed in nothing but sweats and a pair of socks to peer through the slit gap in his curtains. Fog rolls over the pool, concrete wet and dark, rain still spatting lightly against the window as Storm Melly says goodbye. Steve cracks his window wider, scanning the pool like they taught him in lifeguard training. Up and down, side to side.
He can’t see anything out of the ordinary, but he can hear the crying. It’s— it’s so sad, so suddenly humanising that he races out of his room and down the stairs, through the foyer and the kitchen to the back door. He struggles with the lock, nearly takes the thing off its hinges as he gets it open, but catches it before it can slam into the exterior wall.
Shit, the crying. It’s a woman sobbing, all guttural and long and painful, before it cuts out like a gasp, shuttered, shattered, like it’s too painful to go on.
“I’m here!” he says. “Hello? I’m here, where are you? I’ll– I can help you! I can– Hello?”
A weak murmur of sound.
Steve sets out into the yard. His socks are soaked through in five steps, shoulders kissed by tropical rain, oddly cold, the surface of the pool wavering as the rain gives a startling lash, a last goodbye as it suddenly stops. It dribbles down the gutters and off the roof and the patio umbrella, the soggy rustle of leaves from the nearby woods almost smothering another pained whimper.
“Hello?” he asks again, lowering his voice. “I’m here. Just tell me where you are and I can help.” Steve softens his tone. “I know first aid!”
A sluicing of water. A shape emerging from the surface of the pool.
Steve flinches so hard that the girl recedes. The woman. Your halfway across the pool before he can stop you.
“Oh my god!” he says. “Holy shit, are you okay?” Steve scrambles to the edge of the pool. There, in the water, red blood shimmers and blooms a paler orange. The source of it is dark, like black against your belly. “I’ll get you out!” he says, grabbing the rungs of the ladder and half jumping, half climbing into the water before he can think better of things.
man i love feelings // jack abbot pt. 2
Clock in. Find Jack Abbot. Say something that makes him squirm. Clock out. You've never claimed it means anything. You've never claimed it doesn't either. What matters is that something has shifted. Jack is off. And you are going to figure out what happened.
genre: jack abbot x reader, attending jack x attending reader, comedy, because i think i'm funny!, flirty reader makes jacky a nervous boy but he likes it, best friend john shen!!!!,banter, inaccurate medical lingo probably, eventual smut 18+ nsfw, angst in this one sorry!!
(a/n: here yall gooooooo. jack is a little bitch in this. i am so sorry but he will be making up for it, you best believe.)
word count: 3600
You sobered up fast.
It happened the second your ass made contact with the passenger seat of Jack's car. His jacket was being draped over your legs with the kind of quiet care that you were not going to think about too hard.
You'd fought him on the wheelchair, obviously.
"I can walk," you'd told him.
"You have a bandaged knee and you've had some drinks tonight." he'd said, already wheeling it toward you.
"I walked in here didn't I?"
"You hobbled in here leaning on Shen."
You'd looked at the wheelchair. Then up at him. "You could just carry me again," you'd said, smiling up at him. "If you want."
And he had without hesitation started to bend down. Which you had not actually expected. "I'm kidding, Jack." You stepped back, a blush crawling up your own neck for once.
punching above his weight...or is he? - dennis whitaker x f!reader
summary: once your relationship is no longer a secret, the emergency department starts to see just how perfect you and dennis are for each other, and they realize that you may not be as far out of his league as they initially thought.
aka dennis can fucking PULL okay.
pairings: dennis whitaker x RT!reader (respiratory therapist)
word count: 4.2k
cw/tags: swearing, no use of y/n, typical pitt warnings (blood, intubation, depictions of a motorcycle crash victim), you're (affectionately) nicknamed 'hot shot' by most of the department, dennis is obsessed with you, you're obsessed with him, what more could you ask. you have hair long enough for the top half to be tied back in a nondescript way. light inappropriate conduct in the workplace but it's all in good fun and no one's feelings are hurt!
more dennis x hot shot guys i told you i couldn't be stopped! inspired by this ask and @libbyqypu :)
secure chat for anyone who doesn’t know is basically a messenger system that is patient privacy compliant and integrated into the charting platform!!
Soak
Pairing: Sam (Warfare) x You
Summary: Sam overdid it, and his legs need a soak. Mrs. Sam keeps him company while he boy-rots in the tub.
Contains: Domestic fluff, annoying banter, suggestive dialogue, best friends who are also completely in love.
Words: 1.3k
Two bottles of beer clink together in your hand as you slip back into the bathroom, quietly closing the door behind you.
It looks like Sam has fallen asleep in the bathtub. How long have you been gone? He's got his head leaned against the back side of the big claw-foot tub, his arms resting around the rim. The water laps quietly around him, like he hasn't been still for long. The bubbles cling to the pale skin around his torso. You've gotta get him outside more.
"You fall asleep on me?" you ask quietly.
"Yup," he answers, rolling his head toward you with a smirk.
"Guess these both belong to me, then," you shrug, holding the bottles up so he can see what he's missing.
man i love feelings // jack abbot pt. 1
Clock in. Find Jack Abbot. Say something that makes him squirm. Clock out. You've never claimed it means anything. You've never claimed it doesn't either. What matters is that something has shifted. Jack is off. And you are going to figure out what happened.
genre: jack abbot x reader, attending jack x attending reader, comedy, because i think i'm funny!, flirty reader makes jacky a nervous boy but he likes it, best friend john shen!!!!,banter, inaccurate medical lingo probably, eventual smut 18+ nsfw
word count: 4900
(a/n: i've had suuuuuch writers block yall. i just wanted to write something that made me giggle and so here it is.)
You were never late. Well, not usually anyways.
But the dryer had, apparently, developed a personal vendetta against you, and had eaten your scrubs. Because when you'd opened the door, there was exactly one sock.
So you'd rolled into the ER the only way you knew how, with style.
The style being your loosest, most comfortable pants and a shirt that was, objectively, enormous on you. Hair twisted up into something that could generously be called a bun, but more honestly looked like a bird had started a nest.
The automatic doors slid open and the familiar wall of antiseptic air hit you.
You were exactly twenty two minutes late.
wet t-shirt contest - dennis whitaker x f!reader
summary: there are two things that everyone in the ER knows about you—you're incredible at your job and extremely hot. the thing that they don't know is that you're dating one of their newest residents and have been for years.
pairings: dennis whitaker x RT!reader (respiratory therapist)
cw/tags: female reader (she/her pronouns used), described as having breasts and wearing a thong and bralette, mentions of cleavage and nipples, hair long enough for the top half to be tied back in a nondescript way. established relationship, typical pitt warnings (hospitals, intubations, chest compressions, sedation drugs, etc etc), swearing, ogilvie being a freak lowkey, very very minor and casual inappropriate conduct i guess (everyone wants you badly okay is it such a crime??), garcia calls you 'hot shot,' HPV in this context stands for 'hot potato voice,' not human papillomavirus lmfao, no smut but a few sexually explicit references
takes place on the fourth of july but absolutely zero reference to any real events of season 2 so no spoilers!
the pitt needs to introduce some respiratory therapists okay or else
The room smells like disinfectant, warm blankets, and that weird hospital air that feels too clean to be real. You’re half propped up in bed, exhausted in that bone-deep, cosmic way, staring at the absolute UNIT swaddled against your chest.
Your baby is… enormous. Respectfully. A marvel of biology. The nurses kept saying things like “wow” and “that’s a strong baby” with the same tone people use when they see a truck doing something illegal.
And Simon?
Simon is unwell.
He’s standing too close to the bed. Too stiff. Like if he locks his knees he’ll pass out. His skull mask is gone, because apparently hospital staff draw the line there and without it, he looks wrecked. Red-eyed. Hair a mess. Hands shaking like he’s about to diffuse a bomb using chopsticks.
Soap walks in first and immediately stops dead.
“…Jesus Christ.”
Price follows. Gaz behind him. All three of them stare.
Soap points. “Is that— is that the baby?”
Gaz squints. “That’s not a baby. That’s a loaf.”
Price clears his throat, deeply impressed. “Strong start. Good head on ‘em.”
Simon makes a noise that’s somewhere between a laugh and a sob.
“Shes breathing,” he says urgently, like this is breaking news. “She just— she breathes and then she sighs.”
Soap grins. “Yeah mate. That’s what babies do.”
“No,” Simon insists. “This one does it… meaningfully.”
You adjust the baby slightly and Simon flinches like you just tossed a live grenade.
“Careful!” he blurts, then clamps his mouth shut, horrified. “Sorry. I’m sorry. You’re doing perfect. I just”
The baby lets out a tiny grunt. A chunky, offended little noise.
Simon’s entire soul leaves his body.
“She’s mad,” he whispers. “I’ve upset her.”
Gaz is already losing it. “Lt, you look like you’re about to apologize to the Prime Minister.”
Soap leans over the crib. “Blimey. Look at those cheeks. You could lose a man in there.”
The baby’s hand escapes the blanket and immediately grabs Simon’s finger.
Simon freezes. Again.
“…she’s got me,” he says quietly. “I can’t move.”
Price sips his coffee. “You’re a parent now, Simon. Accept your fate.”
Simon looks at you. Completely undone. Voice shaking, eyes soft, like he’s staring at the sun but it’s wrapped in a blanket.
“I don’t know how you did that,” he says, reverent. “You’re incredible. Both of you.”
The baby yawns. Wide. Dramatic. Fat
Soap actually clutches his chest. “I can’t believe this. The scariest man I know just got emotionally KO’d by a newborn.”
Gaz snaps another picture. “This is going on the fridge.”
Simon doesn’t even protest.
He just gently presses his thumb against the baby’s knuckles, whispering like a vow, like a promise, like a man who is absolutely, irrevocably gone.
“Hi, love,” he murmurs. “I’m yer dad. I’ll sort it out. Promise.
Simon Ghost Riley, will not survive becoming a father.
Sixteen
“You stay away from that boy.”
That had been your parents’ mantra since you came to the Tillman ranch almost 16 years ago.
&&
pairing: gator tillman/reader
wc: 11.1k
tags: slow burn, pining, smut (vaginal fingering, p in v sex), lots of kissing. like so much kissing lol
a/n: the story is kinda bittersweet and has a sad ending. i'm sorry, but it's (for the most part?) canon compliant, so… nothing bad happens to gator in this story, but the implications near the end are pretty clear i think.
&&
for this prompt from anon! • ao3 link
Twenty-two
Six years after you left the Tillman ranch, you found a way back.
&&
pairing: gator tillman/f!reader
wc: 23.3k
tags: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, domesticity, slow burn, smut (oral sex [m receiving], vaginal fingering, vaginal sex)
a/n: not-so-casual reminder that this is canon compliant. please enjoy, i hope you love it!
&&
part 1 • ao3 link
Steve Harrington x fem!reader | 2.7K | angst, comfort, mentions of throwing up | pregnancy fic
You were glaring at Nancy Wheeler.
You were irritable and hormonal and so aggravated that it radiated from you with enough heat to burn those unfortunate enough to be near you. But heartburn had been vicious enough to keep you up for most of the night before and the only thing you were able to keep in your stomach was cherry flavoured slushies from the movie theatre lobby.
But still, Nancy hadn’t done anything to warrant your pregnancy induced wrath. Not really. Steve, on the other hand, well—
Anonymous
sent a message
Hiya!! I’ve never requested anything before, but figured I’d be brave.
I think it would be adorable if mer!reader kept doing things with Steve that meant she loved him. Similar to giving him the bracelet, but maybe more physical? Like maybe running her hands around his collar bones or the back of his neck? Or her pressing her lips to his neck, not kissing per se but just resting them on him. Or maybe now that she has legs she just follows him around aimlessly, not needing anything except to be held. And maybe she gets frustrated when he doesn’t take to it or understand what she was doing but she can see his blushing. And maybe she tries to explain her actions to him but she doesn’t have enough words to explain how she feels, so she just stares at him and chirps angrily.
Sorry if this is awkward, you can ignore it if you’d like. <3
beyond the sea au | fem, 2k
Steve gave you more clothes than you thought you could wear through. The bikinis were already more than you’d ever had.
Some mermaids wear decorative things, or weavings that obscure their chests, but they don’t wear t-shirts or skirts or socks. You now have many. You’d figured Steve was getting you enough to allow you free reign of the human world —you’ve been in their world, though that hadn’t ended well, and they’re all clothed all the time— when he approached the vendor human and paid for your skirt and blouse with that paper money they have, but then he got it all put in a bag and carted you back for more. It was weird. You had to ask him, “Why?” twice before he’d been able to explain that clothes get dirty fast when you’re dry, shedding onto yourself, and sweaty.
Sweaty. You do sweat, strangely enough, a small amount of dampness across your skin without the water to wash it away, and especially in your armpits. Steve had bought you some other things; a skinny brush with tines; weird strips to go inside of your underwear if you need it, though you’re not sure when you would; a hairbrush; shampoo; conditioner; a body soap that smelled like the fruit he’d given you from a silver can. What he hadn’t remembered was a block soap called ‘deodorant’ that helps the sweat not smell.
“You can do it yourself,” he says, offering his to you, after he’s said sorry and promised you one tomorrow with a better smell.
You actually understand most of his sentence, but the sentiment feels false. “Steve do?”
“Baby, I know you can.”
You love that word. He’s Steve and you’re baby, because you make Steve feel happy, warm, and safe. That’s how he described it.
“Steve, do?” you ask, lifting your arm.
He sighs loudly, but he uncaps your deodorant and holds your arm. “I know you can do it. You just watched me do it.”
“Hard,” you deny.
“But you can do it. I know it’s hard,” —he brushes the stick over your armpit, which tickles the fine hairs there, and leaves your skin slippery in a strange way— “but you practice hard things and they get easier.”
“Practice?” you ask.
“Do. Do many times. Do do do.” He lets your arm go and gestures for you to raise the other one. “You practice things to get better.”
“Better?”
“Hard to easy. Better.”
Steve is gentle with you despite his reluctance and his righteous speech. He maybe thinks you’re lazy, or at least acts like he does, what with all the things you can do but don’t like to. The thing is, you’re courting this boy. You know humans probably don’t court the same way, but surely they’d share some of the same instincts, right? Steve already likes taking care of you.
His cheeks are slightly pink as he puts the cap back on the deodorant, so you know he liked doing it. You liked having it done.
You raise your hand to his neck, rubbing his collarbone with your thumb. “Thank you.”
“Get out of here.”